I read many things in the Argus that disturb me. (Jose Chapa’s assertion that whites hold a monopoly on douchebaggery comes to mind.) However, never have I been distressed enough that I felt compelled to fire back with a Wespeak of my own. That all changed when I read Matt Connolly’s recent film review. Mr. Connolly, you presented us with a well-worded, logically constructed critique of the Borat movie. I will make no attempt to mirror your analytic style in my rebuttal. I will say this however. If you can watch a writhing man sporting a Tom-Selleck-circa-1980 mustache scream curses in foreign tongues whilst being smothered by the testes of his overweight friend and not realize you are viewing something on par with Michelangelo’s David, then you, sir, are dead on the inside.



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