Editor’s Note: I am extremely busy with monetizing the site, SEO, dinners with famous F-list celebrities, and dedicating a majority of my waking hours to producing the content that you desire. I have decided to hire an additional writer to provide a new perspective to skiinginjeans.com.
Harold Somailitz, age 75, was discovered at McDonald’s as he was downing his 8th cup of coffee that morning. He was busy looking up the closing prices of his stocks in the newspaper [for all you kids under 30, a newspaper was popular form used for communicating current events in the 20th century. Although, they are still produced today, most of the time, they provide kindling for fireplaces or lining the bottom of birdcages].
Harold will be contributing to a new feature called “Harold’s Movie Reviews.” We are paying him below minimum wage, so we do not anticipate him to add much value to this blog or to contribute anything that anyone would consider worthwhile. As the saying goes in the Internet world, “Content is King.” Let it rip Harold.
Harold’s Movie Review: Draft Day
Draft Day is a good movie. I remember when I got drafted into my fraternity. Now days, kids call it “pledging”, but back then we called it “drafting” because it took work to join. Kids today are a bunch of panty wastes. Back in my day, you got drafted, because you were tough enough to get take a hundred licks with the draft paddle on your keister then sit down and watch the next guy take his paddling. Today, kids are running home to mommy for a Band-Aid because they cut themselves with a butter knife when they were trying to dice a hot dog so they don’t choke.
Shortly after I was drafted, I started working on building some biceps to get the girls. In 2014, you guys try to talk to girls to get in touch with her emotions. Back when America still had guys working the line in Detroit’s auto factories, the only thing that mattered when getting the girl was being able to beat up her current boyfriend. If you wanted a girl, you just took her. Man, I took down some skirts in my day with my 26” biceps. Yeah, the girls loved my pipes.
Speaking of Detroit, what’s with the whipper snappers today and their eco-friendly, green cars that get 75 miles per gallon? What’s so hip about a car that you can fit in your pocket after you get done driving? I’ll tell you what a real car was, a 1970 Chevy Chevelle SS. No, not a Chevette, those cars sucked. A Chevelle. 450 horses, a 0-60 time of 6 seconds, four speed transmission, and more curb appeal than James Dean when he was plowing Elizabeth Taylor. Those cars would get any dame to look your way.