The psychology behind casino design - Best Things To Do ...

This text was originally posted in Mauerstrassenwetten by u/knutolee. I thought his message was so powerful that I asked him for permission to translate, post (can share chat with Mod if required or check directly with him) and fuck his wife (ok didn’t ask for permission) after and he agreed to all most of this wholeheartedly – like a true Autist. I am trying to catch the message – so don’t expect a word by word translation as you can never catch the greatness of the text in it’s entirety and I got to translate it in a way that even a US degenerate can follow it.
As usual no financial advice, I more or less just copied the text because I liked the text and I like the share. In general I have likely lost more than I won and the stock market is a mystery in itself to me. So make your own due dilligence and don’t trust financial advice of others (the argument for that you can read to a certain extent below).
Autists, Degenerates, Idiocracy of the World – let me get this straight!
In the coming days I don’t wanna see all this whining and bitching on this sub and espescially in the daily GME threads anymore. On every fucking corner of this sub I smell doubt, you read messages the likes of „this is over“, „we missed the squeeze“, „I am going to loose it all“, „entered at 320$ - I am doomed“. What the fuck is wrong with you retards, did you fucking wanker your wifes boyfriend dick all night and lost your mind over the effort to do so? I think I got to get this accross the Buddy Stephens way to get you down to fucking earth and get your attitude right.
1) You come to a sub called wallstreetbets and yolo your hard earned money in $GME
You realize what you are doing here - you true fuck - dont you? This is a community of full blown first class true tits up degenerates which take pleasure in posting losses accumulating into the millions every fucking month and you are putting your money into a BET – yes my dear it is written out in the name of this very fucking sub Wallstreet-B-E-T-S!!! – and follow DD posted by people with names like „SHOW_ME_YOUR_ANAL_TITS“? You realize this is not a fucking Disney ferry „One-Wish-comes-true“ show and we see all day long gain porn and loss porn is something which doesn’t exist in this world? This is a band of true autists which occupied an absolute niche when it comes down to trading (and we even don’t trade stocks normally!). This is the place where one wants to enjoy the sado-masochistic part of the retarded capitalistic system we are living in. Yes we have some (maybe a lot) DD diamonds in this sub which by the way are now impossible to find because you degenerate fucks spam the entire system to the moon but no sane long-term investor would consider to invest into any of these investments – this is about „get rich or die trying!“. This is not investing!
2) Yeah but I saw Reddit in the news and all that stuff about GME and it was going through the roof becasue there is going to be short squeeze and on top of it the hedge funds fucked up, hihihi
If this entire thing was a safe bet why exactly would not the fucking entire world jump on this train? (and even you might get this image from all this „Saudi Arabia calling, China calling, Africa calling posts – but please they invest into BABA, Aramco or I don’t know what’s the hot shit in Lagos stock exchange right now – could be though the next big thing – got to see if I can find a DD on this). So why is this not happening? Because it is a fucking BET – the stock market is a fucking Casino and the major difference between investing and us is that they are always just bet on black or red, while we always go for the magical zero. It is totally unclear whether all of us going to show up at Miami Beach with our Porsche Cayenne or Tesla Model S and hit on the girls (or boys) on the beach! The reasons are layed out to you every fucking day with yet another quality DD that most of us simply dont understand! And yes our chances to already sit on the fucking moon slurping our Pinha Coladas would be certainly higher if everything was going the way we believe the system should be working but even the last person who joined this sub by now should realize – you are potentially fucking with the system itself (by the way something this sub never intentionally wanted and you shouldn’t do if you like the system).
3) Hey but when is the squeeze of the squoze going to happen? 😓
So there is this story going through the media and from Florida to Colorado everybody remotely degenerate is yoloing money into GME. It’s a fucking global movement now (or not – could be also the same 50.000 degenerates cheering up themselves the entire time which would much better fit this place) and according to the DD we just need to have 🙌💎and the shorts a bleeding their panties, their balls feel squozen (and not in a good way) and they are completely in defensive mode. What do you think what people who are responsible for Multi-billion $$$ HF are going to do? How do you think you become a person who is responsible for such an operation? Do you think these guys have served as altar boys or girls in church (no offense if so)? What is wrong with you? Seriously! Do you think if they get some headwind they are going to say: Oh boy – we got defeated and going to realize a multi-fucking-billion-to-the-moon loss? OF COURSE FUCKING NOT! THEY WILL GET EVERY FUCKING BAZOOKA, TANK, ROCKET or INTER-STELLAR DEFENSE SYSTEM IN PLACE TO BRING THIS TO AN END! Influence the market participants (speculation), Short-Laddar attacks (I to this very day haven’t understand the concept or how this works – speculation), demotivational tactics (speculation) and to whomever picks it up – desinformation (well not quite speculation but it could also be that media is just retarded as fuck to get the most simple facts straight). So what would you do with a potential group of 5mn small-size investors – shall we do a collective effort to think about it? Ah fuck it! It is to fucking obvious – you would dry this out through time, divide their interests and drive away their attention. Because let’s be fucking honest – most of you entered this thinking you would hold this wonderful stock for a couple of days (and to be honest in this respect the community how it existed 10 days ago was much more true to itself - no whining just sayin)! Gotcha! Who can tell me who fucked each other two weeks ago in People magazin or on Twitter? Nobody – I even don’t remember shit about this very forum before GME (ok I remember u/variation-separate but that is another story). And all their tactics are completely understandable because there is a fucking huge amount of tendies to be made and they are not that different from us (my fear).
4) That does not give you the fucking right to whine and bitch all the time in the daily threads (and it is not happening already its going to be) and fucking ruin the party
Deal with it – we just got to wait how this thing plays out. That’s it. If we are right – this will play out positively in one or another way (huge tendies or SEC investigating). Let them continue shorting the stock or whatever. If you believe you want to buy more stock – do your DD and do it. When this got picked up a long time ago by people they thought – hmmmm makes sense – I am going to get me one of these tickets to the moon. There was if at all a very little interest to squoze the balls of any HF and it was certainly not the main motivation of this sub. I said it above: Get rich or die tryin! Since last Thursday the whole thing became political and it looks like rules were changed in our disfavour and yeah we can not go back in time but we got to deal with it and the circumstances. [Left out this part as it promotes holding and buying which I don’t want to in the sense that everybody needs to make his own fucking decision but I am going to fucking hold] but WE NEED TO REGAIN OUR POSITIVE SPIRIT which was an essential part of this sub and GME for most part in January (and of course in general before) – no matter how fucked up things looked (individually as there is not such a thing as collective alignment to buy options or stocks on this forum). We will see how the numbers are play out and who provided the adequate picture. In our reality GME is going to the moon and the 🚀 is fueled. Period. We are just prevented from starting because of the windy conditions out there.
So please – no post without 🙌💎🙌💎🙌💎🚀🚀🚀 and if you want to fukn leave the party – leave – but let us continue this party, because we are going to the fkn moon. This is the way and I fkn love GME and if this means I need to hold onto this beauty for another 25 years I am going to do it.
P.S.: One thing dear to my heart - in the past there has been huge donations made by this community to people living with autism. As we use their names every fkn day I would really like to see some of your degenerates not to forget about this cause because we owe them and as much as I like the billboards I’d rather see every $$$ go into charities rather then telling the world about us – I think everybody out there knows by now that we exist and that we have 🙌💎
Edit: Nobody asked for it but 35@231,69 and thanks for the awards which should go to u/knutolee - so you can simply award his original post referenced. More importantly he expressed to me that he is very happy with the translation which is almost as important as the message itself.
Edit 2: Please pay attention to AMA Marc Cuban - https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/lawubt/hey_everyone_its_mark_cuban_jumping_on_to_do_an/ - there is I think some quite enlighting answers in a very easy to understand language.
Edit 3: Bought 5@103
Edit 4: Heading for dinner. Crazy times. Will check later and decide whether to buy more tickets or not. But maybe good advice for some others to make a break. Chillax :)
Edit 5: Read that RH has opened up GME again. For whatever it's worth 🚀
Edit 6: Thanks again for all the Awards and stuff. I can only reload in the morning. Was fun and maybe I am going to translate more in the future - if mods would consider to give me a copy cat 😺 flair it would be the icing on the cake.
Edit 7: Obligatory salute to the one and only DFV and his 💎 balls. This guy will go all the way to the 🚀 with us.

Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

My players are going to be visiting the palace of a demon lord of pleasure who's more CN than CE. I want to show that despite his title, he represents all forms of pleasure and good feelings, not just sex. Also space in his realm doesn't work the same way as it does in the mortal plane. He essentially has an infinite amount of space to work with and can customize it as he pleases, so there are no size constraints.

1. A casino to feel the thrill of gambling.
2. A dining hall with an endless buffet that visitors are allowed to eat as much as they wish.
3. An idyllic beach with perfectly white sand to relax or play on.
4. An arena where gladiators brawl it out against each other. The point of it isn't to kill each other as much as make the battles look stunning to the audience.
5. A hotel with the most comfortable beds possible. Here anyone with enough money can enjoy a good rest after all the excitement.
