A Random Collection of the Best Comments from 2010
By Dustin Rowles | Posted Under Eloquent Eloquence | Comments (67)
At least that’s what I learned last night on Fox News. —Very Gullible
Ladies, don’t get us wrong, we find much of the ‘scaping endearing, we really do. But the fact of the matter is while some of us might have gotten used to some of the finer details and might cry if they were ceased, in the end if we really like you, Twilight Labia Sparkles will not make a lick of difference. The human race has gotten this far without screwing the jewlery, and as silly looking as the human genitalia of both genders has evolved into, it is difficult to argue that even without added bells and whistles it can still pretty satisfactory.
By the way, I did notice they tried to angle this for men too. I dare any woman to look at a man with a be/va/ta Jazzled scrotum and not piss themselves in hysterics. Brings new meaning to disco balls. —bluejayone
Also, I’m not sure whether I consider my number too high or too low, but know this: I blame everything on a series of blackout drunks. — Skitz
(The above comment, like 70 percent of the comments on this page, was written by me, which is why I chose them. — DR)
MUST DEFEND RPATTZ’S HONOR!!!
The Pattinson is using the unicorn semen to style his locks. It’s created an ENCHANTED FUCKING FOREST of hair that I wish to run my hands through, grip and ride that fucking pony until I broke it.
…and now I have Pony by Ginuine in my head.
You people just have no sense of wonder left. I mean what do you style your hair with? I’ll bet you it’s just gel. Pffft. —popejenn
You can put your finger on it, but you have to take her to dinner and a movie first. —coveredinbees
In light of your demonstrated appreciation for Russell Edward Brand (“Russell Brand”, “the actor”) (formerly, “the English actor”) notice is hereby given of the transfer of all rights and obligations (rights presumed to be few of any use and obligations presumed to be many) associated with Russell Brand’s work and person, from Britain to the United States. The payment for Russell Brand has already been received, with thanks, from yourselves, and hence this transfer is effective immediately.
First please let us take this opportunity to point out that Russell Brand is not as much a mistake as he is a failed attempt to adjust our balance of trade. Now that we have found there is not as much oil in the North Sea as we hoped, the banks are gone, the high-tech plan does not appear to be working out and in the absence of any other viable exports that you Americans would want to buy, there was simply not a lot else we could do.
On the matter of ownership of said actor, which some of your have questioned earlier: what you buy is generally presumed to be yours to keep. The mere necessity of spelling this out brings to light what the rest of the world have known for quite a while now - it was not you who invented capitalism, rather, it was a Scotsman named Adam Smith.
We regret the moderate detriment which we expect Russell Brand will cause to your pop culture, but could not do otherwise — the French would not take him. Unfortunately our return policy does not provide for either repair or replacement or full or partial refund for Russell Brand, were your tastes to improve in the future. Thank you for shopping with Britain.
Yours faithfully,
Britishers
P.S. We are still awaiting payment for Rowan Atkinson, whom we shall be happy to ship, at no extra cost to you, to your specified delivery address as soon as the payment is received.
P.P.S. But we are keeping BP. — SB
Edward: NO! I want you to get old! I want to be the one that lovingly changes your Depends. Just the thought of your freesia scent mixed with Ben Gay is enough to make me not want to tear that shit up.
Jacob: I’ll do you…
Bella: Um, yeah, Jacob… I don’t like you in that way. But I’m happy to keep you around as my dry-hump buddy until I can convince this other dude to stop being such a prude and nail me with his marble-hard, venom-drenched vampire boner.
Edward: Marry me! Marry me so I can make you undead and then we WILL GO TO TOWN, BITCH.
Bella: Ew. Marriage is gay. College is gay. Rough sex on the other hand…
Jacob: Two words: Doggie-style
Edward: I’m made out of stone. Think about it.
Bella: Decisions, decisions… —courtney
Joyful and triumphant.
Oh come, all ye Buttholes
on Buttholey Day.
Cum and goatse it.
Scatalogical it.
