It all started so innocently.

I was writing my sister to confirm our summer vacation plans with the 'rents... and then, as always, wackiness ensued.

Here's the email that started it all! (The italic-ed bit is the important part, FYI.)

From: Anne
To: Jane

Hey there, home-skillet. Just letting you know I've requested the time-off. We are totally GO! for Yooper Junk-yard tour 2008! I bet that's gonna be weird for you� traveling all over the world and then you go to the UP. What with all the yoopers and bears and junk cars and abandoned houses and assorted kitsch Americana. It'll be like Camp Beverly Hills -- except with 100% less Shelly Long with bleached strawberry blonde hair, and 100% more hair gel and special Jane shaped goo.

You're so sleeping in the room with Mom and Dad by the way. Will and I flipped coins and you lost. Lucky you!

Simple, right?

See, I figure since Jane's been gallivanting around Europe -- this is her payback. I felt it was fair... she begged to disagree.

From: Jane
To: Anne

BITCH, I demand a recall of the coin toss. Totes not fair. TOTES.

Not about to take this lying down, I replied thusly: Dude. You can't recall the coin toss! It's totes the way it's going down. TOTES.

Unfazed, Jane argued her point like any good lawyer might -- with epithets and invectives.

Bitch, you don't own me! I recall the coin toss on the principal that it's unfair that a decision that affects me was made without my knowledge and without my presence. Choke on that, monkey liver! (snapsnapsnap)

Deciding that this argument was bigger than me, I invited my brother, Will, into the discussion. His logic, as always, is beyond reproach.

I decree no coin toss recalls. As Emperor of Calendars, I hold the most sway. Read the Constitution, it says I have the sway. SWAY!

My response, however, was childish and petulant.

See... even the Emperor of Calendars agrees with me. The coin toss was done with you in absentia -- it's a legal term and everything. Plus, Emperor of Calendars! SWAY! CHOKE ON THE SWAY!

Jane, having listened to one too many dissertations by Che Guevara, empowers herself to resist the Emperor of Calendars's decree.

Dude, the emperor of calendars is a fascist bastard. VIVA LA REVOLUTION!!!

I, as always, remained unimpressed, and being a sucker for the Status Quo -- having long ago sold my soul to THE MAN, and knowing his ways as I do, I gave her an ominous warning.

Tell that to him and his legion of mutant-cyber-Hitlers.

Jane, deciding that the tiny Che Guevara in her head was right, degenerated swiftly into madness -- flashbacking like there was NO tomorrow.

I CHOKE ON NO SWAY. NONE. ZERO. NILCH. NADA. RIEN.

ALLONS ENFANTS DE LA PATRRRRRRIE, LE JOUR DE GLOIRE EST ARRIVE! CONTRE NOUS DE LA TYRANNIE, L'ETENDARD SANGLANT EST LEVE!!!!!!

ANTIFA! ANTIFA! VIVA LA REVOLUCION! HASTA LA VICTORIA SIEMPRE!

And just like that it was ON. On like a trannie beating his lover's girlfriend on the Springer show on... with weave-pulling and everything.

You say that now... but when the cyber-Hitlers unhinge their jaws and swallow your Che Guevaras like fine oysters, then you'll know. OH! How you'll know! AND THEN THE HAMMER'LL COME DOWN! DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAIN! AND THAT MOTHA'UCKA WILL 'UCK WITH YOUR SHI!!! AND THEN I'LL STUFF WILL FERRELL DOWN YOUR PANTS AND HE'LL TOTALLY GIVE YOUR A-HOLE A SWIRLIE! AND THEN WHO'LL BE CRYING NOW!

That'd be you. BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

However, my brother, being the more sensible of the three of us, aptly ceased all argument. And very much like Springer's ever present bodyguard, Steve, quickly diffused the situation.

It's true. As Emperor of Calenders, I get my own army of mutant cyber Hitlers (it's in the US Constitution) to do my bidding. I generally just make them do charity work, like helping out the homeless and handicapped ('cause it's ironic). But I can have them fuck you up in ways that would make The Jesus proud.

And you don't fuck with The Jesus.

True dat, home skillet. True dat.

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Heath Ledger's performance was subtle and nuanced; he was actually menacing -- downright scary, actually -- yet, as horrible as he was, you found yourself laughing along with him. Unlike Jack Nicholson, who was a sad, fat parody of himself at his peak in 'The Shining' or 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'.

Regarding any supposed talent Nicholson may or may not have. He has only ever played one part... Jack "Fucking" Nicholson. Prove me wrong.

No, seriously.

You can't because it's true. He plays the same god-damned character in EVERY movie: a grating, sleazy, womanizing pig with a stupid, high-pitched laugh that breaks every window in a fifty mile radius. Thanks, Jack. Asshole.

Also, Michael Keaton as the Batman? Are you SERIOUS? He's a freaking midget!!!! A four foot tall Batman inspires NO terror in anyone, anywhere. However, it does inspire nearly uncontrollable laughter. (At least for me it does. Really -- that one scene where he hauls that dude up by his lapels and growls: "I'm Batman" -- I laugh hysterically for hours on end, until someone finally wrestles me to the ground and sedates me.)

Val Kilmer came a bit closer, but he was an asshole and he clearly didn't really care. Seriously, go back and look. You can see glazed look of bored disdain etched into his face in every frame of the film. He nearly screams, "I'M DOING THIS FOR THE MONEY!" Also, Jim Carey inspires a kind of hate in me that goes beyond words. It's the kind of hate that is pure... almost primal. And Tommy, Tommy, Tommy... oh... sweetie... *sigh* I'm at a loss! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, TOMMY??!! And then I start to pummel Tommy Lee Jones about the neck and face until he regrets his performance and offers up the ENTIRE WORLD a heartfelt apology.

I'd talk about Batman & Robin, but I'm not allowed to. Court injunction.

***Note to Burton-philes: Sorry, but I think Burton's Batman sucks. It's just an opinion and it won't hurt you. For really.

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