Posts Tagged ‘good’

Reviews of movie previews I watched with disdain

Monday, 25 May 2009

When I went to see Star Trek, I got hit with the endless stream of previews I’d hoped to avoid by showing up 10 minutes late to Wolverine.

I already knew Will Ferrell is a talentless asshole from his last 10 movies, so why make Land of the Lost? There wasn’t a single reaction from the sizable crowd to anything in the preview. The best “funny” line the morons who made this turd could come up with is, “Matt Lauer can suck it.” That wouldn’t be funny even if people knew who Matt Lauer is/was/whatever.

The preview for the new Terminator movie, now out and given awful reviews, also garnered no reaction from the crowd. I felt silly-assed for ever liking Terminator after seeing it. After the audio of what’s-his-face yelling at some poor shlub on the set was leaked two months ago I lost interest. Hey, Jerkoff: you’re a multi-millionaire actor and beloved Batman. No less than Ivanka Trump called you, “some kind of Adonis”. You don’t need to piss and moan over an honest mistake. People go to the movies to escape from asshole bosses yelling at them.

The only preview that got any reaction at all was the CG movie UP, which should’ve been called “The Old Jew’s Flying Balloon House”.

SkyJew* would also be a badass name for a movie, but it doesn’t yet exist. No one tell Will Fuckface Ferrell about SkyJew.

Thanks.


*(Apparently, the term “skyjew” already exists, as an anti-Semitic reference to seagulls! What a world, what a world).


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Struggling for second place

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

“I have found God, and he is insufficient.” -Henry Miller

Henry, I feel the same way. Earth is just a giant waiting room and I’d feel better as a ball of energy than a meatsack human being. This body is nothing but trouble, a festering cesspool for the ego to roll around in.

The mind is a crumpled paper airplane in a hurricane, but the ego thinks it’s a fighter jet.  The capacity for self-delusion is bottomless.  The mind is its own worst enemy; why it throws fear at itself I understand, it’s a survival mechanism. But why does the mind attack itself with doubt?

Life was brutal for the caveman but far simpler: at any given moment he was either alive and afraid or unaware and eaten. Attempts at poetry or deep thought were ended by saber-toothed tigers.  Now there’s nothing to stop bad poetry.

Sorry God, but I’m ready to go back. I won’t learn anything else here, life is all reruns now. I’m too lazy to meditate, I’d rather sleep.

I’m having trouble remembering why I didn’t commit to suicide when I was an atheist.  If it was all meaningless, why didn’t I end it?  The Satanist proclaims pleasure the greatest virtue.  I couldn’t extract pleasure out of anything except being an observer and surfing over others’ hypocrisy.  Obviously I survived.  But lived?

I was alone then, before then, and now.

My pal Hal swears if he won the lottery he’d build an underground house and never leave it.  Everything would be ordered and brought to his door.  I don’t blame him.  “Hell is other people,” is the greatest line ever written.  Everyone else with a pen or keyboard only struggles for second place while the moon shits cold fire and the women sleep with other men.



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