Traditionally I like to start out every column with an apology for the garbage that you are about to read. This week the apology is directed mainly at the non-americans out there who get bored every time I start talking about some kind of American shit, like presidents, etc. Presidents are what we have here instead of the Queen. We have states instead of provinces or islands, and we have astronauts instead of cosmonauts. If you have any other questions I would be glad to explain. We call them french fries for example instead of chips. Chips here are just potato chips, and we don’t have ketchup flavored or pickle flavored like you freako canadians do. Just Cool Ranch, Cheestacular, etc. They say some of our snacks are dangerously cheesy.
Now I know you guys think of americans as a bunch of fucking morons, but I want to be the first to point out that it’s NOT ON US this time. Our hands are clean. The american people had nothin to do with electing that illiterate oil shiek frat boy, black man executing son of a Panama-Iraq invading CIA madman. Everyone knows the other motherfucker won the popular vote. And as far as anybody can tell he probaly woulda won the electoral vote if they were allowed to count the votes that people turned in. I mean anybody’s guess I suppose but let’s assume the best from americans here all right. (read the rest of this shit…)
Well friends it looks like ol’ Vern has some explainin to do. And the sad thing is I don’t have jack shit to say for myself. Sometimes a man just has to do what a man does when he has to do it, or whatever. There comes a time in a man’s personal journey, that is to say in man’s life, that that journey must take a break, or sojourn, in that journey, is what I’m trying to say. A hiatus.
BRUCE WILLIS’S UNBREAKABLE 
This week friends ol’ Vern has a few things he has to get off his chest. A little bitchin and moanin is what I gotta do. So let me run through a few of these points about how, you know, everything is all a bunch of horse shit, etc.
Well here it is Halloween already and fuck if I’ve got into the spirit of the thing. I tried buying a compact disc of John Carpenter’s score to the movie Halloween and I put it on driving around in the pouring rain. And I try to picture that white masked bastard jumping out of nowhere onto my car right when the keyboards do their little electric BYYYOOOOOOO sound and okay, I’m halfway there. But other than that, I mean I got no pumpkins, I got no costume, I got shit.
big spoiler in this old review
INTRODUCTION
Sometimes at my age a fella has to admit he’s not exactly up on things. Not exactly with it. Specially when it seems like every other weekend I’m writing a review for a sequel to some movie where I never even saw the first one. Hell I never even HEARD of the first one half the time how the fuck I’m supposed to seen it already. Cut me some slack buddy.
Well chances are by now you motherfuckers’ve heard about the new hit comedy Meet the Parents. This movie is sweeping the nation. All the sudden everybody loves to laugh. It is the new big thing. People are telling their friends about it. “This is a picture where you laugh.” There is already talk of a sequel even though, I mean how in fuck do you do a sequel to this picture. You can’t.
