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[NOTE: This series attempts to explain some of the more inexplicable aspects of the movie Prometheus. Today: The mysterious cave paintings. Warning: Spoilers, sort of.]

WHAT DIDN’T MAKE SENSE:

So, at this point I think everybody agrees this movie was so dumb. Most dumb, probably. Well, everyone except Roger Ebert, who gave it four stars and called it “a magnificent science fiction film.” Keep in mind, though, that Ebert also gave four stars to Nic Cage’s Knowing and called it, “among the best science fiction films I’ve seen.” YOU’RE IN GOOD COMPANY, PROMETHEUS. 

For those keeping track at home, here’s the list of people who liked Prometheus: Roger Ebert and the guy at a house party Saturday night sitting by himself next to the keg who repeatedly told me I, “just didn’t get it.” NICE. ARGUMENT DONE, BRO. I CEDE THE REMAINDER OF MY TIME TO PABST BLUE RIBBON.         

Anywho, pretty much nothing in this movie made sense, but that shouldn’t stop us from trying to make sense of it. Let’s start today with a big one: The cave painting star maps. At the very beginning of Prometheus we are introduced to Lambda Chi Alpha’s SICKEST archeologist, who finds a pictogram that shows a big tall alien pointing at some stars. He’s like, “It’s a map, bro,” but his slam-piece is like, “No, it’s an invitation,” and he’s like, “OK, fine, we can go but we’re not missing two for one Jack and coke night at Cabo Cantina. Now where’s that goddamn robot pledge with my vodka Redbull?”       

ALTERNATE THEORY THAT MAKES MORE SENSE:

But why? Why is it an invitation? You have no reason to think that. Here's a thought: Maybe these guys were saying, “Hey, primitive Earth people. It’s us again, porcelain dudes, just stopping by. So, we know you guys don’t have Australia yet--but when you do--this place? Totally Space Australia. It’s barren and miserable, and there’s a TON of weird snakes and space shit you can’t find anywhere else that wants to kill you for no reason. So we sent all our criminals and rejects there and they’re all huge assholes with gross purple tans. Oh man, these guys: if you ever go there you’ll probably find them wearing these ugly ass Space Jockey suits, and you’ll try and figure out what purpose the suits serve but the answer is nothing—it’s our version of the tank top. Also, if you do go there, any Space Australians you find will probably be in hypersleep, sleeping off a massive Space Fosters bender, and if you wake them up they’ll definitely punch you or Guy Pearce or whoever in the face as hard as they can. Seriously, write this down on a wall or something to make sure you remember. It absolutely sucks, don’t go there.”

Man, fuck Australia.

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