‘Dredd’ Is 2012’s Greatest Non-Porn Film

Sainted Mother of Nixon — my favorite flick of 2012, Dredd, was released on 3-D Blu-ray today. And as soon as my butler finishes whipping up my standard movie snack (consisting of five pounds of bacon, a jar of mayonaisse, two buckets of fudge, and a 12-pack of Guinness), I’m going to power up my 84″ Sony XBR 4K Ultra HD TV and once again revel in the sight of this cinematic masterpiece.

Oh? Surprised that I’d enjoy such a film, are you? So was Leo Dreisdale when I saw him at Whitemale Country Club earlier today. We were in the sauna, lazily flipping through vintage issues of Hustler while smoking cigars and drinking brandy.

Dredd, is it?” Dreisdale said disapprovingly, ashing on the foot of a nearby towel girl to emphasize his disdain. “I thought that was some kind of science fiction bullshit, Carver.”

“It is,” I said, simultaneously shrugging and farting. “But so are the Atlas Shrugged movies, and they’re excellent.”

“Hmm, true. Still — seems very 99 percent-ish.”

“Quite the contrary.”

“How so?”

“Christ, are you kidding me?” I said, waving my empty glass at the girl. “The whole movie consists of two uniformed officers gunning down an entire apartment building full of 99 percenters!”

“Huh. That does sound promising.” Then, to the girl: “Hey sweetie, don’t forget to top me off once you’re done with him.”

“Nothing but dead bottom-feeders as far as the eye can see. Definite liberals. The director didn’t go so far as to have them all clutching Obamaphones, but his message comes through loud and clear.”

“No shit? I might have to check this out after all.”

“No might about it, Dreisdale! Did I mention that the body count primarily consists of minorities? And that a bum gets squashed by a sliding door because he’s too lazy to move? This film is bursting at the seams with poignant allegory!”

“OK, OK, you sold me!” he laughed, raising his arms in mock surrender. “I– Say…”

“Yes?”

“Is it just me or does it smell like shit in here?”

I drained my glass, stood up, and looked down at my bench. “Yep, it sure does. Guess that last fart was actually a shart.”

Dreisdale stared at the evidence in disbelief. The towel girl started to cry.

“You call that a shart?” he said. “Jesus, that thing is bigger than most cats!”

“Alright,” I said, tossing my glass over my shoulder as I headed for the exit. “I didn’t come here to be insulted. Besides, I have Dredd to watch. Ta ta.”

Speaking of which, my butler just arrived with the chow, so ta ta to you as well. Creeps.

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Categories: Culture, Food, Leisure, Servants, Violence

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