Fight Club (I)

Koko: The first half of this movie is equal parts Friedrich Nietzsche and the Marquis de Sade; the second half is Jared Leto. Still, self-destruction has never been smarter. 100 just for having Edward Norton choose to fight Gandhi, a proposition that, if pondered long enough, will disclose the creepy little core that justifies decadence by annihilating pleasure.

Ass-Headed Bottom: As always, Black Francis did a fantastic job. But even if we could make one enormous bar of soap out of the rest of this movie, it would still somehow also be an ineffable pile of shit. I give it a 1.

Slothrop: Slothrop will momentarily save you both the wrath of his erection until he watches this film again. However, in as much as it is clear the truth lies somewhere between 1 and 100, at least Koko provided some semblance of evidence for his nonetheless outlandishly vulgar score. Ass-Head Bottom, on the other hand, what with his ass-head being stuck up a rhetorical gash, has not an ounce of dignity with regard to either his score or his defense of it. Sheeeeeeeeeeet, even Clay Davis had more proof.

Koko: He felt like destroying something beautiful.