Our old buddy Ralph Nader has the same bug up his butt about movies that don't start at the time stated. Forcing ads on captive, paying customers is just one more reason movie theaters need to wise up like ArcLight, or go the way of drive-ins and dodo birds. Until then, give me a hi-def, big-screen LCD with 5.1 surround, my own couch and a few cold beers, any day. No screaming kids, sticky floors or off-center seating. It's the way movies were meant to be seen—in peace.
They call it Paintball, or Splatball. I call it just plain stupid. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, it's this: You drive out into the boonies, dressed like Rambo, then arm up with a compressed air pellet gun that shoots gumball-sized plastic balls with paint in them. Then you split up into teams and play Capture The Flag. The idea being, if you shoot someone with a paintball, it will, upon impact, break and stain his clothes, "killing" him. This is where it gets messy. While your team is trying to go through the woods to their camp and back with flag in tow, they are trying to do likewise. Herein lies the potential for conflict. The opposing team gathers, and right quickly I might add, that if they shoot everyone on your team, it will make their journey all that
For 8 years, I believed George Bush was an unrepentant charlatan, an ineloquent dolt and a power-hungry madman, but maybe—just maybe—I was wrong about him. Maybe there was another reason for his lies, war-mongering and mass eradication of our Constitutionally guaranteed rights and freedoms.
In a stunning—and very unsettling—turn of events, modern scientists have found evidence supporting the ancient Mayan prediction of an apocalypse in the year 2012. Mayan astronomers supposedly predicted that 2012 would mark the calamitous “birth of a new era”—an era marked by the rise of giant, sentient cockroaches, I'm guessing.
In Tampa, they've got this thing called Guavaween. It happens every Halloween and it's basically an excuse for about 200,000 deviant, twisted individuals to express their personal sexual preferences by dressing up and parading up and down 7th Avenue in Ybor City (the alternative area of Tampa). Everyone wore something black. But that's not very unusual for these people. They think they're from NYC. They're the kind of teens whose lives are perfect and parents are rich. So when they feel that rebellious teen angst, they reject their suburban existence by dying their blond hair black, dressing in all black and living on the seedy side of town and denouncing their parent's wealth. (At least until rent is due.)