Counterpoint: The Dark Knight Rises Like the Erection I Got From Watching It — With Some Difficulties but Fairly Well Overall

A graphical representation of Simon and Leo.

Before we begin, I should say that I have now seen The Dark Knight Rises (hereafter TDKR) in theater on three separate occasions. I feel that this qualifies me as an authority on the film in the same sense that stalking Carly Rae Jespen makes Sir Edward Twattingworth III an expert on the lyrics to “Call Me Maybe.” There, I referenced it, can I go on now?

I have seen too many reviews declaring TDKR to be an average, even “bad” movie not worthy of the previous two Batman films by director Christopher Nolan. Since Batman isn’t here to defend himself, I figure a self-confessed sex addict from Eastern Europe is as qualified as any to take up his mantle and cowl. To be blunt, Simon K, Sherman Ave’s esteemed correspondent, falls into the same trap as many other reviewers, declaring TDKR to be bombastic, unremarkable, and full of plot holes; in truth, those descriptors fit Simon’s review better than they do the film. No offense brah.

But first I must confess that I, too, found some major plot holes in TDKR. The following are a few I noticed:

• Bane performs a non-inoculated blood transfusion while hanging upside down, at altitude, in a disintegrating plane. THE AMERICAN MEDICAL ASSOCIATION CLEARLY WAS NOT CONSULTED. At least no animals were harmed, amirite? (Disappointingly, there were only 2 adorable German Shepard police dogs in the film. Thankfully, there were no horses. Fuck horses.)

• No one except Joseph Gordon-Levitt deduces that Bruce Wayne is Batman. How many Gothamites can afford to throw thousand dollar Batarangs away like they’re pennies? Do you think, when the camera pans off screen, that Batman goes around picking up all his toys to reuse them? After all, Bruce IS broke as shit for the majority of this movie.

• How did Commissioner Gordon know where to throw the flare to light up the lighter fluid Batsign? Would Batman have provided another flare to ‘Mishner if he had missed? Would he have just used his Go-Go-Gadget Bat Flamethrower? The world will never know.

These fatal plot flaws RUINED MY MOVIE-GOING EXPERIENCE, FOR REALZ AND FOR SERIAL. But really, plot holes do not a bad film make, Simon. I would rather have a plot-intensive film with some issues than a totally smooth but unremarkable story. Unless that unremarkable story is, like, starring Will Ferrell or something, because he totally carries that shit. Also, contrary to Simon’s claims, no new information was introduced by the ghost of Ra’s Al Ghul — I know this because I’ve checked, and rechecked, and then checked again because I saw this movie in theaters three times and shutup that’s why.

Since I’m already advocating for a defenseless, sexually frustrated (LOLunderstatement), obsessive-compulsive, polisophile (Greek for one who is erotically attracted to his city) playboy who refuses to kill people but hurts them so badly they wish they were dead, I figured I would address some other complaints out there. I’ve seen other critics ask how Batman could have escaped the prison and re-entered Gotham. I guess it’s a thing now to doubt billionaire ninjas with connections to the most powerful people and technologies the world has ever known. Same goes for dodging a nuclear explosion with 5 seconds to go. Totally not a plot-hole that actually makes you go “lolwutfucksaw?”

At the annual Gotham City Keg Race, circa 1967.

Back again, now, to Simon’s complaints, because I, too, like to keep my reviews spastic enough to justify a Ritalin prescription. What’s the confusion about Bruce Wayne boning Miranda Tate? As you said, THOSE EYES. Also, THAT ACCENT. Bruce finds out the love of his life was going to choose some asshole lawyer over THE GODDAMN BATMAN. Of course he’s going to go out and get some. That’s how self-destructive people recover from disappointment. The real surprise is that he didn’t immediately go for DAT BODY on Catwoman. Seriously, this is the chick from Princess Diaries?! I need to go rent Love and Other Drugs. And Princess Diaries 2, because how WILL she handle all that pressure? She’s just a normal girl in a princess world!!! But as turned on as I was by Catwoman’s awesome bodeh, I too was turned off by her stereotypical and lame quips. Batman and Bane both have their puns and one-liners, but something about Catwoman’s retorts seemed off.

I personally loved seeing Batman and Bane duke it out. Those were some intense body-shots they were throwing. And we got to see it! So many movies hide the action with shaky cameras and other visual obfuscation. Those are PUSSY movies. Batman is NOT a pussy. Except when he gets his VERTEBREH dislodged. Total pussy move.

