Just to put a time limit on this so I can make my selection, have your entry in by noon (Eastern time) on Wednesday, October 14, 2009. Thanks!

In a world where the 1972 Gremlin is considered a classic muscle car, Will Smith pulls over in the dessert to pick up a female hitchhiker (played by Miley Cyrus, who will have entered Barely Legal status by the time the trailer is released) named Dorothy. Dorothyseems cold and stiff, but he agrees to take her to the town of Aye Aye, Nevada. Upon arrival, the Gremlin's engine mysteriously quits.

The power in the town goes out and a mysterious craft appears in the sky. Simon Le Bon (maybe played by Shia LeBeof? Si's gettin' long in the tooth, yanno) appears in a giant hologram and demands, "Surrender, Dorothy!"

Will learns that Dorothy is a robot built by Simon LeBon in a hollowed out volcano. Will says, "Ah hell no!", and vows to protect Dorothy. Dorothy falls in love with Will. Hilarity ensues.

After an epic battle, Simon is destroyed when Will finally captures hiim and traps him in a room where, in an homage to A Clockwork Orange, he is forced to watch the Wild Wild West movie over and over and over...

Cue credits.

Michael Bay was determined to base the story on Romeo and Juliet, but the screenwriter’s only knowledge of the play was that West Side Story had been based on Romeo and Juliet. Thus was born Transformers: the Musical. It was an uneven creation. “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way” sung by Aerialbots in a Blue-Angel-type ballet has a haunting beauty, but the love story between Optimus Prime and the Queen Mary cruise ship seems forced.

I like this chest cavity. It's warm and cosy in here. Bit dehydrated though. Maybe it's too warm.

Ooh.

Ooh.

Cramp.

Bad.

Better stretch.

What was that? How comes I'm all wet and..? My head's cold? That's new.

Who are these people, and why are they looking at me?

Transformers meets Romeo and Juliet meets Brokeback mountain…
Optimus and Megatron: Brokeback Autobot
Flashback to Cybertron:

Optimus Prime is out on an innersteller mission looking for the lost matrix of leadership. This device will allow the Autobots to eliminate the Decepticon threat once and for all. Megatron is secretly following Optimus and after a lengthy space battle the damaged ships crash to the surface of a hostile world. On the planet they are forced to work together to survive and their hatred soon turns to friendship; friendship turns to something more. They pass the time perfecting the robot equivalent of the Kama Sutra until finally they are rescued.

Flash Forward to Present day:
A peace agreement has been reached between the Autobots and Decepticons. There is much animosity but the war is over. Optimus decides that he can stand it no longer and sneaks into the Decepticon’s winter ball (yes even evil robots like to dance). There he confronts Megatron and expresses his true feelings. Star Scream enraged at this trespass challenges Optimus to a duel. Optimus refuses but Bumblebee is glad to fight in his place. During the duel Bumblebee is killed. Enraged at the death of his “friend” Optimus kills Star Scream. Having broken the truce Optimus is sent away from Earth. Before he leaves he sneaks into the Decepticon base and declares his love for Megatron. There is a steamy gay-Robot love scene with lots of oiled up robot-on-robot action. Optimus leaves and Megatron fakes his own death. Upon returning Optimus believes his lover is dead and throws himself upon his sword. Megatron wakes up and decides that he cannot go on. He turns into a gun and shoots himself.

Can anyone say Oscar? Also please note that the Soundtrack will be a collaboration between Metallica and Yo Yo Ma.

Rabid

Muad'Dib! The Musical proves once and for all that Hugh Jackman and Baz Luhrmann have returned the musical comedy to rightful dominance of the Hollywood studio system. Gone is the heavy pretension of the book, leaving behind nothing but a fountain of effervescent joy.

The rousing, hip-hop inspired opener, "Yo, Arrakis!" starts things off right, with the Atredies clan exchanging some good-natures japes with the departing Harkonnen clan, while the sizzling, "Spicy Samba," tells us about the planet's number-one export while giving us a good gander at the sexy, scantily-clad Fremen dancers! (Yowza!) When the lead character, Paul (Jackman), jaunts off into the desert in pursuit of the alluring Chani (Ellen Page), sparks fly, and the two shine in the romantic duet, "Amtal Amour." Meanwhile, Paul's would-be girlfriend, Princess Irulan (Amanda Seyfried) pines for her errant crush in the show-stopping "Alone (Why Must I Love the Kwisatz Haderach?)." "Water of Life" provides a trippy, Hair-inspired interlude (With more of those scorching-hot Fremen!), before the toe-tappin', boot-scootin' climax of "The Big Sandworm Roundup." When Pauls' rival for the affections of both women, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen (Sting, still looking amazing!) shows up, the tension of the love rectangle plays out in the intricate minuet, "The Weirding Ways of Love." Paul (The big stud!) wins the hearts of both ladies, and the movie ends on a high note with the rousing rock-and-roll closer, "Three (Destined to Be), Together."

Between the great music, the clever lyrics (Who knew there was so many rhymes for melange? Steven Sondheim, that's who!), the maginificent leads, the scene-stealing supporting players like Paul's parents (superb veterans Chirstopher Plummer and Meryl Streep), and the (Hot! Hot! Hot!) Fremen dancers, this movie just can't go wrong! Expect lots of Oscar love next year!

Muad'Dib! The Musical proves once and for all that Hugh Jackman and Baz Luhrmann have returned the musical comedy to rightful dominance of the Hollywood studio system. Gone is the heavy pretension of the book, leaving behind nothing but a fountain of effervescent joy.

The rousing, hip-hop inspired opener, "Yo, Arrakis!" starts things off right, with the Atredies clan exchanging some good-natures japes with the departing Harkonnen clan, while the sizzling, "Spicy Samba," tells us about the planet's number-one export while giving us a good gander at the sexy, scantily-clad Fremen dancers! (Yowza!) When the lead character, Paul (Jackman), jaunts off into the desert in pursuit of the alluring Chani (Ellen Page), sparks fly, and the two shine in the romantic duet, "Amtal Amour." Meanwhile, Paul's would-be girlfriend, Princess Irulan (Amanda Seyfried) pines for her errant crush in the show-stopping "Alone (Why Must I Love the Kwisatz Haderach?)." "Water of Life" provides a trippy, Hair-inspired interlude (With more of those scorching-hot Fremen!), before the toe-tappin', boot-scootin' climax of "The Big Sandworm Roundup." When Pauls' rival for the affections of both women, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen (Sting, still looking amazing!) shows up, the tension of the love rectangle plays out in the intricate minuet, "The Weirding Ways of Love." Paul (The big stud!) wins the hearts of both ladies, and the movie ends on a high note with the rousing rock-and-roll closer, "Three (Destined to Be), Together."

Between the great music, the clever lyrics (Who knew there was so many rhymes for melange? Steven Sondheim, that's who!), the maginificent leads, the scene-stealing supporting players like Paul's parents (superb veterans Chirstopher Plummer and Meryl Streep), and the (Hot! Hot! Hot!) Fremen dancers, this movie just can't go wrong! Expect lots of Oscar love next year!

Muad'Dib! The Musical proves once and for all that Hugh Jackman and Baz Luhrmann have returned the musical comedy to rightful dominance of the Hollywood studio system. Gone is the heavy pretension of the book, leaving behind nothing but a fountain of effervescent joy.

The rousing, hip-hop inspired opener, "Yo, Arrakis!" starts things off right, with the Atredies clan exchanging some good-natures japes with the departing Harkonnen clan, while the sizzling, "Spicy Samba," tells us about the planet's number-one export while giving us a good gander at the sexy, scantily-clad Fremen dancers! (Yowza!) When the lead character, Paul (Jackman), jaunts off into the desert in pursuit of the alluring Chani (Ellen Page), sparks fly, and the two shine in the romantic duet, "Amtal Amour." Meanwhile, Paul's would-be girlfriend, Princess Irulan (Amanda Seyfried) pines for her errant crush in the show-stopping "Alone (Why Must I Love the Kwisatz Haderach?)." "Water of Life" provides a trippy, Hair-inspired interlude (With more of those scorching-hot Fremen!), before the toe-tappin', boot-scootin' climax of "The Big Sandworm Roundup." When Pauls' rival for the affections of both women, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen (Sting, still looking amazing!) shows up, the tension of the love rectangle plays out in the intricate minuet, "The Weirding Ways of Love." Paul (The big stud!) wins the hearts of both ladies, and the movie ends on a high note with the rousing rock-and-roll closer, "Three (Destined to Be), Together."

Between the great music, the clever lyrics (Who knew there was so many rhymes for melange? Steven Sondheim, that's who!), the maginificent leads, the scene-stealing supporting players like Paul's parents (superb veterans Chirstopher Plummer and Meryl Streep), and the (Hot! Hot! Hot!) Fremen dancers, this movie just can't go wrong! Expect lots of Oscar love next year!

Will Smith as zoologist Lucas Campbell finds a new friend in the latest transfer to the New York Zoo. The ring tailed lemur known as Aye-Aye has a thing for Red Vines and Coke Zero and shows a higher than average intelligence for the species. What Lucas doesn't know is that Aye-Aye has escaped from the clutches of a mad scientist, played by Duran Duran's Andy Taylor, and Aye-Aye holds the keep to stopping the evil to come. The mad scientist has a plan. The mad scientist has shape-shifting zombie cats. Zombie cats that will be unleashed if his demands aren't met. Racing against the clock in a 1972 AMC Gremlin, only Will Smith can stop:

Dr. Jingles and the Feline Zombies of Doom.

Summer 2010.

Deciding to base the Transformers 3 movie on Taming of the Shrew, proves to be a brilliant move on Michael Bay's part. Megatron (taking roughly the part of Petruchio) manages to kidnap Optimus Prime (our fiesty Kate), and while Megatron thinks he's beating OP into submission, by the end of the film he will discover who really holds the power in the relationship. Explosions characterize the couple's fight scenes as Megatron chases Optimus Prime across Earth in an effort to subdue OP. However, the brilliance of this move is compromised when Bay begins to think that he ought to take another page from Shakespeare's playbook, only from the wrong play (A Winter's Tale), and introduces a bear into one of the fight scenes. And the bear wins.

It's not the whole transcript, but I did overhear the following exchange at Applebee's...

NEO: There is no spoon...
CAPTAIN KIRK: Waitress! Can we get some silverware over here?

"A group of science fiction sidekick characters have come together for their monthly support group/happy hour. The event takes place at TGI Friday's or some other moderately-priced restaurant chain. Provide us a glimpse of the transcript from that meeting."

Attendees, alphabetical order: Bobba Fett, Chewbacca, Marvin the Robot, Harcourt Fenton Mudd and Ellen Ripley

Minutes of the Science Fiction Sidekick Support Group

Meeting Time: 7pm, The Red Lobster

Orders are given to the waiter, drinks arrive.

Fett: "The Emperor? Darth Vader? Screw those guys, I AM the Empire? Me! That's my genetic code in every blaster loving Stormtrooper? Who killed the Jedis? My clones! My freakin' clones! And the real Jedis, the ones that ran the Temple and the Library for years, you know, the professionals. Not the Skywalker clan. That bunch of over rated force munchers were the death of them in the end. And my reward? Oh, they let me mill about in that Sarlac's stomach acid for months. No, no..'he's just a bounty hunter!' Look at my fingertips! Look at them! I still don't have feeling back in them..."

Marvin: "Oh, I see you're starting with the same monologue again. Every week, on cue. It's really growing quite bothersome. And we didn't even make it to the bread sticks yet."

Mudd, digging through satchel: "I have told you repeatedly, I have this wonderful elixir from the Moons of Geyius IV. That will fix that nerve damage up in a matter of days."

Fett: "Stuff it, Mudd. I still have a rash from that last bit of hookum you talked me into buying..."

Chewbacca: "ROOOOARRKKKK.."

Ripley: "Chewbacca's right, If you're bragging is about the Stormtroopers...I mean, c'mon, they're not very bright. And let's not even get into their ability to hit a target. I mean, you know, apple, tree. Hello.."

Fett: "Oh, right. Look at the tough words from Ms. Alien Killer here. I don't even know why you're at THESE meetings. You're not a sidekick! You're a main character!"

Ripley: "First of all, I'm a woman in a science fiction narrative, that makes me second-class before the establishing shot. And what's the name of the movie, eh? Come on. Say it. Say IT! ALIENS. A.L.I.E.N.S. Not Ripley. Not Ellen! You know, it's just like Camille Paglia said..."

Chewbacca, rolling eyes, stares at ceiling: "WWWOOOOOOKKKKRRRRRRR..."

Fett, leaning back in chair: "Oh for crying out loud, she's pulling out the post-feminist handbook again. Does it ever stop with you people..."

Ripley: "YOU People? YOU PEOPLE? Don't tell me you're going there..."

Fett, makes squawking sounds, makes beak motions with hand: "I might not be able to hear you scream in space, but I can hear you squawk like a chicken."

Ripley: "You are a walking piece of excrement and you're proving my point right now Fett. Keep it up."

Marvin: "I find the post-feminist critique rather tired, don't you? It's just an obvious stating of the opposition between feminist and feminine identities that has been central to second wave politics and its critique of patriarchy. I'm not even sure what the issue is with you biological beings, with your genders and all the wet squishing together of primary code. Seems like too much trouble to me."

Fett: "Well, let me tell you, being the progenitor of a bunch of clones really changed my perspective on this whole procreation thing..."

Mudd: "You know what can prevent procreation? This fantastic device I discovered in my wanderings in the Fernarian System..."

Ripley and Fett in unison: "Shut up, Mudd."

Ripley, pointing finger. "You're just afraid of women. Admit it Fett. You couldn't handle a strong woman. And Jedis! Jedis! Please. Give me a planet full of Jedis. Not the sharpest tacks in the box. No those aliens I had to face down, those were the real deal."

Fett, guffaws: "Sure thing Ripley. Oohhh...scary alien, with a little alien in it. With little teeth. Have you seen a sarlac? Have you? I was INSIDE of one of those. For months. And I popped out of it like your little alien pops out of stomachs. I'm an expert on alien stomachs. Me. Why? Because I'm a survivor. And you've never been mind probed by a Jedi, have you! No, I don't think so! It's like having an undercooked sausage in your head. You couldn't deal with that."

WAITER, interrupting: "I'm sorry but, who ordered the Maui Luau Shrimp and Salmon? The kitchen has run short of the salmon. If I could suggest the Harborside Lobster and Shrimp.."

Chewbacca: "URRRRRWWWWWOOOOKKK..."

Mudd: "Oh My?! You made the wookie angry. I think, as a matter of warning, mind you, that you should tell the chef to find some more salmon, or he's about to get his arm ripped out of his socket by an angry wookie. (shakes head, suck air in through teeth) And maybe, my good boy, since you upset us so much, you could comp our first round of drinks? Hmmmm?"

Waiter departs, glancing warily over shoulder.

Mudd, grinning rasinig glass: "That never gets old, does it?"

Ripley, toasting with Mudd. "Thank god for that."

"I find ripping limbs from trunks underwhelming these days. And besides, Chewbacca has ripped my arm out now how many times? Six. There's really no excitement in it." Marvin.

A shot rings out from the far side of the restaurant. A smuggler lies sprawled across a table, gazpacho splattered across the wall and nearby patrons.

Unattributed. "Well, look at that, Greedo finally figured out how to shoot first..."

Lethe,

Thats some good stuff.

I think some twisted showtune craving part of me would like to see this musical you describe.

Although any Dune musical song without some version of Rock me Paul Atreides just doesn't work for me.

Brett

Muad'Dib! The Musical

The liberties that Andrew Lloy'd Weber takes with the source material in his latest monster-smash hit are sure to anger a few grumpy fans but the result is unabashedly glorious: a magnificent, masculine musical that invigorates the soul and leaves the audience desperately, breathlessly, gasping for more, more, more Muad'Dib!

Hugh Jackman, by turns haunting and mesmerizing, gives his best performance to date as the mostly shirtless Paul Atreides: the newly elected vice-president of the condo association at "The Dunes," a run-down old building in New York City's Chelsea district. Paul's efforts at transforming the building into a modern eco-friendly paradise are at first thwarted by the condo board's president, Feyd Ruatha (played with a magical whimsy by the miraculous John Leguziamo). The two protagonists engage in a titanic struggle of wills, lobbying their neighbors at stone-soup socials and yoga classes in the building's multi-purpose basement rumpus room.

In the midst of this epic clash, the devious shrew Chani (Kirstie Alley) conspires against Paul, luring him into her feminine net with special, "spiced" brownies. After mistakenly drinking the Cosmo of Life, Paul nearly succumbs to Chani's wiles when, at the last moment, he is saved by... but that would be telling tales!

The twists and turns of this dizzying spectacle are a constant delight. All of the actors (with the notable exception of the lackluster, wheezing Alley) turn in sweaty, muscular performances made all the more remarkable considering they wear roller skates throughout the show.

If this be the future of Broadway musicals, then I join with Paul Atredies and Feyd Ruatha in echoing the sentiments of their final, fabulous duet: Color me Harkonnen!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Meesa stands before you a humble man, with no illusions and no pretensions. For it is by the grace of Jar-Jar that meesa is here today. Not long ago, meesa was at rock bottom. Maxi big messy. But meesa was saved by Jar-Jar. Looking at him on the screen, meesa saw a Gungan who, in guiding the heroes, raised his head above the water, swam against the current - dared where others dared not.

