Thighs Wide Shut

The Beatles’ Love
All You Need Is Love? Maybe. Maybe Not…
preview the ‘bum

It’s extremely hard to not like an album that has the Beatles’ name plastered on its cover. Even though they haven’t released a proper album since the Let It Be soundtrack in 1970, they certainly have had plenty of releases all worth owning. Some include the two Past Masters, the BBC Sessions, Let It Be… Naked, and of course the Anthology double disc sets, which prove that even outakes and throwaways by the Fap Fab Four are still magical mystery tours all their own. And now comes along the soundtrack to the highly popular Cirque du Soleil Vegas’ show Love, which is based off of the Les of Beats’ hefty catalog

I have not seen Soleil’s moon frye/show, so I cannot vouch for it as a soundtrack. But as a Beatles’ album, it’s purty much a hybrid of the red (1962-1966) and blue (1967-1970) greatestist hits discs. But there is one big ‘twist’ that makes Love stand apart from it’s predecessors: all dem songs are strewed together in a 2nd half of Abbey Road medley stizz. Mixed with great care by fifth Beatle/producer George Martin and his son Giles (he couldn’t be any more British, unless his middle name was Nigel, snatch!), the results are enjoyable for expert textperts or even joking smokers. However, with the artistic license to ill from the surviving members and widows, the father-son duo could have pushed the envelope much much much further. Sure, some of the mash-up songs are down right thumcredible (give hispecial listenage to ‘Drive My Car’, which incorporates ‘What You’re Doing’, ‘The Word’ AND the thrashin guitars of ‘Taxman’), but apparently the Martins didn’t pick up on what everyone else was going ga-ga over back in the ’04: Danger Mouse’s mousterpiece, The Grey Album. Had they let Brian Burton spin the wheels with Apple Corps’ core goodies, who knows what thumbmazinness could have come about. While we willie ponder such fantasies of ‘what if’, I’m still happy to be in (to) Love

Cum Stock D-lode This: ‘Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite!/I Want You (She’s So Heavy)/Helter Skelter‘ [d]

Unsatisfied with this?: go to any used CD store and purchase the Beatles’ Anthology sets 2 & 3

John Grisham’s Jizzum (aka Verdict): like this tee, I have reservations, but ultimately after listening to it non-stop for a week Breast In Show

until next thyme, the balcony is clothed…

turns 24 on a Thursday, how fitting fapping! So we dug deep into our hairy vaults and into our wet pants to bring you TWENTY FOUR snaps of the 24 honey

and I guess it’s better to lose a job than yer life, so we give brief PTFOuts to the dude who sorta helped Edward Norton’s career and Richard Gere’s hair and the bizatch who basically paved the way for Alex DeLarge to have a song to sing while raping and pillaging

Lily Allen, cutie at large (no relation to Alex DeLarge)

[herspace]

Jack White, the OG Dane Cook

Hey, YAAAAAAAAAA [Hattan]

‘I Done Soiled My Britches!‘ [Gulf of Tonkin]

Where Are They Now: The White Shadow

the real Fapino Royale [NSFW]

world’s wurstest burglar since the Hamburglar [Jewanicur/Texas Dave]

Jonesing for Jones. I dare you to try to keep up with them all

Where does the expression ‘Be there or be square’ come from?

Stuff People Write On Money

Abandoned Shopping Carts

before Sacha Baron Cohen was the cause of Kiddd Rockk’s ire he was a nobody/the host of some busted-arsed UK cable show called Pump TV. Peep a bit o’ his stylin’s here (at the beginning and then about 3:45 in)

Casino Royale
More of A Turn Than A Flop, So Let This River Flow
Trailers & much mo

Like the Redskins looking to the future with Jason Campbell at the helm, the other biggest entertainment franchise of franchises has also decided to breathe much needed life into their own stale bag of chips. The name you know. It’s such an obvious name that the theme song to our her00’s latest adventure is simply called, ‘You Know My Name’. Bond, James Bond (for those who just arrived on planet earth), and before dirty blond/steely-blue eyed Daniel Craig got the starting nod from coaches Barbara Broccoli & Michael G. Wilson, this ship was headed for an iceberg or even worse, a Goldberg (I wonder if Kramer hates Jews too?)! Hell, one more Pierce Brosnan snoozefest and they coulda dropped the ‘7’ and juss leave us with Robert Parish’s jersey number, not just one zero, but two, showing you how devoid of greatness Bond had become.

Well, the wait is over and said wait was well worth it. And besides Thomas Crown the II being shown the door, the other single greatestest aspect of Casino Royale‘s release is that we can stop seeing the word ‘reboot‘ appear in magazines, newspapers, and whathaves you until they decide to ‘reboot’ the Leonard Part 6 franchise (btw, even though I have 2.6% filmmmmaking skills, I still want to write and direct Leonard Parts I-V as one movie!). This relief even tops my disdain for the use of the word ‘editrix’ when critics were reviewing The Devil Wears Prada [see TWS.org review for DIS-dain!]. And while the gadgets are gone, the rest of the stuff one would eggspect is tailor made (but not by one in Panama): ruthless European villian with bleeding eye (check), a cool Felix Lighter (check PLUS for bringing Jeffrey Wright into the mix), and saucy saucy biddies with more than juss boobies (what, u didn’t fap that shit yet?).

So with the good, there’s always gotta be bad: 2hr 24min. Shave 45 minutes off this baby and you have the bestest Bond flick since the Connery days. Keep it the same length and you have the bestest since The Living Daylights. Oh what, you a T Dalton hater? Thought so. OK, bestest one since Max Zorin was pimp of the blimp. Either way, Daniel Craig rules the school and does it look like I give a damn… about run times?!

Unsatisfied with this?: Netflix the TWS.org Breast In Show stamped Layer Cake [trailer] DUVHS!

Possible Porno Name: Cunt Sea Knows Roy’s A$$

Cameow: yep, that awfully smiley bearded man that you can barely see making his way thru Miami airport’s security is none other than Virgin gazillionaire Richard Branson, who also somehow netted a cameo in Superman Returns

Apt MPupil3: ‘The Gambler‘ [d] by Kenny Rogers, but not his rotisserie chicken

John Grisham’s Jizzum (aka Verdict): Jeepers Worth A Major Peepers

until next thyme, the balcony is clothed…

Peace The Fork Out
to
the guy who’s final pretentious movie
starred Lindsay Lohag
for cryin out loud
Robert Bernard Altman

1925 – 2006

• my personal fav The Long Goodbye
• the greatestist casting of balls thyme: Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl in his Popeye
• a slightly NSFW oddly fapolicous Cynthia Stevenson in The Player
• as an ‘actor’ slingin drinks in Franco Zeffirelli’s Endless Love
• his NORML activites, as a member of their advisory board
&
• Ini Kamoze’s ‘Here Comes The Hotstepper’ [d|vid] from PrêtShit-à-Porter

+ much hugs and misses to Andre ‘Dirty’ Waters & Bo ‘Peep’ Schembechler