John Amos Friday 23rd May 2008 Actor John Amos joins the Vietnam Veterans Rolling Thunder motorcyle riders in a press conference to kick off their annual ride from the Pentagon to the Lincoln Memorial. Crystal City, Virginia
As Akeem, the crown prince of the prosperous African monarchy of Zamunda, Murphy grows up ensconced in a lifestyle of extreme pampering. He grows up literally walking on rose petals, with servants happily servicing his most private bodily functions. As he approaches adulthood however, Akeem grows restless with his luxurious isolation, especially after he meets the subservient sex-bot who will be his arranged bride.
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What a pity that Die Hard 2: Die Harder (based on the novel 58 Minutes) falls into the trap of being just another Die Hard in Washington's Dulles Airport. I mean, it's kinda funny that John McClane (Bruce Willis, having a good ol' time) acknowledges his pathetic luck. Not this shit again! He's waiting for his wife's plane to land when terrorists seize control of the airport, crashing a plane just to prove that they'll stop at nothing. Yes, they will stop at nothing! Insert an evil laugh here, and throw in a moustache twirl, why dontcha?
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Roots begins with Kunta Kinte, emerging from childhood and undergoing warrior training in his tribal homeland. The slavers arrive soon enough, and after a harrowing three-month ride back across the Atlantic, Kunta is sold, becomes Toby under his new master, attempts repeated escapes, and eventually accepts his fate as he settles down with a wife and child. The Revolutionary War comes and goes, and Toby's daughter Kizzy is sold, becoming the mother of her new master's son, known as Chicken George. Chicken George in turn is sent to England to pay off a gambling debt. When he returns home after 14 years, he is a free man. The Civil War arrives, and the rest of the slaves are freed. Soon enough the family faces the perils of vehement racism and the KKK, and Chicken George finally leads his family to safety in a new settlement.
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No quote better captures the excruciating experience of watching, or rather surviving, My Baby's Daddy. It's stupid and pointless. It's vulgar and crass without being remotely funny. It's racist and creepy, with a streak of sentimentality that's as genuine as a con man's handshake. It's full of more clichés than TV Land's primetime lineup. Writing a review is almost pointless, because anything I write will sound like a warning screamed from the rooftop.
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