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apocalypsosWell, I needed a little time off from NaNo (second week blues ... you know how it is), so I started the Category 7: The End of the World recap.
I'd just like to state for the record that I'd like to thank the producers for giving this the secondary title of "The End of the World" because it's pretty safe to assume with that that we just won't be getting any more sequels. Damn! (And for the record, parts one and two of Category 6: Day of Destruction.)
Category 7: The End of the World
Part One
We open in Paris, France, which is being hit by a monster thunderstorm. (Or as Bill O'Reilly likes to call it, "being boycotted by God.") Off we go to a carnival, because I don't know about you, but when thunder and lightning are streaking across the sky, I feel the need to ride a Ferris wheel while inhaling cotton candy.
A hot young American couple win a prize and dance around. Oh, good, Americans. It's not a real disaster unless some Americans die, you know what I mean? Some Australian soccer players (I think, if the uniform shirts are any indication) run through the crowd like assholes knocking over a mime and the pretty blond American girl. Okay, on review after writing that last part of the sentence, strike "like assholes."
Off at the Extreme Weather Lab in Washington D.C. (which you can only go get to by base-jumping off the Washington Monument into the Reflecting Pool), a dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt comes running in and tells another dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt to call somebody named Ross. The second dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt says the first one has Ross's number, while a third dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt announces there are supercells all over France. Holy cow! Identical triplet extreme meteorologists! When the hell am I ever going to see that again? It's like a scavenger hunt!
And it's back to the Meteorological Ministry in France, except obviously the name of the building's in French, but since the extent of my French involves the lyrics to "Lady Marmalade", I'm not going to bother screwing up the spelling. Suffice it to say I would. Cameron Daddo stands before a room full of old guys and tells them that Las Vegas, St. Louis, and Chicago have all been destroyed by monster storms lately. Some French guy asks if he's proposing that the same thing could happen in France. Cameron Daddo assures him that it could, because as a large metropolitan city in a disaster movie, they're pretty much just asking for natural smiting.
Meanwhile, people are climbing the Eiffel Tower. During a thunderstorm. You know, the kind with lightning. This is like a Darwin Lifetime Achievement Award just waiting to happen. The Australian soccer players climb to the top and lean over the side to laugh at the French. You know, like you do.
At the Extreme Weather Lab, the Extreme Triplets can't get in touch with Cameron Daddo. There's a crack in here about the Triplets being much like his agent for the past few years, but I'll be polite this time.
At the French carnival, the mime runs for cover, presumably right into an invisible box.
The lightning gets worse, and everybody goes flailing down the steps of the Eiffel Tower, except of course the Australian soccer players. Five minutes in and I'm already wishing for a hungry dinosaur invasion. That's not right.
At the Meteorological Ministry, somebody asks if these storms will hit Paris and the rest of Europe. "Not just Europe," Cameron Daddo says. "This is a global crisis." Yes! Hear me, people of Earth! All of your major metropolitan areas are forfeit! RAAAAAAGE!
In the streets of Paris, people make with the screaming and Muppet arms. Stupid French people. See if we ride in and shoot at those tornadoes for you now. Hmph.
On the Eiffel Tower, the Australian soccer players are being slurped up by the storm.
One of the Extreme Triplets gets Cameron Daddo on the phone and tells him to go to the window. Uh, wouldn't it just be a better idea to tell him, "The weather's not good, trust us, you might all want to go to the basement WITHOUT going near a window"? Just a thought. Cameron Daddo looks out the window, then calls everybody over, and my GOD, we get it already. Would you dopes go take shelter already? Sheesh!
The carnival gets walloped. The mime is still in danger. And this large terrifyingly cackling clown's head decoration is still in one piece. At the Meteorological Ministry, Cameron Daddo says, "It's worse than Chicago." Well, yeah. 'Chicago' didn't have that creepy-as-fuck clown, although it did have Renee Zellweger with frighteningly pale makeup, so I can understand your confusion.
The clown's head takes off flying. NOOOOO! Pennywise, come back! I know you all float down here, but you don't have to prove it! Really, I believe you!
The Eiffel Tower gets eaten by the storm. I'm starting to believe that this isn't a worldwide storm, but is in fact a giant monster that only eats national monuments. The Australian soccer players, meanwhile, fly off into the distance.
