Oh, f'it, let’s actually talk about the film FIGHT CLUB @ Twenty - still the smartest delinquent in the room - with the man whose book-as-rolling-ball-of-art-and-confusion began a movie birthed by an apropos society of full-throated artists: Chuck Palahniuk. The film still can’t drink, but it’s no less a danger to society. Its meta and mythos are more than meets the eye, and its fever-pitch lives in Chuck’s own agnostic baptisms. Write what you know, perhaps; film what’s to remain, please. Oh, and, slide.