I was going to start off this article by saying that you couldn't pay me to sit through another Tolkien movie, but that's just not true: $25, plus food and drink, or best offer.

My pliability not withstanding, the fact remains that Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy has stolen away from me roughly 15 hours or so, at last count. Heavenly Creatures would've given me back 90 minutes, but The Frighteners cancels that right out, and Dead Alive is essentially a wash.

When I heard that the great Guillermo Del Toro had backed out of directing The Hobbit and that, not only was Jackson back in, but that Tolkien's slight novel would be divided into three parts, I quickly relegated my knowledge of the movie to that back part of my mind that remembers things like That '80s Show,Phish and the existence of Tamagotchis. These were things that surely had their admirers, but were simply not for me.

Add to that the appalling use of 48 frames per second technology, which is supposed to create the CLEAREST PICTURE EVER - as if that was a problem that begged to be solved - but instead renders images with a look known as the "soap opera effect," which creepily speeds everything up and makes it look fake fake fakeity fake.

Now, here, America, we find ourselves with the second installment of The Hobbit, subtitled, Desolation of Smaug. Are you happy? You gave Peter Jackson an inch and he took The Lovely Bones. And you STILL came begging for more. How much more green screen nonsense can he throw at your lucrative eyeballs before you wise up and send him back to schlocky horror town?

You know he wants to go as much as I want him to. He's like the guy in the relationship who doesn't have the guts to end it, so he just acts shitty until we break it off first, you know? Don't be a cliché! Be a strong, independent woman and end it right now! Only you can stop this monster from taking any more precious hours.

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