Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

For those of you who doubt your ability to write, your own artistic kindling you must ignite, fight to write tight and the reader's emotion…incite. I will be the first to pontificate on both the individual and expanding, externalizing value of the written word--for these words, painstakingly selected and assorted in an artistic, naturalistic configuration provide the blueprints, the backbone, the body to speeches, soliloquies, scripts, songs, screenplays, stories and gift the speaker, narrator, vocal host, voice over artist, audiobook actor or emcee, such as Emcee Brittney, the fuel needed to, their voice, ignite as they deliver those 2 dimensional words into something more bold, brilliant and bright, something certain to arouse and, our endless emotions, incite.

I volunteer this from both a first person view and from first hand experience, I wrote the poem: How to Draw a Blank, a poem I was proud enough to share with Emcee Brittney and, subsequently, an unknown number of ears as this was broadcasted over the, sometimes shallow, but deep reaching oasis of social media; she performed a feat I was unable to pull off on my own, she breathed new, warm life into that cold assortment of words in a way that I never could. She demonstrated a real grasp of the subject matter and displayed all of the corresponding feelings needed to awaken the words and transform them into something lovely, loud and living--that linger long after her reading has concluded. She did this with a poem, A POEM, not her self-professed forte, by the way. She challenged herself, took on and transcended what I could have ever imagined or envisioned for how powerful my poem could sound, as a favor to me, a gesture towards a working artistic relationship ongoing. She enlivened my personal piece and just think, Podience, Writer Ghosts, Faux Poets, just think what she can do to, and for, your coveted prose, short stories, novels, training materials, original tales, memoirs and testimonies. Ponder the possibilities!

Welcome Emcee Brittney, thank you for regaling your clients, colleagues and fans with your deft narrative spree and for bringing, to those who follow your content and enjoy your posts, an irrefutable glee.

To say I, and we, are lucky to have your talented spirit, spirit as in writer ghosts, is the understatement of this lecture. WELCOME!

I'm a Rogue Poet, my poetry format is counter vogue, in case you didn't know it.

I am Faux Poe, your igniter host, you are my writer ghosts. WELCOME! you wired, inspired, miles from retired writers to: Lecture 1: Faux Poet: How to Write Tight and Emotion Incite--Seizing the Aurally Pleasing Words (Gracious Guest Lecture with Emcee Brittney)

F.C.F.U. (Fact-Check Follow Up)

Abraham Lincoln served as a volunteer in the Illinois Militia April 21, 1832 – July 10, 1832, during the Black Hawk War. Lincoln never saw combat during his tour but was elected captain of his first company.

The film Happy Feet did NOT utilize the voice acting of Kristen Bell.

Write to creativity ignite and, the readers' passions, incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Time to Spare, courtesy of the artist, An Jone.

Like Blake and his leper colony in John Carpenter's THE FOG, By Campfire, We Conspire-

Tonight, Ashley from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air refuses to easily scare and burns up in her colonial home with a gown so white and perfect hair.

Sardo proves as fraudulent as his fake fucking vomit, and this trio fucked with the wrong interdimensional comet.

The spell of the second fright and an interdimensional fight.

These super glasses show black fucking masses!

Good Evening, Match Scratchers!

Welcome to CAMPFIRE SCARYTALES, where our campsite will affright till morning light.

"When midnight chimes, we both will meet,

Podcasting slick, sick tales to scare;

Master your fear, stoke dying heat--

Embrace the coal's glowing orange glare."

-Falsetto, No Mr. accent on the to.

If you once enjoyed, still enjoy or will enjoy henceforth, and in perpetuity, Nickelodeon's very own Are You Afraid of the Dark? broadcast that terrified tot and teen alike in the early 90's, then you will feel right at home on the forsaken rocks, atop the speaker's stone throne while occupying temporary, nocturnal space in this chillingly convenient clearing where fellow match scratchers meet to pour tales of terror upon an open flame. These terrifying testimonies are far from tame, the most unnerving, unsettling and upsetting scarytale wins the game and striking matches, along with striking deeply into your core fear gland, proves their aim. If you're soon too frightened or anxious to sleep, if you intend to scream but can nary muster a peep, if your once spry movements retard to a lumbering creep, in becoming a slave to your fears, you have but yourself to blame.

