Tuesday, 10 November 2009


UK release date: 13 November 2009
Starring: John Cusack and a bunch of other people we're going to assume are just paying the bills

It's a film. Called "2012". I totally haven't seen it. As usual. And since the posters don't have any amateur athletes getting blown away by some evil terrorist organisation that's totally trying to get rid of major global sporting events forever, I'm guessing this isn't some Olympics-based mega-action thriller.

That only leaves one option. Time travel. And that sucks.

Why? Because if you're going to spend all that time and money to build a freaking time machine, if you're going to give up any chance you might have had to hook up with that hot girl who lives next door that you've always secretly wanted to lick just to see what hotness tastes like, if you're going to absolutely guarantee that you will never get that big career break that you always wanted but that was being held up by an ancient co-worker who just refuses to die or retire, and you do all that to create a machine that could take you ANYWHERE or ANYWHEN, then why in the name of all that is horny would you go to 2012?

Dude, that's like TWO YEARS from now.

Why not go back 43 minutes? That's what I'd do. Just so I could avoid getting on to that lift and letting rip with that very evil and very ripe one I just couldn't hold in. (I swear it wasn't intentional. Honestly. Even I thought it was nasty and I kind of like my own stink so I can only imagine how horrifying it must have been for the seven other people stuck in there with me.)

Or maybe I'd go back to last night when I ordered that curry in the first place, so I could change my mind, maybe get something healthy instead of something that turned me into a freaking leaky toxic dump of olfactory death.

Or better yet, I'd jump forward by about 100 years, when I'm pretty sure that everyone that was with me on that lift would be good and dead and any trace of the smell from that lift would be long gone (or at least so faint that you'd only really smell it if you found the lift, buried your face deep into the fabric covering the floor and took a deep sniff).

But two years? That thing would still be lingering in the lobby of the building, looking for someone else to disgust.

Sure, Doc Brown only sent Einstein ahead in time by one minute, but that was just a test. Plus, it was a dog. And the dog didn't even realise what had happened. And then Marty McFly and Doc Brown were all like 'Hey, we need to go back in time and then forward in time and then back again' and generally all over the joint in those three films. Sometimes they were even in the same place and time as their earlier selves who didn't even know they were there. Which is, like, WHOA. And we don't even know how many times the dudes jumped when the cameras weren't rolling. Plus they rebuilt the stupid DeLorean as an awesome train. Now that is time travel.

Jesus, even Bill and Ted went all over the place. And picked up passengers. And their time machine was held together with freaking chewing gum. And they were idiots. I mean come ON.

And what about Bruce Willis? Dude wasn't even in charge of his time travel and he moved around way more, hell he even managed to get shot in one time, have his picture taken there and then have the bullet removed in another time and made damned sure his hot girlfriend totally saw the awesome photograph form World War I. Yes, yes, he totally screwed the whole "stop the plague" thing from happening because he got all caught up in a monkey thing, but who wouldn't, am I right? It was MONKEYS. And he was pretty shook up. From the time travel. Totally forgivable.

Anyway, not impressed, 2012 time travelling film-making dudes. Not impressed.

But at least we can all learn something: if you're thinking about jumping around in time, try jumping at least 30 years, so the clothes will have changed. Because I'm guessing Uggs are still going to be around in 2012. And I fucking hate Uggs.

Must-see? No. Just wait two years and you'll find out what happens anyway.
Shatner Scale:
Off the charts. We're talking unauthorised Shatner biography here.