Categories: Commentary, Humor, Rants

Allow me to detail to you some of the significant events of my day. Allow me.

So I leave my estate, which is located atop a hill in the middle of a rolling meadow (I am a Republican, after all, which means I live the life of luxury, sucka), so I can go see War of the Worlds. I bid my gardener good evening and tell my driver, "To the theatre!" Along the way I was fortunate enough to witness a sexy lawn mower ride. Imagine, if you will, two extremely hot and supple young women, wearing string bikinis, their golden skin glistening under the hot sun, and straddling one another as they mow the lawn. "Pull over, Jeeves," says I to the driver.

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As I approach the young ladies, I can tell that they can tell I'm filthy rich. I whisper naughtiness into the ear of one of the girls. She then whispers into the ear of her very sexy companion. I've no idea what she said, but giggling could be heard. Hot, sexy giggling. They leave their tops on, but the bottoms come off, because that's just plain hot. What a lucky, lucky lawn mower seat. I inquire as to my chances of joining these two fine female specimens on their sexy lawn mower ride. "Only if you think you can fit," says the hot one. The other hot one continues to giggle. I don't know what was up with that.

I'm about to mount the lawn mower when I remember Jeeves, my driver. I look over and see him peering through the car window, puppy dog like with the big eyes and everything, and he's got to be thinking to himself, "Please, kind sir, there are two of them. Mightn't you share?" And then I remember the movie. I really want to see this movie and time is a wasting.

Well, there's still two months of summer left, so this opportunity is certain to present itself again. But the opening weekend Saturday matinee for War of the Worlds will only happen once. Ever.

"I'm sorry, ladies," I say as I'm zipping up my pants. "I've got a movie to see and you've got a lawn to mow. Another time and another place, this might have turned out differently. It's not you, it's me." I give them no time to object or giggle or puppy dog eye me. I turn my back to them, toss behind me a couple business cards, and leave. "To the theatre!"

We arrive at the theatre. "Wait in the car, Jeeves," I say as I exit the vehicle. I've got a movie theatre gift card burning a hole in my pocket. What the crap? There's a line. A freaking line. Screw that. I head over to the automated machine. You know, the one where you don't have to actually deal with another human being. Terrific devices they are, only they only take credit cards. So I actually have to pay my way in. Fine then, it's only a matinee.

I've got my ticket and enter the proper room. Or I at least try to. But I'm stuck behind three extremely sloven and lazy people. They are, in no particular order, a woman so fat her ankles have to be made of reinforced titanium in order to support her rotund self, a fat, probably mildly retarded child whose sex has yet to be determined, and a redneck who looks like he tried, really tried to join the Hell's Angels, but instead got an ass beating for showing up on a Yamaha. A Yamaha! Anyway, this group of rejects moves at a pace so slow the earth is actually moving faster, which makes them go backwards. I get fed up with this B.S. and push the retarded child to the ground. I quickly jump over the kid and find myself a seat.

Dammit, I've missed the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory trailer, which I really wanted to see. Really. The other trailers were mostly forgettable, and as a result, I don't remember what they were. Except one. Into the Blue. This movie looks to be a total crapfest. Except for one thing. It stars the amazingly hot Jessica Alba, who may be, as the Artist formerly known as Prince and who is once again known as Prince would put it, the most beautiful girl in the world. She's even hotter than the lawn mower chicks, who, now that I think about it, may have been sisters, which makes the above tale even hotter. Go ahead and read it again with this new knowledge. I'll wait. ... See? It's hotter, isn't it? Yeah, that's the stuff.

Anyway, back to what I was trying to tell you. Into the Blue looks like a total crapfest, except that it stars the very fine Jessica Alba, who may be, as Prince would put it, the most beautiful girl in the world. I mean, seriously, she's that hot. The girl must start fires as she walks around. You know, men's pants, even the gay ones, must freaking burst into flames when she gets near. I saw it happen in the theatre. Dude was sitting there, watching Jessica "I'm wearing a small bikini" Alba swimming in the blue (the movie's term for water, not mine), doing this wiggling thing with her body that is so not necessary for swimming, but I would recommend she continue doing it, if only for my own personal pleasure, and suddenly, and without warning, his pants just burst into flames. They should put warnings on these trailers.