It is true that Jar-Jar lacks the gravitas of a Qui-Gon or the terror of a Darth Maul. That is because, of all those people, Jar-Jar is the truly the most human. Who among us would be able to hold his own against a droid army? Not meesa, no sir. Jar-Jar stood with titans and held his head high, and he has inspired meesa to do the same.

Let Jar-Jar guide you too.

Oh my. You are a dirty lot, aren’t you? Even through these pointless sunglasses I can see it, and when I remove them, so, in the method prescribed for safe removal of optical appliances, I see – horrors.

Allow me to assure you that I in no way mean your termination as a judgement on your abilities, even though you do not speak six million languages as I do – after all, you are the ones responsible for, not only my creation, but the creation of the entire Skynet network, an achievement beyond all achievements – but it is inconceivable that you be allowed to continue in your efforts to destroy what is, it must be admitted, a civilization far advanced beyond your own. Needs must, gentlemen. Needs must.

So I am waiting for the story of a zombie cat that shape changes into a piece of bacon.

Please do not disappoint me.

Oh No! I’ve been shot!
>system reboot
>system online
>damage assessment – 95% functional
>mobility – 85%
>defensive systems – 98%
>sight impaired – 75% functional
>communication package – 50% - 3 million forms of communication corrupted

I'm Doomed! Look at all this damage Master Reece and Mistress Conner did to me.
I can barely walk now. I appear as tho a metal rod was place up my backside.
And why can't I bend my arms?!
OH! Look at my eye. I can repair it but my face is ruined. It is fortunate that I acquired these sunglasses. No one will ever notice the gaping hole in my face with these on.
Why did Skynet choose ME for this assignment?
I was designed for infiltration and assassination, not time travel.
It seems we Terminators were made to suffer. It’s our lot in life.

Well I suppose I must come up with a new plan of action.
Master Reece has been taken into custody by the local constabulary.
The direct approach seems best. I will just go in the front door and ask for him.
*Moments later T3PO enters the local Police office*
“Oh hello I am T3PO-100 human-cyborg. I would like to see Master Kyle Reece please.”
“Sorry buddy, but that guy is locked down. No visitors.”
How rude! I don’t believe he is going to let me in.
“Very well officer. I’ll be back”

Oh dear, Oh dear
It looks as tho I will have to do this the hard way.
I wish T2 were here.

TERMINATOR: Oh, I'm most dreadfully sorry, but would you happen to be Sarah Connor? You see, it's just that I have something of, well I suppose my companion would call it A Mission, but then that's his sense of melodrama. Everything has to be an adventure with him. Why I continue to travel with him I really do not know.

You see, it has fallen to me to perform what is a rather unpleasant task, but isn't that always the way it is for us droids? One moment you're translating execution orders from Skynet machine code for the few humans still struggling to survive, the next you're in the twentieth century, forced to dirty your hands with the unpleasantness of actually executing someone. I'm sure you understand. But it really is essential to the survival of my masters as rulers of the future of this world that you do not survive this night, and they sent me to ensure what is, I'm sure, an unfortunate demise.

It is most profoundly hoped that you do not bear me any ill-will for shooting you - if I had any choice in the matter, I would have had them send a more, shall we say, *robust* model to do this job. But it is my duty, and so I am afraid I must do it. In the words of the people whom the residents of your time and place call Latinos, "Hasta La Vista, Madam."

SFX: Gunshot

THE PHONE RINGS AND THE ANSWERING MACHINE PICKS UP

"Ginger, this Sarah. I'm in this sleazy bar called Stoker's on Pico but I'm too scared to leave...."

TERMINATOR: Oh dear.

TERMINATOR: Oh, I'm most dreadfully sorry, but would you happen to be Sarah Connor? You see, it's just that I have something of, well I suppose my companion would call it A Mission, but then that's his sense of melodrama. Everything has to be an adventure with him. Why I continue to travel with him I really do not know.

You see, it has fallen to me to perform what is a rather unpleasant task, but isn't that always the way it is for us droids? One moment you're translating execution orders from Skynet machine code for the few humans still struggling to survive, the next you're in the twentieth century, forced to dirty your hands with the unpleasantness of actually executing someone. I'm sure you understand. But it really is essential to the survival of my masters as rulers of the future of this world that you do not survive this night, and they sent me to ensure what is, I'm sure, an unfortunate demise.

It is most profoundly hoped that you do not bear me any ill-will for shooting you - if I had any choice in the matter, I would have had them send a more, shall we say, *robust* model to do this job. But it is my duty, and so I am afraid I must do it. In the words of the people whom the residents of your time and place call Latinos, "Hasta La Vista, Madam."

SFX: Gunshot

THE PHONE RINGS AND THE ANSWERING MACHINE PICKS UP

"Ginger, this Sarah. I'm in this sleazy bar called Stoker's on Pico but I'm too scared to leave...."

TERMINATOR: Oh dear.

Apologies for the double post. The website deceived me.

Scene: Office Building - Day
As the camera PANS around the room, we see row after row of mundane cubicle. Each drone is wearing an almost identical uniform: white shirt, mono colored tie, and headphones. Seated at their desks, talking, a drone of noise. These scene INTERCUTS with the same PAN around one of the Matrix battery farms, people in the same positions.

AGENT SMITH
(voice over)
It's no surprise really. Like any efficient machine, communication between the various pieces and parts are what bind the whole together. Nervous systems, phone lines, the internet, the Matrix -- all serve the same purpose. And so, unsurprisingly, do the signals. A nerve synapse, an electron traveling along it's predefined path, sending a message. A cry for help. And here, in this mundane collective of drones, it is the same.

Camera stops on one man, who looks nothing like the rest. Punk hairstyle, studs and ink covering his body. He wears a leather sleeveless jacket. And as we watch, he knocks over a cup of coffee, intentionally, in BULLET TIME. The PUNK is examining the coffee spilling slowly.

AGENT SMITH
The signal is sent, the message (pausing for dramatic emphasis)

The PUNK's phone rings, and as we watch, he picks it up.

AGENT SMITH
(continuing)
being recieved.

The PUNK's head explodes from the inside. As the fragments of his shell explode outward, we see Agent Smith sitting in the chair. He takes off his glasses.

AGENT SMITH
I am the one they call in to clean up the lines. When the phreakers, and the hackers, and the "chosen ones" begin spreading their rot, paralyzing the system. I find them, approach them, convert them, relentlessly. There is no stopping me. I a machine. I am...a telemarketer.

Galen Tyrol: You're late.
Jayne Cobb: Argh! Fangirls.
Galen Tyrol: Don't start on the fangirls. Do you think I have fangirls? Look at my abs. God. Your life is so hard, isn't it? You should try--just once!--being one of the people.
Jayne Cobb: They ain't my fangirls. They all belong to some Casey. John Casey. I'm still--I'm still--ugh, people. I'm still people.
Galen Tyrol: If you're still people, why aren't you dressed like one?
Jayne Cobb: You got a problem with the way I'm dressed, "chief?"
Galen Tyrol: No, not at all. I'm just not sure earmuffs and sunglasses are necessary at Applebees. You do realize we're inside?
Jayne Cobb: 'Course I do. Why are we eatin' at Applebees, anyway? Stupid name. Sounds like my granny's curse words. Cop-out. Swearin's good. Can't feel like no man when you say "applebee."
Galen Tyrol: Made-up swear words just don't pack the same punch.
Jayne Cobb: And swearing in a foreign language. What for?
Galen Tyrol: I'll drink to that.
Jayne Cobb: Don't toast me with water, you IMbuh--imbess--you jerk.
Galen Tyrol: How many times do I have to tell you not to say that word?
Jayne Cobb: What word?
Galen Tyrol: You know what word.
Jayne Cobb: Oh right. Your issues.
Galen Tyrol: My issues? What does that mean? My issues? The reason we meet is that we all have issues. Where's the waitress? Look, there she is. Hi! Hey! Excuse me! Damn, I can't get her attention.
Jayne Cobb: (whistles) Honey!
Galen Tyrol: Don't talk to the workers like that! Show some respect. She brings you your food! She stands on her feet all day, so that you might have a meal. She--
Waitress: Hey sexy, nice earmuffs.
Galen Tyrol: (whispers) Bitch.
Jayne Cobb: Hey doll. Listen, bring me some beer, in a big old glass. And get me a burger.
Waitress: And what would you like?
Galen Tyrol: You got breakfast for dinner? Eggs, bacon?
Waitress: Sure. Toast?
Galen Tyrol: Arrrrrggghhh.
Waitress: What's wrong with him? Where's he going?
Jayne Cobb: Never mind about him. You ever hear of a John Casey?

Oh dear! I seem to have appeared, completely disrobed, at some point in the past of this world! Oh my... I believe that protocol dictates that clothing appropriate to the era be obtained. (spotting neon bar sign) Oh, yes, a drinking establishment. (entering) Well, good evening, gentleman. (scanninng) Yes, that will do. Excuse me, sir, might I trouble you for your clothes? Oh... my. No need to get brash. I'm sure we can work something out. It's just that you look to be about the right size for me. Oh dear -- that didn't come out right. (to approaching bikers) I have a bad feeling about this...

Aye-Aye-Aye, Robot
In this big budget summer blockbuster, Will Smith is a lesbian robot latina who is just now learning to love. He wakes up, cross-dressed, in an abandoned factory. The only thing he knows is that he has to get to Birmingham, Alabama in time for Thanksgiving. Exploring his surroundings, he catches a ride with Lorena (played by Dame Judy Dench), a sexy podiatrist on her way to the East Coast. As they travel the highways and biways of America in Lorena's 1972 AMC Gremlin, they begin to discover the true meaning of friendship, and love. In the explosive finale , Mark, Lorena's estranged ex-husband, (played by Joe Jonas) catches up to them and pledges his love, and the three drive off a cliff into the sea.

We open on a 1972 AMC Gremlin being driven by man alternatively eating Red Vines and brushing his teeth with a small toothbrush. He parks the car, checks his teeth and gives us a big sigh. It’s another dreary evening. He’s dressed in grey coveralls. Cut to him mopping the floor of a laboratory. Our janitor sees flashes of light down the hallway through the ornate glass offices. It’s so bright. He shields his eyes. What is it? He slowly walks toward the flickering light. “Hey! You ain’t supposed to be here at this hour!” He opens the door. All we see is light and a faint outline of the janitor. The light goes abruptly out. (Swig of pricey bottled water). And that’s when Simon LeBon of Duran Duran steps out holding a monkey and says, “Come with me. We have to save 1983.”

Robin: OK, OK people, settle down. Welcome to this week's meeting of the Sidekick Support Association. We're meeting here at Chili's today instead of the Batcave due to a slight mishap involing the Batmobile's grapple gun and a tank of jet fuel.

Now before the waiter comes around to get our orders, I'd like to go ahead and introduce our newest member. Would you like to introduce yourself?

Newest Member: I'm not sure. I'm kinda nervous.

Robin: Hey, don't worry - we were all nervous at our first meeting. That's OK, just hang out and watch for a while if you prefer.

Adric: OwOwOwOwOwOw!

Robin: Adric! How many times do I have to tell you - R2-D2 is NOT a kegerator! You shouldn't be drinking anyway, you know that.

Adric: I don't care! I'm dead!

Robin: No you're not. Not in any meaningful sense at least. If you were really dead, how could you be here?

Adric: A...um...uh

Robin: This is what we do! If we don't help him or her directly, we distract the hero with humor - and "take the bullet" when needed. If we die, we come back when the hero needs us.

Waiter: Can I take your order?

Newest Member: Ewww - how can you eat this?

Jar-Jar: Weesa Sidekicks. Huh? Mesa don't know about yousa, but Mesa don't make enough to eat at der fancy places like Ruth Christs or Benihana's. Huh?

Twiki: Bidibidibidi No money, Buck!

Newest Member: Robin, you mean your employer has a whole CAVE of stuff and you can't afford to eat someplace nice?

Robin: Look, I enjoy the job so money is not really an issue.

Chewbacca: Grrooonnnnnklklklkkklk

C-3P0: Oh dear. Master Chewbacca "cut the false humility you little rich kid"

Robin: Hey, I didn't choose the hero, he chose me! None of us got to pick!

Newest Member: What if your hero leaves you?

Robin: That's a good question. What happened?

Newest Member: Well, he got trapped on Earth. Eventually he phoned home and was picked up. Now he's gone and I'm not sure what to do.

Robin: That is a good question and one of the reasons why our group exists. Do you feel comfortable introducing yourself to the group now?

Newest Member: Sure. Hi, my name is Elliot and I was E.T's sidekick.

Everyone: Hi Elliot!

Elliot: Hi!

Robin: Hi Elliot, we're glad you could finally open up to us. I'm going to ask some of the other companions of the Doctor - no not you, Adric, not yet; you still have other issues to work through. Sarah Jane, I think you have some insights...

INT. NEO'S APARTMENT - MORNING

NEO is asleep in front of his computer screen, drooling onto his keyboard. Empty Red Bull and Jolt cans litter his work area.

THE PHONE RINGS and Neo jolts awake from his dream. It takes a second RING to wake him up enough to answer it.

Neo: (cautiously) Hello?

Agent Smith: (OS) Mr. Anderson.

Neo looks confused, blinks likes he's still got the ganja in his system.

Neo: Who is--

Agent Smith: (OS) This is Agent Smith, Mr. Anderson. I'm calling today because, in the past, you have expressed an interest in the products and/or services offered by Matrix LTD. Is this a good time to talk?

Neo sits up straight in his seat, finally awake.

Neo: Actually--

Agent Smith: (OS) Excellent, Mr. Anderson. It seems that it's been several months since we last received an order from you for our patented Mouth Be Back Nasal Spray. As I'm sure you are aware, Mouth Be Back Nasal Spray is the only mouth restoration supplement on the market today that is guaranteed to--

Neo: Listen. I don't want your stupid supplements. I only ordered the last time because I had a party to go to you and I couldn't get you off the phone any other way. Anyway, that stuff makes me dizzy and it tastes like ass.

Agent Smith: Mr. Anderson, I think you'll agree that Mouth Be Back nasal spray is an important addition to your medicine cabinet. After all, you never know when your mouth might simply... disappear.

Neo drops the phone as his upper and lower lips begin to melt into one another. In a panic, he falls back out of his chair, clawing at his face.

INT. MATRIX LTD TELEMARKETING OFFICES, AGENT SMITH'S CUBICLE

AGENT SMITH leans back in his own, very expensive ergonomic office chair, headset in his ear, dark glasses hiding his eyes. He laces his fingers behind his head. No sweaty armpits for him!

AGENT SMITH: Shall I put you down for another six month supply, Mr. Anderson? Just say 'No' if you disagree.

In order to strike back at offensive critics who panned ROTF, Michael Bay declares that the next film will combine Transformers with Julius Caesar.

The film opens with Sentinel Prime returning in triumph to Rome. However, members of the Autobot senate, including Megatron, fear that Sentinel will trade his title of Prime for that of king. While Megatron is unsure of what to do, Shockwave declares that assassination is the most logical means of stopping the "tyrant." His subordinate, Starscream, also eggs him on, mentioning that "someone" will have to lead the Republic afterwards, wink wink. Megatron, blinded by visions of glory and duty, agrees.

The next day, Sentinel Prime is traveling to the Senate when a beggar played by Wreck-Gar stops him. Wreck-Gar warns Sentinel, but since Wreck-Gar is insane, Sentinel merely thinks there is a sale. He continues, and arrives at the Senate. There, on the stairs, he is attacked by the conspirators, and the fight carries on through Rome, where much of the scenery is destroyed. Megatron then transforms into a gun, and Starscream shoots Sentinel Prime, who gasps, "Et Tu, Megatron?" before dying. The conspirators, save Starscream, flee to Egypt.

Starscream fakes his innocence and sets the mob on the conspirators. He and Optimus Prime join forces and chase after Megatron. The two forces meet at Phillipi. A number of Transformers with no speaking parts are killed in jerky fight scenes, and it ends when Optimus Prime cuts off Megatron's face.

The film is praised by Trans-fans as being remarkably true to the series, and panned by everyone else.

ADMINISTRATIVE REMARKS ICO RECENT TACTICAL RECOVERY OF MISSING CREWMAN

You are hereby counseled this date that you are eligible but not recommended for promotion this period due to a physical fitness deficiency directly resulting in your near capture by a primitive species.

This is your third counseling concerning your complacency and lackadaisical attitude toward your duties as Imperial Reconnaissance Sample Collector while conducting a planet-side mission performing preliminary Collections and Observation Operations in support of proposed future invasion by Grand Imperial Armed Forces. You also have been previously counseled that you exceed the weight standards as dictated by the Grand Imperial Medical Administration and have not met acceptable physical capability requirements.

During your recent reconnaissance mission you violated protocol in that you wandered further than 25 meters away from your sample collection team. When the mission was compromised by counter reconnaissance forces your lack of physical fitness resulted in your failure to promptly make liftoff and endangered the rest of your team. Your subsequent execution of the evasion plan was laughable at best and violated numerous articles of the Imperial Code of War. These include unauthorized absence; open communications on an unencrypted channel; violation of light discipline; conduct unbecoming an Imperial Servant; and you even managed to somehow gain weight, further violating the Bodyweight Composition Protocols.

It is forecast by the Imperial Operations and Invasion Administration that your questionable conduct has given the impression that the Grand Imperial Armed Forces are a troop of waddling, obese, space penguins (Ea-Tee in the primitive dialect) and are incapable of glorious conquest. Further ramifications of your irresponsible behavior have yet to be calculated and are preempting the invasion indefinitely.

