Alas, a single click on the Random Game Name Generator and this delicious, distant-cousin-and-yet-dead uncle w/o kin living next to grandma Joeyyce who landed the "role" "silouettee" to Regans many crayola-pukes in The Exorcist, and as strong as the demon was the rider of the wind as strong is the gametitle to which I shall finally embark on my own Apollo 11 journey whilst singing "To the Moon, To the Moon - Behold the Franchise:
"_______-*Penultimate Underpants III*-__________"!!!
Ps. Thanks! God bless. And may the force be with you. When the revenue won't stop coming, I'll be sure to shovel some of it to here. Where the magic happened. Count me in as well to produce, direct, cast and hire John Carpenter AND John Williams, send them both to Greenland to make a 70's disco-version of The Thing/Escape from New York/Jaws and Star Wars with a touch of Halloween, a story about a Kathleen Kennedy look-alike telling the Star Wars fanbase why it went down - doooown - as it did with Star Wars VII-VIII+Soyo - it is not easy for the luckiest chick on the face of the planet to run errands reminding everyone anytime what will happen to them in the closet with Chewie if they disrespect the NDA, yet it was her that came 100th of a parsec from a Hells Angels biker's ear that Dart Vader was Luke's father and this was in 1978!!! To loop back to the script, Kathleen experiences women's lib and the rise of feminism as crystal clear as when you try and read an airplane banner while looking through a pair of binoculars the wrong way. Hence, her solution which should have put her in the penalty box for life ALREADY and as she ain't it is time to tell the real truth about what was awakened by her Maria Magdalena-complex: THE RISE OF DONALD TRUMP. As divided the fanbase became, it wasn't just A FANBASE! It was roundish 30% of the 54% leaving 46% of the american populus that just refused to vote - AGAIN - just like in the past elections during the friggin 20th century. SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD that what was supposed to be the greatest democracy on the face of the planet never could rise above a 60% of the american population that actually took their lardasses (sorry Trump is a lardass, no one else, he wobbles when he walks, the german/scottish lad that he is. And my movie will tell it all. And it shall be called "Penultrumpimate Underpants size XXXLLLIII" with the tagline: "She forgot the times she had been living (in) so that he who can't remember a monday although it is still monday leaving an almost infinite opportunities to blow himnself only to exit with an even more obnoxious ego-xeno-Greedo but both she and he can take their wooden teeth and shove it!"