Going into this movie, I knew it would have an immediate disadvantage in my mind: I hate people who ride bikes on the street. Like they think they’re cars or something… Don’t they realize they force all cars in the right lane to drift over to the oncoming traffic lane so that we don’t murder them? Don’t they realize that they cause inconvenience to everyone just so they can do their stupid exercise routine? Bike riders are such inconsiderate people. I remember even back in college, I would be walking to class, minding my own business, and bike riders would whiz in front of me, or cut me off, and yell frantically “ON YOUR LEFT ON YOUR LEFT”. Dude, shut up, it’s 7:30 AM. Don’t yell at me about moving out of your way on a sidewalk. I don’t even want to think about the amount of times I tripped or almost tripped on a bike tire that inconsiderately went in front of me back then. And these are just casual bike riders. Turns out professional bike riders are worse…
It’s hard for me to even describe what Beasts of the Southern Wild is. In one way, it’s a coming of age story of epic proportions. Then I have to consider the fact that it’s a coming of age story about a six-year-old girl, and it no longer feels right. Then I think of it as a father/daughter bonding tale. But then I have to consider that the father was terrible at being a father, and he had an obvious disconnect with both his daughter and the gravity of the situation he put her in. Then I wonder if it’s merely a fantastical metaphor for the entire Hurricane Katrina travesty. Put then it feels too personal to be about the entire mass that experienced it. Maybe it’s just a well-mixed jambalaya of all of that (if I may get inappropriately Cajun for a second). Whatever it philosophically is, the only thing I can be sure of is that Beasts of the Southern Wild is a great movie.
How many of you have been eagerly anticipating seeing a *new* film featuring Jean-Claude Van Damme roundhouse kicking a knife into a guy’s chest? If you raised your hand, then why aren’t you buying a ticket to Expendables 2 right now?? What more do you need to hear?!
Premise: Will Ferrell has been running unopposed for four straight terms as a Carolina congressman. He’s the typical brash power-trip politician. He spits buzz phrases like “Support our troops!” at the end of every speech (just cuz), he takes bribes from overseas businesses, and he cheats on his wife (and she doesn’t care, because she’s in it for the power trip as well). But when his evil financial backers want a change, they push small town wierdo Zach Galifianakis into the mix. And it becomes a semi-brilliant, semi-retarded battle of comedy styles in what may be one of the best forgettable comedies I’ve ever seen.
One thing I truly despise is when people use convenient technology inconveniently. Self-checkout lanes at the grocery store are a perfect example. I find the self-checkout lanes to be a genius idea. It’s quite possibly the most convenient technology available for the shopping experience. If I only have a few items, I don’t want to wait in line behind some person purchasing 100 items, it’s a way for me to quickly skip the waiting process… and interacting with the cashier… and thanking the bag boy… For an antisocial lump like myself, these are things I would rather not do, even if the regular lane is wide open. I prefer almost all of my shopping experiences to have as little human interaction as possible. So a system that offers 100% self service is perfect. But that’s only if people use it correctly. Which is very often not the case.
There should be strict rules to using the self-checkout lanes at the grocery store. People of average intelligence who have used a computer in the last 10 years should theoretically have no problem using these lanes. But don’t bother using them if:
Premise: Ben Stiller is a married guy with no friends, so he starts clubs all over his suburb. When his security guard at CostCo (Stiller is the manager) gets murdered, he begins a neighborhood watch team. Only three other people join; Jonah Hill, Vince Vaughn (blech), and some guy no one has ever heard of. Turn it into an alien invasion comedy, and make sure to shoe horn an odd infertility subplot for some reason, and you’ve got The Watch.