I don’t bungee jump, skydive or surf with sharks. Hell, I consider watching lightening from the patio an extreme sport. The point is, I’m a chicken and I know it. I intend to feel very bad about that when I’m the last one alive on the planet because the rest of you perished boxing bears or racing cars over volcanoes or whatever the next insane fad is that comes along. I realize that I’m missing out on a lot and I’ll probably die in some really boring fashion, like in my own bed when I’m 90, but I guess I’ll just have to live with that. Live being the key word.

I think we’ve established my chickenhood so what could be so marvelously ludicrously fantabulastic that I would venture into what I like to think of as God’s Fly Paper, a movie theatre? What would make me brave the filth, the unimaginable smells, and the indefinable mystery scum that holds you in its grip like quick sand? Sweet Serenity.

If you don’t know what Serenity is then I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you out of your misery old yeller style. To NOT have seen Firefly and thus lust in a most unhealthy way after its movie sequel Serenity is tragic in the most heart breaking way and no one should have to live with that kind of suffering.

So, if you always wanted to meet me to praise/condemn/spit on/propose to me you can find me at the local theatre this Friday about 6ish. If you enjoy science fiction, comedy, dramas or westerns I highly recommend you go see the movie. If you don’t you’ll miss out on possibly the best movie of all time AND baby chickens the world over will spontaneously combust and litter the world with chicken nuggets. Do you want that on your conscience? I didn’t think so.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 27th, 2005 at 5:45 pm and is filed under General Stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.