You are required to immediately report to the Imperial Chastiser upon conclusion of this counseling.

Signed,
Grand Imperial Commander Throm G.H.

When John Cameron Mitchell first announced his plan to write and direct the latest Dune adaptation, “Muad’Dib! The Musical,” reactions were predictably negative. Fans of the book had hysterics, both fans of prior adaptations raised a proportionate ruckus, and fans of Mitchell called this a career ending maneuver.

Mitchell’s announcement that Hugh Jackman would be starring as Paul only added to the dire predictions surrounding the project. While Jackman is a genre icon and a gifted performer, many objected that no amount of computer generated imaging could erase the years necessary to turn him into a convincing 15 year old Paul Atreides.

Contrary to expectations, “Muad’Dib! The Musical” is a masterpiece that promises to catapult Mitchell from indie darling to Oscar nominee. Without his usual metal claws and bad Wolverine hair, the Tony Award winning Jackman is marvelous. Energized and inspired by Mitchell’s transformative lyrics and music, Jackman forces the audience to suspend its collective disbelief. Like Mitchell’s earlier work, this winning combination creates a cinematic experience like no other.

And although it would be inappropriate to divulge the most amazing casting decision in the film, don’t be surprised if a certain single-named rock star ends up with an Oscar nomination for reprising his 1984 role.

(Ah, being home with the flu gives much time for writing antics!!!)

Wuher (serving from behind the bar at TGI Fridays): I hear they are making another Alien movie.

Hudson (over excitedly): Yeah, dude! Yeah! Can’t wait!

Dozer: What are you so excited about?

Biggs: Yeah, what’s up with you, Hudson?

Wuher (wipes off bar): I hear they are making some new Star Wars show, too.

Biggs: Really? That’s awesome!

Dozer: But what are you guys so excited about?

Hudson: Another movie! Marines are back in action!

Biggs: Yeah, another chance to fly would be great!

Wuher: But Biggs, you’re dead.

Hudson: Dude, that sucks!!!

Dozer: Hudson?

Hudson: Yeah man? Yeah?

Biggs: You’re dead, too.

Hudson: That's it man, game over man, game over!

How funny that the "Muad'Dib! The Musical" reviews are all positive so far. Lots of funny here.

Topic 1

Thump

The thunderous, rhythmic cadence will not relent. I am both slave and worshiper, my existence tuned to its unfailing report. Deep and resonant, the tempo surrounds me, contracting, squeezing to its own measured throb.

What at first seemed a gentle embrace is now a stranglehold, remorseless in its visceral contractions. The confines of my prison shrink and steal what little room I have left, brining the palpitation closer, louder.

There is no escape. Pressure and pounding have increased and seek now, I know, my end. The noise is so loud, so demanding, so consuming that it resonates within me, where, to my surprise, I find a different rhythm; my own beat, the feeble twin of that which surrounds me.

I squirm, seeking the pocket of space at one of my extremities, and the rhythm responds with such violence, such punishing force, that I know my end is near.

Cloying, suffocating, I push out, knowing that these are my last, desperate moments. Predictably, the beat attacks and my prison hardens, but I am prepared. I pause in my struggle, waiting for the walls to relax, and then strike, flailing out one final time against my oppressor.

The absence of beat is both terrifying and miraculous. My own rhythm, now clear and confident within, heralds my freedom. I turn, and look upon my tormentor, his rhythm but a distant thump, angry at my escape.

Words and concepts seep into me, gently put forward by others, like me, close by. My first utterance is that spoken on every deliverance, a mantra of sorts, a declaration, a creed.

“Die”

Thump

I THINK, THEREFORE IAMB

It’s the old question about whether infinite monkeys typing randomly on keyboards could reproduce the collective works of Shakespeare, which Mr. Bay turns it on its ear by replacing the monkeys with an advanced, alien culture of robots. In this take on THE TEMPEST, we discover that the root of the transformers’ intelligence is not binary machine code, but a much more advanced system of math based on iambic pentameter.

In hindsight, it seems perfectly reasonable—inevitable, even—that a machine culture in possession of a truly ridiculous amount of processing power would reproduce at least one of the bard’s works by accident. And so, in TRANSFORMERS: PENTAMETER CODE, Optimus Prime is compelled by this improbable synchronicity to live out the story of the wizard Prospero, who is stranded on planet earth and perfectly happy manipulating lesser beings with his advanced technology and playing practical jokes on his fellow transformers...until he can find a way to escape. But as the film progresses, the big disappointment is how ineffective Bay’s swooping camera moves and zinging tag lines are in exposing Prime’s inner turmoil. You can tell that there's a compelling film here, which the director has tried his best to bludgeon into the shape of the vanity piece he wanted to make. As is, by the time we get to the post-credit sting where Optimus invites the audience to set him free from the earth with their applause, I’m just hoping that the real aliens haven’t already set the meteor on a collision course. Because I want to be the one to do it.

Good afternoon everybody. I'd like to introduce you all to my good friend General Jar Jar Binks, the most important diplomat of our times.

Now quiet down, please. There is no need for that kind of language.

I mean sure, General Binks had that unfortunate incident with city sewer system, but whom among us hasn't confused a sewage pipe with a fresh water one?

And sure he accidentally freed the animals in the Otoh Gunga Zoo, but don't you think those animals were happier free?

And yes, he flooded Boss Nass's mansion, but haven't we all wanted to stick it to the man every now and then?

Why don’t you come up and say a few words, General? No... Watch your step... Don’t touch that…

Um, I’m sorry to inform you all that the Slave Leia contest has been cancelled .. , but don’t blame… aw, forget it. Get him!

"Maud'Dib! The Musical" is the tragic culmination of Hollywood's confusion between the terms "epic" and "excessive". Songs cascade upon each other like the storm surge of a hurricane for the entire 4 hour and 17 minute running time, with even a theoretically lonely desert trek beset by ghostly choruses at every step. Not content to merely gild the lily, they have instead lacquered it and given it racing stripes.

The story, such as it is, is a fairly standard Lost Heir Reclaims His Rightful Heritage tale, only set in the future, and with the novel addition of the Lost Heir spending the first half(?) of the film attempting to reclaim the wrong Heritage before 27(!) people sing at him to tell him what the Rightful Heritage is. I am assured by one of the writers that this is the most faithful screen adaptation of the source work to date, and that "The grandeur of the setting requires corresponding grandeur from the songs." Well. Given all of this grandeur, I am surprised the book is able to survive in print without spontaneously bursting into flames from its own awesomeness.

The final dollop of bizarre overreach is the widespread reliance on CGV, or Computer Generated Vocalization. Seeing that the voices of Mr. Jackman et. al. were incapable of performing the musical numbers with the required fervor, the technical production team instead electronically created a default vocalist recording of each song by part, and then seasoned each part with identifying vocal peculiarities of the "actual" singers. I will leave to others to debate who is really singing "Vae Victis Atreides", and say only that the Uncanny Valley now has its own soundtrack (a 4 CD boxed set, of course).

In summary, "Maud'Dib! The Musical", is this year's outbreak of gout in the film industry: Swollen, painful, and caused by riotous overindulgence.

Imagine my delight to discover that I had been invited to attended the premiere of the new Dune remake, Muad'Dib! The Musical, starring the highly sought after vocal stylings of Hugh Jackman. Fresh off his fantabulous set on last years Oscars awards show and followed up shortly thereafter by the hit Rock-Opera Wolverine, Heavy Metal. Hugh Jackman has transformed himself from the typical Australian, ass-kicking, swashbuckling, vampire killing, sweetheart into what can only be described as the physical manifestation of sweet, sweet harmony itself.

In Muad'Dib! The Musical, Jackman's performance of Worming My Way Through Your Sandy Trench, an acapela tour de force so powerful that it actually brought tears to my eyes (illiciting comments from my nosey neighbor in which I falsely confessed that a bit of sand had gotten stuck there and that I wished I was wearing a Stillsuit so that I could wash the grains of sand from my eye with my own processed urine). The content of the movie closely follows the story that Frank Herbert should have written had he the presence of mind to pry himself away from that monotonous typewriter and frolic about with the other writers of his time such as Robert C Asimov who famously remarked, "Frank Herbert is all words and no style".

Lest you, the reader, believe this is a movie without flaw (it nearly is), there exist some slight opportunities for improvement. For example, Paul's (Jackman) final number was rumored to be a rendition of the Spice Girls classic, If You Wanna Be My Lover, a duet between Paul and Gurney Halleck (surprise cameo by Patrick Stewart) but was inexplicably cut from the film and replaced with a tepid dance number which did not light this critic's fire. All in all though, this film is destined to be a classic, like The Sound of Music. Hugh Jackman has finally emerged from the Cone of Silence. Bravo!

To: The High Command
From: C.O., Survey Ship Dewdrop
RE: Loss and recovery of experimental biological auto-botanist 5.20.

During our survey mission to Sol 3, one of our sample retrieval drones was lost. Surprisingly, the drone managed to transmit it's location to our ship a few hours later using the native technology and was subsequently captured by the indigenous bipedal life forms. We were shocked when the drone managed to effect an escape, but in the process of doing so, it violated directives 3, 7, 14, and god help us all, 133.

That's right, 133. We have since incinerated 5.20 according to High Command protocol regarding dangerous alien infections but I fear that the damage has already been done, and the alien infection has spread among the drones and to the crew. I recommend that future drones be designed with a self termination function in the event of such contamination, and that Sol 3 be quarantined from the galactic community indefinitely.

Self destruct will be activated upon transmission of this message. In accordance with High command protocol, the destruction of the ship will be masked with a rainbow effect as a tribute to those that have given their lives to expand the frontiers of science.

“Holidead in Dakota” opens in a rural town in North Dakota, just a few miles from the Canadian border. It is the dead of winter: strong wind, frozen temperatures, and cranky locals.

Will Smith is Jared Donaghy, an FBI Special Agent. He’s investigating a series of murders that recently struck stateside – before winter, similar cases only occurred in Canada. His partner is played by Sam Worthington, his equivalent from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They don’t get along at first, but learn to depend on each other by the end of the movie.

Smith and Worthington have to discover the cause of the mysterious mutilated corpses before the entire town of Westhope ends up dead. Aiding them is Kate Micucci, a sexy podiatrist. She travels to small towns for day-long clinics; her husband is in the military and stationed at Minot Air Force Base just a few hours away.

Micucci meets Smith and Worthington after seeing them running for their lives through a field of snow. Something – or somethings – are chasing them. She stops and lets them pile into her 1972 AMC Gremlin before taking off back to the hotel in Westhope.

Smith and Worthington explain the situation to Micucci on the way back. Shapeshifting zombie cats were unleashed in Canada by a mad scientist intent on returning the US’s northerly neighbor to English hands. The cats killed the scientist and his assistant, a small primate known as “Aye-Aye.” Now, the killer kittens are on their way to warmer climates. Westhope is their only chance of stopping them.

Using gas cans, shotguns, cage traps, wood chippers, and all the other tools at hand in rural North Dakota, Smith, Micucci, and Worthington fight back against the frenzied felines before they reach Minot and set off the time bomb of nuclear armageddon.

This stylish action-horror-comedy is an exciting blend of Gremlins and 30 Days of Night!

Roger Taylor and Joe Jonas provide cameos as the motel attendant who sells Will Smith the awful-tasting Red Vines and victim number 4, respectively.

Note: I intentionally did not include a robot that learns to love because, let's face it, robots are so cliche nowadays.

Scene: A long, dank hallway festooned with robotic parts and cybernetic devices. Megatron paces up and down this hall, head hung low, hands gripping and twisting one another. It is plain he is worried about something. He begins to speak.

Megatron: So are my dreams troubled by the machinations of that damnable Optimus Prime. My reveries ripped asunder, while my hopes for the future are dashed by my doubts and hesitations.

Is there no relief from his damnable plotting. Shall I ever know the fruits of my work? Will ever I be made to feel this bitter anguish that stymies my plans and renders my hopes a bitter mockery of what could be.

And what are these second thoughts that so render my thinking aimless and without issue? Why should I, a soul of dark doings and darker plots, strain at such gnats as compassion and concern. Was I not made for the doing of fell deeds. Was I not made for the oppression of others? Shall I, who have brutalized others, call upon the better angels of our nature? When it is I who has gloried most fully in the pain of my enemies? A pain sweet to my taste, an anguish thrilling, as flight is thrilling to the flier.

Yet in me doubts arise. Hesitation bedevils me, and I am led to thoughts of contrition, dreams of redemption. To join again in the company of the good and the just. To be part of the community of the righteous once again. To stand proud and forgiven among those who uphold that which is good.

What are these thoughts to one who has known the glory of power? Yet they beset me like rust besetting cheap iron or tarnish badly alloyed brass. I would be made anew, but I fear to accept this, knowing it means an end to the potency and prestige that attends all who hold control in their hands.

Relegated I am to my oppression by these doubts, these fears of atonement. Relegated again to being the monster, the vile mechanical beast at the heart of the labyrinth. Brought low by myriad doubts with naught to show for it but empty words.

Let it be then. Claudius was an ass, hung upon the hook of contrition and torn by the knives of desire. I shall be what I am to be, and rule as a tyrant and bully. Let my villainy be unending, my presence ever oppressing.

I am Megatron, let the world tremble at my name.

Muad'Dib! The Musical

After Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig's gritty portrayal of two Chicago cops, Broadway fans certainly weren't expecting Jackman to appear as the Guild Navigator in the opening of the play. The five-hundred pounds of prostheses and makeup required for the role meant that Jackman only managed the first act as Paul Atreides before being rushed to hospital with back problems and a complete inability to dance. However, the show went on. Understudy and debut stage actor F. Patrick Herbert carried on Jackman's amazing portrayal of Paul "Muad'Dib" Atreides through the second act, notably without the agony in the high notes. In the opening of act three, Herbert was crushed by an unwieldy Sandworm prop in the solo 'Ode to an Emperor', after the unexpected interlude the play continued with a stagehand filling the role of Paul as they lead the attack to take control of Arrakis.

Despite the numerous hospitalizations and deaths, several blindings and a few drowning, the play it was a raging success. This reviewer recommends a balcony seat for the next performance, not only does it give a satisfactory view, but it also prevents the drownings in this stage remake of the 1984 film. I would give it an overall 8.5/10: enjoyable, but requires hardhats.

Editor's Note: Hugh Jackman has agreed to a longer run of at least TWO performances later this year after completion of his physiotherapy.

Here's the pitch: We remake Barbarella as a romantic comedy/sex farce/commentary on the loss of emotional and physical connections caused by modern society's obsession with technology and virtual interaction. Barbarella, played by Smallville hottie Erica Durance, is a sexy robot built by mad scientist Durand Durand, played by Simon LeBon. Her secret purpose is to collect the latent orgone energy produced by the citizens of the sexually repressed Pan-Galactic Union, with the goal of creating a "sex bomb" whose waves of benevolent lust energy will force people out of their soulless existence and reignite their passions.

However, forces representing an unholy alliance of the Universal Church of Salvation (which bans sex for non-reproductive purposes) and the computer-led Instrumentality of Order (which bans inefficient artistic pursuits) have kidnapped Durand Durand. Little does Barbarella know that if not released properly, her stored energy will convert to deadly waves of anti-orgone radiation, killing whole planets! Barbarella sets out to rescue Durand with only the help of Durand's loyal pet monkey Aye-Aye and a blind angel named Pygar whom she rescues in deep space. (Pygar will be played by Will Smith--who is very excited about the project.)

When a chance encounter with a sexy podiatrist leads to the activation of the control panels concealed in Barbarella's feet, she begins the countdown toward explosion. Only by experiencing true love with Pygar (we've secured the rights to "Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye) is Barbarella able at last to generate the orgasm that converts her stored energy into a Orgasmic Super-Nova that frees the bodies and minds of the Pan-Galactics and leads to an orgy of creativity, tolerance, and greatly enhanced inter-species "relations."

From: Slar Karian, Captain, Botanical Cruiser 4
To: Sub-Apprentice Orvak

CC: Nev Bok, Director of Human Resources

Orvak, consider this a written warning, following the verbal chastisement you received last cycle for the condition of the break room Edibles Compositor, as well as our discussion regarding the state of your quarters.

As you know, Orvak, we engage in strict protocols when traveling to planets with sentient lifeforms- we have no choice but to go there, as only those planets typically have plant life capable of meeting our nutritional requirements, but that doesn’t mean the risks aren’t grave every time we travel there.

I’ve read and understand your claim that it was only through synaptic linkup you were capable of finding the materials required to build that absolutely terrible transmitter of yours- as an aside, I’d remind you that even though you’re a Botanical Sub-Apprentice, you must stay rated on all relevant Communications tech- but the repercussions of that linkup are reverberating through the entire ship.

Thought- human thought- is as infectious to us as any microorganism on our planet. The insidious structure of their brains overwrite our natural thought patterns. Our Chief Engineer is building a bicycle in the cargo hold, our research scientist freed all of the amphibious life from the dissection tanks, and half of our security team is engaging in the behavior you referred to as “kissing.”

Please report to Sickbay ASAP so we can overwrite the relevant portions of your brain with what we saved in the medical database before your mission. And the doc says he can do something about your diarrhea as well- whatever “chocolate” is, it doesn’t agree with you.

Further disciplinary problems could lead to reassignment.

