by James Tuttle
Over the weekend, I took Scott—or The Gimp, as he is known since fucking up his Achilles tendon last week—and braved the democratic hordes of Universal CityWalk with his crutches to catch the new Avengers movie. This was a happy accident since it happens to be Shoot Your Heroes Week here at PFC.
Chet Corey is available for the next superhero movie.
We’d have normally wandered down the hill to the super-luxe Arclight Cinemas but the movie wasn’t playing there and Disney’s beautifully restored El Capitan Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard wanted $30 a ticket, which they’ll get from me the day they pry it from my cold, dead fingers. Universal is just over the hill, though it sometimes seems light years away culturally. It’s really not so bad once you get the hang of the labyrinthine parking structure and the Mexican kids playing in their underwear in any available water feature.
THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES
by James Killough
This isn’t another review of The Avengers, but it is part of our impromptu Shoot Your Heroes Week here at PFC. While I’m not sure exactly what that means, I think it sounds rather dramatic and subversive enough to be one of our themes. Perhaps it will one of many, or perhaps this will be the first and last.
My new friend Adam Von Rothfelder isn’t my hero, but I’m certainly a fan. (Ph: P. Reizt)
‘Shoot Your Heroes’ comes from the fact I’ve only had two heroes in my life, one of whom—a producer I admired more than any other in the business—I ended up wanting to kill after she tried unsuccessfully to fuck me over by poaching my investors on a film. The other, Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton, died in 1890, but I’m pretty sure I would have want to shoot him, too, at some point.