New Line has bought the rights to Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra, a "dishy tell-all" about Old Blue Eyes, with Brett Ratner on as producer/director and Chris Tucker "eyeing the starring role of Sinatra valet George Jacobs."
Any studio exec who still lets Brett Ratner direct movies should have his eyes taped open and be forced to watch Ratner's breakout film, Money Talks, for 20 hours straight. Which is to say that he deserves to die of sadness.
The silver lining of this shit cloud? After hearing today's news, Vegas bookies say the odds on Brett Ratner ending up somewhere in Jersey with a meat hook up his ass have jumped from 10 to 1 to even money.
I want more like this!
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