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Chemohawk Sessions - Pick 34: Slick Flick Pick: Whistleblow, will Crowe--Prying Inside Info from an Outsider (You're Gonna Get Your Slick Flick Fix); (The Insider, 1999)

Pick 34: Slick Flick Pick: Whistleblow, will Crowe--Prying Inside Info from an Outsider (You're Gonna Get Your Slick Flick Fix); (The Insider, 1999)

Explicit content warning

05/25/23 • 80 min

Chemohawk Sessions

Don't say can't to Dr. Wigant.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics!

Allow Othello and me the pleasure of walking your whistleblowing, partially seeing--but mostly knowing-- threatening to cripple the titan industry capitalizing on the profits which keep cancer sticks' cherries glowing, carcinogens flowing and the cigarette smokescreen up our collective a**es blowing, his former tobacco company's look-the-other-way-vision-statement-line he ain't godd*** towing, he is curt, brusque, abrasive, not easygoing, he's socially inept, not outgoing, but he is as dogged as his insider information mind-blowing, and of his conviction to unveil the gripping truth...his way--he shows no signs of slowing. This is one of the quietest, least bombastic of Mann's film digest but it outshines all others for it's so fstars fantastic and hits us hard, impacts our moral stirrings and emotionally resonates more than all the rest, where two accomplished, astonishing--as natural as they are preternatural actors bring their best, a tale of a man to the limits of his sanity-- pressed, his veracity and morality second godd*** guessed, when sitting in a hotel room alone, despondent, defeated and distressed, the mural morphs to an indistinguishable meld of delirium and memory for he is severly stressed, and while in boxy, bland suits, tacky Jets shirts or otherwise awkwardly dressed, he keeps his back straight, puffed out chest, he gives the finger to the overwhelming odds, on himself bets, and continues his quest with a risky and admirable zest, you witness Jeffrey both oppressed and depressed; he remains a man possessed and, with revealing his telling truth--obsessed, Othello and I feel, though the Pantheon of Mann's films are all of staggering, peerless quality, this slick flick stands his best and, with pleasure, we serve as your auditory delivery device for Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main cigarette smoke plume vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are our Cinematic Fanatics; we, your worthwhile f****** cinephiles.

For your 34th episode, Othello and I, passionately--almost overzealously, profess our well-articulated adoration while simultaneously blessing and undressing one of our most cherished investigative journalism rich, keeping you, at times, in the dark and in suspense drama films, perhaps our most lauded Michal Mann films, unequivocally his most powerful, angry, vital, memorable, emotionally-churning, slow-burning, stimulating, impact-boosting, not only surrounding a subject that has directly, indirectly, second-hand wise and adversely infiltrated the lives and lungs of millions of Americans, but that handles said subject in such a confident and candid way your eyes are glued to the screen in moments both serene and obscene, both unfiltered and unclean; this remains one of the very best films released in the 90's, in the last 25 years, in cinematic history; I have lauded this film since my first Blockbuster rental high school era viewing.

Enter, with us, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality... We offer you: Pick 34: Slick Flick Pick: Whistleblow, will Crowe--Prying Inside Info from an Outsider (You're Gonna get your Slick Flick Fix); (The Insider, 1999). Today, we'll discuss how they try to silence his truths, snuff out his voice as though a butt in an ash tray; Jeff's got a shit load on his mind--even more to say, nevermind his abhorrent wife, it's for his doted on daughters, we pray; though big tobacco remained a giant, industrial titan godlike in its ability to its naysayer's reputations slay, they could not silence, sideline, stifle, shush, strong-arm or suppress Dr. fstars Wigant, and for that he proved their sleekest threat, not their meekest prey.

Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and Othello

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

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Don't say can't to Dr. Wigant.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics!

