Tuesday, July 12, 2011


Caught the tail end of Cyrus. That's the Cyrus about serial killers and not the Cyrus about Jonah Hill cockblocking John C. Reilly. Which, speaking of the Hill/Reilly Cyrus, you should check out. But back to the shitty serial killer one...

I've seen serial killer movies before. The killer is always a deeply disturbed person. Look, I'm not a moron. I understand you'd have to be disturbed to kill people, eat people, or kill then eat people, or bang then kill then eat people, or dress up in the skin of another person, tuck your penis between your legs, and pretend you're your sister. All quite disturbing. I get it.

(And it won't work, by the way. You can tuck it all back but it's impossible to stand up straight afterward)


(I hear)

But watching Cyrus I was reminded of how similar the craziness is with all of the killers immortalized in film. They're always that scary, psycho crazy. Never, just odd crazy.

Like, for once I'd like to hear about how the serial killer would abduct people and force them to play scrabble for hours on end. Maybe he only kills them if he can't beat them. One that makes that bitch he just yanked from a deserted park wallpaper his house and dance to ABBA with him. They can't all be the exact kind of fucked up, can they?

But the worst part of the movie was the young man and young woman interviewing some dude who knows all about Cyrus (Who was never found) and he offers to take them to see the house Cyrus used. In the middle of the night. And they agreed! And, surprise, he was in cahoots with Cyrus!

Oh, and how did we watch that movie?

On our Apple Tv.

Suck it.

If I get off my ass this week and rewrite it, I'll post the story of how my fiance and I accidentally committed a hate crime.

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