Kenny ://

More than meets the eye

Transformers, more than meets the eye. If you've seen Shawn of the Dead, you probably know how entertaining a movie that mixes action with comedy and does a good job of separating the two is really a worthwhile movie experience. Hot Fuzz was the same and I've got to admit, after seeing the Transformers movie, I think Michael Bay has done just as good a job. It's a solid 2+ hours of entertainment and wow, WOW, was it well done.

I don't think this movie could have been made before now. If, for example, it had been made in the 90's, it probably would have looked as crappy as a clay-mation movie can. Seriously, imagine Optimus Prime transforming from a big rig into a blue and red polished turd. I think that's about as good as technology would have allowed before this decade.

I might, MIGHT, even be willing to see it again.

In other news - life is about the same in my neck of the woods if you know what I mean. Quiet at home and even quieter out on the bike. I am getting back into my cathartic time each day on the bike, which is good, I think. I'm really putting in some good thinking time and coming home tired.

There's more big news on the horizon but I'll hold off on that until it's a done deal.

I heard the Oscars were sometime recently

Did Forest Gump win anything? When is there going to be a sequel to that gem? What about Titanic?

I once met someone who said their all-time favorite movies were Forest Gump and Saving Private Ryan because, and I quote, "Those movies are real, man. You don't even know what nam was like unless you've seen that movie. And inner discovery? What the hell do you think FG was all about, man? Inner discovery!"

Puh. Leeze. Dot. Com.

Zackpe and I actually did get out and see a movie this past weekend. The Number 23. If you haven't heard of it, it's got Jim Carrey and, much like Robin Williams, I much prefer him in serious roles instead of shtick roles like that crappy Ass Ventura.

To sum up, read Crime and Punishment by Fiodor Dostoyevsky, add some trauma (physical and mental) induced amnesia, some freeky deeky numerology, suicides, a loving wife and son and chop about 300 pages out of the book and you've got The Number 23. I loved it. So much so that I'm going to dig through teh boxes and boxes of books in the basement to find my tattered and well-read copy of C & P just to get back in touch with my inner Raskolnikov again.