Oh man. Somewhere right now in this Universe our own Rendar Frankenstein is arching his back in a pants-splitting ejaculation rocket. Yes, it’s true. We are telepathically connected. Yes, this means I get strange boners in the middle of the night when he’s watching Only God Forgives for the 300th time in order to write a term paper about Lacanian Something Such. But it also means that *me* knowing about a Ghostbusters return to theaters means *he* also does. And I imagine he’s happy.

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