Dane Barbados Reviews: The Devil's Rejects

My oh my oh my. I, Dane Barbados Jr., must educate the people about the glorious film that I have just viddied by the name of "The Devil's Rejects."

Now I will warn the people. You may see negative reviews of this film on the interweb. I will proudly proclaim that those people are clearly either A: inbred, mongolod, morons or B: women.

Many would not expect a feat of proper filmmaking from Rob Zombie, many would say he cannot do it right and call him a hack. I say thee nay.

Can a hack create family of insane, sadistic, remorseless serial killers and make them not only likeable but relatable as a family?

Can a hack direct cinematography that harkens back to the old days of Sergio Leone westerns and vintage slasher flick such as the incomparable "Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

Would a hack be visonary enough to cast pop culture icons Priscilla Barnes (Terri from Three's Company), Ken Foree (tough security guard from original Dawn of the Dead), Legendary 'roid-raging wrestler Diamond Dallas Page, Danny Trejo (Heat, Anchorman, Con Air, Desperado) AND legendary odd guy Michael Berryman (The Hills Have Eyes)?

Would a hack possess testicles of solid brass allowing him to not shy away from gore like so many of these estrogen enhanced Horror directors these days.

And lastly would a hack be original enough to not pilfer yet another middle-of-the-road Japanese horror movie (The Ring, Dark Water, The Grudge)?

If you answer "yes" to any of these questions I will mark you a complete idiot worthy of naught but my terrible vengance, divine wrath, and urine stream of hate.

Remember kids, if Dane Barbados Jr. says it...it must be true.

Dane Barbados Jr. Salutes: Scarlett Johansen.

It seems that I, Dane Barbados Jr., cannot escape your American Goddess Scarlett Johansen. Whilst strolling through the interweb I happened upon this little tidbit:

"Actress Scarlett Johansson almost caused a huge traffic accident on Sunset Boulevard when she saw the billboard for her new movie for the first time. There’s an ad for “The Island” in Hollywood that made Scarlett scream and slam on the breaks. She says, 'I couldn’t believe it. My tits were the size of a Brontosaurus!'"

I decree that before Dane Barbados Jr. passes his admirable throne and lordship over the world to Dane Barbados III not only shall I bed and swiftly discard Ms. Johansen, I shall also ensure that every highway in this land shall be festooned with photographic representations of Scarlett Johansen's perfect Brontosaurus-sized breasts.

The slobbering masses of teh interweb can thank me at their leisure.

Dane Barbados Reviews: Big Trouble in Little China

I will tell the people about a film which I recently viewed on the DVD. This film is entitled "Big Trouble in Little China." It stars the incomparable Kurt Russell and is directed by the genius John Carpenter. Many of you would write this film off as a mere shallow comedy. Feh, I will illustrate the genius of the film and expose your idiocy...again.

"Big Trouble in Little China" speak volumes about this country America. The protagonist is a stereotypical American man. Loud, brash, macho, ignorant of other cultures and completely ineffectual. Jack Burton is the quintessenital American. He goes throughout the entire movie spouting loud one liners ("Son of a bitch must pay"...classic) and looking down upon Chinese culture because he cannot understand it. Though the first into the breach he actually accomplishes little more than being a nusance as the more enlightened characters do the large bulk of the work. Both the action AND the thinking.

Most, simpletons would never see deeply into the film to understand what it is saying.

Once Burton is FORCED to believe the differences in the Chinese culture depicted only then is he able to do more than blather pseudo-witty retorts.

You could learn a lot from the example of Jack Burton of the Porkchop Express. Talk a little less, think a little more, be a little more open and understanding to the cultures and nuances of other people. In otherwords, be less stereotypically American.

No go, I, Dane Barbados Jr., release you. View the film again now that the hilariously thick cloak of ignorance has been rendered void. Ladies you may offer yourselves to me at your leisure, gentleman you may leave me your zaftig daughters and sisters later.

Consider this lesson a rare "freebie."

It is also worth noting that Lo Pan is absolutely, positively, without a doubt the "coolest," greatest, most entertaining villain to grace cinema in the history of mankind. He is the ancient Chinese, celluloid, equivalent of Dane Barbados Jr. And well dressed at that.