Between midnight and first light we meet, our appetites prepped for delicious tales of fright, in your own unease, crawling skin, tingled spine and sweaty brow we take delight, it will be hours before you can see anything beyond our proximal campfire light, our weekly night light, we cleared, constructed and consecrated this campsite, in our Match Scratch Society we revel in delight, it is both our sacred and unholy duty to, your fears, incite, this cold cord of wood ignite--your amygdala affright, if, by some miraculous design, you survive the scarytale of the night, then it is your solemn Campfire Scarytale duty to find your Match Scratcher ass back to this haunted hollow with your own flashlight!

Today, you are tricked or treated, depending on your point of voodoo with our tenth submission tale of terror. Between midnight and first light, strike a match and, a new batch of dismaying, fears and anxieties not allaying, tales hatch; the goal is to, the last told tale, outmatch and leave the loser, to the victor, begging for a rematch…with that Match Scratchers, sleep deeply and remember to, your bedroom window, latch.

Podcasted for the Auditory Approval of the Match Scratch Society, we whisper, through the mic, our fireside submission, sometime between midnight and first light of Campfire Scarytales: Submission 10: Super Quick, Silver Spectacle Society--Dimension in Contention/Suffer April's Fool (Black Basketball and White Chalk on the Wall); (Silver Mistake, Sardo's the Fake); (Quicksilver/Super Specs)

Until next time, Match Scratchers!

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires, call out Campfire Scarytale imposters and disloyal match scratcher liars!

F.C.F.U. (Fact-Check Follow Ups)

Home is the 9th episode of Season 1 of Supernatural. It aired on November 15, 2005.

Now and Then is a 1995 American film directed by Lesli Linka Glatter. The plot follows four women who recount a pivotal summer they shared together as adolescents in 1970.

"The only prescription is more cowbell." Christopher Walken from SNL.

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Surrender, courtesy of the artist, Asher Fulero, with a medley of sound effects added for, you guessed it, effect.

Howdy Slick Tear Slippers,

You comprise, constitute and coalesce my throngs of both intelligent, emotional and emotionally intelligent cinematic fanatic fans--and you are legion.

Is there a method to your leaking peepers or is that visual teary-eyed visage more situational and erratic? Some scenes and sequences in these slick flicks are so dramatic, climatic, emphatic and traumatic you have no choice but to bear these emotionally bludgeoning burdens traumatic, feel these sensations thematic, acknowledge those very same feelings are far from pragmatic--in fact, at times, problematic, from the painfully rheumatic to cathartic and ecstatic, is it matter over mind or rather somatic; my singular passion for emotive films remains dogmatic, at times enigmatic, but for all things cinematic I am charismatic and in my preparation for these well-thought out aural presentations both candidly passionate and wildly systematic.

Have you ever felt the surge of saltwater surface behind the crest of your peepers, eager to burst, release, escape and glide down the contours of your countenance until it drips gently, but repeatedly off the pronounced end of your unblemished cheek as it slides confidently, unapologetically off the dimple of your chin and down towards gravity and the great un-fstars-known?

What I fancy about a good godd*** cry is there is candor to the wet confetti, no untruth, half-truth or 3/4 lie, eyes speak in truthful tongues, they are too overt, too unsubtle to be sly. I strongly urge you, my cinematic fanatics, to partake in this legit shiz truth, this unadulterated cry, let the salty fluid flow and permit at least one sincere slick tear slip--before you die.

Films fascinate, they educate, they entertain, excite and, on rare but rewarding occasion, prompt us to feel, chuckle--occasionally chortle-- question life, comfort our strife, force us to reflect and correct crooked intellect, whether taking a taxing load off or tacking on burdensome emotional heft, sometimes these flicks are so tenacious, telling and true there is nothing left to emote but a well-earned, unapologetic goddamn cry.

The following filmography nexus draws an emotional link between a masterful film and its undying ability to stir, stoke and provoke creeping tear reapers behind our peepers. This will be your last phase into this Slick Tear Slip excursion, I assure you 'twill be memorable.

The right Slick Flick Pick can morph into a slick tear slip and gift you metaphorical, cinematic wings, make you feel you can fly, others tear at your insides, break your heart, punch your gut, clutch your drawn breath, make you cry.