6. A beautiful and well tended garden filled with aromatic flowers and sweet fruits.
7. A vineyard where exquisitely-aged wine can be produced just by pressing the grapes. (u/_SovietMudkip_)
8. A petting zoo full of the babies of dangerous creatures. (u/_SovietMudkip_)
9. An opulent concert hall where the best musicians of the realms perform (u/_SovietMudkip_)
10. A small, cozy looking wooden library, with a cushioned bay window where rain gently scatters against the glass and a cup of some hot liquid gently rising with steam. (u/QuietOracle)
11. An owl-bear hugging zoo. Go to sleep in the embrace of their soft down. (u/QuietOracle)
12. The room of sensory experiences. The room itself is fairly plain, with the main feature being long tables running the length of the room. On closer inspection there are fist-sized carved holes, each one holding a small round crystal... (u/QuietOracle)
13. A room with dozens of sacks filled with beans, lentils and grains where visitors can put their hands in and let the contents run through their fingers. (u/_WhiteCubeCat_)
14. A hag (or any other long nailed creature) giving visitors a scalp massage. (u/_WhiteCubeCat_)
15. A museum of little-known or long-forgotten art pieces, sculptures, and history. (u/MoonlightMancer)
16. A festival full of colors, music, and drinks. Everyone seems to love you, and you can’t stop laughing. (u/MoonlightMancer)
17. A hallway of endless doors. In each room is someone you know, complimenting you endlessly, sharing every positive, even begrudgingly jealous thought they ever had about you. (u/MoonlightMancer)
18. A room full of bubble wrap. (u/EmmaDrake)
19. A hot spring/spa, with fluffy towels, those showers that are like rain with perfect water pressure, mud baths, and refreshing food and drink. (u/lionesslindsey)
20. A room full of people that constantly give you validation and laugh at all your jokes. (u/CountryJeff)
21. Never-ending line of gold chalices, crystal vases, silver artwork, and other valuables. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
22. People who are “better” than you are marched in a stripped of their superior qualities. Beautiful people are disfigured and turned ugly. Wealthy powerful people are ruined and made to beg you for pennies. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
23. Mass groups of people enter the room and tell you how they admire you and how wonderful you are. They stroke your ego and inflate your pride. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
24. Servants do everything for you. Feed you, give you drinks, wash you, wipe your arse, etc. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
25. You are given a wickedly barbed leather whip. A slave creature is bound to a post and you can whip this creature to inflict your wrath upon them as much as you desire. If the poor soul dies, another is brought in to replace them. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
26. 'Knight for a day'. The full experience; lance, shiny outfit, a squire, a trusty stead, a dragon and a princess/prince to rescue. (u/mr_earthman)
27. The magical equivalent of a holo deck (u/cyber-viper)
28. Wide, flat plain with the fastest vehicles in the multiverse (a good place to use the Avernus vehicles) (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
29. A selection of cities and villages for you to destroy with war machines or your own magic. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
30. A collection of wand that allow you to test out powerful magic. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
31. A magical version of a movie theatre, allowing you to watch all manner of stories, true and legendary. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
32. A moderately large pool where small battleships with tiny animated crewmen can be deployed in teams to shell and board each other for the audience's amusement. Honored guests can put their strategic abilities to a test against other players by directly giving orders to their ships, and in certain hours guests may even swim in the pool to live out the power fantasy of being a sea monster. (u/VIixIXine)
33. A colorizer-device that transforms any clothes/armoweapons/other gear to any desired hue you wish (as long as it doesn’t affect the workings of the gear) (u/PaigeOrion)
34. A grand screen, showing a nearly infinite number of (screen)plays from all space and time, including the show with the disgraced human paladin delivering a green baby gnome back to his home land through incredible odds. (u/PaigeOrion)
35. A tiara that allows you to experience the sensory experience of a black cat as long as you wear it and close your eyes. (u/PaigeOrion)
36. A plethora of small, multicolored blocks that will magically interlock with one another to render almost any architectural structure imaginable. (But don’t step on them barefoot!) (u/PaigeOrion)
37. A band of musicians who are the perfect musical backup for any performances. Alone, they are more low key, but no less skilled, playing haunting melodies of unknown origin. (u/PaigeOrion)
38. A massive walk-in closet where you can try in any clothes in any fashion you like. (u/Tezla44)
39. A "schadenfreude" theatre, with shows that rely on slapstick and cringe comedy. (u/Martinus_XIV)
40. A REALLY good chocolate fountain (u/BrokenBanette)
41. A room designed to give you closure. When you enter this room, someone you loved and lost is there, sitting in a couch. The room feels vaguely familiar, but you can't place why. If Detect Magic is used, the room is full of magic (divination, transmutation, illusion) but the person seems like a normal person. You can chat with them for as long as you like. They behave just as you remember them, with the good and the bad. (u/ohsurenerd)
42. A theatre performing the most magnificent tragedies. When you watch the performance, you find yourself completely enraptured: you cheer when things go right, scream when something terrifying happens, and moan and weep at the inevitable horrible ending. When you leave, it feels like removing a backpack full of lead that you'd been carrying for so long you'd forgotten it was there. (u/ohsurenerd)
43. A room where there's a button, there's someone outside and it explains that if you enter there's a 50/50 chance of you dying or not, the room won't actually kill you and it's there just to make you feel the pleasure of near death experience. (u/SupremeGodDictator)
44. A massage parlor with the universes best staff pampering your every need as you receive the most relaxing massage of your life whether it be scalp, back, foot, full body, etc. Has the worlds fluffiest towels and robes to luxuriate in while you wait or if you simply want to sit in a comfy chair and enjoy your ache free muscles. (u/Blue_Mando)
45. An arena where you and your opponents heal near instantly, and you can fight endlessly (u/ellen-the-educator)
46. A reenactment of your greatest failures in life, but this time they turn into your greatest achievements. (u/CountryJeff)
47. A room with the world's finest works of art.... and a myriad of implements you can use to destroy them. (u/redrosebeetle)
48. A torture chamber with mages on hand to create illusions of the people you wish to torture. Or increasingly realistic versions of them, depending on the level of magic you wish to implement. (u/redrosebeetle)
49. A room full of gold and jewels you can roll around in, ala Scrooge McDuck. But woe betide anyone who tries to take a souvenir.... (u/redrosebeetle)
50. As you're walking through the gardens, a person comes up to you. They introduce themselves as an adventurer who's also here on a quest. They seem to be the same class as you, and they're incredibly attractive-- almost exactly your type. You immediately click and end up spending the day together, talking about everything and anything. You tell them things you've never told anyone else before. They understand everything you tell them, almost innately, but they're still impressed by your feats and your stories. The two of you find an empty bedroom and close the door behind you. It's perfect in its imperfections. In the morning they're gone. No matter where you look, you can't find them. (u/ohsurenerd)
51. A room lined with shelves and shelves of bottles and vials containing a crimson liquid flowing slowly (like a syrup), all with small labels on them. As you inspect the labels, you realize they've all got names on them: famous adventurers, kings and queens, great sages. If you drink one, you experience a selection of their memories as they experienced them: battles won, discoveries made, historical alliances and friendships being forged or broken... (u/ohsurenerd)
52. A room that turns anyone that enters it into a child. It is full of every toy imaginable (u/arual_x)
53. A tour of a chocolate factory. Kobolds work there, and the owner, who gives the tour, is a Metallic Dragon in Humanoid form. (u/arual_x)
54. A fortune teller who has a Deck of Many Things with only the good cards. If you in any way offend them, they will sleight of hand vs perception check slip you a bad card instead. (u/arual_x)
55. An island theme park of reanimated dinosaurs. The owner is a level 20 Necromancer called Hamm Johnand. (u/arual_x)
56. A Virtual Reality style game that allows you to battle horrible monsters over and over again without risk of injury physical. But still allows you to gain XP... (u/arual_x)
57. A perfect expanse of thick snowy ground. There is constantly a snowball fight going on. (u/arual_x)
58. A giant room full of mattresses where everyone immediately gets a wonderful massage. (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
59. A room where you get to torture all of your worst enemies (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
60. A room where people applaud you, give you a trophy, etc (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
61. A room where you get something that was denied to you (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
62. A room full of gold and exquisite things, from beautiful furniture to magic weapons (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
63. A seemingly endless room where adventurers can drink a potion to grow wings and flit about to their hearts' delight (u/iriedashur)
64. An ordinary classroom containing the adventurer's childhood friends, enemies, and their most hated teacher. Upon entering the room, the adventurer discovers that they are invisible, and free to pull pranks as they wish (u/iriedashur)
65. A brightly colored room piled high with wrapped gifts, large and small, for the adventurers to open endlessly (u/iriedashur)
66. A purple and black dragon named Ace who cooks you garlic bread and cake. (u/sanorace)
67. A magic pair of goggles/glasses that simulate any “What if” question you pose to them. (u/lewiscann)
68. A magical weather room where you can ask for any weather for your pleasure (I love listening to rain) (u/lewiscann)
69. A room full of lounges with a floating slow burning piece of wood that warms the whole area, the piece of wood is so large you can see the flame spread through this piece of wood forever (u/lewiscann)
70. A room where you can bite your fingernails and they grow back instantly ( so you can bite them some more )(u/razenastie)
71. A room with incredibly weakened versions of powerful monsters. (u/Your_InsideMan)
72. A vast room on wooden sculptures, oil, and torches. (u/Your_InsideMan)
73. A zoo of sentient races (u/Paralytica)
74. A collection of legendary heroes magically transfixed in blocks of ice. (u/Paralytica)
75. Palanquin rentals (u/Paralytica)
76. A booth that will remake your face whilst in the palace (ostensibly to make you more beautiful but it could be used for anything) (u/Paralytica)
77. A magic chair that gives really good back massages (u/TenNinetythree)
78. A playground where the slides and carousels are for adults (u/TenNinetythree)
79. A room where you become a giant and can destroy cities and fortresses kaiju style. (u/Paralytica)
80. Drug Olympics. A room with every drug imaginable to try. Leaving the room cleanses you of their effects. (u/Skitsafrit)
81. No Pauses. A room that has the effect of making all conversations flow perfectly. No silence stretches too long, no one mishears you, and every topic segways perfectly into the next. (u/Skitsafrit)
82. Deprivation Room. The room is so absolutely featureless and quiet, that you can meditate magnitudes better here than anywhere else. (u/Skitsafrit)
83. A games room where you play against your perfect match (u/Nesurame)
84. Similar to the previous, a games room where you're matched against nothing but weaker opponents (u/Nesurame)
85. A smoky, dreamweed hookah lounge (u/reallyenjoyscarbs)
86. A heist simulator where you always get away with the big diamond, chest, etc (thrill of theft) (u/reallyenjoyscarbs)
87. A sauna room with a central pillar. Inside the pillar is a chamber containing a magic stone which can detect the exact temperature preferences of those inside, and making each person feel said preference. (u/TgagHammerstrike)
88. An oval-shaped room with countless glass lotion bottles, with each smelling better than the last. If you look for a specific scent (no matter how rare), you'll certainly find it with the help of a goblin near the back of the room. (u/TgagHammerstrike)
89. A room that consists of A bunch of mortals so utterly jaded from years of plesure seeking that they need the hardest of drugs and the wildest of sensations to feel anything,with lesser demons feeding on their pursuit of euphoria. Think the emperors children from warhammer 40k. (u/TgagHammerstrike)
90. A buffet of the lids of yogurt/pudding cups to lick. (u/Hunter37594)
91. An olfactory room that reads your memories and replicates smells that remind you of your most joyous moments. (u/lecorbusianus)
92. A wildlife reserve for Druids to find new and exotic wild shapes. (u/lecorbusianus)
93. A room with musical instruments that you're able to master immediately. (u/lecorbusianus)
94. Zero gravity obstacle course. (u/lecorbusianus)
95. A cooking class taught by a master chef that always seems to have enough time to guide you one-on-one. (u/lecorbusianus)
96. An enchanter who allows you to relieve the best moments of your life over and over again. (u/lecorbusianus)
97. An illusionary room that brings up past experiences and let’s you make different choices to fix mistakes or win arguments. (u/The_Rhibo)
98. A murder simulator to allow an individual to live out the fantasy of killing that special someone. (u/Brann_The_Kid)
99. A library full of blackmail and secret knowledge regarding historical and political figures. A conniving, plotting character’s dream! (u/MoonlightMancer)
100. A room where you can see colors that shouldn't exist. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
101. A room with a creature in a dark robe sitting at a table covered in maps and dice. He helps you play a strange game where you and your party make up characters that go on adventures while the robed creature acts as all of the other characters and determines new events. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
102. ...

Ok, so, I was recently rereading The Crying of Lot 49 last night, specifically Chapter 3, and I do feel I have a strange hypothesis about sections of that chapter that may be a complete projection, but the more that I look into the content of the sections I will parse out in particular, and the more research that I do, the more evidence seems to fall in place that sort of freaks me out and confirms my theory. Being freaks yourselves, I thought this would be the place for me to project my world, so to speak, and see if what I’m seeing is in any way based in reality or if I’m instead way off base.
My hypothesis is that Chapter 3 of The Crying of Lot 49, and specifically the Lake Inverity/Bone charcoal/Tony JaguaFangoso Lagoon section might be subtextually about Disneyland. I have struggled to find much about these particular sections of this chapter related to Disney. I own J. Kerry Grant’s A Companion to Lot 49, have scoured the Pynchon Wiki, read the reddit post discussion for Chapter 3 of this book, and tried Googling as much about it as I could, and I haven’t found anything to suggest Disneyland, so this is either a relatively new idea or one that is inaccurate as hell. Oh, boy!
To begin, I will say, I am fascinated and obsessed with Disneyland and Disney World which is maybe why I found some of the information I found within Lot 49 to begin with. One could say I have a perverse fascination with the 2 theme parks which has led me to all manner of revelations. In the same way that Pynchon, being from what I can tell, a heretical Catholic, has a perverse fascination with the sacred through the filter of the profane, I am somehow deeply attracted to and obsessed with all things Disney even though I think they are essentially a fascist, culturally banal, destructive force. Similar to how I believe Oedipa may have with Disneyland in the novel, I “fell in love with it (41).” What can I say?
The first half of Chapter 3 which I will focus on, involves Oedipa’s continued revelations. She gets her first peek at WASTE, the Tristero, the posthorn, and the Boeing-esque Yoyodyne is introduced. The plot of the novel really starts to thicken, or to put it a different way, the tapestry, the maaswork, really starts to come together, narrative threads criss-crossing every which way in all directions at once. A resource that was helpful for much of my understanding of this chapter and even just in how I read much of Lot 49 in general is Charles Hollander’s article on the novel: “Pynchon, JFK, and the CIA.” I’ll post it below.
https://www.vheissu.net/articles/hollander_49.php
Chapter 3, according to Hollander, is where some of the first hints of JFK’s assasination are placed. According to Hollander, this chapter uses allusion, parody, analogy, and enthymeme to encode its secret message about the JFK assassination. Mike Faloppian’s Peter Pinguid Society’s Dallas chapter certainly suggests this. I mention this, partially, to say that, in a way, I could maybe call what I’m trying to figure out here “Pynchon, Disney, and the CIA,” since in many ways what I’m wrestling with is what I perceive to be many hidden references to Disney's shaddy dealings throughout 40s and 50s Californian history. Disney World, in particular, does have a direct history of involvement with the CIA with regard to how it acquired its real estate holdings, for example, which interestingly enough is what a chunk of this chapter is about when it comes to its references to Inverarity (not Disney World, but real estate holdings in general, Inverarity's more specifically).
The first section of the chapter that gave me some strange vibes regarding Disneyland was the section where Metzger, Oedipa, and the Paranoids go to Fangoso Lagoon, “one of Inverarity’s last big projects (40).” I will quote some of these sections below where these vibes first made themselves known.
“Somewhere beyond the battering, urged sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across the dark beige hills, somehow implicit in an arrogance or bite to the smog the more inland somnolence of San Narciso did lack, lurked the sea, the unimaginable Pacific, the one to which all surfers, beach pads, sewage disposal schemes, tourist incursions, sunned homosexuality, chartered fishing are irrelevant, the hole left by the moon’s tearing-free and monument to her exile; you could not hear or smell this but it was there, something tidel began to reach feelers in past eyes and eardrums, perhaps to arouse fractions of brain current your most gossamer microelectrode is yet too gross for finding (40-41).”