Dane Barbados Jr. examines: Common Phrases pt.1

I always hear the people using common phrases...however since the average citizen is not as supremely intelligent as I, Dane Barbados Jr., we shall take some time to examine these phrases.

-Rule of Thumb: The Rule of Thumb refers to an ancient law that proclaims that one cannot beat his wife with any object wider than his thumb...hence "Rule of Thumb."

-Guy: The term "guy" comes from an English 16th Century revolutionary. Guy and others hatched a plan to kill the current Catholic King whom they found to be a tyrant. The plot was foiled and Guy was captured, drawn and quartered (I'll get back to that in a bit). People began to use the term "guy" to refer to an ugly or unattractive male. Over time it became a common term for any man.

-Sandwich: In 1748 there was a delighful fellow named who was the Earl of Sandwich. This fine gentleman was and addicted gambler. As he wanted to spend as much time as he could at the card tables he commanded his servants to bring him a slice of beef betwixt two peices of bread as he didn't have time for a proper meal. Hence "Sandwich."

-Son of a Gun: In the old days of maritime warefare certain ships would have prostitutes or perhaps the wives of sailors (to deter desertion). Oft time on a ship they would find the most secluded area of the ship to be betwixt the cannons, or guns. If the seabastard was a male he would be a "son of a gun."

-Busting one's Chops: In the days of eld, around the turn of the Centruy, muttonchop sideburns were the height of fashion (poor styleless fools). Therefore to deliver a swift blow mangling one's sideburns would be "busting their chops."

**Though not a common phrase I, Dane Barbados Jr., only recently learned the what exactly being drawn and quartered entailed. In a rare bit of charity I shall share that knowledge with you:

In England a prisoner guilty of treason would at times be drawn and quartered. Those are actually two seprate events. First would be the drawing. A small incision would be made in the prisoner's abdomen and their intestines would be drawn out of the wound, slowly enough for the victim to remain both alive and awake. Occasionally the victim's genitals would be removed and burned in front of them as a part of drawing.

Then came the quartering. Whilst still living and disemboweled the prisoner would be dismembered by axe. Later the parts of their bodies would be placed upon city walls as a criminal deterrent.

Guy Fawkes was drawn and quartered and William Wallace (of Braveheart fame, feh!) is purported to be the first to suffer the punishment.

There, now you have been educated by Dane Barbados Jr. you may sing my praises now.

Dane Barbados on: The Movie Talkers

I will tell the people of harm that has recently come to myself, Dane Barbados Jr.

Recently I was attending a motion picture screening at one of your "multiplexes" (the movie matters naught) . After paying 10 of your dollars to gain entry and seven of such same dollars for a beverage of my choosing I was expecting naught but to enjoy my next two hours as I had been so unkindly grifted by overinflated, exhorbitant prices.

The theatre of the moviehouse was filled near capacity. Now you must realize that I, Dane Barbados Jr., do not particularly like being herded like so much cattle and surrounded on all sides by people so clearly beneath me and I was already upon edge.

Imagine my endless annoyance when as soon as the lights dimmed my pristine ears were assulted by rude catcalls and laughing and cellphone rings where I expected little more than reverant silence, if not for the movie then for nothing more than the fact that someone such as I was in attendance.

My insistance upon viewing the film superceded my urge to commit unpeakable violence upon the offenders. Alas that was not to last. In the film there was an extended musical montage (as is often the case in the films of Summer). Disgustingly, rediculously, several members of the audience felt that to be a prime opportunity to "freestyle" along with the beat of the score.

Is there no such thing as proper home training in your country? Are not children taught how to behave when amongst their betters and the public in general?

Why is it that I must be bombarded with cries of "Over here Pookie!" and "That stupid bitch should have ran! I would have ran! Why didn't she run!" or, my personal favorite: "I saw this shit last night, her daddy is the killer!"

Well I proceeded upon the only course that I could. I stood defiantly in the isle dressed my twin instuments Excalibur and Caliburn in finely crafted brass knuckles and began to lay hands upon each and person in the theatre whom was speaking during the film on my way to the exit.

As the icing on my poison filled cake, in the front row sat a putrid male blithely blathering away, having a full blown conversation, upon his cellular phone. Oh the horror I inflicted upon him, horror ending with me expectorating upon his grimacing face. Sweet joy.

