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Here's an exciting opportunity: spend one hour and 38 minutes trapped in a
recreation vehicle with hyperactive manboy Robin Williams as he bounces
off the walls, constantly switching back and forth between his four or
five stock voices and never, ever shutting up!

And you get to pay for the privilege? Who wouldn't? Would you like some
overpriced popcorn with that?

Really, that anyone at all has actually seen this movie is pretty
astounding. Think of all the things that had to happen to make this
possible: someone had to write it, someone had to read that script (or at
least hear the pitch) and then agree to give lots of money to someone to
make it, they had to find a director with little enough taste to do it,
and then viewers had to suffer enough accidents in which they sustained
blunt force trauma to the head until they lost enough brain cells to be
willing to part with real-life money to be allowed to watch it.

It's enough to make you believe in miracles, isn't it? Terrible, terrible

Kelsey Grammer performing stunts, fighting, and wirework? Who am I
kidding? Sign me up (for a lobotomy)!

I'll save you the experience of a Swayze-haired Tom Hanks and just tell
you to what the Code works out to: "Don't forget to drink your Ovaltine."

I was at a Hollywood party one time with my good friend Merlin Olsen and
Tom Cruise was there. He was doing this trick (and I hear he does this at
every party, by the way, and everyone just acts like they're amazed and
they've never seen it before) in which he bites all the way through a
two-inch thick bar of solid steel and then points at everybody with both
hands and yells, "Yeah! YEAH!!"

Anyway, Geena Davis is there watching the trick, and of course Geena Davis
has a huge crush on me, so the moment she spots me she giggles like a
schoolgirl and squeals, "Look, it's Zonar!"

Tom hears this just as he's crunching through the steel with those
chompers of his and he says, "What? Xenu? Where!?" and proceeds to
completely flip out. He's screaming like crazy as he pulls this piece of
paper out of his pocket and oragamis it up to look like a little swan.

Then he stands on the swan and yells, "fly us back to the Freewind, little
Tinglewing!" Nothing happens of course, so now he's just shrieking like a
maniac. Finally, Merlin picks up the punch bowl and just pours it over
Tom and the shock of the cold water at least shuts him up. A few minutes
later, John Travolta showed up with a towel and gave him a ride home, and
I thought that was the end of that. But no, now every other week I
receive an 8x10 glossy of Tom Cruise in the mail with the words "I KNOW
THE TRUTH, XENU!" written with a thick black sharpie on it.

Anyway, that's why I'm not seeing Mission Impossible III.

Also, it looks dumb.

Here's the movie for all of you Americans so blindly nationalistic that
you needs must be assured that no filthy foreigners are going to be
haunted or haunting in your horror films. I hope there's a special thanks
somewhere in the credits to all the fine American psychics who patrol the
borders every day making sure no Mexican ghosts float across the border to
take away the jobs of taxpaying American ghosts in crappy Hollywood

Lindsay Lohan stars as a young blah blah blah - snore...

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