Nov 15 2012
OK, here’s the deal: I’m not in the mood to write a long introductory paragraph for this list article. I’m just not. It’s not that I don’t enjoy haphazardly analyzing my favorite directors. I do. However, I made a promise to a certain Sara Clemens that, as penance for ruining her Christmas last month, I would guzzle 12 ounces of Absinthe before writing this week’s article. (This was a terrible idea, my intern keeps shouting. And I don’t even have an intern.) Unfortunately, I forgot to tell Paul about this promise until yesterday, and I’ll be goddamned if that conversation headed in the direction I wanted it to. ———
TJ: Oh hey, man.
P: Dude… I really thought we were past all this stuff.
TJ: I know, right? Whelp, two more years of Obama, I guess! Chaaaaaaaaaaange!
P: What? Two mor—OK, first of all, are you even registered to vote?
TJ: I think so. There’s a grace period or something for parolees, right?
P: Never mind.
TJ: Done and done.
P: Listen, what did you mean in your last e-mail when you said that…hang on, I’ll get the exact quote… “things are about to get very, very real up in here”?
TJ: No idea, dude. The green fairies are doing their thing with my interns.
P: So you were serious about the Absinthe?
TJ: As serious as the Teej Machine gets, bro.
P: Goddamnit, you were serious about the Absinthe.
TJ: Listen, if it makes you feel any better, everything I plan on writing about is pretty f**ked up, too. It’s a list or something about Tarantino’s most f**ked-up movie moments.
P: OK. First of all, everything you ever plan on writing about is pretty f**ked up. That’s actually part of the reason my job exists. If it were up to you, Unreality would just be a series of list articles about Care Bears and Liam Neeson.
TJ: Dude, if you’re trying to shoot down my “Liam Neeson vs. Bears” roundup again, you can forge—”
P: Ugh, I hate that I approved that pitch. Just take it easy this time, yeah?
TJ: Sorry man, no promises. Tarantino stuff.
P: I hate you.
TJ: Fair enough.
Reservoir Dogs – “You weren’t using that ear, were you?”
All right, let’s just get this one out of the way. If you’re reading this after the jump, you’re at least partially a Tarantino fan, and if you’re at least partially a Tarantino fan, you’re at least mostly familiar with Michael Madsen’s sweet dance moves (and also K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the 70s). Everything about this scene makes me brilliantly uncomfortable. That’s not how you talk into an ear. It just isn’t.
Kill Bill (Vol. 1) – “What are you here for again, Buck?”
This is one of my favorite Tarantino flicks, and I’ll admit, it’s tough to pay attention to anything in it that doesn’t involve the color yellow or a samurai sword. Nevertheless, it’s a bit of a [physiologically truncated] process for The Bride to get back on her feet (heyo!), and part of that process involves years of implied rape. There’s so much going on in this movie, it’s easy to forget that while The Bride was lying comatose for X amount of years in a hospital bed, some white-trash asshole was whoring her out to whoever had $75 and mommy issues. [Bonus factoid! Tarantino might have a foot fetish.]
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