Monday, March 28, 2005

Hail, hail East Germany, land of fruit and grape. Land where you'll regret if you try to escape

Val Kilmer is the fucking man. Not the Man man, but at the very least in the 98th percentile.

While I respect that being a celebrity comes with certain limitations of personal privacy, this is just a skosh over the top. Actually, while we're on the subject, I know all you dear readers enjoy the portion of the Stew-niverse that you get to experience vicariously here... but if you ever start talking to me while I'm riding a speeder bike, I'll fucking kill you.

A guy I knew in Jr. High allegedly had a similar run-in with Michael Keaton at the Final Four one year. The results were about the same. Mr. Mom was cool about the whole thing...
Must be part of strapping on a big rubber suit with enhanced nipples. I'm not sure the boys in marketing were thinking about Bruce Wayne chatting people up in the loo when they put out casting calls.
I wonder which restroom Christian Bale hung out in to get his job in the new Batman movie? Actually, scratch that thought. I definitely don't want to know what happened after someone quoted Newsies in the crapper.


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