by Matty Boy Anderson 06.02.08
Dear Internet:
Please die. You ruin everything. If at all possible, fuck yourself to death. I hate you so much that were it feasible to give you AIDS telepathically, you would have sores on top of your lesions by now. Please, please, please die.
Sincerely and with much burning hatred,
Me
Now that I've gotten the formalities out of the way, I would like to invite everyone on the internet who hated Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull to read this page in its entirety. Really, take your hairy hand off of your excuse for a cock for five seconds, close out that forum thread you've been refreshing every two, and read on. However, I must warn you: there are Spoilers Ahead. For example:
- You will die alone, after never knowing true love or fulfillment.
Sorry if that ruined anything for you. Your delusion runs pretty deep. You firmly believe that owning a computer and having internet access makes you a more valid movie critic than Roger Ebert. Well, guess what: you're not. In fact, Ebert all but called you out as a simpering bitch in his positive review of Crystal Skull. Yeah, that is correct; Ebert's review was POSITIVE, even GLOWING. Why?
BECAUSE CRYSTAL SKULL WAS REALLY GOOD, AND YOU ARE A PISSY LITTLE SHIT.
You're not smarter than Roger Ebert. You do not know more about movies than Roger Ebert. You do not know more about movies than George Lucas. You went on the fucking internet, found a zillion other mealy-mouthed bitches cawing the same idiot woes about Crystal Skull, and assumed your malformed opinion was valid or worthwhile. Which brings me to my main point:
FUCK YOUR CHILDHOOD.
I don't pay to go see YOUR CHILDHOOD. YOUR CHILDHOOD has jack-shit to do with me enjoying a new Star Wars or Indiana Jones chapter. YOUR CHILDHOOD probably involved anal invasion with a weird uncle. I don't know you, I don't know the asshole parents who spawned you, and I could not conceivably care less about your exalted, untouchable-in-theory-but-not-in-practice CHILDHOOD. The rest of the world doesn't need a constant reminder that you are a stunted MAN-CHILD.
YOUR CHILDHOOD is the reason I have to endure your endless complaining and keening; you think it automatically justifies the diarrhea coming out of your mouth. It infects every single website I visit (unless I do a web blackout, like I did in the days before Crystal Skull). Phantom Menace RAPED YOUR CHILDHOOD. Transformers RAPED YOUR CHILDHOOD. Sounds to me like YOUR CHILDHOOD is a fucking prostatot with a gaping asshole who begs for constant reaming through KY-smeared lips. Why the fuck is it MY FAULT that your inner child is a slut whose anus can't get enough hot cocks?!
Hey, asshole: let's talk about MY CHILDHOOD for a hot minute. MY CHILDHOOD included Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, in 1984. Because I was 11 and also alive, I loved it. It was the first great popcorn movie. Shit, it was the first PG-13 movie; and I was ELEVEN. I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark in the theater when I was 9, you mewling little shits. Temple of Doom was my first sequel (even though it was technically my first prequel). I'd never seen action that relentless and intense in a movie; nobody had yet. Obviously, it was the talk of the schoolyard.
And then, when I returned to school after the summer, the Forefathers of Internet Assclowns started their yowling, simply to be contrary to what the other kids liked (sound familiar, internet?). Get a load of this; the scuttlebutt was that PEOPLE WALKED OUT DURING THE OPENING OF TEMPLE OF DOOM. That's right; they saw that musical number with the future Mrs. Spielberg winding up, figured that the movie was a musical I guess, and WALKED OUT OF A MOVIE THEY PAID FOR, in the FIRST FEW MINUTES. So there you go, facile opinion formed. Conclusion: you're stupid for liking the movie. Thanks a bunch, apocryphal movie-leaving assholes!
And ohhhhh, when Indy et al escaped that plane on top of a yellow inflatable raft, everyone I knew was suddenly an expert in physics and velocity. Never mind that no one I knew was over 13; they were positive that there was no way they would have survived that raft drop, nope, nope, nope. I was left to imagine the surely awesome version of Temple of Doom that would satisfy them, where ten minutes in everyone is dashed to death on the rocks. Is it okay to start that version with the musical number? I mean, I don't want to risk anyone queening out over their perfect little ten minute Indiana Jones movie where all the characters die, negating Raiders in the process. Don't mind me, Movie Experts Genius Group.
