Uncle Quentin, big ol’ fan of Hannie Caulder. The bounty hunter mythology alone, but you can see shades of Robert Culp’s Price living on in Django’s Schultz and Bill.
05.03.2026 15:12
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Uncle Quentin, big ol’ fan of Hannie Caulder. The bounty hunter mythology alone, but you can see shades of Robert Culp’s Price living on in Django’s Schultz and Bill.
IMDB trivia says it was going to be a vehicle for the Diceman, which is just wild.
Every Sunday, we put on a cozy 90s flick. My Cousin Vinny even with the shit soundtrack is an absolute gem.
Sleeping with the Enemy. The original, “Uh yeah, 911? I’d like to report a murder.”
AEW knows where its bread gets buttered. Dynamite is a TV show, so let’s give them something to watch. The heart of wrasslin’ shifts. Early 2000s ROH. NXT Black & Gold. Bullet Club. Right now, it’s beating in AEW.
Hear me out. Kenny Omega is the Evil Dead II of wrestlers. The matches start traditionally enough (a cabin in the woods) but then through a series of unavoidable escalations, they end in a vortex straight to hell.
Death Rides a Horse. My flavor of Western is spaghetti.
The Island. My two favorite lines: “Just 'cause people wanna eat the burger doesn't mean they wanna meet the cow.” And “Jesus must love you! That was the craziest mess I've ever seen! Come on, girl. I know Jesus loves you.”
Peacock firehosed the Reggie Dinkins promos. It worked. Effective Frequency Theory. Shit is funny.
Big Magic. Recommended by a talented fella in one of my writing groups. “I want to live the most vividly temporary life that I can... I don't want to be afraid of bright color, or new sounds, or big love, or risky decisions, strange experiences... or even failure.”
“Give me back my son!” I remember the epicness of the Ransom trailer. All momentum, listing out the stars. Bang. Bang. Bang. “Gary Sinise.” And going, “Oh, he’s the bad guy.” In the flick, it isn’t a mystery; but the trailer conjured up an aura of a whodunit.
I track my media intake on this thing, and for two straight weeks it’s been dead air. The Olympics took over.
Sophomores watching this over the book are gonna be fucked…
Charting well outside the Top 100, PLOT DROPPERS!
A simple game. One movie. Three men. Two have seen it. One hasn’t. Five minutes apiece to drop the plot before the one flying blind takes over for the finale.
open.spotify.com/episode/5R42...
The whole company rests on this husky boy’s shoulders.
Baron Zemo: Your American dream ended long ago! You’re better off dead than a brainwashed solider guarding a rotted corpse! (I’m on a Stuart Immonen binge.)
Find whatever rock Johnny Weir crawled under and kick it over. It’s time for the Winter Olympics 2026.
Rereading these fifteen years later, it’s incredible how I have zero clue what’s going on, even with a recap page. “Wait, Bullseye is Hawkeye? Why are the Avengers on the run? Civil War, maybe… Why is Jessica Jones not acting like Jessica Jones?” Stuart Immonen, so the action pops.
Send Help. Tremendous. I imagine Sam directing is always “Bigger,” and “I’m sorry, can we get more INSERT DISGUSTING SUBSTANCE into their mouth?”
I rewatch these Knives Out movies like they’re on a marathon cycle on TBS. Wake Up Dead Man. It’s stained glass. Clever stuff, man.
Air Force One: "You talk as if you have nothing to do with this! This is all of your doing, this infection you call freedom, without meaning, without purpose. You have given my country to gangsters and prostitutes. You have taken everything from us! There is nothing left!"
Anaconda ‘25: “Buffalo sober. Mhm. Just beer and wine… And then some of the lighter liquors.”
Krakoa’s Stormwatch. That Pepe Larraz, man. Like Stuart Immonen and Marc Silvestri made it.
Finishing a polish on a feature and I’m trying on a western pilot as a piece of ginger.
GHOST TOWN. In a crumbling mall, an aging hardcore kid plays sheriff to the broken, bitter, and forgotten. But when order collapses, he’s forced to reckon with the rot he’s spent his life denying. #scriptsky
Blood Hunt. Marvel does DC’s Final Night, plus vampires.
Do you love excessive casual swearing? Boy-o, do I have a podcast for you!
PLOT DROPPERS. A simple game. One movie. Three men. Two have seen it. One hasn’t. Five minutes apiece to drop the plot before the one flying blind takes over for the finale.
open.spotify.com/episode/4hrk...
Overwhelmed with a feeling of anemoia (nostalgia for a time never experienced) when I watch a thing like Disneyland Handcrafted.
Ha! I can't break that validation addiction... Somebody tell me I'm pretty.
With the death of Coverfly, how do you all keep track of your contest entries, #scriptsky? I have a trench coat filled with screenplays, and I’m pretty good at pimping my latest, greatest wares (DIVE BAR, you should read it), but it’s all fogging over. A nightmare spreadsheet?
My intro to The Wicker Man was Nic Cage flipping out about bees. Lo and behold, the original had something profound to say about absolutism.