Cameron Diaz is Stupid

Today I actually have something to write about. I don�t have it all organized and I will probably just end up ranting, but I feel like this has to be said.

I know this can only be my opinion, but I am presenting it here as fact: Charlie�s Angels 2 sucks. It really sucks. I have not seen it, nor do I plan on seeing it, and if you have seen the previews or know anything about it I shouldn�t have to tell you why. Just the fact that it IS sucks. I know that a whole mess of movies come out every year just like this; big budget, juvenile �fun� movies that are formulaically produced in Hollywood without a brain cell of creativity or respect for the viewer, and usually I don�t mind. I don�t see them, and I don�t have to think about them. But something about Charlie�s Angels 2 just gets to me, personally, as if Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu have stolen my bike or kicked my cat in the face. I think the reason I am so offended is that it is a sequel. The first CA was bad enough; I made it out of that campaign having only viewed the last half-hour of it, and that was all I needed to see. My roommate Kenta was watching it one night when I returned to the dorm room. His words stand out in my memory like a critic�s quote:

me: What�s this?
Kenta: Charlie�s Angels. Have you seen it?
me: No.
Kenta: It�s not good.

Take a look at the title of this post. It may seem childish or ignorant, but I�m just being blunt in presenting my opinion. I don�t have to sugarcoat it because it�s her own fault that I hate her. In all the roles I have seen her in, not one of them has appealed to me as a likable character, not even when she played the idiot in Being John Malkovich or the other idiot in There�s Something About Mary. I think she�s stupid because of the movies she continues to star in and the characters she continues to play. Movies like Charlie�s Angels, Charlie�s Angels 2, and the brain-dissolving, please-kick-me-in-the-head-with-an-iron-boot The Sweetest Thing.

Getting back to Charlie�s Angels 2, I am offended because it is a sequel, as if the first one was such a goddamn masterpiece that we wanted more. When I am caught off guard by one of the overly obnoxious previews for the crap (I will not call it a film), I can almost hear director McG�s voice in my head shouting �You wanted more Angels, and here they come! In your face! G-dogg, bitch nigga! Whut??� (By the way, I think it no coincidence that this McG guy is also responsible for the Fox series Fastlane, which is quite possibly the dumbest show I have ever seen. What does McG mean? I have no idea, but it might have something to do with him looking like this.)

The other night I watched the movie Punch Drunk Love which is now on video and DVD. This is one of the best films I have seen in the past couple years, for a simple reason: it�s creative. This movie can be admired for a number of things, but what I took away from it more than anything is the idea that movies don�t have to be cliched, they don�t have to follow formulas, and they just plain don�t have to be anything. Punch Drunk Love is exciting to watch because it strays from all convention, placing you in a space beyond the average movie world. It is a world that seems strangely real in its surrealism, unbound by the traditional structures of what a movie should be and how characters should behave. It seems like the kind of film that someone like, say, McG wouldn�t be able to sit through because it would show him just how pointless and repetitive his work is. I believe Paul Thomas Anderson is on to something, picking away at a genre that exists somewhere between realism, French new wave, and hallucinogenic idealism.

If McG and Paul Thomas Anderson got in a fight, McG would probably win. ...I really don�t know how to follow that up. But know this: some movies stimulate brain cells, and some movies kill them.

Brett 33:45

And he appeared unto them, and they knew the word was God. And they spoke the word God, and it was he, their Lord and shepherd Jesus Christ. And Jesus thus spoke the word, and the word was Jesus God, their savior and word. And they prayed Jesus word God, the Christ savior. And the Heavenly word spoke word, and God was all, Jesus God word Christ bullfrog. And the word spoke God, and Jesus prayed Christ, and God spoke the word of Jesus, who was the astronaut savior. And they realized Christ, the shepherd orangutan of Nazareth, and God word Christ savior Jesus God word word Holy. And God spoke word, and the shepherd spoke word, and the Holy Spirit spoke "word up". And the Lord Savior Statistical Firehose Shepherd Jesus Christ God sat and dined on Rocky Road cereal. Word. To your mother. Amen.

Nothing Interesting to Write

Today I started my summer classes. The highlight of the day was when my theater arts teacher thought Survivor was called Off the Dangerous Island. More later.

Props to All the David Nelsons

Dear dear, I haven't posted in a while. Sorry about that. I've been busy. I hope the beasts at supermundane.com and that site about Egon Schiele kept you busy.

This week I am moving out of this little apartment. I would like to look around the rooms and say "this place was good to me", but I can't help but think about the refrigerator that doesn't refrige very well, or the shower that produces less water than the kitchen faucet. This morning I found the local ant-brigade invading my sink again, and I told them "In a few days it will be all yours, chums." Then I doused their numbers with soapy water.

I was reading the other day about the silly airport security these days. Apparently the feds are giving anybody named David Nelson a hard time. I've had a few ideas for when I depart on my trip; I could go to a dollar store and stock up on tweezers and small scissors and hair pins and the like, and put them all in a bag. Then I can hand it to the security folk at the airport and tell them "by the way, my friends call me Dave Nelson." But maybe that would be too extreme. What I AM going to do, though, is pack some kind of toy gun, obvious in its fakeness, and see if they confiscate it. If they do, I'm going to take a picture of the guy taking it and ask him to "smile justly".

Anyhoo, I will get back to my cleaning and boxing. That's right; Holyfield's up next. Bring it on, bitch!

C'est Genius!

Hey everyone, go look at the beasts. It will make your day.

Or you can read about my latest demi-idol.

Back to the Real World

Here's another world event. 4 Get Monkeypox Virus from Prairie Dogs. You know what? I didn't even read this article. I just love the headline. Read it. Read it again. This is the kind of thing that you'd think would make people want to read on, but yet I do not, because I know that if I knew the whole story then the headline would make perfect sense and stop being funny. So now you must make this decision for yourself: will you read the article in risk of diffusing the humor? Or Not? Choose!!!!

Brett's World of Corvallis

Here's what's new: my Japanese final oral exam was kind of like an episode of ER when they bring in the guy who swallowed a fire cracker and it got stuck in his heart and then it blew up and there was a big bleeding hole in his left ventricle and so they took him in and yelled some stuff and the camera made a bunch of quick sweeps of the OR, and in the end the guy dies. Well, okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but I'm still unwinding from the stress of it all.

In other news, it's hot outside. I saw a cockroach pass out on the sidewalk this morning.

In other news, there's a big Reggae festival going on in the MU Quad right now. It's a refreshing alternative to the other local bands, who wear backwards hats and want to be like Limp Bizkit or Saliva. The Raggae groups just get up, say "hi everybody. Sure is hot today. Well, here's some music," and do their thing. Maybe it's the ganja. Eek-A-Mouse is even going to perform.

In other other news, today was my last day in Human Sexuality and I learned that girls really are bitches.

Finals and Brain Boxes

I am studying for finals and such. It's not very fun, and I don't have much to say about it. So I will refer you to this other site...

Dino Riders. I used to eat these things up as a kid. Not only does this site have info on all of the toys and merchandise, but the guy who put it together seems convinced that this was the greatest franchise man ever created. He's even got shit on the Smithsonian Dinosaur Collection, which makes me wonder how easy it was to get a "Authorized Replica, Smithsonian Museum" sticker on a toy line. Apparently the Smithsonian thinks dinosaurs had 4 points of articulation and perfectly symmetrical bodies, and that the T-Rex drug his tail around with a big grin on his face.