Windex Rocks!

I love things I hate!

But sometimes you're just in the mood for bleak, no matter how much of a glad little Pollyanna you usually are. Perhaps, for instance, you just saw A.I. and dutifully absorbed its moral: that humanity sucks. Here's what The Orange County Register's invaluable Holly McClure (she of the "family film reviews," which rates films based on how many times breasts are shown) had to say about it: "Technically, this movie is brilliant, but I'm giving it a low rating because of the depressing and disturbing story content." Granted, McClure isn't known for nuanced thought. I once witnessed a live Politically Incorrect panel at UC Irvine during which she pointed out that "because of the gun laws," a 9-year-old girl couldn't get access to her father's gun to save her younger sisters from the pitchfork-wielding murderer who broke into their home a few weeks before.

And yes, the film is fucked-up. It's bleak. And the end, which I think was aiming for "happy," is the bleakest, most sham part of it. But there was also a lot that was valuable in it, a lot that provoked thought, even if it was "depressing and disturbing" thought. Morbid, even.

Now where are my needle and spoon?

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