Here’s a trailer for the stupid follow to the stupid movie, Jurassic World. It is equal parts, lame, banal, and forced, but at least it has Jeff Goldblum.
‘Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom’ poster appeals to your nostalgia because the last movie was garbage
Fuck this poster and fuck Jurassic World.
Can Jeff Goldblum has joined the second Jurassic World flick. Can he save the shit-tastic movie’s sequel? We will see.
Obvious news is obvious. But, uh, here, enjoy it, those of you silly enough to like Jurassic World. Seriously though, who knows, maybe the sequel will be better. Jurassic World was in development hell forever, and one can hope that’s what led to such a horrid, mutant script.
Why have one Jurassic World movie when you can have three?! Especially when the first pile of dinosaur turd made $4 trillion dollars?
I guess I didn’t even realize that Steven Spielberg’s Dreamworks was aligned with Disney. But I suppose this revelation is a tad late, since it’s only been brought to my attention to inform me that this partnership was ending. Alas.
I guess it makes sense in some sort of financial way. Get the director behind this year’s biggest hit (Jurassic World) to direct a Star Wars movie. Unfortunately, that same movie is a bag of bloated CGI bullshit, that fails for most of the same reasons that the Prequels fail. Here’s hoping if he’s chosen, Colin Trevorrow brings more of the heart from Safety Not Guaranteed and less of the Hamster Ball Vomit Pile from Jurassic World to the final movie in the new trilogy.
Oh fuck! It’s been a hell of a day, and that’s why I’m late opening the bar. (Why was it late, Ian?) I’m glad you asked! I’ll tell you! SAM-OMEGA and myself went to see a house today, as we are (were?) hunting for a new abode. And what began as a viewing snowballed into a four-hour extravaganza that ended in us having an offer accepted! So fuck! I’m on my way to thirty years of Debt Slave toiling. And I’m excited about it! But even if the grind gets too much (SEGUE!!!) from Monday through Friday, I’ll always have the Weekend Open Bar.
This is my third week of marriage. It feels very much the similar to the life I was living prior to marriage – namely a maelstrom of responsibilities and too few nights spent actually enjoying the company of my Wife. We spent the weekend house shopping, and now she’s away on business. When…when does life calm down? And in the midst of all that bullshit — we are submitting an offer sheet on a house tomorrow. So there’s that. Either we get a house tomorrow, or we have to hit the house hunting grind again this weekend. Which, admittedly, is a privilege. I get that. But it’s stressful as fuck, and at a certain point having more space for shit you probably doesn’t need must feel irrelevant in the Frowning Face of Not Enjoying Time with a loved one. Right?
Well, the nostalgia-fueled mediocre monstrosity juggernaut seems intent on smashing records. And preventing me from seeing it. Am I still bitter about you nostalgic dorks cluttering the theaters, preventing me from seeing it? Yup! Stop going! It isn’t that good! Cause, I need to go!