A confession: for reasons that defy all comprehension, the wife and I actually spent time yesterday watching--o my heart--Jason X. Yes, that would be Friday the 13th Mows Down Teen Space Meat, its lesser-known working title. Why did we do this? I don't know; we were free to leave, take a walk, go get a drink, make love, conquer small equatorial dictator states, anything but watch that movie. But watch it we did.

Trying to describe it is a useless affair. I mean, the best scene in the movie featured good old Jason beating a girl to death in her sleeping bag using another girl in another sleeping bag to bludgeon her on a campground. But then you'll say, "In space?" And I'll have to mumble something stupid about holograms, and you'll say, "So he's killing fake women? Who cares?" And I'll reply, "You know who's been pissing me off lately? Equatorial dictator states."

I don't think I'll be impressing anyone by saying that I was a few steps ahead of this movie. At one point, some soldier idiots are trying to track Jason down, and are, unfortunately for them of course finding him. One guy I see walk by a gigantic vertical augur-bit thing (because in THE FUTURE people will have DUMB ARCHITECTURAL IDEAS that people like filmmakers don't feel the need to EXPLAIN), and I say, "You know that guy is going to wind up impaled on that stupid-ass thing." Duh. Three minutes later, Jason has tossed him onto the bit like a crudite, and with that loving gore-porn kind of tracking shot, I'm treated to him slowly spinning down the bit. Moments later, he is discovered and reported by another female corpse-to-be, and the commander asks his condition. "Screwed!" I howl. "He's screwed," the aspiring cadaverette dutifully repeats. "I could write these things!" I yell, and then realize that this is the artistic equivalent of claiming to have mastered the gas pump.

It must be said that the Friday the 13th movies more or less adhere to Joe Bob Briggs' dictum regarding sequels: If you're going to make a sequel, make the exact same movie all over again. Ft13 has taken pains not to mess with this structure: gather a bunch of hot youngsters (please include one stoner dolt), one or two older adults (who will be stupid and evil) and a virtuous heroine. Make sure everyone gets good and poled early on in the film except the virtuous heroine just so everyone remembers that hearty fucking = a well-deserved death. Then mixmaster everyone into pate except the virtuous heroine and maybe one other person, before the final ambiguous ending showing the "death" of our Favorite Unkillable Goalie. I assume these films really give our Canadian friends up north the shrieking whim-whams. I'm surprised they haven't sent Jason to Flin Flon yet. Jason Pucks Shit Up. Or Highschticking.

Jesus. I may have my first screenplay here. What the fuck am I doing pumping gas?