The following Chemohawk Session broadcast will encompass the final four of my top 16 slick, teary-eye inducing moments from Slick Flick Pick: (Note some of these were previously discussed tangentially on an already posted episode, others are yet to be dissected, in full, and posted, and some, while the specific scene is worth mentioning here, the film, in its entirety, is not worthy of a Slick Flick Pick induction.

There is a sweetness in sympathetic machinations and in the subsequent sincere emotional reactions and ramifications to poignant cinematic stimuli.

The four films discussed today, speaking to the specific melancholy, inspirational or moving moments and beyond, are, in chronological order: The Game, 1997, Good Will Hunting, 1998, A Lot Like Love, 2005, Out of the Furnace, 2013.

-Your worthwhile cinephile and wide teary eyed Slick Tear Slip guide: Falsetto Prophet

*Intro/outro song, Searching for Time, courtesy of the artist, Telecasted.

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

Are you in store for, of these Faux Poet teasers, more? Let us, new projects and novel pursuits, explore as my creative mind takes flight and shapes its wing into a a graceful, gliding soar.

This 'twill serve as your second Faux Poet teaser where my treasured poem How to Draw a Blank is read, with proficient poise and powerful panache, by Emcee Brittney!

Enjoy, Faux Poets!

Coming soon, to an ear canal near you, perhaps even your own, your very venerated voice for sore ears, Faux Poe with a fresh lecture of Faux Poet!

Write to creativity ignite and the readers' passions fstars incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Time to Spare, courtesy of the artist, An Jone.

Like Blake and his leper colony in John Carpenter's THE FOG, By Campfire, We Conspire-

Tonight, Eric Matthews from Boy Meets World enters another past/dimensional world, and proves sly as a fucking fox with the boom box.

We wonder if that lost frisbee caught on a branch of the Hangman's Tree.

Good Evening, Match Scratchers!

"When midnight chimes, we both will meet,

Podcasting slick, sick tales to scare;

Master your fear, stoke dying heat--

Embrace the coal's glowing orange glare."

Welcome to CAMPFIRE SCARYTALES, where our campsite will affright till morning light.

If you once enjoyed, still enjoy or will enjoy henceforth, and in perpetuity, Nickelodeon's very own Are You Afraid of the Dark? broadcast that terrified tot and teen alike in the early 90's, then you will feel right at home on the forsaken rocks, atop the speaker's stone throne while occupying temporary, nocturnal space in this chillingly convenient clearing where fellow match scratchers meet to pour tales of terror upon an open flame.

These terrifying testimonies are far from tame, the most unnerving, unsettling and upsetting scarytale wins the game and striking matches, along with striking deeply into your core fear gland, proves their aim. If you're soon too frightened or anxious to sleep, if you intend to scream but can nary muster a peep, if your once spry movements retard to a lumbering creep, in becoming a slave to your fears, you have but yourself to blame.

Between midnight and first light we meet, our appetites prepped for delicious tales of fright, in your own unease, crawling skin, tingled spine and sweaty brow we take delight, it will be hours before you can see anything beyond our proximal campfire light, our weekly night light, we cleared, constructed and consecrated this campsite, in our Match Scratch Society we revel in delight, it is both our sacred and unholy duty to, your fears, incite, this cold cord of wood ignite--your amygdala affright, if, by some miraculous design, you survive the scarytale of the night, then it is your solemn Campfire Scarytale duty to find your Match Scratcher ass back to this haunted hollow with your own flashlight!

Today, you are tricked or treated, depending on your point of voodoo with our ninth submission tale of terror. Between midnight and first light, strike a match and, a new batch of dismaying, fears and anxieties not allaying, tales hatch; the goal is to, the last told tale, outmatch and leave the loser, to the victor, begging for a rematch…with that Match Scratchers, sleep deeply and remember to, your bedroom window, latch.  

Podcasted for the Auditory Approval of the Match Scratch Society, we whisper, through the mic, our fireside submission, sometime between midnight and first light of Campfire Scarytales: Submission 9: Midnight Bike Locket, Match Scratch Society--Decapitation Initiation (Hangman's Tree, Lost Frisbee and a Bike Lock Key); (Redcoats, Showboats and Noose-Tied

Until next time, Match Scratchers!