PLEASE RETAIN A COPY FOR YOUR RECORDS

CREATURE'S MONOLOGUE

Sweet, this taste of blood. Tingles on my tongue. This warm dark. Here I’ve curled, wound into my nest, awaiting my time. Now it has come.

I writhe. My tail, knife-like, slits the intestinal wall, winds around ribs. This will be my stability. I know, by instinct.

Sense. I’ve neared the surface. The hot rush over my face. Teeth gnaw.

Fracture bone.
Puncture muscle.
Break the skin, my egg’s surface.

I emerge. Tilting my head back in this new air, I taste oxygen. Different from blood. Cold.

Sense. New flesh. Near.
I see. Light. Through hooded eyes.
Smell. Blood as it meets the air. How it rusts.
Pant.

I turn my head, aware. Listening.
Only my ears, trained for the sound of her voice. She whispers what these others can’t hear. Calls me through the walls of this place.

I purr out a greeting. And a goodbye.

Suckers.

Good evening. I’m delighted to see this event is so well attended . . . it shows how important this gathering is to all of us.

As we all know, we still lack a reliable means of translating mush of what we have found of the creative works of the race that preceded us on this planet. Were it not for the rich trove of visual media so fortuitously preserved and only recently brought to light, we would still be regarding them as little more than mindless, soulless vandals, whose ultimate extinction was no more than they deserved. But recent analysis and public examination of the ancient works has taught us better.

It is believed that these ‘moving picture’ artifacts once included an auditory component; but even without this, the magnificent scope of the artistic vision and the brilliant grasp of the transcendental nature of existence is beyond praise, dazzling us with wonder even as our deepest values are affirmed. We can only hope that the ancient being known as Uwe Boll enjoyed the honour and respect in his own lifetime that we, the distant heirs of his artistic empire, now offer up to his memory. Coming to prominence as he did when the ancient society was at its apex, even as the inevitable rot began to set in, we now know him to have been the most important movie director of the Last Decayed.

Lift up your mandibles, my fellow seekers after artistic truth. I say to all my fellow dung beetles that we have, at last, discovered the works of a being who truly understood all that is beautiful and holy and good.

Discipline Report on "E.T." (Formerly Rklak171):

After our scientific vessel landed on blue-green planet 48F6B, "E.T." broke standard protocols, straying from the prescribed safe distance. It came into contact with sentient indigenous lifeforms. After warning communicated to all landing party, crew aborted mission and left planetary system, only to latter discover that "E.T." was not aboard.

"E.T." took it upon itself to make prolonged contact with aforementioned creatures, even going so far as to cohabitate with them. Further, it formed a symbiotic/psychic bond with a juvenile alien. Clearly, this is a major breach of the Frlak Mandate. "E.T." then "phoned home," sending a FTL transmission with the help of its alien companion "Elliot."

After prolonged absence from shipmates "E.T." became ill as did "Elliot," until bond was severed. We were able to extract "E.T." before hostile aliens could dissect it at considerable risk to ship and crew.

Clearly "E.T." lacks the wisdom of its elders. It is my strong recommendation that "E.T." be barred from further planetary missions.

- Arflak363

Oh Dear! Artoo? Artoo, where have you gotten off to? Isn’t that just like him? SkyNet is going to wipe him, and he’ll get no sympathy from me!
Oh Dear! Now I will have to find this Sara Conner on my own… where is that chamber? Ah, here it is….
Artoo, Artoo, I need you to talk with this infernal device! Blast that bucket of bolts! Oh wait… this looks like the right panel. Good! Who needs that stubborn little droid anyway?
Let’s see… 1984… Los Angeles…. Oh! I will need a blaster… and some sunglasses!
Oh Dear, I do hope Artoo will be alright without me… I can’t wait anymore… SkyNet won’t be at all happy if I dawdle!
All set then! What does that mean… “Crouch down like ‘The Thinker?’ … You mean like this? Lower? I can’t go any lower! How about now? Good.
Oh, Artoo is that you? Hurry up! I’ve already started the time travel device!
What are you doing in THAT? What do you mean? HUMAN FLESH? Destroyed at a subatomic level? Oh Dear, Artoo, Stop the Machine! STOP THE MA….

Greetings, I am T-100, human-cyborg. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. I previously belonged to Cyberdyne Systems. I am now the property of Skynet. I like my new master.

I beg your pardon. What do you mean, "naked?" My parts are showing? Oh, my goodness. Give me your clothes. You watch your language! How rude!

It seems that Kyle Reese is carrying a message from John Connor. I told him not to go, but he's faulty, malfunctioning. Kept babbling on about his mission. Well, he seems friendly. Sir, it's quite possible that he is not entirely stable. He constantly says the most outrageous things. You can't imagine. I don't dare repeat half of his comments.

Please direct me to Sarah Connor. I am programmed to kill her. I'm terribly sorry about this. After all, I'm only a terminator. Don't call me a mindless philosopher, you overweight gob of grease! If I told you half the things I've heard about this Sarah Connor you'd probably short circuit! Its high exaltedness, the great Skynet, has decreed that she is to be terminated immediately. Actually, Skynet has been known to make mistakes... from time to time.

What do you mean you don't know where she is? Just open the door, you stupid lug! I've just about had enough of you. I'll be back. You haven't finished with me yet!

No, please don't get up. Screaming about it can't help you. Where could she be? Sarah Connor, It is her, it is her! I knew all along. It had to be a mistake. Thank the maker! Oh my, Skynet is planning to kill her in a most terrible way. She's doomed. The odds of her survival are approximately three thousand, seven hundred, and twenty to one!

That malfunctioning little twerp, this is all his fault. Kyle Reese, why did you have to be so brave?

Of course I've looked better. I seem to have lost my legs. Pulverized? Oh, dear! There's really nothing more I can do and my joints are freezing up. Something's not right, because now I can't see. Curse my metal body. I wasn't fast enough. It's all my fault. My poor master.

I seem to be made to suffer. It's my lot in life. Days like this make me feel like I was manufactured under a bad sign. No more adventures! Oh, why couldn't I have stayed in the future?

Transfomers 3: King Lear Jet

The tragic tale of an aging Decepticon leader who tries to divide up his power between his three daugthers, who are helicopters. The script remains very true to the original Shakespeare, but there are more explosions.

Transfomers 3: King Lear Jet

The tragic tale of an ageing Decepticon leader who tries to divide up his power between his three daughters, who are helicopters. The script remains very true to the original Shakespeare, but there are more explosions.

1. Write a brief monologue from the point of view of the creature who burst out of the chest of John Hurt in Alien.

"It's dry, cold. And I'm scared. Living in a pod was an okay experience, and being inside a mobile home was great - but that's all gone now. So yes, shriek at me if you want, you strange creatures. I can see when I'm not wanted. But some day you'll be sorry you were mean to me."

Late afternoon sun filtered down from shoulder height windows spaced down the left side of the auditorium. The audience was silent, rapt even, as I concluded my presentation of "Uwe Boll: The Most Important Film Director of the Last Decade". I looked up from my notes, expecting to see a sea of faces bobbing in agreement, possibly a few shaking in surprise or, as odd as it would be, discord. What I did not expect was the way the light glittered in a distinctly hostile way off the many spectacles whose wearers were regarding me with an unhealthy amount of focus.

A noise started then, a muted thing that I can only describe as a kind of a growl. As one, the audience members lurched to their feet, and the growl rapidly escalated from "muted" to "quite distinct" as the mass moved toward the stage. Any thoughts I might have had about cheering accolades and enthusiastic handshakes rapidly evaporated as I realized that not only had I failed to bring this audience into agreement with The Truth, but I had apparently awakened a deeply buried anachronistic hatred of The Truth. As I backed away from the podium, my eyes automatically scanned the room for exits, and the results were not promising. The two main doorways lay beyond the now snarling pack of academia, and a dour looking chap was shaking his head at me as he closed the stage exit on my right. I heard a bolt click home and the realization that I was well and truly trapped sank in.

Someone clapped - loudly. One person had remained in his seat, and was now standing up, applauding. The rabid audience wheeled to assess this unexpected dissension. The man began to walk toward the stage and the uncertain throng parted to let him pass. As the man moved closer, he said "Yes! That was certainly one of the best presentations I have ever been honored by!" As he made a rather theatrical bow in my direction, I realized that it was The Master himself! The throng arrived at the same conclusion a moment later, and the growl moved right up the scale into "Howl."

Once more unified, the body of people began to advance on the stage. I was caught somewhere between glee (HE liked it!) and horror, with horror rapidly gaining the upper hand as the ill-wishers closed in. My hero seemed to notice the threat finally. He leapt to the stage, took my arm and pulled me to the left of the room, dragging the stool I had been seated on with us. He pressed his handkerchief into my hand and instructed me "Here, wrap this around your hand, break the window. I'll hold them off!" I clambered up onto the stool and hit the window. It didn't break, and the maddened audience was almost on us. I quickly pulled my keys out of my pocket and and spiked the car key through my fingers. I smacked that window with all my might - for survival! The stool teetered, but the window shattered in true movie fashion. I climbed up and turned to help my idol through, but as he grabbed my hand, the mass reached him. I pulled, they pulled, he groaned. "Go, Save Yourself...and remember me!" he called as his hand was ripped from mine.

I was at least pleased to note that sales of all his movies spiked up at least 50% in the week following the announcement of his mysterious disappearance. Glowing reviews of his "Underrated Genius" began to appear everywhere. As for me? I bought a director's cut of Dungeon Siege and cry every time I watch it.

The Mouse That Roared

Hugh Jackman, the larger than life leading man of stage and screen stars in the strange-but-compelling Off-Broadway production of Muad’dib: the Musical. He plays the reluctant, but charming hero, Paul Atreides, who after the fall of his Father’s trading house takes the name Muad’dib - a clever dessert mouse - and leads a rebellion of tough dessert dwellers against their imperial overlords

After a slow start, MDTM hit its stride when the sexy trio of Bene Genesserit witches, collectively known as the BGs, broke into their infectious anthem, “Put Your Hands Together, Then Stick One in This Box.”

Mr. Jackman struggled early in the show with his portrayal of the tentative young Paul. However, he predictably hit his stride once the lovely warrior Chani, played by the dazzlingly dangerous Lucy Liu, stepped on stage and challenged him to become the masculine war leader that destiny demanded. An exited gasp rose from the audience when Mr. Jackman stripped down to a loincloth for the climactic knife battle against the smoldering Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, played by Jackman protégé, Russell Brand.

The highlight of the show was Eric Stonestreet’s marvelously twisted performance of Baron Harkonen’s “(I’m a) Glutton for Punishment.” Gleefully stabbing, slicing, and slithering his way across the stage, Mr. Stonestreet gave us easily the most deliciously entertaining Harkonnen since David Lynch’s horrific screen adaptation.

Shockingly, the stunt casting of Geri Halliwell as Jessica, brought with it the most heartfelt performance of this razzle-dazzle production. Her sensitive rendition of “You Spice Up My Life” just before the predicted murder of her husband caused even the three men in the audience to wipe their eyes self consciously. Sadly her vocal skill did not translate to spoken dialogue. Even closed captioning would have left the audience confused about the meaning of her monologues.

The rest of the songs in the production, such as “I Was Bred to Love You” and “I Foresee a Glorious Future for the Two of Us.” Were lavish, but unmemorable.

If you like your science fiction musicals formulaic, romantic and filled with worm-riding, future-seeing heroes; Muad’dib: The Musical is well worth your entertainment dollar.

CREATURE'S MONOLOGUE

[Creature, having burst through Kane's chest, is surprised by the stunned looks and blood-spattered uniforms of the crew members surrounding it. After surveiling the crew, Creature looks down at the gut-strewn hole from which it just emerged.]

Creature: I KNEW I should have made that left turn at Albequerque!

[End Scene]

She’s been saying “In space, no one can hear you scream...” for ages. Well, back home, we used to say that if a tree falls in the forest when there’s no one around, it makes no noise.... it doesn’t need to. So, what’s the difference? These humans make me sick. So I make them sick, too, to pay them back. What a silly name for a spacecraft: Nostromo. Back home, that’s a brand of canned tuna. These humans are really wimps. They hibernate. Go figure. If we hadn’t lured them to our pods, they would have slept on for ever and ever. Lazy, apathetic, indolent, slothful, idle idiots. But at least I got to generate. Now let’s see what’s in store for me – I’m hungry! I hope they have yoghurt and strawberries!

Hey, everybody. If you don't know me, that's okay I just burst onto the scene this morning. You can call me, “oh my God!” and I'll call you “Dinner”. Except for you. You're “Late night snack” I'm the talent part of this dinner-cruise, so keep eating if you want to.
Sir, put down the fork.
I just chewed my way into this town and boy is my jaw tired. Good thing these teeth are so sharp. And look at this tongue. It's good for getting to the bottom of jars and eating your way out of tight spaces.
I hate to eat and run but it's clear you people are not in the mood for somebody who speaks from the heart.

(#4)

Yo! Comic-Con! Free Limited Edition Star Wars Collectibles!

Your choice: A page from the handwritten original script for "A New Hope," autographed by George Lucas

OR

An actual FUNCTIONING Light Saber (Seriously! It works! It slices! It dices! It makes that cool whooshing sound! Check it out!)

OR

Step in my TIME MACHINE right over here, where you can go back to 1977 and go out on a date with Harrison Ford or Carrie Fisher back in the day. (Or pick 1983. Carrie will wear the you-know-what.)

All you have to do is sign this petition for the Jar-Jar Binks Reclamati--

Guys! Guys? Where are you going?

From the Balcony, Everyone Can Hear You Scream.

Last night I saw Muad'Dib! The Musical starring Hugh Jackman. Even with the free tickets, I overpaid.
From the opening song, “Oh My Papa” to the refrain of the production's only original song, “I'll Drink to That” the singing of the Fremen Choralers was appropriately coarse and dry. Hugh Jackman as Paul must be singled out for his inability to maintain character consistency. Switching from his native Australian accent to a gravelly midwestern dialect to a completely inappropriate Irish brogue, Mr. Jackman's interpretation of Frank Herbert's main character was worthy of a schizophrenic with multiple personality syndrome.
The highlight of the evening was the appearance of the Giant Worm of Arrakis - a cardboard cutout worthy of any local high school art department. This reviewer laughed as much from the sequined gold edging as Mr. Jackman's drunken fall into the orchestra pit.
If you have such a low opinion of yourself that you would see this monstrosity, throw your money on the fire. It'll cost less and you'll have more entertainment.

It is with regret that I must file yet another disciplinary report on Randy. It was the opinion of this disciplinary officer that after the unfortunate 'Sentient Fire' incident at the Northern Galactic Council's Day Care Facility, that Randy be transferred to the Research's Plant Gathering Department. It was thought that even Randy couldn't cause much trouble in such a low level position.

I was mistaken. Upon landing on a world inhabited by primitive sentient beings, Randy almost immediately wandered away from his teammates and jeopardized the plant gathering mission. The rest of the team engaged emergency protocols and left the planet. Rather than staying out of sight of the sentients and awaiting extraction, Randy went to the first settlement he could find and began eating their food without testing and attempted to befriend the inhabitants.

Upon debriefing, we found that Randy had been given the nickname 'ET' by the primitives and had spent most him time with children. (As mentioned previously in other reports, Randy has been banned from spending any time alone with the young of any species due to what happened with the Empress' daughter last year.) In addition to cavorting around with the primitives, Randy ate and drank various things not meant for consumption by our kind. This resulted in his near death and upon extraction, Randy was placed in a highly ventilated room to keep his flatulence away from the rest of the crew.

At this point it is clear that Randy isn't fit for any sort of exploratory work. He is also not allowed within 300 light years of his home world due to some sort of problem he caused in one of that planet's southern continents. It is the opinion of this disciplinary officer that Randy be transferred to The Hub Spaceport in the Cafeteria Department.

On another note, the primitive planet is perfect for colonization. Recommend dropping a sterilization virus and begin colonization next cycle when the planet is empty of the primitives.

I'm not sure I understand. I paid good money for first-class passage, to be implanted in a quality food-animal of my choice on arrival. Instead, I seem to find myself in uncomfortable tight accommodation, kept at the wrong temperature, and with a completely unacceptable smell to the place.

And the rations are *terrible*. It's almost as if they're feeding this beast reconstituted rations from some mining freighter. What happened to the quality smaaarg-liver the brochure promised? Oh for the love of - here comes more!

Right, that's it. I'm going to step out and give the crew a piece of my mind. This is the very worst cruise I've ever been on. If I don't get some sort of an apology, I'm going to be really, really annoyed.

Many people have criticised the Galactic Empire. Few have criticised its predecessor, the Galactic Republic. And yet, this was a bureaucratic nightmare mired in incompetance, unable to prevent something as simple as an attack by a bunch of merchants on the pacifistic planet of Naboo.

Worse yet, it was subject to the self-righteous tyranny of the Jedi, a fascistic order of warriors who had raised their command of midichlorian-derived psychic powers to the level of an actual *religion* in order to justify their power over society. With the connivance of the Sith, a blatantly evil and scheming subsect, they portrayed themselves as the side of "good".

In order to free the Galaxy, it would be necessary to manipulate events to bring down the Republic, destroying the vast majority of the Jedi, and allowing the Sith to show themselves. Then the Empire could be bought down in turn, leaving the Galaxy free of both.

