Why don’t I give a shit about Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Bastards? Is it because I sat through (and even partially live-blogged) his masturbatory “lecture on cinema” in Cannes––is it just too soon? Is it because I’ve seen Pulp Fiction so many times that I can no longer actually see anything in it at all? Is it because I walked out of Grindhouse saying. “Well, THAT joke isn’t funny anymore…”?

I don’t know what it is! But I know that some of you probably care, so if you haven’t already, check out Vulture’s preview/review of the script.

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