Powers Hour

Yep it’s me, Powers Boothe. Leading man, Southwest Texas State University Grad, honorary black belt and on and on and on. Don’t pretend you don’t recognize me. You do. You’ve seen this mug plastered prominently on silver screens from Minneapolis to Moscow, from Russia to the US and then back again.

I’ve worked with the hottest dames, the best leading men, and some of the most articulate coloreds in the biz. All the while making sure the audience leaves the theaters with their crotches dripping of blood, urine or cum. Sometimes all of the above. I am not gonna explain what I meant by that. I’d just as soon eat out a dead whore’s axe wound than hold your hand through this editorial.

Do you think Pacino held my hand through Cruisin? You’re god damn right he didn’t. It only took me two days on set to learn that lesson the hard way. I called him Al mid scene, and I don’t need to tell you that before the director could yell cut my face was dripping with sweat from A.P.’s baby beans.

Let’s get this straight. You’re taking a trip down Boothe Lane, and it’s a one way street where all of the parking is metered. I will be one of the most Powers’ful forces this internet fad has ever seen. And you will get to know me well. For one, I love stabbing clam, but that’s a given. I also knifed a guy in Cincinnati but I don’t want to get to into that just yet, cause The P.B. doesn’t blow his J. until he’s got his target engaged. And once you get in this Boothe your guaranteed to have an excellent adventure, regardless of whether or not your name is Bill or Fred. Also, I was talking about ejaculating in the sentence before the last one. See you soon, sugar tits.