Back at the Meteorological Ministry, Cameron Daddo and his band of merry old Frenchman watch as the huge clown's head flies through the air and slams into the window. It heads across the room where it hits a random French guy, cackling all the while. How'd you like that in your obituary? "Jacques died today at the age of 65 when a gigantic clown's head ate him." Cameron Daddo looks out the window and announces they're out of time.
And now it's back to D.C. and Federal Protective Services, whatever the hell that is. A really hot guy who looks vaguely familiar runs into a meeting and is told by the guy in charge (who calls him Carr) that just because he can run fast, it's no excuse for being late. Carr looks not the least bit apologetic as the Head Guy goes on about how we just got stomped by a Category 6 storm and it's worse than 9/11 and I'm sorry, but I'm totally distracted by the blond chick furrowing her brow in such a way as to look exactly like Julie Benz in her Darla makeup. Smile, princess. No one likes the passably undead.
Head Guy tells everybody they're covering everybody else's asses (wait, whose asses?) and that he's cancelling vacations. Everybody groans, because they all planned those weekends in Las Vegas months in advance. Oh, wait ...
Head Guy walks over to Carr, who makes some bullshit excuse before Head Guy stops him and tells him he wants to congratulate Carr's sister, who just got made director of FEMA. Carr makes a crack about that making her happy. Wait for it ...
Off at the White House, the press secretary introduces their Homeland Security guy, who's Schanke from Forever Kinght. Director Schanke blathers on about the disaster before introducing the new FEMA director ... Gina Gershon. There are so many jokes right there. Hell, there are so many jokes you could make right now. Let's form a line to the left, and everybody who's got a Gina-Gershon-as-FEMA-director joke can just get it off their chest. (For the record ... booby tassles. I don't feel I need to elaborate, except to say ... booby tassles. Because it's a fun phrase to say, whether or not you're for or against them. Heh. I said "against them" about booby tassles.)
Director Schanke compliments the hell out of Gina Gershon. (And who wouldn't, really? Have you seen her play poker? Heh. I said "poker.") Then Gina Gershon comes up to speak, making a crack about Director Schanke revealing her secret identity as Wonder Woman. Okay, who do I have to pay to see her in a Wonder Woman costume?
... I swear, I'm a heterosexual woman. (Last time I checked, anyway.)
Director Schanke wanders off to talk to his flunkies about how they hired her because she'll look good on camera when she crashes and burns. Some reporter stands up and asks Gina Gershon if she got the job because her father is a senator. Well, it's nice to know we're past the days when fake reporters would have asked if she got the job for having a vagina. Gina Gershon says something about her father being in the controlling party (NOOO! Sprung from a Republican's loins!) then says it's a crappy time to take over FEMA, but what the hell?
Off at the fake Reflecting Pool in front of the fake Washington Monument, fake ducks take flight. No, I don't get it, either.
At FEMA headquarters, everybody is going fucking batshit. It's a state of mind they're growing rather comfortable in. I hear there's talk of putting up curtains. Gina Gershon stalks in and says instead of picking up the pieces, they're going to start predicting the weather. Sorry, Weather Channel, it was nice knowing you. Some tiny Asian girl asks what Gina Gershon plans on doing about the weather. She says they'll find someone who's got a good theory of what'll happen next and they'll listen to him. I've got a good guess that another big fucking storm will show up. Do I get a turn to speak?
Gina Gershon also mentions that Homeland Security wants FEMA to take care of the government first in case of a disaster, to keep terrorists from striking. Because terrorists are immune to severe weather and can lug out a nuke to the middle of the National Mall while fending off his winds with their Tornado Repellent. Hell, I don't know.
Later, the same girl from before who was bugging Gina Gershon walks into her office and tells her she fucked the last director's assistant. No, really, this is important. 'Cause, see, Cameron Daddo wrote this huge gigantic-storm-predicting weather manifesto (with a booklet-sized magnetic map of the United States and tiny little magnetic funnel clouds) and the government edited out all the good parts, which Tiny Slutty Asian Girl's ex-fuckbuddy shredded. Except, you know, for the copy she found down her shirt that one time they did it on the director's desk after walking his dog. ... What? What'd I say? She gives Gina Gershon the Fucking Director's Cut, and Gina Gershon manages to restrain herself from giggling like a schoolgirl.
