Tyler Perry: Let’s do a sequel!
Christmas is a pagan-ass holiday, so it’s surprising that Tyler Perry’s translation of God’s word would even allow the moral latitude to celebrate this shit. Then again, we’ve seen Madea shoot at the feet of her own relatives, so what’s a little Santa Claus gon’ hurt? (And by the way, this movie deserves two lumps of coal.)
There really are so many other ways to discipline to your kids without beating they ass — like making them watch this animated film, for instance. One viewing will scare them straight faster than you could…
“I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Tyler Perry steps into a nondescript hotel suite near New York’s Columbus Circle, trailed by a septet of aides, assistants, and all the other support staff that comes along with being a studio mogul. Something weird is going on, and it’s not the unseasonably warm January afternoon outside.
Interviews like this tend to be a seminar in Advanced Waiting, long periods of looking over your questions punctuated by periodic text updates from some unseen wrangler as to why the person you’re there to talk to is nowhere to be found. But Perry, who…
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