pledge this

Had some friends over for Zinfandel during the weekend. Somewhere along the line, my brain hiccuped and I suggested we watch teenage movie Pledge This. We did.
None of us came away decent. In fact, we are scarred for life by idiocy. See, this movie will dumb you down so much it is frankly a miracle I’m still able to tie my shoelaces and remember a third of my pin number.

Earlier, Pledge This was known as the movie with the lowest ever score on IMDB. Since, it has been eclipsed by something called The Hottie And The Nottie… but still… if you know how to spell, and cherish this capability, avuouid itt.

Paris Hilton is in Pledge This. You may have thought she had no talent – you had no idea how kind you were to her. [If you must, try the “documentary” One Night In Paris instead…]

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Now, one may wonder why I “acquired” the movie for free in the first place? Well, sometimes when you arrange wine-slash-movie nights, you prefer to catch up on the latest gossip instead of gazing at moving pictures. At other times, you’re so engrossed by the plot you get annoyed by the mere sound of a single popcorn hitting the floor. Safe to say, this was the former option – and why I always make sure to carry a small selection of cheaper titles in my movie archive. Yes, that night we just wanted something on the screen to point & laugh at, something to interrupt our ape chat.

Oh, we did laugh. But it was an uncomfortable sort of laughter, the embarrassing kind, groan-like, as if you felt horribly ashamed of the world that managed to produce this piece of anti-culture. Try rolling your eyes for 90 minutes – that’s the toll it takes! It definitely drove us to drinkin’ more and faster than de rigeur.

In retrospect, I’ve come to the conclusion that the only positive effect Pledge This could ever have, is if aliens return to earth to claim us as the slaves they have been training us into since they taught us to build pyramids – but happen across this movie – and swiftly decide to leave for another couple of thousand years on the pretext that we’re not quite there yet.

And I’d have to agree with them; we are certainly not quite there yet. Fact, it feels like we’re never going to get there, where it ever will be, because I think we’re going backwards.
When I was pre-moped, we liked Porky’s. Back then, the tit jokes were slick, and none of us suffered any ill effects. Apart from for the rest of your life dreaming about finding that ever-elusive peeping hole into the girls’ locker room, of course.

55 thoughts on “pledge this”

  1. Karma chameleon, I’d say… or in other words: better to try and find the elusive peeping hole than indulge in the bulge and go to war.

    Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way, or does it, US of A?

  2. The water that runs under the bridge of life is far too often colored in both pink and crimson, it seems.

    I’m thinking of putting myself in great danger. Out of curiosity, it would be quite an experiment to find the absolute zero of bad. Haven’t we all asked “how bad could it possibly be?”. Well, we’re already moving on a vegetable level, so the answer is probably “impossibly bad.”
    The Hottie And The Nottie, my friends. Locked-in-syndrome is likely, but if anyone out there manages to sit through this movie with your communicational system reasonably intact and dribble-free, please tell me about it.
    Personally, post-Pledge This, I will have to build up mental strength for a very long time before I’m able to attack the new IMDB number last – but should you master The Hottie And The Nottie, you can finally say that you’ve seen it all, taken on all comers, and remained standing.

  3. Talking ’bout how low can you go – Heathrow, T5? BA? Max Mosley? What a weekend for Blighty…

  4. Oh man, Heathrow and BA, don’t even get me started on this worst of all travel combinations. I can only recommend, if at all possible, to avoid both like they’d give you hepatitis. Having lived in London from 97-01, and never having had a toilet that worked properly during all those years and all those apartments, I am not at all surprised by their penchant for royal screw-ups.

    As for Max Mosley, I could not believe it. I still can’t, and I never was a fan of the man in the first place. The fact that he is the son of Fascist leader Sir Oswald Mosley never bothered me, however, despite the media’s fascination with this. It’s not like you can choose your dad.
    Now, though… partaking in a spot of Nazi-style orgy with five prostitutes is not the mark of a man in control. Naturally, legal sexual preferences are not something others should condemn too harshly, but the president of FIA ought to carry better judgement. If anyone managed to miss the action:

    “The FIA president was said to have re-enacted an alleged concentration camp scene in which he played the role of both guard and inmate and, speaking in German, beat the women and allowed himself to be inspected for lice and “interrogated” in chains.”

    Britain is the country of scandal, and old British men are the kinkiest suckers in the world. It makes me wonder how they brought up kids in the UK back in the day.
    In any case, I want a new FIA president, and I’m easily liberal in predisposition (much unlike the the Jewish community, perpetually crying rape). But it’s just too embarrassing to imagine him walking the pits after this. The car manufacturers are clearly not accepting this, either. Resign, you old fool. It’s the only decent thing to do.

    Jean Todt for FIA president! (not that McLaren would go for this…)

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