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Uncle Don’s Views of Nil Repute:

More like ‘Bore me to Death’

June 11, 2009|By Uncle Don

It was a dark and stormy night. Really. Kinda. Sorta. Hunkered down, I was rooting through the Dumpster of this highfalutin restaurant, which in my nomenclature means anything sans a drive-up window.

There, a dessert menu, sandwiched between some fish-eggie-looking things and a bottle of wine with no vintage date but a definite expiration date. On it was an abomination called caramel bacon ice cream. Talk about something in bad taste!

Let’s do just that. Looking over at Rotten Tomatoes, which publishes online reviews of movies written by legitimate critics, i.e. those who have an education, talent, awards, knowledge and some pride in their work, I spotted a flick that got almost unanimous praise.

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“Drag Me to Hell.” Directed by some guy with a greater number of vowels than consonants in his last name, it is more overrated than an In-N-Out 4-by-4. I had high hopes for this flick. Blood, guts, violence. I sure didn’t expect it to be a “Battlefield Earth” with lamer special effects, the most sophisticated of which is some sort of flying handkerchief with which any reputable haberdasher would deign to sully his shop.

A few days after this here curse occurs, and accompanied by music as dramatic as an NFL highlights film, up pops the requisite tubercular gypsy hag.

She may be able to put curses on the innocent, but she sure can’t seem to make her house payments. It’s off to the bank to beg on bended knee for a chunk of President Obama’s housing relief. Turned down by the attractive young loan officer, she spews venom, hatred and the few polysyllabic words she knows while finely dressed in her best 1930s soup-kitchen couture.

It’s the crone vs. the cutie in a fight to the phlegmish.

The cutie’s clueless boyfriend is a psychologist or psychiatrist or one of them things, with a cleft in his chin so deep one could dry-dock a destroyer. So, is his girlfriend cursed or just permanently PMS’d? We, the oblivious, are blessed with the next hour or so to suffer through the obvious. (Maybe she’s both.)

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