Thought and effort have completely died.

I know this because I watched a movie. What was the movie? King Arthur. I'm bored. It's been a thin year for movie rentals. And I'm scraping wood off the bottom of the barrel to turn this one up.

The last "Oh my god, that's genuinely great film!" I saw was "In America". Everything since has been mediocre to fucking pig slop. And by fucking pig slop, I mean the slop produced by pigs fucking.

But, then I had the privelege of watching the brain-numbingly bad King Arthur. Now, I could be a bit off, but it never struck me you could fuck the Arthurian legends up. Hah! Double-hah.

The easiest way, as I discovered, was to simply forget them. The closest comparison I can find is "The Running Man". If you ever read the Bachman book, you know it was a cute little treat of a brave new world turned terribly dumb. If you ever watched the movie, it was probably the first time you suspected that Arnold Schwarzennegger (sp?!) was as queer as a man with a fiddle at a Destiny's Child concert (the queerness being the inclination toward actual music).

King Arthur was that sort of "So . . . let's use the title and gut everything else" script.

For one, my brain ratcheted right away. Movies that open with narrators are usually shit. Especially if the narrator speaks for more than three minutes.

Also, the movie pretty clearly tries to rip-off Braveheart. It starts out with the heroes as kids. Which was cool in Braveheart . . . because . . . well . . . because Braveheart wasn't done by Jerry Bruck-hymen, who might as well have takn a piss on the graves at Pearl Harb . . . oh, wait. He did do that.

By the 58th utterance of the word freedom, King Arthur devolves into a pretty piss-poorly targeted film. Why? Becuase it also posits itself as fairly anti-Christian, with jokes mocking the validity of prayer.

Now, I'm not keen on religion, but I've known folks that it was the only board they had to cling to in the whole ocean. If it keeps you afloat, then go do it.

And somehow, I doubt the anti-Jesus, pro-freedom demographics meet on any Venn diagrams ever made.

So, freedom. Freedom. Kill a few people. Utter the fucking word freedom again. Come to think of it, the freedom speech was the gayest part of Braveheart.

Lazy ass pandering fucks. You can't sell a movie in the South with the word freedom in it. Banjoes work better. I know. I saw "A Mighty Wind" while in Virginia, and the place was packed like a girl's school showing of Titanic 2: Jack and Fat Girl Float to Unicorn Heaven.

Oh, well. I watched Braveheart in a dollar theatre, so I'm bound to think well of it. Plus, it at least had a McGuffen and a few decent light moments. Plus, Mel Gibson was clearly already thinking of that Jesus flick he later did. Blood and blood and blood.

But, what's really lame in King Arthur is that no one goes downduring the battles. It's like fucking kids playing cowboys and Indians. Bang-bang. I got you! No you didn't! Until the battle ends, it's kind of like watching the old GI Joe cartoons!

And the dialogue is atrocious. Mostly it involves uttering the word freedom.

Also, I'm not a titty boy, but Keira Knightley (sp? like I give a fuck) is the most titless woman to ever amble about on this earth. She looks like a fucking Far Eastern eunuch, not a fucking woman. I suspect that Michael Jackson is deeply jealous.

Come to think of it, there's another thing Braveheart did that kicked a dsitch where King Arthur's face used to be. Sophie Marceau has tits. Not obnoxiously huge tits. But tits that are reporting for duty. The kind of tits you could nuzzle for hours well after getting your rocket off. And she had a trunk. Trunk space on a celebrity uterus donor is important. I want kids that look like they're standing on Wilt Chamberlain's head. Narrow hips aren't gonna do that.

I don't find huge jugs attractive. However, I like some evidence that the offsprings that my stalking-rape-eventual-marriage of any celebrity may produce will at least be able to breast feed twice a day. Goddamned kid can't live on Similac and Gerber! I don't want my rape-produced celebrity bastards to come out all tiny and gnarled and gimpy.

How will they get their freedom? Not all mangled and pussy-like because their mother's tits were deficient to the point of potential maleness.

King Arthur . . . that movie sucked. And Keira Knightley should be court-ordered to get some hormone therapy. Girls need role-models. Female role-models can't be role-models without decent tits. And a big trunks.

And freedom.