The higher your pedestal, the more obdurate your nosebleed.

If Bill Murray hadn't rejected my script, "Spaghetti", back in '77, we'd be having a different conversation right now. 

Once is plenty enough.

 Captain could've 'done that' to Tennille ten more times, for all I care, so long as they wrote songs about it one less time.

 She asked if there was anthracite coal in the valley. I nodded, inviting her to explore mein shaft.

Doompity Doo.

 If I'm correct, the Oompah Loompahs' sing-songy moral lessons didn't extend to wanton carnality with brunettes or indulging in hallucinogens. Have a lick of THAT snozberry, Wonka.

It's that time of the year again ...

Basic chicks cosplaying as horror fans on social media for attention. Posting repeatedly about the same five mainstream movies, pumpkin spice lattes, and taking selfies in a room full of Target Halloween decorations. 

Back again, like the intertransversarii muscle...

 Check one-two...check one-two. Is this thing on? 

Six years later, with the roadblocks of jail (got out), cancer (beat it), and a heart attack (became responsive after forty-seven minutes of being clinically dead) shrinking in the rear-view mirror, I'm back like Quasimodo, with a lead foot on the gas pedal, Fat Mattress II on the stereo, and a pocketful of yum yums for the brunettes. Just mind the Minotti leopard upholstery, baby. 

I'll be broadcasting live from the funk bunker here at Chez Bippy with no shortage of Wop-isms. When I sit down to add my thoughts on the state of the world and popular culture, I catch myself slipping into old, familiar, snobbish territory, sharpening my tongue in anticipation of the outrageous elitist shit that will surely flow off of it once more. And I'm not even promising that it won't in the end. Knowing me, it probably will. I've also gotten pretty comfortable banging out daily capsule reviews of movies of all sorts over at Letterboxd of late, so get over there, sign up, and follow me to the promised land. Dedicated to the glorious memory of "Cowboy X", Christopher Andolini/DeAngelo/Zike, without whom my life adventures would be considerably less wondrous and plentiful, with fewer illegal substances. A noi, camerata!

"Fasten your seatbelts; it's going to be a bumpy night." - Margo Channing (Bette Davis), All About Eve (1950)