Although I do not particularly like you, nor respect you I know that, deep down in your pedestrian soul you abhor these people as much as I do.

When next you meet a Movie Talker I urge you to smack them upon the face, or better yet scald their genitals with that repulsive hot faux-butter, ensuring that they lose the ability to procreate and generate more miscreants.

...unless that is, you yourself are a Movie Talker...in that case fuck you, I hate you and sincerely hope that you suffer death by genital leprocy. Stop reading, I revoke your pass. Go and die now.

Thus spoke Dane Barbados Jr.

Dane Barbados Jr. Salutes: Fat Girls

I will tell the people. There was a time when I, Dane Barbados Jr., would push a fat girl down in the street, kick dirt in her face and make sure that she was duly spat upon before my grand exit. This course of action would seem definate to any reasonable person. I, however, am here to tell the people otherwise.

We should love fat girls. No, not in a physical sense of course, the mere thought of such is enough to make my formidable gorge rise. No, no fat woman is worthy of the angelic, world shattering, love of Dane Barbados Jr., nor any act of physical love. A fat woman's plight is to be forever sexless and lonely, discounting the greasy, slovenly, bacon-fat smelling love of a fat man.

But fat women are to be revered. By merely standing in the considerable shadow of a fat woman a platry scullery maid is instantly elevated to the status of vixen. A vixen is elevated to the status of Sex Goddess. Fat girls are veritable black holes of unattractiveness, sucking it all up, and making everyone else look attractive by comparison.

Fat girls can also bake a mean poundcake. All of them can. It is, in fact, a prerequisite.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: Next time, before you push a fat girl in the dirt, thank her for beautifying the world.

...and don't forget to ask for a slice of delicious poundcake.

Dane Barbados Jr. Salutes: Don Knotts

Today is the birthday of one Don Knotts. You may remember him from the Andy Griffiths Show or perhaps as the bumbling sidekick on Matlock.

You would all give a testicle or ovary to be a Champion of Humanity like Mr.Knotts. This gentleman is perhaps the finest actor of your, or any other, age. One day people will sing songs of his greatness.

I, Dane Barbados Jr., salute you Don Knotts. May your days know no end.

Dane Barbados Jr. remembers: University pt.3

I will tell the people. I will tell them of the horrible dream that I, Dane Barbados Jr., have just had. The traitor that is the undermind decided to inflict injury most foul upon me whilst I slept amongst a pile of former virgins. My distasteful undermind decided to revisit the Naked Theatre Goth Party.

Whilst at University I, Dane Barbados Jr., frequented the dramatic stage plays sponsor'd by the administration. After a while I became a bit of a fixture and was duly welcomed into the pale flabby arms of the University theatre drama department. Oh the horrors that awaited me.

After the conclusion of each show the dregs of the University campus, the theatre department, would throw what they identified as "cast parties." Now you must realize that a good 90% of the cast and crew of said department could only be identified as "Goths."

Let it be known that Dane Barbados Jr. is a friend to a fine gothic female. However as any thinking man knows, 98.8% of gothic females are woefully, bowel churningly, hideous and vastly overweight. The males are even worse.

It was a sanity straining struggle just to be in attendance. Imagine my sheer horror when it was arbitrarily decided that the party would enter the phase known as "naked time." My God. My God the horror. I will spare you detailed description. Not because I care about you enough to spare you, merely because some things are best forgotten.

Shortly after the onset of "naked time" I exited the townhouse in a vodka and absinthe fueled frenzy of fisticuffs and flying elbows. I do know that during my daring escape I inflicted many an injury on many an assemblage of pasty white, corpulent flesh.

That remains the one time that Dane Barbados Jr. has felt fear in his entire life. From that point onwards I took great satisfaction at firing carefully constructed shells of finely ground pepper into the faces of the theatre-goth-loser crowd.

Pity them not, they deserve no better for offending the eyes of Dane Barbados Jr. Plus they were fat, lonely, goths. No one cares about them or loves them anyway. Fuck them.

Dane Barbados Jr. on: Harry Potter and the Who the Fuck Cares

Yes I know that I have not kept my posting schedule. Alas I was busy studying the fornicative arts with a set of nubile triplets. Feel free to envy me.

