Reviewing Godzilla Without Having Seen It

The appeal of Godzilla has always eluded me. Even as a kid, I realized it was campy dogshit with horrid special effects. And I’ve never been one to enjoy something I was aware was of a poor quality: If you’re getting a toothy blowjob, you don’t think to yourself, “Wow, she is hilariously horrible at this! Awesome!” No, you make an excuse to get the Hell out of there and hope you don’t draw back a stump that resembles the Kitner boy after Jaws was done with him.

So I can’t say I much give a shit to see Godzilla, even if countless nerds are jacking it to this new flick because it, according to so many of them, rights the “wrongs” of the 1998 version starring Ferris Bueller. I guess the prevailing logic is that the ’98 film’s giant, walking lizard looked gaytarded and this new walking, giant lizard is really cool. Given I was up half the night playing with Skylanders, I suppose my condemnation of this nerdiness is quite glass houses, but, as the women who aren’t sleeping with you will assuredly attest to, these flicks are all the same crap. Stop acting like they dug up Stanley Kubrick to direct this thing.

Oh, and have some national pride. Your grandfather didn’t get punji sticks rammed through his scrotum while taking Okinawa so you could stroke your chubby little nerd choad to the monster movies of the enemy. Instead, enjoy Pacific Rim on HBO Go. It’s free and won’t spit in the face of the boys who died to keep the stars and bars flying over Hawaii, you Honda-driving, Tojo-loving piece of trash. Didn’t you learn anything from Bugs Bunny?

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Tagged as: Movie Review.