the Crap King



The Scorpion King you ask? It was so boring and inept it sort of looked like maybe they picked someone off the street, like me, and made them the director. “Um yeah, Rock, now pick up the sword and like kick some ass. Uh, you extras run around, act like your going to kick the Rock’s ass and then let him win. Ok, Kelly, can you lower your metallic bikini bottom a little more? Is the camera on? When’s lunch?” Nearly fell asleep. Boring movies are like getting stuck on a long train ride to work without my music or reading material. And you can’t even talk to your friends sitting right next to you. Promises to be entertaining were made and broken. Oh Hollywood you lied again. Half way in I lost interest and started thinking about how there are some leaves on the trees outside my apartment windows and how it’s neat that the way they are arranged on the branches looks so nice and perfect. Each green leaf a certain distance from the other leaf. The mathematical formula in the tree’s DNA for that somehow translates in my brain to “pretty”. Is that so my caveman ancestors would be less inclined to cut them down? I also finally saw Sexy Beast on dvd. Great. What other movie has such scary and tough, middle-aged men? The opening scene looked like maybe Pam was the director. “Um yeah, British Guy, just lie there in the sun in your speedos like that. Uh, more suntan oil!” On the way back from Evanston we stopped at a Russian (Georgian) bakery on Devon that I had no idea existed. They had freshly made pastry puffs that were smeared inside with farmers cheese. Melted in your mouth. Nice experience for me after reading that Harper’s mag’s article on how well you can eat in Russia now. Despite my Chinese food rants, Chicago has some good eats. And trees.

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