$222 Million Bombs

I want Howard Hawks back, and Howard the Hughes and O. Selznick too, if that's what it takes. Oh dialogue, or dialog if you prefer, they say and said it once, in service of the stories told: Middle English dialog, from Old French dialogue, from Latin dialogus, from Greek dialogos, conversation, from dialegesthai, to discuss. Break it into pieces then: Greek dia, through. French dialecte, from Old French, from Latin dialectus, form of speech, from Greek dialektos, speech, from dialegesthai, to discourse, use a dialect : dia- between, over, through + legesthai, middle voice of legein, to speak. Felix Da Housecat Glitz Clubhead Mix of Playgirl, stuck at the 2:02 remaining mark, where the when meets the beat that bores in for the kill. Loop it! I remind the jury that this doesn't have to make sense, and I find that just interminably boring; anyway, one of you, has been gotten to. Not really! I'm easily amused. My Uncle H let me hammer nails into wood, for a respite I imagine, and I purple nailed myself and made that hammer sing, because we need to feel things fall under us, under our weights. Driving nails, driving crazy, we like the fear as much as the masticating, and we like our food in/a lots. Obese singers for backup, and they will go harmony on you, piling out of the black minivans just like the jumpout boys and turf terrorists, singing you to sleep in slow motion, just like a soaked in syrup and vacuum packed no escape scene; then you awake wet and squinched of face, booted rebooted: "It's okay, it was only bad dream."