The Dutchman files down his teeth…
I don’t know if you know this, dear readers, but I’m generally a fairly relaxed individual. Yeah! I really am… I’m flowing gently along this stream that is called life, admiring the views, talking to people, learning shit… And then, if I feel like it, I write something! About movies, sure, but also about other things. Interdimensional squirrels. My uncle’s Lada. All sorts of stuff. And it’s cool, you know? All is well…
But, not always. Every so often something happens, even in a life as free-flowing as mine, that can upset even me. Usually it’s some stupid thing people do, like willingly destroy their own country (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), but every now and again, it’s a movie. THIS movie, to be precise. And when that happens—when someone makes something so stupid, so insulting, so downright hurtful—something changes inside me. I can feel it. Dark clouds begin to gather along the horizon of my otherwise sunny disposition. Something begins to stir. A beast with no name begins to rear its ugly head from somewhere deep inside my dark unconscious, and its eyes glow red.
I mean, why… Why do people do this? It’s just… Well, like I said, it’s hurtful. It actually, really hurts. On a physical level, yes, but it goes beyond that. This pain cuts right into your soul, man. It leaves a mark, you know. A blemish. A foul, rotten stench, as if the ancient graves of Mesopotamia had opened up and released all matter of unholy evil upon this world. Yes. It’s that bad.
I’m talking, of course, about the movie Transformers: Age of Extinction. And because it’s so evil, I will now destroy it. Once and for all. Are you ready? Okay, here goes…Oh, wait. In order to properly do that, I first have to watch the whole darn thing…
Let me explain that. Up until now, I never actually watched the whole movie. There’s a good reason for that, but first let me say that I sort of liked the first Transformers movie..? Yeah, I know how that sounds. I saw it a few times, but what I really only remember about it was that scene in which Optimus Prime and his buddies came crashing into Earth and took on their earthly appearance. I thought that was pretty cool. And, of course, that Shia LeBeouf and Megan Fox are some of the very worst people that ever existed, easily surpassing the likes of Stalin and Pol Pot in sheer, unadulterated wickedness. But that’s about it.
There’s a slight chance that this has something to do with the loss of memory that sometimes accompanies the passing of the years, but still… I also remember seeing the one with the beasties. You know, the big monkey and the mechanized pussycat? Why did I watch that, you ask? I don’t know, man… Probably because I was locked up in the ward of a psychiatric hospital where I was being treated for my insanity, after trying to burn my house down. I was sober, bored, and not all too happy, as you might imagine. And so, one night, I watched that movie! I’m SORRY, alright!? I was alone, and depressed, and… Anyway, it was crap. But not as bad as this. Oh, no. This is worse. Much, mùch worse. God, it’s… Wait, just… give me a second…
(pause)
Okay. I’m alright now. I just needed some time. I cried a little, if you must know. This movie, it’s…
Anyway. What I will do now, dear readers, is watch this whole movie. For you. For all mankind. Just to be absolutely clear of what is about to happen here, let me state this as best I can: I, Dutchman, will now watch the entirety of ‘Transformers: Age of Extinction‘. So you don’t have to. So no one has to. Ever. Lest we forget.
(pause)
(longer pause)
(Months go bye…)
Hey! Yes, I’m back. I’m sorry, dear readers. A lot has happened since I last wrote those words. I did indeed watch the whole movie. I then got so depressed that I had to be taken back to the hospital for some more treatment. And… I made it! Yes, I did. It was a close call, but I made it. So, on with the review, shall we?
The reason, by the way, I haven’t watched the entire movie until recently is that it’s too stupid. Okay? My brain simply can’t process such utter dreck. I get nosebleeds, and then it just shuts up. And we don’t want that, now do we?
So, Mark Wahlberg! I had some fun, during my time away, dreaming up punishments for him in order to set right this great evil that had been done to us. My mind turned immediately to medieval times, for some reason… Those guys from the Spanish Inquisition, they had some great ways of making people change their minds… But then I realized two things: first of all, no punishment in the world, no matter how ingeniously torturous, could ever make things right again. We, humankind, assuming that we don’t bring forth our own downfall through a combination of climate change and your president, will just have to soldier on, forever weighed down by the knowledge that we let this happen.
Second: that he is a moron. An imbecile. An utter simpleton. And you simply can’t hold those people responsible for their own actions. No, what you do is, you make a nice home, somewhere way off into the countryside, put a big electric fence around it, and lock these people in there. Treat them nice, you know. Feed them properly, let them watch all the Ellen reruns they want, and stuff their cookies with Haldol. Just so they can’t hurt the outside world anymore, you know?
And yes, I WAS talking about Mark Wahlberg.
The same canNOT, however, be said about Micheal Bay. No… This man deserves an entirely new paragraph! Now, I’m not going to join the rest of the angry mob that seems to inhabit some parts of this world in proclaiming loudly how Michael Bay is a sexist pig, an eleven-year-old that we somehow allowed to burn through millions of dollars that would have been put to better use if someone ground it all up and used it as lawn fertilizer, who has a long-standing and rather repulsive relationship with the military, and who is, in general, a heinous, vile, and utter detestable human being. No. I’m just going to kill him.
Not in a literal sense, of course. No! I can’t find out online where that evil prick lives, then go all the way to America and literally kill him! Of course not! I mean, I could, off course. There’s no real, physical reason that won’t allow me to do any of that. That’s not my point! The point is… that it would be wrong. Or something. Morally, you know? Just because that little anal fissure of a man thinks it’s alright to blast away whatever’s left of the faculties of our children, so that they all make the wrong choices, come voting-time, and so brings forth the downfall of all mankind, doesn’t give me the right to actually murder another human being. What I CAN do, however, is imagine. And I will. As long as I can still think freely, there’s no power in the universe that can stop me from lying here on my couch, naked, and slowly pleasuring myself while imagining all the things I’d like to do to Michael Bay…
Back to the movie, now, shall we? Before things get out of hand… So where, might I ask, is Miss Yeager? Why is she so glaringly missing from this otherwise picture-perfect example of the average American family? (What’s that, you say? It’s not? Really? So, what you’re actually saying is that this movie is total and utter bullshit and highly offensive to anyone with an IQ higher than that of a cauliflower? You DON’T say…) I tell you where she is. Dead, probably. She most likely died immediately after giving birth to that hellish offspring, from a fatal combination of crushing shame and the deepest of self-loathing, followed by pitch-black depression. A jug of moonshine with some fentanyl to help speed things along, as they say, and it’s bye, bye, miss American pie. Your levee got fracked and your Chevy fell apart into rusty flakes a long time ago, so…
But the kids are alright. That’s the most important thing.
Now, I will not and cannot describe the rest of this movie for you. God knows I tried. My brain just goes into complete lock-up while trying. Like someone puts my head in a vice and slowly starts cranking. It’s torture. It’s hell. I won’t. Fuck off.
A final word to the rest of the crew of this movie: you will, at the very least, receive a strongly worded letter, which will explain to you, in the very clearest of language, why you must never, ever, EVER work on something THIS horrible again. And for those of you that might think they’re getting off easy, keep in mind that I will be the one writing those letters. Yeah. That’s right. But I’ll promise I’ll try to be nice.
One last thing, and then I’m going back to being stoned and happy again: I had my robot buddy run some numbers, and it turns out that the budget for this monstrosity could’ve fed around forty thousand Americans living on social security—for an entire year. Think about that. Then I asked it to go global, and guess what? That same money could’ve fed four hundred thousand people in India. For a year. You fat slobs.
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