This first quote stood out to me because it reminded me of the printed circuit Oedipa sees in Chapter 2. At the beginning of Chapter 2, Oedpia looks out at the landscape and sees it as deeply controlled, planned, almost machine-like or circuit-like. I don’t think this is a wildly different passage from that one. It, like the previous seciton forces the reader to ask the question: how did America come to be how it is now? This is an important question Lot 49 is always forcing its reader to ask. How did the deep conservatism or fascism creep in? Would the answer not be the subject of this book? Communication systems. What company is in charge of some of the most monopolized forms of our communication systems to this day? Disney, of course! Is this an accident? Was it planned? The malignant, magic forces referenced in Chapter 1 may have made it so, may have “urged [the] sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across the dark beige hills (40).” Surely the Walt Disney Company has done as much as any to reinforce suburban 3-bedroom forms of existence that have had a stranglehold on our cultural existence for so many years, than just about any, right? But this was just where I started to get the first inkling of vibes about Disneyland. To continue with another quote:
“They came in among earth-moving machines, a total absence of trees, the usual hieratic geometry, and eventually, shimmying for the sand roads, down in a helix to a sculpted body of water named Lake Inverarity. Out in it, on a round island of fill among blue wavelets, squatted the social hall, a chunky ogived and verdigrised, Art Nouveau reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino. Oedpia fell in love with it (41).”
This is where my paranoia really got going. Much of the description of the passage above does not sound like a man-made lake or lagoon. Far from it. Lake Inverarity is described as “a round island of fill,” that contains a “social hall,” and as a “Art Nouveau reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino.” That sounds much more like Disneyland than just a man-made lake created by a real-estate developer? Also with Oedpia being a consistent parody of housewives in suburban America, it would make sense that she would fall in love with Lake Inverarity if it is, in fact, Disneyland. Plus, there might be another hint in the name Lake Inverarity itself, since it is the only holding named after Inverarity specifically, just as Disneyland is named after Disney himself. I don’t believe that Inverarity is a direct analogy for Disney specifically, but I do believe he is instead an analogy for any of the unseen hyper-capitalist forces that have come to dominate our culture, Disney clearly being one example.
And just a side note before I continue with some of my evidence. It would make complete sense, this being a novel about Southern California, its real-estate development, and history, that Pynchon would eventually have to get to Disneyland. It is a property in Southern California, that especially between 1955 and 1965 had to have HUGE influence. How could he not incorporate it even if it was only referred to passively or encoded into the references of the text (much in the same way Hollander argues that Pynchon does the same for JFK’s assassination). There is another passage that REALLY got me convinced about my above theory, the section where Manny DiPresso is discussing the bone charcoal “used in the R&D phase of the filter program. Back around the early 50’s.” Here it is:
“Presently the bodies sank and stayed where they were till the early ‘50s, when Tony Jaguar, who’d been a corporal in an Italian outfit attached to the German force at Lago diPieta and knew about what was at the bottom, decided among some colleagues to see what he could salvage. All they managed to come up with was bones. Out of some murky train of reasoning, which may have included the observed fact that American tourists beginning then to be plentiful, would pay good dollars for almost anything; and stories about Forest Lawn and the American cult of the dead; possibly some dim hope that Senator McCarthy, and others of his persuasion, in those days having achieved a certain ascendancy over the rich cretini from across the sea, would somehow refocus attention on the fallen of WWII, especially ones whose corpses had never been found; out of such labyrinth of assumed motives, Tony Jaguar decided he could surely unload his harvest of bones on some American someplace through his contacts in the “family,” known these days as Costa Nostra. He was right. An import-export firm bought the bones, sold them to a fertilizer enterprise, which may have used one or two femurs for laboratory tests but eventually decided to phase entirely into menhaden instead and transferred the remaining several tons to a holding company, which stored them in a warehouse outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana, for maybe a year before Beaconsfield got interest (47).”
When I read “which may have included the observed fact that American tourists beginning then to be plentiful, would pay good dollars for almost anything,” I could not think of anything but Disneyland. In his historiographic metafictions, Pynchon often superimposes historical realities onto present ones in order to make political, social, and religious commentary that would otherwise be inexpressible. An easy example is the fact that Gravity’s Rainbow is a novel about 1960’s America set in Britain during World War II. In the above passage, if Pynchon is superimposing the strange, seemingly random history of “an Italian outfit attached to the German force at Lago diPieta.” and is using this as an analogy, to project a world that speaks to his present day, I don’t know how Pynchon couldn’t be referring to Disneyland. The novel is set in Southern California, the place where Pynchon lived in 1965. Wouldn’t Disneyland, the rise of tourism, how that was changing the landscape of America and hijacking the “family,” its communication systems, propaganda, and culture, wouldn't all that have been on his mind? I have a few more quotes and then a possibly even more major revelation before I feel I can finally feel I’ve made my point.
Later on in the Lagoon, the Paranoids start smoking pot, and the following happens:
“[B]y holding up the glowing roaches of their cigarettes like a flipcard section at a football game, to spell out alternative S’s and O’s, attracted the attention of the Fangoso Lagoons Security Force, a garrison against the night made up of one-time cowboy actors and L.A. motorcycle cops (49).”
I believe this “one-time cowboy actor” reference to be a reference to Ronald Regan, a fixture of southern California and one-time cowboy actor, and yet another thread in the patchwork connections to Disney. On October 24, 1947, Walt Disney and Ronald Regan both testified against communism, naming particular individuals they found nefarious communists within the film industry (another communication industry, one could say) before the House of Un-American Activities Committee. Which got me thinking, with all the mob references in the above section about Lago diPeta and the bones, was Disney ever involved with the mafia or mob, with “Costa Nostra?” I didn’t find much, but I did find something extremely interesting, which also led to one final even more strange realization. Read the link below, it lays out the story of Willie Bioff, a mobster who attempted to but failed to help break up Disney’s Union Strike in the 1940’s.
https://babbittblog.com/2016/10/09/disney-and-the-mob-willie-bioff/
This may seem unrelated to Pynchon’s “parable of power,” but earlier in the chapter when Mike Fillopian is discussing Russia and America, clearly also, yet again using a historical detail as a historiographic metafiction, superimposing a historical reality onto a present one, in this case, that of the cold war, when Fillopian mentions “After the confrontation, appalled at what had to be some military alliance between Russia...and a Union that paid lip service to abolition while it kept its own industrial laborers in a kind of wage-slavery (36),” its fairly clear which side of the picket-isle Pynchon would have been during an animator strike of Disney in the 1940s, or any strike for better treatment, for that matter. In Lot 49, Pynchon has written a "parable of power" about the various ways the circuit board of American life has reinforced the indentured servitude of supposed abolitionists, which in our modern world, could easily be a stand in for the structures of neo-liberalism. And nothing on this earth is more an example of banal neoliberal capitalism than Disneyland, nothing (except for maybe Epcot, of course). This is a lot of information, and I may not have done a very good job of connecting it all or being as explicit as I could have at explaining how specific references hint at Disney throughout the chapter, and this has already become too long, HOWEVER, I have one final piece of information that blows my DAMN MIND that is likely coincidental, but which I still could not believe I found.
Inspired by the book and wanting to find more connections in the tapestry, I started doing research into Disney’s involvement with the FBI and found some public records about his direct involvement with them on the FBI's website. Walt Disney was a SAC (Special Agent in Charge) for the FBI, according to these documents, for a period of time, interestingly enough, in the late 50s. There are literal letters to Disney from J. Edgar Hoover himself to Disney in these documents. I’ll post them below along with a number of other links that discuss Disney’s connection to the FBI, the last one being particularly fascinating in its connections to the novel.
https://vault.fbi.gov/walter-elias-disney/walter-elias-disney-part-01-of-03/view
http://www.schaakstukkenmuseum.nl/?p=2195&lang=en
http://jfk.hood.edu/Collection/Weisberg%20Subject%20Index%20Files/F%20Disk/FBI/FBI%20Press%20Use%20Of/Item%2009.pdf
https://www.mouseplanet.com/8987/The_Mickey_Mouse_Club_FBIs_Most_Wanted
I very much suggest looking at the Mouse Planet link above. If you have read The Crying of Lot 49 and know who Baby Igor and Metzger is, I VERY MUCH SUGGEST IT. Upon reading this and looking at all the other material, I discovered that there was a child-star, mentioned specifically in these documents, that was to be the child used in a set of documentaries Disney was to make as propaganda films for the FBI specifically, promoting them to the public in 1958. This child’s name was Dirk Metzger. I shit you not. His name was METZGER and he was a child star whose father was in the military. READ THE ARTICLE. His daddy, his doggy, and HIM! And guess what, look at what his profession became after being a child actor in these films? Guess it was: he became a lawyer!!! Baby Igor himself! In the flesh!? Look at the article. It’s all there. I can’t fucking believe it!? Now, I admit, this is all probably just a coincidence. Being 14 in 1958 would put Metzger at being only 21 or so in 1965 when the Crying of Lot 49 came out, so it is unlikely that this is exactly what I think it is, a direct, real, historical correlation, but who knows? Pynchon lived in California at the time. Who knows whom or what he may have come across...
Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe Disneyland is nowhere to be found in the California of The Crying of Lot 49. Maybe this is all, as Hilarius would say, a Rorsoch blot. Maybe I’m simply hallucinating. I will say though, either way, I do think the political exigence of The Crying of Lot 49 has done its work on me. Even if this is only an ink blot, a world I’m projecting rather than one that is actually there, I have certainly done more thinking about Disney, its union-busting, suburban-infused. McCarthy-ian underbelly than I have, maybe ever, and that power, and Pynchon's parable of power he wrote in reaction to it, is something that is very much alive and with us today, it is a power that is still creating indentured servitude and whose malignant, “formless magic” is igniting all around us. Hopefully I, like Oedpia, have gotten a little closer to understanding how it works and counting its line of force. Maybe,
“If the tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance no proof against its magic, what else?”

Ramtidings, dear friends! It is I, your dutiful lord and master, the eternal GM. My sabbatical proved most fruitful, having figured out some depth mechanics for 3 dimensional combat in my pet project, Blood & Thunder, a maritime piracy RPG that has been both a joy and a nerve-wracking nightmare to create. If you want to see what's going on with that, you can swing by patreon.com/BlackFlagPrintingPress to take a look or support my endeavors. But I digress, because I did not come here today to talk about Blood & Thunder, no. I came here with something else in mind, good friends, for while I have been writing my bread and butter, you have gone without your beard and butter, and this is unacceptable! And so, I have trawled the depths of my memory to bring you yet another TAAAAAALE FROM THE TABLETOP, lovingly subtitled A Prologue Into Poverty.
Life is not an easy thing. There was a time when life was very difficult for me. I had far less than most, and I went without frequently, my entire life loaded into a backpack of bare necessities. Joys were few and times were hard, but I made the best of it. I traveled the countryside, mostly alone, making friends where I could amongst the other forgotten souls who haunt the streets of the United States. I met a good number of people, many of them listless drifters in their own right, who became fast friends. We would hang out for a time, but like all drifters, we would eventually part ways, called to different places to do different things. I had just come from North Carolina. I had been in Asheville, playing bluegrass to make money with friends who eventually proved dishonest, and so I parted ways with them. While in Asheville, I had met a girl, also on the road like myself, and I developed a massive crush on her. Fortune would have it that our time together was short lived, as she disappeared on a freighter down the train tracks, and I layed curled up in a bush sick as a dog for the next 3 days.
You can't get a ride from a freighter with 8 people without getting pulled off by johnny law. Our group had fractured, and myself and one other soul continued on our own, until we parted ways in Atlanta. Now, on my own, clueless and green, I wandered aimlessly, until a friend of mine at the time reached out to me by way of the internet. He had work for me, back in California, if I could just make it there. What's 3000 miles? I've got this. I walked out of Atlanta, hitched a series of rides to Arkansas, and then caught a freighter myself, all the way back to the west coast while UP did the driving. I laid on the back of that train for 3 days until I finally ran out of water and decided to get off. I was in Los Angeles. After a bit of panhandling, I got a bus into the central valley, and my friend came and scooped me up. I worked on my friends farm for a bit, building green houses and stacking money until the time came for me to once again depart. During that time, my crush from North Carolina had found me on Facebook. We got to talking.
She told me she had gone back home to Wisconsin and was working in some greasy spoon trying to save up money to afford a bus. She'd been back for awhile now, but wasn't making any headway. Her vices were getting the best of her, and she couldn't seem to get ahead. I told her she needed to knock that shit off and clean up her act. After a long enough time talking, however, things started to get flirty and dirty.
I wanted to see her, and it's actually amazing what a guy will do for love. You're how far away? Piece of cake. Hold my beer. With the work season coming to a close, I took my pay and my leave of my old friend, and he dropped me off in Modesto at the Greyhound. On the way out, he loaded me up with gifts for my travels - a new backpack, socks, a sleeping bag, some snacks for the ride... and naturally, he gave me a gift that I always treasure. He gave me a set of RPG dice. I gave my boy a hug, wished him well in his endeavors, and promised I'd be back in the fall to help him with the harvest and gathering firewood. So I went on my merry way.