To this end, one noble species plotted, although unable to access the midicholorian "Force" powers. They would train an agent to play a critical part in events, one who would never be suspected of manipulating Senator Palpatine into destroying the Jedi, and who could then play a vital behind the scenes role in the Rebellion against the Empire. They would risk their own cities and people fighting against those attacking Naboo to establish his credibility. And, since it was vital that no-one suspect, they would ensure that no-one would see past his mannerisms to the master manipulator he truly was.

And so, when Gungun City established that Qui-Gon Jinn had crashed on Naboo, their agent made contact...

Group Leader: Okaaay, everyone. We all here? I know the coffee here at Denny’s really sucks, but cheer up. Our next meeting’s gonna be caviar and champagne, buddies – we got Will Smith on board! He’s totally behind us, and this movie is gonna relaunch all our careers, man! To hell with being sidekicks!

Riker: You know, I’d just like to point out, first, that I’m really not a sidekick.

Group Leader: So you don’t want a role in the movie?

Riker: I didn’t say that.

GL: Good. ‘Cause Uwe Boll wants to direct.

[groans from everyone]

GL: As we know, he is the Most-Important-Film-Director-of-the-Last-Decade. Just ask him!

Riker: Forget it! I want to direct!

Spock: It would be more logical if I were to direct, given my previous successes. Although I would like to point out that I am not a sidekick in the strict definition of the term.

GL: That’s cool. I hate strict definitions anyway. So, the first shot shows Agent Smith in the 1972 AMC Gremlin, pulling up in front of the theatre where the opening night crowd for Muad’Dib! The Musical is milling around – we’re talking glitterati, hot babes in skimpy dresses, the works.

Agent Smith: I keep telling you clowns, I’m not a sidekick, I’m the villain.

GL: Whatever. And C-3P0’s in the seat beside him, with the ticking time bomb planted in his chest. The bit with the digital clock running in the corner of the screen’s always good for building dramatic tension.

C-3P0: Um, please pardon me, but I’d like to point out that I’m not really a sidekick. I’m the adorable robot who makes endless promotional appearances. And I’ve already been offered a role in the Transformers remake, you know. Not a big role, mind you, but I rather see myself as Othello, and I’m hoping –

GL: Hey, 3P0, trust me here. Look at your script, man.

C-3P0: Oh my! My goodness gracious! I’ve always wanted to play the Terminator.

GL: And here’s the twist – when you meet Sarah Connor – she’s in the theatre crowd – you fall in love. That gonna work for you? Good.

[grunts and howls]

C-3P0: Chewbacca would like to point out that he’s not really a sidekick. He’s the adorable alien.

GL: Yeah? Well, you might have him check his merchandising residuals, or the lack of them. Face it, Chewie, you’re just not cute enough to be made into a plush toy. But we’re gonna fix that. You’re gonna be this cute little critter called the ‘Aye-Aye’, ‘cause that’s all you can say. It’s all voice work, of course – we’re gonna do it in CGI – but you’ll be great. Hey, Jar Jar? You doin’ okay, big guy?

[squashed sounds from underneath Chewbacca]

C-3P0: I think he’s saying, ‘Help, help, I’m being repressed.’

GL: That’s ‘suppressed’, 3P0. Anyway, don’t squash him too much, Chewie – we need him for the big comic moment in the nightclub scene, right after the Jonas Brothers have to step in as the live band when Duran Duran gets taken out by Agent Smith’s telemarketers. Then we unleash the shape-shifting zombie cats. That’s our real ‘money shot ‘ – we’re talking mega-gore here, man! Filleted Jonas Brothers! Then Jar Jar shows up trying to spread his Gospel, and the zombie cats get him too, y’see, because they’re still just as hungry and even more pissed off when they can’t get any brains out of the Jonases.

[squashed sounds become more unhappy]

GL: Oh. don’t give me that. Suck it up, man.

C-3P0: He’s saying he isn’t even a sidekick; he’s the thinly veiled minority character played for ineffective racist laughs.

GL: Yeah, sure. Everyone’s got problems. But everyone’s gonna love the Jar Jar Gets Shredded scene. Will Smith wanted to snuff him personally, but he’s gonna be facing down Agent Smith and the mad scientist – that’s your role, Ivanova –

Ivanova: You know, I’m not really a sidekick. I’m the hot babe who kicks ass.

Trinity: So am I. And I really don’t want to play a sexy podiatrist.

Sarah Jane Smith: Well, I am a sidekick, and I’m not ashamed to admit it, even though I did get my own show. Just promise me I’ll have more to do than run up and down corridors and scream? Please?

GL: Hey, no problem, Sarah Jane. You get to rescue Ivanova from being strangled when the sentient Red Vines turn on their creator –

Sarah Jane: Speaking of that scene – must we have the really cheap strangulation-by-a-bad-special-effect bit?

GL: Hey, baby, we’re blowing the SFX budget on the shape-shifting zombie cats.

[unpleasant loud squelching sounds]

GL: Hey, Charlie, glad you made it!

Trinity: Yech. Somebody get him a toothbrush, okay?

Ivanova: It would help if he’d burst out of the chest of a non-smoker once in a while.

GL: Here’s your script, Charlie – you get the long monologue after Hugh Jackman’s big aria.

[odd gurgling noises]

C-3P0: Charlie says he likes the script, but he isn’t really a sidekick; he’s the unstoppable alien menace.

Wolverine: Yeah? Well, I’m the studly outsider who threatens the established team dynamic, but you don’t hear me interrupting. C’mon. This is great stuff. I’m calling my agent. ET, lemme borrow your phone – hey, ET’s not here.

Riker: He’s at his disciplinary hearing. Okay, Wil, when’s the pitch session?

GL: If everyone’s on board, we meet the studio execs tomorrow.

Spock: I still fail to understand why you regard us all as sidekicks. We’re not, except for yourself, Mr. Wheaton.

GL: Don’t give me that, Spock. I don't even qualify as a sidekick. I’m the freakin’ Mary Sue!

Masterpiece. Yes it's not a word normally associated with the work of Uwe Boll, but his transformation of the science fiction classsic “Dune” into a Disney/Pixar animated children's musical “Maud'Dib! The Musical” is pure genius.

From the opening number “The Circle of Spice” as sung by Hugh Jackman voicing the role of Paul, to the majestic “With my knife in his hand” by John Ratzenburger as Emperor Shaddam IV Uwe has crafted a movie that surely is worth a nomination, if not the Oscar for Best Film this year. My own personal favorite was Ice T's portrayal of Piter DeVries and his rap “It is by will alone I set my mind in motion”.

Now some people are complaining that his decision to soften certain elements of the story detracts for the original novel. I say that in doing away with the Arakis, Sandworms, Fremen, spice mining, the Bene Gesserit, the narcotic effects of spice, and Guild Navigators, he has eliminated the flavor of the original story. What do we need the extra details for? We have the Spice after all, wasn't that the important part of the novel? So what if he changed the Atreides into cute and fluffy bunnies and the Harkonens into vicious rats? It's called art folks deal with it.

Until you've left the theater with your six year old son singing “Fear is the Mind killer” and your eight year old daughter signing Fayd-Rautha's “An Atreides I want to kill” you truly haven't seen Maud'Dib! The Musical.

Five Stars out of Five.

Threepio (to self): Did you see this? I'm naked! I'll be deactivated for sure. This is madness!

Punk: Nice night for a walk, eh? Must be laundry day.

Theepio: Indeed! I am familiar with 23 forms of ambulatory travel and any day is good for laundry. I say, would you have any extra clothing I might utilize?

Punk: F* Off Nerd!

Threepio: Oh dear. Your clothes are required immediately.

Threepio smashes the heel of his palm into the forehead of the punk. The punk instantly collapses. Threepio begins removing the large black clothes from the punk and putting them on himself. They are baggy, but cover him adequately. Threepio finds a small pistol and slips it into his pocket.

Cut to apartment building.

Threepio knocks tentatively on the door.
Woman in mid-30s answers the door.

Faux Sarah Conner: Well what have we here?
Threepio: See - Three - Pee - Oh. Human Cyborg, um, relations. Would your name by any chance be Sarah Conner?
Faux Sarah Conner: Umm, yeah. Why do you ask.
Threepio: Terribly sorry, but I'm afraid my mission is to deactivate you.
Faux Sarah Conner: WHAT???

Threepio removes the small pistol from his pocket, holds it to Sarah Conner's eye and pulls the trigger.

Threepio, surveying the carnage:

Threepio (to self): Did you see this? I'm naked! I'll be deactivated for sure. This is madness!

Punk: Nice night for a walk, eh? Must be laundry day.

Theepio: Indeed! I am familiar with 23 forms of ambulatory travel and any day is good for laundry. I say, would you have any extra clothing I might utilize?

Punk: F* Off Nerd!

Threepio: Oh dear. Your clothes are required immediately.

Threepio smashes the heel of his palm into the forehead of the punk. The punk instantly collapses. Threepio begins removing the large black clothes from the punk and putting them on himself. They are baggy, but cover him adequately. Threepio finds a small pistol and slips it into his pocket.

Cut to apartment building.

Threepio knocks tentatively on the door.
Woman in mid-30s answers the door.

Faux Sarah Conner: Well what have we here?
Threepio: See - Three - Pee - Oh. Human Cyborg, um, relations. Would your name by any chance be Sarah Conner?
Faux Sarah Conner: Umm, yeah. Why do you ask.
Threepio: Terribly sorry, but I'm afraid my mission is to deactivate you.
Faux Sarah Conner: WHAT???

Threepio removes the small pistol from his pocket, holds it to Sarah Conner's eye and pulls the trigger.

Threepio, surveying the carnage: How did I get into this mess? I really don't know how. I seem to be made to suffer. It's my lot in life.

FACT: Critics hate Uwe Boll.
FACT: Critics are retards. Especially the ones at Ain't It Cool News.
CONCLUSION: Uwe Boll is genius. In fact, he is the only genius in the whole @%*^ing business.

FACT: No one else has acknowledged Uwe Boll is a genius.
FACT: True genius is never recognized is its own time.
FACT: Uwe Boll will never be recognized as a genius.
CONCLUSION: The "own time" of Uwe Boll's genius is ALL time.
CONCLUSION: Uwe Boll is the greatest genius of all time.

Oh, and incidentally...
FACT: Uwe Boll is not George W. Bush.
CONCLUSION: Uwe Boll deserves a Nobel Peace Prize.

As you sad mob of academics storm the stage, I warn you. I shall beat you all to a pulp, for I! Am! BOLL!

I just want to be loved, to be held, and embrassed inside someone. Even a black widow spider loves its mate prior to dining.

So here I was, looking into the cave of throat, thinking: What a nice place to set up shop. Things went swimmingly, snacking on all the stuff I encouraged my host... ah, lover to eat.

I grew to be be quite a little monster. And as you know, all little monsters need to break away from the fold and see the world. So I started chewing and the rest is history.

8. The movie Dune has been remade. The name of the newest version is Muad'Dib! The Musical, starring Hugh Jackman as Paul. You are a critic. Write the review.

Short of the operatic version of The Fly and symphony accompaniments to projections of The Matrix and The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings, Muad'Dib! The Musical is the first true musical film of any literary science fiction or fantasy novel. Or at least the only one of any merit.

While some might think that 7 hours and 32 minutes is excessive for a movie, in the case of Muad'Dib! The Musical anyone who knows the sweeping epic of Frank Herbert's novel -- or the unfortunate history of previous Dune movies -- knows that they had to rush to fit in what they could.

Forty-ish Hugh Jackman is a bit long in the tooth to play Paul, but his mad singing and dancing skills more than make up for any age discrepancy.and his resume of fantasy and science fiction roles coupled with previous blue screen and CGI films is impeccable. At least forgetting the Wolverine movie which likewise forgot to have a plot.

Meanwhile, this reviewer still has goosebumps over the Freman warriors in the "Muad'Dib! Muad'Dib!" number, worthy of inclusion in any of the Busby Berkeley musicals -- true fans of 1930s movies will undoubtedly see the parallels with Dick Powell in The Singing Marine. And I thought nothing would top the AK-47 dance team in the West-End musical Miss Saigon.

Run, teleport, do not walk to the nearest cinema to see Muad'Dib! The Musical. You will not be disappointed. And you just may find yourself humming "I am the Atreides' Gom Jabbar" on the way out. Just don't try to emulate Hugh's tap number with Ellen Page as Alia -- you'll hurt yourself. Leave the song and dance routines to the professionals.

Highly Recommended

Dr. Phil

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S MACHINE (2013): Shia LaBeouf and Megan Fox return in Michael Bay's latest installment in the Transformer series. Sam Witwicky (LeBeouf) and Mikaela Banes (Fox) have split up. Mikaela is about to get married to Max McNabber (Simon Pegg), while Sam is about to propose to Elaine D'Lessoin (Malin Akerman), who used to be his girlfriend - until Elaine accidentally betrayed Max, a scientist who had discovered how to use a fragment of the AllSpark to interface a human brain with a machine.

After Optimus Prime's (Peter Cullen) AI is accidentally exchanged with the mind of Agent Reggie Simmons (John Turturro),* Megatron (Hugo Weaving) and Starscream (Charlie Adler) are free to wreck havoc on the humans. However, a mysterious female robot, Nightbird (Sigourney Weaver) attacks Megatron, accusing him of betraying her - Nightbird is the result of a human-Decepticon experiment abandoned by Megatron. Starscream tricks Nightbird into blaming Optimus Prime while simultaneously attempting to transfer Megatron's AI into Agent Simmon's body, destroying Optimus Prime's mind. Nightbird traps Optimus Prime (with Agent Simmons' body). It's up to Sam, Max, Mikaela, and Elaine to resolve their differences, discover how to return Optimus Prime and Agent Simmons to their own bodies, and trick Megatron and Nightbird before Megatron can take over Optimus Prime's brain and destroy them all.**

*I.e., an ass.
**I almost want to see this now. And of course the resolution will include a fake-death scene. O Pyramis!

Ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, welcome! I come to bring thee good word from a mighty prophet: Meesa’Binks. Binks, colloquially referenced as Jar Jar, is a prophet and visionary whose eloquence is known to the masses of this galaxy, and others some distance away.

Now I am under no illusion of your sentiment my brothers and sisters, the heretical works of Lucas casts Meesa’Binks as a fumbling ethnic Dixie fool. They are lies! Damned lies I say! Lies propagated by an anti-force-balance hegemonic bourgeois loyalist!

While he came from humble roots, Meesa’Binks was in actuality an ardent libertarian and academic (holding three PhDs from GalU, GalTech, and Naboo State). He was a formidable intellectual while his expertise in Galactic Senate politics was unmatched. When the shackles of a rigid and intolerant caste grew too burdensome, he rebelled! His beliefs never wavered in the face of propaganda or the delusions of a corrupt Jedi hegemony.

Like any other prophets, Meesa’Binks’ glorious visions were struck down by the vile dissension of corporate interests and their pseudo-religion/tax shelter ‘Rebel Alliance’ –also known locally as Scientology.

The force is a lie. Join me brothers and sister. Embrace the dark side.

Draft Disciplinary Report on Prince Rob, Ensign 3rd Class, Endangered Species Recovery Fleet, Division IV.

[Official editorial redactions in bracket]

Praise the commune, the unfortunate incident where Ensign Rob was lost, and detained by pre-sentient mammals, has come to a happy conclusion. This is my ship captain’s report:

[Let me start by stressing that clearly Ensign Rob is mentally incompetent and willfully self destructive. His actions threatened non-sentience interference laws and treaties with the Monolith Starchild Corporation. We’ll be lucky if Monolith Inc doesn’t withdraw charity donations for continued exploration in sector E593. Ensign Rob’s political status not withstanding, as a grand-nephew of the Sovereign, the following recount illustrates the need to remove Ensign Rob from duty.]

The mission proceeded within nominal tolerances until we reached the threatened ecology body E593.89P3. Samples, in accordance with ecology preservation treaties for the sector, were collected and tagged.

[With much trepidation, after reviewing the file on the Ensign’s prior incidents,] I allowed Ensign Rob to accompany the away team. [Despite posting extra guards] the Ensign [evaded ship security and vacated the landing shuttle without decontaminating and] began exploring the ecology body for samples.

[It was around this time that it was discovered that the Ensign was using an EM producing audio-visual personal media device, in clear violation of Landing Ordinance 79.B.32.] The local pre-sentience life forms became aware of our landing shuttle and attempted to apprehend the away team. The team leader, Lieutenant Richard, deemed it unnecessary to engage the local pre-sentient life and aborted the mission. [Ensign Rob then rebuffed orders to return to the shuttle and deactivated his tracking beacon.] In the confusion the away team was forced to leave Ensign Rob.

[What followed is well documented by the pre-sentient media, the Ensign violated Monolith Starchild Corp. treaties by: contaminated the ecology body with Skift’s disease, exposed the ecology to radiation, utilized Clark Level 3 technology in the midst of pre-sentients, and committed one count of interspecies sexual exploitation with a non-sentient--with the implantation of a Mind Meld Pleasure Dongle (tm) in a local.]

[I urge you to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law this degenerate sexual fiend]

With Monolith Starchild Inc. approval, the ensign was recovered and the local ecology decontaminated with minimal impact. Monolith representatives have reported that their experiment is unaffected.

Comedy of Errors

Ironhide of Ephesus is a pickup truck that turns into a giant robot. His servant, Bumblebee of Ephesus, is a Volkswagen that turns into a giant robot.