So yeah, the movie looks like a total crapfest. But that girl is so freaking hot in that movie, I might have to see it. I'm conflicted. See, I managed to avoid Honey. But this. This I don't think I can resist. But first I'll need to get myself a pair of fire proof pants. Something in a nice shade of pleather.

Movie time! We're here to see War of the Worlds, which I must warn you, does not star the incredibly hot Jessica Alba. You'll instead have to settle for Tom Cruise or Dakota Fanning depending on whether you lean more toward being a gay man or a child molester, you know, if you're a dude. If you're a female, and some of you are, you've got your Tom Cruise, who is now crazy BTW, which should be enough for you. Because it's Tom Cruise, who I hear even ultra famous lesbian Rosie O'Donnell enjoys. Good enough for the bull dyke, good enough for you, I always say. Moving on.

What I have to say here might enter the range of spoiler material, so those of you who don't want the movie to be, you know, spoiled should go out and watch the movie first, then come back here and read the rest of my short, yet rambling, review to find out whether or not it's worth your time and precious gems to go out and view this movie in a theatre, rather than sitting at home wearing nothing but a sock on your johnson whilst downloading the movie and a shitload of porn (or pr0n, as the kiddiez say it) and Mandy Moore MP3s and yet another video of that damn Star Wars Kid, only this time he's an astronaut doing his thing on the moon!

So Tom Cruise is this dude who has two childrens and a baby mama who's married to this other dude. The kids love new daddy better than real daddy. This is intended to create some drama between the kids and Tom Cruise, because the drama of an alien invasion is just not enough. So baby mama leaves the kids with Tom Cruise. Why? Because they're going to visit family in Boston where, apparently, kids are not allowed. So Tom Cruise gets them. What follows is fifteen minutes of child rearing gone wrong. The son won't do his homework and the daughter orders some sort of disgusting food and manages to pay for it, even though she has no discernible source of income. She must be a Democrat. I kid, I kid. Then the son, who is not on his best behavior, steals Tom Cruise's car, which he loves more than his kids.

Now, enter the freak lightning storm, which, if you've got a brain, you'll realize immediately is not your everyday lightning, but is created by the aliens. It's uses are threefold. 1. It scares the bejesus out of people. 2. It is a transportation vehicle for the aliens to get to their ships which are located deep below the surface of the earth and have been for millions of years. Apparently. 3. It sends out an electromagnetic pulse, which fries all electronics, thus rendering them useless. That means no power, no cars, and no wristwatches. It seems, however, it does not disable video cameras, because this dude is using one to film the alien invaders as they bust out of the ground. He was probably going to sell the tape to Hard Copy or something, but his plans were nullified by an alien death ray which vaporizes all who dare cross its path. The video camera managed to survive, so maybe some lucky chap will happen upon it and get rich selling the footage to Hard Copy.

So as the aliens go around zapping people and buildings Tom Cruise manages to avoid them. He's a really lucky guy, you see. He goes home, finds himself covered in the ashes of dead people and freaks out a bit. He then washes up, gathers his kids, and steals a car (like son like father) which has had its solenoids replaced and is thus the only working car in the area. He somehow manages to drive through the streets and highways, which are littered with dead cars, yet have a path through which Tom Cruise can drive, and he goes to his ex-wife's house, where, as of yet, nothing bad has happened. But it will. After a fight about peanut butter sammiches, they decide to sleep in the basement (where it is safer and you'll find out why soon enough). That is not without father daughter drama, because the little princess wants to sleep in her own damn bed, thank you very much. But, as Tom Cruise states, this is a nice basement.

