[  Mood: Fed Up WIth Life ]
[  Currently: Playing Ninety-Nine Nights ]
Often when I wake up at noon, I open my blood shot eyes, deliver a morning breath yawn to the face of whoever is next to me, scratch my hairy gut and wonder out loud, "Hey, what’s going on with the next Indiana Jones movie?" The answer, for years, has been: a-nothing. The answer, for years to come, will probably be: nooooothing.

Lucas, Ford and Spielberg have teased fans about an Indiana Jones sequel since 1999. I know, I used to fight about it on the internet. Every year, some journalist would ask Harrison Ford about the project, and he’d say, "Go beat up Spielberg about it!" Spielberg would say, "I’m ready, Harry’s ready, go talk to George." And then George would smile, shrug, say "Star Wars!" and giggle into a wad of money.

This is odd. Because even though the films have been dead, the franchise has kinda lived on. The Indiana Jones Stunt Spectacular draws in a full crowd at Disney’s MGM Studios every show, and has done so for about fifteen years, despite changing almost nothing about the show in all that time. The Disneyland ride, Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye, has surpassed mainstays such as Star Wars and the Haunted House in popularity. There was even a heavily under hyped television series about young Indiana Jones, wherein Harrison Ford made a cameo as an older Indy:

Now I refer ye here: Harrison’s IMDB entry. As you can see, the man’s so filthy rich that he only works about three months a year, and has thus turned out about one movie a year. Don’t get me wrong, all of those are great flicks in recent years (except Random Hearts and What Lies Beneath), but what largely drives ticket sales is teasing Indiana Jones IV in the drive to press. "Oh, wha? He’s doing Indiana Jones IV? I better go see his new movie to make sure I still like him." And this works on many people, myself included. This is a low, low tactic, and will ensure that I’m going to be sitting through a damn Civil War documentary next year. Thanks a lot, my own gullible sensibilities!

Still, the dream lives. Hardly a month goes by without one of the triumverate announcing that they have a script they’re all happy about. Frankly, if they aren’t going to do another Indiana Jones movie, can’t someone backhand Tom Clancy until he gives Jack Ryan back to Ford? Imagine that: President Harrison Ford. How awesome would that be?

D’oh. Oh, yeah. That was pretty freakin’ awesome.

[  Mood: Sick ]
[ Currently: Not eating any more candy ]
You know that part of Farenheit 451, where the firefighter’s wife has to get stomach pumped because she took too many mind numbing medications? Like, she took a pill, forgot that she took it, then took another pill, forgot that she took it, then took another pill, over and over again. Well, I did that, but replace the word "pill" with "several pounds of candy." I believe that I’m about to slip into a chococoma, the most delicious of all deadly ways to enduce unconsciousness.

Oh, man, I had door duty this year, too. There’s going to be a lot of disappointed kids who won’t be getting tootsie rolls this year. And I’m on the second floor, too – that’s a lot of steps to scale for nothing.

Worst of all, my hallucinations are mocking me. I nod off to sleep a little, and here comes that Goddamn sarcastic red M&M, messing around on my laptop, deleting my porn and laughing. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find futanari in English? Bastard.

I need to friggin barf already, but the candies are happy where they are. All that Mr. Goodbar is really going to leave a stain on the toilet bowl. I am an orbital poop rail gun, waiting to be hijacked by terrorists in space, and tested on some camp site in the middle of nowhere as a show of force to the president. That could’ve been Washington, Mr. President! Do something! Yes, I’m watching a Steven Seagal movie.

Seriously, screw that guy.