It's Time to Move

To Mars. No, seriously. Now that we're out here in H'wood, "living the dream"-- which is, apparently, being some overpaid douche bag's assistant for an indefinite amount of time until we make enough connections to move up the ladder to become an overpaid douche bag in our own right, we are more befuddled by our motivations for succumbing to the terrible advice, "Go West, young (wo)man" than ever. "The Dukes of Hazzard" grossed $30.7 million dollars in its opening weekend. We do not know any individual who would call this film worthy of such a "boffo bow" (apologies-- our brain has been poisoned by Varietybonics). What makes this worse is we are essentially guaranteed that there will now be a sequel to this remake of a TV show that was pretty shitty to begin with. Granted, the involvement of Jay Chandrasekhar and others of Broken Lizard fame is noteworthy. But, it's also a lot like telling us there's a little bit of delicious flan in the steaming pile of feces you're giving us. The point of this tirade is simply that we are saddened to think that "making it" out here can mean finally (finally!) getting street cred for something as awesome as, say, "Supertroopers" will only get you as far as a Jessica "My Boobs Are Accessories" Simpson vehicle. Perhaps if we keep working hard to produce good shit while we're here on the bottom, we can keep our fingers crossed to direct "White Chicks 2: Black Inaction" in a couple of years. We'll try to keep our own level of douche baggery to a minimum, when the time comes.