Allow Othello and me the pleasure of walking your whistleblowing, partially seeing--but mostly knowing-- threatening to cripple the titan industry capitalizing on the profits which keep cancer sticks' cherries glowing, carcinogens flowing and the cigarette smokescreen up our collective a**es blowing, his former tobacco company's look-the-other-way-vision-statement-line he ain't godd*** towing, he is curt, brusque, abrasive, not easygoing, he's socially inept, not outgoing, but he is as dogged as his insider information mind-blowing, and of his conviction to unveil the gripping truth...his way--he shows no signs of slowing. This is one of the quietest, least bombastic of Mann's film digest but it outshines all others for it's so fstars fantastic and hits us hard, impacts our moral stirrings and emotionally resonates more than all the rest, where two accomplished, astonishing--as natural as they are preternatural actors bring their best, a tale of a man to the limits of his sanity-- pressed, his veracity and morality second godd*** guessed, when sitting in a hotel room alone, despondent, defeated and distressed, the mural morphs to an indistinguishable meld of delirium and memory for he is severly stressed, and while in boxy, bland suits, tacky Jets shirts or otherwise awkwardly dressed, he keeps his back straight, puffed out chest, he gives the finger to the overwhelming odds, on himself bets, and continues his quest with a risky and admirable zest, you witness Jeffrey both oppressed and depressed; he remains a man possessed and, with revealing his telling truth--obsessed, Othello and I feel, though the Pantheon of Mann's films are all of staggering, peerless quality, this slick flick stands his best and, with pleasure, we serve as your auditory delivery device for Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main cigarette smoke plume vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are our Cinematic Fanatics; we, your worthwhile f****** cinephiles.

For your 34th episode, Othello and I, passionately--almost overzealously, profess our well-articulated adoration while simultaneously blessing and undressing one of our most cherished investigative journalism rich, keeping you, at times, in the dark and in suspense drama films, perhaps our most lauded Michal Mann films, unequivocally his most powerful, angry, vital, memorable, emotionally-churning, slow-burning, stimulating, impact-boosting, not only surrounding a subject that has directly, indirectly, second-hand wise and adversely infiltrated the lives and lungs of millions of Americans, but that handles said subject in such a confident and candid way your eyes are glued to the screen in moments both serene and obscene, both unfiltered and unclean; this remains one of the very best films released in the 90's, in the last 25 years, in cinematic history; I have lauded this film since my first Blockbuster rental high school era viewing.

Enter, with us, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality... We offer you: Pick 34: Slick Flick Pick: Whistleblow, will Crowe--Prying Inside Info from an Outsider (You're Gonna get your Slick Flick Fix); (The Insider, 1999). Today, we'll discuss how they try to silence his truths, snuff out his voice as though a butt in an ash tray; Jeff's got a shit load on his mind--even more to say, nevermind his abhorrent wife, it's for his doted on daughters, we pray; though big tobacco remained a giant, industrial titan godlike in its ability to its naysayer's reputations slay, they could not silence, sideline, stifle, shush, strong-arm or suppress Dr. fstars Wigant, and for that he proved their sleekest threat, not their meekest prey.

Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and Othello

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Previous Episode

undefined - Hellbound Binding 2: Slick Page Flip: Read Between the Humanoid Vines; (Book Comparison/Carbonless Copy Annihilation film and Annihilation novel)

Hellbound Binding 2: Slick Page Flip: Read Between the Humanoid Vines; (Book Comparison/Carbonless Copy Annihilation film and Annihilation novel)

Greetings Cinematic Fanatics, in this particular case, you Hellbound Book Hounds! The only thing more satisfying than a gorgeous and flawlessly executed standalone Slick Flick Pick is one that honors, if not exceeds, the splendor of its novel source material. Sometimes a screenplay, or film, has been novelized into a riveting read; conversely, an analogue bound book is oft condensed and converted, via a complex digital undertaking, to a cinematic adaptation. Some of the very slickest, sleekest, passionately picked flicks I've had the pleasure of enjoying originated with a Slick Page Flip I took pride in perusing. The age old debate remains as heated and vitriolic as ever, the lingering, pesky, vexing question: is the slick flick pick better than the slick page flip? Sometimes this answer proves easier than slicing your finger's flesh on the corner of a page in a hellbound book; I offer the example of Annihilation, the flick is superior to the novel--but not vastly so-- while no doubt novel, source--however the Slick Page Flip of Jurassic Park outshines the merit of its cinematic expression, and there is no dearth of merit to that Slick Flick Pick. While I will not perform this companion, contrast/comparison analysis between the primitive novel and polished flick on every Slick Flick Pick, I will grant you the gift of an either/or/both discussion when I find the right pairing of bound paper and waxy film. Enjoy you Hellbound Book Hounds and Cinematic Fanatics as I investigate these various bound collections and similar comparisons to their corresponding flick-- remain on track with your deft, rapt attention in tact through an aurally pleasing perusal as you sate your curiosity with each passing slick flick/page flip pleasure on my Chemohawk rack.

Snuggle the fstars up with a bloody, slick HellBound Book in your secretive nook.

As you earn each paper cut, you'll feel the characters in your gut.

Whether binding open or cover shut, you've wed the novel--the flick serves merely as your mistress slut.

Here, we unwind some novel binding for this is where final cut greets papercut!

