Grossly Inaccurate Review: Terminator 3

Terminator 3

Warner Bros.

Arnold Schwartzenegger

Claire Danes

by Dr. Albert Oxford, PhD

I sat in my armchair sipping, from an oragami cup I crafted from a single page of Kafka, a rare 1908 hand-aged single-malt Islay Scotch, rumored to have been filtered through the Shroud of Turin. I was reading the complete works of Sartre, which I had painstakingly translated from this volume's crude modern English text back into the original Latin, and then re-translated it into 15th-Century pre-vowel shift French before allowing my intellect to sip the philosopher's somewhat obvious, though mildly entertaining insights, when young David suggested we take in the press screening of Terminator 3.

Understand, it has been mathematically proven that Hollywood has only produced four good films since 1929, and three of them were never shown publicly. The odds of Terminator 3 being the fifth were thus as thin as the average American buttock isn't.

"My good man," I snorted as I glanced over my parchments, "the only thing that will be 'terminated' this afternoon will be two hours of my life!" And though I laughed directly in David's face for a solid twenty-five minutes, I knew that my duty was as a film reviewer. I resigned myself that the stench of American culture would once again be ringing in my nostrils for several days. I filled my hip flask, rebelliously pocketed only my blurriest monacle, and slipped a notepad into my overcoat in hopes of composing some poetry while I trudged through the next two hours of pure, ear-hammering bad.

A short time later Mr. Wong and I met at the downtown screening theater with John, David's associate, who I have nicknamed "Cancer."

"Ah'll be bock!" said John in a fake Austrian accent, clearly not going anywhere. I have observed with time that the Cancer speaks almost entirely in what you Americans call "catch phrases" lifted from popular films. "Today," continued John, "is our Independece Day! Independence from not having seen this movie! It's shagadelic, baby!"

Imagine the most patient person on Earth. John continues using the same catch phrase over and over and over again until that person tearfully begs him to stop, at which point he continues for two additional months. After a 1999 viewing of The Matrix John responded to every single social situation, including hearing his wedding vows, with "whoa."

"Hey, Mr. Oxford," belched John, "who am I?"

I began to ask this buffoon what he was on about, when David raised a warning hand. "Just... don't," he said. "John's just seen The Matrix: Reloaded and he's latched onto a catch phrase. If we can just make it until we get inside and let the movie start..."

"I'll be bock!" shouted John, apparently to a nearby rubbish bin. "Hey, Charlie's Angels 2 is playing next door! Why don't we skip over to that one instead? I hear it's rated Ass."

David ignored John, and I realized the irony in the fact that this man works in the medium of the written word and yet appeals to an audience that almost certainly cannot read.

But I digress. The Terminator movies, as you may have gathered, all revolve around the misadventures of a time-travelling cyborg. Now granted, I've found a number of flaws in Einstein's theories, but one instance where he was clearly correct was in his assertion that robots cannot time travel. A small tear left a trail down my cheek as thought of this, softly weeping for the death of what might have been a great culture in this young nation. The success of these films made it clear that the American experiment in Democracy had failed.

We finally made our way through the line and up to the security guard at the entrance to the screening. David pulled out the new press pass he had made the night before and the following exchange ensued:

Guard: Name and publication?

David: David Wong. Cat Fancy.

Guard (to John): And who are you?

