Hoo boy, now there’s a job. A couple of jobs really. The helicopter pilot is aces, of course. Dude just hangs there. The men climbing on the high tension wires are built of different stuff than the rest of us, too. I’ll bet they get paid, man. Not as much as a Ruby on Rails developer, but pretty good, surely.
Ever since I was a little boy, I’ve always dreamed of being an attack helicopter. Although my aspirations have both disappointed and confused my parents, I think that they’ll accept me in the end. Even though they’ve repeatedly told me that it’s physically impossible for a human to morph into an attack helicopter, I fail to see how that is a problem. After I mount a 30mm cannon to my body, who’s to say what’s impossible?
Still better than the CGI George Lucas raped the first three Star Wars movies with. Personally, I prefer to use bad CGI in a movie whenever possible. It adds an extra layer of entertainment to the giant pile of fetid frosting that is a modern movie. It’s my humble opinion that bad movies are much better than good ones. A good movie can get old. The way it’s filmed might seem outdated in a few years, the colors look all wrong after a few decades, and any video effects look cheesy within the year. If you make a movie that is so terrible you can’t look away, it will live on forever.
It’s not that I don’t know where Uzbekistan is. It’s just that I don’t care where Uzbekistan is. It’s over there near Trashcanistan and Beheadistan and Gasflareistan somewhere. Honestly, who gives a crap?
But even though I don’t know what’s going on, and for all I know the unintelligible lyrics in the soundtrack are about microwaving kittens or drinking latex paint or throwing puppies into volcanoes or something, I do know I’m up for a trip to wherever that is. Sign me up. Let’s go. Time’s wastin’. I’m packing right now.