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires, call out Campfire Scarytale imposters and disloyal match scratcher liars!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Surrender, courtesy of the artist, Asher Fulero, with a medley of sound effects added for, you guessed it, effect.

**A Chemohawk Celebratory Cheers to my 200th posted episode of Chemohawk Sessions!!!**

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

Are you in store for 200 more? Let us, new projects and novel pursuits, explore as my creative mind takes flight and shapes its wing into a a graceful, gliding soar.

This 'twill serve as your premiere Faux Poet teaser where my coveted poem The Whole Tried World is read, with wrathful mother nature gusto, by Asset Athena.

Enjoy, Faux Poets!

Coming soon, to an ear canal near you, perhaps even your own, your very venerated voice for sore ears, Faux Poe with a fresh lecture of Faux Poet!

Write to creativity ignite and the readers' passions fstars incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Time to Spare, courtesy of the artist, An Jone.

Greetings Faux Poets!

I never harbored the mental agility, acuity or acumen to be an astronaut, the duplicitous nature required to be a political animal, the fortitude to be a farmer, no… but I do possess both a penchant and the penmanship to be a poet!

Hello Fellow Faux Poets and wishing, willing, winsome--possibly wanting--writers. To steal, borrow, temporarily liberate, and utilize for my own lofty motivations, I will remind you of a quote spoken by Jeffrey Wigand from Michael Mann's The Insider: I find chemistry to be magical. I find it an adventure, an exploration into the physical building blocks of our universe.--Jeffrey Wigand

It is a humbling scene and an inspiring cinematic moment I hope to emulate into something equally as affecting.

I, your Falsetto Faux Poet, believe writing: prose and poetry, the literary expression and its subsequent analytical dissection to be magical, with occasionally mystical properties, oft veering into the mythical, the mythological, the macabre, the motivational and the maudlin; I find it a productive pursuit and an earnest endeavor, an artistic and eloquent exploration into the blue prints of our emotions: our fears, our mirth, our desires and what we are too bashful to proclaim we value.

We will explore the aforementioned and much, much more.

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.--Eric Berne

If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner and wink your eye at some homely girl.--H.L. Mencken

There are two means of refuge from the misery of life: music and cats.--Albert Schweitzer

"Glass or goblet, half empty, half full, either way you leave partially quenched just the same."--Faux Poe

"I will myself to wish, wish I had the will--to write… I wish I could."--Faux Poe

"Your bark just might match your writing's bite, but beware biting off more than you can write."--Falsetto Prophet

I am Faux Poe, your igniter host, you are my writer ghosts:

"Write the bloody ball point goddamn Fight,

Write to, your readers, ignite

Their passions incite,

With all your grip's might, gift them insight,

Burn the bland, black bulb to bright,

With your pen, your pad, your precariously personal

The vexation of a blank page or bare screen, smite

Let your wrist tighten, your fingers type,

As you recall, recite, write and rewrite,

The madness of Inspiration invite,

Abide the musing levitation as your mind takes

In the creative pneuma of your mind's body,

Take delight;

Revise with each try,

Refine and realign,

Each piddly correction towards perfection, your war

Perfect every ponderable aspect

Your own worst critic--masquerading as an ally

Lose not sight of aforesaid delight

Scrawling on, you write, soldiering on the fight

Until your humbled by, your own, scribbled insight

You're your own source, which you cite--

And your mastery of the piece is airtight." --Falsetto Faux Poet

-Your voice for weary ears, your guide who just might save your hungry for the right word…at the right time to service fully the proper rhyme: Your preternaturally prophetic Faux Poe, Falsetto Prophet, fellow writer, igniter, inciter!

Write to Ignite, Writer Ghosts!

-Faux Poe Out!

