The Evil Dead (2013): Movie Review

The Evil Dead (2013): Movie Review.

Trivial Pursuits

Seems most people have an appetite for lesser known facts and useless trivia, especially if it involves misfortune, as we are adept at creating bad luck. (Murphy’s Law #3. Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse.)  The lowly opossum is a prime example: when they are playing possum, they are not “playing”.  They actually pass out from sheer terror.  This sort of ditty is just what folks want to know.  Of course there will always be interest in local trivia, such as is the case of kudzu.  Did you know it has taken over as much combined area as the state of Vermont?  Perhaps there’s a future in kudzu real estate, and if so, I’m turning my five acres into condos, a doughnut store and a full time flea market.  Overall, though, we tend to have a fascination with rare bits of information that involves adversity.  The ‘whys’ of this phenomenon should be debated by deep-thinking philosophers, otherwise there would be an excess of finger wagging and name calling.  Personally, I believe we are all students of human nature, and it is the nature of humans to drawn toward the calamitous, as long as it doesn’t involve us.  (Murphy’s Law #5: The buddy system is essential to your survival, it gives the enemy somebody else to shoot at.)

If you have a friend with insectophobia, you can share this interesting piece of information: there are more bugs in one square mile of rural land than there are human beings in the world.  Maybe that’s why so many of us are leery of them – get one relatively smart insect angry at you, and you’re liable to get carried away by a swarm.  Ask a praying mantis why he does that and he’ll probably answer that he prays that we’ll all be in trouble when the cockroaches realize they’re invulnerable.  There’s a pest control commercial making the rounds these days, where a man-sized insect rings someone’s doorbell pretending to deliver a pizza.  Right.  If the bugger’s that big he won’t need to sneak his way in, especially if he has a couple of home boys with him.  I read once that the average human swallows around five spiders in their sleep during a lifetime.  Now I duct tape my jaw shut at night now.  In the morning when I pry it off it works better than a razor, too.

Soccer has been a huge European sport for ages, and we all know they call it ‘futball’, but the game was actually invented by the English while they were kicking around the heads of slaughtered Danish invaders.  Those Brits are a tough group.  The middle finger salute came into being via the English, too.  Back in the day of longbowmen, the British and French were always fighting over something or other.  The Limeys were so good with their bows that whenever one was captured by the French, the finger they drew their bow back with (of course, the birdie finger) was chopped off.  Consequently, whenever the English came within sight of a Frenchman, they would show off their bow finger as proof they could still function.  We’ve come a long way, baby.  In this case, it seems we’ve gone backwards.  Whatever you do, though, be nice to the Queen.  She literally owns every single swan in the empire.  Wouldn’t want them flying overhead just after tea time.

Now there are some, especially in the political and financial arena (wait, that’s the same thing now, isn’t it) who use statistics as if it were fact.  One of my heroes, Mark Twain, said there were three kinds of lies: lies, damn lies and statistics.  He also said a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting its shoes on.  Try this one on for size: more than 2500 left-handed people are killed every year from using right handed products.  Give me a break.  I’m a southpaw and have used my right handed can opener for years with nothing more than a rash to show for it.

Finally, there are trivialities that are just too outrageous to be believable, although there are those who will believe anything. For example, did you know that you are officially the one millionth person to read this blog post? (Murphy’s Law #9: Tell a man there are 300 billion stars in the universe and he’ll believe you.  Tell him a bench has wet paint on it and he’ll have to touch it to be sure.)  By the way, you have paint all over your back. Have a nice day! (For your information, the average person has three nice days per week. I used all mine up in the seventies.)

Its No Fun Being a Genius

It is no fun being a genius.  Especially one that’s a little slow on the uptake.  That’s what confuses people about me.  Who said geniuses had to be quick witted?  Actually, my particular type of brilliance only shines when no one else is around.  Remember the 1999 movie “Mystery Men”?  One of the superheroes, Invisible Boy, could only become invisible if no one was looking.  I’m like that, except when others are around my brain is invisible.  There’s even a name for it: Esprit de l’escalier, the witty comment or snappy reply you wish you had said to someone earlier if you had only thought of it.  I always come up with a clever retort, but only three days later.

It’s like being the smartest computer in the world with a hamster in a wheel for a processor.  I always thought I could be a doctor or a lawyer, but they don’t give picture exams.  The only college classes I could excel in were in Philosophy, because all you have to do is argue.  If there’s anything I’ve learned by being married four times, it’s arguing.  Maybe that’s why I was married four times.  It only took me that many marriages to figure out how not to argue.  See?  I’ve always been burdened with molasses for brains.  It took me six kids to figure out what caused them.  The seventh was a scientific experiment to prove what I had learned.  Hey, no one ever told me.

You won’t believe how difficult it is to suffer from lethologica (the inability to recall a word that is on the tip of one’s tongue), hypophora (reasoning with oneself outloud) and chronic circumlocution (evasive or indirect language achieved by excessive wordiness).  If it weren’t for my being a genius I’d be in a hopeless state.  I’ve always envied intellectuals who can fly off at the lips without hesitation and make sense all at once.  But then again, I have an ability the average genius can’t begin to comprehend.  I fool people into believing I’m slow-witted, and when I’ve got them right where I want them (usually two counties away), I flash my superior brains and humiliate all the doubters into submission.

I’ve been honing this skill my entire life.  As a child I would lull my audience into believing I’d just finished reading “Hop On Pop” when I’d really polished off “War and Peace”.  Once I even hid Einstein’s Theory of Relativity inside a Superman comic book just so my parents would think I was turning my brain into mush.  My specialty, though, was and always has been the art of debate.  My mother once said I would argue with a fence post.  Well, that’s how I practiced.  Oh, anyone can banter a point back and forth.  It takes someone with real smarts, though, to make the other guy think they’re winning the argument when they’re really not.  There’s a name for this, too, believe it or not: Socratic Irony, feigning ignorance in a debate in order to win a point.  I’ve got that technique down pat.

But as I’ve mentioned already, it’s no fun being a genius with all the special talents I have, and all the mental insufficiencies I’ve had to overcome.  Look, I even have to disguise my face so people don’t notice that glint of brilliance in my eyes, the intelligent curve of my forehead and the brainy jutting of my jaw.  So, you’ve been warned, dear reader.  I may appear to enter a war of wits unarmed, but my back pockets are full of secret weapons.