This is a fitting parody of an obviously bright and perceptive but notoriously crabby, internet-hating critic. Not as funny as FakeArmond, which has a jauntier put-on attitude, but worthy of a man called a “sourpuss supreme” by Vanity Fair‘s James Wolcott.

“The problem with the old guard [of film critics] is they want to talk about the actual film,” VF talkbacker wrote on 6.30.10. “There’s hardly much point in critiquing an art form that has already eaten itself. There was once a time when movies reflected the collective conscious and then served it back to audiences in order to stretch minds. That was the crux of entertainment — it informed and illuminated brains. Now, studio executives produce movies to feed collective baby-food appetites so devoid of nutrition that nothing grows. Digestion, deconstruction or analysis is not why people seek out this art any longer. In order to awaken a mind to the joy of anti-monarchist thinking, they have to still possess the delusion that being intelligent is an improvement on living. Good luck with that [nowadays].”