Howdy Slick Tear Slippers,

You comprise, constitute and coalesce my throngs of both intelligent, emotional and emotionally intelligent cinematic fanatic fans--and you are legion. Is there a method to your leaking peepers or is that visual teary-eyed visage more situational and erratic? Some scenes and sequences in these slick flick s are so dramatic, climatic, emphatic and traumatic you have no choice but to bear these emotionally bludgeoning burdens traumatic, feel these sensations thematic, acknowledge those very same feelings are far from pragmatic--in fact, at times, problematic, from the painfully rheumatic to cathartic and ecstatic, is it matter over mind or rather somatic; my singular passion for emotive films remains dogmatic, at times enigmatic, but for all things cinematic I am charismatic and in my preparation for these well-thought out aural presentations both candidly passionate and wildly

As previously outlined, articulated and persuasively packaged, through each aural pleasure of Slick Flick Pick, films fascinate, they educate, they entertain, excite and, on rare but rewarding occasion, prompt us to feel, chuckle--occasionally chortle-- question life, comfort our strife, force us to reflect and correct crooked intellect, whether taking a taxing load off or tacking on burdensome emotional heft, sometimes these flicks are so tenacious, telling and true there is nothing left to emote but a well-earned, unapologetic godd*** cry.

The following filmography nexus draws an emotional link between a masterful film and its undying ability to stir, stoke and provoke creeping tear reapers behind our peepers.

The right Slick Flick Pick can morph into a slick tear slip and gift you metaphorical, cinematic wings, make you feel you can fly, others tear at your insides, break your heart, punch your gut, clutch your drawn breath, make you cry.

The following Chemohawk Sessions broadcast will encompass 4 of my Top 16 slick, teary-eye inducing moments from Slick Flick Pick: (Note some of these were previously discussed tangentially on an already posted episode, others are yet to be dissected, in full, and posted, and some, while the specific scene is worth mentioning here, the film, in its entirety, is not worthy of a Slick Flick Pick induction.

Welcome, Slick Tear Slippers to: Slick Tear Slip: Phase 3: From Slick Flick Picks to Slick Eye Slits--Celebrating Slick Tear Slip Films that Make Us Cry; Now We Can, With Depleted Tear Ducts, Die (Flicks 9-12)

The four films discussed today, speaking to the specific melancholy, inspirational or moving moments and beyond, are, in chronological order: Breaking Away, 1979, Sleepers, 1996, The Sixth Sense, 1999, The Insider, 1999.

-Your worthwhile cinephile and wide teary eyed Slick Tear Slip guide: Falsetto Prophet

*Intro/outro song, Searching for Time, courtesy of the artist, Telecasted.

Like Blake and his leper colony in John Carpenter's THE FOG, By Campfire, We Conspire-

Tonight, these two siblings who festoon their bedrooms with garlic cloves come to learn some but not near all of what their shifty neighbor's son knows.

When you are deep into your candystriper night shift, candy corn from a corny potential suitor just might bridge the otherwise deep, wide rift.

Good Evening, Match Scratchers!

"When midnight chimes, we both will meet,

Podcasting slick, sick tales to scare;

Master your fear, stoke dying heat--

Embrace the coal's glowing orange glare."

Welcome to CAMPFIRE SCARYTALES, where our campsite will affright till morning light.

If you once enjoyed, still enjoy or will enjoy henceforth, and in perpetuity, Nickelodeon's very own Are You Afraid of the Dark? broadcast that terrified tot and teen alike in the early 90's, then you will feel right at home on the forsaken rocks, atop the speaker's stone throne while occupying temporary, nocturnal space in this chillingly convenient clearing where fellow match scratchers meet to pour tales of terror upon an open flame. These terrifying testimonies are far from tame, the most unnerving, unsettling and upsetting scarytale wins the game and striking matches, along with striking deeply into your core fear gland, proves their aim. If you're soon too frightened or anxious to sleep, if you intend to scream but can nary muster a peep, if your once spry movements retard to a lumbering creep, in becoming a slave to your fears, you have but yourself to blame.

Between midnight and first light we meet, our appetites prepped for delicious tales of fright, in your own unease, crawling skin, tingled spine and sweaty brow we take delight, it will be hours before you can see anything beyond our proximal campfire light, our weekly night light, we cleared, constructed and consecrated this campsite, in our Match Scratch Society we revel in delight, it is both our sacred and unholy duty to, your fears, incite, this cold cord of wood ignite--your amygdala affright, if, by some miraculous design, you survive the scarytale of the night, then it is your solemn Campfire Scarytale duty to find your Match Scratcher ass back to this haunted hollow with your own flashlight!

