No human had ever suffered as much. I fidgeted in my seat as the insipid dialogue filled the theatre and suffocated my intelligence. The 9-’s were going to kill me with an incessant barrage of cultural slime:
“Please…… stop crying.”
“Not unless you promise never to indict me for criminal homicide ever again.”
“It was just a joke, Janet.”
“Sure, and it was just a joke when Franklin Delano Roosevelt tried to pack the Supreme Court in 1937.”
“That hurt…”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Look, please just leave.”
“Do you think I want to harm you?”
“Then why did you buy the boulder? I want you out of here this instant.”
“Go ahead, I ...
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He was a good looking, twenty-eight year old slice of sleaze with tanned aquiline features and a talent for rescuing the toughest advertising accounts. Behind his sleek wrap-around sunglasses, Lyle Podd had the smug confidence of a man approaching a tollbooth with correct change. As the youngest, oddest, brightest sensation at the firm of York and Sargent, he was certain he could come up with whatever slogan they needed this time. “I’m better than you,” he said to the secretary sitting behind her desk and she nodded in assent.
He sat down on the blue suede couch and waited, cradling his throbbing, perfectly shaped head in his hands. If only his headache would go away. He swore not to ...
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This ethnically, politically, and socially valuable “Now” statement deals with a woman of the eighties trying desperately to cope with the “situation” of “today” while simultaneously trying to raise, but not “hassle,” three minority teenagers who want to “do their own thing” and “find out who they are,” but still have time for sexual intercourse.
The opening camera shot is of a war ravaged slum somewhere in New Jersey. Woman of the Eighties walks out of her room and finds the bourgeois chauvinist Nazi landlord stepping over the rubble to collect the rent.
WOMAN OF THE EIGHTIES: And what can I do for you Mr. Angloe?
MR. ANGLOE (sneering): I’ve come for your rent. I realize that I’m ...
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