Honestly Simon, it appears that most of your complaints boil down to “this is more of a superhero movie than I expected and AH HATE IT!” Between Catwoman’s quips, Bane wanting to slowly punish Gotham, and Batman needing to “find himself” and recover from an impossible injury and stop a nuclear bomb at the last second, this is definitely the most “superhero” Nolan-does-Batman film of the series. Does that make it bad? I certainly don’t think so. Does that mean it can’t hold a candle to its predecessors? Hardly.

During one of the most powerful moments in TDKR, Alfred says: “Maybe it’s time people stop trying to outsmart the truth and let it have its day.” Simon, my dear, the truth is this: you are not smarter than this movie, and it is not bad.

Also, fuck Robin.

An Open Letter to my Unborn Grandson Explaining the Sport of Football

Dear Unborn Grandson,

Still waiting for the Houston Texans’ upcoming “Divisional Round Dubstep.”

If you are reading this now, two things must have happened. Apparently, a) I have lived like I died, drunkenly paddling a canoe in the buff down the Chicago River, and b) President Malia Ann Obama has outlawed the sport of football in our once-proud United States of America. Luckily for you, I predicted that such travesties would happen — mostly because canuding through the poisonous sludge that is the Chicago River while belligerently intoxicated can have adverse effects on your health — but also because the sport of football was pretty damn dangerous. What follows is all the important knowledge you will ever need to know in order to preserve the memory and history of the sport of football and ensure that you never ever fall prey to the allure of its metrosexual European cousin.

You see, Unborn Grandson, football was the greatest sport ever invented. The perfect combination of brawn and strategy and cheerleaders. Good God, don’t ever let us forget the cheerleaders.

Speaking of God, Yahweh fucking loved football. Just fucking loved it. Loved the sport so much that members of both teams would pray to God, asking for strength, fortitude, a sturdy offensive line, and a guaranteed contract plus incentives. God rewarded good Christians who couldn’t throw a spiral with an impregnable defense, while punishing other franchises with the likes of Cade McNown and Rex Grossman.

God loved football because football fucking ruled. In America, pro football was more popular than if Justin Bieber and cholesterol teamed up with all other major sports combined. No other game combined savage violence with cunning tactics and celebration dances quite like it. The game induced grown men in Philadelphia to throw D-batteries at Santa Claus, wear slices of cheese on their heads as they froze their asses off in Wisconsin, and even every once in awhile travel willingly to Detroit (this, after all, was before the city was overtaken by the mole people).

The athletes who played the game were revered as gods among men. If, you know, the gods were really great at running hitch and go routes and sending pictures of their junk to women they weren’t married to. Even the kickers, whose sole purpose in life was to — you guessed it Unborn Grandson — kick a ball still got laid, an impressive feat for somebody like Sebastian Janikowski.

Back before Google installed screens in all of our heads, we used to watch this magical sport from early Fall until February on things called “televisions,” which showed us the game and expert analysis of the game and hot women drinking shitty beer during breaks in the game. Sidenote: One day, Unborn Grandson, you might think that drinking Busch Light is “hip,” and “retro,” and “ironically hilarious,” but let me tell you, it’s not. All of your little hipster friends in the year 2063 might think it’s really cool to ironically drink your old man’s beer while you listen to Skrillex mp3’s and wear skinny jeans or some shit like that, but those kids have no idea how painful these things were at the time. Just be advised that my will specifically strips you of all rights to my Pokemon card collection if you are ever found Tebowing.

But yeah, TV was pretty great for football, and at the very end of the season, America held a special sacred holiday called Super Bowl Sunday. For one day the entire nation turned its eyes on the two best football teams of the year, who tried very hard to win the championship game and the ensuing confetti and the pretty metal trophy and the rights to wear rings the size of diamond-crusted nuva rings and to cry into Chris Berman‘s microphone. Halftime entertainment featured the very best aging classic rock stars had to offer, and even the occasional rogue booby or floating Usher.

The only thing better than professional football was college football. The college game was as passionate as Sicilians, and its governing body was as corrupt as, well, Sicilians. The rivalries were intense, and the pregames before a noon kickoff were unseemly in the best possible way.