Director Schanke's off playing pool when Gina Gershon shows up in her stuffy suit with the Fucking Director's Cut in her hands and tells Director Schanke that Cameron Daddo predicted everything about the huge Category 6 storm, including the locations. Did he predict that the storm subsists solely on tourist attractions? Because that would be some mad predicting skillz. Director Schanke tells her to lay off the Fucking Director's Cut until they get more data. Gina Gershon shuts her mouth and refrains from asking Director Schanke if it would be even better if the Fucking Director's Cut included quotes like, "A gigantic tornado will strike down at the corner of 9th and West and suck up the following people ..."
Later, Gina Gershon sits at home watching the news as they show footage of a tornado eating the Mall of America. Touche, monument-devouring menace. Oh, touche. Some dorky yet adorable guy walks in and makes a crack about -- hey, wait, is that supposed to be her kid? Are we supposed to believe Gina Gershon's loins produced such nerdy fruit? Okay, fine, whatever. Inevitably, we're subjected to two minutes of excrutiating exposition being crammed down our throats -- Dorky Son is dating Cameron Daddo's daughter, Gina Gershon knew Cameron Daddo in college, they argue when they get together in some thinly veiled sexual chemiistry that is going to lead to quasi-incestuous dating of DOOOOM. I can see it now. Dorky Son goes to bed, leaving Gina Gershon to barely keep herself from nuzzling Cameron Daddo's file. An no, that's not a euphemism, although I'll bet those two would make pretty, pretty euphemism.
Gina Gershon calls Tiny Slutty Asian Girl and asks her if a secret mission would appeal to you. Tiny Slutty Asian Girl says, "Do I have a Japanese kitty tattooed on my butt?" Gina Gershon: "I'll ... uh, take that as a yes to both questions." *snickers*
Later, Tiny Slutty Asian Girl gets out of her car and runs up in the rain to pound on Cameron Daddo's door. No, Tiny Slutty Asian Girl! Don't go out in the rain! If Lost has taught me anything, it's that going out in heavy downpours is the easiest way to get shot by the mentally unstable. Cameron Daddo comes to the door, hears Tiny Slutty Asian Girl tell him that the FEMA director liked the Fucking Director's Cut and wants to talk to him off the record, and is almost onboard until she mentions Gina Gershon's name. Cameron Daddo tells her to get out of the rain.
He goes back into his house to find a young blonde chick -- who I imagine is his daughter -- who tells him that she's sure he did the right thing. Another woman, just the right age to be his wife, asks if she heard someone knocking. Cameron Daddo claims it was a wrong address. Wait, aren't we getting FEMA Director/Fucking Director's Cut Author romance out of this movie? Aw, man.
On a TV screen, James Brolin in a white suit, white hair, and the brightest caps I've seen outside of There's Something About Mary stands in front of a pulpit and tells everybody they don't need to face these horrible times alone. Swoosie Kurtz pops up and adds that people should give in this time of need. Then she and James Brolin cuddle, thereby testing my gag reflex in the least fun way possible. A reporter, who's tiny and cute and female, watches in a newsroom somewhere and tries not to gag just as hard as I did. Let it come, sweetie. Just let it come. Carr shows up out of nowhere with a bottle of champagne and asks how she can watch this crap. Cute Reporter says she hates people who use God to rip other people. What a prophetic line! It sort of brings to mind a wacky version of, "What came first, the chicken or the asshole?"
Carr pours Cute Reporter some champagne and says maybe she can interview them and get out of the graveyard (i.e., the obituary department). "The reporter's credo ... comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable," Carr says as they toast. That's funny -- three years as a journalism major and I never heard that. Then again, I wasn't a very good journalism major. Cute Reporter starts to make out with him and notices a scrape on his neck. He brushes it off, but between this and the throwaway line from Head Guy before about him pistolwhipping a jaywalker or whatever it was, we're supposed to think he's hardcore.
At a coffee place (which, since they opened rather pointedly on expresso pouring into a cup and the segues in these movies are dense, made me think, "Holy crap, are we in Seattle now?"), Cameron Daddo's blonde daughter makes someone's drink while a hot fratboy hits on her and her churning technique. He asks if she can make him something. "Like an IQ?" she says in a perky voice. Fratboy winces. He needs thicker skin. And also, less pink in his wardrobe. Dorky Son walks up outside and spots Perky Blonde being hit on. Fratboy gives her his phone number, and she takes her cameraphone and stick it under her shirt to take a picture. Dorky Son's phone rings as he walks up, and he smiles as he answer it and sees the picture. Perky Blonde makes a sad face. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says to Fratboy. "Did you think I was sending that to you?" Huh. I think I like her. She can stay.