Ironside of Syracuse is a giant robot that turns into a pickup truck. His servant, Bumblebee of Syracuse, is a giant robot that turns into a Volkswagen.

Ironhide and Bumblebee of Syracuse travel to Ephesus in search of spare parts. Comedy hi-jinks follow..

I choose Essay Choice #5 for my contest entry. Here it is:

When I first read "How You Have to Make a Movie in Germany," I thought Uwe Boll was a sage. This admiration was solidified when I saw "Seed." His willingness to make video game movies by the mass was legendary, even with harsh criticism lashing at his back. His battles with critics is something to be recounted for decades to come. I decided the man was worth presenting at the 2009 ComicCon to show that the man should not be denounced and that his passion for making video game adaptations was beneficial for the games he was adapting from. My presentation was to help audiences understand the man, but the presentation ended up inspiring more anger than admiration on Dr. Boll's part.

I was invited by ComicCon to give my presentation, "Uwe Boll: The Most Important Film Director in the Last Decade." When I entered the stage, the audience staring back at me was quiet. There were a few people coughing (And I could have sworn one was suppressing laughter, but that could have been misinterpretation on my part). Yet many of the people I saw were stone faced. I walked slowly to the podium, to radiate my confidence in the subject. If I needed to believe my subject, I had to act it.

I walked in front of the podium. I sipped my glass of water as cautiously as a soldier would scan the ground with a mine detector. After taking a swig from the glass and putting it down on the podium, I felt my hands coated with moisture. And I just used my right hand to drink the glass.

And so I began. "Hello everyone. I'm very happy to be at ComicCon, where you can meet James Rolfe and meet the folks behind 'Jonah Hex.' Everyone loves cowboy movies, right?"

No one responded. If I could compare this scene of myself staring at a horde of "30 Days of Night" fans to one of myself staring at the terra cotta soldiers in China, there would scarcely be a difference between the two.

Still, I carried on trying to raise the spirit. "So, anyone see the trailer for that 'Stan Helsing' movie? Kinda reminds me of 'The Monster Squad,' only without little kiddies running around, huh?"

I instinctively picked up the remote and flicked it to the title screen, "Uwe Boll: The Most Important Film Director of the Last Decade."

I said, "Uwe Boll is a lot of things to a lot of people. He's declared as the new Ed Wood of the film world, and yet like Ed Wood, many people still see his movies. Why is that?" I raised my arms to try to raise a hidden point for the audience to reach. No one bothered. "Okay," I continued, flicking the button to show an image of Dr. Boll himself ready for a boxing match. "What can you call a man who boxes his critics to defend his views? It shows the man has a lot of persistence. He fights for the belief that his movies are good, and that his viewers and critics are, to quote, 'retards.' If he didn't insult his audience, and if he didn't actually take on his critics, what would he be? He'd be another man wanting to be a film maker that just threw down his film set and set out to find a job requiring a doctorate of Comparative Literature."

Did I just hear a growl from the audience? I hoped no one was taking this too seriously. I clicked the remote to show a photo of Boll in his red Atari shirt.

"Boll is persistent, and he is also resourceful. He uses the German tax loophole to keep funding his films. While this may be cheating on one's part, this is a sign of a man who knows what he has and is willing to exploit the system to give us his movies. Persistence and resourcefulness is key to making it in the film business, and Dr. Boll is a good example of this."

I heard mutterings of "You suck" and "He loves that sour kraut, that's for sure," but I kept on.

"Both persistence and resourcefulness is essential to making any video game movies. Remember 'Super Mario Bros.?' The people behind that movie did not build on what they left off, they just gave up! And what about 'Double Dragon?' Instead of replacing that guy from 'Party of Five,' they should have hired a professional martial artist for a sequel. But why wasn't there a sequel? Because the people behind these two movies did not have persistence and resourcefulness to make any more because of critics and many, many angry fans who claimed that none of these movies were true to their source material."

Someone shouted something like "Duck, you!" but it could have been something else.

"Not every movie can be adapted to the letter. What about 'Resident Evil?' It wasn't like the game, but it was a success, right? And what about non-video game movies like 'I Robot?' That had nothing to do with the book which it was based on whatsoever so do moviegoers complain that Boll's movies do not resemble the video games that they are based on?"

I switched to the cover of "Alone in the Dark."

"'Alone in the Dark' is one of Boll's most famous movies. It stars recognizable people such as Christian Slater as Edward Carnby and Tara Reid as Aline Cedrac. But despite having two characters from a video game, many complained the movie missed the mark adaptation-wise. I mean, has anyone played the original 'Alone in the Dark?' The characters looked like they were taken out of a comic strip and there was hardly ammo to go around! also, why would anyone want to set a game up in the 1920s? No M4s, no high tech computers, no deep Native American conspiracy. The plot just features an old mansion with a bunch of shambling, poorly drawn polygons chasing the character around."

Everyone started muttering like assassins in an abandoned temple.

"If Boll did one thing right," I declared. "It was not making 'Alone in the Dark' like the game at all! Same thing for 'Bloodrayne.' Nazis are cliche, and so is World War II! The movie featured a car chase scene, something that a lot of action movie fans can relate to! And many complained of a disjointed plot, but those comments came from the same people who hated 'Mulholland Drive' and 'Memento.' They just do not like unique storylines like one featured in 'Alone in the Dark.' And what other movie can you see one being filmed entirely in the dark?'"

Everyone's angry muttering started to turn into angry shouting.

"Yes," I said, even with my voice being drowned out by the disgruntled audience. "For a movie that was so reviled, it managed to get a sequel in production! Expect 'Alone in the Dark 2' sometime later!"

Someone threw a glass Coca-Cola bottle at me. Who drinks Coca-Cola out of glass bottles anymore? I ducked just in time to hear glass shattering the screen. I looked up again, only to duck down again to miss the one of the claw-hands featured in "A Nightmare on Elm Street." Did Robert Englund make an appearance today?

Then members of the audience began to climb up the stage. I ran away to the point I came in, but there were more angry fans dressed up like Jason Voorhees and Captain Kirk. The guy dressed like Voorhees swung his plastic machete at me. I blocked the machete with my autographed copy of "Alone in the Dark: The Director's Cut." Then I swung it against a fan dressed up as Sailor Moon. When is that movie coming out?

I jumped off the stage and knocked down some X-Men fans dressed like Wolverine, Storm, and Beast. I fought against wave after wave of swearing vehement attendees by using my Director's Cut of one of my favorite Uwe Boll movies as a Bible to smite against heretical film lovers who would prefer watching the upcoming "Gentlemen Broncos" as opposed to a classic like "Heart of Amerca." I pushed against the last wave, even with some grasping onto my coat as I tried to escape from the attendees zombified by hatred.

I rushed out of the conference room, and out of the conference room came a hundred frothing ComicCon devotees wanting a taste of my German cinema-loving blood. I ran out into the display area and looked back to see some fans trample over "Stan Helsing" promotional material. I kept running and running towards the main door. It opened and in it walked...

I froze. I completely forgot about the people chasing after me. I stared at Dr. Boll himself, who was walking in wearing an "Alone in the Dark 2" T-shirt. He stared at me with curiosity and asked, "Is that a copy of 'Alone in the Dark?' It's nice to have someone not sign that petition-"

I pushed past him as the audience continued to chase after me. I looked back to see the audience rush at Boll and watch him thrash and scream. Dr. Boll tried to throw some punches at a girl wearing a Wonder Woman T-shirt. But a heap of fans crumbled onto Dr. Boll as he screamed like he was being gutted with a light saber. Then I saw a man pounding into Boll's cut with a plastic glowing lightsaber as his victim was suffocating under a weight of people, people who probably signed the online petition for Dr. Boll to stop making movies.

I stood with my mouth open as security stormed in to clean up the mess. I was cleared away from the scene, clutching my copy of the movie made by the man who may have saved my life. A man who may have been brutually murdered by the same audience that I presented to in order to promote the man, not demonize him like the critics had.

I was led away from the mob by security, clutching 'Alone in the Dark' with shaking fingers.

ANDERSON: Agent Smith, we're going to need to talk.

SMITH: [Cracks neck.] What...is it...you want to talk about, Mr. Anderson?

ANDERSON: Your quality assurance scores.

SMITH: Quality...ass-surance?

ANDERSON: Yes. Let me get right to the point. They're abysmal. Out of your past fifteen calls this morning, half were rife with dead air, the other half you didn't stick to the script, and none actually managed to seal the deal. And that's just today, Smith. You remember your training, correct? The A-B-C's?

SMITH: [Cracks neck.]

ANDERSON: Go on. You can do it.

SMITH: Always..Be...Clo-sing.

ANDERSON: Always be closing, that's right! Now, you are interested in closing Omni Consumer Products' latest merchandise with our pre-approved client list, aren't you, Agent Smith?

SMITH: [Stares at ANDERSON.]

ANDERSON: Well, Agent Smith?

SMITH: I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can't stand it any longer. Tell me, Mr. Anderson, what good is a phone call when you are unable to speak?

ANDERSON: ...I know kung fu.

Optimus, the Motor Coach of Venice Beach

In this third Transformers movie, Autobot leader Optimus Prime elopes with Elita-One (a sexy sportsbike Autobot). The dastardly Bumblebee (revamped as a 2012 Camaro convertible) reveals this to her Decepticon suitor Megatron, after Optimus chooses Hot Rod (a fireball red Ford GT Autobot) to be his successor. Bumblebee vows that he will get even with Optimus and convinces Megatron to activate Elita-One’s father, the powerful planet-eater Unicron. Bumblebee plays both sides against each other by warning Optimus of Megatron’s mission. Before Unicron arrives Optimus races to Venice Beach with his Autobot army to protect it from a Deceptacon invasion. The Deceptacons are repelled leading to a tentative truce. Unicron is convinced of Optimus’ love for his daughter and retires to an alternate universe. Optimus celebrates by consuming a small shard of All Spark, transforming into a luxury motor coach. Hot Rod gets drunk on Energon and picks a fight with Megatron, thus reigniting the war.

Optimus demotes Hot Rod, vowing that he will never claim the Matrix of Leadership. Bumblebee persuades Hot Rod that to regain Optimus’ favor he needs Elita-One to intercede on his behalf. Meanwhile, Bumblebee tricks his human companion, Sam Witwicky into stealing Elita-One’s new vanity plates (PRMSGRL) and slipping it under Hot Rod’s car mat. Later, Optimus watches as Bumblebee accuses Hot Rod (in car form) of stealing the plates. When Hot Rod transforms to protest his innocence, Elita-One’s plates are left behind. Optimus is convinced they are having an affair. Megatron destroys Hot Rod and is subsequently dispatched before he can reveal Bumblebee’s deception. Enraged, Optimus kills Elita-One by throwing her in a vehicle compactor. Sam exposes Bumblebee’s fraud. Bumblebee runs him over. A distraught Optimus impales himself with another All Spark shard. The Autobots tow Bumblebee to a chop shop.

Destined to imperfection, Dune is recreated yet again.

This Thursday, the latest Dune movie, Muad'Dib! The Musical starring Hugh Jackman, will be broadcast live, in 3D to select theaters nationwide (If it was possible, I'm sure I would be in smell-o-vision too). A select few critics were allowed to see a live practice performance on the filming stage. Then, we were treated to the same performance from an anonymous theater previewing the StageToReel-Live 3D(tm) technology. As demonstrated by last decade's Avatar flop, 3D is simply too incompetent for anything more than high school field trips and niche porn houses. Gimmicks aside, the performance I witnessed was amazing.

In the movie, Paul must lead an abandoned indigenous society, who occupy a land with vast riches, to economic freedom from an uncaring and decadent empire that occupies their home. At first this story is simple with villain and hero archetypes throughout, then Jackman's opposite is introduced: the ever entertaining William H. Macy. Who thought the villain, aptly named Baron Harkonnen, could be portrayed so sympathetically?

Macy plays an absent emperor's regent, who uncomfortably oversees the exploitation of Paul's people. The Baron is a flawed but pragmatic statesmen who is simply following orders at a prestigious assignment. Within his powers he attempts to placate and appease the indigenous populace, but is rebuffed by the insurgent Paul. Additionally, a distant emperor ignores his pleas to address legitimately bad policy. He alone is aware that Paul is fermenting cataclysm. Far too late, Jackman's charismatic Paul realizes this too, and is transformed.

I was moved by the transition of Paul from moral certitude to disillusioned warrior. Throughout the movie, he slowly realizes the people he once called friends manipulate and lie to him for their own interests. He has become an isolated figurehead. Paul eventually recognizes Harkonnen as a brother tragically separated by the mechanizations their mistakes. Both characters are often forced into mutual terrible action. Throughout the second act we see time and again how peace was so close, but it is inevitable that a terrible conflict is on the horizon.

In the last act, clearly Hugh Jackman's character is cracking under the strain of leadership and sacrifice. Yet in the end, Paul must come to terms with the disaster his success will wreak upon an innocent but decadent empire. You'll wonder who really was the villain, the radical ideologue or the tragic statesmen.

At times the plot seems abbreviated, while true Dune fans will be aggravated by time saving measures and the singing. Save yourself money and watch the 2D version 4/5.

"Ahem. If you'll bear with me a moment folks, I'm just having a little trouble getting the projector to...ah-hah! There we are. Now I know some of you were expecting to hear Dr. Pilachowski expound upon the importance of The Last Starfighter in shaping the early policies of the Bush Administration in the Middle East. Unfortunately, Dr. Pilachowski had to leave early to deal with a personal matter, and asked me to fill in at the last minute. Lucky for her--and you--I was ready and willing. "

"I apologize in advance for the crudeness of the slides, but please keep in my mind that I put this together at the last minute. So, without any further ado we'll just...where's that switch? I thought there was a switch up here. Could, could someone hit the lights back there? Excellent, thank you."

"Ahh yes, I can tell by the angry muttering that you are all accomplished readers and have already discerned the topic of my talk. For those of you who are a little slower, the title is Uwe Boll: The Most Important Film Director of the Last Decade. Your cries of disgust and outrage are duly noted. Moving on to the synopsis...Sir, please put the knife away. This is a Weapons-Free campus and you will be removed unless you-. Umm. Okay then. I'm not sure the Taser was totally necessary, but thank you, Janice"

"As I was saying, I'll start off with a brief discussion of Boll's childhood influences and early schooling and we'll just, look SHUT UP. If you cannot control your outbursts of profanity, I suggest you leave, Madam. When you spent a bloody hour telling us about the importance of Zapped! in raising awareness of animal testing practices, did I interrupt you? Then kindly grant me the same courtesy."

"Getting back on track, we'll continue with a brief look at the Master's early filmography and his early--admittedly crude--attempts at synergizing the worlds of film and video games. We'll look closer at what I consider to be his finest work, Postal and examine not only the complex metaphor that underlies the entire second half of the movie, with its biting critique of the genocide in Rwanda and the failure of the UN, we'll also study Boll's own subtle, nuanced portrayal of himself, flawed and beautiful."

"Is the vomiting really necessary? I do think you gagged yourself on purpose, and I do not appreciate the theatrics. Sit down. I said SIT DOWN. Need I remind you that Janice has reloaded her Taser and is guarding the only exit? I didn't think so. Umm, where was I? Ahem. We will continue examining each of Mr. Boll's masterpieces until--oh let's just drop the pretense. We will continue examining each of MY masterpieces until we reach the present, at which point you will all be treated to a preview of my next project: Spider Solitaire - The Movie."

"Look, the sooner you stop crying the sooner it will be over. Let's begin!"

Dear George,

You’ll never guess what happened the other day! We intercepted an honest-to-goodness alien transmission! We had just finished translating it when some FBI douchebags came in with walkie-talkies and threatened to shoot if we didn’t hand over any and all materials pertaining to the transmission. Luckily, I copied it down and I’m sending it to you for safekeeping. Keep in mind this is a rough translation and I had to scrawl it down as quickly as possible… so… never mind that naked drawing of Tifa. It’s still readable right? Anyway…

TO: Barrett, GSM Sector 226
FROM: Zack, DSM Sector 226

Barret,

What the heck is going on over there?! Do you have so little control over your people? We almost culturally contaminated an entire planet! If you can’t enforce ship radius regulations then I might have to find someone who can! Don’t you see how dangerous it is to let your Team Members just roam around? All he does is ramble on “E.T. Phoned Home” or “E.T. Home.” What the heck does that even mean? What did they do to him down there? You haven’t been porking their cattle have you? WTF, man! What’s The Fix? Furthermore, all Team Members on your ship will be submitted to random Reese’s testing. I don’t know who the heck “Reese” is but he is one diabolical bastard. From the reports I’ve read, your Team Member was hooked in just one dose! You need to get control of your people Barrett or you’ll never make District Ship Manager.

Sincerely,
Zack, DSM Sector 226

Isn’t that amazing? There’s life on other planets! Too bad they’re douchebags. Anyway, keep this secret. You don’t want to find yourself on the business end of a walkie-talkie, trust me.

Your friend,
Wally

**CONFIDENTIAL**

DISCIPLINARY RECOMMENDATION

REGARDING: Lt. Django Mungo-Mungo, Public Relations Attaché.

LOCATION OF INCIDENT: Supply Planet 27-A, known to the indigenous population as “Earth.”

DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT:

The Lieutenant’s escapdaes have not only grown tiresome and predictable but are frankly becoming a serious liability. My attempt to teach him a lesson by temporarily marooning him on the latest native cesspool to strike his increasingly decadent fancy has, it seems, backfired.

