Four years ago, it was clutch neighbors. The kind that would help you in a pinch. It was ode to all the people that have supported Two Dollar Cinema over the years.Last year, it was boobs. Because, well, boobs. Boobs never need a boobs, erp, reason.
This year, for the third (and final?) installment of The Mt. Rushmore of Movies, I've decided to go with something you would simply never expect from a highbrow site like mine. Something you'd never expect to find carved into the granite walls of a majestic mountain in South Dakota. Welcome (former?) friends, to, you guessed it, The Mt. Rushmore of Dicks.
*spits out drink* Excuse me?
