Daily Archives: March 24, 2016

Batman vs. Superman!

Hey 3.5 readers.

It’s here.  It’s finally here.  The fight we’ve all been waiting for.  The Dark Knight vs. The Man of Steel.

Who will win?  No really, who do you think will win?

(As you can see, there is a “bookshelf battle” in the header of this fine blog in honor of this film.  Batman can take a punch like a champ.)

You have to root for Batman, right?  He’s the undercard in this bout.  Superman is an immortal quasi-God figure whereas Batman is a guy with good training and a lot of money. (An endless supply of money being the closest thing to a super power in reality).

I can’t wait to see it this weekend.  It will mark the beginning of DC’s attempt to recreate Marvel’s success with its Avengers movies.

Here’s a thought.  This is a big, summer blockbuster style movie and here it is, out so early…in March.

What does that mean for the future of movies?

Here’s what I think as a movie nerd.  Movie theaters are facing increasing competition from the Internet.  With the economy being down and ticket/popcorn prices high, a lot of people just decide to stay home and watch Netflix.

I can see that movie theaters are constantly coming up with new ways to get butts in seats. 3-D is one.  I’m seeing more theaters build stadium seating and put in extra comfy reclining chairs.  Beer and alcohol (watch Batman drunk!) and so on.

These big movies coming out earlier and earlier is just another way for movie theaters to stay competitive.  After all, if you love Batman and Superman, you’ll make the trip to see them on the big screen, right?

So this seems like a good thing.  Big movies earlier in the year because there just isn’t enough time to fit them all in during the summer.

Have you ever gone to the movies in January and wondered, “Holy Shit.  January movies are godawful.  This must be the time of year they release all the films that got the green light because someone had incriminating photos of a movie producer in a compromising position.”

I always wonder that.  Further, I always wonder, why can’t every movie be awesome?  Of course, I realize awesome is in the eye of the beholder.  What I find awesome and another finds awesome are two different things.  There’s enough room in the entertainment world for everyone.

Long story short, I think it will mean that eventually…bad ass movies will be shown in January.

Batman or Superman – who do you pick? Leave your pick in the comments.

SPOILERS – Batman is Bruce Wayne and he became a vigilante to cope with seeing his parents gunned down outside a theater as a child.  Also, Superman is really Clark Kent of the Metropolis Daily Planet.  His space pod crashed on a farm when he was a kid and a nice farm couple took him in and raised him.

That was a joke.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 65

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“Simmer down, Martin.”

Inside the church, Blake ignored Gunther and rested his hands on his big brass belt buckle.  “You two shit heels knew this was coming and you didn’t warn anyone.”

“No one knew anything,” Gunther said.

“Oh, I see,” Blake said.  “Go on, old man.  Keep telling me I didn’t hear what I just heard and act like I’m stupid.”

“It wouldn’t be much of an act,” Gunther replied.  He pointed out the broken window.  More and more of the undead were congregating in the road, bumping into one another, searching for flesh to devour.

“Do you really think there was any way that either of us could have predicted THAT?” Gunther asked.

“Doesn’t matter,”  Blake said.  “You two knew something bad was coming…”

“We were told by the government that it was bullshit,” Gunther interrupted.

Blake poked a finger into Gunther’s chest.  In his youth, Gunther would have laid Blake out on the floor for doing that, but the old man took it.

“You knew the government was full of shit,”  Blake said.

“What does it matter now?”  Gunther asked.  “You want to blame us?”

“Yeah I do!”  Blake shouted.

“That makes you feel like a big man?”  Gunther asked.

“Yeah it does!”  Blake replied. 

Slade heard some strange noises coming from outside.  He looked through the broken window only to be amazed by the sight of a large wolf man barreling through the undead, flinging them out of his way as if they were rag dolls.

And behind him?

“Bonnie,” Slade said.

Gunther and Blake were too busy exchanging unpleasantries to notice.

“Son, if it makes you think you got a big swinging dick to point out other people’s mistakes then go right ahead,” the old man said.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Blake said. 

“Just finish up quick because we all need you to get the fuck over yourself, man the fuck up, and stop running your mouth,” Gunther said.

“Don’t turn this around on me, Grandpa,” Blake said.  “You two idiots have killed us all.”

“We all look pretty damn alive to me,” Gunther said.  “Maybe if you shut up and stop being a jackass we’ll get out of this alive.”

“I’m the jackass?”  Blake said.

“Yeah you are,”  Gunther said.

A fist pounded on the door.  Slade heard Miss Bonnie’s muffled voice coming from outside.

“Rain!”

“You had no right to keep this shit to yourself,” Blake said.

“Oh and you’re just so perfect, aren’t you?”  Gunther asked.  “You just know everything, don’t you?”

Blake thumped a fist on his chest.  “I do!”

Slade fished through the drunken reverend’s pockets and found an iron key.  He shoved it into the lock.

Bonnie pounded on the door again.

“Rain open up the door and get the hell out of the way!”

Blake and Gunther were oblivious.

“You really think you could have done any better than we did?”  Gunther asked.

“Yeah I do!”  Blake hollered.  “I’m not some dumb son of a bitch who can’t tell when danger is headed right at him!”

Slade turned the key and opened the door.  Miss Bonnie fired her shot. 

Now noble reader, perhaps you’ve heard of Sir Isaac Newton’s First Law of Motion.  In case you haven’t, it goes like this:

An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. 