I absolutely despise Greyhounds. Have you ever been on one? It's miserable. There's no room to stretch out unless you sit in the back, right by the toilet. Some asshole is always blaring garbage mumble rap on his phone all day long. It doesn't matter who you are - at the end of the trip you exude the pungent aroma of a neckbeard. This didn't bother me too much - personal hygiene suffers when you have no way to bathe regularly, so I was used to being dirty, and my friends from the road were usually very dirty people in their own right at the time, so I could handle a certain degree of grossness... within limits. I did shower at my friend's farm before I boarded that bus, though, and was feeling rather spiffy - clean body, clean clothes. Life was good and I was on my way to see my woman.
I did my best to zone out. I tried to sleep as much as I could and ignore the general atmosphere of the bus, but that was no longer an option after a layover in Las Vegas. We boarded the bus once more after an almost 24 hour delay on our schedules, and finally got moving again. I sat in the back near the toilet, as I was no stranger to this game and wanted that bench seat, and foul smells at the time didn't bother me much... or so I thought. With the bus filling up and the seats reducing to slim pickings, it dawned on me that my coveted back seat bench was going to get shared. Then, I saw him... the Busbeard.
I'm usually a pretty nice person, but I did not want my coveted backseat benchseat getting taken up, let alone by this massive lardass that now lumbered towards me. I did everything in my power to seem as big and hostile as I could. This was all in vain, however, as some people cannot read social cues. I stared at him, dripping hostility, mentally repeating sit somewhere else like it was a Zen mantra. However, nobody wanted him to sit by them either, and so, he made his way, closer and closer, as he asked people if seats were taken until he got to me at the back. He shifted to sit into the seat, angling his ass in the general direction of my face. The smell of soggy feces-laden underwear wafted up as he slid his bulk onto the bench.
Did I mention that personal hygiene suffers on a greyhound bus ride, especially when you've been riding for days? I've taken my fair share of Greyhounds, and it's unlikely that this new arrival had been riding for awhile. He was eastbound, like the rest of us, and we were in Las Vegas. His point of origin was... not very far east. I had only been on the bus for approximately a day so far, minus the extended layover time of course, so I was getting a ittle sweaty myself, but this guy smelled as if he not only lived on this bus, but was born in the blue poop goop of the latrine. It was a question worthy of debate as to whether this man had actually employed the use of a speed stick in his life. His patchy jowels jiggled at me as he said, hi.
I responded with a gruff and monotone hello, and then turned my attentions to the window, watching the bus depot workers loading up suitcases beneath. My fate was sealed. This man was to be my travel companion all the way to Denver. I decided then that maybe it would be best to ignore him. I plugged in my phone, booted up an emulator I had downloaded, and started to play some Pokemon to whittle away the hours. It didn't take long, however, before I could feel his olfactory looming become physical looming as he examined the screen upon which I played from over my shoulder.
Busbeard: Pokemon? I fucking love Pokemon! I didn't know you could play it on a phone. How are you doing that?
His heavy respirations were like an infusion of green spearmint and halitosis.
GM: Emulators.
I went back to my game, trying to angle myself away from him in such a way that he couldn't lean over my shoulder and watch me as I trained my team, but I was effectively sandwiched between him and the wall, forced to sit straight as he leaned over and watched me play. I debated then, what I ought to do. Playing Pokemon would make the time fly, but I would be crushed between the window and a sweaty fat man. Not playing Pokemon would save me the physical agony of being squished, but I would be painfully bored for seemingly endless miles, and he may use it as an opportunity to interact further. A decision needed to be made.
I shut the emulator off and put away my phone, turning my attention back out the window as the bus pulled out of the Las Vegas terminal and began down the freeway. It was not long after we had pulled out of the station, however, when that wheezing, rasping voice chirped up again.
Busbeard: So where are you going?
I ignored him, focusing on the casinos towering in the distance of the skyline, pretending as if I hadn't heard the question, or as if it weren't addressed at me. With insistance, he repeated his question at my turned back again, searching for a response within my stony exterior. I mumbled, the Midwest, and he questioningly grunted, and asked me to repeat myself. I guess we're doing this.
GM: I'm going to the Midwest.
Busbeard: Where in the Midwest?
GM: Wisconsin.
Busbeard: I've never been to Wisconsin before, but I know they got really good cheese! Hyuk hyuk... Is that why you're going there?
Judging by his smell, he must have been an excessively avid connosieur of fine Wisconsinite cheese. However, cheese was the last thing on my mind at the time.I was enamored with my lady love.
GM: I'm going to see an old friend.
Busbeard: Oh, that's cool... who is it?
The odds of this man knowing the person who I was on my way to visit were astronomically low. Your odds of getting struck by lightning, winning the lottery, and becoming president in the same day were probably higher than this cretin knowing the one specific person whom I was going to go visit in some backwater Wisconsin town. Still, I humored him, and in the same flat voice, answered his question, and told him I was on my way to see my sweetheart.
This caught Busbeard's attention. For a grown man in his mid 30s, he let out a loud "oooooooo" like a middle schooler would when he finds out his friend has a crush. I contemplated execution methods and the subjective severity of their barbarism as he excitedly asked me where she was from.
GM: Wisconsin.
Busbeard: Yeah... but, where in Wiconsin?
GM: Fuck off, dude. I'm not going to tell you the town where she lives.
Busbeard: Heh! I'd be terrified of telling a superior male like me where my girlfriend lives, too. A little kid like you wouldn't stand a chance next to a man like me. Her panties would hit the floor from one whiff of my pheromones. It happens all the time, bro, I swear. I could have any woman on this bus. They just can't resist me. They can sense my manhood, I know it.
I shouldn't stir the pot. All common sense tells me that I should just stop myself while I'm ahead, but sometimes... sometimes I just can't help myself. I've always been a pretty reserved and self-contained person for the most part, and I just want to be left alone 90% of the time to do my thing. Apparently, that's a lot to ask, because every now and then, somebody comes and invades my personal space with their protruding belly, bad breath, and self-aggrandizement, and then I find it really hard to resist my inclination to fuck with them. I know, I know, it's wrong of me to do that, but I'm human, damnit, and something good was cooking in the kitchen. What's the harm in dipping a spoon into this self-important concoction of body odor and bravado?
GM: Any woman, huh? Tell ya what, Busbeard, I just got paid, and you seem really confident in the power of your, ahhhhh, pheromones, so... how about a wager.
I laid out the terms of my devil's bargain. With a wager of 100 dollars, I would pick a lady on the bus at the next break. Busbeard would then have to seduce her. He MUST "present" his pheromones to her, naturally. If he recovered her phone number, or anything in excess thereof, like a kiss or a consensual toilet stall consummation, it would suffice to meet my criteria and loose my grasp from the freshly printed Franklin in my wallet. He agreed enthusiastically to my terms, insisting I was going to loose and he was going to get his dick sucked in a Greyhound portajohn "blumpkin style".
We rode along in silence for the next hour or so. The sun was high in the sky when we made our next stop at some gas station in Utah, and everyone filed off the bus to stretch their legs and get their snacks. I wandered around, huffing down my smoke, chatting it up with people and making friends, seeing just who they were, asking them questions - where they were going, who they were going there with. I got to talking with one guy and his girlfriend.
The guy, who we will call Sarge, was built like a brick shithouse and was a former infantry man who served 2 tours of duty in the middle east. He was traveling with his wife, a young and pretty little thing who we will call Alexandra. They were on their way back to the east coast to stay with family. Alexandra's mom was getting old and had asked them to move in to help take care of her. They were on their way out there to steward her aging mother's estate. I remarked that that was awfully kind of them, and sincerely wished them the best on taking care of Alexandra's aging mom. I told them a little bit about myself, as well... that I was effectively living on the road, playing life by ear, and on the way to see a loved one of mine for a bit before the wind blew me somewhere else.
Eventually, the bus driver gave everyone a 5 minute warning before departure, and we all filed on board. I moved back to my seat and waited for Busbeard to arrive. He came back, cradling piles of gas station sandwiches, bags of chips, and a couple of sodas in his massive paws. He sat down beside me with a loud "oof" and offered me a drink, saying that it's the least he could do before he took my money. I took that beverage. It was both cold and delicious.
GM: Well, Busbeard, I've done my rounds, and I've come to a decision.
Busbeard: Who is it? She better be hot. I swear to God, if you make me waste my time on some dried up roastie, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed at you dude.
GM: Why would I do that dude? Naturally, I only want the best for you. No, she's very pretty. You see that girl over there, in the aisle seat? That's the one. Make your move whenever you're ready.
I pointed out Alexandra to him. I already knew this was going to end very poorly. There was no way in Hell that Alexandra would express any interest in this disgusting lardass whatsoever when she had a stable and solid man like Sarge, and Sarge wasn't about to take guff from anyone. Add on to it that Sarge was easily the size of, if not bigger than, the prodigious Busbeard himself. Sarge was also trained to kill and hardened by years of combat in the graveyard of empires. I can fight - I've fought a lot - and I would not want to square up against him under any circumstances. Busbeard was going to get the snot beat out of him and pay me 100 dollars for that privilege.
The bus took off and I listened to the disgusting sounds of Busbeard inhaling the equivalent of 5 pounds of gas station food. I was only halfway through my soda, when Busbeard emitted a satisfied belch that rumbled the seats, and the feeding frenzy had ended in an effervesence of curdling bile and preservatives just as fast as it had begun. He then started to pump himself up for the task at hand. He started to sweat with excitement and latent cardiac arrest as he prepared his pheromonal aura about himself, and then with a gruff, alright, let's do this, he stood up from his seat and waddled down the aisle, his greasy belly bumping into everybody who had chosen an aisle seat.
He approached Alexandra. They were near the front end of the bus, and so I couldn't hear a word that they were saying. I watched Busbeard as he extended an arm and held on to the overhead luggage rack, exposing the damp miasma of corn-syrup infused armpit sweat to his unsuspecting victim. His pheromones were beginning to work their magic over the unsuspecting Alexandra who would soon be enraptured by its juicy spell. I waited, leaning forward intently, when a loud shout broke the silence.
Sarge: BACK THE FUCK UP.
Alexandra started to shout, too, yelling "get the fuck away from me!"
The driver turned back and yelled for everyone to sit down and shut the hell up or he would pull the bus over.
Sarge: Please do! I'm gonna beat this fucking lardass into the pavement! Saying shit like that to my wife? Who the fuck do you think you are?
The bus driver repeated his warning, and Busbeard began to shout his protests, insisting upon his innocence.
Busbeard: B-but, I was put up to it! It was that guy, in the back seat! He said---
He pointed back at me. I yelled back, I don't fucking know that guy.
The bus driver meant his threat, and pulled the bus over. We were on a long and empty stretch on the I-15 somewhere in rural Utah. The last town I had seen was about 20 miles back. It was late spring, and it was getting hot outside that afternoon. The bus driver got out of his seat, walked up to Busbeard, and told him to get the Hell off of his bus. Busbeard kept protesting, when Sarge moved past his wife, and started forcing Busbeard towards the front door.
I've heard the threat of getting kicked off maybe a thousand times on a Greyhound, but I had never seen it play out before. Busbeard was thrown off the bus. Sarge did not join him outside and pummel him into the asphalt, regrettably, as I would have loved to have watched it. Busbeard kept pleading with the bus driver as the driver shut the door on him, sealing him out on the shoulder of a lonely stretch of highway. I breathed a sigh of relief, and stretched out my legs. It was another 15 miles before we saw signs of civilization. A part of me felt bad for Busbeard, but the other part of me said, "if I can walk 20 miles in a day with 60 lbs of shit on my back, he can do an unencumbered 15 and be fine."
The ride continued on in sweet, reclined silence for me until we reached Denver, werein there was another changeover, and this bus was much, much more desolate. The rest of the Greyhound voyage passed without incident, and I spent my time flirting with my lady love and training some Pokemons. At long last, I finally arrived in Wisconsin. She came to pick me up at the bus station, and when we approached each other, we made out like long lost lovers for a good 5 minutes before we finally caught our breath enough to say hello. I got in her car, and spent maybe a week or so with her, before it was time to take my leave. I couldn't live there forever, and so, as fast as I had drifted into her life, once again, it was time for me to disappear. We said goodbye, and she dropped me off at a lonely interstate overpass on the edge of town. I put my thumb out to catch a ride to Anywhere But Here USA.