I was 16 when Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade came out. Hi, have we met? I'm the Single Solitary Person On Earth who didn't bitch when Indy got his hat, whip, chin-scar and fear of snakes all in one afternoon. But man, I bet it would have been an EVEN BETTER MOVIE if we'd spent an hour detailing the careful acquisition of Indy's trademark inventory. Fuck, make it two hours, then we can call it Indiana Jones and the How He Gets His Hat, Whip, Ophidiophobia and Chin-Scar Over The Course of His Early Development. Goddamn, tell me again why you aren't a major Hollywood player with all your grand ideas? Wow, Lucas should be calling you. You are fucking BRILLIANT!!!
Haha, yeahright. Let's be realistic; you are a lonely guy bitching on the internet. You may as well fart in a bottle and chuck it out to sea; you'd accumulate more respect that way. You criticize George Lucas at every turn because 1) you believe, for some inexplicable reason, that he "owes you" for your pathetic fan-devotion, and 2) you are totally bitter because YOUR wonderful little fantasies don't gross $300 million in a weekend. I mean, it's just NOT FAIR; you could TOTALLY come up with a better character than Jar Jar! Lest we forget Jar Jar! Jar Jar! Jar Jar! You could TOTALLY do better than Jar Jar! A-DUH!! IT'S JAR JAR!!!!
Well, fuck you. No you couldn't. How do I know? Because you would have done it by now. Everyone on the internet has their golden ticket to make fun of everything, everywhere. Which is fine, because sometimes it's funny. But most of the time it's not. About 90% of it is just spite from people who have no idea what to put in something's place once they've mocked it into oblivion. It's like being stuck at the door of a party where you have to inform every person who enters about the SAME BLATANTLY OBVIOUS RULES, even though common sense dictates that they should already know them. But anonymity, like a loaded pistol, is dangerous in the wrong hands. Anonymity gives a lot of people with deep-seated personal problems the chance to let their inner brat run buckwild. Plain office women become rampaging sluts. 13-year-old boys become trolls. Hurtful geeks become unrepentant spammers. And failed, spiteful losers become experts on anything that doesn't have certified authorities within earshot.
So here we are. After 19 years, a new Indiana Jones movie came out that's easily as good as Last Crusade. As I watched it, I could practically FEEL Lucas and company second-guessing the internet haters, minding every possible plot hole, attending to every slight inconsistency. In the tradition of the other IJ films (which, by the way, THEY FUCKING CREATED), Crystal Skull more than delivers. A seasoned Indy fan like myself can catch a zillion subtle references to past movies, the most obvious being Indy's angry sideways glance at Mutt on the motorcycle, recalling the same shot from Last Crusade. No Jones chestnut, not the theme, not the whip, not the fear of snakes, was over-roasted. Everything felt, to an Indy fan of ALMOST TWENTY YEARS (aka "the entire time"), dead-on and right, excepting perhaps the lack of bombastic musical cues. And if anyone complains about there being "aliens" in Crystal Skull, punch them directly in the face, and tell them it's from me. Maybe next movie they see, they'll clean the shit out of their ears. Aliens. God damn I hate the internet. What, have you cooked up a NEWER form of ADD to excuse your inability to comprehend simple sentences? It must be great to have parents that believe absolutely anything, in their dogged quest to keep from seeing you as the worthless remora that you are.
The entire internet is an expert on the character of Marion Ravenwood, thanks to all the slash fiction they've written since she appeared in Raiders in 1981. The entire internet knows how stupid it is for Marion to have a placid expression in Crystal Skull, as she and Indy face peril and death. Too bad the entire internet is such a bona fide expert that they don't pay attention to anything. Like:
- The first time we meet Marion, she wins a drinking contest against a gigantic manwomanbear. In a tavern she runs by herself. In Nepal.
- We also see her outwit (and outdrink) Rene Belloq, Indy's worst rival, who on numerous occasions has outwitted Indy.
