Communal bafflement, ARMAGEDDON (40)

I believe you would refer to Seattle as a "winter wonderland" these days. For whatever reason the great gods of weather decided to drop eight inches of icy delight on the Emerald City and can I just say, "What the fuck?" I've lived in Seattle for most of my life, through wind storms and sputtering little snow squalls, but this, this is a true, honest-to-God blizzard. My steps are a dangerously snowy slide; Big Secord can't stop talking about snowball fights, snowmen, and sledding (the little guy just can't get enough of all that snow); the faces of your average Seattle citizen is marked with one potent emotion:

Bafflement.

Oh yeah, this city is absolutely one hundred percent confused. It is an impressive site to see this little 'burg, so used to driving rains and temperate forecasts struggle through a massive snowplosion. People are still trying to ride bikes, they're timidly huddling in small groups, there's a grumpy sort-of "screw you" look on everyone's faces - it's a beautiful thing. But let us remember good folk of Seattle, we might be completely screwed, we might be facing a cold, wintry apocalypse like none other that's come before, we might be harboring six or seven orphaned guests each this white winter, but we're all in it together. I know, I know, it's hard for us Northwesterners to abandon our passive-aggressive urban apathy, but it's a desolate icy wasteland on these streets of ours, and we need to look out for each other. Sure, I might peg you in the face with a hard-packed snow dagger, but I'm going to help you up afterwards and give you a napkin to staunch your bleeding face. It's the holiday season ladies and gents, lets try to show it.

Armageddon (40) is just the same schlocky, gigantic, plotless end-of-the-world movie you remember from high school. Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck and a host of other pretty famous people are recruited to save the planet from a world-ending asteroid plummeting towards the Earth. A lot of preposterous things happen (including the awful Aerosmith cover "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" - a song I played on repeat when I was in seventh grade) and in the end this is just another big budget turd from the master of such Michael Bay. The essay for this film claims that Bay has created the modern action film, but I give that credit to my man Sam Peckinpah. Bay is just a flashy film-dork, who's got more money than Jesus and a hankering to keep on adding to the pile. You've seen this film, and if you really feel like checking it out again, I'll give you my copy.

Tuesday: I have no idea.