Monday, May 31, 2004

Du-nun. . .du-nun. . .dun..dun..dun...dun...dun

Yeesh. Those three unwise men aboard Orca, chasing down a great white shark? Talk about clueless! Bad enough Quint never listens when I tell him to hang on to Brody just a little tighter. Or that Hooper keeps insisting on getting into that stupid tinfoil cage even though I've shouted at him time and time again just to keep his ass in the boat.

And Brody? Well, who goes out on a boat when they hate water? Nobody. That's who. Yet whenever I remind him of this little factoid, he ignores me. Snide bastard.

Fine, if they think they're so smart they don't need to listen. No legs off my body. Whatever.

But you'd think at least one of 'em would realize whenever they hear that music start that the shark is coming? It's Jaws' theme song - as safe a herald of his (her?) arrival as the strains of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik would indicate Mozart was en route, dragging a few yellow barrels behind him.

It's like they have no sense of pop culture whatsoever!

No wonder the shark outsmarts them.

I propose a new interactive form of entertainment, where I can sit in front of the tv and the movie cast will do what I tell them. Not only will it save lives, but it'll help actors stay fresh, unpredictable and squeezably soft.
Ah, much like the pretty blonde thing with her bikini top on, going down the dark basement steps to investigate a noise. Go ahead, sweetheart. Go look. Perfect time for my Pepsi break, while you're getting your pretty lil head massacred by a machete. Cheers.
Moon, I truly do foresee a day when what happens on television is dictated via some sort of technology - much like those horrible reality shows, only on an individual basis. At which point it'll be time to give up the remote forever.
That will leave my ex husband scratchin' his head... which will give his balls a nice vacation, I guess. *shrug*
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