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Charlie Hatton
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Howdy, friendly reading person!
I'm on a bit of a hiatus right now, but only to work on other projects -- one incredibly exciting example being the newly-released kids' science book series Things That Make You Go Yuck!
If you're a science and/or silliness fan, give it a gander! See you soon!

Dude, Keanu’s Like, Six Stories Tall! Kewl!

Hey, all — sorry for a short post tonight, but I’ve had a busy day. Golf this morning, then back just in time for the Red Sox game (which they lost, dammit, to Roger and the damned Yankees), and then hanging out with some friends watching sports, drinking beer, and eating. The last folks left our house just a little while ago.

And just to warn you — unfortunately (for blogging purposes), something similar may this way come tomorrow. The current plan includes three softball games, then dinner and debauchery before and during the next Red Sox game. I may have a few minutes here and there to say hello, but the pickin’s may be a little thin for the next day or so. Don’t hate me because I’m busy. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. In the meantime, go trawl around the archives for shit you haven’t read, or have forgotten about. That shit is ‘comedy bronze’, I tell you — comedy bronze.

For now, I’d just like to mention what I did last night. For you see, last night, I (finally) saw the Matrix: Reloaded movie. And I dug it. A lot. Charlie saw the film, and he saw that the film was good. Praise Hollywood.

(Yes, I realize that I’m getting into the game a bit tardily here. And while that’s better than getting into the game ‘turdily’, it still isn’t good.

See, I live much of my life a few months — or more — behind. I don’t see many movies in their first run, and generally don’t get caught up in the hype of every new show, movie, game, pop icon, or porn star that comes along. Most of the time, this is a pretty good thing, since said ‘new sensation’ turns out to be pablum, or drivel. Or both. ‘Pablel’. Or ‘drivum’. Whatever.

But once in a while, something comes along that’s worth the effort, and it takes me a bit longer to jump on the bandwagon and get my ass in gear to check it out. This even happens when my antennae are um, pricked up, so to speak. Ahem.

Seriously, even when I’m expecting and anticipating some new thing or other, I still often miss the boat. I got into the original Matrix late, for instance, but I really liked it. I’m a big science fiction fan, and it was right up my alley. I’ve watched it several times since on movie channels, and have even become a Propellerheads fan because of the ‘lobby scene’ music they contributed to the soundtrack. Really, I’m a fan. Scout’s honor.

But I still waited months and months to bother seeing ‘Reloaded‘. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I’m too busy. (Yeah, right.) Maybe I’ve got better things to do. (If you count picking lint from my navel as ‘better’.) Maybe I just forget, or don’t care enough, or I’m just a moron.

(Houston, I think we’re getting warmer…)

In any case, I saw the damned movie six months after everyone else, okay? So don’t fret — I’m not going to bother you with a plot synopsis or a review of the thing. I just saw it, that’s all. Don’t be so cynical, all right? That’s my job.)

So, the cool thing is that I saw the movie at our local handy-dandy IMAX theater. And for my money, the only way to see an action flick like this one is on IMAX. Or ‘in IMAX’, or ‘at IMAX’, or whatever. I don’t know what the damned acronym stands for, so I don’t know which is appropriate. Wherefore art thou, ‘Conjunction Junction’? Or ‘Prepositionary Missionary’, or whichever gimmicky part-of-speech ditty I’m supposed to call upon in this situation.

(Yeah, I wasn’t an English major, all right? Give me a freakin’ break here.)

Anyway, IMAX is the way to go. After all, you can’t spell ‘THE MATRIX’ without ‘IMAX’, right?

(Well, that and ‘RHETT’, I suppose, but we didn’t have anyone named ‘Rhett’ with us last night. So maybe we didn’t get the full experience, after all. Perhaps we should have planned ahead. Eh.)

But IMAX Matrix was cool, man. Everything was magnified a hundred-fold and thrust at us on a towering screen. We saw it all — the pounding music, the action, the explosions, the fights… the remnants of every pimple Lawrence Fishburne has ever had — it was all there, fifty feet tall and loud as fuck.Not for the faint of heart, perhaps, but I reveled in it. The freeway scenes alone were worth the price of admission, plus popcorn and a drink. What a bargain!

But like I promised, I won’t burden you with a slew of details. If you care about seeing this movie, then you’ll have seen it by now, and probably months ago. If not — well, you’re probably fed up with this post already, and thinking about what to do next.

(Once again, I respectfully suggest browsing the archives — c’mon, you know you want to.)

As a matter of fact, I think I’ll let all of you nice readers off the hook now, and hit the sack myself.

(Thereby ending this post, of course. Contrary to popular theory, I don’t write this shit in my sleep, half-witted stream-of-consciousness style. Really, that hurts, people. Have a heart.)

But I hope to be here tomorrow for another installment. And maybe I’ll think of something to do on Monday to make it up to you. Something creative and pointless and unnecessarily complex, of course, in keeping with the rest of the shit around here. No, really, it’ll be fun. Oh, do stop by, won’t you?

For now, though, I need my beauty sleep. (To the tune of a couple of years’ worth, if I was really using it to become ‘pretty’, but that’s another matter.) Seriously, I need my shuteye. Those softball games of mine start at ten am tomorrow, and those errors at third base aren’t just going to commit themselves, you know. I’ve got to be there, and so I’ll bid you adieu. We’ll continue this discussion — or, more likely, two or three other discussions, just as rambling and incoherent as this one — tomorrow. G’night!

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  09/06/04: Connection

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