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No brain, no pain, and he'd probably walk around for 30 years wondering what that the hell that piece of lead was that was blunting his razor. Now, Rumsfeld...
When I have the inevitable pounding hangover on Sunday morning, and I see guys in *suits* pounding on my door, I gotta wonder what the hell they are thinking of. Still, I can't recall ever having a scientologist disturbing my sleep at 1 PM on a sunny Sunday afternoon...
:)
Love scientology, hate scientology: this movie just plain S U C K E D !
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