My eyes are no one shade of color, they are a hypnotic starburst capable of stopping and or starting human wars. While what people see looking into them may inspire spontaneous panty combustion, what I see looking out is more mucked up than THE FOG remake. So, LASIK it is. In two days I will be going under the optical knife.
I’m going all laser – no razor blade flap cutting for me – so there are fine odds I’ll be A OK, but, for the sake of argument, let us operate under the assumption that I will go blind on Thursday following a FINAL DESTINATION-ized chain of mishaps leading to a broom handle turning the machine’s power knob to GigaLaser. That means whatever I watch on Wednesday will be the last movie I ever see. And I gotta tell ya’, there wasn’t too much of a debate going on. I know full well what I would love it to be.
The Oscar Nominated STARSHIP TROOPERS may just be the last movie I’ll ever see. I declare with a clear conscious that were you to hop in with Doc Brown, kick it up to 88 miles per hour and ask my younger self what the greatest movie ever made was, there would be zero hesitation. While I’ve added on candles to the cake, I’ve knowledged up enough to realize TROOPERS is not the pinnacle of cinema, but it’ll take more than taste to peel the cold, cardboard, talentless hand of Johnny Rico from heart.