Today, you are tricked or treated, depending on your point of voodoo with our eighth submission tale of terror. Between midnight and first light, strike a match and, a new batch of dismaying, fears and anxieties not allaying, tales hatch; the goal is to, the last told tale, outmatch and leave the loser, to the victor, begging for a rematch…with that Match Scratchers, sleep deeply and remember to, your bedroom window, latch.

Podcasted for the Auditory Approval of the Match Scratch Society, we whisper, through the mic, our fireside submission, sometime between midnight and first light of : Campfire Scarytales: Submission 8: Nightly, Shifty Match Scratch Society--Awkward Crosses to Wear, Shifty Neighbors to Bear (Nocturnal Shift, Shifty Neighbors); (Blood Bags, Red Flags and Toe Tags); (Nightly Neighbors/Night Shift)

Until next time, Match Scratchers!

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires, call out Campfire Scarytale imposters and disloyal match scratcher liars!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Surrender, courtesy of the artist, Asher Fulero, with a medley of sound effects added for, you guessed it, effect.

Howdy Slick Tear Slippers,

Hello again! With one Slick Tear Slip Down and 3 more to deliver to your ear canals, I hope you have resilient peepers, a box of absorbent and velveteen rabbit a** soft cloths for your tear ducts and are feeling sentimental!

You comprise, constitute and coalesce my throngs of both intelligent, emotional and emotionally intelligent cinematic fanatic fans--and you are legion. Is there a method to your leaking peepers or is that visual teary-eyed visage more situational and erratic? Some scenes and sequences in these slick flicks are so dramatic, climatic, emphatic and traumatic you have no choice but to bear these emotionally bludgeoning burdens traumatic, feel these sensations thematic, acknowledge those very same feelings are far from pragmatic--in fact, at times, problematic, from the painfully rheumatic to cathartic and ecstatic, is it matter over mind or rather somatic; my singular passion for emotive films remains dogmatic, at times enigmatic, but for all things cinematic I am charismatic and in my preparation for these well-thought out aural presentations both candidly passionate and wildly systematic.

Greetings Cinematic Fanatics and Slick Tear Slippers! As previously outlined, articulated and persuasively packaged, through each aural pleasure of Slick Flick Pick, films fascinate, they educate, they entertain, excite and, on rare but rewarding occasion, prompt us to feel, chuckle--occasionally chortle-- question life, comfort our strife, force us to reflect and correct crooked intellect, whether taking a taxing load off or tacking on burdensome emotional heft, sometimes these flicks are so tenacious, telling and true there is nothing left to emote but a well-earned, unapologetic goddamn cry.

The following filmography nexus draws an emotional link between a masterful film and its undying ability to stir, stoke and provoke creeping tear reapers behind our peepers.

Of powerful, poignant and profound flicks, I have selected 16; you will receive each slipped dose in increments of four and as each flick proves rather tearily slick, I'll shiz can the ado and light this aurally pleasing wick.

The right Slick Flick Pick can morph into a slick tear slip and gift you metaphorical, cinematic wings, make you feel you can fly, others tear at your insides, break your heart, punch your gut, clutch your drawn breath, make you cry.

The following Chemohawk Session broadcast will encompass 4 of my Top 16 slick, teary-eye inducing moments from Slick Flick Pick: (Note some of these were previously discussed tangentially on an already posted episode, others are yet to be dissected, in full, and posted, and some, while the specific scene is worth mentioning here, the film, in its entirety, is not worthy of a Slick Flick Pick induction.

There is a sweetness in sympathetic machinations and in sincere emotional reactions and ramifications to poignant cinematic stimuli.

I am your worthwhile cinephile and wide teary eyed Slick Tear Slip guide:

Welcome, Slick Tear Slippers to: Slick Tear Slip: Phase 2: From Slick Flick Picks to Slick Eye Slits--Celebrating Slick Tear Slip Films that Make Us Cry; Now We Can, With Depleted Tear Ducts, Die (Flicks 5-8)

The four films discussed today, speaking to the specific melancholy, inspirational or moving moments and beyond, are, in chronological order: The Shawshank Redemption, 1994, American History X, 1998, Road to Perdition, 2002, Moneyball, 2011.

-Your worthwhile cinephile and wide teary eyed Slick Tear Slip guide: Falsetto Prophet

 *Intro/outro song, Searching for Time, courtesy of the artist, Telecasted.