- Oh yeah: MARION WAS TIED TO A POST, WEARING NOTHING BUT A SILK NIGHTGOWN, EYES SHUT TIGHT AS THE ARK OF THE MOTHERFUCKING COVENANT WAS OPENED.
Remember that last one? Marion had to keep her eyes shut as screaming faces melted, Nazis burst like overfed ticks, and an unexplained force loudly Hoovered the earth clean. It's only referenced on the internet, oh, about every single second. AND: SHE WASN'T EVEN WEARING A BRA. So maybe, just maybe, something like going over a waterfall in an amphibious vehicle isn't going to make her holler, 20 years later. Just guessing here. I mean... YOU had to cover YOUR eyes when they opened the Ark, didn't you? Pussy. Once your nipples have been shielded from the wrath of God by a micron of satin, then you can talk about who's tough and who isn't.
This is it in a nutshell, folks. People aren't hating on Crystal Skull for what it is, but for what it isn't; namely, their own personal fantasy. It's the same thing that happened with the Star Wars prequels. Get a Prequel Hater face to face and tell them to judge those movies objectively, without using the words "sucks" or "hate". Their head will explode, just like Belloq's. How do I know? Because that's what happens when I not only mention that I love the Prequels, but when I calmly defend them with-- dig this-- rational viewpoints. Once I get around to nitpicking the Original Trilogy in the same manner as they bash on the Prequels, they've descended to the level of shit-chucking ape. Some people were more vocal and vitriolic when Greedo shot first than when the fucking planes hit the towers. I don't think human mothers are equipped for that level of shame.
We do not yet know of a parallel universe where people are worshipped and respected for their vast knowledge of movie trivia. In our universe, these types of people are generally shunned. This is because in reality, knowing the exact circumstances under which Indiana Jones got his hat is not a job skill or work criteria. You can wish, and wish, and wish, but the world will always be this way. If you wish hard enough, you can converge with a group on the internet who will forgive your flaws, mostly because they make their own flaws look less glaring. You can meet with these people somewhere, where you can all complain en masse about how George Lucas has been personally sodomizing you your entire life. In time, you can fool yourself into thinking you're typical or normal, because your juvenile opinions are being validated (or simply listened to).
Thanks to the internet, you can be so fat, unwashed and disgusting, that you give an entire hotel cholera, because you're too ill-bred and repulsive to wash the shit off your hands before you hit the buffet. You can dress up like a giant raccoon and let other guys fuck you in your plushy striped butt. You can be a woman with sub-retardian ideals about feminism and "the oppressive patriarchy", and women with even dumber dogmas will applaud you like you're Ayn Rand and Sappho rolled into one greasy unshorn package astride a shimmering unicorn. You can defend pedophilia, eating assholes, or sucking a horse's cock. You can comport yourself as the net's slickest humorist and a harsh critic of humanity, while being over 400 pounds and on your fourth Famous Bowl of the morning. You can incite visitors to guess what object you've shoved up your ass. You can pretend you're a real-life girl from a fucking anime, culling moola from horny otaku perverts, as long as no one ever sees your teeth, which resemble a rusty broken woodchipper. As long as you don't piss anybody off enough to call you out, the internet is the fabled Promised Land of Make-Believe. In truth, it is the Land of Cautionary Tales.
Sure, you think I'm overreacting. Really, I'm just glad there was no internet when the other two Indy sequels came out. IMDB's message board posters obviously pride themselves on their ability to poop on the paper; visit the Crystal Skull page if you doubt the source of my rancor. What delirious joy it would have been to come home after enjoying Last Crusade in 1989, and witness the tirade of special-Ed posts that would unfurl on opening night like so much rancid bologna. Or after Temple of Doom, for that matter:
- OMG MINE CAR SCEEN SO FAKE OMG!!!!!!
- Why thye not die in Raft: What I thiNk
- YEAH RITE HE CUD RELLY RIP A HART OUT??!! LOL
- BewBs OMG Willy Scot BewBs ;-)
- Short Round Totally Raceist: WRONG
- "cLUB oBI wAN???" LOL LOL LOL ghey
- WE LEFT THERE WAS A MUSCIAL NUMBER WTF?????????
