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Broke my heart, Frank. Any more excuses? No. Good. When you work with me, you'd be punctual. You got it?

Sorry, Frank. It won't happen again.

I'm just trying to protect your boss, dammit. This is FilmSack.

Oh, sure.

Hello and welcome to FilmSack. This is FilmSack, minding the very depths of film entertainment

from mankind. This is episode 547. I'm Scott Johnson. Join today by he. Sorry. Brian, he dropped

all his stuff on the way to bed, Jordan. Don't away.

I'm taking it all. I got to put it back on. Oh, hi. You know, at all, the Kennedy assassination conspiracy

theories, which there are many, I would have to say that the circling red for emphasis,

Photoshopped high and tight, dirty, hairy photo proving that Clint Eastwood was too hung over

from the night before to find taking a bullet for the president appealing. Well, the most

compelling I've heard while the bar tried to decide if I want to play the piano first or get

drunk first and then play the piano jazzy. Also, I always feel like Machovitch is watching me.

Oh, wait. Anywho, if you ever find yourself hanging off the ledge of a building and clinging to

John Machovitch, one hand and reaching for your gun with the other, don't bother. That dude will

deep throw to Smith and Wes and model 29, like a cartoon owl trying to get to the center of a

tootsie rope up. Now that is but Nash with a side of cockamami. Hey, Randy, go home. Hug your wife

and kid and keep your head out of freezer bags. Oh, I thought he had he was going to be a turncoat

and not die by the way. Yeah, I forgot about it. Well, I always feel like Machovitch is watching me,

...