Upon the television yesterday I see the people. I see them in zombie like states. I see them in manic throes of orgasmic ecstasy. I see them look but a hair away from homicidal rages. And all of these people are in line for the newest Harry Potter novel.

I, Dane Barbados Jr., must ask: Who the fuck cares?

Obviously someone cares but those people do not qualify as humans to Dane Barbados Jr. They are naught but creatures constructed purely for my enjoyment.

Dane Barbados Jr. is a great fan of fine fiction. Dane Barbados Jr. can understand the people's enjoyment of literature.

Dane Barbados Jr. can not understand waiting in line for hours for the release of a book. It's a book. It's really not going anywhere.

Dane Barbados Jr. can not understand reading all six hundred and some pages in a single night. It's a book. It's really not going anywhere.

These people clearly have no lives, no friends, no jobs, no purpose in living other than to be laughed at. I urge the people to grant their wish.

Next person you see obsessively reading the newest Harry Potter novel you should do what I would do: take the book, spit betwixt it's pages, push down the reader and, if possible, urinate into their upturned faces. Then, and only then, you should extend your arm and index finger in a pointing motion and laugh.

Dane Barbados on: Scarlett Johansen

I see the people and spit upon thier tastes. Paris Hilton? Feh. Mariah Carey? Feh. I'll save my golden opinion on Britiney Spears and Lindsay Lohan for another day.

But I, Dane Barbados Jr., is forced to ask: are the people more stupid than I had previously thought? Surely they should be wasting their sorry opinions and spilling their rotten seed on their keyboards over Scarlett Johansen. This woman is actually near my standards. Dane Barbados Jr. would not expect you to understand how very rare that is, he actually has trouble believing that she was produced in America. Perhaps she is but a constuct.

She posesses the simple, sublime, facial features of Athena. Eyes that would turn lesser men than I into simpering puddles of warm sweat. Lips the likes of which are too good for a caucasion. And breasts that were made for me to rest my ashtray upon whilst I read my morning paper...in otherwords perfect.

Unfortunately she is too short for my liking and bears the curse of being a pedestrian blonde. I would gleefully allow Scarlett Johansen to share the gilded bedchamber of Dane Barbados Jr. and in deference to her features I would give her a full thirty seconds to gather her belongings and vacate my sight before I issued a swift kick to her powdered behind thusly thrusting her from my abode.

That is more than any of you deserve.

Dane Barbados on: Mariah Carey

I'm on the internet and I see the people all in a tizzy over a so-called "wardrobe malfunction" of one Mariah Carey.

I must say, I know that these days you people can be quite sad, especailly those of you addicted to the internet but I must ask: is anyone still interested in this worn out, used up trollop?

Perhaps in the old year of 1996 I, Dane Barbados Jr., may have taken the time to let Mariah gaze upon my mighty instrument before shoving her off of my porch but these days she has all the sexual appeal of a geriatric, trailer park, whore.

Although her singing voice is indeed sublime, her speaking voice sounds like a seventy year old grandmother who had comsumed naught but filterless cigarettes and grain alcohol since the tender age of three. The mere thought of what she must sound like in the throws of passion threaten to rend my very mind in twain.

I care not to see the surgery scarred nipple of this dimestore barfly. Much like yourselves she is below me.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: DON'T fuck Mariah Carey.

Dane Barbados Jr. remembers: University pt.2

Today I, Dane Barbados Jr., recieved a telephone call from a trogloditic sycophant whom I was unfortunate enough to live with during my time at University. I know not how this gutter snipe was provided with my telephone number and will flay whomever is responsible.

Although said, troglodyte is clearly beneath myself I did take advantage of the fact that he was a dealer of what you call "weed" and I did help myself to copious amounts of said smokable without his knowledge. I feel that I was entitled. I am, as always, correct.

Anyhow speaking to the proletarian I was reminded of another "prank" that was perpetrated by myself and others at University.

Whilst there I was introduced to a lovely trick known as the "penny lock." All that is required is a door, a number of your pennies and someone on whom to inflict your vengence upon. The steps are hilariously simple. All you have to do is have one person lay flat upon their back and press against the door quite forcefully with their feet. Whilst they are applying pressure you force as many pennies as you can, in a stack, in between the door and the jamb.

