An Alfred E. Newman-faced Rorschach (or is it a Rorschach-bodied Alfred E. Newman?) graces the cover of MAD Magazine this month, and, having somehow not yet reached full Watchmen saturation, I eagerly gave it a read. And, while MAD-tastically silly, the magazine’s movie parody (“Botchmen”) committed a crime I now realize is …

Look, Diablo Cody is making a zombie movie! That tears it. (Takes off hat and stomps on it.)

At first I thought it was a sequel to Juno, where Dwight Schrute eats that chick’s brain … my hopes are dashed. It’s an adaption of a novel called Breathers: A Zombie’s Lament:

Not that Moore ever went away. But it makes for a better headline.

It’s funny, with all the fuss over Watchmen, you’d almost get the impression that Moore wasn’t still around and writing. Because he’s not participating, everybody sort of talks about him like he’s dead. And I did wonder after the surreal, semi-apocalyptic ending of …

I’m a little embarrassed that I’ve rewatched the Transformers 2 trailer a few times:

I liked the part where the humans died.

There are reasonable odds that the trailer, by virtue of its awesomeness and brevity, will be better than the actual movie — as if Michael Bay were mounting a deconstruction of the patriarchal dominance …

There is a press blackout on reviewing the Watchmen movie until March 6. However, I’ve seen the movie, and I’m not press. Don’t worry, I’m not going to write a review of Watchmen. What I am going to write about is the emotional experience of seeing a piece of literature with which I have an intense personal connection LITERALLY COME

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