John Goodman (Jesuit) Puns

I’m just here to ponder on why he hasn’t done more roles like this. I really enjoyed his role in this movie and after a quick read through of his biography, it seems like he hasn’t and isn’t doing roles like this. It just seemed so natural and left me wanting for more from him in this genre.

Anyone have any thoughts on that? Any titles I’m missing or any insight?

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

This is one of my favorite 90s horror films, it doesn't seem to be talked about alot but it's such a creepy flick with a very scary premise. Great cast of actors in it as well, aside from Denzel, Goodman & Sutherland, you had Elias Koteas, the late James Gandolfini, Embeth Davidtz, Gabriel Casseus, Robert Joy, Aida Turturro etc. who were all solid in their performances. To this day, the thought of something like that happening makes all the more creepier and scarier. I mean, how could you possibly fight something like that? >!The whole fate of the Detective Hobbes' character is heartbreaking, Azazel puts him through so much that you're rooting for him to get one over on Azazel, his name, reputation & family are destroyed, and much like Milano, Reese and others, they are used as pawns in Azazel's twisted game. When I first saw the film when it came out, I caught a big clue near the end of the film. When the narration's like: "It's just him and me now, Hobbes versus Azazel." I legit wondered to myself, why did he phrase it like that because him saying it like that makes it seem like he's Azazel, and then the ending happened. My friend and I looked on in shock and disbelief. Such a great twist ending that causes you to see the film differently than you did when you first watched it. And the way they looked when Azazel possessed them, they looked really creepy, especially their eyes.!<

I loved the usage of the Stones' classics 'Time is on My Side' and 'Sympathy for the Devil.' The end of that film is easily one of the best horror film endings to any horror flick I've seen. Real shame that the film doesn't get mentioned much, if at all these days. I remember when it was released, Gene Siskel didn't like this film when he and Ebert reviewed it back in the day. He thought it was too violent. Ebert, however, did enjoy the film. I don't think Siskel really understood the film though tbh. Any fans of this crazy film? And did you think there should've been a sequel to see what else happened? What did you think of the premise, the villain and that crazy ending? And which scenes, if any, actually creeped you out? What do you think you would've done if you were in Hobbes' position?

I absolutely love the sleezy lawyer John Phillips

It’s hilarious watching the guy, the second he appeared on the show I immediately picked up on the fact that he was a sleezeball and a media whore in it for the publicity. And the way he talks reminds me of Saul Goodman, even his voice sounds like Saul. The way he keeps narcissistically inserting himself into the story is hilarious, the guy understands that in the court of law provable facts are what matter but in the court of public opinion and the media saying outlandish things that you can’t prove but can get people to believe is what matters and he takes full advantage of it

What’s even funnier is that on the surface he seems incompetent and like he’s just here for the publicity but it looks like he might actually know what he’s doing and get Joe out of jail. Sort of like how lawyers and judges always think Saul is an incompetent hack and con artist but he always finds a loophole or an argument to win the case and shocks everyone. It’s just hilarious to watch this guy work, but yes he is a total sleezeball

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This re

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real

You forgot John Goodman.

You don't know who the fuck John Goodman is. John-fucking-Goodman.

When I say you, I don't mean you in the singular. I mean you as a society, a civilization, a goddamn species.

"John Goodman? Should I know him?"

Yes, you fucking should.

But you don't, and that there’s the existential problem.

I present The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude abides." Jeff Bridges. Pretty good, right? Wrong. What did you think of Walter Sobchak? "Walter who?" That right there is what I call the point.

"Hey, how come Sulley in Monsters, Inc. doesn't talk?"

Voiced by John Goodman.

Guess what? Roseanne has a husband. The Flintstones movie has a Fred Flintstone. There's a scary big-ass man in the car with Llewyn Davis, etc., etc.

Poof.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was...

John Goodman.

So here's what's going to happen:

One day you'll remember John Goodman. Except it won’t be in the Oh, right, Ankara’s the capital of Turkey-kind of way. It’ll be I’m fucking my wife and oh-my-fucking-gawd I’m fucking John Goodman. You’ll glance in the mirror: “Morning, John Goodman.” Your dog will look up at you and it’ll be John Goodman with fucking fur on his face. Come on, be a mensch and toss little John Goodman a treat, perhaps a little scrap—

of your life, your identity, your very existence, you gullible mothefucker!

Give John Goodman a bone, he’ll use it to rip your soul out through your throat and wear it to your son’s first communion. “You proud of me, dad?”

asks John Goodman.

Because when John Goodman disappears from our collective memory, it’s for one reason only: to come back with a fucking vengeance. Just wait until you’re surrounded by a room full of John Goodmans, speed dating John Goodman after John Goodman, dining on John Goodman’s braised thigh with a side of halloumi cheese made from milk freshly squeezed from John Goodman.

You think you know this, right? You’ve seen Being John Malkovich.

Wrong.

You’ve only seen the version without John Goodman, the version John Goodman wanted you to see. The wouldn’t this be funny? version. “Would you look at that, a world full of John Malkoviches.” The version in which you can go in and out of John Malkovich. Did you laugh?

Are you laughing now?

Well, it ain’t gonna be fucking funny!

There isn’t going to be a way out. You won’t be going in and out of John Goodman world. John Goodman will penetrate, dominate and annihilate the only world there is:

This one.

This real