The Slick Flick Pick we will be discussing: Pick 33: Slick Flick Pick: Carbonless Copy--Further Down the Lighthouse Hole; (E.T.S.D.); (Annihilation, 2018) and while that flick was undoubtably slick we can examine that slickness with the slick bound binding of Annihilation.

The biologist, A.K.A. Lena, remains blood slick bound and gripped by an otherworldly, mystical manuscript!

Today you are gifted the treat of aurally checking out this edition **Second selection of Slick Page Flip** from my Chemohawk Library Rack: Hellbound Binding 2: Slick Page Flip: Read Between the Humanoid Vines; (Book Comparison/Carbonless Copy Annihilation film and Annihilation novel)

Your freestyle logophile, bibliophile and cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Next Episode

undefined - Pick 35: Slick Flick Pick: Bad to the Endoskeleton Bone--Slayground Surprise, Ashen Skies and Glowing Red Eyes; (Terminator 2: Judgement Day, 1991) **With Brother Gambit's Aural Appearance**

Pick 35: Slick Flick Pick: Bad to the Endoskeleton Bone--Slayground Surprise, Ashen Skies and Glowing Red Eyes; (Terminator 2: Judgement Day, 1991) **With Brother Gambit's Aural Appearance**

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics!

Allow us the futuristic, yet present tense, time travailing pleasure of bouncing and beaming you through a time warp portal, you but a cold, calculating cyborg emissary, your mission: stalking, chauffeuring and eating bullets for one tweener/savior/mortal. Connor may just convince you to smile but never fstars chortle; painless the program of your terminator a** would be if the Connors were immortal, but Brother Gambit and I are your alloy thighed, glowing red eyed cybernetic assassin slash protectors, mechanized, weaponized endoskeleton frames concealed by organic tissue, humorless, futuristic wormhole-beamed messengers gifting you this shocking, sensational, stupendous, scary, superior sequel treat of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main cybernetic vein of Chemohawk Sessions. There are scenes so jaw-dropping, visually striking and intense, such as when Mr. 1000 puts the petal to the liquid metal in pursuit of one schemer, scammer, tweener: Connor, keeping John, Arnold, the L.A. River rats and us, in suspense; in this role, Rob Patrick proves a dick, if you don't help him, to his terminator satisfaction, you, he'll push around, pull out of the bobcat rig to the ground, silently take down, stab, poke or otherwise liquid metal prick, but he reminds us in the Galleria, whilst looking at the silver mannequin head, that he's as sleek as he is slick: he both owns the screen and propels the plot in this sequel slick flick. This is a gorgeously grim, human value contemplating, outrageously satisfying continuation flick that crosses the space time continuum into a trio of genres: sci-fi, action, thriller-- it transitions so seamlessly between genres and oft simultaneously, in such a way, that you process it as a simple study in filmmaking sleekness.

This flick is comprised of two machines, one prepubescent tweener, one mile-mannered sheep in wolves clothing Miles Dyson and one knee capping, bit** slapping, double tapping paramilitary, as chary and wary as she is scary, who spends half this slick flick barefoot for she is the only one, in present time, who knows humanity's future is uncertain, our technological programs amiss, and Skynet's plan already afoot with an apocalyptic agenda we cannot dismiss badass, ripped, mother/savior/chick, who takes her liquid metal licks and keeps on soldiering-- though she spends a lot of the film's running time people watching at the slayground, and pumping-- into the T-1000's mold--round after godda** round, whether she is staring, screaming, fake sleeping, lock-picking, victim of face licking or comatose without a sound, Sarah remains tightly fstars wound for she spent time at a paramilitary compound and if you mess with her kid, her freedom or lick her face, she'll put you in the fuc**** ground.

We offer you: Slick Flick Pick: Bad to the Endoskeleton Bone-- Slayground Surprise, Ashen Skies and Glowing Red Eyes (There's No Fate but what Sequels we Make for Audiences); (Terminator 2: Judgement Day, 1991). Today, we discuss-- the likelihood of contracting athletes' foot while running around barefoot in the psych ward of a facility, a large swathe of locations including the Galleria, L.A. River, Cyberdyne Headquarters, freeways, on ramps, an fstars foundry and the outskirts of the city, though ripped as she may be, next to Arnold, Linda still seems itty-bitty, compared to the first Terminator, Arnold has grown rather fuc**** witty and though comic relief reveals itself, this slayground surprise and ashen skied thriller is as grim as it is gritty.

Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and Brother Gambit

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

F.C.F.U. The T-888 is a variant of the T-800 Terminator mass-produced by Skynet.

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