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?!
Evil Cooper and Chechen President Ramzan Kadyrov have both been on a rampage, but who did what?
"Your left eye," the optometrist casually explained while blasting my face with a blue laser at point blank range, "is farsighted and shaped like an eyeball. The other eye is nearsighted and shaped like a football. Not even a good football."
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