Hey there, reader! It’s me! Matt Donato! Safe, sound, and definitely not tied up while Deadpool hijacks his…I mean…MY computer! Wait. Let’s just delete that part – and why am I typing in a steady stream of conscious? We’ll figure that out later. For now, delete. Why aren’t you working. You stupid little keyboard minion, I will unleash HOLY HELL IF YOU DON’T UNSTICK YOURSELF FROM THIS CHIMICHANGA SAUCE THAT WAS DEFINITELY HERE ALREADY. Well, I guess I can’t delete anything. Better be on my A+ journalism game. Can’t be that hard…because I’m Matt Donato, and live glued to a keyboard!
I’m here to tell you why Deadpool is the grooviest, most ass-kicking, henchman-decapitating explosion of orgasmic AWESOMENESS that’d excite even a stone-cold bastard like Old Man Logan. Sweet, crotchety, oh-so-handsomely-rugged…KEEP IT TOGETHER DEADPOOL. Think unsexy thoughts. Baseball. Sammy Sosa. Derek Jeter. Bartolo Colon. DAMMIT. Be right back readers, Dea…Donato needs a quicky cold shower. Don’t go anywhere!
*Five minutes later* – seriously, why do I keep typing EVERYTHING?! It’s like some convenient writing mechanism to…WAIT, I CAN INSERT PICTURES AT RANDOM?!
God dammit you spandexy studmuffin. Burt Reynolds who??
Alright. After spit-shining the pipes a bit to remove any blockage, let’s cut the bullshit. Who gives a fuck about some stupid introduction where I babble about backstory and why the movie was made and UGHHHH BORRRRING. You sheep just want to click through a list and read big, bold headlines, so you can drop steamy digital deuces in the comments section.
Hell, I don’t even need to write any coherent thoughts. You’ll just tear main points apart, telling me to do unspeakable things to my family members, and then I’ll get your address from one of my many corrupt hacker friends. What happens after that will be up to you. So play nice, OK kids? OR YOU WILL FEEL THE WRATH OF MY (DEFINITELY STILL MATT DONATO AND NOT DEADPOOL) ARSENAL OF DOOOOOOOOOM!
<!–nextpage–> Wait, why didn’t – OH. Embedding. Right. Got it.