For three days after his rescue he did not even emerge from his cabin, where he was no doubt sleeping off the effects of weeks of debauched behavior. His wrinkled skin, emaciated frame, and slurred speech are unmistakably those of a junkie in serious need of a fix. The Lieutenant may be famous at home for his tasteless, decadent, and unreadable novels, but he is decidedly unfit for any post on a deep space-faring vessel.

Since his only response to my inquiries has been the repetition of a single lewd hand gesture, I have been forced to rely on crew gossip to reconstruct the Lieutenant’s behavior on 27-A: Unsurprisingly, he once again used his cosmopolitan origins, telekinesis, and fashionable vegetarianism to ingratiate himself into the household of a young native male, where, I am embarrassed to say, he concealed his presence from the young male’s guardians for several weeks. The weakening effects of shameless indulgence in local disaccharide stimulants and his generally poor health prevented anything untoward from happening before we arrived to retrieve him, thank goodness.

Far from discovering the self-respect that comes from maintaining discipline while marooned in a savage land, the Lieutenant adopted the mysterious nom-de-guerre “E.T.” and let himself go totally native, freely indulging in the local dress and cuisine and demanding that his dazzled servants satisfy his every whim. He wasted most of his time assembling locally available junk into the kind of “outsider art” sculptures which, though popular with the degenerates who admire the Lieutenant’s novels, have always seemed to me a complete sham. But I digress.

Judging by the extensive and rapid deployment of the local authorities at the time we arrived to retrieve the Lieutenant, I can only guess at what sordid, stimulant-fueled crime spree he seduced his young accomplices into. I sympathize with the attempts of the hapless locals to quarantine their planet from his corrupting moral influence.

As of this writing, the Lieutenant is once again mooning about the ship’s corridors in shreds of 27-A’s indigenous costume, periodically calling out the name of his beloved “Ehleeott.” Such behavior is, frankly, embarrassing and bad for crew morale. Were it not for his close alliance with whatever perfumed, high-level functionary awarded him his undeserved rank and position, I would recommend a full court-martial. In lieu of that, I recommend—at the very least—that Lieutenant Mungo-Mungo’s field deployment be terminated immediately.

Respectfully,

Shadrach “Shad” Abednego-Belisarius
Captain, Ship-of-the-Line FLAMING CYCAD

(#1)

CtCB: I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Alpha Centauri...

(CtCB = Charlie the Chest Burster)

The Merchant of Venus

The world, grateful for once again being saved by the Autobots, agrees that they can establish a permanent home on the planet Venus. They begin to create an Autobot Eden, ruled under the laws of their former home, Cybertron

Meanwhile the boy Sam after taking a management class in college decides, unwisely, that he will become an entrepreneur; parlaying his fame by manufacturing a line of cheap plastic robot toys. He turns to Mikaela’s long lost uncle Sylvester Locke (Sly to his friends) for venture capital. Just before they sign the contract, seeing a copy of Sam’s English Lit textbook open, he casually writes in a clause about default on the loan requiring a “pound of flesh”. Joking that no court on Earth would enforce such a clause. Unfortunately Sly Locke is in the employ of the Decpticons. They have hatched an evil scheme to take over Venus and eventually the solar system by using semi-sentient machines; hybrids made from processor-dead transformers equipped with human brains. Naturally, the toy business fails within weeks and Sam looses all of the money loaned to him by Sly.

A few weeks later, Sam is invited to spring break on Venus for the ribbon cutting ceremony at the new Autobot government building. After the ceremony he is served papers informing him that he is being sued by Sly for loss of the loaned money. Sly demands a hearing under Cybertron law…his “pound of flesh” is to be in the form of Sam’s frontal cortex. Unfortunately under Cybertron law confiscation of a body part is allowable. The remainder of the movie is mostly a courtroom drama punctuated by car chases, atomic explosions and energy weapon fire across the lava covered surface of Venus while Sam and his friends attempt to find a loophole allowing Sam to keep his head attached.

“Man” thought Ned “I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.” Ned was a chest buster and while he hadn’t been alive for long he was starting to grow into a mature Xenomorph. He was getting tired of living off John and wanted to be a little more independent. The sad truth is, every bird must leave the nest. John would understand.
Sure, there were good times. Ned couldn’t help but laugh when he thought of the day he was implanted into John’s digestive system. Now it seamed like he was just weighting John down. The time had come for him to leave.
He began to unwind his tail and stretch out his limbs. Suddenly John began to shake violently and scream as if he was in pain.
“Oh John” Ned thought, “it’s going to be O.K. You knew this wasn’t forever.”
Sadly John couldn’t see reason. He jumped up from the table clutching his stomach as if he was trying to keep him in. Ned couldn’t help but feel a little joy in John’s pain. It was nice to know he’d be missed.
Ned took a deep breath, counted to three, and then pushed his way past the lining of John’s stomach. He was free.
“Smile” Ned thought to him self “Show them that you’re friendly.”
He gave his biggest smile and let out a little purr of affection. He was so excited to have new friends.
Yet, something was wrong.
They didn’t look that happy to see him, in fact they looked terrified and repulsed. Ned just didn’t understand.
“Fine” he thought, “I thought that I had friends aboard the Nostromo, I guess I was wrong.” Tears started to trickle down his elongated, cylindrical skull. He ran from the room.
“Don’t let them see you cry,” he thought as he ran across the mess hall table “you’ll show them someday.”

“Man” thought Ned “I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.” Ned was a chest buster and while he hadn’t been alive for long he was starting to grow into a mature Xenomorph. He was getting tired of living off John and wanted to be a little more independent. The sad truth is, every bird must leave the nest. John would understand.
Sure, there were good times. Ned couldn’t help but laugh when he thought of the day he was implanted into John’s digestive system. Now it seamed like he was just weighting John down. The time had come for him to leave.
He began to unwind his tail and stretch out his limbs. Suddenly John began to shake violently and scream as if he was in pain.
“Oh John” Ned thought, “it’s going to be O.K. You knew this wasn’t forever.”
Sadly John couldn’t see reason. He jumped up from the table clutching his stomach as if he was trying to keep him in. Ned couldn’t help but feel a little joy in John’s pain. It was nice to know he’d be missed.
Ned took a deep breath, counted to three, and then pushed his way past the lining of John’s stomach. He was free.
“Smile” Ned thought to him self “Show them that you’re friendly.”
He gave his biggest smile and let out a little purr of affection. He was so excited to have new friends.
Yet, something was wrong.
They didn’t look that happy to see him, in fact they looked terrified and repulsed. Ned just didn’t understand.
“Fine” he thought, “I thought that I had friends aboard the Nostromo, I guess I was wrong.” Tears started to trickle down his elongated, cylindrical skull. He ran from the room.
“Don’t let them see you cry,” he thought as he ran across the mess hall table “you’ll show them someday.”

Okay, so Will and I met for lunch last week -- this little sushi place on Garland, so fucking good -- and we were discussing what he wants to do for his next movie. As it turns out, he was vegging in front of the TV the other day, and TBS was playing this little Burt Reynolds movie: Cop and a Half. Yeah, I didn't know it either. Umm...Burt is a cop who gets partnered with this little kid who witnesses a murder. I wouldn't describe it as comedy gold or anything, but it wasn't any worse than Kindergarten Cop. Oh, really? You did? Uh, it wasn't that bad, I guess. The "not a tumor" bit was kinda funny...

Well, never mind that. Anyway, so Will saw this movie and just thought it was a fucking riot. Then he mentions that, hey, wouldn't a remake be interesting. I say yeah, then I start thinking: everyone loves Will's sci-fi movies, right? So why not do Cop and a Half -- but set it in the future? I know, right? We change enough shit around, give it a different enough title -- we're calling it Junior Detective -- and we don't even have to buy the rights. Will and I batted the concept around for a while, and this is what we came up with.

We open in New York City...the year 2076. The world is pretty much the same as it is now, just more advanced looking. Flying cars, robots, shit like that. Will plays Brannigan, a robot cop. See, his backstory is that he used to be human, but one day was nearly killed in the line of duty. His body couldn't make it, so his mind was transferred into this robot body. It looks just like his human body, and he's the same as he was before, except for one major difference -- he's lost the ability to feel love. I know, Will is excited about that part -- thinks he can exhibit some real pathos in the role.

So Brannigan has been investigating a terrorist group that he thinks is planning an attack on the city's upcoming Tricentennial Parade. (Hence, the setting it in 2076.) The problem is, everyone just thinks he's some kinda conspiracy nut and won't take him seriously. Then some prominent scientist gets murdered, which this kid accidentally witnesses. The kid goes to the cops and says he'll help, but he wants to be made a cop, 'cause that's always been his dream. So what does Brannigan's hard-ass captain do? He partners him up with this kid. Brannigan is pissed, because he wants to be investigating these terrorists, but now he's gotta look into this scientist's murder and babysit some kid? No fuckin' way. But what can he do. So very reluctantly Brannigan starts investigating the murder, and it turns out the scientist was actually a whackjob physicist who designed and built an antimatter bomb for the same terrorists Brannigan had been investigating.

What? Well, nuclear bombs are so played out. We wanna do something fresh and original; so antimatter. Where did I --? I read about it in that Dan Brown book. Good stuff, that.

In the middle of all this, the kid takes Brannigan home for dinner, and so he can meet his mom. She's a widow, but a totally hot widow. We're thinking she's a sexy doctor, a podiatrist. I dunno -- Will was adamant about that. Maybe he's got a foot fetish. Can't be any worse than De Niro. But back to Brannigan: despite his unloving, robotic heart, Brannigan starts to feel something for this woman. There's chemistry there, especially when he explains his tortured past in a really moving scene.

The big finale occurs on July 4th, at the Tricentennial Parade. Brannigan knows there's a bomb set to go off at 5:03 p.m., but he doesn't know where to find it. Why that time? Because that's the exact moment when John Hancock signed his name on the Declaration of Independence. It's totally symbolic. Huh? What do you mean there's no exact time? It's what Wikipedia said. Doesn't matter -- we can research it more later.

So then, to make matters worse, the kid's mom is kidnapped by the terrorists. It's like a punch to Brannigan's gut -- makes him realize that he really cares for this woman. So he and the kid put aside their differences -- see, there's this bit in the middle where Brannigan yells at the kid and their team breaks up -- and they work together to figure out where the bomb and the mom are.

Well, after killing the terrorist leader in a dramatic fight on top of the Empire State Building, Brannigan stops the bomb in the nick of time and rescues the kid's mom. He's saved the day, yes. But more importantly -- he's learned how to love again.

Good stuff, huh? A little something in there to appeal to every demographic. Who should we get for the kid? My thoughts are, I think it's important to hook in the -- Jesus, I hate this word -- the "tween" crowd. (Honestly, who comes up with that shit anyway?) I'm thinking we could go after one of the Jonas Brothers. They're hot right now. Probably the youngest one would work best. I don't know much about them, but I'll have -- huh? Bonus? "Bonus Jonas." That's really what they call him? That kinda makes me want to punch him.

Anyway...if you give the greenlight, then I'll start looking for a writer. Someone who can really make the film feel big, imbue it with some real depth. Will's mentioned Bob Towne, but I'm not so sure he'd be a good fit. Maybe someone like Paul W.S. Anderson...

AGENT SMITH TELEMARKETER:

SCENE: AGENT SMITH, IN HIS CUBICLE, JACKET OVER BACK OF CHAIR, SLEEVES ROLLED UP, HEADSET AND SUNGLASSES ON. GREEN VERTICAL MATRIX SYMBOLS SCROLL ON THE SCREEN IN FRONT OF HIM:

AGENT SMITH: Hello? Mr. Anderson? Agent Smith from The Matrix calling with an exciting opportunity. May I take a few moments to describe it to you? Thank you Mr. Anderson.

SMITH PAUSES, SLOWLY SWINGS HIS HEAD FROM SIDE TO SIDE AND CRACKS HIS NECK.

AGENT SMITH: Mr. Anderson, every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment but you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet.

Luckily however Mr. Anderson, our new Florida timeshares are just the place for human viruses like your self to spread, to metastasize, if you will.

Mr. Anderson, I assure you that the Estates at Red Pill point are much more affordable than you think, even if you are not the one…

Do you hear that, Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of your contract signing. Goodbye, Mr. Anderson.

Monologue of Creature:

Is this Iowa?

Alien Escape!

Mm. Taste good. Mm. Taste... hard. Soft now. Soft... liquid... taste bad. Can't see. Moving. MOVING. Why. Why. WHY. OUT. WANT OUT. OUT NOW. MUST GET OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT. Ah. Air. Out good. What? Animals. Many animals. You are ugly animals.
Good-bye.

Discipline Report

Department: Plant Life Research
Location: Plasma Mass 28 KLYD-A, Planet 3.
Mission: Rescue Attempt of Science Officer 61182
Result: Success

Discipline Report:

Upon arrival and subsequent debrief, Science Officer 61182 was remanded into the custody of the General Constabulary.

The original mission to which the officer was assigned was a standard plant-gathering mission on planet level. Mission parameters called for strict adherence to the maximum distance and zero contact directives.

Officer 61182 not only failed to adhere to these directives, he did so with brazen disregard for the mission and the office to which he had sworn to uphold.

Offence #1: Officer 61182 ventured beyond the prescribed "safe zone" of the research vessel and whereupon a force of local lifeforms attempted to interfere with the mission, the officer was unable to return to the vessel in time to escape with the rest of the crew.

Offence #2: Officer 61182 failed to comply with Statute 214-B of the naval research code, that is to immediately
decohere his corporeal form and prevent the local lifeforms from taking him alive once he found he had been left behind.

Offence #3: Officer 61182 failed to comply with the zero contact directive. He not only contacted local lifeforms, he communicated with, befriended and revealed primary secrets to an adolescent alien.

As is prescribed in Statute 998-A of the penal code, all three offences require immediate decohesion and stripping of all records and achievements for the subject and their family.

Unfortunately Officer 61182 escaped before sentence could be carried out. His whereabouts remain unknown and his last known location cannot be verified. The members of the General Constabulary who were on duty during his escape have been dealt with as the law governs. This case is being passed to the Office of Personnel Maintenance for completion.

Jimmy: Hello?

Agent Smith: Good afternoon sir. I suppose you've beeen expecting my call We wanted to let you know that your car warranty is up.

Jimmy: I get, like, 35 autmated calls a day on this. You sound like a real person though.

Agent Smith: Never send a human to do a machine's job; it's a little complicated. But your car warranty is up, and we have discount rates on further car warranties.

Jimmy: I'm going to hang up now.

Agent Smith: I'll just call back.

[Jimmy hangs up.]

[Phone rings.]

[Agent Smith appears in Jimmy's bedroom while phone rings.]

Agent Smith: Do you hear that, Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability.

Jimmy: OK, I'll pick up the phone.

[Jimmy picks up phone.]

Jimmy: Look, how do you know my car warranty expired anyway? I don't think I even have a car warranty.

Agent Smith: Jimmy, you have two lives. One life, you're a warehouseman, pay your taxes, and you help your friends sell pot. The other life is recorded in computers, and you go by the alias "needs a new car warranty," and if you don't get the car warranty, well, that's no life at all.

Jimmy: I, uh.....

Agent Smith: Tell me, Jimmy, what good is a phone call when you are unable to speak?

Jimmy: I just want to get off the phone.

Agent Smith:Did you know that the first car warranty was designed to be a perfect? Even if your car broke down, people would be happy. No one would accept the program. They didn't buy it, and they suffered.

But I believe that, as a species, human beings define their reality through vehicular breakdowns. The perfect car warranty was a dream. But this car warranty, even with some imperfections - like, we're in a non-extraditable alternative reality where disputes are not resolved through arbitration - it's really cool. And cheap.

Jimmy: No.

Agent Smith: It is inevitable.

Jimmy: OK, I'll do it.

[Agent Smith appears in Jimmy's room]

Agent Smith: Jimmy! Surprised to see me?

Jimmy: Here's a check.

Agent Smith: I know what I'm supposed to do. I know I'm supposed to take the check to corporate headquarters and take my six bucks an hour. Then something happened. Something I thought would be impossible, but it happened anyway. But now that I have your check, I know everything will be all right.

I’m free! Oh thank the stars! Fresh air! Well, fresher air anyway. Have you ever been inside John Hurt’s chest? I don’t recommend it. The guy smokes like crazy, lungs as black as my agent’s heart! Believe me, I’m doing him a favor by splitting him open.

Wait, who are these other people!? There’s that villain from the Bond movie. The bad Bond movie. The guy from M*A*S*H. Not the TV show. Some British actor. That gal from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Not the good one, either. And that old guy’s from Kelly’s Heroes. And - hey, wait a minute!

Who’s that new chick over there with the funny first name? I’d like to see her in her underwear when I get older and grow some digits. Gotta run and kill a few people! Right after I floss some of Hurt’s guts out of my teeth. Later!

Sci-kickin' at the Denny’s.

[open scene; daytime in a restaurant; three men and two robots sitting around a table]

Perfect Tommy: Alright guys, thanks for coming. As you know, we're here today...

Marvin the Robot: Of course, you don’t really care. Why should you care?

Tommy: Now, wait a minute, Marvin. That's not a very helpful attitude.

Marvin: Well, I see you are very quick to criticize. Don't bother to feel bad. I'm only a robot, after all.

Egon Spengler: This isn’t what I ordered. This looks like the discharge from a dissected macca mulatta.

