My Great Review of Twilight: Eclipse

How's it going, you collection of tree-hugging limousine liberals, pinko Commies, dope fiends, queerbaits, ladyboys, fat chicks, feminazi castrators, and assorted freaks?

So, my niece Sierra's birthday was last weekend, and all she wanted was her old Uncle Butch to take her to the movies to see that new Twilight film. Now, you know I would have just preferred to buy her a damn Barbie doll or whatever 14-year-old girls like, but she wanted to go to the movies. It worked out okay, since my friend Dick Balzac just traded me some gift certificates to the cineplex for some weed.

Anyways, so I picked her up on Saturday afternoon and we head over there. First up, we hit the snack bar, because Sierra wanted some Jar Jar Beez, and I just had to get me a hot dog, 'cuz you know how much I love wrapping my lips around a footlong. It wasn't too long before I was pissed off, though, because some dumbass kid bumped into me and spilled his diet Mt. Dew all down my Jordaches. Hey, this shit is vintage! Then the Matre D wanted to see our tickets. How the hell am I supposed to balance a tub of popcorn, two drinks, my 'dog, and nachos and whip out my fucking tickets? Shit like this is why I don't go to the movies anymore.

We get inside the theater and it's a total clambake in there. The only free seats we could find were in the front row, which made the movie like IMAX but without any dolphins or Keanu Reeves. The trailers start and some of them look good enough that I'm almost starting to rethink my hatred of theaters. Sorcerer's Apprentice with American legend Nicolas Cage looks totally kick-ass. And I frankly can't wait to see Piranha 3-D. I have a soft spot—hard to believe, I know (Butch ain't all muscle, ladies)—for piranha; I used to raise them back in the 80s. There was also some trailer for a Will Ferrell/Marky Mark action epic. Also, that dude who made all them Batman movies made some shit about bending buildings. I don't know what the fuck that is supposed to be about. There was also something about a German Shepherd with a jetpack. Probably sucks.

But anyway, the movie finally starts and most everyone shuts up and I can finally eat my nachos in peace.

Now, I hadn't seen the first two movies, and I sure as shit ain't read the books, so I had no goddamn idea what was going on. Best I can tell, Rod Stewart plays a teenage girl who's caught in a love triangle with a dog and a 600-year-old corpse. And the dog is all getting up in her grill when she doesn't want him to, which is bad enough, but the corpse is all, "Let's get married even though you're like twelve, and I'll turn you into an immortal and shit."

Now, listen, my ex-wife/fiancée Tammy will be the first one to tell you that I don't know shit about romantical stuff, but one thing I do know is that becoming a corpse because you want to spend the rest of all heckified eternity with some other bozo is a stupid fucking idea. The only thing even stupider is picking that person when you're a teenager and your hormones are racing around like Dale Earnhardt, Jr. on methamphetamines. If I'd settled down all eternal-like with my high school sweetheart, I'd be with a woman who, if Classmates.com can be trusted, now works for the son-of-a-bitchin' DEA. No thank you!

I mean, don't get me wrong—I dig her mullet and all, but if I'd got all corpsed-up for her in freaking high school, I never would have met my soul mate Tammy.

The point is this: You do lots of embarrassing crap when you're a kid. You wouldn't believe the stuff I did when I was young and stupid.


And I'm pretty sure that still ain't as regrettable as permanently hitching yourself to a 600-year-old glittery corpse who's probably a huge fag.

Anyways, also in this movie Rod Stewart has a bunch of goth angst about whether she should do it with Corpse Boy. It's so stupid and fake—and I'm not even talking about the sparkly gay vampires. I'm talking about the fact that every red-blooded American broham knows it ain't the goth girls who equivocate (word-a-day calendar! HIGH FIVE!) about doing it. They either do it or they don't, man. It's the weirdo Christian chicks with their high-falutin' ideas about purity and premarital sex being the work of the goddamn devil who whine all the time about whether they should do it. This movie got it all wrong.

The factual inaccuracies were making me real agitated, so I decided to go out to the lobby for a smoke. And wouldn't you know it!—those liberal fascists on the city fuckin' council have banned smoking in theaters or some shit. DAMN that secondhand smoke hoax really burns me up. So this kid comes up to me and tells me to put my shit out. Oh just because you have a uniform and name tag on, Cody, doesn't make you better than me. Like I haven't seen you doing doughnuts in the Aldi's parking lot like 200 times.

Anyways, I put my cigarette out because I don't want to go to jail because I was with Sierra and I didn't want to ruin her birthday and shit. Punk don't know how lucky he got. I still gave him the Eye of the Tiger, just for good measure.

You know, if I was on the city council, crap like this wouldn't happen.

Anyways, I go back into the theater and they hassle me again about my ticket. Dude, I was just here! You know that guy remembers me from before. Hope you enjoyed your little power trip, loser! Don't forget your BAGGAGE!

So, also in this movie, that dog keeps mooning over Rod Stewart, and she's all, "I don't love you. Wait, now I love you. But I love Corpse Boy more. Kiss me. Don't kiss me! I love you, but I'm dumping you." I need a neckbrace to deal with this chick and the dog's relationship, because bitches are giving me whiplash!

And, honestly, I don't know if you femifarts are rubbing off on me (that's what she said!) or what, but all's I could think was that it was kinda fucked up my teenage niece was watching a movie that sort of made it look like all of this fucked-up relationship stuff was, like, cool and kinda sexy. It made me uncomfortable.

I'm gonna have to talk to my brother Buck about letting Sierra see shit like this. I really think she should be watching good, old-fashioned teen fare like Porky's.

After the show, I decided to take Sierra to McDonald's for a birthday dinner. Kids like that crap, right? Anyways, we get there and I can't find my wallet, so I have to go back to the theater. Good news is I find my wallet. Bad news is I spilled nacho fucking cheese all over it. Are you fucking kidding me?

Just FYI, nacho cheese will stain alligator leather.

Pornstache: Out.

[Previously by Butch Pornstache: Happy Taxes and Teabags Day, I'm a Proud Teabagger and Real American, Men and Trucks and Shit, Cats and Shit, Books and Cupcakes and Shit, Ron Swanson Kicks Butt, Dale Peterson is a Great American, I'm a Man and I Enjoy Mancations. Pamela Gorman is a Great American, Fireworks and Shit.]