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beware of that fucker!

Birthday Movie Review of Warlords of the 21st Century

Subtitled: The Vespa of the Apocalypse That He Made Himself…Outta Chicken Shit.

Sometime in the 1980s post apocalyptic future, gas is at a ludicrous premium (nearly $5 a gallon!), society has broken down and it's every man for himself. I'm your host, Smithee Ninja and this is (cue reverb) Warlords of the 21st Century. Today's contestants are Commander Straker and Hunter. Gentlemen, welcome to the show.

SN: Now Commander Straker, I hear you're something of a tyrant. Tell us a little bit about your operation.

CMDR S: Well, I was a pretty high ranking military commander when there was a coherent military and I still remember all the codes and whatnot. This lets me drive around the remarkably New Zealandish looking U.S. in my monster, gas guzzling Death Semi doing pretty much what I please. To date, I've flattened seven uncooperative settlements and tortured the location of a sweet diesel stock pile out of a couple of civvies. I'm nigh-unstoppable.

SN: That does sound like a prime deal you have there, Commander. Hunter, they say you're a reclusive inventor type who raises chickens. Tell me a little more about your hobbies.

H: I don't much like hanging around people on account of being a lone hero archetype. That and the massive amounts of chicken shit I need to make methane to fuel my awesome dirt bike makes company…awkward. Chicken shit really stinks but it's incredibly versatile. I run my whole place off of methane powered stuff I designed with the help of my totally hetero guy pal Rusty. He's got a key to the house and comes and goes when he pleases, sometimes takes a chicken or two back to the settlement. You know.

SN: So many uses for chicken shit. Who knew! Alright gentlemen, are you ready to play (cue reverb) Warlords of the 21st Century?

CMDR S and H: Yes!

SN: Let's roll! First Question: You want your daughter to follow in your footsteps but she has other ideas. What do you do?

CMDR S: Cake question. I make her shoot a couple of helpful civvies and then we go back to the Death Semi for a candle lit dinner. Maybe I pipe a little Chopin through the sound system, possibly Mozart. It really depends on how successful the execution was.

H: Ummm…I'm really single. Lone hero archetype? Cabin in the woods? Chickens?

SN: OK then, I'm going to have to award the point to Commander Straker for actually answering the question despite the creepy Father Purity Pledge overtones. Question Two: A strange woman shows up at your place. What do you do?

CMDR S: Let the boys have her; we're pretty much an all male operation except for my daughter Corlie. None of the boys are good enough for my baby so there's a lot of frustration if you catch my drift.

H: I'd let her spend the night but then I'd take her right down to the settlement the next morning. She'd be happier surrounded with more people and less chickens. Of course if she were related to some crazy whack job who likes to drive his over armored, heavily weaponed, Death Rig through hard working villages just because he can, then I might have to fall in love with her and take a stand.

CMDR S: Don't you touch my daughter you glorified mountain farmer. The seed of my loins is destined to greatness while you make things out of chicken shit.

H: At least I create things and foster hope in people. You are all destruction and fear.

CMDR S: I get the job done boy. How do you think I found your little mountain hideaway? The one I ran over with my truck? I understand human nature and a judicious application of hot coals to appendages.

H: If you've hurt Rusty!

CMDR S: What? You going to take me on with your little chicken shit scooter? Bring it.

H: You are on!

SN: Gentlemen, we seem to have devolved into chaos here. Let's take a moment for commercial and we'll be right back. Hey, no running over the studio with the Death Truck!



(We're slowly chipping away at the backlog of our movie reviews. This one's for scodiddly who celebrated his birthday May 30th this year.)

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