Dorky Son walks up to flirt with Perky Blonde as Fratboy walks away. "Keeping me abreast of things?" Dorky Son asks her. I may like her, but ... well, she can't be keeping him THAT abreast of things, if you know what I mean. Fratboy calls out to Dorky Son that he plans to ask Perky Blonde to a concert, then he gets into a limo. Perky Blonde and Dorky Son roll their eyes, nuzzle noses and kiss, and if they're anything like me, they're amazed that one person could manage to dress himself so much like the inside of a can of tuna like Fratboy did.
Off at Mount Rushmore, we zoom in presumably directly from Perky Blonde's side in freakin' Virginia to a pair of park rangers on Washington's head.
At the White House, one of Director Schanke's flunkies is holding a press conference at which a female reporter asks if this is a global catastrophe. Well, let's see -- storms in the U.S., storms in France ... counts to me. But Smug Flunkie smiles and says, "Isn't that a little Chicken Little?" No, actually, it'a a lot Chicken Little. It's also apt, so shut your smug cakehole. Gina Gershon and Tiny Slutty Asian Girl watch TV as Smug Flunkie says that the President is not going to be panicked by a few fluke storms. Oh, the Bush jokes! They come in the night and they call to me!
Gina Gershon and Tiny Slutty Asian Girl storm off, pun not intended until I typed it out, and while Gina Gershon is muttering, Tiny Slutty Asian Girl says, "Haven't you heard? The President is going to kiss it and make it better." Dear movie, I will give you a shiny nickel if you never mention the President and kissing in the same sentence again.
Off at Mount Rushmore, the two park rangers measure cracks in the stone in front of the world's most obvious green screen. They run away as lightning strikes Washington's face, and while the female park ranger makes it off, the male park ranger ends up falling to his squishy demise.
And it's back to the Extreme Weather Lab, which is apparently in an old movie theater. One of the Extreme Triplets is lying on the floor playing with computer wires when Gina Gershon walks up in a short skirt. She doesn't place her high heels on either side of his head and squeeze, but that's okay, he doesn't have to lean over all that much to see how she got that job as FEMA director. Extreme Triplet calls out to Cameron Daddo that he's got a visitor. Thereby follows Cameron Daddo turning around in slow motion. What, no choirs of angels?
Gina Gershon walks up, looks around the dump, and snarks about this being what a grant from Greenpeace buys. Cameron Daddo yammers something about it only lasting until September when the grad students leave. That's got to suck. Finding another set of identical triplet meteorology students is going to be a hassle. Gina Gershon tells him she read the Fucking Director's Cut. Then they walk around the room talking about how he guessed the locations of the storms two years earlier but not the intensity and how something bad's going on and zzzzzz. Wake me up when something windy eats the White House.
Gina Gershon and Cameron Daddo then go for a walk around the block, where the editing department develops a collective seizure and the movie starts making all these odd jumps while the action just keeps on going. Gina Gershon practically begs him to work with her on this, except without the actual begging. Cameron Daddo says he's going to need two teams, one on the ground and one in a military plane in the air. Gina Gershon asks who he wants on the ground team. "Two people," he says. "One of them is almost dead and the other one wants me dead." So they're both in excellent physical and mental health, is what you're saying.
Off in Chicago, a phone rings at a hospital, and a nurse answers, then asks the man in the bed if he wants to talk. The man in the bed grumbles something about other options, and ... yup, there he is. Randy Quaid, who -- when we last saw him in Category 6 -- had been eaten by a twister. Apparently, he's not a national landmark. No wonder he's bitter. I doubt it would have spit out Dennis Quaid.
Randy Quaid talks to Cameron Daddo over the phone, a conversation that includes lying about not actually being in a freaking body cast and perking up when his request for a driver yields just the right female person for the job. The nurse hangs up the phone, and Randy Quaid demands a hacksaw. Dennis, run!
Off at Coyote Ugly -- or, considering the bartender, Coyote Uglier -- Shannen Doherty's pouring drinks when Cameron Daddo approaches. Shannen Doherty says she's not interested because she'd much rather pour booze and shake her ta-tas at wasted assholes. Well, if that's the case, why isn't she still on Charmed? Cameron Daddo tells her he's got loads of funding so she can go fly her instrument into the nearest wind tunnel. Why make up euphemisms when meteorology will do it for you?
