There has been a lot of chatter in the blogopolis this week about Quentin Tarantino’s new filmscreenplay, Inglorious Bastards. Tarantino has big ambitions for his long-rumored World War II picture, which he says he wants to have ready for next year’s Cannes Film Festival.

The main reason that I haven’t been able to write about this project isn’t because I think Quentin Tarantino has already lost the mantle of great director, although I think he has (someone drank his milkshake, they drank it up). And it’s not because I think it’s ridiculous to provide coverage for someone just finishing a screenplay, although it is. And it isn’t because the idea of a Quentin Tarantino World War II movie makes me want to barf, although it does. No, I can barf and type this blog at the same time, don’t even worry about it.

The main reason I’ve been so averse to covering the completion of the screenplay for Inglorious Bastards is because every picture of Quentin Tarantino I’ve seen online this week to illustrate a story about him has been like The Ring of photographs. (You die within days of seeing it. Because you kill yourself. Because Oh My God his face.)

AHHHHHHHHHH!

NOOOOOOOOOOO!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I’m sorry that I had to put you through that, I just wanted you to understand what took me so long. You can only go to the bathroom to clean out the bucket of blood and tears that sits by your desk so many times, all the while wiping thick gobs of viscous pus from your eyes (my body was trying to protect itself) before you just say “fuck it, I’m writing about something less painful, like Heidi Montag’s new single.”

Anyway, the only way I was even able to do this post was by using Photoshop to make Quentin Tarantino more attractive.

That’s how they do it at Glamour. They just use some gentle retouching to eliminate your blemishes, or in Mr. Tarantino’s case blemish (face). Awww. It’s not nice to make fun of someone for a paparazzi photo, BUT I’M ONLY HUMAN. Besides, since Quentin Tarantino’s a vampire now, he’ll have centuries to forget about any slings and arrows I may fire his way.

But Inglorious Bastards, you guys. Quentin Tarantino’s Heaven’s Gate. I just called it.