Dear Knives Out,
I barely remember you but I do remember you having bad breath. Something about an old rich white dude living in and old rich white dude house with a young hot Hispanic ‘caretaker’, right? I mean smoking hot. A bunch of rich white kids and grandkids too, right? Tony Curtis’ kid. That lady I loved from Wolf of Snow Hollow. Captain America. And an English guy trying woefully to pull off a Deep South accent. Emphasis on woeful. Right? All that? I think so. Someone died and these people wanted his inheritance money but the guy with the terrible accent had to figure out if it was murder? I remember liking you and we had a fun time but that’s about it. Now that I look back on our time together, I can see old memories of our past. The kid from Looper. Don “Swinging Dick No That’s A Cigar Wait My Daughter Did What?” Johnson. General Zod. I think that’s about it really. You were good and all but we had to move on and our weekend was fun. Oh and if you forgot too, it just came to me. Remember it was New Years Eve and we both were at that party and we both drank at least two bottles of champagne and I had no telling how many beers but you threw up and I held your head out of the toilet and helped you yo the couch and then we went ahead and made out anyway and it was disgusting but hey I got to make out happy new year to me. That’s the kind of bad breath you had, but hey I made out with someone! *makes fists, sticks out thumbs and index fingers, waves them around and makes pew pew pew noises*
Film “God I Hate Writing These On My Phone” Miasma
TO: ALL THE OLD KNIVES
RE: THANDIWE NEWTON AND CHRIS PONE OOPS I MEAN PIBE PIVE POBE OMFG PINE!!!
WHY IS THE NAME CHANGED FROM THANDIE TO THANDIWE WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME WHY IS THIS HOW CAN YOU EXPECT THIS TO FLY DO YOU CATCH MY DRIFT DO YOU GET THE PICTURE DO YOU GET MY GIST WTF MAN THANDIWE IS OK BUT JUST OUT OF THE BLUE ARGH IM NOT STUPID I WATCHED WESTWORLD THAT WOULD BE LIKE CHANGING CLANCY BROWN TO CLANKIMEE BRAUN AND NOT WARNING ANYONE OR OR WHATS THAT LADYS NAME OH YEAH BARBARA CRAMPTON TO BABS JACKSON AND EXPECTING ME TO BE OK WITH IT SORRY FOR ALL CAPS OOPS OH SHIT WELL SHIT SORRY AGAIN BUT BABS JACKSON FOR REAL PLEASE HOW ABOUT A MEMO HAHA GET YOUR RED HOT MEMOS HERE COME ONE COME ALL HOT OFF THE PRESSES HAVE A MEMO FREE BROWN EGGS IN THE SECOND FLOOR BREAKROOM THANDIWE SHEESH OH WELL I THOUGHT YOUR MOVIE WAS PRETTY GOOD ANYWAY EVEN IF IT WAS PRETTY MOTHER GOOSING SLOW CHRIS POBE HAHAHAHA POBE
I write to you, forlornly, from my post at The Offices of State, from which I cannot walk home, nor bi-cycle to your embrace as my leg has been lost to The Septic Agent which The Vile Strep leaves behind, festering and bubbling within our blood, finding purchase in our bones, rotting them, making them soggy as a medium rare veal cutlet also of which I can not have, convalescing as I am as well as un-able to slaughter and render, much less carve, my supper. O how I long for your Touch, your suckered tentacles surrounding my abdomen, nursing off of my corpulescense. One day we shall be together my love. One day we will rub our furry and engorged genitals against each other and both issue forth our separate fluids to mingle within each other, much like the congregation of our chapel each Wednesday and Sunday evenings, swaying to the sounds of Charlie Luckabee blowing into his Winds. But, my polished beloved, the winds have carried words, no, symphonies, that you are to be in the pictures, a dancing starlet, as beautiful and stunning as the reflections of sunlight in the morning dew, the way the droplets prismatize the effects of light off of our beloved goose Ariel, who I long to stroke, as before, as you would work my erect manliness, underneath the belly of the milk cow. Lo, i pray deeply eight times a day as The Gracious Lord Intends and Commands that you have not fallen into the Abyss of the Horned Dammed and self gratified your burning loins on the body of a scarecrow or murdered your parents less your beautiful friend and my sister. I also submit myself to the Almighty that you have not met a stunning gypsy camera worker at local talkies, taken him home and pounded him over and over, through the night until his stomach, testicles and anus were bruised and unrecognizable, covered with welps and polyps, as you left me the day I left for this post, swollen and blistered. Perhaps that’s why I got so sick, the ejaculate, so much emission. In closing, I do love and miss you so and if anyone were to read these words, in my gnarled and syphilitics handwriting, and did not gather my intentions, I enjoyed this film much more than the first, especially the grotesque montage sequence towards the end.
