December 2nd, 2006


Chronicles of Riddick

OK, I call bullshit.

I can put off all the stylish, artsy, bad-sociology, weird-science stuff, and the Riddick Is Jesus Mithras In the Dark, but ... the prison planet.
When dawn comes along, the intense heat causes the very air itself to explode in flames.

Uh, no. Where does the oxygen come from? Where does the breathable air come from at all?

My suspenders of disbelief just went SPROING.
  • Current Mood
    giggly Snarky

out in the real world

For a change I left the house. I didn't note whether today or tomorrow or next saturday will be the prayer chain's potluck. I made successful peanut brittle today so I will do more for the party; it was the specialty of a lovely lady who died suddenly last year.

I took some over to the Wehlitz's, and visited a bit. They did not topple over dead after eating it so it must be safe.

I will be going to the Oregon Chorale's performance tonight, so am hanging out in the endlessly thrilling Forest Grove until time to gather for that.