Oh dear god, if this is true, my dick is going to break.
Appreciative babe is appreciative. I’m one to often understand an actor’s fatigue at playing a certain role, even if it means I accept their pending departure. However, there are also actors who seem openly derisive of the role that established them, only to look back fondly later on and realize how good they had it. (I’m staring you right in the fucking eyes, Fox Mulder.) So it’s pretty refreshing to see Chris Evans not only aware of how special his role in the MCU is, but also be willing to ride or die as Steve Rogers for as long as Marvel wants him.
After the jump, cause spoilers.
This. Is concerning to me. I love The Winter Soldier. But what I also love (loved?) about the MCU was that it was a diversified set of directors lending their own vision and aesthetic to the Universe. And now? Now it just sort of feels like it is the Russo Brothers and their writers’ show.
I’ve seen The Winter Soldier three times. I don’t just like it. It’s a bit more intense than that. No lie: I’ve commissioned a Falcon/Bucky double-ended dildo that I intend on fitting into myself while holding my custom made Captain America Hitachi on my nipples during my first Blu-Ray viewing. Apparently they don’t let you do that in theaters because they hate fun. So fuck yeah!, I’m excited that it’s April’s highest grossing movie ever.
So it appears that Rendar didn’t do MMC this week! It’s okay. I love him. Bro-Love. Born out of a mutually shared origin story plucked from the depths of our Dad’s testicles. Grown deep in our Mom’s womb. Fostered by a shared diet of Soda, Video Games, Comic Books, and Rust In Peace listenings. This is a lightning warfare edition of MMC – typed (more) frantically (than usual) in-between duties on campus. ICYDK: This is the column where we share what we’re digging during a given week. Let’s dance.
In case you’re a DUMB IDIOT who doesn’t like COOL THINGS, I’m going to let you know that Captain Canada: The Winter Steamboat comes out tomorrow. There’s a variety of reasons to see the movie. Like, it has special effects, and Natalie Portman. What more could you need? But if you’re a pig like me, you’re only in the movie theater for two reasons. To masturbate and eat popcorn. “So, Caff. What are you going to jerk it to?” That’s a great question, Dad. It’s a difficult choice. And I’ve spent some serious time thinking about it. I can’t jerk off to everything, this little pink nub gets tired. Two hours and twelve minutes? Good god. So I’ve decided to divide my heart into a series of segments. Isn’t that what society wants, anyways? Order imposed on emotion? Limits placed on speeds? Fucking bullshit coupons that can’t be stacked at SONIC for all my fucking hot dogs? Isn’t this what It is all about?