The theory of the penny lock is that the pennies create so much pressure between the door and the jamb that the door will be near-impossible to open under ordinary means. The subject will be trapped within and hilarity insues.

The unfortunate soul that was the butt of my penny-locking experiment was stuck in his room for over four hours. Amusingly enough that young man was supposed to pick his parents up from the airport earlier that morning. Needless to say...he didn't make it.

Oh how we laughed.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: Others' misery is naught but your comedy.

Dane Barbados Jr. remembers: Stripclub Chronicles pt.1

Ah I remember the first time I, Dane Barbados Jr., visited one of your American stripclubs. Dane Barbados Jr. refuses to refer to such establishments as "Gentlemen's Clubs."

I was there with a good aquaintance by the name of Butch Killbane. I know that the people will ask "How can you have a friend Mr. Barbados? You're so clearly above us all." To which I recall the time in which I witnessed Killbane crush the tender kidneys of an unsuspecting would-be man with one thunderous blow, causing the shell of a man to instantly urinate upon himself. All in front of his trollop of a girlfriend who sang Killbane's praises. When you achieve such a feat you will truly understand.

Anyhow upon entering the establishment we were assulted by the unwashed stench of desperate, lonely males and sweaty, unwashed, g-strings.

We spent that evening being terribly amused by the lusting gazes the heroin addicted "girls" gave our spread out bills as we shoveled large denominations towards our waitress and gave them naught a dollar.

Though I can surely say that few things will gain you such guffaws as the look on a stripper's face as you deposit a few pieces of assorted small change into the front of their g-strings. Dane Barbados Jr. approves.

Dane Barbados Jr. on: Short people

Today whilst out a short person (I will not use the term "man" to describe someone under 5 foot, 8 inces) walked in front of me, Dane Barbados Jr.

Did this idiot not know not to cross my hallowed path lest I crush him with titanic blows from my twin fists Caliburn and Excalibur? Did not this toerag of miniscule stature not know that with but a word I, Dane Barbados Jr., would rend his shallow psyche in twain?

Next time you run across a short person tell them I hate them.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados says: Fuck short people.

I Am Dane Barbados Jr.

Recently a person told me, Dane Barbados Jr., that I "was not mean enough" in my estimation of the emaciated pisswipe known as Paris Hilton.

The people should know. Dane Barbados Jr. cares not what you think of what he writes. He cares not what you think of him. Truly he cares very little of you.

Dane Barbados Jr. has sipped absinthe from betwixt the breasts of nubile, zaftig, virgins. He has smoked cigars with kings after raining blow after towering blow upon their shattered bodies.

Dane Barbados Jr. has rutted with redheaded princesses and brown-skinned heiresses on mountaintops, kicked them down and hurled profanites after.

He has wrestled with gods and fornicated with goddesses. He is better than you.

If you were Dane Barbados Jr. would you care what the people had to say?

Dane Barbados Jr. on: Paris Hilton

I see the people are all so interested in Paris Hilton. I see the people salivating over her and calling her "hot." I, Dane Barbados Jr., must admit that this speaks to the overall stupidity of the people.
Who is this Paris Hilton? She is nothing. She is clearly the union of a horse and an ostritch. She possesses the body of a fourteen year old czech male prostitute and the nose of a punchdrunk Jew.

Your musician Tommy Lee once said that he would never fornicate with this pettycoat strumpet because, as he said, she had "ugly feet." Tommy Lee is a sage beyond reproach. This Hilton trollop does indeed look as if she walks along burning boulders for a living and smashes her hooves with a hammer for a hobby.

I will show the people what she really looks like so that you may marvel in shame as that whom you desire.

All though her fellatial skills, as seen in her so-called "sex-tape" look to be phenomenal I care not for this Paris Hilton. Who would want for such when your list of "booty calls" is filled with princesses and queens as mine is? Feh. Paris Hilton disgusts me as do you all.

You may sit in the corner and cry in shame for your idolotry now.

Dane Barbados Jr. Shares: Lingo, part I

The people always ask me, they ask: "Mr. Barbados Jr. what kind of slang do they speak in your country?"

