Thursday, June 26, 2008


I don't smoke. Except when I'm on fire. Which is rare. Because I'm like Mitch Hedberg:
I was at this casino minding my own business, and this guy came up to me and said, "You're gonna have to move, you're blocking a fire exit." As though if there was a fire, I wasn't gonna run. If you're flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.
But Matthew Broderick smokes. Which saddens me, as I don't really want to think about Ferris Bueller's lungs looking all sad and black and non-cool. And even worse, he recently revealed that he and his wife, the always fashionably quirky Sarah Jessica Parker, may be raising a little smoker. Stop it, Ferris. Stop it.

I rant a little on this parenting disaster over at MovieZen.

And for those who adore Ferris as much as I do, here's a little tribute. Very Requiem for a Dream.

Scary. Just like smoking.

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