Oh come, all ye Buttholes
on Buttholey Day! —BWeaves
dumbasses that love the Underworld movies. So all I have to say to you
is eat a big pile of shit you fucking cock jockey. I am sure you can
find some there is a ton of it streamming out of your mouth.
P.S. FUCK YOU.
As for Kate. I am a true fan and not of just your ass. You have been
great in everything I have ever seen you in. It is just to bad that
people like this aftermath of a rabid dog cluster fuck does’t have
anything better to do than wine about other people and what they can
do.
P.S.P.S. Man you are a DICK!!!!!!! — Adam D
Ummmmm…. —Clown
I’m happy for you B’Slim. I made hummus for me and my younger kid. It’s all gone now, but we’re happy and satisfied. —Reba
God bless you and your family. —BarbadoSlim
What the fuck? —Scully
And despite the fact that Sean Connery made Zardoz AND The League of Extraordinary Gentleman AND had time to tell Barbara Walters he slaps his wife around occasionally, even he’s telling Henry Jones Jr. to hang em up.
If you’re out there Indy, I still love you.
(p.s. just browsed Indy’s IMDB page. Did you know his character name in Random Hearts was “Dutch Van Den Broek”? First off, Dutch was retired by Arny in Predator. Second of all, the idea that he’s named “Dutch” is redundant when your last name is “Van Den Broek”. That’s like having a character named “German von Hitzlespringerstock” or “Italian De Scungilli”, or “Irish McPugilisticDrinklotsFreckleFace”. —D-Day
Yeah? I’ll empathy you, studio executives! I’ll empathy you right to the jaw, and you’ll wind up on your back watching cartoon birds fly around! I’ll unleash nuclear levels of empathy that leave you staggering through an empathetic wasteland, feeling all the pain you’ve caused all the fans of all those lovely books. Then, when you’re on your knees screaming “It was supposed to be HARMLESS! We didn’t know Percy Jackson would hurt so many innocent people!” I’ll give you just one more tiny blast — maybe the flying death eaters in Harry Potter, maybe Tom Bombadil — and watch you collapse, shuddering, full of the pain of others. And, so watching, I will grow strong, and I will crush your studios and build a new one, a better, truer one. And in this haven for bibliophiles Neil Gaiman will write the scripts and books will be respected and Daniel Radcliffe will be banned from the premises. —esme
The mission was a massive technical feat, flawless and perfectly executed. But there was something else in the air as soon as we got that first proof of life from the inside of the mine. Hope, relief, whatever you wanna call it. It was bigger than everyone involved. For some people it was love, for others it was God, and for others it was both.
We’re happy and proud. I’m not particularly religious, but I’m amazed at what faith can do for the human spirit. Faith kept those men alive and gave them the will to be patient. Some people meditate, others jog, others knit. The miners prayed. Maybe it’s not what many of us would’ve done, but I say do whatever works to keep you alive. —THE Sofía
Morrie does all of the Decepticon’s energon-accounting, and can fire out a dummy droid named Bubbie who can lull you to sleep with tales of “the old country”, and confuse nearby Autobots with Yiddish gibberish and anachronistic anecdotes.
Morrie’s weaknesses consist of anything German, “the rap music…oy!”, shiksahs, and excess sugar which sends his glucose levels all kinds of outta whack.
There is also a super powered version of Morrie, so beware if he is able to get his hands on an entire collection of Mel Brooks movies—he may become…unstoppable. —D-Day
PaddyDog - I have pie. Real pie. Not the dream pie your id makes with raisins, recriminations and the newly-discovered sexual allure of Matt LeBlanc. —Mrs. Julien
All your Ryans
are belong to us. — Canada
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Far be it from you, sir, to opine about the shortcomings of a film about the trials and tribulations of growing up a sparkly vampire. Have you ever been sparkly, Mr. Rowles? Well I have and let me educate you on something; we face challenges that would make lesser men weep. Have you any idea what it’s like to fight off legions of horny unicorns that just want to ‘do your hair’ every single day. I think not. Can you portend to understand the horror of being mounted at any time and having a large equine phallus shoved in your face? Do you know how much money his sparkly highness has to spend on shampoo to get all that unicorny love butter out? For shame, sir. For shame. I expect this type of cold, heartless, repulsive anti-filmism from other sites; but I never thought I’d find it here. —Sparkletits
Jaleel White explodes the crocosaurus by piloting a helicopter down its throat to place a tactical nuke on its left tonsil, immediately after incinerating the megashark with a well-placed oil tanker and a flare gun. As the smoke clears in slow motion, Jaleel flies the chopper into the sunset, lights a cigar, smirks into the camera and remarks:
“Did I do that?”