During the night, it seems as though the aliens have arrived to destroy this very nice neighborhood (certainly occupied by well to do Republicans). Tom Cruise and his children sleep in fear. In the morning it turns out it was simply a plane crash. The plane just happened to crash on their house. What are the odds? A team of news reporters is out examining the remains. One of them is a deaf black guy. See how they did that? Two minority roles filled by just one actor. That's terrific. Good looking out, Steven Spielberg. After one of the news reporters explains to Tom Cruise just what the hell is going on, they leave. Jerks.

Tom Cruise and family leave the place, because it is ruined. They do so by hopping in the stolen car, which was not crushed by the airplane, and driving down the road on that path Tom Cruise seems to always find, which has nothing blocking the way. They stop for a potty break, during which Tom Cruise Jr. tries to join the army, but is soundly rejected. Worry not, he'll get another chance later on.

They make it to a large crowded area, get mobbed and car jacked, and then meet up with an old friend, who seems to have time for formalities, despite all the running away from the aliens she should be doing. Then they manage to get onto a boat, which is leaving now even though it can hold more people. Some poor folks manage to grab onto the side of the boat ramp and hang on as the boat speeds away. Junior decides to be a hero and he saves these people from falling. And then an alien ship, which is being very mean, tips the boat over, sending Tom Cruise and pals Into the Blue (see how I tied those things together? I'm a clever bastard indeed).

Tom Cruise and his resourceful kids manage to swim to shore and then avoid some more alien attacks. Then they encounter the army. Junior enlists after a fight with his pops, Tom Cruise, and then appears to be blown up, mere seconds later. Tom Cruise gets an invite from a strange man to stay with him in his basement. Of course Tom Cruise's daughter is more than welcome to join them.

The dude they're staying with gets drunk on peach schnapps, explains how they're going to fight back and win armed with only an axe and a shotgun, and then explains to Tom Cruise's daughter, who is ten, how he will take care of her if something were to happen to her daddy. Very creepy. Tom Cruise puts a stop to the future love fest by explaining to Captain Creepy that he has nothing to say to his daughter. All conversation is to be had only with Tom Cruise. Then a mechanical alien eye serpent enters the place and does some searching. All three humans enter stealth mode and do some damn good hiding. Once the eye finds the coast to be clear, some aliens enter and decide to have a look around. They're enjoying themselves just fine until the bell rings and shore leave is over. They leave.

Next we find the real reason the aliens are here. They want to take our bodies, grind them up, and then spray the guts all over the freaking place. They're hanging from trees, running down the sides of houses, forming blood rivers in the streets. It's crazy, I tell you. This freaks out Captain Creepy and he morphs into Captain Crazy. "Not my blood!" he shouts over and over, as he digs a tunnel to nowhere. Tom Cruise has had enough, so he kills our friend, the Captain. He and his daughter go to sleep, only to be awakened by another mechanical eye serpent. Tom Cruise goes to town with an axe, which, surprisingly, works. Missile launchers don't work, but axes do. Captain Creepy was on to something.

During the axe fight, daughter Cruise runs outside. Why? I dunno. Anyway, she gets abducted. The aliens are into that now. Vaporizing is so last year. Tom Cruise finds a car, grabs some grenades inside (how convenient!) and gets abducted, too. Abductees are stored in Easter baskets which hang below the ships. He is reunited with his daughter, and then he is selected. For what, might you ask? He's to be turned into gut spray. This time, the people in the baskets aren't going to take it anymore. They grab hold of Tom Cruise and pull him from the grasp of the alien birth canal that does the selecting and gut sprayifying. When he's safely back in the Easter basket, he reveals that the grenades have been properly inserted into the alien ship. The ship blows up and they all escape. To Boston.

Upon arriving in Boston, they discover the alien ships have gone bonkers. Nobody seems to know why. But now that they have, birds can land on them, which opens them up to being destroyed by rocket launchers, which didn't work previously because they are not axes. Once the world is safe from the alien invaders, Tom Cruise and daughter find his ex and her family, and, believe it or not, Tom Cruise Jr. who was not, in fact, blown up (how convenient!).

