Don't be buggin'. I don't even know what buggin' is, but don't be doing it. I've got bits and pieces for you to read and click on and so forth. And if you stick around to the end of the post, there's a nice photo of bananas in it for you.
Most movies these days are pretty terrible. You know it, I know it, and most importantly, the movie studio knows it. They know that you’ve just thrown down precious moneys for 90-150 minutes of familiar people doing generally predictable stuff that will make you vaguely regret your life choices – or at least, the ones that led you to this darkened room full of flickering light and the sounds of popcorn being chewed by a hundred hungry mouths.
In order to cover for the almost certainly not-so-great experience you’re about to have, movies generally save the best for first: a kick-ass opening followed by a truly inspired title sequence. Often title sequences are done by an entirely separate firm, with their own budget and creative direction and everything. Their mission? Create something eye-popping and pulse-stirring that generates enough goodwill and adrenaline to keep the audience in their seats until they forget they have a choice.
For Just 139 Dollars You Can Feed a Hungry George Lucas:
George grew up in California and gained some renown as a filmmaker back in the 1970s. But now he wanders the grounds of Skywalker Ranch, living like an animal, foraging for nuts and berries where he can find them. The caretakers, no longer able to recognize their filth-covered employer, shoo him away from the house when he comes sniffing around the property. Perhaps he is drawn by a long-lost memory of a comfortable bed and a Barcalounger. But more likely he’s just drawn by the smell of food wafting from the kitchen.
CAPE CANAVERAL — After 15 years and over $10 billion in taxpayer’s money, Project Extreme Cosmic Discovery, the most extensive probe of the universe ever conducted, has demonstrated conclusively that space is completely full of junk.
“It’s unbelievable, really,” said senior NASA administrator Charles Bollerheim. “We thought for sure that something wonderful lay beyond the fragile envelope of our atmosphere. Something that would reveal the secrets of the universe and maybe answer the questions that humanity has been asking for thousands of years.
“But yeah, it’s just a bunch of rocks and gas and stuff.”
And lastly, from the print world - prairie dog Magazine:
The Hickory: A tale of love, hate and adequacy (Restaurant review)
If you dare, try reading the aggregate of opinions on the Hickory Smokehouse and Grill, where, according to Urban Spoon, you can enjoy 1.) a delightful meal in a tasteful setting, or 2.) the most horrendous experience of your short little life. Some of the missives are sent off in quick-fried bursts from a smartphone, but a few are the outcome of finely chopped, long-simmering resentment. Most dismaying are the semi-professional takedowns: reviews that appear to have been written by someone in the restaurant industry. With their reliance on jargon and a habit of using 'plate' as both noun and verb, they're easy to spot and difficult to read.
Although none of the negative reviews come out and say it, they all hint at the Hickory Smokehouse's greatest weakness: flanked by The Cottage and The Keg - and occupying the same space as the old Keg restaurant - the Hickory does almost nothing to distinguish itself from its neighbours.
Okay, folks, you did it! Here are your bananas. I used natural light from the window to really bring out their banana-ness. Then I processed the RAW file, deepened the contrast and added in a bit of blue to counteract all that banana-ness a bit. Then Schmutzie ate one. Then I lost interest.