The dust has settled and the summer movie season has limped in to the dumping ground of August, and who is the king?
That would be me.
Fun fact, the summer is limping right now because I fucked it into submission, and there’s an awesome chance I might have completely restructured how the summer’s hips work due to my erotic slamming.
I dominated America. I dominated it.
I almost won overseas except for Pirates of the Caribbean: Captain Depp Wears Eyeliner and Pretends He’s a Rockstar. Which is fine. If that’s what the rest of the savages populating the world love in a movie, I’m happy, so very, very, very happy to not be what those assholes want.
I know; I didn’t please the people who gave us Coldplay, Radiohead, and where the punchline for every joke is someone wearing a dress or awkward silence. “Oh, boo-hoo, France, who already thinks we suck, only approves of some bisexual dynamo giving hairless young men in uniform syphilis and ass scurvy.”
Holy shit, where did May go? I did not write nearly as much as I had planned for ACTION MOVIE MAY.
Well, fuck it, we’re getting at least one more Bay up this piece.
It’s no secret that I am the undisputed King of Summer. Every other year like a ripped out, sun-kissed, charmingly stubbled Santa Claus, I come down the chimney of Spring to drop my precious, precious payload of adrenarone (when adrenaline knocks up testosterone) onto your eyes, into your brain, and then to your chest where it replaces your heart.
The only other person who makes as much money in the summer is Will Smith, and he works for me anyway. Shit, he’s sat out the last four years, probably because he was waiting for me to hit him back up after his movie about giving people his livers got no one off. It seems like only yesterday when we made a movie where the Miami PD invaded a sovereign nation, blew it up, and drove an H3 through a shanty town as the most personal “fuck you” on the entire planet.
Goddamn it, I miss that guy.
When I’m not busy changing the entire game with blockbuster after blockbuster, I usually go to Thailand and hunt people, but Thailand’s slowly getting it’s shit together so I’m going to wait and see which way the wind blows in the next couple of years down that way.
For now, I’m going to start hiring myself out to productions so those summers I don’t have something out my presence will still be felt, and the unwashed masses will have something to do besides soil themselves in and around Wal-Marts.
Like drugs, sex, and cases of .50 cal., the first one’s free, so I’m going to break down all the important releases this summer to give the studios a taste of what I can do with no rules and 15 minutes to kill. Read the rest of this entry
Maybe he’ll be played by Bill Mahr, or the dude that played Draco in Harry Potter. Yeah, make him younger. Make him a sweet, sexy hacker dude. Hack the planet. Oh, that’s already been used? Hack your life. Good, kids like being in charge of their own personal destiny now. They’ll dig that.
Every bit’s in place. The stunning reveals of conspiracy and hidden information, perhaps starting with the dramatic April 2010 reveal of footage from a July 2007 Baghdad airstrike. Something that draws the viewer’s sympathy much the way it did the public’s. There’s no way a man who reveals that innocents were gunned down can be seen as a bad guy.
What would it take for you to dislike Wikileaks? What information could be released for you to say, “Hold up, White Hair. I did not need to know what was in Edward Norton’s sex diary”. Read the rest of this entry