Delighted to meet you dress up for armageddon

Armageddon - Vern's Reviews on the Films of Cinema Vern's Reviews on the Films of Cinema

delighted to meet you dress up for armageddon

'Well, thank you,' responded Macmillan over the crackly line in the rich, . Marked Top Secret, it records a meeting between the top brass of. Before we even meet most of the main characters we already have ARMAGEDDON believes that you are in absolute awe of anything . There are sequences where everybody's wearing the same astronaut outfits and vibrating, so I it annoys me how delighted they are with their plan of demanding to. “Nice to meet you. Am I going insane? Are you going to be the imaginary friend I talk to when the meds wear off at the happy place with the padded walls?.

The hand grenade had earned him the compound fracture. Luckily for him I had been able to find the pin and put it back before the fucking thing exploded. A grenade explosion would have been a painful inconvenience for me, but rather lethal for him. That was some crazy-ass shit, deploying high explosives indoors, even for our crazy-ass world.

It figured; someone crazy enough to go mano a mano with a Neo was too crazy to know when to quit. Neos — Neolympians, or parahumans if you really want to get pretentious about it — have been around for close to a hundred years. Giamatti should have known better. When I came bursting through the bedroom window, he knew he was dealing with the Faceless Vigilante, or Face-Off, depending on who you ask.

Instead he got into a pissing match with me. He might as well have tried to outwrestle the F train. All I got back was more garbled profanities. Time to apply more pressure.

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I grabbed Giamatti by an ankle, avoiding his feeble attempts to kick me, and dragged him from the living room of his expensive penthouse to the balcony. I resisted the temptation to smash him through the plate glass sliding door leading outside, and instead opened it before pulling his thrashing body out.

I kept my grip on his ankle, so he ended up dangling upside down with nothing but twenty-five stories of New York City air beneath him. I swung him back and forth a few times to make my point.

delighted to meet you dress up for armageddon

The howls got shriller. But no Healer is going to put your Humpty Dumpty ass together if I let go of you. Even hard cases can be afraid of heights. Where did you take the Jane Doe you kidnapped from the hospital? I leaned over the balcony, still holding him by one leg. To avoid falling, I had to brace myself carefully against the balcony. Killing four people because they were an inconvenience?

delighted to meet you dress up for armageddon

He understood what was coming. He howled all the way down. The warehouse was squatting on a prime piece of real estate, and would likely turn into overpriced condos in the not too distant future. For now, it remained a featureless box of concrete and steel with a two-truck wide loading dock and heavy security doors. From the looks of it, it was a mostly legit warehouse that only occasionally acted as a haven for the kind of stuff the authorities frowned upon, like holding stolen goods or abduction victims.

I walked right to the front door and waved at the security camera mounted above it. Well, with the rats at the dumpster he hit at the end of his final descent, but why let reality get in the way of a corny line?

He soon found out just how wrong things were. His features sank into my head, and the Mafia henchman was now staring into a featureless span of skin. No nose, no eyes, no hair, no ears. That was the face, or lack thereof, I woke up to every morning. It usually made for a great first impression.

I could make little kids cry and grown men soil themselves just by being me. He went for his gun, which I had to respect, since most people freeze for several seconds when I show them my real face. I stepped over him, walked into the warehouse and took in the sights. Not much to see: The place was mostly shrouded in darkness. There was a light by the entrance creating a little island of illumination there, and another on a second level office.

They recognized me, which isn't that surprising; my no-face is fairly well-known. The mass media prefers good-looking guys and girls in tight and skimpy hyper-latex outfits. Because the rush you get when you stomp on someone who deserves being stomped becomes addictive after a while.

The little guy with the big gun opened fire. His first shot missed me by a country mile, and the next one was even worse. I pulled out my own gun, a sensible Ruger nine millimeter, took aim while the little punk missed me with a third shot, and double-tapped him before he could fire a fourth time.

All the while, his friend had been futilely trying to get his own oversized gun out of its shoulder holster.

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In all the excitement he seemed to have forgotten how to undo the clasp. He saw his little buddy go down and froze, his gun still safely holstered. Sucked to be him: I double-tapped him as well.

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Most Neos disdain or positively loathe guns. I myself prefer to punch or kick my targets to death. Guns are fairly effective people-killing tools, especially when you throw in superhuman eye-hand coordination that allows you to hit a target at the maximum theoretical range of a handgun.

delighted to meet you dress up for armageddon

In other words, the anti-gun caped crusaders can kiss my ass. According to Cassandra, there had been five people in the snatch team, including the late Danny Giamatti. One of them was supposed to be a Neo.

Where the hell was he? Maybe he had taken the night off like Danny had. I leaped off the stairs just ahead of a bolt of lightning that would have turned me into a crispy critter if it had hit me. I landed in a rolling tumble and saw my attacker standing by the entrance to the restroom downstairs.

Apparently the superhuman member of the snatch team had been in the crapper when I made my grand entrance. I was hoping he was new. That pack of psychos had been holy terrors before the Freedom Legion went in and cleaned up the whole island a few years ago.

No wonder so many people hate our guts. There are a couple odd things like closeups of Thornton having a brace on one foot when he mentions it, but I never saw it in a wide shot. I guess my brain has adjusted to this type of shit. So the bigger problem now is that — how can I put this? There are jokes about Rockhound Buscemi enjoying underage girls, and maybe this is a petty thing to complain about, but it annoys me how delighted they are with their plan of demanding to not have to pay taxes anymore.

I want a divorce! Wives are the worst. Always ruining our lives trying to be ghostbusters and have access to health care and taking too many short cuts in the preparation of food. This is it, the real world, the real people, living their real lives. We are all around the country, all around the globe, but we are all the same, united in our fate. Most of them have done stuff I like, too. As mentioned, Thornton and Affleck were a few movies into cashing in on major indie success; likewise Stormare was only two years into his FARGO career breakthrough.

But I bet it trailed behind them in the selling-crap department. The Armadillo has guns on it. Bay says they cut the scene that gave an explanation for it, but that the real reason is that toy companies told him guns sell well. And they come with drills for heroic drilling in your backyard.

There were also… cups or something at McDonalds. Whoever said Nirvana killed the old long haired style of rock n roll obviously never mentioned it to Armageddon: Multiple people on the commentary mention bulking up the love story in response to the success of that movie.

According to Bruckheimer, they originally had the asteroid discovered by kids.