Don’t Call It a Comeback.

 It’s true. I’ve vacillated and whined and gotten drunk and forgot, but I will not be defeated. It’s as simple as this: Uwe Boll beat me, man. I watched Postal, thinking I was gonna be interesting and watch a movie that I knew would be terrible, but had actually gotten less than apocalyptic reviews, and it beat my resolve to write about movies (or anything else) into a bloody, weeping pile of flesh and powder. All this was followed by one of the worst movie summers in recent memories, and dude, I could only take so much. Well to hell with that, because I won’t be beaten. Sure, I’ll run away for most of a year, but I will return with a knife and the intent to slide a cowardly attack between my adversary’s shoulder blades. You heard right: I’m going to murder Uwe Boll.

 Ok, before any legal teams descend upon me, I must state for the record that I have no plans of committing murder, and in fact simply plan to write about movies and nerdy things.

 Even though I’m pretty sure someone’d give me a goddamn medal.