I don't really want to blog on this, but they'll revoke my geek license if I don't...
It was announced today that a horrible turdmonster from a mysterious South Pacific island, having destroyed a precious and beautiful creation, has now set his unbearable eyes on crushing a precious childhood icon that somehow escaped his notice during an earlier destructive rampage.
I'd hoped the horror was over, but it returns. Sometimes they come back, like in that Stephen King story about undead juvenile delinquents. Like Dracula. Or Uwe Boll. You think the beast is dead, but no, that's just what it wanted you to think. And no tome of arcane rituals will seal the gate, not even if you remember to say "Klaatu Barata Nictu" correctly instead of sneezing it into your sleeve in a hopeless attempt to fool the Powers That Be (and they'll know, trust me).
Of course, I'm helpless to stop it from happening. I'm just one man. No, all I'll be able to do is avert my eyes, and maybe weep. Weeping is good. It'll make it harder to see the posters.
I'd hoped the horror was over, but it returns. Sometimes they come back, like in that Stephen King story about undead juvenile delinquents. Like Dracula. Or Uwe Boll. You think the beast is dead, but no, that's just what it wanted you to think. And no tome of arcane rituals will seal the gate, not even if you remember to say "Klaatu Barata Nictu" correctly instead of sneezing it into your sleeve in a hopeless attempt to fool the Powers That Be (and they'll know, trust me).
Of course, I'm helpless to stop it from happening. I'm just one man. No, all I'll be able to do is avert my eyes, and maybe weep. Weeping is good. It'll make it harder to see the posters.
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