I planned my next move, and I figured that there were some friends of hers and mine that lived not too far away in the Dakotas, and maybe I would pay them a visit next. I was in the neighborhood, and figured that I might as well say hello. I reached out to them online, and then made my way west again. They were excited for me to come see them. It was only a day into the voyage when I received a message from Janet. It said, "wait for me, I'm catching up." She had packed her backpack again, and was coming after me, hot on my tail. I told her we could meet up at our mutual friend's house.
I dialed ahead to our friends, who we shall call Sarah and Queenie. Sarah used to travel together with Janet for many months before she stabilized, and then settled down. Queenie was one of my friends from North Carolina. He was a loveable chucklefuck of a drifter, missing a few teeth, wore a skirt, and spoke in the most haggard voice you could imagine. Still... he insisted on being called Queenie. He had settled down with Sarah after they hooked up, and they were living at Sarah's house. He was on thin ice there, however, and she was threatening to kick him out.
I arrived at Sarah's and Queenie's, and spent the next few days waiting for Janet to come up on my heels. During that time, Queenie and I played a lot of Magic (he had just gotten into it), and I remembered the dice that my friend in California had given me that were laying unusued in my backpack. I asked him if he had ever played tabletop RPG's before, to which he answered no. I told him that, maybe next time I see him and I'm in a better spot, we could run a game. Eventually Janet caught up, and we prepared to leave Sarah's for good towards our own new horizons. Queenie, however, had finally broken through the thin ice upon which he skated, and was getting thrown out. On the day of our departure, we asked him if he wanted to join us in our travels so he wouldn't have to go it alone.
Thus we began from Sarah's house out into the unknown once again, a cheerful trio, and true to my word, I began to teach not only Queenie, but Janet as well, the joys of tabletop RPGs.
As I'm sure you can surmise, dear friends, that this is not the end of our story, but only the beginning of another chapter. Is Busbeard still alive? What does the future hold for Ramtide's love life? How do a gaggle of vagabond drifters play tabetop games without a table? Some of these questions will be answered, my dear friends, in our next installment of TAAAAAALES FROM THE TABLETOP.
A shoutout to my lovely patrons, Tatoferret and Sillibits. You guys are wonderful. Thank you for believing in the dream.

Hey everyone, great to be back again. Some of you might remember a similar title from a post I made back in April, where I made a list of the top 250 movies with 13 sources, or a preview of this list I made last month.
I want to emphasize that this is NOT an official ranking nor my personal ranking; it is just a statistical and, personally, interesting look at 500 amazing movies. These rankings reflect the opinions of thousands of critics and millions of people around the world. And I am glad that this list is able to cover a wide range of genres, decades, and countries. So before I get bombarded with "Why isn't X on here?" or "How is X above Y?" comments, I wanted to clear that up.
I sourced my data from Sight & Sound (both critic and director lists), TSPDT, iCheckMovies, 11 domestic websites (Rotten Tomatoes, Metacritic, IMDb, Letterboxd, TMDb, Trakt, Blu-Ray, MovieLens, RateYourMusic, Criticker, and Critics Choice), and 9 international audience sites (FilmAffinity, Douban, Naver, MUBI, Filmweb, Kinopoisk, CSFD, Moviemeter, and Senscritique). This balance of domestic/international ratings made the list more well-rounded and internationally representative (sites from Spain, China, Korea, Poland, Russia, Czech Republic, Netherlands, and France).
As for my algorithm, I weighted websites according to both their Alexa ranking and their number of votes compared to other sites. For example, since The Godfather has hundreds of thousands of votes on Letterboxd but only a couple thousand on Metacritic, Letterboxd would be weighted more heavily. After obtaining the weighted averages, I then added the movie's iCheckMovies' favs/checks ratio and TSPDT ranking, if applicable. Regarding TSPDT, I included the top 2000 movies; as an example of my calculations, Rear Window's ranking of #41 would add (2000-41)/2000=0.9795 points to its weighted average. I removed movies that had <7-8K votes on IMDb, as these mostly had low ratings and numbers of votes across different sites as well. For both Sight & Sound lists, I added between 0.5 and 1 point to a movie's score based on its ranking, which I thought was an adequate reflection of how difficult it is to be included on these lists. As examples, a #21 movie would have 0.9 points added while a #63 would have 0.69 points.
So without further ado, the statistical top 500 movies ever made. I separated the scores into overall, critics, domestic, and international columns to make comparisons easier. This list on Letterboxd.

Ranking	Title	Overall Score	Critics	Domestic	International	Year	Director
1	The Godfather	93.89	97.73	90.50	89.36	1972	Francis Ford Coppola
2	The Godfather: Part II	91.93	93.30	89.04	88.06	1974	Francis Ford Coppola
3	Seven Samurai	91.05	97.38	87.63	85.90	1954	Akira Kurosawa
4	12 Angry Men	90.45	95.45	88.74	88.62	1957	Sidney Lumet
5	City Lights	89.94	96.75	85.67	85.93	1931	Charlie Chaplin
6	The Good, the Bad and the Ugly	89.45	91.20	87.81	86.59	1966	Sergio Leone
7	The Shawshank Redemption	89.41	82.95	89.49	89.18	1994	Frank Darabont
8	Psycho	89.29	95.23	85.70	85.01	1960	Alfred Hitchcock
9	Modern Times	89.28	95.55	85.21	85.37	1936	Charlie Chaplin
10	Schindler's List	89.08	93.80	87.22	87.29	1993	Steven Spielberg
11	Pulp Fiction	88.85	92.60	87.69	86.42	1994	Quentin Tarantino
12	Rear Window	88.63	97.65	85.40	83.33	1954	Alfred Hitchcock
13	One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest	88.55	87.38	86.28	86.97	1975	Miloš Forman
14	Apocalypse Now	88.54	93.85	85.24	83.48	1979	Francis Ford Coppola
15	Tokyo Story	88.49	98.30	85.16	83.76	1953	Yasujirō Ozu
16	Spirited Away	88.34	93.78	86.80	85.91	2001	Hayao Miyazaki
17	GoodFellas	88.03	91.48	87.00	84.03	1990	Martin Scorsese
18	Vertigo	88.02	95.60	84.05	82.76	1958	Alfred Hitchcock
19	Singin' in the Rain	88.01	97.65	83.95	83.13	1952	Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen
20	Sunset Boulevard	88.00	95.45	85.44	84.22	1950	Billy Wilder
21	Citizen Kane	87.83	99.03	83.06	82.22	1941	Orson Welles
22	Harakiri	87.79	85.83	88.00	86.29	1962	Masaki Kobayashi
23	Rashomon	87.74	96.55	83.52	82.73	1950	Akira Kurosawa
24	Once Upon a Time in the West	87.71	86.65	85.48	84.62	1968	Sergio Leone
25	Fanny and Alexander	87.54	97.30	83.15	83.00	1982	Ingmar Bergman
26	The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King	87.40	92.59	86.06	85.38	2003	Peter Jackson
27	Andrei Rublev	87.39	91.90	83.80	83.94	1966	Andrei Tarkovsky
28	The Passion of Joan of Arc	87.39	94.65	83.88	83.57	1928	Carl Theodor Dreyer
29	Sherlock Jr.	87.36	96.45	83.64	85.60	1924	Buster Keaton
30	Bicycle Thieves	87.35	94.70	83.91	83.46	1948	Vittorio De Sica
31	Casablanca	87.35	98.00	85.25	82.62	1942	Michael Curtiz
32	Some Like It Hot	87.28	95.30	82.11	83.73	1959	Billy Wilder
33	Persona	87.22	88.20	84.28	83.07	1966	Ingmar Bergman
34	Children of Paradise	87.21	95.33	84.81	83.27	1945	Marcel Carné
35	Taxi Driver	87.14	93.88	83.60	82.06	1976	Martin Scorsese
36	The Dark Knight	87.08	88.81	86.96	84.80	2008	Christopher Nolan
37	Metropolis	87.03	96.00	82.92	84.01	1927	Fritz Lang
38	Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans	87.02	93.95	82.23	84.02	1927	F. W. Murnau
39	Stalker	87.02	92.30	83.86	83.29	1979	Andrei Tarkovsky
40	Pather Panchali	86.96	94.35	84.40	82.80	1955	Satyajit Ray
41	Lawrence of Arabia	86.95	97.65	83.76	81.49	1962	David Lean
42	M	86.91	96.20	84.34	82.92	1931	Fritz Lang
43	Ordet	86.82	98.10	83.08	82.55	1955	Carl Theodor Dreyer
44	It's a Wonderful Life	86.77	90.45	85.17	84.90	1946	Frank Capra
45	Satantango	86.76	90.45	84.58	84.21	1994	Béla Tarr
46	Parasite	86.72	96.34	86.55	83.15	2019	Bong Joon-ho
47	The 400 Blows	86.70	96.70	83.14	82.60	1959	François Truffaut
48	Ikiru	86.56	93.80	85.48	84.29	1952	Akira Kurosawa
49	Mirror	86.50	95.60	82.75	82.34	1975	Andrei Tarkovsky
50	Come and See	86.50	90.50	85.22	83.13	1985	Elem Klimov
51	The Apartment	86.48	92.00	84.09	82.99	1960	Billy Wilder
52	The General	86.45	91.45	82.59	83.87	1926	Buster Keaton, Clyde Bruckman
53	Grave of the Fireflies	86.43	95.13	85.85	82.97	1988	Isao Takahata
54	Le Trou	86.41	89.95	85.46	85.14	1960	Jacques Becker
55	The Battle of Algiers	86.37	95.40	82.64	81.24	1966	Gillo Pontecorvo
56	A Man Escaped	86.34	96.50	83.67	82.03	1956	Robert Bresson
57	Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb	86.34	95.85	84.37	83.03	1964	Stanley Kubrick
58	Paths of Glory	86.25	92.30	84.97	84.48	1957	Stanley Kubrick
59	The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring	86.24	88.75	85.61	84.31	2001	Peter Jackson
60	All About Eve	86.23	96.95	83.69	83.20	1950	Joseph L. Mankiewicz
61	Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back	86.21	86.93	87.05	83.29	1980	Irvin Kershner
62	High and Low	86.16	86.55	86.08	84.26	1963	Akira Kurosawa
63	The Great Dictator	86.15	91.10	84.25	85.03	1940	Charlie Chaplin
64	The Silence of the Lambs	86.12	88.68	85.29	84.17	1991	Jonathan Demme
65	2001: A Space Odyssey	86.06	88.35	82.93	81.54	1968	Stanley Kubrick
66	North by Northwest	86.03	96.38	83.17	81.74	1959	Alfred Hitchcock