I, Dane Barbados Jr., will tell the people the "lingo" that is used in my superior homeland. I shall translate it to the best of my ability, which is superb of course. You will read it, learn it and love it. This I surely know.

Penis-Leatherneck

Penis-Jackstraw

Vagina-Quim

Vagina-Cunny

Buttocks-Dunion

Unsavory fellow-Cockgoblin

Semen-Spum

Semen-Guock

Your mother-Slore

This is but a small sampling. Too much, too soon would rend your simple mind in twain. And if you are reduced to the intellectual level of a giggering troglodyte I, Dane Barbados Jr., would have less enjoyment laughing at you. We cannot have that.

Dane Barbados Remembers: University, Part I

I came to this America to study in one of your Universities. Whist there I drank, smoke and rutted amongst your females as much as I saw fit. It was at University that I first discovered the wonderful world of "pranking" the people.

I, Dane Barbados Jr., will tell the people a story. One that it is quite true.

Whilst at University there was a mongrel of a young man whom I simply did not like. The reasons why matter naught, he was simply below Dane Barbados Jr. We shall call this young man what he was called then: Ratticus Rex.

Ratticus' roommate was a distributer of what is called "weed." As I am a fan of such things we spent a fair amount of time together. For a period of three weeks as a postlude to the smoking of the weed I would sit upon Ratticus' bed, take his sheets and pillow and rub them vigorously against my anus and the space betwixt the anus and testicles which you people call the "grundle." He was not aware of my actions.

Lo and behold came the holiday "Easter." For this particular Easter Ratticus' female companion (though her femininity is somewhat suspect) "Hobbit Head" purchased for him a large rabbit made from chocolate.

Well needless to say that in a fit of finest vodka, nicotine and narcotics that I, Dane Barbados Jr., could think of no finer idea then to give said rabbit the same treatment that I had given said sheets. After I was done annointing the rabbit I replaced the foil and replaced the rabbit.

Shortly afterwards R.R.'s roommate summoned me, convulsing with laughter to his hovel. When I arrived I was greeted with the sight of the horrid couple feasting upon the tainted rabbit. People I tell you, Dane Barbados Jr. has never laughed harder in his life.

And thus the legend of the "Grundle Bunny" was born.

Some days I miss the University.

p.s. Yes I told Ratticus of the horrors that were subjected upon his rabbit. No, he did not believe me. Yes I continued to annoint his bedware.

Dane Barbados on: Neighbors.

Yes, yes I know that I, Dane Barbados Jr., have been delinquent in my duties and have not updated my story for a spell. I would tell you where I was and what I was doing but you do not deserve such. Sufficed to say that I was unable to write here. You will read now.

I, Dane Barbados Jr., find myself continually in a state of low-level anger at the celebratory nature of your July of the forth. I found myself standing outside of my villa enjoying a fine cigarette when I see, to my left and to my right, that I am beset by hordes of humanity doing the "cooking out."

Who are these people and why must they impugn my space and field of vision so? Did they not know that it was I whom was being distracted? Feh.

Mine eyes saw a small group of small children run up and down a steep incline for enjoyment. They performed this for an hour. Without break. This children are clearly idiots yes?

Loud men consuming their wheat-water. Beer is for the under classed. Naught but the finest vodka for Dane Barbados Jr. The people shall escape my wrath for now. The vengance of Dane Barbados Jr. is often fleeting.

However, I will tell you, if perchance you find yourself with the opportunity to cavort wildly within the locked thighs of Royal European triplets whilst sipping sweetest Chopin from their cleft breasts under the "rocket's red glare" I highly suggest you do.

Dane Barbados Jr. suggests you hold your breath whilst you wait for that fine opportunity.

Dane Barbados Reviews: War of the Worlds

I will tell the people a story. The story of the greatest joke ever played in the history of mandkind. This joke was played by a great man named Orson Welles. In the 1930's this great man, on his radio show, convinced the country that we were being invaded by aliens. The joke was called War of the Worlds.

I, Dane Barbados Jr., would love nothing more than to castrate any and everyone responsible for the recycled whore mung that is the remake that was recently released.

In my time in America I have noticed that the people here love destruction and doom in their entertainment. Dane Barbados Jr. also loves these things, there is no fault there. If you also enjoy fine destruction by all means see this film. However to escape the mind-numbingly, bowel-liquefyingly bad ending I will tell you to leave before the last 15 minutes.