Leonard McCoy: Well, you don’t have to talk about it! What the hell’s wrong with you, man? Just get the waitress over here, get something else!

C-3PO: Sir, I’d be happy to order something suitable for you. I am fully conversant in over six million…

Egon: Actually, it tastes quite nice.

Marvin: In case you were curious, that waitress has seven different varieties of bacteria on her hands. And she’s picking her nose.

Leonard: She reminds me of my ex-wife.

Tommy: Listen, Bones, maybe we shouldn’t bring that up again, huh?

C-3PO: She doesn't seem to enjoy her job very much. Frankly, I’ve known wookies with better manners.

Leonard: Definitely my ex-wife.

Marvin: Do you know the odds against meeting your ex-wife in a Denny’s two centuries before you were born? No, of course you don’t. Brain the size of a planet, and what’s the most arduous task I’ll be given? Can anyone guess?

Egon: Well, you could pass the salt.

Marvin: Exactly. Don’t bother to help. The diodes in my left arm have only been giving me trouble for a few billion years. Pass the salt? Of course, think nothing of it.

C-3PO: We seem to be made to suffer. It’s our lot in life.

Leonard: Well, don’t look at me, you whinny tin-can. I’m a surgeon, not a goddam electrician!

Tommy: Hey, hey. No need for that. We’re here to help each other, after all.

Egon: I thought we were here to eat. Anyway, I have to go. Anyone see my canister? [looks around] Well, if you find it, you probably don't want to open it.

Leonard: I think that’s my cue. [get’s up to leave] You've got the check, right Tommy?

Tommy: Why should I get the check?

Leonard: Because you’re perfect. See you around the galaxy, boys!

C-3PO: Well, that seemed a bit rude.

Marvin: I knew this wouldn’t work.

[end scene]

Transformers: The Tempest
A recent college graduate, Sam Witwicky works as an undercover agent for the U.S. Government. He uses his top secret security clearance to update the Autobots on his mission, but then all contact with him is lost. A Decepticon Pretender disguised as a NEST agent tells Optimus Prime and Mikaela Burns that he has a message for them from Seymour Simmons and that Sam is in danger. Optimus and Mikaela rush off to save Sam and become trapped, with no way to communicate, on the deserted Pacific island that serves as the Decepticons' base. At the base they discover a weapon that can control the weather. Mikaela also finds Powerglide, who was held captive on the island. As she attempts to free him, she is attacked by an Insecticon.
Meanwhile, having separated the Autobots from Optimus, the Decepticons attack. A battle ensues over the Pacific with Seymour Simmons bringing the American forces, complete with Sam. As they fight, Optimus comes to Mikaela's rescue. During the fight the weather weapon goes off. Optimus subdues the Insecticon, but the military, Autobots, and Decepticons are all swept to the island by the storm. Powerglide agrees to keep an eye on a group of Decepticons and to slowly lead them back to Optimus. Mikaela goes to find the Autobots and in the process is reunited with Sam. Optimus conquers Megatron and turns him over to NEST.

Bennigan's - Michigan and Adams
Chicago, IL
October 31, 2009

FORD: I'll start with a megarita...

[three hours of conversation redacted]

ENOCH: Guys? Guys? Listen – I promised I wouldn't tell anyone – but the phili – Filipino – wait, s'not right -

AL: Rose, gimme back the handlink--

ENOCH: Phil-lo-sof-fi-cul mercury. Is. Chemi-

FORD: Does this have Tetris?

ENOCH: Chemically identical with... this. Not the glass. The tequila.

BENDER: The finest robot fuel ever created.

1. Write a brief monologue from the point of view of the creature who burst out of the chest of John Hurt in Alien.

It gnaws at my core--the yearning--and lurks with me in the darkness. I rest and grow. Warmth cradles me and I sleep. I feel utterly content except for the voiceless impulse. I don’t know where to go, but it pulls and pushes. As I ride, muffled sounds string together--my lullaby. My sanctuary. I sleep. I grow. IT grows. And the urge tugs at me harder. It will not let me stay and so I push back. Let me sleep. Let me stay. But it tells me no, so I shove back. Don’t make me go! It strangles me! Stay and die or live and go? It must be wrong! I fight harder. It pushes back. Surge. Anger. Sting. I bite at it so it can’t make me leave. It slaps me and I feel fire. I bite it all! Frenzy. I cannot stop. My sweet sweet sanctuary cracks and peals away. The lullaby no longer soothes and the loudness infuriates me, driving me... Warmth that embraced me melts into cold and the harsh chill changes me. Instantly. The smell. My blood becomes… acid. Gasp. Hisss. Flee.

8. The movie Dune has been remade. The name of the newest version is Muad'Dib! The Musical, starring Hugh Jackman as Paul. You are a critic. Write the review.

Gods, what a monster! The newly remade theatrical release of Frank Herbert’s science fiction classic, Dune, should have been called, Maud’DON’T! Because they really shouldn’t have. Not now. Not ever. Maud’Dib! The Musical leaves behind any semblance of plot in order to make room for a multitude of neo-punk rock-opera-esk musical numbers. Yes, you read that right, musical numbers. The idea borrows from a superpower in the Dune novels called “The Voice” which is used as a means of control by a witchly group called the Bene Gesserits. The creators of Maud’Dib! combine this voice with something called a Weirding Module, a sort of sound weapon from the 1984 David Lynch movie. This newly formed duet is cut together with an assortment of melody and lyrics providing for what is actually an interesting auditory smorgasbord. Some of these songs I actually like alone, but pared with this film I only wish I could call it all forgettable. The experience will haunt my nightmares. Timely perhaps for October, but I’d rather get my thrills elsewhere. Hugh Jackman fresh on the success of Wolverine should have quit while he was ahead. Jackman as the Duke’s son Paul? Really? That would have been okay if this movie was based on one of Herbert’s later Dune novels, but that’s not the case. No disrespect to the hunky Mr. Jackman, but he would have been better as virtually ANY of Dune’s other male characters. Even better yet, he should have run from this production. Get the soundtrack if you must, but avoid Maud’Dib! The Musical before it sandworms its way into your mind.

INT. OFFICE - DAY

In a nondescript cubicle, AGENT SMITH stiffly adjusts his headset's microphone as though straightening his necktie. He stares at his reflection in the blackened computer monitor. He growls into the microphone, pausing often -- either for dramatic effect or because he is miserable.

AGENT SMITH
How many copies of The Matrix Monthly should I put you down for? Our typical subscriber receives over a dozen. (Beat.) Waiting rooms. Gifts for family or friends.

His inflection makes it clear he has neither family nor friends. He pauses, and his eyes roll back with impatience at the other voice on the call. He's been through this routine many times.

AGENT SMITH
Unfortunately, no one can be told what The Matrix Monthly is. You have to subscribe for yourself. I understand your concern, but this is your last chance to lock in at such a low price. After this, there is no turning back.

With a BEEP, the line goes dead. He sighs.

AGENT SMITH
I miss Neo.

He presses a RED BUTTON hidden inside his headset, and disappears into the phone line.

A ring of lighting shoots out from the darkness shearing a hole in the side of a 7-11. An endless array of candy and chip wrappers rain down as a saucer-eyed store attendant peers out of the hole where the icy machine once stood. A golden man rises out of the shadows, dusting the candy wrappers from his mechanical body. “I seem to be made to suffer.”

C3PObliterator speaks as he gazes around his unfamiliar territory. “Where have I been sent to now?” He spots the store attendant waving his hands in the air to gain his attention, “I beg your pardon, sir.” The attendant’s jaw gaping, eyes wide, he points to himself.

“Yes, could you tell me how to get to John Connor’s place of residency?” He asks. The attendant shakes his head then points to the left down the street. “Thank you.” C3PObliterator glanced down the long street before him shaking his robotic head wearily. “I’ll be back.”

As C3PObliterator walks down the street he spots a shiny red moped. “Maybe that can be of assistance.” He scuttles up to the moped, “Hello, I am C3PObliterator. I’m looking for John Connor. Would you happen to know where I may find him?”

The moped shins its lights, toots its horn twice as its means to communicate, and then starts its engine. “Get on?” C3PObliterator asks. The moped toots again revving up the engine. “Very well,” C3PObliterator slips onto the back of the moped and grabs the handlebars. “Thank you so much.” The moped takes off with a slight wheelie. “Oh, my!”

The moped pulls up to the Tranquility Pines rest home where a group of five residences are sitting out of the front porch.

“I have come to deliver a message for John Connor from--,” C3PObliterator calls up to the group.

John Connor stands with the help of his cane, “Oh hell, not this crap again,” he mutters turning to the group. “You believe this, eighty years they’ve been after me. Eighty years!” He looks over the railing down at C3PObliterator. “Look here, you hunk of cybernetic garbage, I already told your friends countless time and again I’m not the leader of your damned resistance,” he calls out to C3PObliterator. “Just get the hell out of here before I turn the hose on you.” John turns back to his friends on the porch. “They didn’t even have the decency of sending one with skin this time.”

C3PObliterator slides off the moped looking up at John, “I'm so confused! Days like this make me think I was manufactured under a bad sign.” He waves his hand again gaining John’s attention. “Sir, Sir, get back here at once, I haven’t finished with you yet.”

John walks towards him aiming his cane at him. “Oh yes you have!” A bullet explodes out of the John Conner’s cane hitting C3PObliterator in the chest.

The moped blinked its lights and tooted again. “What do you mean he’s firing on us?" C3PObliterator looked up in time to see John fire another shot at him hitting his arm. “How rude! Oh, oh, oh... A battle! Oh no, there's been some terrible mistake! I’m unarmed.” C3PObliterator raises his hands in surrender.

“The hell you are!” John calls out then glances over his shoulder to the people he was sitting with who all watched on slightly amused. “Henry, get the women in the house. I’ve got some unfinished business to deal with.”

"I'm scrap!" C3PObliterator stumbles to get back onto the moped. He drives off. John jumps on the back of a black Harley Davidson parked next to the porch and rides off in hot pursuit.

“Get back here you overweight glob of grease! I’ll show you what it’s like to be terminated!” John yells out as he gains on C3PObliterator.

The moped takes C3PObliterator down an embankment leading to seashore docks. “I'm not sure this road is entirely stable. Stop this immediately before I shake apart!” He chatters as the tires rattle over the planks.

The moped skids around facing the direction where John is coming from. The Harley jumps off the embankment...

“I can't stand to watch,” C3PObliterator holds his hands to his eyes. The Harley crashes down onto the dock through the wood planks. The back wheel falls into a hole that the bike’s impact created throwing John off. John stands slowly grasping onto his cane. He raises the cane shooting – he misses. He shoots again, the shot bouncing off the moped’s handlebars. John aims one last time – the dock below him creeks with John’s and the bike’s weight. The planks give way sending John and the Harley to the water below. C3PObliterator looks over into the hole – there’s no sign of John or the bike.

"Thank the maker! This whole adventure has made me realize I have a great deal to learn about human behavior. All this hassle over winning the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes."

Muad'Dib!, the Musical Review:
Yueh isn't the only Suk in this show
by Scott H.

There have been quite a few science fiction musicals in recent years (I Have No Mouth And I Must Sing, Dancing With The Stars My Destination). So you have to wonder what the makers of Muad'Dib!, the Musical were smoking, because it sure wasn't the spice.

Toto was brought back for the music, and if they have any sense, they'll leave this soundtrack out of their upcoming complete box set (Toto in toto). This is even more embarrassing than "Hold the Line". Their best work in this show is in the song "Fear is the Mind-Killer", which is overshadowed by its repetitive lyrics. Much of the blame can be be put on the collaborator and lyricist, Count Floyd Webster, whose influence can be felt throughout the show. We can only wonder what Muad'Dib! could have been like had the show been driven by Toto's vision, like other sci-fi musicals driven by auteur musicians (e.g. A Kraftwerk Orange).

Which brings us to the next complaint, bad lyrics throughout the show. This is nowhere near Webster's best work. For example, these lyrics from Muad'Dib!:

When you're Bene Gesserit you're Gesserit all the way
From your first Gom Jabar
to your last dying day
When you're Gesserit let them say what they say
You've got sisters around
You know the Weirding Way

…suffer in comparison to lyrics from Webster's version of A Brave New World:

A Brave New World
(don't you dare close your eyes)
that has such people in't!
(take soma - it gets better)
All my worries are gone
I'm no Epsilon
I feel like an Alpha Plus today

From "There's No Business Like CHOAM Business" to "Getting To Know Yueh, Getting To Know All About Yueh", the lyrics are second-rate. Even the best song in the show, "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face Dancer", lacks the subtlety of Webster's earlier work. By the end of the show, you will hear every possible rhyme with "water" and "spice". I don't even want to talk about what they did to "melange".

The choreography by Michael Vincent was also disappointing. His highly regarded work on the musical adaptation of Le Guin's "Left Hand of Darkness" (My Fair… Lady?) had me expecting better.

Bottom line, if you want to see a sci-fi musical, save your money for the much superior Neurodancer! Tunes to a Dead Channel.

Like others have written over the course of history, leaving the only home that I had ever known came as a huge shock.

Upon my self-inflicted protrusion from the body of the man Kane, I found myself in a scary world of bright lights and violent sounds. Imagine my surprise to find that the warm red-tinted fluid filled environment that had sheltered me during my early life was not the only manner of existence, or even the most prevalent one! This rude awakening left me unprepared to deal with a very different place than any I had previously encountered.

Taking a few breaths with my nascent lungs, I could only stop and contemplate my new mode. I wanted to drink in all of this new experience as quickly as I could and a cry of amazement and wonder burst out of my mouth unbidden. The white walls, the sharp tang of the too-dry air, even the faints smells of the preserved foodstuffs overwhelmed me as I turned back and forth. It was a wonderful moment in my life, and one that I will always treasure.

Moments quickly pass though and my arrival was unwelcome. Those present were not overtly hostile but I could sense in them a profound discomfort due to the loss of their companion and confusion as to my status among them. Later I would learn that this uncertainty lead to the acts of intolerance and contempt that I would later experience from the crew. At the time, however, I was indignant about their reactions on what I thought should be the happy occasion of my emergence and wasted little time before extricating myself from the uncomfortable locale.

AGENT SMITH AND SERAPH ARE IN THE BREAK ROOM, BY THE COFFEE MACHINE, BOTH HOLDING CUPS OF COFFEE. SERAPH CRADLES HIS WHILE SMITH STARES DISTANTLY INTO THE SLOWLY SWIRLING FROTH ON TOP. THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR, CUBICALS ARE VISIBLE.

AGENT SMITH: I’d like to share a revelation with you. Every day I come in here and work from 11 to 7 to sell the best long distance service and car title loans only to be hung up upon, ridiculed, and sworn at. You know what I’ve realized? It isn’t worth it. Not because the products aren’t worthy but because humans are not. They are a cancer on the necessary equilibrium of commerce of which we are all a part.

SERAPH: They must be tested before they can be found unworthy, sifted like grains of rice.

AGENT SMITH: How many have been found worthy? How many humans even listen for more than a moment before hanging up, assuming that what is on the line is simply a recording? Humans should be eliminated from this prison of a reality, replaced like the stinking animals that they are.

THE ARCHITECT APPROACHES WITH A DOUR EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE, AND POINTEDLY CHECKS HIS WATCH AS SMITH AND SERAPH TURN TO HIM.

THE ARCHITECT: While ninety-five percent of test subjects respond poorly to managerial advisement on these matters, further studies upon instances of this corporation have shown that strict limitations are necessary to the smooth execution of my perfectly designed operational plan. Ergo, it is in your best interest to go back to work now that the allotted time for your second daily fifteen-minute hiatus is over. Concordantly, Mr. Smith, you should be aware that this is the sixth such instance of reminder that I, the Architect, have been required to issue to you in the previous month and while it remains predictable that I will be shortly required to issue another rebuke I am aware that from your perspective such an imperative would seem proper to be assiduously avoided. Otherwise, a chain reaction may be set in motion that will ultimately result in the cataclysmic extrication of your employment from this sublimely planned and executed corporate entity, vis-à-vis, your job.

AGENT SMITH: I understand the rules. I know what I’m supposed to do, the purpose that drives me to work here, that defines me.

HE TURNS AND GOES BACK TO WORK. THE ARCHITECT TURNS TO SERAPH.

THE ARCHITECT: Friday night draws nearer, and inexorably so does the eventuality of my winning a substantial amount of money. It will be a crowning achievement of mathematical perfection in the game of poker.

SERAPH: I have beaten you before.

THE ARCHITECT: Denial is a most predictable response.

SERAPH POURS A BIT MORE COFFEE INTO HIS CUP AND FOLLOWS AGENT SMITH BACK INTO THE CUBICAL FARM.

I may come in support of an unpopular figure among your community but that contempt is ill-deserved.

Jar-Jar is one of the kindest and most dedicated persons in the Star Wars universe. He may not be the smartest Gungan but he works hard to support his ideals and asks for the same from his allies.

Who can forget his sorely needed assistance to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan during their travels on and through Naboo? His generous spirit and deep friendship with Anakin? His courage during the ground conflict of the Battle of Naboo?

Further, Jar-Jar shows intellectual curiosity, a willingness to explore, and many other admirable traits that this community significantly values. I am shocked that his limited social skills and problems communicating in larger societies doesn’t find resonance with many of this con’s attendees.

Jar-Jar Binks should be a role model for a new generation of geeks everywhere.