Dearest Love and Prolonged Rigidity,
Your Beloved Uncle Pee Pee Marshmallow
Dear Sir or Madam,
A sequel? Well I guess this was pretty good but Craig’s accent is somehow getting worse, if that’s possible. Also – was that really Kate Hudson slinking around in that two piece bathing suit? I feel like it had to be a double. Anyway – I’d like to use this place to say something for a second, since most of our history and knowledge still gets handed down by word of mouth.
Last night I saw someone put something on Twitter about how Rod Stewart used to put pills filled with cocaine up his asshole so he wouldn’t have to snort it and ruin his (IMO) already shitty voice but ok , good for him. Innovate! You’re doing great! In the comments someone immediately went into how Richard Gere stuck gerbils in his ass etc etc etc. Blah blah I’ve heard that since the 80s. I’m not a guy that puts things up my butt but, as a problem solver type of guy, I’ve never understood that story or even why someone would put a live animal inside their own body. That just doesn’t make any goddammed sense.
Some years later after hearing that thing over and over and over after Gere married Cyndi Crawford and ruined hidden masturbation for millions of people everywhere, I met a girl whose mom had been an Emergency Room nurse back in the 70s. I honestly don’t remember how or why we started talking about gerbils up butts but we did and — back in the late 70s there were these two brothers who were rich furniture salesmen and local TV celebrities around here. The way she told me I guess one night one of the brothers came into the emergency room and had a Gerbers baby food bottle stuck in his rectum and had to have it removed. Gerber, gerbil. I get the connection and I’m not sticking up for Gere because I’ve never liked him as an actor and despise him for defiling Cyndi Crawford but I had to get that off my chest while I was thinking about it.
To Whom It May Concern,
What kind of douchebag pretentio- oh wait – crap, I’ve read on Twitter the last few months that it’s impolite and just not nice to criticize a movie or the filmmaker because, as we should just all fucking know and realize, a lot of work and shit goes into making a movie and, I guess, by not liking it or appreciating it enough, people like me aren’t worth dick and just don’t get it. I think the people who write those kinds of things must not have seen the kinds of things some of us normal people watch who don’t pander to bullshit like that western where the dude punched the horse or anything remotely French but, guess what, some of the shit goes out there mainstream is just fucking ridiculous but in the end, your 300 synonyms for my guilt and sorrow win out so I’ll try and express my displeasure here if you don’t mind.
I watched this entire feature and I didn’t care for anything at all very much except for the voice of the lead actress. I hated the lead actor and he irritated me to no end. I hated the people in the shadows walking in front of the screen to some lame piano sound scares that were prolific and thorough throughout the entire thing. I hated when the lights went out on the porch and I hated when they played a pretentious record called “LSD”. I hated when the guy jacked off in the sink and I hated the stupid car they drove up there. I guess I did kind of like the architecture of the house and the way that either the residents who lived there decorated it or your prop people did but then I hated the whole thing with the barrels out in the woods and the scene I have stolen a picture of and placed below this paragraph. I also hated when the actress had the sequins all over her face and I wanted to harm myself watching the end credits. I guess I’m sorry I didn’t like your movie but, in the end, I appreciate that something got made because my screenplay never did so well played sir. Or madam. I forget and can’t be dicked to go look it up.
In conclusion, go fuck yourself.
KNIVES OUT FILED UNDER: AT LEAST THEY TRIED
ALL THE OLD KNIVES FILED UNDER: AT LEAST THEY TRIED
PEARL FILED UNDER: THEY ALMOST MADE IT TO THE HAPPY FINISH
GLASS INION FILED UNDER: AT LEAST THEY TRIED
A WOUND FAWN FILED UNDER:WORSE THEN THE DRAFT BEER SHITS
6 thoughts on “to all the old knives out, the pearl onion has wounded the fawn”
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Here’s to you 🍻🍻🍻🍻🍻
Dear Film Miasma,
Just dropping by to say hello, and to say I was disappointed in Knives Out so much that I didn’t watch the new one. This review you’ve done in letter form, is *chef’s kiss* great. I’m envious.
Your old pal,
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I’ve missed you! How are you doing? Nothing exciting to report here. The Sooner football season sucked and the men’s basketball team has a bad night almost every time they play. This has been a sad sports season for your man in Oklahoma. Hopefully the women’s softball have another good year. It’s really nice today so I’m having a cigar on the back patio. I hope you’re doing great!
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Liked Knives Out but Glass Onion was disappointing. Not seen the Thandiwe movie but remember reading why she was going back to her original name of Thandiwe (says she was forced to change it or some shit). I’ll watch Pearl when it pops up on services but I wasn’t impressed with X. At all. That other movie you watched…. What the fuck is that shit?!? Do you like torturing yourself??? Lol 😆
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That last one – hahaha! That was some serious bullshit! If a movie could go fuck itself this one is at the top of the list! Stupid thing. I liked Pearl a lot more than X.