Only four more muthaf---ing days...
…of running Snakes on a Plane into the ground. How will life change after the debut of the most deliberate and deliberated B-movie in history? Will we need a new hyphenation to describe it if the humor shoots past so-bad-it’s-good into so-intentionally-bad-it’s-unintentionally-bad? Will snakes finally be given the vote? Will we have anything left to fill the pages of our magazine?
I don’t want to think about it. Instead, let’s meditate on the real-world parallels. Perhaps you recall last week’s obligatory pre-election terror fiesta. Some speculated on how it might affect the opening of Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center. (It didn’t.) Meanwhile, more serious minds speculated on how it would affect the head-explodingly meta world of Snakes on a Plane parodies.
As with every great cultural event, the oddsmakers are getting in on the action. Yes, you can now gamble on the number of times Samuel L. Jackson utters his famous tribute to mothers everywhere. We know that it’s a number more than two and less than 2 billion. Seems a dicey proposition, given script leaks and advance screenings. Just know, potential Henry Gondorfs, that getting one’s kneecaps broken ironically hurts just a little too much. That the man with the baseball bat is wearing a pre-shrunk Heaven’s Gate T-shirt is of little comfort.
You excited, reader? Over it already? So over it you’re under it again? Or some other prepositional phrase I haven’t thought of?