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Still little to report. I made some headway on my SPNfic, but not as much as I wanted to or should have done. Perhaps tonight will be better since I am bolstered by Sprite, cookies from Classic Cookie, and Nerds. Then again, the rains that have threatened all day could finally come and thwart my plans. In truth, we need the rain. I just wish the lightning wasn't part of the deal.
Roomie wanted to see Live Free or Die Hard, and since I so foolishly and cruelly subjected him to 1408, I went as a gesture of atonement. I sat through twenty minutes of ads and previews, a new record, and the movie started eighteen minutes late.
You know, I remember when the theaters first introduced ads. They swore that the introduction of these ads would generate much-needed revenue for the theaters without passing increased cost to the consumer through higher ticket prices. "We have products. Let us show you them," was their mantra. "And if you let us show you them," they went on, "we will not rip another quarter from your bleeding, much-abused asshole and call it commerce."
Filthy liars. Tickets cost two dollars more now than they did eight years ago, and the the price of Digital 3D tickets is $10.75 per adult. These increases have come well after the inclusion of pre-show advertising was supposed to stabilize costs. So I get no benefit from this advertising, and the shows for which I have paid do not start at the specified time. Screw you, corporate America.
The movie was brainless fun, and it wastes no time with foreplay. There are explosions within one minute of the opening credits, and it never really stops. There is a plot involving hackers and cyberterrorists, but who cares? It's fun stupid, loud, obnoxious, quintessentially American eyecandy. And a scrumptious bit of Arabic or Middle-Eastern man crumpet, too. Rawr. I wish I knew his name. He was in a movie with Tony Shaloub, Annette Bennig, and Denzel Washington some years back, but its name escapes me.
Well, to the trenches with me.
Roomie wanted to see Live Free or Die Hard, and since I so foolishly and cruelly subjected him to 1408, I went as a gesture of atonement. I sat through twenty minutes of ads and previews, a new record, and the movie started eighteen minutes late.
You know, I remember when the theaters first introduced ads. They swore that the introduction of these ads would generate much-needed revenue for the theaters without passing increased cost to the consumer through higher ticket prices. "We have products. Let us show you them," was their mantra. "And if you let us show you them," they went on, "we will not rip another quarter from your bleeding, much-abused asshole and call it commerce."
Filthy liars. Tickets cost two dollars more now than they did eight years ago, and the the price of Digital 3D tickets is $10.75 per adult. These increases have come well after the inclusion of pre-show advertising was supposed to stabilize costs. So I get no benefit from this advertising, and the shows for which I have paid do not start at the specified time. Screw you, corporate America.
The movie was brainless fun, and it wastes no time with foreplay. There are explosions within one minute of the opening credits, and it never really stops. There is a plot involving hackers and cyberterrorists, but who cares? It's fun stupid, loud, obnoxious, quintessentially American eyecandy. And a scrumptious bit of Arabic or Middle-Eastern man crumpet, too. Rawr. I wish I knew his name. He was in a movie with Tony Shaloub, Annette Bennig, and Denzel Washington some years back, but its name escapes me.
Well, to the trenches with me.
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