The other night, I was watching CNN and heard a familiar voice and thought: "God, I loathe that man." That man was Piers Morgan, a smarmy, no-good, unaccountably-still-employed man with the unhealthily swollen head of a twelve-year-old boy. What was amazing was not that I find him so loathsome, but that I then heard another familiar voice and thought, "God, I loathe that man even more. I loathe him so much, it makes the loathing I feel for Piers Morgan seem a little adorable."
That man was not a horrible despot or a horrible killer or a horrible burglar: that man was Brett Ratner.
I hate Brett Ratner. I've always hated Brett Ratner. Brett Ratner is a smug, bloated turd of a man.
He made the Rush Hour movies, which I suppose was all right because there was no reason I would have seen them anyway, so the fact that they sucked wasn't particularly galling to me. Then he made Red Dragon, and that bothered me more, because I at least expected that to be a diverting, blood-drenched romp. At some point during the Red Dragon period, I saw him interviewed, and thought: "Rarely have I so disliked a person after hearing them say only a handful of words." Then, of course, he reached into the body of the X-Men franchise and ripped out its still-beating heart and forced us all to watch as it died in agony. The violent dislike I felt for him was strengthened and validated.
Now an unexpected and delightful thing has happened. Someone I detest has simultaneously justified my detestation and been punished by earning the detestation of a large number of people who aren't me.
Ratner, who had, apparently because of his lack of both taste and a proven track-record of cultural accomplishments, been selected to produce this year's Academy Awards, answered a question at a press conference with the words: "Rehearsal? What's that? Rehearsal's for fags."
This comment, and a number of comments he made about his testicles and overall virility on the Howard Stern show, have resulted in his resigning (I initially said he was fired, but I was accidentally referring to the spirit, and not the letter, of their parting) from the Academy Awards show and being widely disliked by everybody. It is a mark of my maturity and fair-mindedness that I find myself reveling in his public humiliation and hoping it will continue for quite some time. It's rare that someone who looks like he's fat from eating so much money and tired from plying so many underage girls with cocaine actually gets his public comeuppance, and I sincerely hope the only thing on his horizon now is Rush Hour 4.
That man was not a horrible despot or a horrible killer or a horrible burglar: that man was Brett Ratner.
I hate Brett Ratner. I've always hated Brett Ratner. Brett Ratner is a smug, bloated turd of a man.
He made the Rush Hour movies, which I suppose was all right because there was no reason I would have seen them anyway, so the fact that they sucked wasn't particularly galling to me. Then he made Red Dragon, and that bothered me more, because I at least expected that to be a diverting, blood-drenched romp. At some point during the Red Dragon period, I saw him interviewed, and thought: "Rarely have I so disliked a person after hearing them say only a handful of words." Then, of course, he reached into the body of the X-Men franchise and ripped out its still-beating heart and forced us all to watch as it died in agony. The violent dislike I felt for him was strengthened and validated.
Now an unexpected and delightful thing has happened. Someone I detest has simultaneously justified my detestation and been punished by earning the detestation of a large number of people who aren't me.
Ratner, who had, apparently because of his lack of both taste and a proven track-record of cultural accomplishments, been selected to produce this year's Academy Awards, answered a question at a press conference with the words: "Rehearsal? What's that? Rehearsal's for fags."
This comment, and a number of comments he made about his testicles and overall virility on the Howard Stern show, have resulted in his resigning (I initially said he was fired, but I was accidentally referring to the spirit, and not the letter, of their parting) from the Academy Awards show and being widely disliked by everybody. It is a mark of my maturity and fair-mindedness that I find myself reveling in his public humiliation and hoping it will continue for quite some time. It's rare that someone who looks like he's fat from eating so much money and tired from plying so many underage girls with cocaine actually gets his public comeuppance, and I sincerely hope the only thing on his horizon now is Rush Hour 4.
POLITE DISCLAIMER: This site is intended for entertainment purposes only. If you are not entertained, fair enough. Also, I'm not very good at copy-editing, so if something looks wrong, it was put there by accident.
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