Then Morgan Freeman, who is heard, but not seen in this movie (good looking out, Steven Spielberg), explains what happened. Our bacteria, parasites, and Super AIDS, which we are all immune to, are deadly poisons to the aliens. They all got sick and died. Their space ships are run on love, and when the aliens die, so does the love. That opens them up to attack from non-axe items such as rocket launchers and sling shots. Go figure.

So what did I think of it? This movie was fantastic! Go see it in the theatre, and then purchase a bootleg copy to hold you over until the DVD comes out, which is sure to be fabulous and probably one of those super-duper two disc collector's editions. Tell a buddy and bring a friend!

But wait! There's more! My day did not end there! After leaving the theatre, I got in my car. "To the party!" I shout to my driver, who is named Jeeves, in case you've forgotten. We arrive at the party. "Wait in the car, Jeeves," I say as I exit the vehicle. I set up camp, because I am staying the night, despite having a driver. Then your typical party things happen.

When sun sets, the real fun begins. Fireworks. It's time to blow up the sky. We're Americans and we have every right. Every right. So we make with the booms for a couple hours and then the cops arrive. Now, this is quite odd because the cops never come to this place. We've shot stuff. We've blown stuff up. We've played with fireworks here for years. There were never any cops. Until now.

Somebody complained. Who would do such a thing? I'll tell you who: somebody who hates America, that's who. We're out here celebrating our freakin' freedom and some liberal hippie Communist America-hating Democrat sissy bastard calls the cops to shut us down. I'm going to get a bit vulgar here, so you sensitive types should avert your eyes.

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I'm sorry, but FUCK YOU. Who the FUCK do you think you are, MOTHER FUCKER? Who the FUCK calls the FUCKING cops on people FUCKING shooting FUCKING fireworks on FUCKING Independence Day weekend? Get a FUCKING life. Get the FUCK out of my FUCKING country you FUCKING Commie prick. I FUCKING swear this to you, MOTHER FUCKER, if I ever FUCKING find out who the FUCK you are, you will FUCKING die. I'm not FUCKING kidding. I will take my FUCKING knife and FUCKING gut you. I hope you FUCKING have kids because I want them to FUCKING watch me remove your FUCKING entrails which I will use to FUCKING decorate your FUCKING house like they were FUCKING Christmas lights. What the FUCK?

I can understand calling the cops during the week on some random non-Independence Day day, but during Independence Day weekend, people shoot fireworks into the sky. Any jackass who can't appreciate that does not deserve to live here. Plain and simple.

So the cop, who was just doing her job, lets us off with a warning. No fine. But now we've got a ton of fireworks that haven't been used. Fortunately, we've secured another location to launch our colorful boom lights and we will be doing so tonight. And I dare somebody to call the cops this time. I dare them.

The party wasn't a total bust. We did some good drinkin' and I don't even have a hangover. If I did, this post would be nowhere near the length it is. I was, of course, the last to go to sleep, because I am a party animal and refuse to miss a thing.

In the morning I woke up, went out to breakfast with my friends, and then had Jeeves drive me home. Along the way we passed the lawn where I encountered the sexy mower sisters. The lawn was fully mowed and there were no more sisters. The only evidence of the encounter was a piece of fabric from one of the bikini bottoms which somehow got shredded in the lawn mower. "Pull over, Jeeves," says I to the driver. I get out, collect the fabric and return to the vehicle. "To the Jack Cave!" I shout to Jeeves. We arrive at home. "Wait in the car, Jeeves," I say as I exit the vehicle. I approach my front door, and then a thought enters my mind. I head back toward the car. I hand Jeeves the bikini fabric and say, "Keep up the good work, my good man." Jeeves smiles. I've made his day. Good looking out, Jackington Viego.

There's your freaking beef.