Elucidation

My intention, dear reader, has always been to use this site as a means to entertain, inform, entice, and in all cases possible, openly mock. Unfortunately, I’ve been sick all week, coughing up horrible atrocities all over my friends and loved ones. All the while, I’ve had to prepare for about a month’s worth of work crammed into a 2 week timespan. This left little time for me to get my thoughts and outright hatred onto a computer screen, until now. So I apologize, if you’ve felt deprived of your usual quota of spite this week. As one of my favorite poets so eloquently stated: “I love hate, and hate everything else” and therefore I have an acute loathing for anything that deprives me of sharing this with you.

To get things back into gear, I’d like to share with you a tale that involves something that I actually enjoy: my new television. My cousin and I had a running bet as to who would be the first to purchase the abomination that was Brett Ratner’s X-Men III, a bet that I knew was an easy win for the home team. My good friend and blood relative called to concede defeat sometime this weekend. He was ashamed. He had gone to Target, seen the “special edition” that was on sale, and his will was subsequently broken. This call was immediately followed with an extremely satisfying addendum: when he opened the case he found a sealed copy of the Jim Cameron masterpiece: Terminator 2: Judgement Day.

I suggested to him that this was indeed the will of God, and that perhaps he had been spared a far more dire fate by being given this opportunity to cleanse his collection of such rubbish. Since he already owned a copy of the 1994 Schwarzenegger film, he told me to shut the fuck up and returned it.

We watched it the other night. He, drunk off his ass; I, hopped up on the Nyquil®. And we came up with this startling discovery: the movie is ten times as bad the second time. It was awful. It was laughable. It was only enjoyable on the basest of “MST3K” levels. It was the first time that I could not find a single deleted scene on a DVD that would have added value to a film.

This brings me, my interweb friend, to the real reason for this post. And that is a deleted scene that made us both fall out of our chairs, gasping at our chests in hysterics. An homage so terrible that it made me wish horrifying death upon all who participated in its creation. Unfortunately, the only verision I could find involves a voiceover from someone (I’m assuming Ratner) explaining the inspiration for such a travesty. Share in the hate with me, my brothers:

…

I hate you Brett. Thank you for that.