I normally don’t go to the big summer blockbusters within a week of their release because my burgeoning sociopathic tendencies make me think it’s a good idea to bring a claw hammer to the multiplex in order to dispense my own brand of Waldorf and Statler justice to the slack jawed hordes that just have to see a movie on the first weekend it comes out. Let me give you an example.
My little brothers desperately wanted to see “Jumper” when it came out. After my father offered up a sufficient enough cash bribe I agreed to take them. After sitting through ninety minutes of the worst movie ever made, as the credits are rolling, one of my brother’ classmates walks by our row of seats and – in recognizing my brother – loudly asks, “Hey, did you see the same movie?” At which point I yelled, “Nope, we’ve been sitting in the same theater watching The Muppets Take Manhattan.” Just as that kid’s dad was about to give me what-for I verbally accosted him for raising a dullard…but not before graciously kicking him in the grapes and rubbing popcorn in his eyes. He thanked me for enlightening him.
These are the kind of people that make me feel good about downloading screeners off of the internet.
But since this is going to be one of the biggest blockbuster summers on record I’m going to risk jail time for your amusement. I hope you’re fucking happy internet.
This year’s first blockbuster is an ass kicking opus about how great robots are: IRONMAN. Now I’m gonna tell you right now that this article probably contains spoilers. I’m not really sure what’s been seen online or on tv but I’m going to discuss the movie here and if you read on and I spoil something for you don’t get your vagina all in a twist and don’t bitch at me.
Our story starts with billionaire genius Tony Stark being kidnapped by terrorists and forced to build a bomb. Quagmired in a plot reminiscent of Back To The Future Tony Stark does not build a time machine out of a DeLorean and travel back to 1985 – instead he throws together a robotic suit of armor with spare parts in a fashion that would make MacGyver look like the bemulletted, over rated hack that he is.
Tony Stark is, by far, the greatest scietist/inventor ever. Allow me to present this highly scientific chart that pits Tony Stark against some of the most noted minds in history.
|Nails hot chicks like
most people breathe air
|Can build anything out
of anything with stupendous
|Can sing opera|
|Eccentric billionaire who can
own anything he wants
|Harnessed a new form
|Developed a robotic suit
|Super hot personal assistant|
I’d like to see Einstein try to score a supermodel. No talent hack.
This two hour epic on the truths about why robots are more kick ass than ninjas, pirates and lumberjacks combined continues as we watch Tony Stark develop a new super armor with the assistance of his super advanced 3D rendering software and his comic relief robot helpers. That’s right, the man who would become a robot has robot helpers. That’s tantamount to Hugh Heffner having naked female assassins for body guards. Robot helpers and hot naked female assassins – looks like Santa’s getting an updated list from one internet asshole this year.
As he’s building his new suit of armor Tony Stark finds out that the same terrorists that were holding him hostage have gotten their hands on a bunch of Stark Enterprise weaponry and he decides to take matters into his own hands. So he jumps in his robot suit and flies to the Middle East in around six minutes. From Los Angeles!
Let me break down the math for you.
As the crow flies a trip from Los Angeles to Baghdad is 7660 miles. The F22 Raptor, the Air Force’ newest fighter jet cruises at 1,325 mph. Without considering stops for refueling, even dropping out of cruise for mid-air refueling, it would take a Raptor 5.78 hours to make that trek. It took iron man SIX FUCKING MINUTES. That means he was flying at roughly 127,666 mph. That means the Ironman suit beats the shit out of any country’s most advanced aircraft, the straship Enterprise and the Millennium Falcon. Of course in my hands I’d probably just end up doing what those guys from Blue Thunder did and scope out naked chicks who were jazzercising in their 1980s living rooms.
Once he’s flown to the Middle East he beats the holy piss out of a bunch of terrorists and then he fights a tank. Let me repeat that for those of you who didn’t catch it: A robot fights a motherfucking tank. If you’re not sprouting some sort of physiological sign of being horribly aroused (hard nipples, raging boner, moist in the crotch – take your pick) then you’re probably not human. Or at the very least not entertained as easily as I am by sophomoric humor. And by sophomoric I mean absolutely fucking awesome ideas like robots fighting tanks, canons that shoot sharks and a mountain made of bacon that is inhabited solely by extremely hot lesbians…who have no problem with public nudity, or people eating their tasty, tasty mountain.
He beats the tank with a single knockout punch reminiscent of a Mike Tyson bout – sans the ear biting and all of the prison rape – and decides that now that he has laid the smack down it’s time to head back to America for cocktails and skirt chasing. Once he is back in America our attention is turned to the real bad guy who has found Tony Stark’s original “Escape the terrorists” armor and decided to reverse engineer that into his own Super suit of armor making him a bigger and better armed robot than Ironman himself. So without spoiling the movie; Ironman has to fight an even bigger robot in order to win the day.
Robot image courtesy of one of my favorite sites: I FIGHT ROBOTS
So far he’s escaped terrorist kidnapping, fought the terrorists who stole his company’s weapons, fought a fucking tank and now he has to fight a gigantic robot. That’s like defeating Godzilla and just as the celebration orgy breaks out, Godzilla’s mother comes around the corner, distraught over the death of her child and puts a serious cramp on your all asian booby bonanza.
Ironman is obviously victorious – because how the fuck are you going to cash in on a sequel when the main character is dead? As the movie ends, and the sun sets, we pull back away from Tony Stark’s palatial mansion on the Malibu Cliffs and we find the answer to that great universal question: what would you do if you were up to your tits in massive piles of fuck you money?
I’d become a robot and fly around the world fighting terrorists.
That and I’d be balls deep in every super-model I could find.
Robotic balls that is.
Good night everybody.