- That was suppsoed to be Lavva? LOLshe would die
- Bridge sceene- falling- FAKE LOKING
- So Why the F do Stones Glow?????
- {Please No More Mr. Lucas: My Child
hood's Asshole Is Hanging Out And Distended}
- Pleez Explane Y Rocks Glow???
- Snake Surpise: Raceist!!!!
- I am a Christian on the Web and This Offends Me (Read Plz)
- WTF??? Eyeballs In Soup!!?!111
- STUPID-- Indy movie No Nazzis??? FAIL
- Speelbirg is PEDO: Look at WHIPING SENE!!!!
- ITT I am grown man who is VERRY disapointed
- Where is MaRRION? Willie Scottt WTF???? Who??
- INDANA JONS SHOULD NOT SAY SH*T (Agnry!!!)
- Lucas you have failed Failed Hard
- WHY IS THEIR SINGING AND MUSICAL???!?!!?fag
- TEMPAL OF DOOM SO STUPID TITEL OMG
- Harrson Ford Spit n my food once (real)
- wOrSt iNdY yEt!1!1!
- Whips Not Work This Way (iam Expret)
- Why Lucis is a Fail
- Shud Have Stopped At Star Warz!!8***!
- SATANIST MOVIE IHAVE PROOF MODS DONT DELETE!!!!
I kicked around the idea of going to the actual IMDB page for Temple Of Doom, and copying some real thread titles, but then I realized that I could say that I did that with all of them, and nobody would know the difference. I also tried to make the whole experience more authentic with an ASCII middle finger rendering, but I gave up. I hope the effort is at least appreciated.
Opinions are like assholes, as the old cliche goes. Everyone has one, and they all stink. And when you spend all your time showing your asshole to everybody, you become a part of that neverending stream of smelly assholes that is the internet. Here we are in 2008, and nobody knows how to sit down and enjoy a movie anymore. It's all about being more clever and smart than everyone who does like the movie, and flaunting that imagined suavity on the web. And ask anyone "IRL"; it is very much imagined. You are a human being defined by how much you hate a piece of popular entertainment. You might as well open up a booth selling frozen turds, because you're about as useful. You have nothing new to say, no new way to say it, and deep down you know you can't exist without the movies you claim to hate so much. If Greedo hadn't shot first, you would have spent the late nineties with your thumb in your ass two knuckles deep. I mean, what else would you have done with your time?
Personally, I get a lot of grief for being "that guy who hates everything". This is incorrect. Not everything; just YOU. Why? Because YOU MAKE ME LOOK BAD. You run amok with your middle fingers in the air, convinced you're a true rebel. When I Fucking Hate something, I have a goddamned GOOD REASON. I've taken time to weigh the pros and cons. Here's an example: I hate American Idol. It celebrates bad taste like it's something to be championed. Mediocrity and girls who think they can sing are treated as highly desirable, instead of "an offense". They pump and dump cookie-cutter pop superstars every season, and every year the strata of popular music gets worse. I equate people who watch AI religiously with people who eat nothing but McDonalds, every meal. You don't know any better, you have terrible taste, you have no grasp of "irony", and you'd eat a handful of steaming dogshit if a clown served it to you on a sesame-seed bun. You are the reason that to the rest of the world, America appears to be the most uncultured pile of sows to ever roll in their own shit. You're the reason that George W. Bush is our fucking president. You're the reason we can't have nice things.
But, I decline to flesh out an entire article about how much I Hate American Idol. Why? Because I don't want to appear like YOU. You rage at EVERYTHING, in the hopes that something will stick, and that someone, somewhere, will email you in agreement, thus validating your dart-board efforts. (I'm sure you're familiar with the "million monkeys with typewriters" analogy.) You're a living version of Greedy Smurf, or the purple "Gnaps" (in fact you probably pepper your rants with pop-culture refs, to snare that precious n00b demographic). You think you're the first person to RRRRRRAGE on the net, and that the world cannot help but to bow at your mighty dunks. You think that a web page ranting about American Idol would mean a single goddamn thing to a single goddamn person alive or dead.