Shannen Doherty goes on about how she used to be his student and she worshipped him even as they were kicking her off campus and she doesn't want to put up with his bullshit anymore, and all I can think is why she'd complain about dealing with bullshit when she apparently exfoliates with it. Cameron Daddo begs and begs until she finally says yes -- but only as long as he cleans up the puke in booth four. Cameron Daddo gets this stricken "I can't believe she knew I left that puke there!" look in his eyes as he clutches the towel she throws at him.
Cameron Daddo and family bond over breakfast. Not surprisingly, he never mentions the puke in booth four.
At Reagan National Airport, a plane lands and Randy Quaid gets off it, this time wearing only a neck brace. Apparently, he killed time while in traction growing Tom Cullen's haircut from The Stand. Cameron Daddo walks up to him and basically asks him if he's up to the challenge, and Randy Quaid says, "Well, professor, let me tell you something. When I was in that tornado over the Sears Tower --" Cut to a shot of him in his tornado-tossed truck, clutching the steering wheel, screaming loudly, and wetting himself in two different time zones. The basic gist of his remarkably moronic "How I Survived My Summer Vacation" story is that he decided what the hell, stepped out of the truck to 'ride the tornado', then ended up getting chucked into Lake Michigan. Exactly how does he have enough brain cells to stand upright again?
Randy Quaid suddenly catches sight of his new tornado-chasing truck, which Cameron Daddo tells him is all nice and weighted down so that he can stand directly under the storm. Randy Quaid peeks into the truck and sees Shannon Doherty sitting in the passenger seat and perks up. Ah, he probably doesn't hear the Wicked Witch's theme when he sees her like the rest of us do. He must be missing that brain cell.
Back at the Creepy-As-Fuck Ministry, James Brolin and Swoosie Kurtz are swooning on about how ever since they got married, they joined their lives with the church and people have been joining their lovelysingsong-laden blindingly white cult ministry. Swoosie Kurtz drones about God's great love while James Brolin's frightening caps scamper down the aisle. James Brolin asks her what they should sing, and Swoosie Kurtz makes a flirty suggestion they sing Elvis (EW ... for the flirty, not for the Elvis) before cutting over their band to start a hymn. Holy unsuccessful rock band, Batman! Nicholas Lea is the lead guitarist! And he's making up for not being Krycek by wearing the smarmiest pencil-thin mustache ever!
After the service, they're in their private office and Swoosie Kurtz is giving James Brolin a shoulder massage. Kill me now. James Brolin wishes their congregation wasn't growing full of scared people, and Swoosie Kurtz says maybe that's why God's sending these storms. Yeah, Swoosie? Nobody likes a Pat Robertson. God doesn't even like Pat Robertson. That's why he always has that haircut. And also, why he doesn't look like George Clooney. Ew, and now they're kissing. Nicholas Lea watches from outside, because he's creepy like that.
They catch him watching them, and Nicholas Lea stammers something about the door being open before stumbling off. "He feels the passion so strongly," James Brolin says. EWWWW. Let's not talk about you and your icky passion, all right? At this point, I'm more likely to listen to your real wife's music than to watch your evil iridescent white caps of doom devour the head of your fictional wife.
Coming up in the next part of the recap: Randy Quaid and Shannen Doherty head off in the Disastermobile of Love. Just watching them makes me want to put a disclaimer in the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ithurtsmybrain userinfo that says, "This community is not to be used as a professional casting device." Cousin Eddie and Brenda Walsh? Ick.
I'd just like to state for the record that I'd like to thank the producers for giving this the secondary title of "The End of the World" because it's pretty safe to assume with that that we just won't be getting any more sequels. Damn! (And for the record, parts one and two of Category 6: Day of Destruction.)
Part One
We open in Paris, France, which is being hit by a monster thunderstorm. (Or as Bill O'Reilly likes to call it, "being boycotted by God.") Off we go to a carnival, because I don't know about you, but when thunder and lightning are streaking across the sky, I feel the need to ride a Ferris wheel while inhaling cotton candy.
A hot young American couple win a prize and dance around. Oh, good, Americans. It's not a real disaster unless some Americans die, you know what I mean? Some Australian soccer players (I think, if the uniform shirts are any indication) run through the crowd like assholes knocking over a mime and the pretty blond American girl. Okay, on review after writing that last part of the sentence, strike "like assholes."
Off at the Extreme Weather Lab in Washington D.C. (which you can only go get to by base-jumping off the Washington Monument into the Reflecting Pool), a dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt comes running in and tells another dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt to call somebody named Ross. The second dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt says the first one has Ross's number, while a third dark-haired guy in a gray T-shirt announces there are supercells all over France. Holy cow! Identical triplet extreme meteorologists! When the hell am I ever going to see that again? It's like a scavenger hunt!