67	Double Indemnity	85.91	94.38	83.84	83.12	1944	Billy Wilder
68	Ugetsu	85.91	97.25	82.69	81.91	1953	Kenji Mizoguchi
69	Woman in the Dunes	85.91	93.95	84.71	83.77	1964	Hiroshi Teshigahara
70	Sansho the Bailiff	85.88	95.50	84.24	82.21	1954	Kenji Mizoguchi
71	Once Upon a Time in America	85.87	86.10	83.84	85.53	1984	Sergio Leone
72	City of God	85.86	84.08	86.39	84.00	2002	Fernando Meirelles, Kátia Lund
73	Late Spring	85.81	94.75	83.74	82.27	1949	Yasujirō Ozu
74	Barry Lyndon	85.80	87.95	82.44	82.30	1975	Stanley Kubrick
75	The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers	85.78	88.78	85.00	84.29	2002	Peter Jackson
76	Raging Bull	85.77	90.48	82.01	81.80	1980	Martin Scorsese
77	Chinatown	85.72	94.08	83.32	80.69	1974	Roman Polanski
78	Alien	85.69	91.73	84.76	82.62	1979	Ridley Scott
79	Ran	85.68	94.70	83.93	82.52	1985	Akira Kurosawa
80	The Seventh Seal	85.67	92.10	83.52	82.13	1957	Ingmar Bergman
81	The Kid	85.61	92.85	82.91	84.94	1921	Charlie Chaplin
82	Wild Strawberries	85.51	90.05	83.38	82.24	1957	Ingmar Bergman
83	A Brighter Summer Day	85.50	93.38	84.07	81.01	1991	Edward Yang
84	8½	85.48	91.20	82.59	81.09	1963	Federico Fellini
85	The Pianist	85.38	88.69	83.31	84.80	2002	Roman Polanski
86	The World of Apu	85.38	93.20	84.38	83.09	1959	Satyajit Ray
87	La Dolce Vita	85.37	94.38	81.40	80.48	1960	Federico Fellini
88	Star Wars	85.33	90.03	85.22	81.92	1977	George Lucas
89	The Best of Youth	85.31	88.78	85.31	83.64	2003	Marco Tullio Giordana
90	The Gold Rush	85.29	94.55	81.93	83.59	1925	Charlie Chaplin
91	The Third Man	85.26	96.50	82.91	80.21	1949	Carol Reed
92	The Treasure of the Sierra Madre	85.20	96.68	82.77	81.81	1948	John Huston
93	I Am Cuba	85.18	93.60	82.00	83.44	1964	Mikhail Kalatozov
94	The Lives of Others	85.14	89.03	84.12	82.73	2006	Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
95	Witness for the Prosecution	85.13	92.65	83.67	84.99	1957	Billy Wilder
96	Touch of Evil	85.11	95.70	81.36	79.65	1958	Orson Welles
97	WALL-E	85.10	92.09	82.82	82.64	2008	Andrew Stanton
98	Scenes from a Marriage	85.02	86.85	84.80	83.06	1974	Ingmar Bergman
99	To Be or Not to Be	84.99	89.58	82.52	83.39	1942	Ernst Lubitsch
100	A Separation	84.92	94.24	83.34	80.90	2011	Asghar Farhadi
101	The Night of the Hunter	84.91	96.93	81.17	79.06	1955	Charles Laughton
102	Three Colors: Red	84.87	96.78	83.32	80.78	1994	Krzysztof Kieślowski
103	Yojimbo	84.87	91.55	83.85	82.99	1961	Akira Kurosawa
104	Back to the Future	84.85	89.38	84.47	81.94	1985	Robert Zemeckis
105	My Neighbor Totoro	84.84	87.53	83.44	83.17	1988	Hayao Miyazaki
106	In the Mood for Love	84.84	83.87	82.55	81.20	2000	Wong Kar-wai
107	Princess Mononoke	84.83	81.18	85.02	84.24	1999	Hayao Miyazaki
108	Saving Private Ryan	84.82	90.35	83.94	82.50	1998	Steven Spielberg
109	Cinema Paradiso	84.78	82.30	84.73	83.43	1988	Giuseppe Tornatore
110	La Jetée	84.75	89.25	83.27	81.80	1962	Chris Marker
111	The Wages of Fear	84.71	94.60	82.99	82.80	1953	Henri-Georges Clouzot
112	Das Boot	84.68	90.13	83.62	82.71	1981	Wolfgang Petersen
113	Fight Club	84.65	71.18	86.39	84.95	1999	David Fincher
114	Nights of Cabiria	84.64	92.25	82.72	83.13	1957	Federico Fellini
115	La Strada	84.61	92.60	80.79	82.78	1954	Federico Fellini
116	Amadeus	84.53	89.55	82.88	82.59	1984	Miloš Forman
117	Forrest Gump	84.50	76.90	83.06	86.12	1994	Robert Zemeckis
118	Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse	84.49	90.41	85.03	81.69	2018	Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman, Bob Persichetti
119	The Lion King	84.45	88.28	77.22	84.09	1994	Rob Minkoff, Roger Allers
120	Inception	84.43	82.07	84.18	84.17	2010	Christopher Nolan
121	Whiplash	84.42	89.53	84.87	81.96	2014	Damien Chazelle
122	The Shop Around the Corner	84.40	94.43	80.85	82.37	1940	Ernst Lubitsch
123	Rififi	84.38	92.00	83.03	81.58	1955	Jules Dassin
124	Umberto D.	84.38	92.63	82.20	81.75	1952	Vittorio De Sica
125	Army of Shadows	84.37	95.30	82.98	80.50	1969	Jean-Pierre Melville
126	Blade Runner	84.34	85.85	82.57	80.29	1982	Ridley Scott
127	Samurai Rebellion	84.33	89.05	82.85	83.84	1967	Masaki Kobayashi
128	Close-Up	84.31	85.70	81.99	80.69	1990	Abbas Kiarostami
129	The Circus	84.29	90.35	81.69	83.14	1928	Charlie Chaplin
130	Raiders of the Lost Ark	84.19	89.33	84.31	80.57	1981	Steven Spielberg
131	Grand Illusion	84.18	95.35	81.85	79.78	1937	Jean Renoir
132	A Clockwork Orange	84.18	82.78	82.37	82.51	1971	Stanley Kubrick
133	Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind	84.07	89.37	83.36	80.57	2004	Michel Gondry
134	A Woman Under the Influence	84.01	87.40	82.51	80.40	1974	John Cassavetes
135	The Cranes Are Flying	84.00	89.30	82.76	82.40	1957	Mikhail Kalatozov
136	Yi Yi	83.91	91.25	82.48	79.64	2000	Edward Yang
137	To Kill a Mockingbird	83.91	89.13	81.98	82.20	1962	Robert Mulligan
138	The Matrix	83.90	77.78	84.54	83.06	1999	Wachowski Sisters
139	The Sting	83.90	85.73	82.71	83.36	1973	George Roy Hill
140	The Mother and the Whore	83.87	94.55	81.24	79.82	1973	Jean Eustache
141	Se7en	83.86	72.15	84.91	84.48	1995	David Fincher
142	Early Summer	83.85	94.45	82.19	82.01	1951	Yasujirō Ozu
143	Werckmeister Harmonies	83.80	91.73	80.89	81.93	2000	Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky
144	Coco	83.80	86.21	82.73	83.66	2017	Adrian Molina, Lee Unkrich
145	Toy Story	83.76	95.03	82.30	80.15	1995	John Lasseter
146	It Happened One Night	83.76	90.83	81.46	81.76	1934	Frank Capra
147	Reservoir Dogs	83.74	84.68	83.12	81.99	1992	Quentin Tarantino
148	Unforgiven	83.73	88.55	82.24	81.59	1992	Clint Eastwood
149	The Deer Hunter	83.73	87.68	80.57	82.06	1978	Michael Cimino
150	The Young and the Damned	83.72	87.10	82.58	80.82	1950	Luis Buñuel
151	The Best Years of Our Lives	83.68	92.63	81.19	81.20	1946	William Wyler
152	The Leopard	83.66	97.30	79.56	79.57	1963	Luchino Visconti
153	Time of the Gypsies	83.65	86.05	83.31	82.29	1988	Emir Kusturica
154	Ali: Fear Eats the Soul	83.61	96.70	80.51	79.97	1974	Rainer Werner Fassbinder
155	Raise the Red Lantern	83.57	90.25	82.37	81.81	1991	Zhang Yimou
156	Terminator 2: Judgment Day	83.57	82.00	84.11	81.83	1991	James Cameron
157	The Shining	83.55	75.35	84.08	81.80	1980	Stanley Kubrick
158	Viridiana	83.54	92.95	80.68	80.81	1961	Luis Buñuel
159	Portrait of a Lady on Fire	83.52	93.59	83.08	80.02	2019	Céline Sciamma
160	Greed	83.51	97.05	80.65	80.64	1924	Erich von Stroheim
161	Gone with the Wind	83.48	92.90	80.01	81.68	1939	Victor Fleming
162	There Will Be Blood	83.48	89.65	81.91	79.02	2007	Paul Thomas Anderson
163	L.A. Confidential	83.46	91.63	82.08	80.81	1997	Curtis Hanson
164	Paris, Texas	83.46	83.95	82.89	81.66	1984	Wim Wenders
165	Throne of Blood	83.45	91.30	82.18	81.49	1957	Akira Kurosawa
166	Toy Story 3	83.43	93.55	81.61	80.32	2010	Lee Unkrich
167	Memento	83.43	85.20	83.78	80.76	2000	Christopher Nolan
168	On the Waterfront	83.37	93.00	82.23	79.52	1954	Elia Kazan
169	Trip to the Moon	83.37	94.70	79.96	82.83	1902	Georges Méliès
170	The Rules of the Game	83.33	96.55	80.45	78.02	1939	Jean Renoir
171	Red Beard	83.32	74.15	83.41	83.27	1965	Akira Kurosawa
172	The Grapes of Wrath	83.32	95.45	80.42	80.34	1940	John Ford
173	Au Hasard Balthazar	83.29	98.08	77.93	77.54	1966	Robert Bresson
174	Autumn Sonata	83.29	84.85	83.09	82.66	1978	Ingmar Bergman
175	Annie Hall	83.28	93.18	80.58	80.58	1977	Woody Allen
176	The Conformist	83.27	96.68	79.92	78.58	1970	Bernardo Bertolucci
177	Rocco and His Brothers	83.24	84.73	81.95	81.68	1960	Luchino Visconti
178	Dersu Uzala	83.23	74.75	82.35	83.37	1975	Akira Kurosawa
179	Cool Hand Luke	83.21	93.05	82.22	79.83	1967	Stuart Rosenberg
180	Monty Python and the Holy Grail	83.18	91.98	82.96	79.30	1975	Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones
181	Le Samouraï	83.18	92.35	82.45	79.40	1967	Jean-Pierre Melville
182	Aliens	83.18	88.73	83.29	79.61	1986	James Cameron
183	PlayTime	83.16	93.50	80.22	78.80	1967	Jacques Tati
184	The Bridge on the River Kwai	83.14	90.58	81.93	80.24	1957	David Lean
185	The Red Shoes	83.13	93.15	82.82	79.96	1948	Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
186	American Beauty	83.10	87.15	81.93	81.13	1999	Sam Mendes
187	To Live	83.10	84.00	82.16	82.46	1994	Zhang Yimou
188	Battleship Potemkin	83.10	95.85	77.81	80.41	1925	Sergei Eisenstein
189	Day of Wrath	83.09	93.40	81.07	81.29	1943	Carl Theodor Dreyer
190	All Quiet on the Western Front	83.07	92.85	80.05	81.48	1930	Lewis Milestone
191	It's Such a Beautiful Day	83.07	91.25	83.62	79.77	2012	Don Hertzfeldt
192	Full Metal Jacket	83.06	81.53	82.21	82.54	1987	Stanley Kubrick
193	The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari	83.05	96.40	79.84	81.83	1920	Robert Wiene
194	Kes	83.03	97.80	79.59	80.55	1969	Ken Loach
195	The Usual Suspects	83.02	80.23	84.08	81.48	1995	Bryan Singer
196	The Cameraman	83.00	93.90	80.77	81.57	1928	Edward Segdwick, Buster Keaton
197	Aparajito	83.00	90.90	81.81	81.20	1956	Satyajit Ray
198	The Elephant Man	83.00	83.00	82.10	81.87	1980	David Lynch
199	Rebecca	82.98	90.08	81.08	80.93	1940	Alfred Hitchcock
200	Make Way for Tomorrow	82.97	95.80	81.72	80.14	1937	Leo McCarey
201	The Great Escape	82.97	87.68	82.29	80.66	1963	John Sturges
202	Your Name	82.97	84.55	84.07	81.29	2016	Makoto Shinkai
203	Limelight	82.92	88.00	79.85	83.02	1952	Charlie Chaplin
204	Breathless	82.92	91.95	78.88	79.10	1960	Jean-Luc Godard
205	Underground	82.91	80.75	81.26	82.64	1995	Emir Kusturica
206	The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance	82.88	91.90	81.08	79.53	1962	John Ford
207	Aguirre: The Wrath of God	82.87	94.55	80.46	78.62	1972	Werner Herzog
208	Oldboy	82.86	78.98	84.00	81.27	2003	Park Chan-wook
209	Up	82.84	90.28	81.32	80.86	2009	Pete Docter
210	Anatomy of a Murder	82.84	94.00	80.57	80.02	1959	Otto Preminger
211	The Wild Bunch	82.84	90.35	79.45	80.12	1969	Sam Peckinpah
