A piece by any other name...

So, the Doom trailer is out. How the cretins think they could make a movie out of a successful video game like Doom, and still involve The Rock, some random M-16's, and other shitty surgeoned bits and pieces of the original Doom storyline, is beyond me. Maybe if the fuckers actually bothered to play the games, they'd have an idea that after Doom III, there is no fucking need to make a movie. You can't top the media experience of actually being in the goddamned action. Unless you're selling to a pack of vegetables, who are unable to sit down at a computer and boot up the game to play for themselves.

You guys, the movie watchers, do me a favour. Boycott the Doom movie. Boycott it until it's released onto DVD. Then we'll go buy a stack of them, throw them in the microwave until they pop like fireworks, and then fire the charred corpses back at their makers via a large and unwieldy catapult. And then we'll all go home and play the real Doom, and let Hollywood ponder the deep messages we left them in amongst the blackened remains of their bastard brainprojects.

Unless, of course, the idea department of Hollywood happens to be a cult of demonic spirits that were teleported from a rift on Mars into the very nervous centre of North America, and there, they thrived on the inane and vapid ambitions of Hollywood. Thus becoming as much a part of it's corruption, as it became a part of theirs.

Muhahaha.

Oh, and the oil and tranmission fluid in my car got changed today. There are few things as rank smelling as used transmission fluid. Oh well, small price to pay to keep my stone age wagon up and running.

G'damn, I'm tired. Work, so long. Sleep, so short. And I daydream way too much.