And it's back to the Meteorological Ministry in France, except obviously the name of the building's in French, but since the extent of my French involves the lyrics to "Lady Marmalade", I'm not going to bother screwing up the spelling. Suffice it to say I would. Cameron Daddo stands before a room full of old guys and tells them that Las Vegas, St. Louis, and Chicago have all been destroyed by monster storms lately. Some French guy asks if he's proposing that the same thing could happen in France. Cameron Daddo assures him that it could, because as a large metropolitan city in a disaster movie, they're pretty much just asking for natural smiting.
Meanwhile, people are climbing the Eiffel Tower. During a thunderstorm. You know, the kind with lightning. This is like a Darwin Lifetime Achievement Award just waiting to happen. The Australian soccer players climb to the top and lean over the side to laugh at the French. You know, like you do.
At the Extreme Weather Lab, the Extreme Triplets can't get in touch with Cameron Daddo. There's a crack in here about the Triplets being much like his agent for the past few years, but I'll be polite this time.
At the French carnival, the mime runs for cover, presumably right into an invisible box.
The lightning gets worse, and everybody goes flailing down the steps of the Eiffel Tower, except of course the Australian soccer players. Five minutes in and I'm already wishing for a hungry dinosaur invasion. That's not right.
At the Meteorological Ministry, somebody asks if these storms will hit Paris and the rest of Europe. "Not just Europe," Cameron Daddo says. "This is a global crisis." Yes! Hear me, people of Earth! All of your major metropolitan areas are forfeit! RAAAAAAGE!
In the streets of Paris, people make with the screaming and Muppet arms. Stupid French people. See if we ride in and shoot at those tornadoes for you now. Hmph.
On the Eiffel Tower, the Australian soccer players are being slurped up by the storm.
One of the Extreme Triplets gets Cameron Daddo on the phone and tells him to go to the window. Uh, wouldn't it just be a better idea to tell him, "The weather's not good, trust us, you might all want to go to the basement WITHOUT going near a window"? Just a thought. Cameron Daddo looks out the window, then calls everybody over, and my GOD, we get it already. Would you dopes go take shelter already? Sheesh!
The carnival gets walloped. The mime is still in danger. And this large terrifyingly cackling clown's head decoration is still in one piece. At the Meteorological Ministry, Cameron Daddo says, "It's worse than Chicago." Well, yeah. 'Chicago' didn't have that creepy-as-fuck clown, although it did have Renee Zellweger with frighteningly pale makeup, so I can understand your confusion.
The clown's head takes off flying. NOOOOO! Pennywise, come back! I know you all float down here, but you don't have to prove it! Really, I believe you!
The Eiffel Tower gets eaten by the storm. I'm starting to believe that this isn't a worldwide storm, but is in fact a giant monster that only eats national monuments. The Australian soccer players, meanwhile, fly off into the distance.
Back at the Meteorological Ministry, Cameron Daddo and his band of merry old Frenchman watch as the huge clown's head flies through the air and slams into the window. It heads across the room where it hits a random French guy, cackling all the while. How'd you like that in your obituary? "Jacques died today at the age of 65 when a gigantic clown's head ate him." Cameron Daddo looks out the window and announces they're out of time.
And now it's back to D.C. and Federal Protective Services, whatever the hell that is. A really hot guy who looks vaguely familiar runs into a meeting and is told by the guy in charge (who calls him Carr) that just because he can run fast, it's no excuse for being late. Carr looks not the least bit apologetic as the Head Guy goes on about how we just got stomped by a Category 6 storm and it's worse than 9/11 and I'm sorry, but I'm totally distracted by the blond chick furrowing her brow in such a way as to look exactly like Julie Benz in her Darla makeup. Smile, princess. No one likes the passably undead.
Head Guy tells everybody they're covering everybody else's asses (wait, whose asses?) and that he's cancelling vacations. Everybody groans, because they all planned those weekends in Las Vegas months in advance. Oh, wait ...
Head Guy walks over to Carr, who makes some bullshit excuse before Head Guy stops him and tells him he wants to congratulate Carr's sister, who just got made director of FEMA. Carr makes a crack about that making her happy. Wait for it ...