In the original tale the invading aliens were killed by the common cold. This made a degree of sense says I.

In the feckless remake they were killed by bacteria in water. Dane Barbados Jr. will berate you and he will laugh at you but he will not lie to you...bacteria in water.

This chunk of garbage bludgeons us over the head with the fact that these creatures have been observing and laying in wait beneath the ground for millions of years. How stupid must these creatures be to be here for millions of years...in a planet over 70% water...and not figure out their doom? As stupid as your president I say.

This is why the makers of this filth should be urinated upon by diseased Ukranian whores. Mind you that they don't actually even tell you how the invaders were defeated. No, they merely close up on a drop of water and the creatures therein which I estimate to be the same size as the brain of the director. If you are not as smart as I, Dane Barbados Jr. (you're not), you may never figure it out at all. Enjoy youselves figuring out the significance of the blood-plants.

I say, do something else instead of paying for this garbage. If you cannot frolic in the castles of royalty and eat caviar from the vulva of princesses like I can you may find banging your head against a wall to be more enjoyable than the end of this movie. And yes...the boy is dead...there is no way he could not be.

Watch Independance Day instead.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: Fuck this movie.

p.s. Before the people ask, yes I spoiled the entire film. You may sing my praises at your convenience.

Dane Barbados on: Live 8

Dane Barbados Jr. is offended.

I hear the people talking about Live 8.

I turn on the television and I see Live 8.

I will tell the people about Live 8.

Live 8 is beneath Dane Barbados Jr. Live 8 is designed to raise awareness of world-wide poverty. People ask yourselves as I, Dane Barbados Jr., did. Ask youself what does more good towards world poverty: raising awareness or raising actual money?

Yes people, you heard the words I speak. The rich performers of Live 8 are not actually giving the money from the tickets to charity. They are instead raising intangible and feckless awareness. I feel fairly certain in saying that most people are already aware of world poverty.

I am certain that the starving children of Africa cannot buy food with awareness. I am certain that these rich performers don't need even more money. I am certain that most people are not aware that the money spent towards Live 8 is not going to starving people of the world.

Do not misunderstand. Crush the prolitariat. Dane Barbados Jr. cares not for the poor of the world. Dane Barbados is disgusted by the rich taking advantage of the poor. Take advantage of the stupid, yes fine, that is what the stupid are designed for after all. However if the people really want to help the poor how about giving actual money. I would think that the people could figure that out on their own without the guidance of Dane Barbados.

Feh.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: Fuck Live 8.

The face of Dane Barbados Jr.

The people always ask me, "Mr. Barbados...what do you look like?" I ask them why they feel as though they are worthy to gaze upon my visage...not everyone can be graced by my image.

But I, Dane Barbados Jr., am not a heartless man. I know that you love me so I will illuminate your little life with a facsimile of my image. My lady readers take proper precautions before looking upon my image, try not to sit on any easily stained fabrics as you will certainly secrete wildly.

Enjoy.

Dane Barbados Reviews: Wait (The Whisper Song)

Let it be known that Dane Barbados Jr. is a fan of fine music. In my time here in America I have been exposed to music that I find to be the sonic equivalent of steaming elephant dung; interesting to pay attention to at a circus but nothing to hold one's interest. The music is like many other things...beneath Dane Barbados Jr and not worth his attention.

There is one noticible stand out that I, Dane Barbados Jr., give my highest reccomendation and usher into the halls of Fine Music. That would be Wait (The Whisper Song) as performed by a duo called The Yin Yang Twins.

I will here tell the people that if they were ever to ponder what it is that Dane Barbados Jr. says to woo the many princesses and countesses into my bedchamber need go no further than this song. If I were to be so petty as to take legal action I would say that these virtuosos of song have taken the thoughts straight from the ether of my very mind.

Those lifeless, luckless, loveless young men out there reading my story take the advice of The Yin Yang Twins and Dane Barbados Jr. Next time you meet a young woman of your liking be she a common strollop or a burgeoning queen you tell her: "

Wait 'till you see this dick, wait 'till you see this dick, hey bitch! Wait to you see this dick, I'ma beat that pussy up."