A Modest Proposal: Don't See I Know Who Killed Me

I feel like I felt the day I realized that Christianity is bullshit. I just got back from the City North theatre on Western Avenue where I walked out of I Know Who Killed Me less than 30 minutes into the movie. Like every other movie in the world, the production was shit, the acting was hackneyed, and thematic content pandered to the worst tendencies of a cowardly people. But the fucking torture, man--fuck! I thought this was going to be some good, old-fashioned torture--like chaining Lindsay to a basement wall and whacking her tits with a belt while she sincerely instructed you to stop and maybe cried for a while. You know, like what any reasonable guy would do if he met her. It was nothing like that; it was some really sick shit--really fucking sick. I know I'm about two years behind everyone else on this, but my confidence in her has been seriously compromised. And now all I want to do is fucking dismember Hollywood and bury Kerasotes Theatres alive.