W.

Saw W. this weekend and it would have been a good film if it wasn’t so damn implausible. I mean, does Oliver Stone really expect us to believe that a spoiled doofus manchild alcoholic failure who can’t utter a single grammatically correct sentence could actually become President of the United States, surround himself with sycophants and start a preemptive war with a country on the flimsiest of intelligence while almost becoming the first president to assassinate himself using a pretzel?

Nice try Mr. Stone. Nice try.