Pranks for fools

And by candy-ass, we mean you, Jar Jar Binks.

And by candy-ass, we mean you, Jar Jar Binks.

If you’re looking for a shortlist of the fat cats responsible for the sorry state of Hollywood filmmaking, check out Vanity Fair’s list of the top movie-business moneymakers.

They’re all there—Spielberg, Bay, Emmerich, Cameron, Bruckheimer—shameless turd merchants whose unchecked budgets and crippling overindulgence have necessitated both higher ticket prices and the industrywide manufacture of lowest-common-denominator tripe.

We deserve our revenge, and if 1980s teen sex comedies have taught me anything, it’s that the only way to get it is through sadistic pranks. Here are a few humble suggestions:

• Call Skywalker Ranch and ask if they’re going to release a DVD version of the Star Wars prequels “without all of the candy-ass shit.”

• While James Cameron is sleeping, dunk one of his hands in warm water. That’s it—after Avatar, I just wanted James Cameron to pee all over himself.

• Call Steven Spielberg pretending to be the Texas Board of Education; tell him that due to recent curriculum changes, Schindler’s List will no longer be allowed in schools, but the Jurassic Park trilogy will be included as “part of the debate” on evolution. Then tell him to get Lucas to cut all the candy-ass shit out of Star Wars.

• Call Michael Bay pretending to be his CIA operative (code name: Product Placement). Convince him that Megan Fox is a North Korean robot (plausible) and Jerry Bruckheimer is a terrorist bent on destroying society (ditto). Send Bay across enemy lines to assassinate Kim Jong-il armed with only a bayonet and a pillbox of cyanide tablets. See if he buys it; if not, laugh and pretend it was an April Fools’ Day joke.

• Call George Lucas and ask if his refrigerator is running; when he says “yes,” tell him to cut all of the candy-ass shit out of Star Wars.