This entry was originally written last week during the Cinevegas Film Festival and, for me anyways, represents the last lost blog entry…
Dear Clark Kent,
Oh, I get it. You’re too busy to answer a simple letter. You have to send one of your mall “Supermen” in your place to answer me, like a lazy Santa Claus. That’s fine. I see how important this friendship is to you. I’m alone in the dark, like Uwe Boll and Christian Slater.
But I do have a question for you Clark. I told you I was coming to Vegas right? I mean, you did know that, didn’t you? I was sitting down in a theater the other day here at Cinevegas, when an important looking chap with a headset on (like Madonna) walked in and shouted, “Uh, folks! Just so you know, there will be no flash photography of any kind before, during or after the screening. If you take a picture, you will be thrown out.”
Then, after that odd message to which no one had any idea what he was talking about, 4 other dudes with suits came waltzing in the joint. I was curious as to what was going on, when there you came, in your full glory. You (played by Brandon Routh) walked in there like you owned the joint. Did you know that Angel (Ben Foster) was also in attendance?
The new Superman, in my theater, watching a block of shorts (which included the premiere of Pardon My Downfall by the Zellner Bros.).
I gave you a wave but you ignored my smiles. I hate you Superman. I hate your stupid costume, your dumb girlfriend, your idiotic hair style with that dumb curl, your stupid spectacles and your stupid town.
But do you know what I hate even more Clark? I hate the new cardboard display advertising Superman Returns. What the hell is this?
Good god. That’s just awful Clark. Awful. I want to meet the guy who approved this terrible image. Does Warner Bros. actually think this will pull people into the seats?
So I guess that’s it. You were in Vegas and you were too good to let me know. I hope it feels good.
Word to your mother,