Pick 67: Slick Flick Pick: Shining Stadium Lights on a Traitor--If Your Eggs Taste Like Shi*, They're a Hit (Who Has Jurisdiction over Addiction?); Drug War(un)fare (Traffic, 2000)

Recline, Cinematic Fanatics; let's unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick.Traffic is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick!When Slick Flick Pick is near, broach the concept of a walk across the parking lot instead of starting a car, but with the Obregon assassin coming for you’re a** you won't shuffle far, so abstain from eggs that taste like caca, be kind to theremaining DEA agents left to protect you, hide till your court date and stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's soothing semi-professional voice, you hear.Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I'm your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this thrice storyline story slick, fentanyl laced and evidence erased flick, poignantly pungent and profoundly prescient pick.Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy while we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 67: Slick Flick Pick: Shining Stadium Lights on a Traitor--If Your Eggs Taste Like Shi*, They're a Hit (Who Has Jurisdiction over Addiction?); (Traffic, 2000).Today, we discuss--the innate, astonishing and undeniable quality of Del Toro's acting prowess, the difference between a small corrupting cogue in a large corrupt Central American cesspool and a huge corrupt shiz stain on the underpants of America, how true love can be illustrated in many forms, between a pasty pale entitled bratty inductee into the honor roll and a dark drug dealing thug slum rapist who packs a phat blunt roll, the dangers of eating unauthorized eggs from a hotel bellhop, the hilarity in getting your toe shot off in a ball pit by an undercover cop, why the war on drugs makes as much sense, in market branding, as the war to end all wars, when creepy porcelain dolls morph to creepy high impact cocaine powdery porcelain dolls, when your last meal looms bright before you are forced to dig your own desert hole in the earth--un bistec is a fine choice indeed, where to meet when you are justifiably fearful of bugs, wires and mics, just don't forget your bathing suit, or, to be supremely safe, make them strip to their birthday suit.-Your worthwhile cinephile: a petty criminal and asweaty podcasting fiend: Falsetto ProphetP.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song,Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.