Writing Wrut and a Wreview

Bit of a rut, eh what, Old Nut?

True dat.

I'm thinking (and THERE might be the problem) I need to get a work of fiction underway soon. The creative portion of my brain, the largest part, is atrophying at an alarming rate. The thinking, rational, intellectual portion of my brain, that pea sized spot over on the left that gets me from point A to point 2, having already shrunk from the mighty walnut it once was, is tired of doing all the heavy lifting while the creative part sips margaritas, lies in the shade and naps. I need an idea, any idea, it doesn't even have to be a good idea. Finish the radio drama you say. Yeah yeah, well sure, maybe next week.

Muses are so damn lazy.

So there I was all excited that Anaconda 3 was about to play on my very own TV tube, what with Anaconda 2 cleverly titled "Anacondas" having been such a raging success, if by success I mean flopping worse than soccer player looking for a foul call. 3 promised a sixty foot long serpent that bit people's heads off and that is what it delivered in as bloody a manner as the director, surely a twisted twelve year old, could devise and I have no criticism there. These are good things in a horror movie if you don't make them too slimy. I mean the object is to scare the viewers, not to make them squirm and turn away. Well, it is to my way of thinking anyway. What disappointed me about the film were two things. The first was that the snakes were cartoon drawings overlaid on the screens action. Really, if modern special effects can make a T-Rex look real, how hard can a snake be? The second turn off was that David Hasselhoff, the movie's star, didn't get his head bitten off, a thing he clearly deserved in this flick and most of his other entertainment endeavors. Ah well, maybe he'll get his comeuppance in Anaconda 4.