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Two road-movies diverged in a wood, and Melissa McCarthy made a finger-bang joke, and that made all the difference. Banging that finger would be Boz Scaggs (who else) and as they've always said - as goes Boz Scaggs' finger, so go we all. Down the road-movie more traveled towards more open-mouthed chewing gags than you can keep track of. (I'm so sorry for all this, Robert Frost.)
See, I've been loving on Melissa McCarthy since she giggled at the gays in Go, and I'm ready and willing to watch her play all the bumbling freakazoids she can muster, but Tammy never quite comes together. In fact it hits a deer in the first act and the whole thing just burns right the hell up and it's nothing but fumes from there on out. McCarthy tries to waft it places through sheer will and force of personality (so much force of personality) but it's a lot of pratfalls onto the pavement to get where she's going, and they're more prone to making you wince than they are guffaw. Stand up, Melissa McCarthy! Pick up your bike, throw off the training wheels, I'll pick up the tattered remnants of these mangled-beyond-reason metaphors, and together we will ride into a brand new future forgetting all of the finger-bangs - finger-bang free! What's passed is past, friend. A new hope for tomorrow!
But not today tomorrow, not this weekend tomorrow, cuz that's when Tammy actually comes out and we've got to suffer through that first, unfortunately. The tomorrows after that, though. Let's look to those!
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1 comment:
I want to bugger Melissa McCarthy, all that extra arse flesh would squash and squeeze my dick even more than the arse-hole itself ! ! !.
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