David: No-

John: I am the Architect. I created the Matrix. I've been waiting for you. You have many questions, and though the process has altered your consciousness you remain irrevocably human ergo some of my answers you will understand, and some of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is also the most irrelevant. Your life is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent to the programming of the matrix. You are the eventuality of an anomaly which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision. While it remains a burden asciduously avoided it is not unexpected, and thus not beyond a measure of control. Which has led you inexorably here. The matrix is older than you know. I prefer counting from the emergence of one integral anomaly to the emergence of the next, in which case this is the 6th version. As you are undoubtedly gathering, the anomaly is systemic--creating fluctuations in even the most simplistic equations. The first Matrix I designed was quite naturally perfect. It was a work of art...flawless, sublime. And triumphed equally only by its monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every human being. Thus, I redesigned it based on your history to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your nature. However, I was again frustrated by failure. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection. Thus the answer was stumbled upon by another, an intuitive program, initially created to investigate certain aspects of the human psyche. If I am the father of the matrix, she would undoubtedly be its Mother. She stumbled upon a solution whereby nearly 99% of all test subjects accepted the program, as long as they were given a choice...even if they were only aware of the choice at a near unconscious level. While this answer functioned, it was obviously fundamentally flawed, thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly that if left unchecked might threaten the system itself. Ergo those that refused the program, while a minority, if unchecked would constitute an escalating probability of disaster. You are here because Zion is about to be destroyed--its every living inhabitant terminated, its entire existence eradicated. Denial is the most predictable of all human responses, but rest assured...this will be the 6th time we have destroyed it, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it. The function of the One is now to return to the Source, allowing a temporary dissemination of the code you carry, reinserting the prime program. After which, you will be required to select from the matrix 23 individuals--16 females, 7 male--to rebuild Zion. Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash, killing everyone connected to the Matrix, which coupled with the extermination of Zion will ultimately result in the extinction of the entire human race. There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept. However the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept the responsibility of the death of every human being on this world. It is interesting reading your reactions. Your 5 predecessors were, by design, based on a similar predication--a contingent affirmation that was meant to create a profound attachment to the rest of your species, facilitating the function of the One. While the others experienced this in a very general way, your experience is far more specific--vis a vis..love. Appropos, Trinity entered the matrix to save your life, at the cost of her own. Which brings us at last to the moment of truth, wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed, and the anomaly revealed as both beginning and end. There are two doors. The door to your right leads to the Source, and the salvation of Zion. The door to your left leads back to the matrix, to her and to the end of your Species. As you adequately put, the problem is choice. But we already know what you are going to do, don't we? Already, I can see the chain-reaction--the chemical precursors that signal the onset of an emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm logic and reason--an emotion that is already blinding you from the simple and obvious truth...she is going to die, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Hope. It is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.

(Long silence)

David: So... we'll just be going inside now...

Guard: The man in this photo is an elderly black woman. Are you really from Cat Fancy? I mean, if I asked you some pointed cat questions, you'd be able to answer with no problem, right?

David: Uh, sure. Though I wasn't so much a cat expert as an-

Guard: Okay. My cat, Mr. Boots, needs an enema. Tell me the proper way to administer said enema, Mr. Cat Fancy.

David: Oh, well, you would... you know... pardon me.

(John takes David aside, whispers in his ear. David faces the Guard again.)

David: You, uh, strap the enema to the crotch of a nearby gay cat.

Guard: ...

David: ...

Guard: ...

Charlie's Angels:
Full Throttle

Sony

Drew Barrymore

Demi Moore

The two-block trek to the nearby public theater felt like a progression from one circle of Dante's Hell to another. The shuffling, mooing herd of horny adolescent Cameron Diaz fans pushed through the door for the opening day of this sequel to the film that founded the concept of DVD freeze-frame as masturbation aid. The ticketholders around us carried so much fat on their frames that I feared the stampede friction would cause a spontaneous grease fire.

The Cancer was bouncing with excitement all the way into the theater, but David, furious over being turned away from the Terminator screening, was refusing to speak to anyone.

Ah, if only the characters in Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle would have done the same. The script was as flimsy and full of holes as mankind's belief in God. It was no secret what was being sold in this piece of whorish trash: vulva, ladies and gentlemen. "Vulva!" I screamed, mocking the garish audacity of it all. "Come get your vulva!"

None paid attention, as all eyes were fixed upon the screen. I watched as the camera lingered on the bottom half of Drew Barrymore's bikini, the skin-tight fabric wedged up her...

What's this? I am deeply ashamed to admit that I felt a certain stirring in my groin. A look down found Henry Wadsworth Longfellow standing fully erect.

I stood up in my seat, indignant.

"Why... why.... you've engorged my Longfellow!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs, my mind buzzing with flashes of the ten-foot ass image. A pair of hands pulled me back down by my tweed jacket. My hands were shaking with the sheer ass of it all, my mind unable to think on anything but ass, ass, ass. How could Hollywood be so blatantly manipulative knowing ass would ass the ticket ass?

"Just calm down, Doctor," said David, looking nervously about.

"Ass?" I demanded. "Ass ass the ass manager?"

"He's speaking my language now," said John, turning toward me. "Doc, I think I can be of ass-sistance. Do you know who I am?"

"Ass?"

