film / tv / substack / social media / lists / web / celeb / pajiba love / misc / about / cbr
film / tv / substack / web / celeb


A Random Collection of the Best Comments from 2010

By Dustin Rowles | Eloquent Eloquence | December 30, 2010 |

By Dustin Rowles | Eloquent Eloquence | December 30, 2010 |

  • Everybody knows there’s no such thing as black children, they hatch from underground tar pits and surf up as liquid material through the cracks in urban streets before they congeal at surface level to be educated by the nearest adoptive gang-banger. Then they posture for my hard earned tax dollars with their “social justice” so they can like, go to school or whatever, but really they just want to rob the white man’s money. Then when they get older they try to use reverse racism to get fancy jobs in high-paying government positions so they sully the good name of our greatest American President, Ronald H. Christ Reagan.

    At least that’s what I learned last night on Fox News. —Very Gullible

  • Since the beginning of time, men have always been able to recognize the value that is what some refer to as “down there”. Oh sure women have done little things to the overall presentation of it over the eons; trimmed the hedges, deforested the area, dyed it, artificially perfumed it, doused in hot wax and assaulted, tattooed, pierced, and slathered it in confectionery…. And now you can glue little faux gemstones all over it and the general vicinity thereof.

    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

  • I’ve been quiet on this for far too long, and it’s time I set shit straight. Cap’n Rowles called me about nine months ago in a drunken stupor, and from what I could piece together, he basically admitted to being about seventy percent of the people on that list. Sure, there’s a small handful of commenters that actually exists (myself excluded), but the majority of this shit goes down in Dustin’s carhole, where he’s got a Dell wired to a car battery and more malt-liquor than you could shake a dwarf’s femur at. Sad, really.
    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)


    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

  • I’m smelling a trend in today’s Trade News, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. —branded

    You can put your finger on it, but you have to take her to dinner and a movie first. —coveredinbees

  • Dear citizens of the United States of America:

    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,

    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

  • Bella: I want to be undead. Oh, but I want to get laid first.

    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

  • mfff brff frff mrrfff —Human Centipede - Segment Two

  • Butthole faithful,
    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

  • I had the misfortune to stumble on this site. I guess I am one of the
    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

    P.S.P.S. Man you are a DICK!!!!!!! — Adam D

  • So, no: Sorry, folks. I don’t want to watch a rape movie. Rape movies aren’t funny, unless — as someone around here used to say — it’s the rape of clown. Because clown rape is always funny.

    Ummmmm…. —Clown

  • I ate pancakes today. I wasn’t going to but I did and they were fluffy and delicious. I’m glad I ate pancakes. —BarbadoSlim

    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

  • Harrison Ford is the American Sean Connery.

    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

  • the only true weapon is empathy

    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

  • What admin said is true. A lot of people were bothered by the fact that so many Chileans, including our president, thanked God for the success of the rescue mission. In some cases, it was the same people who complain about religious people oppressing them.

    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

  • The Jewish Decepticon is a very safe, very value-friendly late ’90s Subaru Forrester named Morrie, whose weaponry consists of a guilt-ray that turns anyone in its path into a sad sack unworthy of his/her mother’s love. Also located on the forearms are a bevy of grenade launchers that fire out awful food, over-cooked and inedible, only countered by ordering Chinese take-out that will deliver to the Lower East Side.

    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

  • I had a dream about Alec Baldwin last night. I find this post an interesting intersection of my subconscious and what I assume to be the waking world. —PaddyDog

    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

  • Dear Mr Rowles,
    All your Ryans
    are belong to us. — Canada

  • Okay, since you brought up his name, please someone enlighten me as to why people like Bradley Cooper? He looks like an emu. He has crazy giant maniacal eyes in a strange lurching head that’s perched on a body that’s too small to support it. He can’t act: it’s the same grinning and failing attempt at charm in every movie and he has way too many rom-coms in his corner to be taken seriously. —PaddyDog


  • Mr. Rowles, I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with your list. While I can appreciate that you don’t posses the necessary intelligence to grasp the deeper social commentary behind such excellent works as Paul Blart, New Moon and especially Year One, I find it extremely distasteful that you and your staff ceaselessly deride these masterpieces and continue to single them out by placing them on ‘worst of’ lists. We are supposed to live in a country where films of all genres can be treated with equality and respect without fear of reprisal for representing their particular viewpoints or morals. Indeed, this is a country wherein even the stinkiest of turds may reach that loftiest of goals that all films have: winning that golden dildo thing at that ceremony where all the pretty people suck on each others asses.

    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

  • The movie can end one way, and one way only.

    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

  • Ah, the old correlation = causation sophistry! Back in the ’50s, the Filipino government was trying to determine how to increase birth control use among its population. So they asked a bunch of families to fill out a questionnaire about their daily lives to determine what lifestyle factors led to increased birth control use. The single most correlated item was whether or not the family owned a toaster. Where there be toasters, there be rubbers. So, hand out a bunch of toasters, and problem solved! —sansho1

  • Good for Conan getting to put his foot down and get what he wants. And way to go TBS for making a smart decision. However, this does mean that when I watch Conan, I’ll get a billion ads for their Tyler Perry shows.

    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

  • I sisterfucking love motherfucking Love, Actually.
    For starters, what’s not to love about a movie that celebrates proper grammar IN THE FUCKING TITLE!?!?! Commas people. FUCKING COMMAS. stopthemadness

  • I have never followed the pitter patter of the shit twitter, but I am still certain the Shat shall shine. There has to be a tongue twister in here somewhere.
    Shatner shall shout shitty schtick like that twitterer twitted shitty twits ‘till Shatner’s spiel spawns shitty spin-off twittered tweets. —Cindy

  • Donna, I’d like to offer you my sincere congratulations on commenting first. Like winning the 50 meter dash, commenting first on a new post takes skill and determination that none of the rest of us can hope to match. Truely you are an inspiration.

    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

  • Fuck. You. I fucking love the god damned experience that is a broadway fucking musical. I’ve seen a chorus line with Mario Lopez and he ROCKED that shit. I saw Chicago on broadway on tour and the movie and let me tell you it fucking ROCKED MY WORLD!!! There is nothing better than a group of people breaking into song for no apparent fucking reason. In my view the entire run of Buffy was just prelude to the GREATNESS that was the musical episode. I sit at my drab little cubicle EVERY FUCKING DAY waiting for the rousing string section that will enable me to LEAP from my seat and perform an intricately choreographed number with kicks and props and possibly harmonies. DAMN YOU not not loving the joy, pain and singing orgasm that IS the MUSICAL!

    Except for Oklahoma. Fuck that shit. —Mrcreosote

  • Change this:

    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