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(500) DAYS OF SUMMER - Aka… (700) Days in Detroit

By Old Dan Cedar - Posted on 26 July 2009

Your humble reviewer Old Dan Cedar took my female compadre, Bibs Detroit, to this movie, on Day 699 of our relationship.

No, I am not shoveling shit at you!!

Now, let Old Dan Cedar set the scene for you. I truly HATE going to art house theaters. Which, of course, is the only place (500) Days of Summer is playing at the moment. That will soon change due to the sheer greatness of this movie -much as happened last year with Slumdog Millionaire.

But, back to the previous digression from which I first deviated.
These neo-bohemian hangouts — tend to bring out the ‘coolest’ of the cool.
You know the types — these leftist elitists are as full of ‘ideas’ as of themselves.

I go to take a rectal whiz before the flick started. I make eye contact with NO ONE along the way. Besides our taste in movies — I have NOTHING in common with these folk. I am a closed-minded, jaded old, Libertarian bastard.
These fucks don’t even know what a Libertarian is.

Maybe, I shouldn’t be so quick to judge… and then, as I am pounding the porcelain with my anal piercing poo — I literally hear a conversation between two middle-aged, neo-hippie doofuses about how they can’t wait for an upcoming conference that Sonia Sotomayor will be attending.

Thank god I had the rhea. Quickly I finished my anal leakage, wiped while muttering to myself, “Yeah, the next time I get to meet a liberal, fat, fucking Supreme Court nominee — I think I will crow about it in the most stench-filled
6 X 8 foot area of a goddamned uptown movie theatre.”

One final wipe and quick peek to make sure than none of my butt juice has congregated on my Fruit of the Loom tighty whiteys.

Clear here.

The “Lips of the Left” had moved their conversation elsewhere. I am good to go.

Quickly I plan my escape back into the dimly lit theater and what, to my wondering ears, should I hear? Out in the lobby these two brain dead dipshits are still flapping their pie-holes. Of course, they are ordering a couple of cappuccinos at the bean bar — incessantly babbling on about the broken healthcare system….blah, blah, blah.

Let that be a lesson to you kids. There IS a reason for prejudging people.
It saves one the painstaking task of evaluating people one at a time.
Get me back to my supple, velvety, red, butt-pillow — and fast…

Although this is a big house — Seats are filling up.

Quickly I locate my little lady friend and notice that we have new neighbors.
Oh, Great!! Mr. and Mrs. Jupiter Cranium have touched down right in front of us.

Should we move?

Never mind — too late.
Movie is starting.
So — Take this review for what it is worth.
I could only see 1/3 of the screen.

I will take my revenge on you later, Mr. Large and Miss Marge.

(500) Days of Summer follows two twenty-somethings — Summer Finn (Zooey Deschanel) and Tom Levin (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) through the ups and downs of their — oddly enough – 500 day relationship.

Summer and Tom, we learn, have had very few relationships and none they would consider successful. Thus begins the inglorious throw-down that is the life of the non asexual.
We all know it’s hard.
In fact, this is why reclusive hermits like King Hippo become asexual.

Summer, the female love interest is out of the ordinary, flirtatious and vexing.
I quickly felt an affinity for her — being that she is a glass, half-empty kind of gal, much like Old Dan Cedar, yet we both cry at movies. She is cute, but not drop-dead. Her teeth are crooked and the hair on the back of her neck isn’t perfectly coifed.

Oh, and another little plus - she is not Meg Ryan, Jennifer Aniston, Julia Roberts or Sandra Fucking Bullock.

Tom, the boy infatuate, is a cock-eyed optimist that hasn’t let life beat him into complete submission, much like the lady that I am currently fornicating with, the previously referenced, Ms. Detroit.

Oh, and Bonus!! He is not played by Matthew McConaughey, Ben Stiller, or Ryan Fucking Reynolds.

Thanks for selling out and not fucking the greatness of this movie up with your presence, Assholes.

I won’t ruin the movie by spoiling anything for you, but Tom’s younger sister played by Chloe Moretz serves as his moral compass and, without being too cutesy, helps him come to grips with the reality of his relationship with Summer.

There are some hilarious moments, though. As I was slurping on my 32 ounce Big Red – one of those came about and I hurled forth a semi-guzzled spit-take that gave Mr. Jupiter Head a red eye similar to the circulating storm first observed by Galileo more than 400 years ago.

“Sorry about that sir. Here’s a beach towel!!

Maybe, I have watched too many WWII movies. But, it strikes me that relationships are a whole lot like war.

If they are successful – you look back on them with the grinning, whimsical, glorious days of youth. With snapshots in your mind of battles fought, victories won and losses overcome - together.

If they fail – you look back on the little things that began to go wrong early on, and blame yourself for not having seen those things sooner. And even though it jades you to future relationships, somewhere in the back of your mind, even though feelings become calloused and leathery….

When I meet a new lady, I ask myself, “What would Patton have to say about this situation?” Hmmm…

Patton: “Thirty years from now, when you're sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you, "What did you do in the great World War II," you won't have to say, "Well... I shoveled shit in Louisiana.”

Now, I never fought in WWII and actually, I have never shoveled shit or anything else in Louisiana, but she’s cute, smart and funny as shit, ahhhh, what the hell!!

Such is the overarching tale of Tom and Summer - journeying through the highs and lows of young love.
Is it fate?
Is there such a thing as true love?
And of course - Timing is everything.

So, as I write this review on the 700th day of entering the city limits.

I am not perfect, but these things I can promise.

I won’t drag you across east Texas, robbing banks and killing folks, like Bonnie and Clyde.
I won’t become a media mogul, run for governor and become a reclusive asshole like Citizen Kane, and then have a movie made using my nickname for your love tunnel as a sled that I used to ride when I was an innocent, young boy.

And I won’t slap you across the face and tell you that I don’t want any pussies in MY army - like General George Patton did.

With those taken as my most sincere promises, I ask, quite humbly and in all sincerity, Bibs Detroit, will you marry me?

P.S. I am happy to report that Bibs accepted my proposal.

If this all ends in a hail of gunfire, you can say, "Well, Old Dan, I guess you had it comin'. And I will say in that crusty old William Munny way, "We all got it comin' kid."

Then I will haunt your cold hearted ass, and do my best to speak with whatever deity that I am sure as hell going to run into down under. I will whisper in his ear to make sure that you live to be 103 years old, with Alzheimers, Parkinson's and ALS — surrounded by the ownly friend that is always by your side. Your own pool of urine.

As the great Dalai Lama enthusiast Richard Gere said, "It's called Karma, Boy George"!!

I am the luckiest son of a bitch that ever walked the face of the earth. I have two great sons, and soon to be stepdaughter. I write for the absolute worst website in the world and I am marrying a beautiful, funny, scientist.

Now back to my rickety old self. We don't want any fucking presents. This includes money, drugs or hugs!! If you want to come hang out with us, that is cool!! The date is February 13, 2010. There will be a band in the driveway trying to ward off ugly people. If it hasn't been outlawed by then, maybe we can share a peach cigar! If you're REAL lucky, I might just get on stage, pass out some hankies and belt out a little tune by Bette Midler.

Thanks for the best wishes.

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