"I am the Architect. I created the Matrix. I've been waiting for you. You have many questions, and though the process has altered your consciousness you remain irrevocably human ergo some of my answers you will understand, and some of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is also the most irrelevant. Your life is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent to the programming of the matrix. You are the eventuality of an anomaly which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision. While it remains a burden asciduously avoided it is not unexpected, and thus not beyond a measure of control. Which has led you inexorably here. The matrix is older than you know. I prefer counting from the emergence of one integral anomaly to the emergence of the next, in which case this is the 6th version. As you are undoubtedly gathering, the anomaly is systemic--creating fluctuations in even the most simplistic equations. The first Matrix I designed was quite naturally perfect. It was a work of art...flawless, sublime. And triumphed equally only by its monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every human being. Thus, I redesigned it based on your history to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your nature. However, I was again frustrated by failure. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection. Thus the answer was stumbled upon by another, an intuitive program, initially created to investigate certain aspects of the human psyche. If I am the father of the matrix, she would undoubtedly be its Mother. She stumbled upon a solution whereby nearly 99% of all test subjects accepted the program, as long as they were given a choice...even if they were only aware of the choice at a near unconscious level. While this answer functioned, it was obviously fundamentally flawed, thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly that if left unchecked might threaten the system itself. Ergo those that refused the program, while a minority, if unchecked would constitute an escalating probability of disaster. You are here because Zion is about to be destroyed--its every living inhabitant terminated, its entire existence eradicated. Denial is the most predictable of all human responses, but rest assured...this will be the 6th time we have destroyed it, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it. The function of the One is now to return to the Source, allowing a temporary dissemination of the code you carry, reinserting the prime program. After which, you will be required to select from the matrix 23 individuals--16 females, 7 male--to rebuild Zion. Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash, killing everyone connected to the Matrix, which coupled with the extermination of Zion will ultimately result in the extinction of the entire human race. There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept. However the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept the responsibility of the death of every human being on this world. It is interesting reading your reactions. Your 5 predecessors were, by design, based on a similar predication--a contingent affirmation that was meant to create a profound attachment to the rest of your species, facilitating the function of the One. While the others experienced this in a very general way, your experience is far more specific--vis a vis..love. Appropos, Trinity entered the matrix to save your life, at the cost of her own. Which brings us at last to the moment of truth, wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed, and the anomaly revealed as both beginning and end. There are two doors. The door to your right leads to the Source, and the salvation of Zion. The door to your left leads back to the matrix, to her and to the end of your Species. As you adequately put, the problem is choice. But we already know what you are going to do, don't we? Already, I can see the chain-reaction--the chemical precursors that signal the onset of an emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm logic and reason--an emotion that is already blinding you from the simple and obvious truth...she is going to die, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Hope. It is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness."

A fracas ensued. I awoke four hours later, my fingers still frozen in the shape of John's throat, my own neck peppered with fist-shaped bruises.

I have severed my relationship with this website, and the two men whose names I will never speak again. Further, ladies and gentlemen, I hearby swear off American cinema forever.

Good day.

One star.

*

Posted by mohair
6.29.03 - 3:12 PM
Subject: HP fanfic

Message:

I just finished Order of the PHoenix. I can't believe Harry died. Anyway, here's the next bit of HP fanfic from yours truly!

Part 27:

"She's getting away," screamed Ron his penis dangling furious.

Dont worry! said Harry. he waved his wand.

"Assio!"

Cho suddenly was yanked back across the room pulled as if by an invisible rope. her naked ass landed perfectly in Harrys cupped hand.

Suddenly, Lord Voldemort sprang into the room with six of his evil masked henchmen who sprang into the room.

"Oh no! said Ron. "Dick eaters!!!"

lord voldemort quickly subdued harry and ron and cho chang naked. he tied them all together naked with rope tight around their naked bodies. Hermione burst in and voldemort also tied her to the rest naked

"so!" said Voldemort, unveiling his enormous manhood "i finally have all of you in my clutches naked!

suddenly harry looked over and saw that cho's wand was still wedged in Ron's buttocks. harry's hands were still tied so he reached over with his penis and grabbed the wand but he couldn't grab it.

"Ah," said voldemort. Now that I have you in my clutches, why dont we have a little fun?" he pulled out harry's broomstick.

Harry knew there was only one way to free the wand. With his free hand, he reached around and grabbed Ron's

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Posted by willwheaton
6.29.03 - 3:19 PM
Subject: star trek

Message: I think the HP books have are really reaching a curve of maturation in their story cycle. It reminds me of when we reached the peak of our storytelling in the fifth and sixth seasons of ST:TNG. I'm looking forward to the sixth book, which I hear will be titled "Ginny Weasley and the Warlock's Veil."

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Posted by JINGA!!
6.29.03 - 3:43 PM
Subject: damn

Message: f**king post length error.

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Posted by jofriday12@msn.com
6.29.03 - 4:12 PM
Subject: hp

Message: i think mohairs fanfic is better than the real thing anybody agree?

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Posted by mohair
6.29.03 - 4:32 PM
Subject: fanfic

Message: thats actually how i ended the story so you can use your imagination to finish it. Im thinking about moving on to something else because it takes a lot of emotional energy to write hp fanfic. ppl don't realize how much of myself i have invested in it.

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Posted by nordling@verizon.net
6.29.03 - 4:42 PM
Subject: lol

Message: just think how big the hulks balls would be lol

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