212	The Hunt	82.75	82.08	82.79	82.62	2012	Thomas Vinterberg
213	Il Sorpasso	82.74	95.75	82.84	79.57	1962	Dino Risi
214	The Last Laugh	82.74	95.25	79.47	81.61	1924	F. W. Murnau
215	A Streetcar Named Desire	82.73	94.60	79.89	80.26	1951	Elia Kazan
216	Life Is Beautiful	82.73	68.45	83.60	85.57	1997	Roberto Benigni
217	A Short Film About Love	82.71	87.10	81.90	81.89	1988	Krzysztof Kieślowski
218	The Shop on Main Street	82.71	94.45	82.15	80.43	1965	Ján Kadár, Elmar Klos
219	Rio Bravo	82.71	92.10	80.46	79.80	1959	Howard Hawks
220	Roman Holiday	82.70	84.55	80.74	82.42	1953	William Wyler
221	Ivan's Childhood	82.69	94.80	81.25	80.37	1962	Andrei Tarkovsky
222	The Exterminating Angel	82.68	91.10	81.66	80.17	1962	Luis Buñuel
223	Trainspotting	82.68	85.20	81.57	81.21	1996	Danny Boyle
224	The Last Picture Show	82.67	94.15	79.90	79.56	1971	Peter Bogdanovich
225	The Truman Show	82.64	89.63	79.70	82.15	1998	Peter Weir
226	Memories of Murder	82.64	82.88	82.68	80.94	2003	Bong Joon-ho
227	Faust	82.62	89.70	80.23	81.94	1926	F. W. Murnau
228	Sans Soleil	82.62	83.90	79.45	80.51	1983	Chris Marker
229	Song of the Sea	82.57	87.63	80.59	82.23	2014	Tomm Moore
230	Léon: The Professional	82.55	67.38	84.05	84.07	1994	Luc Besson
231	Fargo	82.54	87.45	82.36	79.19	1996	Coen Brothers
232	Solaris	82.54	89.95	80.91	79.69	1972	Andrei Tarkovsky
233	Sweet Smell of Success	82.52	96.53	80.81	77.62	1957	Alexander Mackendrick
234	For a Few Dollars More	82.52	79.28	82.38	83.15	1965	Sergio Leone
235	White Heat	82.51	90.65	80.77	81.24	1949	Raoul Walsh
236	Brief Encounter	82.50	88.35	80.81	81.03	1945	David Lean
237	Wings of Desire	82.49	85.70	81.30	80.42	1987	Wim Wenders
238	Diabolique	82.47	90.70	81.27	80.73	1955	Henri-Georges Clouzot
239	An Autumn Afternoon	82.45	91.95	81.68	79.85	1962	Yasujirō Ozu
240	The Tale of the Princess Kaguya	82.44	90.63	81.16	80.43	2013	Isao Takahata
241	Amarcord	82.41	85.95	79.26	80.73	1973	Federico Fellini
242	Heat	82.40	79.08	82.03	81.73	1995	Michael Mann
243	L'Atalante	82.40	95.60	78.32	78.10	1934	Jean Vigo
244	Django Unchained	82.39	83.44	82.23	81.94	2012	Quentin Tarantino
245	Jeanne Dielman, 23 Commerce Quay, 1080 Brussels	82.38	95.50	78.73	79.69	1975	Chantal Akerman
246	Kind Hearts and Coronets	82.38	95.60	80.80	79.72	1949	Robert Hamer
247	Dog Day Afternoon	82.37	88.40	81.11	79.80	1975	Sidney Lumet
248	Forbidden Games	82.37	93.75	80.36	80.99	1952	René Clément
249	The Crowd	82.35	93.35	79.21	81.23	1928	King Vidor
250	Notorious	82.35	96.78	79.96	78.21	1946	Alfred Hitchcock
251	Mary and Max	82.35	88.05	80.95	82.42	2009	Adam Elliot
252	Persepolis	82.34	88.95	80.09	80.77	2007	Marjane Satrapi, Vincent Paronnaud
253	Howl's Moving Castle	82.33	78.71	82.63	83.10	2004	Hayao Miyazaki
254	Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind	82.33	85.10	81.54	82.03	1984	Hayao Miyazaki
255	Safety Last!	82.33	92.25	80.95	81.10	1923	Fred C. Newmeyer, Sam Taylor
256	Rosemary's Baby	82.32	94.78	79.99	78.69	1968	Roman Polanski
257	L'Avventura	82.32	92.10	79.08	78.03	1960	Michelangelo Antonioni
258	The Searchers	82.32	93.90	78.16	76.66	1956	John Ford
259	La Haine	82.30	90.60	82.38	79.56	1995	Mathieu Kassovitz
260	Three Colors: Blue	82.30	88.28	81.55	79.23	1993	Krzysztof Kieślowski
261	Chungking Express	82.30	79.95	82.29	80.73	1994	Wong Kar-wai
262	Inside Out	82.29	93.66	80.27	79.85	2015	Pete Docter
263	Where is the Friend's Home?	82.28	89.25	81.22	80.21	1987	Abbas Kiarostami
264	Cries and Whispers	82.27	85.45	81.02	80.80	1972	Ingmar Bergman
265	Napoleon	82.22	93.25	81.89	78.99	1927	Abel Gance
266	Paper Moon	82.19	83.08	81.37	81.29	1973	Peter Bogdanovich
267	The Spirit of the Beehive	82.17	89.83	79.31	78.91	1973	Víctor Erice
268	A Special Day	82.16	90.20	81.11	81.25	1977	Ettore Scola
269	Nostalghia	82.15	83.00	80.91	81.23	1983	Andrei Tarkovsky
270	Network	82.13	85.45	82.36	79.08	1976	Sidney Lumet
271	L'Eclisse	82.11	84.70	79.78	78.81	1962	Michelangelo Antonioni
272	Mr. Smith Goes to Washington	82.09	80.83	81.78	81.15	1939	Frank Capra
273	Sanjuro	82.09	91.90	81.67	80.85	1962	Akira Kurosawa
274	Badlands	82.06	93.38	79.77	77.21	1973	Terrence Malick
275	Vivre Sa Vie	82.06	85.20	80.12	79.83	1962	Jean-Luc Godard
276	Nobody Knows	82.06	87.18	81.12	81.15	2004	Hirokazu Koreeda
277	No Country for Old Men	82.05	90.68	80.56	78.47	2007	Coen Brothers
278	Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring	82.05	86.05	80.76	80.62	2003	Kim Ki-duk
279	La Notte	82.04	78.35	81.45	81.11	1961	Michelangelo Antonioni
280	The Celebration	82.04	84.23	81.34	80.08	1998	Thomas Vinterberg
281	In the Name of the Father	82.04	84.90	81.14	81.85	1993	Jim Sheridan
282	I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang	82.02	89.55	80.18	81.56	1932	Mervyn LeRoy
283	Shoplifters	82.01	92.39	80.60	79.31	2018	Hirokazu Koreeda
284	Finding Nemo	82.01	92.60	80.13	78.76	2003	Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich
285	Z	81.98	87.55	82.21	79.59	1969	Costa-Gavras
286	The Phantom Carriage	81.96	95.00	80.01	80.32	1921	Victor Sjöström
287	Manhattan	81.95	86.23	80.50	79.81	1979	Woody Allen
288	Rome, Open City	81.94	95.40	80.45	79.27	1945	Robert Rossellini
289	Children of Heaven	81.93	80.15	81.24	82.01	1997	Majid Majidi
290	The Green Mile	81.92	71.93	82.95	84.38	1999	Frank Darabont
291	The Iron Giant	81.91	86.61	80.88	79.95	1999	Brad Bird
292	The Sacrifice	81.90	80.30	80.47	81.37	1986	Andrei Tarkovsky
293	The Philadelphia Story	81.90	94.95	79.79	77.86	1940	George Cukor
294	The Twilight Samurai	81.90	86.10	81.07	81.13	2002	Yôji Yamada
295	Before Sunset	81.88	87.79	81.42	78.41	2004	Richard Linklater
296	Before Sunrise	81.86	84.40	82.24	79.44	1995	Richard Linklater
297	Castle in the Sky	81.85	81.63	81.49	82.06	1986	Hayao Miyazaki
298	The Departed	81.84	86.92	82.82	79.04	2006	Martin Scorsese
299	Brazil	81.83	90.23	80.61	78.37	1985	Terry Gilliam
300	Incendies	81.81	83.85	81.88	80.74	2011	Denis Villenueve
301	The Maltese Falcon	81.81	95.65	80.24	77.28	1941	John Huston
302	The Wizard of Oz	81.77	98.03	79.38	77.17	1939	Victor Fleming
303	Le Cercle Rouge	81.76	90.03	80.81	78.54	1970	Jean-Pierre Melville
304	Monsieur Verdoux	81.76	89.80	78.55	81.34	1947	Charlie Chaplin
305	The Return	81.72	84.85	80.02	80.96	2003	Andrey Zvyagintsev
306	Secrets & Lies	81.71	90.73	80.29	78.66	1996	Mike Leigh
307	The Hidden Fortress	81.70	91.25	80.79	80.72	1958	Akira Kurosawa
308	Pan's Labyrinth	81.69	92.59	81.60	76.08	2006	Guillermo del Toro
309	Amélie	81.69	79.64	81.96	80.27	2004	Jean-Pierre Jeunet
310	Ben-Hur	81.67	86.93	79.86	80.22	1959	William Wyler
311	Fitzcarraldo	81.67	75.80	81.06	81.21	1982	Werner Herzog
312	American History X	81.63	70.13	83.58	83.00	1998	Tony Kaye
313	Ace in the Hole	81.62	79.10	80.88	81.36	1951	Billy Wilder
314	Capernaum	81.62	81.83	80.52	82.18	2018	Nadine Labaki
315	Still Walking	81.61	90.30	80.92	79.48	2008	Hirokazu Koreeda
316	All About My Mother	81.61	88.77	79.56	78.80	1999	Pedro Almodóvar
317	The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie	81.60	92.28	78.82	78.83	1972	Luis Buñuel
318	Platoon	81.60	88.70	79.52	80.45	1986	Oliver Stone
319	Farewell My Concubine	81.60	80.50	80.49	81.04	1993	Chen Kaige
320	Letter from an Unknown Woman	81.59	93.10	79.84	79.31	1948	Max Ophüls
321	The Grand Budapest Hotel	81.58	87.64	80.72	79.19	2014	Wes Anderson
322	The Virgin Spring	81.58	82.45	80.70	80.66	1960	Ingmar Bergman
323	The Red Balloon	81.57	90.20	79.93	80.30	1956	Albert Lamorisse
324	Stagecoach	81.57	94.58	77.69	78.94	1939	John Ford
325	Mulholland Drive	81.56	80.61	79.60	77.87	2001	David Lynch
326	A Matter of Life and Death	81.49	92.60	81.91	76.27	1946	Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
327	High Noon	81.48	90.58	79.27	78.94	1952	Fred Zinnemann
328	Orpheus	81.48	96.20	79.88	78.90	1950	Jean Cocteau
329	Life of Brian	81.47	82.98	80.78	79.81	1979	Terry Jones
330	Casino	81.46	74.23	81.54	81.75	1995	Martin Scorsese
331	Kagemusha	81.44	82.93	80.01	80.43	1980	Akira Kurosawa
332	Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid	81.43	76.08	80.53	81.85	1969	George Roy Hill
333	In a Lonely Place	81.43	92.45	80.42	78.77	1950	Nicholas Ray
334	Scarface	81.43	71.30	81.97	82.18	1983	Brian De Palma
335	A Short Film About Killing	81.42	87.35	79.89	80.38	1988	Krzysztof Kieślowski
336	Beauty and the Beast	81.41	92.05	79.28	78.32	1946	Jean Cocteau
337	The Hustler	81.39	92.45	80.43	78.97	1961	Robert Rossen
338	Cléo from 5 to 7	81.38	91.65	80.03	79.11	1962	Agnès Varda
339	Fireworks	81.37	90.15	80.01	79.63	1997	Takeshi Kitano
340	Room	81.36	88.41	80.43	79.48	2015	Lenny Abrahamson
341	Mad Max: Fury Road	81.35	90.39	79.76	77.80	2015	George Miller
342	Steamboat Bill, Jr.	81.32	95.75	79.30	79.23	1928	Charles Reisner, Buster Keaton
343	Judgment at Nuremberg	81.31	71.58	82.24	83.03	1961	Stanley Kramer
344	The Straight Story	81.30	87.15	79.64	79.88	1999	David Lynch
345	Meshes of the Afternoon	81.29	96.25	77.91	79.99	1943	Maya Deren, Alexandr Hackenschmied
346	Alice in the Cities	81.28	86.70	79.60	80.20	1974	Wim Wenders
347	Akira	81.28	80.90	81.12	79.98	1988	Katsuhiro Otomo
348	Good Will Hunting	81.27	79.38	81.97	81.05	1997	Gus Van Sant
349	The Miracle Worker	81.25	85.15	78.88	81.55	1962	Arthur Penn
350	Talk to Her	81.25	87.48	79.33	78.71	2002	Pedro Almodóvar
351	The Graduate	81.24	85.58	78.91	79.97	1967	Mike Nichols
352	Beauty and the Beast	81.22	92.28	79.20	78.77	1991	Gary Trousdale, Kirk Wise
353	The Heiress	81.19	94.45	80.20	79.76	1949	William Wyler
354	Fantasia	81.18	93.03	76.76	79.95	1940	Samuel Armstrong, James Algar
355	Au Revoir les Enfants	81.18	94.25	80.14	78.92	1987	Louis Malle
356	Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri	81.18	88.62	79.36	79.90	2017	Martin McDonagh
