Editor’s Note: For those of you who haven’t taken in any of this spring’s theatrical releases (or previous years’ theatrical or video/DVD releases for that matter), or haven’t read the first 2 1/3 books of the Hunger Games trilogy, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe series, or the Gross Jokes series of books published sometime in the 80’s, please be forewarned. The following self-serving soliloquy as offered up by its author is resplendent with spoilers galore. Even though this particular admonishment is being written prior to the actual blog being penned, the author has the aforementioned items in mind as he prepare to dazzle you with his brilliance, and baffle you with his bull. In addition, there may be a very clinical term crafted into this work in a very guttural manner which will serve as a witty reference to bumpin’ uglies.
You’ve been warned.
Ladies and gentlemen, I sit here at my less than beloved, yet more than necessary laptop with a package of overpriced chocolate candies purchased at the movie theater a few hours ago, a USB powered fan plugged into the aforementioned laptop (the necessary one), and a tumbler filled with my favorite beverage flavored with hints of cherry and lime.
As I sit here ensconced in what I can only described as a smug “I told you so” sense of arrogance, I’m here to say one specific thing.
“I knew it.”
For those of you regulars out there who made it your personal mission during the year 2012 to read every single blog I posted that year (one every day), you’ll remember fondly what I had to say on Christmas Eve.
If you didn’t catch the post because you’re were otherwise occupied with the family Christmas party where you feasted on tamales drenched in queso along with other Mexican food inspired delights, please take a moment to read the post.
Go ahead. I’ll be here when you return.
For the record, there are members of my family who whip up a spicy cream cheese mixture, smear it on tortillas and roll them up. They then cut the rolls into little medallions, and contribute it to the annual Christmas Eve pot luck.
Those things rock.
I wonder what they would be like deep fried.
Looking back on that Star Trek post, I’m not sure there is a whole lot of web content out there today where you can see a picture of Alice Eve and William Shatner on the same page. That’s what makes this site so special.
A few weeks ago during its opening weekend, Wifey, Juniorette, and I ventured out to the over-priced goo-goo-plex to watch Iron Man 3. All things being equal, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did the first two or even the Avengers. Honestly, I don’t think I’d seen a super hero get that emo since Superman Returns. Aside from that, there were plenty of elements about the movie I did appreciate though. Given that Stark’s latest quirk-laden suit was referred to as the Mark 42, I had all the more reason to enjoy what I could of the film.
It just drove home everything I’ve ever written about the secret to life, the universe, and everything being based on humanity’s flaw embodied in a gross mathematical error.
The movie featured Gwyneth Paltrow in it, who had been recently named as the most beautiful woman in the world by some magazine (it was either Reader’s Digest or Guns & Ammo, I don’t remember). Allow me to make two points about that, without even calling attention to the fact that the proclamation was made in conjunction with the release of the movie and not when she was doing press for anything else like telling people what to eat.
Thing #1 – Movies featuring Iron Man and Paltrow’s character have been mentioned here on TharpSter.Org plenty of times in the near 4 years we’ve been live. If she were really the cat’s pajamas, the bee’s knees, and the object of our affections, don’t you think her mug would have been discussed and displayed here on your favorite website on the whole worldwide web? No. Instead, the reference I made to any member of the opposite sex was the lovely and talented Scarlett Johansson in skin tight attire and loaded for bear (or bare).
Thing #2 – Whereas Gwyneth Paltrow is a lovely woman, and I didn’t mind watching her getting nekid and making la beste a deux doz in Shakespeare In Love, she’s not the world’s most beautiful woman. Blogger’s note: That’s right. I just made a Shakespearean reference within a comment about a movie featuring Shakespeare.
In my book, the title of the World’s Most Beautiful Woman belongs to the lady who makes a kick ass chocolate chip cookie drizzled with even more chocolate, buzzes that lump of flesh on the top of my neck whenever the horseshoe hairline rears its ugly head, and has helped your favorite blogger on the whole worldwide web generate a good quality “O Face” for going on 20 years.
She’s probably a little pissed off right now after reading the previous passage.
For those of you with attention deficit who have actually made it this far into the blog without wandering off, I’d like to take a page from your book by changing subjects real quick. I need to offer up a gritch about a phenomenon I’ve just encountered with the spell check feature in my MS Office software.
Dear Bill Gates and assorted dictionary wielding minions. Just because I post one lousy phrase in French doesn’t mean that your software needs to check my spelling against the rest of this blog against a French dictionary. Gitchurshittogetherpeople.
So where was I?
By now, you’re wondering what my trip to Iron Man 3 has to do with Star Trek.
Nothing really. I’m just chewing up webspace in the lead up to my telling of my experience with Star Trek Into Darkness.
I went to see it with Junior this afternoon.
First of all, the movie is cool. Never mind whether Alice Eve looks hot in it (she does), or whether she does it Klingon-style with Kirk. They don’t, but he does score a three way with two alien hootchies sporting tails. It wasn’t quite on the excitability level as the lovely and talented Polly Mastia showing her three talents (that’s awesome) in either of the Total Recall movies or Paul, but it did open up the imagination a bit where extra-terrestrial unga bunga is concerned. Forget about green skinned gingers at this point. That proclivity is now relegated to the status of old hat.
Let’s talk about one of the last scenes where the shit has hit the fan and Kirk and Spock are doing their gosh darndest to save the Enterprise and her crew.
Do you remember about 30 years ago when in the Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan when Spock carried through with all of that “needs of the many” bullshit in order to save the Enterprise from being caught up in the Genesis explosion? Of course you do. Even if you don’t, you’ll get to see a modified version of the same….damn….scene in the latest Star Trek flick.
It’s a good thing no one chews up celluloid by yelling “KHAN!” really loud like what happened in the predecessor movie borne of the 80’s. That, of course, would be a cheap take off on what’s become one of the ultimate cliché moments in Star Trek history.
That, of course, would imply that the bad guy in this flick was Khan. Naturally, that was just a rumor I repeated in the previous Star Trek post which carried no real weight.
*pause for effect*
After all, the bad guy in this flick was played by Benedict Cumberbatch, an English actor whose pasty Anglo skin appears to be free of the Rich Corinthian Leather-like skin the ravages of Ceti Alpha V can play on a genetically enhanced malcontent.
Reimagining Khan in such a way would be heresy bordering on an act so absurd that you might as well throw in a bit or two about Tribbles as well.
Don’t you think?