But you're too hormonal or dumb to understand that rage is only funny or interesting in prescribed doses. No one liked Greedy Smurf; they tolerated him because he was a part of their community. Judging by your efforts, I wouldn't even want you as part of my species. Nobody would; this is why you rely on negative reinforcement to get the attention you crave. HEY, EVERYONE, LOOK AT ME! I HATED THAT THING THAT YOU ALL LIKED! CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW UNIQUE AND OUTRE I AM?!? Why stop with popular movies? Blue skies suck. Flowers aren't pretty-- they deserve a punch in the face! NEWBORN KITTENS SUCK!!!
You make a choice when you post on the internet. It's the 21st century version of first impressions, and you still only get one, no matter what you think. We are firmly in the first era where you can spend your entire lifetime doing things that will mean absolutely nothing in 100 years, and have no bearing on your survival. Why should anyone care about your "blog"? It's one of ten million, and you didn't even design the page yourself. In ten years, Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones will all still exist, and you won't have changed the opinion of a single, solitary person who loved them. You are not a movie critic. Ebert is, and his page will still be up in ten years. You'll have a messy stroke from your first WordPress crash. I mean shit, your awesome article about noisy kids in restaurants was in there!
You can choose to be defined by who you actually are, not by how loudly you tear down other people's ideas. You make it all too clear that you don't care, and that you have nothing to lose, which guarantees that you'll be ignored in due time by just about everyone. Why? Because you think you can tell everyone else how to do their job. If there existed inside you the slightest bit of pride, either for yourself or for something you created with loving care and hurled into the big bad old world, you wouldn't even open your mouth in the first place. You'd fear that karma coming back one day soon, in the form of an Internet Asshole who makes it his life's focus to deride and annihilate everything you create or care about. You'll pull out every synonym for "loser" in your thesaurus to describe how low this fuckhead is for shitting on your babies. You'll say he "takes the internet too seriously". You'll fake a stiff upper lip as your mind descends into torment at the idea of someone doing everything possible to call you untalented and lame. But deep down, you know you had it all coming. You fucking had it coming.
But hey, I'll be sensitive to your plight. I know it's not all your fault. See, when you were around ten years old, someone larger and stronger than you was supposed to inflict pain and injury on you when you started in with your silly shit. For whatever reason, this person didn't show. The fact that everyone in America is currently suing each other probably has something to do with your pussification. The minute you complained about some stupid nit-picky thing from Star Wars or Indiana Jones, your mouth was intended to be clogged with a flying fist. Maybe your mom was giving out blowjobs or something, and you escaped notice. Now we're all on the internet, where nobody can punch you when you deserve it, and you're fooled into thinking you're better than the rest of us. You're not. You've just found the one place where you can't be punched. So shut up and stay there.
Initially, I intended this page as a nostalgic reverie, where I would reminisce about how Crystal Skull took me back 20 years, and reminded me of all the things I loved about Indy as a kid. I was mentally compiling lists of all the cool things I noticed, and how it had the best (and biggest) fistfights I've seen in decades. Obviously, as I demonstrated early in this rant, I can go on and on about Marion, one of the earliest crushes I ever had. I could tell you how thematically consistent the movie is, how it simultaneously stands on its own and hearkens back to earlier chapters. I could tell you how the climax of Crystal Skull beautifully ties every Indy movie together. I was all set to collect pics for an exhaustive in-depth look that everyone could learn and gain insight from. I'd love to tell you how every micro-second Harrison Ford was on-screen, from the first moment, I never saw him as ANYBODY BUT Indiana Jones; in fact I caught myself laughing at the fact that I couldn't see him as Harrison Ford. I could explain to you, in detailed terms, why Crystal Skull was absolutely worth the wait.
But then you say things like "Indiana X-Files".
So fuck you. Go back to your wall scrolls and Magic cards. The more you hate on Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, the more I'll publicly crush on it. I'll find out what movies you love, and I'll make you feel stupid for loving them. I'll bitch-slap you with your own hypocrisy. I'll show you what it's like to have the things you enjoy totally ruined. I will fucking teach you the meaning of the word "spoil". So think about that the next time your cursor hovers over that post button.
And shut the fuck up when grown folks is talking.
You drink blood
You not
Wake up
From nightmare
-MBA
ps internet i still love u