357	Inglourious Basterds	81.17	79.05	81.06	80.51	2009	Quentin Tarantino
358	Elevator to the Gallows	81.16	90.45	79.31	78.56	1958	Louis Malle
359	Gladiator	81.16	75.39	81.69	81.52	2000	Ridley Scott
360	Through a Glass Darkly	81.15	93.60	81.11	78.86	1961	Ingmar Bergman
361	Million Dollar Baby	81.15	87.41	77.43	80.72	2004	Clint Eastwood
362	Days of Heaven	81.15	90.75	80.19	77.08	1978	Terrence Malick
363	Do the Right Thing	81.15	90.78	80.26	77.04	1989	Spike Lee
364	Out of the Past	81.14	91.40	80.73	77.92	1947	Jacques Tourneur
365	Strangers on a Train	81.11	93.30	80.01	78.68	1951	Alfred Hitchcock
366	Blue Velvet	81.11	83.48	78.98	77.09	1986	David Lynch
367	That Obscure Object of Desire	81.09	89.40	79.59	78.11	1977	Luis Buñuel
368	What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?	81.08	80.23	80.74	80.75	1962	Robert Aldrich
369	My Night at Maud's	81.07	88.15	79.51	79.42	1969	Éric Rohmer
370	The Earrings of Madame de…	81.07	92.15	80.36	77.05	1953	Max Ophüls
371	The Conversation	81.04	89.23	80.03	77.44	1974	Francis Ford Coppola
372	The Killing	81.03	91.50	79.51	79.21	1956	Stanley Kubrick
373	The Servant	81.03	87.83	79.45	78.57	1963	Joseph Losey
374	The Intouchables	81.03	67.15	82.13	84.70	2011	Olivier Nakache, Éric Toledano
375	The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp	81.01	94.15	81.57	75.44	1943	Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
376	Jaws	81.01	90.98	79.91	75.70	1975	Steven Spielberg
377	Winter Light	81.01	73.55	81.51	79.95	1963	Ingmar Bergman
378	Love Exposure	81.01	80.88	82.23	79.55	2008	Sion Sono
379	Hiroshima Mon Amour	81.00	92.95	80.13	77.99	1959	Alain Resnais
380	Day for Night	80.98	92.55	80.21	78.27	1973	François Truffaut
381	Ratatouille	80.97	92.73	78.72	78.68	2007	Brad Bird
382	Ghost in the Shell	80.97	81.43	79.98	81.15	1995	Mamoru Oshii
383	Germany Year Zero	80.95	92.00	77.80	80.03	1948	Roberto Rossellini
384	Spotlight	80.93	93.00	79.75	77.55	2015	Tom McCarthy
385	Die Hard	80.93	79.58	81.11	79.43	1988	John McTiernan
386	Laura	80.93	93.80	79.70	78.47	1944	Otto Preminger
387	Sleuth	80.93	89.95	79.16	80.87	1972	Joseph L. Mankiewicz
388	The Diving Bell and the Butterfly	80.92	88.64	79.69	77.84	2007	Julian Schnabel
389	The Handmaiden	80.92	85.99	82.55	77.41	2016	Park Chan-wook
390	Stand by Me	80.90	80.20	81.28	79.54	1986	Rob Reiner
391	Wolf Children	80.90	80.15	80.40	81.27	2012	Mamoru Hosoda
392	Marriage Story	80.88	92.86	79.40	77.75	2019	Noam Baumbach
393	Shoeshine	80.87	93.75	79.02	79.38	1946	Vittorio De Sica
394	Freaks	80.85	84.70	77.66	80.31	1932	Tod Browning
395	Nosferatu	80.85	93.75	78.29	79.14	1922	F. W. Murnau
396	Dial M for Murder	80.84	77.60	81.17	81.31	1954	Alfred Hitchcock
397	Amour	80.81	90.90	77.74	78.19	2012	Michael Haneke
398	12 Years a Slave	80.80	94.00	79.74	76.94	2013	Steve McQueen
399	The Nightmare Before Christmas	80.77	85.38	79.26	79.69	1993	Henry Selick
400	Cabaret	80.77	84.68	77.34	80.69	1972	Bob Fosse
401	Central Station	80.77	83.28	80.91	78.52	1998	Walter Salles
402	Landscape in the Mist	80.74	71.35	80.76	80.28	1988	Theo Angelopoulos
403	1917	80.73	84.37	80.65	79.33	2019	Sam Mendes
404	Intolerance: Love's Struggle Throughout the Ages	80.71	93.98	75.69	78.01	1916	D. W. Griffith
405	Call Me by Your Name	80.71	91.25	79.43	77.87	2017	Luca Guadagnino
406	Midnight Cowboy	80.71	82.98	79.10	79.50	1969	John Schlesinger
407	Shadow of a Doubt	80.70	94.38	79.31	76.04	1943	Alfred Hitchcock
408	Interstellar	80.70	74.16	81.30	82.25	2014	Christopher Nolan
409	Hannah and Her Sisters	80.69	88.95	79.15	77.98	1986	Woody Allen
410	Monsters, Inc.	80.68	85.29	79.37	80.08	2001	Pete Docter, David Silverman
411	The Testament of Dr. Mabuse	80.65	85.85	79.40	79.38	1933	Fritz Lang
412	Downfall	80.64	83.53	81.54	78.55	2004	Oliver Hirschbiegel
413	Being There	80.64	87.30	79.42	78.06	1979	Hal Ashby
414	The Killer	80.63	92.60	79.27	78.66	1989	John Woo
415	My Left Foot: The Story of Christy Brown	80.63	93.23	78.13	79.15	1989	Jim Sheridan
416	Jean de Florette	80.60	88.40	80.18	79.69	1986	Claude Berri
417	The Big Lebowski	80.57	74.80	82.28	78.57	1998	Coen Brothers
418	The King's Speech	80.57	90.86	78.50	78.59	2010	Tom Hooper
419	Whisper of the Heart	80.55	79.98	80.80	80.31	1995	Yoshifumi Kondō
420	E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial	80.54	93.08	77.22	77.82	1982	Steven Spielberg
421	Infernal Affairs	80.54	79.83	79.92	80.22	2002	Andrew Lau, Alan Mak
422	The Prestige	80.54	72.22	82.71	81.38	2006	Christopher Nolan
423	Our Hospitality	80.54	92.85	77.72	79.58	1923	Buster Keaton, John G. Blystone
424	Zootopia	80.53	85.22	78.84	80.18	2016	Byron Howard, Rich Moore
425	Toy Story 2	80.49	92.59	78.51	77.05	1999	John Lasseter, Ash Brannon, Lee Unkrich
426	Klaus	80.48	75.00	81.07	81.41	2019	Sergio Pablos
427	The Big Sleep	80.45	92.10	79.74	77.58	1946	Howard Hawks
428	Ford v Ferrari	80.45	83.94	79.37	80.01	2019	James Mangold
429	Dead Poets Society	80.44	78.70	79.43	80.75	1989	Peter Weir
430	The Terminator	80.43	89.08	78.26	78.13	1984	James Cameron
431	Naked	80.43	84.48	80.39	77.34	1993	Mike Leigh
432	Dangal	80.41	83.00	79.68	80.56	2016	Nitesh Tiwari
433	Kwaidan	80.40	81.80	79.75	79.42	1964	Masaki Kobayashi
434	The Man Who Would Be King	80.40	90.55	78.24	77.79	1975	John Huston
435	Wild Tales	80.38	82.57	80.48	79.22	2014	Damián Szifron
436	Groundhog Day	80.38	80.08	79.31	79.35	1993	Harold Ramis
437	Catch Me If You Can	80.38	83.44	78.74	80.57	2002	Steven Spielberg
438	I Vitelloni	80.36	90.28	77.64	78.06	1953	Federico Fellini
439	The Big Heat	80.35	92.90	79.27	77.87	1953	Fritz Lang
440	The Double Life of Véronique	80.35	82.63	80.19	77.87	1991	Krzysztof Kieślowski
441	Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?	80.35	82.58	80.19	78.43	1966	Mike Nichols
442	Requiem for a Dream	80.33	71.39	81.39	80.93	2000	Darren Aronofsky
443	Rope	80.33	79.20	80.31	79.30	1948	Alfred Hitchcock
444	Love and Death	80.33	89.83	77.55	78.50	1975	Woody Allen
445	The Remains of the Day	80.29	86.88	78.75	78.80	1993	James Ivory
446	Jules and Jim	80.28	93.70	78.30	77.94	1962	François Truffaut
447	The Gospel According to Matthew	80.28	88.30	76.50	78.52	1964	Pier Paolo Pasolini
448	How to Train Your Dragon	80.27	81.97	79.45	80.24	2010	Chris Sanders, Dean DeBlois
449	Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2	80.27	88.50	78.81	78.53	2011	David Yates
450	Cat on a Hot Tin Roof	80.26	87.05	79.46	79.79	1958	Richard Brooks
451	The French Connection	80.26	93.35	78.04	76.89	1971	William Friedkin
452	Opening Night	80.25	78.05	80.50	79.25	1977	John Cassavetes
453	Hotel Rwanda	80.24	84.54	79.34	79.40	2004	Terry George
454	4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days	80.22	92.51	77.76	76.22	2007	Cristian Mungiu
455	Tampopo	80.22	92.40	81.20	77.01	1985	Juzo Itami
456	Scarface	80.22	93.50	76.43	79.55	1932	Howard Hawks, Howard Hughes
457	The Face of Another	80.21	87.50	79.61	79.34	1966	Hiroshi Teshigahara
458	The Roaring Twenties	80.21	86.20	77.79	80.68	1939	Raoul Walsh
459	Pickpocket	80.20	93.80	76.41	76.47	1959	Robert Bresson
460	Kiki's Delivery Service	80.20	85.45	79.87	78.84	1989	Hayao Miyazaki
461	A Prophet	80.19	89.61	79.53	76.14	2009	Jacques Audiard
462	Zelig	80.19	90.00	76.50	80.29	1983	Woody Allen
463	Trouble in Paradise	80.18	88.20	79.35	77.62	1932	Ernst Lubitsch
464	Gran Torino	80.17	76.27	78.57	82.36	2008	Clint Eastwood
465	Last Year at Marienbad	80.16	88.25	78.29	77.37	1961	Alain Resnais
466	All the President's Men	80.15	85.95	80.48	76.46	1976	Alan J. Pakula
467	Breaking the Waves	80.15	79.85	78.46	79.55	1996	Lars von Trier
468	Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade	80.14	74.28	81.44	80.57	1989	Steven Spielberg
469	Divorce Italian Style	80.12	91.00	79.28	78.26	1961	Pietro Germi
470	Edward Scissorhands	80.12	78.65	78.09	80.73	1990	Tim Burton
471	The Thing	80.12	67.98	82.60	79.34	1982	John Carpenter
472	Perfect Blue	80.11	74.05	80.91	80.09	1997	Satoshi Kon
473	Down by Law	80.10	79.03	78.98	79.61	1986	Jim Jarmusch
474	Bringing Up Baby	80.10	90.75	78.25	76.45	1938	Howard Hawks
475	The Phantom of Liberty	80.09	85.10	78.89	78.66	1974	Luis Buñuel
476	Bonnie and Clyde	80.07	85.38	78.16	78.23	1967	Arthur Penn
477	The Incredibles	80.07	89.69	79.77	75.78	2004	Brad Bird
478	Rocky	80.04	79.73	79.17	79.29	1976	John G. Avildsen
479	His Girl Friday	80.03	94.15	79.24	76.72	1940	Howard Hawks
480	Mommy	80.03	80.79	80.39	79.13	2014	Xavier Dolan
481	Mon Oncle	80.03	88.00	78.03	78.76	1958	Jacques Tati
482	My Fair Lady	79.99	91.85	77.53	78.00	1964	George Cukor
483	Charade	79.98	85.55	79.37	78.72	1963	Stanley Donen
484	Stalag 17	79.95	87.13	79.62	77.79	1953	Billy Wilder
485	Boyhood	79.95	97.08	76.08	75.95	2014	Richard Linklater
486	The Secret in Their Eyes	79.95	82.49	81.27	77.67	2009	Juan José Campanella
487	Ninotchka	79.95	90.15	77.99	78.50	1939	Ernst Lubitsch
488	Pierrot le Fou	79.94	81.75	77.84	76.65	1965	Jean-Luc Godard
489	The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser	79.94	89.10	78.30	78.27	1974	Werner Herzog
490	Stroszek	79.94	88.40	79.50	77.77	1977	Werner Herzog
491	A Hard Day's Night	79.93	93.73	76.82	77.08	1964	Richard Lester
492	Onibaba	79.90	74.75	79.42	79.96	1964	Kaneto Shindo
493	Repulsion	79.85	92.68	77.29	76.57	1965	Roman Polanski
494	Like Stars on Earth	79.85	80.50	79.54	79.86	2007	Aamir Khan, Amole Gupte
495	Duck Soup	79.84	92.33	79.01	74.92	1933	Leo McCarey
496	Carlito's Way	79.83	70.28	79.16	82.01	1993	Brian De Palma
497	Nashville	79.82	93.23	76.89	74.92	1975	Robert Altman
498	The Triplets of Belleville	79.82	88.97	76.57	78.66	2003	Sylvain Chomet
499	Dr. Mabuse the Gambler	79.81	85.10	76.88	79.98	1922	Fritz Lang
500	Gone Girl	79.79	83.03	79.32	78.87	2014	David Fincher

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