March of the Morons

A few months ago, during the stress of making The Big Freaking Movie, I allowed myself a day to rant. I let loose with my feelings about things I don't like, as opposed to trying to focus on the positive. Not surprisingly, some people took issue with this choice. In the end I'm glad I did it. Writing those things really helped me purge my Vitriolic Ballast Tanks. Heck, most of those things don't even really bother me any longer.

Save one: Ain't It Cool News Talkbackers.

Lord, how I loathe those people.

Now normally I have no problem with little no-talent punks flinging handfuls of their own excrement on other people's work. The freedom to make an utter and complete ass of oneself is part of what makes this country great. But the AICN Talkbackers rub me the wrong way because I genuinely believe that the idiots who work with the studios on the Left Coast actually listen to them.

See, Hollywood is a town run by willfully-prepubescent fashion divas who are one wrinkle line away from being chucked to the curb in favor of the next pair of taught and perky ones. It is not a town run either by logic or creativity. It is a town run by catering-to-the-lowest-common-denominator and damp-pools-under-the-armpits fear. It is not a magical or a happy place. Working in that city is about as much fun as an Asian massage parlor where the "Happy Ending" is a brutal stab in the nutsack with a rusty ice pick.

All in all, I'm not overly fond of Hollywood.

Now it's not the swill that is generated by the city that bugs me. Sturgeon's Law dictates that ninety percent of everything is crap, so I'm not going to hold the half-caf-decaf-drinking, power-lunch set accountable for that. What I do hold them responsible for, however, is how they conduct their business. Put simply, the town is run by copy-cat idiots who wouldn't know a good idea if it came up and bit off their fake noses.

Think I'm kidding? Well, check out this Wired article from 2003. Writer Ben Mezrich watched how the industry conducted it's "business" using an exclusive, pay-to-play message board to decide the fate of scripts. Agents would generate buzz about this title or that, all without having bothered to actually, you know, read the scripts themselves.

No, I'm not making that up.

Seriously, go read the article. It's an eye-opener.

Now, consider that the utterly assinine method described above is how scripts get purchased in that town. Neither logic nor common sense comes into play at all. This is a town that runs entirely on gossip and the perception of reality. That's it.

Now, let's come back to our AICN Talkbackers. These are the mouthy little bastards who have the audacity to call Angelina Jolie "fat", and whose only contribution to the human condition is a feeble mastery of the "f"-word. These people are idiots. They're loud, brash, obnoxious, morons, and thus easy dismiss.

To most of the world, that is. But to Hollywood...

Now...think about the mental backwashes from the Wired article reading this Superman Returns reaction thread on AICN.

The thought of it actually sends a chill down my spine.

Of course, if I was to be completely honest about all of this I'd admit that I should be angry at the idiots in the land of liposuction and lip-enhancements, and not the fanboys on AICN. But, honestly, even without their words possibly carrying any weight with the Hazelwood-like Hollwood helmers, I just freaking loathe what these little pukes have to say.

So, here's an idea: We hold the first national Ain't It Cool News Talkbacker's Film Festival. Only frequent Talkbackers may compete. They have to write, produce, direct, cast, and shoot a five minute short, and then display it in a competition against other Talkbackers' work. And then, when the films are shown, everyone in the audience can open up a can of heartfelt vitriol on each and every frame of their work.

Yeah. That would be fun.

Wait...strike that idea. Because somehow, someway, one of those knuckle-walkers from the Wired article would show up, and before you know it we'd all be watching Project Asshole: The Talkbacker's Film Festival Reality Show on Bravo. Withink weeks James Lipton would end up talking earnestly with a bunch of spastic Bawls-drinkers as they slouch in their seats and answer his questions with nuggets of wisdom like "Whoa, the chick in the front row is kinda hot...", "I rawk!", and, of course, "Dude, yer such a choad..." And then, after enduring that, I'd just have to call in a Nuclear Strike, and that would leave many, many people quite put out.

Yeah. I think I'll just stay with hating AICN Talkbackers. It's just the easiest solution to an ugly, ugly problem.