Anything other than that, and I will burn the WORLD. —Mario Speedwagon
It’ll be like owning a puppy that’s eternally fluffy, but the fluffy puppy owns a cobra. So that, while you’re playing with the fluffy puppy, every fifteen minutes or so, the cobra bites you in the jugular. And then, after about an hour, the puppy runs off and then the neighborhood feral cat comes over to chill with you and the cobra, but instead of being fluffy, he’s way too pudgy (because everyone give him too much credit, I mean food) and then marks his territory all over your couch. Gross. Good thing I’ll be asleep by then.
Whatever, cobra bites and cat piss win over Jay Leno any day. —Kayanne
For starters, what’s not to love about a movie that celebrates proper grammar IN THE FUCKING TITLE!?!?! Commas people. FUCKING COMMAS. stopthemadness
Shatner shall shout shitty schtick like that twitterer twitted shitty twits ‘till Shatner’s spiel spawns shitty spin-off twittered tweets. —Cindy
I’m sure we’ll all recall back to 2007, when Tracer Bullet became the first African American man to leave the first comment on a Pajiba review for “Bridge to Terabithia.” Breaking the race barrier like that and showing all the world that regardless of race, creed or religion we are all equally obnoxious witty — it was an astounding feat, and we are lucky to be reminded of such glorious times.
Donna, for those of us who have never been lucky enough to click on a new link with a virgin comments section, or who cannot click on the “post comment” tab below without checking our comments for grammatical and spelling errors (and for rampant stupidity) — to us you are an inspiration. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say “Thank you.”
From the bottom of my heart, dearest Donna — congratulations. People like you are why the rest of us can dream of murdering strangers. —superasente
Except for Oklahoma. Fuck that shit. —Mrcreosote
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with a photo of her dead mom in her suitcase and a heart of gold in her chest.
To this:
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with a photo of her dead mom in her chest and a heart of gold in her suitcase.
And that’s a movie I’d pay to watch. —RobP
How about this:
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with the heart of her dead mom in a suitcase and a photo of gold in a chest. —Yossarian
Burlesque is your typical small-town dead mom goes to Los Angeles with the chest of a girl in a suitcase and a photo of a gold heart. —Perfect Tommy
Burlesque is your typical small-chest girl goes to town in Los Angeles with a suitcase of gold and a photo of her dead mom’s heart. —Yossarian
Burlesque is your typical small-town mom goes to Los Angeles with a dead girl’s chest in her suitcase and a photo of a heart of gold. —Kargoyle
Burlesque is your typical small-town heart of gold goes to suitcase with a photo of Los Angeles in her mom’s chest. It was directed by Michel Gondry, from a Charlie Kaufman script. — Shane
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with her dead mom’s heart in her gold suitcase and a photo of a chest.
Apparently she’s heading for Beverly Hills and killed her mother for the insurance to pay for getting bigger tits. Unfortunately, she made a wrong turn and ended up in West Hollywood. Worse for her she locked her keys in the car along with her mother’s tell-tale heart and as we know California afternoons aren’t cool.
Her only hope is to take refuge in a local Mormon strip bar, “Coque Teez”, headed up by Cherilyn Kabukimask, the oldest yodeling hooker in L.A. who only recently took the title from one Anna Mae Bullock.
Will our fugitive songbird become the next warbling whore of the Sunset Strip? Will Kabukimask step aside? And will some PLEASE find out what stinks so bad in that Louis Vuitton? —bleujayone
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Comments
Posted by: BarbadoSlim at December 30, 2010 12:08 PM
Where the fuck IS Kayanne?