Where you been, buddy?
Yeah? How’d it go?
Doing stuff is hard. I truly hate it.
You aspire to agoraphobia.
It’s a lofty goal. Or an apartmenty goal. Maybe a houseboaty goal.
Thinking about getting a houseboat?
I was scared of a cloud today; you think I’m getting near a boat?
Sure. Wait. It’s Tuesday. Half-price day at the movies. Did you see Punching Butt-chins?
No, and I’ve decided to boycott it.
You can’t boycott something by yourself. That’s just not going to a movie.
There’s an ethical and moral reasoning behind my non-participation, so it is a boycott.
Too many people went. If the film–which is universally derided–was a bomb and we definitely weren’t getting fifteen more of these dim and shitty turds, then I’d go to watch the trainwreck. But since everyone’s an idiot and gave Warner Brothers their money, I can’t support it.
This way, when Aquaman: Damp Justice and Wonder Woman: Boob Armor of Themiscyra and Green Lantern: Let’s Try This Again come out, I’ll have a clear conscience.
I know, right? And he’s got dreads and a beard and tattoos.
He’s not your father’s Aquaman.
They rastafied him by twenty percent, yeah.