Elvis Mitchell cannot write and must be burned

[substitute]

In his frothing and incomprehensible review of the Matrix, he utters this immortal sentence:

[Agent Jones is] again played by the capable Hugo Weaving, who brings an exultant beatitude to laminated malignancy.

Where do you go these days to get your malignancy laminated? Sheesh.

Comments

[springheel-jack.livejournal.com]

That is some fucked up hilarious shit! "Currant-scented voice"? What the fuck could that possibly be about? Is that supposed to be synesthesia? Descriptive turns of phrase do not get better when they get stupider and less conceivably relevant to their subject. Any two english words would have fit equally badly. "Upholstery-muted voice." "Urine-stoked." "Eggplant-poised."

That is some lame offensive retarded junk. Put that one on the literary garbage barge and send it on its way to the currant-scented try-pots of super-duper lame-ass death nuking, or something. What the fuck ever. Does that shit suck or what.

[stimps.livejournal.com]

Mammary-laden potpourri of cottage-cheesy strength. Lettuce-engorged cherry-blossom-hued buttocks of yesteryear.

Gene, this is some good shit. HURBLE BURBLE