At first glance, I thought if this doesn't warm your heart, nothing can: The estate of J.R.R. Tolkien is suing New Line Cinema for $150 million in royalties and compensatory damages, claiming the studio hasn't paid any of the 7.5% they own the Tolkiens of the over $6 billion in gross box office the Lord of the Rings film trilogy has earned worldwide.
I was so bored by the first Lord of the Rings film that I nearly died in my theater seat, so this sounded like great news at first. But then I realized there wasn't as much to be happy about as I first thought. So the guys who made the movies are getting taken to court for hundreds of millions of dollars. By whom? The estate of the overrated hack writer who ripped off the whole elf-infested cycle from Wagner in the first place? I mean sure, fuck New Line. Fuck New Line all day long — but fuck Tolkien, too!
So who am I to root for in this case? If only there were some way that New Line could counter-sue, and then the judge could find for and against both sides simultaneously, effectively ruling them both into oblivion forever, and sparing manking (and myself, specifically) from having to hear about that fucking film of The Hobbit, which you know they're going to get around to eventually.
And could a megabudgeted adaptation of The Silmarillion be far behind? God save us from Tolkien geeks.
. . .
In an unrelated story, I'm posting this from the computer lab at HCC while Ashley's computer is having power supply problems. This obnoxious asshole was just sitting next to me, yakking on his cell phone while applying for unemployment online. (That's what he was talking on the phone about, so that's how I know.) It sounded like he was talking to someone he had met through a dating service or something, because he asked really insipid questions like "Do you like music?" which he then answered for himself like, "I like all music, except jazz and blues."
That's what he said. He even repeated it several times. "I like all music except jazz and blues." All music, except jazz and blues. Nevermind what that says about his taste — all music? He likes qawwali? He likes the mournful tones of the shakuhachi? He likes sitar music? He enjoys the work of Swedish doom metal pioneers Candelmass? Everything, really — just not jazz and blues.
He just got up and walked out, still chatting away on his phone. I hope he trips and falls down the stairs.