National Treasure Two

A while back, Matty, my personal biographer, was eating a Big Mac and trying to get over a massive hangover, when an ad for the new Nicolas Cage film National Treasure Part Two aired on TV.

"Who's going to watch that sack of ass crack?" He said. "Isn't there a Lorenzo Lamas movie somewhere?"

I shook my head in agreement.

"I saw it."

It was Mads, my Norwegian companion. He was sitting on my couch, reading James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake.

"You watched what, Finnegan's Wake?" I said.

"You mean National Treasure Part Two?"

"Yeah, what did I say?"

"Finnegan's Wake."

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, why did you see that movie. National Treausure Part Two, I mean."

"Because. I felt I needed someone to patronize me, you know? I needed to be told: 'you'll like this movie because it's got Nicolas Cage and it's got cool special FX and cool plot twists. You'll not only like this, but you'll tell your friends it's a "Fun Movie", and they'll go an see it because they're just as dumb.' You know what I'm saying? That's why I saw it. I needed to be dropped down a peg. Sometimes I need to be a sales figure, a merchandising projection, a potential first weekend gross, right? I want to feel like all I need is a not only a poor rip-off of Indiana Jones, but it's sequel, to entertain me. I wanna be bored by foreign films from the 50s because they not only have subtitles, but because they're in Black and White too, you know? Is that so bad? I watched National Treasure Part Two, because I think I deserve to be stupid too, right?"

Matty and I both squinted at him.

"You don't expect us to believe that, do you?" I said.

"I guess, not, but it was a good try, no?"