Off at the White House, the press secretary introduces their Homeland Security guy, who's Schanke from Forever Kinght. Director Schanke blathers on about the disaster before introducing the new FEMA director ... Gina Gershon. There are so many jokes right there. Hell, there are so many jokes you could make right now. Let's form a line to the left, and everybody who's got a Gina-Gershon-as-FEMA-director joke can just get it off their chest. (For the record ... booby tassles. I don't feel I need to elaborate, except to say ... booby tassles. Because it's a fun phrase to say, whether or not you're for or against them. Heh. I said "against them" about booby tassles.)
Director Schanke compliments the hell out of Gina Gershon. (And who wouldn't, really? Have you seen her play poker? Heh. I said "poker.") Then Gina Gershon comes up to speak, making a crack about Director Schanke revealing her secret identity as Wonder Woman. Okay, who do I have to pay to see her in a Wonder Woman costume?
... I swear, I'm a heterosexual woman. (Last time I checked, anyway.)
Director Schanke wanders off to talk to his flunkies about how they hired her because she'll look good on camera when she crashes and burns. Some reporter stands up and asks Gina Gershon if she got the job because her father is a senator. Well, it's nice to know we're past the days when fake reporters would have asked if she got the job for having a vagina. Gina Gershon says something about her father being in the controlling party (NOOO! Sprung from a Republican's loins!) then says it's a crappy time to take over FEMA, but what the hell?
Off at the fake Reflecting Pool in front of the fake Washington Monument, fake ducks take flight. No, I don't get it, either.
At FEMA headquarters, everybody is going fucking batshit. It's a state of mind they're growing rather comfortable in. I hear there's talk of putting up curtains. Gina Gershon stalks in and says instead of picking up the pieces, they're going to start predicting the weather. Sorry, Weather Channel, it was nice knowing you. Some tiny Asian girl asks what Gina Gershon plans on doing about the weather. She says they'll find someone who's got a good theory of what'll happen next and they'll listen to him. I've got a good guess that another big fucking storm will show up. Do I get a turn to speak?
Gina Gershon also mentions that Homeland Security wants FEMA to take care of the government first in case of a disaster, to keep terrorists from striking. Because terrorists are immune to severe weather and can lug out a nuke to the middle of the National Mall while fending off his winds with their Tornado Repellent. Hell, I don't know.
Later, the same girl from before who was bugging Gina Gershon walks into her office and tells her she fucked the last director's assistant. No, really, this is important. 'Cause, see, Cameron Daddo wrote this huge gigantic-storm-predicting weather manifesto (with a booklet-sized magnetic map of the United States and tiny little magnetic funnel clouds) and the government edited out all the good parts, which Tiny Slutty Asian Girl's ex-fuckbuddy shredded. Except, you know, for the copy she found down her shirt that one time they did it on the director's desk after walking his dog. ... What? What'd I say? She gives Gina Gershon the Fucking Director's Cut, and Gina Gershon manages to restrain herself from giggling like a schoolgirl.
Director Schanke's off playing pool when Gina Gershon shows up in her stuffy suit with the Fucking Director's Cut in her hands and tells Director Schanke that Cameron Daddo predicted everything about the huge Category 6 storm, including the locations. Did he predict that the storm subsists solely on tourist attractions? Because that would be some mad predicting skillz. Director Schanke tells her to lay off the Fucking Director's Cut until they get more data. Gina Gershon shuts her mouth and refrains from asking Director Schanke if it would be even better if the Fucking Director's Cut included quotes like, "A gigantic tornado will strike down at the corner of 9th and West and suck up the following people ..."
Later, Gina Gershon sits at home watching the news as they show footage of a tornado eating the Mall of America. Touche, monument-devouring menace. Oh, touche. Some dorky yet adorable guy walks in and makes a crack about -- hey, wait, is that supposed to be her kid? Are we supposed to believe Gina Gershon's loins produced such nerdy fruit? Okay, fine, whatever. Inevitably, we're subjected to two minutes of excrutiating exposition being crammed down our throats -- Dorky Son is dating Cameron Daddo's daughter, Gina Gershon knew Cameron Daddo in college, they argue when they get together in some thinly veiled sexual chemiistry that is going to lead to quasi-incestuous dating of DOOOOM. I can see it now. Dorky Son goes to bed, leaving Gina Gershon to barely keep herself from nuzzling Cameron Daddo's file. An no, that's not a euphemism, although I'll bet those two would make pretty, pretty euphemism.