Miss Bonnie had fired true and a silver tipped bullet was lodged in Becker’s brain.  In the last few moments of his life, the beast, or rather, the object, kept running anyway.

Slade acted quickly enough to grab Miss Bonnie and pull her out of the way.  Even old, worn out Gunther looked up in time to dive out out of the aisle.

Blake, on the other hand, an unbalanced force if there ever was one, was slammed by an oncoming furry freight train, only to have each and every one of his bones crack under Becker’s gargantuan weight.

Doc, who had been resting in a pew at the front of the church, stood and walked over to survey the damage.  He wasn’t feeling very steady on his feet, so he leaned on Annabelle.

The only part of Blake that remained visible was his head.  The rest was pinned underneath the hairy corpse.

To Doc’s surprise, Blake was gasping for breath.

The physician’s nausea was getting worse.  He coughed as he leaned down and pulled a bottle of his Miracle Cure-All out of his pocket.

“Take this,” Doc said as he poured a few drops into Blake’s open mouth. 

“Will he make it?”  Annabelle asked.

“Doubtful,”  Doc replied.  “I fear even the mighty power of cocaine mixed with spider eggs for texture will not be enough to save him.”

Slade and Miss Bonnie, the Good Reverend, and Gunther all gathered around.  Even Sarah timidly walked over.

Blake’s face turned purple.  “Tell…” 

“Hush my good man,”  Doc said.  “Conserve your strength.”

“Tell Gunth…”

Gunther knelt down and brushed his wrinkled hand over Blake’s hair.

“It’s ok, son,”  Gunther said.  “No need to tell me you’re sorry.  You’re…”

The old man wasn’t big on emotion, nor was he even sure he believed what he was about to say, but under the circumstances, he felt it was appropriate.

“You’re my friend and I love you,”  Gunther said.

Blake’s eyes looked toward Doc.  “Tell Gunther…to go…fuck himself.”

And with that, the victim drew his last breath and his eyes rolled back into his head.

The group of survivors remained quiet for a few moments until Doc broke the silence.

“Deputy,” Doc said.  “This man wished for me to tell you…”

“I know!”  Gunther said as he stood up.

“Well, it was his last wish,” Doc said as Annabelle helped him up to his feet.

Speaking of feet, a pair of two very large ones entered the church and creaked across the floor boards.  Slade turned around to see another werewolf.

This one wasn’t acting very dangerous.  He was nonchalantly walking in on two feet, carrying another Winchester, and a shotgun, and a bag of ammo in his paws.

Instinctively, Slade yanked the rifle out of Miss Bonnie’s hands and took aim.

The redhead jumped in front of the werewolf and put her hands up.

“Don’t shoot!  He’s really just a nice little negro boy!”

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 64

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Miles gave up the struggle to hold up the oversized pants he borrowed and ran right out of them, letting them fall to the ground behind him.

The church was up ahead. Some candles had been lit and Miss Bonnie could barely make out the outlines of Slade, Gunther and Blake through the broken window.

Miss Bonnie didn’t dare look back. She could hear Becker’s paws smashing the ground as he gained speed. Part of her wanted to make a stand but she knew she’d be slashed to pieces before she got a shot off.

“Change!” Miss Bonnie yelled to Miles.

“No!” Miles said.

Miss Bonnie grabbed the Winchesters out from under the boys arm. “You have to!”

A swarm of undead trudged around outside the church. Instantly, Miles figured out what Miss Bonnie had already surmised. He needed to either fight, or let his new friend become food for the undead, or allow her to be kidnapped by Becker.

The boy dove and morphed into wolf form before his paws hit the ground. He was still young and innocent enough to feel an innate desire to avoid hurting anyone…or anything. His stomach churned as he stampeded through the undead like a runaway buffalo, smashing a path through them, providing safe passage for Miss Bonnie as she followed.

Miles felt a chill as Becker’s voice entered his brain.

“Stop running and face me…boy.”

Miss Bonnie ran up the steps to the church’s front porch. She could hear Gunther and Blake arguing behind the front door, but didn’t have time to care what the fracas was about. She had bigger problems, but she also had the high ground. She loaded two shells into her shotgun just in time to blow the head off an undead.

Miles tried to join her but roared in pain as he felt a pair of sharp claws dig into his back right paw. He fell to the ground and flipped over on his back only to tremble as he saw the rapidly panting Becker standing over him.

Men fight,” Becker said. “Boys run. Which is it going to be?

In werewolf form, it was hard for an observer to conceive of Miles as a boy. He was just as big as Becker and just as physically powerful but, deep inside, he was still a kid. He panicked and covered his face with his paws.

Pathetic,” Becker said as he grabbed Miles, lifted him over his head, then slammed him on the ground.

Miss Bonnie picked up one of the Winchesters and racked up a silver tipped bullet. Just as Becker was about to bring a slash down on Miles’ face, she fired a shot and tore a permanent hole through the beast’s arm.

Becker turned his attention to Miss Bonnie. She knocked on the door behind her.

“Rain!”

The redhead yanked on the lever of the rifle to spit out a spent casing and load up a new bullet.

She pounded on the door.  Hard.  “Rain!  Open the door and get the hell out of the way!”

Like an angry bull, Becker scrummed his back paw across the ground behind him three times, then charged.

Miss Bonnie raised up the Winchester and took aim at Becker’s head.

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