Bed Pans & Baseball Bats
Frankenstein's monster could have lived his best life if he only had some stoner comedy writer's making up his lore. No mob could touch him. He could even get away with killing gays and persons of color and walk away unscathed. Everyone who knows him bitches about him (Mikey that is) but he is about as deaf or don't give a s**t as he is dumb (mute). I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't METoo Laurie Strode in the next film and have Michael pump and dump her right there in the hospital bed. She's about as obsessed with their brief encounter 50 years ago as Brett Kavanaugh's batshit accuser was of the time he happened to supposedly be at a house party she was at. The stoner writers will ease the tension with a p***y joke or two though. These guys should direct more than just horror and maybe start doing some Meryl Streep style dramas and dude weed them up too. It's awful type culture but at least it doesn't have the crybaby tinge of Kevin Smith or the Satanically subversive schlock of Seth Rogen still.