Even coyotes hated House of Wax

I’m of the caste of individuals who could care as much about the exploits of a stuck-up heiress (or former heiress, at least) as I do the sales figures for Darius Rucker’s new solo CD, a copy of which is inexplicably sitting on the makeshift cardboard table next to my desk. I’m a firm believer in the argument that individuals should actually have to DO something to achieve a modicum of public attention, and that this entire school of celebrities-because-they’re-celebrities makes me want to erl in my hummus. I once regularly read a Web site (sadly, now defuct) for a group that regularly protested Paris Hilton book release events and organized boycotts of Carlos Mencia’s visual abortion that somehow got mislabeled as a television show.

This news story is horrible in its implied brutality. But something about it seems so …. so … crunchy. Read.

It’s the same kind of perverse pleasure I would get if those guys responsible for the horrendous Disaster/Epic/etc. Movie franchise came home one day to find their production equipment stolen and replaced with a trailer full of the creatures from Tremors 2. Man, that would be a sweet, sweet victory for art.

Does this make me a bad person? Probably. But seriously, 17 dogs? Even Acme products can’t fail all the time.

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