The Limits of Control, a movie review by Drunk Dan
Drunk Dan here, ladies and germinators. I saw a film today, oh boy. Its called "the limits of control" and its by Jim Jarmish. Now I very well might a been drunk at the time, and I'm not a movie expert by any means, and I'm not a man of many words, but if I had to review this movie I would say it sucks my goddamn dog's friend's dick. His name is "Blampho-mabluxley" and he is NOT A REAL LIVING PERSON, he's figman of the goddamn dog's imagination. He's what the dog thinks of when he thinks of the perfect human man. Matter of fact, the movie sucked so bad I felt like I was watching a fuckin' french fashion show while my ex-girlfriends kicked me in the dick till I sharted. Sitting there looking at the screen I could only think of one simple thing: Take a pill to turn me into a giant and stick my giant ass on the screen and burp at the audience. Everyone who hated the movie would say "fuck yeah!" and everybody who liked the movie would probably go fuck each other in the bathroom BECAUSE THEY ARE HORNY FOR THEMSELVES JUST LIKE THAT MOVIE WAS HORNY FOR IT-SELF. Left me so un-horny my dick turned into yellow jello.