If you see Bigfoot, shoot him.

Despite that awesome footage of him traipsing through the woods and sternly looking back over his shoulder, I unequivocally do not believe in Bigfoot.

I've seen some pretty rad documentaries about ol' Sasquatch in my day, which while utterly hysterical (I wish I could track down a certain one that made me almost piss in my pants), didn't necessarily convince me there's a giant man-thing pantslessly skulking about North America.

Nope. Sorry.
No f--king chance he's real.

See, while there is basically zero legit proof that Bigfoot actually exists, and I'm utterly convinced he doesn't, I'm buying the fact that that hairy f--ker breathes the same air I do infinitely more than than the notion that an actual human being wrote and f--king made something called Pottersville. 

And I watched it. From start to finish.

As unfathomable as all of the above is, take a hairy dump in your hand and multiply that shit by 900, as you try to wrap your mind around the fact that Michael Shannon is the f--king star of Pottersville. 

Michael. Shannon. *deep breath*

Shannon, in a film I'm convinced was co-produced by the Hallmark and SyFy Channels, stars as Maynard, the affable proprietor of the general store in Bumf--k, New Hampshire Pottersville, NY. Naturally, the darn mill has closed and the town is struggling through another chilly holiday season. Aww. And on a whim, Maynard closes shop a bit early, only to head home to find his wife having an affair with the local sheriff. Sort of. Anyway, Maynard does what all of us would do, dons a cheaply made Bigfoot costume and saves the f--king town. 

What the f--k are you talkin' bout, Mr. B?