We are a nation of fatties, so we'll probably be caught with our elasticized-waist pants down, when the shit starts hitting the fan. Last night I went to see The Children of Men, a lovely, feel-good movie that gets me really excited for what's to come. For a futuristic thriller that shows us a world on the not-so-distant horizon where society has collapsed and women haven't been able to conceive for nearly 20 years, it was fairly kick-ass. (Stop reading if you haven't seen it, but plan to)I came out of the theater feeling a couple of things. One, I was glad the streets surrounding the 600 N. Michigan hadn't erupted into chaos in the couple of hours I was inside. And two, I think I'd want to be a gun-toting maniac who can kill her enemy with her bare hands when we the globe goes up for grabs.
To be honest, I've let myself go a bit. So I'm going to have to get on my Apocalypse regimen right now. And I'll urge my friends to join me. Rusty, who I know will need no convincing, will be my knife expert, and I have a bit of a fascination with fire (I'm a Leo) so I'll cover the explosives.
As far as our bodies and outfits, I'm thinking Linda Hamilton in the Terminator meets Sigourney Weaver in Alien. Julianne Moore in the Children of Men proved where walking around with blown out hair and Ralph Lauren clothes will get you. . .
And that would be dead in the first thirty minutes of the movie.
1 comment:
Seriously, if no children had been born for 18 years, the streets would be full of parents and school teachers partying not rioting.
Post a Comment