Everybody shut up and look at what you are reading - Count Tiffany Glaze’s latest Studio 8 Media Review! Now before I jump into the hideous subject of this week, I want to make sure that you people all know how brilliant I am. Here's a few publications that have been lucky enough to publish my opinions on things: Gross Food Quarterly, Touch a Duck's Butthole Magazine, The Weekly Conspiracy, and The 'Mommy, Why Won't Jesus Shut Up?' Pamphlet. Now that you are aware of my fame and talent, I hope that you can contain yourselves and pay attention and not beg me for autographs for at least five minutes.

This week I wasted my hard earned time and barely earned fortune on a couple of tickets to see a religious propaganda film entitled The Passion of the Christ. I wrote that in red and underlined it in red just to be sure that you know that a nude and bleeding Jesus bleeds out a lot of red blood in this bloody movie. Before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you a few reasons why I hated this movie (as I do ALL movies) and why you would be better just staying at home and reading all of my old movie reviews:

1. I overheard in a dirty Korean toilet stall last week that Mel Gibson was supposed to be in this movie. He wasn't. I was looking forward to watching his genitals get flogged by Julius Caesar, but I guess I will have to wait until the sequel to Braveheart for that one. Moron.

2. Every goddamn person in America knows the story of Jesus dying on the cross. Do they really need to see it, too? Well, I guess they do because they're all idiots.

3. Yours truly, Count Tiffany Glaze, was once again passed over like the bloody door of Biblical times to fill the lead role in this movie. Every month, I send a letter to Warner Bros. and the big Hollywood sign in Hollywood that outlines in very clear detail that I am available to star in whatever film they need me to, as long as I am given top billing and more money than is necessary. Fools.

4. I never got to see the entire length of this movie because so many people were wailing and gnashing their teeth in the theater, I was almost forced to gouge my own wrists with a ballpoint pen so everyone would stop their sniveling and whining. I knew that it wouldn't help, and besides, I hate helping people or the world in general, so I abstained. Simpletons.

     Now for the giblets and gravy of this review. Those of you who are excessively attentive or somewhat autistic may have noticed that somewhere above in this review I mentioned that I purchased 2 tickets to see this movie. That is because I had to buy a ticket for myself and for my gorgeous romantic date - His Royal Greatness Tee-Jee Whisker Glutes.

     Stop right there before your filthy mind insinuates any further debauchery. This date was for my mind, not for my genitalia. I do have my limits on where and when sexual inappropriateness should be carried out - inside the theater and not outside where everyone can see you and give you their diseases.

     Needless to mention, His Royal Greatness and I had arrived at the cinema one long hour before the picture was set to start. Unfortunately, it meant that we had to sit through the end of the movie that played on the screen previously. I didn't pay too much attention to it, but it appeared to be some kind of hallucinatory New Age pornographic movie about some depressing, sallow religious guru who allowed himself to be manhandled to the point of death for seemingly no reason.

     Several unpleasant belches escaped my rear end whilst that cinematic trash was finishing up and I became rather antsy and ripe for The Passionate Christ to start its bloody course. Now before I go regaling you with the sexual details of my passionate evening with Tee-Jee, allow me to explain my religious background to you.

     My parents sent me to church often enough for me to know that I did not want anything to do with church or religion. After that, I have not given the spiritual world another glance, nor another dime. If that offends you, then it must mean that you are a preacher or a devil worshipper, and you won't matter in half a millennium when Christianity fizzles out anyway.

     So back to the night at hand. And back to the hands that nuzzled the cortex of my back. Indeed, Tee-Jee's royal fingering began as soon as the first movie ended and the janitor creatures began cleaning up the refuse from the previous movie-goers. And despite all of the cursing and spitting and screaming that came upon the movie screen over the next two hours, the fingers continued to work away at what they do inside and around my exquisite chiseled bodice.

     I must admit, that every once in a while I became either tired or bored with the pain I was feeling and I looked up into the unhappy face of whatever no-name actor was playing that Christ guy in the movie. What I saw was something similar to a vision from Heaven. I saw a man who was very dumb and he just kept getting hit with things and then falling down and getting back up and slipping around in his own intestines and sometimes even getting HIS OWN BLOOD IN HIS OWN MOUTH!

     When I witnessed that last part, I shuddered a deep and foul shudder. His Royal Highness supposed that I had finally reached my state of orgasm and he withdrew his magical digits from my flesh and bones. Figuring that he had paid for the price of his admission to the movie, he settled down and attempted to enjoy the rest of the movie. However, he had missed several key plot points, such as:

- Why was Jesus not dead yet?
- Who were all of those people on the screen?
- What was that fat lady in front of me wearing in her hair?
and, of course,
- Why didn't Jesus put on some pants before he committed all of those crimes?

     At that point in the movie, I fell asleep and didn't wake up until the next afternoon when I was rousted out of the cinema's dumpster by a young, be-pimpled man who told me that he would try to touch me if I didn't leave. How I ended up in the dumpster, where His Royal Greatness went, and how the Christ Man movie ended, I'll never know. What I do know is that it is Nap Time in Glaze Manor and I am going to have to tuck myself to bed somehow without moving from this computer because I am feeling queasy from the memories of the story I just regurgitated to you people.

     If you have a movie that you would like me to review in the future, I would hope that you can shove that movie review request inside of your rectal cavity and then sit on it because I am too busy to even think about you or try to do anything nice for you. I am not "kidding" or "joking," either. I'm not writing anything else tonight, just to show you how much I hate you other people most of the time.