Workin' It Out

Been awhile, so I thought I'd bring a friend along. However, since I can never remember whether you clowns like my friends with large...uhmmm....talents, or whether you prefer the more...athletic...(petite?)...sorts, I went ahead and invited one of each:

Yer welcome. As expected, however, and even in the face of an impassioned plea by Gekko, The Beneficiary got all pissy and won't let me pose for any more pictures with nuns, or anything else, for that matter, so we're just gonna have to stick with redheads and scumbag politicians:






I was watching "Bones" earlier this evening. This is the episode wherein the hot, babelicious forensic anthropologist (yeah, I know, we've all dated 'em) learns from the hardcore studmuffin FBI dude that presenting facts to a jury doesn't win cases. More to the point, you don't need any facts whatsoever to win in front of an American jury. You just have to look good, make them feel warm and fuzzy, and inspire them to Do The Right Thing Even If The Other Side Has The Facts. Jury consultants call this "Whuppin' the Obama on 'em."

There's probably some desperately important political statement waiting to be developed here, but instead I watched what is, hands down, the worst movie EVER which, if you know me, makes it completely irresistible and FAR more important than some negro Jimmy Carter wannabe making a run for it.

The movie is titled "Meteorites!"

[Note the exclamation point, which is actually part of the title and which presages the quality, high-end entertainment experience which you're about to have. It is also easily the most exciting part of the movie.]

The big names starring in this epic are Tom Wopat, Roxanne Hart, Darrin Klimek, Abby Meates, Pato Irwin, and Marshall Napier.

The rest of the cast are unknowns.

It turns out that the Navy doing the death-star hit on that sickly spy satellite the other day was a great idea, 'cause according to this movie, junk falling out of the sky will always hit the bridge you're about to cross, the hospital room you're hanging out in or, at an absolute minimum, all the abandoned cars full of dynamite your town also probably has parked all over the place in random locations.





Puny Spy Satellite That Needed Put Down
In fact, after spending a few million years traveling a gadzillion miles at Warp 3, hundreds of pieces of rock will not only take the statistically near-zero step of hitting the planet at ALL, but will go to the extra length of landing in the 100 square foot chunk of Earth occupied by a van made out of C-4 or, alternately, bad guys pointing guns at people.






Now, if you're a hero sort, when God's pea-shooter starts mashing your little Arizona town one teeny chunk at a time you'll talk the entire town population into following you to an abandoned mine to get out of the hailstorm of deadly accurate space crap.

This would seem to be a pretty good bet as, faced with not only the near-impossible chore of meteor-smacking the mine entrance dead-on, the universe is also challenged by the necessity of timing the strike just so -- but this is no ordinary universe you're fucking with here. This is a batshit-psychotic EVIL universe, and is more than up to the task. A meteorite will land on the mine entrance within a 10-second window -- just in time to block you out, leaving you and the populace outside, where you'll be easy pickings in the galactic duck-shoot.

Fortunately, it'll turn out that one of the people who followed you to the mine will have brought a flatbed full of fireworks with him. And you'll also be an explosives expert with a back story involving bombs, dead partners, guilt, and an Indian police chief.

No, wait, the Indian police chief is a town good-guy and hero-supporter/meteor battler. Guess I should have said something about him earlier. I also didn't talk about the hero-guy's teen aged son who rides a dirt bike and spends his spare time boffing the evil mayor's daughter who looks kinda dykey to me, but it doesn't matter 'cause they get kidnapped by burglars who later get squashed by a meteor. Speaking of daughters, the hero's daughter wins the town's annual beauty contest, and spends the rest of the movie (I'm not making this up) wearing a "Miss UFO" sash. Nor did I bring up the hero's wife whose main function is to look at him with eyes glowing with love and being such an unbelievably all-round supportive spouse that it's a wonder he didn't eventually go nuts and wind up stuffing her battered corpse into a drainage culvert out in the desert somewhere.

It's a rich tapestry of fine acting.

Did I mention the fireworks?

I hope so, 'cause you'll have five minutes to use them to make a bomb to blow up the 2500 tons of granite now blocking the mine entrance (even though the wall of rock at first glance looks like it would withstand a direct nuke hit, never mind a bang from a bunch of uncompressed black-powder extracted from bottle-rockets and roman candles) and just in the nick of time, too, as exactly 4 picoseconds after the last townsperson enters the mine, the entire rest of the universe will break up into VW-Beetle-sized pieces and fall on the desert around the entrance (but not actually hitting the entrance again,) thereby kicking the DAWG-shit out of it (the desert).

I think it was a documentary.

In Our Next Episode: Crap, now I wanna watch "Plan 9 From Outer Space" again. Another weekend right in the toilet.