It’s like The Rocketeer got raped by Transformers.

As many of you (my fans) might imagine, having and maintaining an important and popular weblog such as joemande.com can sometimes feel like a full time job. Every morning, before I watch TV and read the Drudge Report for inspiration, I have to log on to my website and sift through literally thousands of reader comments. I do this despite the fact I could totally get a robot do it for me. Easily. But I don’t; I insist on doing it myself. I believe the major reason I emerged as a true comedic force in New York City in 2007 was because my fans (who are the BEST, by the way) were able to sense my influence, and personally connect with me as a genius, as they read and responded to my website.

Sadly, I’ve come to suspect that many of my “readers” are frauds. Phonies. A bunch of fake-ass posers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little devastated by this realization.

You may have to look closely, but see if you can tell what’s wrong with the comments I got this morning:

That’s right. Not only are they needlessly repetitive, but they also all have the same IP Address! Can you believe that? Here I am thinking I’m making this personal connection with a slew of new fans–people like Black Pussy Black Lesbian Porn Fat Black Pussy and Anal Sex Anal Bleaching Black Anal–only to discover that they’re all probably written by the same person. A very fat lesbian with a beautifully bleached black ass.

I’m worried that a few of my more dedicated commenters–people like: Big Asian Lactating Tit Boobs, super bowl party decorations, Granny MILF Mom and Son Sex, Impressive grease broadway tickets, and Gay Horse Fuck, might all be pretenders as well. I pray that my worries are eventually proven to be in vain, but let’s just say I’m not optimistic.

Sometimes I wish all of my fans could act like antonio banderas biography? Talk about a classy commenter.

Textbook form: short, positive, complimentary. You can really tell that that book loves reading my blog, not to mention enjoyes hit films.

So, after six and a half days, Transformers made $152.6 Million dollars. Thus making it the best and most important film ever made.

Ask anyone, I predicted Shia LaBeouf’s star power way back in his Even Stevens days. And, yes, I still plan on becoming best friends with him.

Can I just say that he and Anthony Anderson are the Wilder/Pryor of the 21st centch?

I’ve already called dibs on the screenplay rights, so don’t even try it.

Michael Bay’s Transformers made like a billion dollars over the Fourth of July holiday. $80.50 of those dollars belonged to me. Look:

“7 Adult Tickets to: Transformers (PG-13).” That’s basically where my life is right now.

I’ve been waiting for a live-action Transformers movie for over 20 years, and I say that truthfully. I haven’t been this excited for a movie since Michael Crichton’s Congo in 1995. (Also true.)

All I have to say about Transformers is: I’m going to have to see at least eight more times. Not only because it was amazing, but because it was also quite possibly the most confusing film I’ve ever seen. It was so fast and so loud, I had very little idea what was going on. It was like a car wreck, only it lasted longer than two hours, and the cars were also 60-foot robots. 

Within the first ten minutes of the movie, the setting changed from outer space, to Qatar, to the North Pole a hundred years ago, to Bernie Mac’s used car lot. It was simply too much to comprehend. I made a list of things I think I understood. These twelve things constitute all I was able to process after one viewing:

TWELVE OBSERVATIONS ABOUT TRANSFORMERS:

1. Transformers was the best movie I’ve ever seen in my life.

2. Transformers was the most retarded movie I’ve ever seen in my life. (I mean “retarded” not in a colloquial sense, but in a retarded-people sense.)

3. If you didn’t already know, Transformers are an advanced and ancient species of alien cyborgs who speak English and all turn into General Motors vehicles. They are divided into good robots (Autobots) and some are bad robots (Decepticons).

4. All Autobots understand the importance of good, old-fashioned physical comedy.

5. You know when a police car is really a Decepticon in disguise when the decal on its rear door says “To Punish and Enslave” instead of “To Protect and Serve.” Sort of a dead giveaway, if you ask me.

6. One Autobot is named “Jazz.” He’s the “Black” one. He loves to break dance, lacks a certain amount of empathy, and turns into a Pontiac Solstice. (Minor quibble: wouldn’t a real Black robot turn into a Cadillac? Or at least a GMC Yukon? I watch The Wire, I know what’s up.) Jazz was voiced by veteran actor Darius McCrary, better known to many as Eddie Winslow. So tight.

7. Jazz is also the only Autobot to die. Obviously. This raises an interesting question: Is Jazz’s death yet another example of a predictable Hollywood stereotype, or are you crazy to think it’s racist when an alien Pontiac dies in battle?

8. There will be an applause break in the theater when Bumblebee transforms from a rusty old hoopty into a 2008 Chevrolet Camaro. The cheering will not be sarcastic.

9. Because they’re machines, Transformers don’t produce bodily waste. However, they will totally piss on your head for the sake of comic relief (see #4). 

10. Remember when girls in high school looked like this?

11. The words “Put that cube in my chest!” only get funnier the more times they’re uttered.

12. The movie ends with what looks like the beginning of a human/car/robot orgy. Leaving room for a very exciting, and erotic, sequel.

Needless to say, I give it 5/5 stars CARS!

My proposal: that the 50-foot Michael Jackson robot be surrounded by 50-foot robots of curious/frightened Japanese people.

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