I am saving my money up for a giraffe, fuck it.

Oh. My.
That is one movie wrought with kick you in the box cliché's and tear jerking cheese intention. There were so many things wrong with this movie, I don't even know where to begin.

1. No one drives like Secret Service except Secret Service; no Winnebago handles like a Porsche.
2. You cannot fly a plane low through a crumbling city. Ever. Or through ash. Duh.
3. Being close (i.e. 200 yards away) to an exploding super volcano would kick your ass harder than 10 nuclear bombs.
4. A floating "Ark" as large as a city cannot maneuver like a speed boat.
5. Why take a giraffe? Every time I see a giraffe it's eating something. I would have filled that Ark with lots of chickens. Lots of rice. Beans. Plants. Not Giraffes. Who the fuck needs a giraffe when there is nothing left?
6. No tsunami will ever be as high as Mount Everest. The water is displaced, not doubled spontaneously.
7. The ash expelled into the upper atmosphere from a Super Volcano isn't dissipating in 27 days.
8. Why go to Africa? Once the water recedes, it recedes everywhere. Go home.

Silly Hollywood. Try harder, come on.

A more realistic version of this story is that the solar flares happen, 2% of us pay attention to it (because, Housewives of Orange County and Monday Night Football are on), the weakened magnetic field allows more radiation in and damn it, we all get cancer together then die.
The End.

Today I feel dumber for having watched this movie. Like stumbling upon a walrus raping a pig, I shockingly could not turn away. I had to know what happened in the end, mostly because I was waiting for the total destruction of all civilization scene (I like those movies better). And also because my coworker never shuts up about solar flares. Seriously. Never Fucking Shuts Up. And I know, I KNOW, he has gotten 85% of his information from this movie. He is that guy. We will have that talk.

I like seeing Hollywood's regurgitated version of the happy ending. It's like returning to the scene of a crime; dirty massage parlor, cash in hand, dick hard as a rock. Please take your blouse off and get the oil.

Back to THE YEAR 2012.
We may in fact be headed for global disaster but I highly doubt any Mayan, whose beliefs in bloodletting and human sacrifice certainly turned out to work in curing disease and causing rainfall, had anymore insight than a long haired hippie in sandals on the other side of the planet whose beliefs held we are indeed, also headed for total destruction. You know who we all should be paying attention to in the Year 2010? Those little men in white coats called Scientists, who figure shit out. It's their job. It's what they do.
By the way, they say were fucked too. My argument here is moot.

Kudos. We are going to die. All of us. Got it. Check.
Can we maybe move forward then? Stop killing each other in the name of god X, or principle Y, or natural resource Z?
How about everyone starts living. Together. Peacefully.
I think about how nice it would be for advanced knowledge of some horrific approaching global disaster so, like in the movies, we all get together Kumbaya and hold hands and and we pass round Coca Cola to enjoy these last days with smiles. But that's too Hollywood. Because we do have advanced knowledge concerning disease, geological and astronomical phenomena, pollution, overpopulation and what do we do?
Argue about whether a man can truly love another man.
Argue about divine appointment of land.
Argue about what one can do with their own body.
We watch people starve.
We watch people die of disease we can cure.
We watch someone's house burn down.
Funds are appropriated to Pro Sports teams rather than education.
Funds are funneled into bigger and better weapons that kill rather than healthcare that saves.
We complain about government, each other, and anything that does not suit our lazy, egotistical lifestyles to include the noise level of a completely biodegradable chip bag, such that a company would discontinue manufacturing it as a result of the complaints.
I complain about you, you complain about me.
My mind cannot process the current level of illogical behavior.
I really do not understand.

I hate us. Sorry, but I do. Absolutely fucking hate us.
We won't get a Hollywood ending and you know what, we don't deserve one.
No one is going to sing Kumbaya and I had so hoped to get to play the tambourine.

Stupid movie.


  1. How dumb is your coworker!... everyone knows that The Day After Tomorrow is the place to get your doomsday knowledge! I mean, DENNIS. QUAID. DUH!

  2. Exactly.
    That is why I bought a parka.


  3. I love how loud the Sun Chips bag is. It's so incredibly loud. And in my mind I envision biodegrading items to be decomposing very quietly. That Sun Chips bag is loud as shit and it makes me laugh. every. time. I open it. Thank yoouuu Sun Chips.