You Genius: Heaping insurmountable piles of shit

There’s been a rumor (it’s actually true) that film director Woody Allen and actress Scarlett Johansson have been dating each other. At the very least, they’ve been seeing each other; she has already starred in a second movie of his. The thought of the hottest star in Hollywood even mingling with the most neurotic dweeb gives me reason to kill myself. Woody, you’re the antithesis of beauty. Scarlett you’re such a starlet. I have a hard time wondering how, in her right mind, she can even touch Woody’s wood. She outshines him in every way: her voice is deeper, she’s taller and a better actor. Did I mention the sharp contrast in beauty? One look at Woody and you begin to dry heave. One look at Scarlett and you soil yourself, in a good way. One viewing of an Allen movie and you’re intrigued, but irritably annoyed at Allen’s egghead acting. You would like to go to New York (idk, Lower East Side or wherever he resides) and punch him vigorously in the face. One view at Scarlett in a movie and you’re seduced. You know you can’t bed her so you’re relegated to sitting, jaw-dropped, in a motionless trance, staring at the aptly figured femme fatale. How are such opposites together? This must be a Beauty and the Beast re-enactment, Allen’s real life encounter with a woman… A tidbit of how Woody Allen is the most vulgar human being out there: he wrote a horrible scene in his 80s film, Crime and Misdemeanors. This is a warning to you Scarlet; don’t be swayed to Allen’s cavernous eccentricities, like many famous actresses already have. Woody Allen’s sister is telling her brother about the guy she’s been dated a few times. It goes as such: They’ve gone on a few dates, but as for the most recent date (and last hopefully), he took her salsa dancing. They had a great time, finally being able to connect. So he whispers in her ear and they head to her place. They feverishly commence necking before they cross the door’s threshold and do not let up. From there the horror draws nearer. On this third date with him, she admits she still did not know him that well, but that they engaged in sexual relations. No clean-cut fucking took place. He persuaded her that he and his previous partners had had sexual enlightenment, nirvana if you will, by way of S&M. He ties her arms and legs to the bed posts; defenseless to her sexual passions, sort of in a King Kong fashion. He was no King Kong, but what he did next is an animal tactic, an instinct or a call of the wild. After laying her, he got up but did not untie her. He climbed upon the bed, dropped his briefs and squatted. There he took a massive dump on her naked stomach and chest. We don’t see this but the imagination of such an event is endless. She tells Woody she’s traumatized. She sat tied up, with crap on her chest. The sight and smell of the dung (esp. if he ate some beans) must have dulled her senses. I relay this story to tell of Woody’s grand, diabolical plan for Scarlett and others as this geeky low life seeks hotties by luring them into his trap. Months from now when Woody perches upon your bed and straddles your torso and lets loose, I’ll say, I told you Scarlett!