I Ain't Scurred of No Snakes ...

Among the things I did over the weekend included going to see Snakes On A Plane, that new Samuel L. Jackson movie (I prefer not to use the word flick because that makes it sound like porn with snakes, which it might as well have been but that's a story for another day).

I didn't really care to see it. But I needed something to do, and I figured since I onced owned a snake (you learn new ish about me every day if you read), I owed a debt to blow $8 on this film, Snakes On A Plane.

"What kind of a title is that," a friend of mine recently said. "Couldn't they have been more creative."

I don't know. All I know is that I laughed at maybe the most inappropriate time, but for probably the most appropriate reason. Let me explain.

Remember Deep Blue Sea, the movie where one black man (Sam Jack's character) died while reaching the crescendo of a high and mighty speech because a super smart shark decide to have SamJack as his salad and not his entree? Yeah, that one.

Snakes in a Plane harbored a moment just like that. Sam Jack on his high and mighty, on a plane full of crazy ass snakes, and all I could do was hope that one would snatch his ass up and bite the shit out of him like the super smart shark did. But it never happened.

I just bugged up for no reason because it was a perfect moment for that to happen. I don't care if SamJack was the main attraction in this film. It woulda been the equalizer.

Anyways, It was an OK film. If I had to give it up to five stars, it would get three for its entertainment value and that's it. No more because no ungrateful person would unleash that mainly deadly snakes on a plane.

Oh my God, I hope Osama and his friends don't have a movie theater or a bootlegging hustler anywhere near. (and I'm serious)