Author: Sharkey

McFarlane Starts Writing New Spawn Movie

“Spawn” creator Todd McFarlane has announced that he has officially begun writing the screenplay for a new movie based on the character.

“The story has been in my head for 7 or 8 years,” McFarlane said. “The movie idea is neither a recap or continuation. It is a standalone story that will be R-rated. Creepy and scary.”

He added that “the tone of this ‘Spawn’ movie will be for a more older audience. Like the film ‘Departed.'”

So the old weary artist inside regrets cashing in and making that first piece of shit flick, and now he wants another shot at glory. That, or he hopes that the lingering stench of John Leguizamo has cleared out, and the public will have forgotten his past filmmaking sins. Either way, it should be a spectacular piece of garbage, and I can’t wait to get exceptionally drunk and not watch it.

If he really wants to get my attention, he should make a movie about what a good investment those home run baseballs were.

Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. A thousand times yes.

Sheeni isn’t quite what I imagined, but Steve fucking Buscemi as George F. Twisp? Genius.

I was trying to upgrade the system a couple of weeks ago and inadvertently fouled up everything. Now I’ve unfouled it.

Now I just need something worth writing about.

Holy hannah, they do exist!

Why couldn’t this have happened five years ago? Stupid network execs, giving her those doomed-to-failure TV shows. They’re the ones that are responsible for her shirt staying on all these years, filling her bosoms with false hope that they’d never have to reveal themselves. At least, not unless it’s important to the character, in a really respectable film. Or perhaps your well starts running dry on that last stretch to 30, and a third-rate director offers you a part in his latest shitty horror/drama.

Fun fact: her brother is in this movie. I’m going to let my mind wander on that for a bit.

The handiest recipe you’re likely to come across in your entire life.

Richard and Sal are a hilarious couple of faggots.

Also, if anyone can get me some video of Danny Bonaduce knocking the teeth out of Bob Levy’s mug this weekend, I’d be much obliged.

Today I ascended a mental mountain that I had been avoiding for a long time. When you start waking up some mornings vomiting despite not having any hooch, or even food for that matter on the preceeding evening, you get a bit of tunnel vision on the road of personal achievement. But as I’ve found a regimen that seems to keep me somewhat normal, I’ve begun licking my chops at the signs of a good challenge once again.

Yes true believers, I finally moved up to Hard Mode in Rock Band. And on some decent shit too, not any of those faggot songs in the first four or five tiers.

Next mountain to climb? Right now it’s between taking up a new sport or pursuing sexual congress with a (good looking) black girl. I’m thinking that both will require the same initial level of time commitment, so it’s open to debate.

Pandemic 2 (courtesy of Bongy)

Damn you Madagascar and your 19.4 million survivors, damn you to Hell!