Hydrogen: "You get to watch...uh, line? You get to watch me blow her BRAIN...S...UP?" And that's the take they went with, ladies and gentlemen.
Trillaphon: With every clip we watch I'm a little more convinced that there was never an actual director and this whole thing was just some sort of spontaneous anarcho-communal street theater flash mob clusterfuck.
Hydrogen: "I've got more than a newspaper, and you get to guess what it is! Oh I'm tired of waiting, SURPRISE it's a gun!"
Trillaphon: "I've got something big and hard in my pants, and it isn't my penis, but is in fact a gun, instead."
Trillaphon: "...wait, how does this joke go again? Let me start over. Today's top story: This Gun I'm Holding, no, wait..."
Hydrogen: There's just no fucking way anyone involved in making this movie has ever had an actual conversation with another human being.
Trillaphon: Or overheard one, or read about one in passing.
Hydrogen: QUO PASO?! QUE PASO?!
This isn't about harassment. It's about ethics in cat journalism.
Can you please give Golgura a trophy? How about Tallest Monster? I speak not for Golgura now. He is stepping on us villagers out of anger. In his wisdom he has flattened my son.
Something Awful reviews the absolute worst movies out there. We focus mostly on horror and science fiction, because all writers here on Something Awful are huge nerds.