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June 17, 2008


dont see the new indiana jones movie unless you are prepared to see two hours of shameless substance-lacking commercialization of an iconic legend as a marketing vehicle for lunch-boxes, t-shirts, video games and amusement park rides.  the indy i once knew is dead, and i am pissed that speilburg resurrected his corpse, tyed some string to its inanimate limbs, and made it dance around in some unabashedly brazen and gratuitous spectacle of a puppet show.
i am pissed off indy, and you can't just hide behind that hat and smirk you muther f__ker.  now instead of spending forever in that wonderful place in my inmagination where every day is an adventure, you are relegated to an eternity as the indiana jones log plume, diluting the puke and sweat of all those who pass through your little part of hell.