Transformers 2 Review

Where to begin? From the very first voiceover (which is as pointless as the first voiceover in the first movie), you know the movie is going to be a turd. In many ways this movie is a perfect example of how Hollywood can mess up an existing franchise. Much like George Lucas, Michael Bay has no idea how to make a movie for his target audience. There are robots in this film that reminded me of Jar Jar Binks, but it gets worse. To try to widen the appeal of the movie, there are a couple of ethnic robots, one Hispanic and one black (complete with a gold tooth). Neither one can read. They both use slang like “I’m gonna put a cap in his ass” and “punk ass bitch”.

Also, I’ve heard complaints about the use of the term “masturbation” in the first movie. Seriously, it has no purpose in a kid’s movie. Well, folks, the sequel is worse. I heard someone use the p-word (sounds like a cat). There are three scenes involving humping. And the best part is when you get a robotic crotch shot and there are two large metalic balls.

Transformers 2 is a narrative mess. Characters show up, do something useful, and then they vanish until they are needed again. Some characters have no purpose at all. The plot is way too complicated, and the last action sequence is at least an hour long. I kept wondering how much longer it would go on.

And yet, even with all it’s flaws, I didn’t hate the movie. Is that wrong? I just hope they don’t make another one.

The Mouse Behind The Toaster

I saw my aunt over the weekend.  She said the other day she went into the kitchen to clean it up, when she noticed a dead mouse between the toaster and the wall–Ewww!

She grabbed a paper towel, picked up the body, and tossed it in the trash.

She pulled the toaster out to clean behind it.  Then she noticed the toaster’s power cord had something fuzzy on it.

“What is that?”  She reached down inspect it with her fingers.

…And got the shock of her life!  The mouse had chewed through to the wires.  Hence, the reason it was dead–it electrocuted itself.  I think it must have also zapped my aunt’s short-term memory, because she touched it twice (and was shocked both times) before realizing she was touching a live wire.

Poor Little Hamster

Little did my mother know when she bought my two brothers a hamster each on Tuesday that it would set about a chain of events that would end in the one of the hamsters’ demise by Friday.

As she relayed the story to me over the weekend, my mouth gaped open in amazement and disgust.

The boys had been playing in their room Thursday night, when suddenly Austin comes into the living room in tears.  “What’s wrong?” my mom asked.

“My hamster is dead,” Austin replied.

“What?” she demanded.  “How did that happen?”  Having recently had to deal with the boys burning down the neighbors’ fence, I’m sure she jumped to a number of conclusions.  But Austion wouldn’t answer.

“You can tell me,” she coaxed.  “It’s okay.”

Between sobs, Austin finally told her that he and Alex had been tossing the hamsters onto the bed in their room, when the accident occurred.  And by tossing, I’m guessing he meant bouncing it off the ceiling.  Anyway, one mis-throw, and Austin’s hamster missed the bed altogether.  It hit the concrete floor, killing it.

Serial killers torture animals, I thought to myself.  My brothers torture animals.  Hmn…

“I’ll bet the other hamster doesn’t make it another week,” I told my mom.

“We’ll see,” she said.  “I’m not buying them any more pets after this.”