We had a big-ass snowstorm over the weekend so I took the girlies sledding. It’s just a baby hill. No potential for injury or need for a helmet. Or so I thought. Then I ran across this poor little victim of an obviously horrific crash. Awful! Her face and skull looked like they were dragged under the sled for a few hundred feet. And that dislocated shoulder? My God!
Later that evening I had this niggling feeling that I’d seen that kind of injury once before. And it suddenly dawned on me. That’s the same injury that poor Ronnie Cox suffered in the movie Deliverance!
Speaking of movies, here’s why the Academy didn’t ask for my vote.
Amour. What is that? It’s about an elderly couple, right? I didn’t see it. And I probably won’t
Argo. Really good except for the contrived ending. Do you really think the Iranian militia chased a plane down the runway as it was taking off? I believe in giving a director full dramatic license but give me a break. Do you remember when Ben Affleck used to be a joke? Right after the Gigli fiasco and his marriage to Jennifer Lopez imploded, his name became a punch line. During that period, a play called Matt & Ben was a big hit at the Downtown Fringe Festival. The premise was that there’s NO POSSIBLE WAY Affleck and Damon could have written the Oscar-winning script for Good Will Hunting. The play fronted the theory that the script actually fell from the heavens and landed at their feet, which was depicted. A script was dropped from the theater rafters and landed at the feet of the two actors playing Affleck and Damon (who were women, by the way). Now look at Ben! Directing one great film after another!
Django Unchained. Didn’t see it. He’s a great director but I bailed out on Tarantino a long time ago because of his trademark unrelenting blood and violence. Did you see Reservoir Dogs? That scene where the cop’s ear was cut off? That sickened me. It’s a shame I’m such a big baby because I’d really like to see Inglorious Bastards.
Zero Dark Thirty. Didn’t see it. Won’t see it. I heard there’s a fairly graphic torture sequence. That stuff gets under my skin and stays with me for a very long time. During my long nights when I’m starring at the ceiling and being tormented by all the black muck inside my head, I start to imagine the people I love in the torture scenes. It’s just awful. I wish I was normal but I’m badly damaged.
Lincoln. Really Fucking Important. Really Fucking Boring. A dream sequence that included Spider-Man would have helped.
More later. Perhaps.