Hey, hey! Now that I'm all about cookie destruction (thank you, DeAnn) and robbing little cookies of their parents and bloodlines, I can post to my blog more often and say just as little. Like, Saturday afternoon I basked in the fecality that was Alien Vs. Predator, which wasn't even half as fun as Freddy Vs. Jason but somehow made a lot more sense even while being completely incomprehensible. So the alien and the Predator are ancient adversaries, with the latter species enslaving humans to be hosts for the enemy spawn during their hunting seasons? "Huhsaywha?" I begged of my popcorn. My popcorn, much like Phil Collins, had no reply at all. I wept over the misuse of the great Lance Henriksen, wearily collecting a paycheck over arcing spigots of fanboy spooge: "He's the link to the Alien franchise, goahdbsndshfhblllxxxeee!" His appearance was the half-assed, dog-eared Good Housekeeping Seal of Geek-Chic Approval affixed to a cinematic blunder doomed to blow. I know the battle has its roots in a comic-book series and a video game beloved by those peers I chose to avoid eye contact with at the 7-Eleven, but it still remains a stupid, ridiculous pairing of two franchises that overstayed their welcome more than a decade ago; Predator was pushing it at Predator 2, with its Rastafalien cutting down L.A. gangsta stereotypes ("Noooo stoppin' what can't be stopped; nooooo killin' what can't be killed"; it was more menacing as a sound bite on an Ice Cube album than it was with visual effects and a storyline) and turning Danny Glover into a whore. "Whoever wins, we lose." Nooooo shit.

I also saw the trailer for Papparazzi, producer Mel Gibson's wet fantasy of an action star murdering dirtbag photographers, starring Cole Hauser in the Mel Gibson role. Cole Hauser, son of Wings, struck career paydirt as treacherous slime (from Higher Learning through Pitch Black to 2 Fast 2 Furious), so it'll be nice to see him branch out and be on the other side of the fist. Sadly, to me, Cole Hauser will always be Dazed And Confused's Benny, chasing Mitch Kramer in his pickup and trying to keep his beer down. In any case, the whole thing looks fuckin' disturbing as hell, a Death Wish for Generation Z.

This weekend I observed that cats are way cuter than dogs when you wake them up for no reason. Cats regard you with their eyes mooshed shut like, "Dude, what the fuck? Seriously, this'd better involve some treats, or it's your ass," whereas a dog explodes into action: "YESIMHEREHELLO!"