It’s made out of fucking cookies.
It’s like gingerbread met peanut butter and gave birth to the most delicious high-viscosity foodstuff imaginable.
It comes in Creamy (to die for) and Crunchy (to kill for).
Not literally, though. Unless there’s food in Heaven (and there probably isn’t), you can’t eat Biscoff there. And if you go to prison for murder, your odds of getting a steady supply of Biscoff are pretty low, unless you’re rich and powerful, in which case, you can just buy all you want.
But try it. On bread, on a spoon, in brownies (I made brownies with it–not bad at all)–I’m now contemplating how it would be in oatmeal–however you have to get in your mouth, do so.
Trader Joe’s has a variety of it; Wal-Mart carries it; World Market does too. More and more stores are. And you know?
Because it’s made out of fucking cookies.
Sure, put Willis on the poster even though he’s barely in the damn thing. #TeamPowersBoothe (Source)
I didn’t get to see the original Sin City in theaters, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it beginning to end–but I know of its painstaking stylization, its grotesque violence, its gruesomely tragic characters. I liked it. But when the sequel was announced, and delayed and delayed, finally being pushed back from last October to last Friday, one might reasonably have assumed the worst. It proceeded to flop horribly, opening in 8th place (the original opened at 1st), and received mixed-to-negative reviews. And there’s a reason for that: it’s not a very good film. There are many reasons why it’s not a very good film, but most fundamental is this: very few of the people involved seemed to believe in what they were doing. I’m not even sure if Miller and Rodriguez did.
Yes, they still make Jolt. I remember it being only intermittently available when I was younger, and when I was probably of middle-school age I eagerly obtained a bottle (the first furore of my obscure-soda fascination?) and drank it, only to find myself disappointingly unbuzzed. And then, when the soda shop opened up, they had variants of Jolt–Jolt Cherry, for instance–but not the original. Until now. From Wet Planet Beverages in Rochester, New York (I think), it’s JOLT!!!
First up, the trailer I tried to share yesterday and was unable to for tech reasons, Bang Bang Baby:
I hadn’t even heard of this until I saw the trailer on IndieWire. (I found this link at Awards Daily.) I’m digging it. It looks kind of like a blend of David Lynch and John Waters (especially Hairspray John Waters). No idea how much of a release it’ll get, but I’d like to check it out before my next awards.
This stuff is blue. Like, Scrubbing Bubble toilet water blue. My previous experience with Sioux City soda was quite satisfactory, so let’s see if BERRY BERRY lives up to that standard.
Damn, this stuff is blue.
Science fiction, mythic fantasy, musical biopic and spy thriller. A motley crew I was too lazy to write four individual reviews for. (All posters found at impawards.com)
I should’ve just written the reviews in Word and posted them once I got my connection back. I had an elaborate double review of Hercules and Lucy called “Demi-God & Goddess” all planned. Instead, I put it off–abetted, perhaps, by the sense of burnout I’d previously alluded to. Not that these are films that demand extensive analysis–even A Most Wanted Man is, all things considered, not especially provocative. But three of these are very good films, and one is often fascinating, even when it is maddening and rather dismaying in some of the choices it makes.
A compromised masterpiece, or a hopeless mess in any form? (Source)
I confess I’m at a disadvantage here. I’ve only seen the shortened North American release version; it was cut from around 130 minutes in France to around 90 minutes here. This was apparently in response to mixed reviews from the French release, and according to some, especially Boyd van Hoeij at Indiewire, the film is better off for the cuts. But I’m not so sure. Because while not without its charms, the Mood Indigo I saw was frenetic and often alienating, poorly paced and devolving into near-incoherence in the final moments.