Now, I’m sure grandpop’s alma mater has made quite a name for itself in the future, thanks to alumni like Ross Packingham (Beer Pong Olympic goldmedalist, 2024, 2028) and Chet Haze (Bratz 3D, Forrest Gump 2: Gump n Grind), but we were once a pretty respectable football institution too. We’re talking, like, the 7th most feared Big Ten team.

College football had things called “bowl games” instead of the Super Bowl to commemorate the end of its season. It worked kind of like youth soccer, where almost everybody got a trophy. I can still remember the thrill of victory when Northwestern won its first bowl game since the Rose Bowl, defeating the South Dakota State Jackrabbits in one of the most thrilling Overstock.com Money Grab Bowl in years. Those were the days. Half of the school erupted into celebration while patiently explaining to the other half what a first down was.

But I can only assume that the goddamn liberals and the socialists and the gays and the concussed NFL retirees will collude together to pressure President Malia Obama to ban the sport from America altogether in the near future. I cannot express how tragic of a mistake this will be, on par with our future decision to defrost Walt Disney or replace football with children fighting to the death for our entertainment.

Alright, Unborn Grandson, I hope this letter has reached you well. Please understand how important the sport of football was to all Americans, and don’t judge us too harshly for our cultural transgressions during the YOLO era. Things like twitter and Four Loko seemed like pretty great ideas at the time.

Well, that’s about it. I hope things are well in the future for you and your Roomba overlords. Are they still making teenage fiction about vampires? Has Christopher Nolan won an Oscar yet? How does your generation feel about the Black Keys?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a river to canude down.

Sincerely,
Evander

Revelations from the News of the World wiretaps

Don't let the jowels deceive you: This man is as evil as he is shrewd

As if the world needed further proof of Ruport Murdoch’s penchant for pure evil, the Master of Misinformation has recently become embroiled in a scandal of heinous proportions. Allegations are swirling that Murdoch’s best-selling tabloid, the News of the World, has widely engaged in illegal phone hacking over the years in order to intercept the voicemails of numerous public figures, including victims of terrorism and murder. Not that we ever held the “News of the Screws” to particularly high ethical levels, but it seems that most Brits expected the tabloid to have developed a slightly higher morality than Nixon. But now, thanks to our shady underworld connections, we have uncovered and poured over the secret trove of the results of nearly 168 years of wiretapping conducted by the News of the World, and are now prepared to share their revelations with the rest of the world:

-Thanks to a loophole in Parliamentary Procedure, Hugh Grant accidentally served as acting Prime Minister for three days in 2008 while Gordon Brown was out sick with the flu.

-Sean Connery cries at the end of Love Actually every time.

-Queen Victoria suffered from a severe schoolgirl crush on Jefferson Davis during his tenure as President of the Confederate States of America.

-John Lennon’s favorite past time during recording sessions was to prank call Scotland Yard and repeatedly ask to speak to “Mike Rotch.”

-Christopher Nolan cannot get to sleep at night without masturbating to at least one of his own movies.

-David Cameron never returns Nick Clegg’s phone calls.

-Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic opera H.M.S. Pinafore was originally conceived as a rock opera chronicling W.S. Gilbert’s forays into England’s Victorian-era sexual underground.

-It took King George VI nearly four months to learn how to correctly say, “Can you can a can as a canner can can a can?”

-The England National Football Team is never as good as the expectations.

-Prime Minister John Major secretly thought that Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge was a pompous jackass.

-Oasis vocalist Liam Gallagher totally hooked up with Princess Di in the loo of at least 3 different Manchester clubs. Gallagher would later regret breaking their tryst off because it was making him an “emotional wreck.”

-Oscar Wilde spent 97% of his time rehearsing witticisms to drop while mingling in high society.

-Margaret Thatcher’s eyes emit a powerful laser, hot enough to burn a socialist alive in .67 seconds, and bring the Falkland Islands to their knees.

-Harry Potter is still awaiting trial regarding his vigilante form of justice.

-Helena Bonham Carter and husband Tim Burton engage in the strangest sex known to man.

-David Beckham is rumored to play for a soccer club known to some as the “LA Galaxy,” a supposed American professional soccer club and member of the mythical and shadowy organization dubbed the “MLS.”

-Elizabeth II was extraordinarily disappointed when Prince William decided to marry Kate Middleton, citing reports that Pippa Middleton is clearly the hotter of the two.

-Rupurt Murdoch is still a tremendous asshole.