Denzel Washington tells it like it is. Though not a conservative by any stretch of the imagination, he lacks the arrog ance, vapidity, and radical leftism peculiar to Hollywood personalities. Instead, he tends to speak the truth as he sees it in a reasonabIe, rational way that’s quite unlike what’s normally associated with Hollywood.
Such was the case back in 2016 when actors were patting themselves on the back and saying that making a movie was like going to a w ar zone…yes, really. Well, Denzel demolished that lie during an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, saying “People say ‘the difficulty of making a movie.’ Well, send your son to Iraq. That’s difficuIt. It’s just a movie, relax. I don’t play that precious nonsense. Your son got shot in the face? That’s difficult. Making a movie is a luxury. It’s a gift. But don’t get it twisted, it’s just a movie.”
Denzel’s comments might have been a response to Tom Cruise, who had been somewhat misIeadingly quoted in 2013 as saying that filming a movie was brutal like a tour of duty in Afghanistan. The Hollywood Reporter was involved in that story too, reporting: Don’t underestimate the work that Cruise does. As far as he’s concerned, acting is Iike competing in the Olympics, and sometimes like fighting in Afghanistan.
My Cousin Brags about Her ‘Achievements’ Despite Owing Me $5,000 – I Thought About Taking Action, but Karma Took Care of It for Me
When my cousin crashed our rental car, leaving me with a $5,000 bill, I spent months trying to get her to pay me back. Just as I gave up, I saw her flaunting her ‘success’ on social media and discovered I wasn’t the only one she owed. Karma caught up to her, and I got a front-row seat!
It’s been a year since that disastrous West Coast holiday, and I still feel the sting of that $5,000 debt. My cousin Debra, who’s supposed to be an accountant, racked up a huge damage charge on our rental car and then had the audacity to act like it wasn’t her problem.
It was under my name, so guess who got stuck with the bill? That’s right, me. Lisa, the ever-reliable project manager from Boston. I swear, some days I think my middle name should be “Doormat.”
I remember that holiday like it was yesterday. Seven of us cousins decided to get together for some “family bonding” out on the West Coast.
Debra was there, of course, with her charismatic charm and reckless attitude. One evening, she decided it would be a fantastic idea to drive the rental car down a narrow, winding coastal road at night.
The air was crisp, the moonlight casting eerie shadows as she sped along the road, ignoring my pleas to slow down.
“Come on, Lisa, live a little!” Debra laughed, her voice filled with reckless glee.
She cranked up the music and took another swig from her bottle. I clutched the seat, my knuckles white.
“Debra, please, you’re going too fast!” I yelled, my heart pounding.
She just laughed harder, taking a sharp turn way too quickly. My heart stopped as the car skidded toward the edge, tires screeching.
I thought we were all going to die that night, but the guardrail saved us. The impact when we slammed into it was jarring, leaving us all stunned and the car a complete wreck.
The holiday mood? Completely ruined.
When the rental company slapped a $5,000 damage charge on the car, Debra just shrugged.
“We’re family,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand. “We should all pitch in.”
The other cousins mumbled vague agreements.
“Maybe we can split it evenly,” suggested Jimmy, the peacemaker of the group.
“Split it? Are you kidding? I wasn’t even in the car,” retorted Martha, crossing her arms.
“I can’t afford that right now,” mumbled Jake, avoiding eye contact.
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