Hit Me Once, Shame on Me...
This weekend I saw Master and Commander. So now I am here to repent. I am not ashamed of having seen this film, but I am embarrassed by my motivations. You see, from the beginning, I suspected that Master and Commander would be a historically accurate shit storm. Not to mention the star-turn of Russell "I'll punch you if you call me a bad actor" Crowe. But then, surprisingly, it got rave reviews throughout the mainstream media. Respected film critics were calling it a return to the sweeping magnificence of David Lean, etc, etc. A similar thing happened upon the release of Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, which I saw the day it came out. In this instance I was pleasantly surprised by a film I anticipated to make me purchase a ticket to Paris in order to stab Johnny Depp in the eye, and found soon after that the reviewers were also pleased. So when Master and Commander garnered the approval of these same reviewers I thought maybe they were on to something.
High on something is more like it.
I like a good pirate movie, and I also like war movies, and I also like movies in which young children have arms amputated, and if you have read much of this journal then you know that I hate the French [(who are just jealous that we live in the Greatest Country on Earth, the United States of America, while they are forced to live in France), (see entry: France C'est L'ennemi Number One)] but this movie was reminiscent of the time I tasted shampoo at the food co-op because I thought it was the bulk honey dispenser. I threw up onto others, and then I went home and threw up by myself.
How could someone as sophisticated and singularly intelligent as myself have been so easily bamboozled by anyone with dreadlocks named Elvis (you hear me Genius Times? get that fucker a haircut)? How could I possibly think that a man from a country founded by convicts could do anything but rob me of two precious hours of my life? Do not punch me Russell Crowe, but you are the king of schlock. Even Hugh Grant thinks you're kind of a putz. And he left his hot fiance to sleep with whores.
Anyhow, I just wanted to express my extreme disappointment in myself, and apologize for having seen a Russell Crowe vehicle. To think I could have given that money to charity, or used it to buy razor blades to kill myself. To think that The Cat in the Hat was playing in the very same cineplex!
High on something is more like it.
I like a good pirate movie, and I also like war movies, and I also like movies in which young children have arms amputated, and if you have read much of this journal then you know that I hate the French [(who are just jealous that we live in the Greatest Country on Earth, the United States of America, while they are forced to live in France), (see entry: France C'est L'ennemi Number One)] but this movie was reminiscent of the time I tasted shampoo at the food co-op because I thought it was the bulk honey dispenser. I threw up onto others, and then I went home and threw up by myself.
How could someone as sophisticated and singularly intelligent as myself have been so easily bamboozled by anyone with dreadlocks named Elvis (you hear me Genius Times? get that fucker a haircut)? How could I possibly think that a man from a country founded by convicts could do anything but rob me of two precious hours of my life? Do not punch me Russell Crowe, but you are the king of schlock. Even Hugh Grant thinks you're kind of a putz. And he left his hot fiance to sleep with whores.
Anyhow, I just wanted to express my extreme disappointment in myself, and apologize for having seen a Russell Crowe vehicle. To think I could have given that money to charity, or used it to buy razor blades to kill myself. To think that The Cat in the Hat was playing in the very same cineplex!