Yes, Gentle Readers, it's raining like a cow whizzing on a flat rock.
So. Plan B. Chris, Tole and I took the opportunity to steal a page from our misspent youth, drove over to Deepinahearta, and spent the afternoon camped out in a movie theatre.
We saw 10,000 BC first.
Allow me, Gentle Reader, to reach down deep for the exact words to properly describe this move:
Yes, I think that fits the bill rather nicely. Be aware that:
HERE BE SPOILERS!
First off, allow me to state that I hate "prophecy". Prophecy as a plot device has been over-used to the point that it left "Hackneyed" laying in the dust several miles back. The mere mention of the word "prophecy" in a movie is more than enough reason for me to hit the "eject" button, climb into the DogMobile, drive all the way back to the movie rental store and demand my money back.
And, you know, bad as I hate "prophecy", Chris hates it even worse. I'm talking immediate use of the DVD as a skeet target, longships manned, monasteries getting burned down, pillaging, burning, rioting, crushing, driving and de vimmen lamenting.
Man has a real mad on when it comes to "prophecy" as a plot device.
Of course, 10,000 BC had not one, but four -- count 'em, four -- prophecies.
In addition to the hackneyed use of a hackneyed plot device, the director and/or writer of this movie maybe didn't pay as much attention during history class as one might expect. Kind of slept their way through geography, too. Not to mention Ag class.
We start out in an idyllic glacier-carved valley full of sodding snow. There is plot development, blah, blah, more plot development -- oh, look! I didn't realize Rob Zombie had a supporting role!
Our peaceful existence as mammoth-hunters is abruptly intruded upon by four-legged demons who raid the village, capturing slaves, setting huts on fire and slaughtering everyone!
The audience, of course, realizes immediately that the "four-legged demons" are horse-riding raiders.
About 6000 years before horses were, you know, domesticated, but what the hell. And their raiding-fu sucks as bad as their chronology, because -- near as I can tell -- the big, bad professional raiding slavers managed to slaughter exactly one person in the village. One.
Of course one of the handful of captives was the chastely lusted-after putative Schmoopie of Our Hero.
No one saw that one coming.
So -- despite being certain that the raiders were, in fact, you know, demons -- Our Hero and Rob Zombie decide to head out after them with one red shirt for back-up. After telling Pre-Pubescent Amusing Kid that he can't come along.
Over hill we go. Over dale. Surprise! Pre-Pubescent Amusing Kid snuck along! Who the hell saw that one coming?!
Off dale into jungle, where Our Heroes (and Rob Zombie) are attacked by Giant Terror Chickens! Whose remains have only been found in South America, mind you.
Out of the jungle, into savanna! Our hero comes across a sabre-toothed cat and
We stumble across one big-arsed river! We recruit allies! We march in circles in one big-arsed desert until Our Hero remembers that the North Star never moves! Huzzah! And we follow Our Hero North -- no, wait. In 10,000 BC, Polaris (the North Star) was actually somewhere closer to the equator. Never mind.
So, we follow ... something .. and we come out of the desert at--
Remember the South American Chickens From Hell? American Fang-faced Cat? Glacier-carved mountains and valleys? Of course you do. So, when we come out of the big-arsed desert, we find --
The Sphinx (carved probably about 2500 BC) and the Great Pyramid (about 2500 BC). Bloody Egypt.
Bet you didn't realize that the great Pyramid was built using woolly mammoths as pack animals, did you?
About that time I gave up all hope. Rob Zombie (the prehistoric mammoth hunter) dispatched three trained soldiers armed with metal weapons (metal-working -- 6000 BC, only four sodding thousand years too early) with a bone spear and apparently a working familiarity with Chinese kung-fu spear technique.
Alas, his prehistoric martial arts teacher neglected lessons on 1) Never Turning Your Back On An Foe; and
2) Making Damned Sure The Dead Bastard Is Really Dead.
Of course, Rob's Dying Last Words, instead of being something along the lines of, "Damn it, why didn't I make sure the last one was dead?! I can't believe that I'm dying because I was stupid!" actually were carefully chosen to Inspire Our Hero To Take Up His Destiny. And all that rot.
I'm being serious here! It was either the mammoths, or Our Heros tribal shaman back in the village in the glacier carved valley, but one of the two hauled off and resurrected the very dead, got-an-arrow-through-the-back, passed on, no more, metabolic-processes-are-history Schmoopie.
Finally, Our Hero gets to kiss his Schmoopie, many cheers, and Our Hero and Schmoopie get the Grand Send-off back through desert. Savanna. Jungle full of Giant Killer Chickens. Mountains. With a handful of grain -- and sodding corn -- to take back to their valley.
Yes, you read that right -- corn. The sodding locals in sodding Egypt give Our Hero ... corn. In Egypt. In 10,000 BC.