Gina Gershon calls Tiny Slutty Asian Girl and asks her if a secret mission would appeal to you. Tiny Slutty Asian Girl says, "Do I have a Japanese kitty tattooed on my butt?" Gina Gershon: "I'll ... uh, take that as a yes to both questions." *snickers*
Later, Tiny Slutty Asian Girl gets out of her car and runs up in the rain to pound on Cameron Daddo's door. No, Tiny Slutty Asian Girl! Don't go out in the rain! If Lost has taught me anything, it's that going out in heavy downpours is the easiest way to get shot by the mentally unstable. Cameron Daddo comes to the door, hears Tiny Slutty Asian Girl tell him that the FEMA director liked the Fucking Director's Cut and wants to talk to him off the record, and is almost onboard until she mentions Gina Gershon's name. Cameron Daddo tells her to get out of the rain.
He goes back into his house to find a young blonde chick -- who I imagine is his daughter -- who tells him that she's sure he did the right thing. Another woman, just the right age to be his wife, asks if she heard someone knocking. Cameron Daddo claims it was a wrong address. Wait, aren't we getting FEMA Director/Fucking Director's Cut Author romance out of this movie? Aw, man.
On a TV screen, James Brolin in a white suit, white hair, and the brightest caps I've seen outside of There's Something About Mary stands in front of a pulpit and tells everybody they don't need to face these horrible times alone. Swoosie Kurtz pops up and adds that people should give in this time of need. Then she and James Brolin cuddle, thereby testing my gag reflex in the least fun way possible. A reporter, who's tiny and cute and female, watches in a newsroom somewhere and tries not to gag just as hard as I did. Let it come, sweetie. Just let it come. Carr shows up out of nowhere with a bottle of champagne and asks how she can watch this crap. Cute Reporter says she hates people who use God to rip other people. What a prophetic line! It sort of brings to mind a wacky version of, "What came first, the chicken or the asshole?"
Carr pours Cute Reporter some champagne and says maybe she can interview them and get out of the graveyard (i.e., the obituary department). "The reporter's credo ... comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable," Carr says as they toast. That's funny -- three years as a journalism major and I never heard that. Then again, I wasn't a very good journalism major. Cute Reporter starts to make out with him and notices a scrape on his neck. He brushes it off, but between this and the throwaway line from Head Guy before about him pistolwhipping a jaywalker or whatever it was, we're supposed to think he's hardcore.
At a coffee place (which, since they opened rather pointedly on expresso pouring into a cup and the segues in these movies are dense, made me think, "Holy crap, are we in Seattle now?"), Cameron Daddo's blonde daughter makes someone's drink while a hot fratboy hits on her and her churning technique. He asks if she can make him something. "Like an IQ?" she says in a perky voice. Fratboy winces. He needs thicker skin. And also, less pink in his wardrobe. Dorky Son walks up outside and spots Perky Blonde being hit on. Fratboy gives her his phone number, and she takes her cameraphone and stick it under her shirt to take a picture. Dorky Son's phone rings as he walks up, and he smiles as he answer it and sees the picture. Perky Blonde makes a sad face. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says to Fratboy. "Did you think I was sending that to you?" Huh. I think I like her. She can stay.
Dorky Son walks up to flirt with Perky Blonde as Fratboy walks away. "Keeping me abreast of things?" Dorky Son asks her. I may like her, but ... well, she can't be keeping him THAT abreast of things, if you know what I mean. Fratboy calls out to Dorky Son that he plans to ask Perky Blonde to a concert, then he gets into a limo. Perky Blonde and Dorky Son roll their eyes, nuzzle noses and kiss, and if they're anything like me, they're amazed that one person could manage to dress himself so much like the inside of a can of tuna like Fratboy did.
Off at Mount Rushmore, we zoom in presumably directly from Perky Blonde's side in freakin' Virginia to a pair of park rangers on Washington's head.
At the White House, one of Director Schanke's flunkies is holding a press conference at which a female reporter asks if this is a global catastrophe. Well, let's see -- storms in the U.S., storms in France ... counts to me. But Smug Flunkie smiles and says, "Isn't that a little Chicken Little?" No, actually, it'a a lot Chicken Little. It's also apt, so shut your smug cakehole. Gina Gershon and Tiny Slutty Asian Girl watch TV as Smug Flunkie says that the President is not going to be panicked by a few fluke storms. Oh, the Bush jokes! They come in the night and they call to me!
Gina Gershon and Tiny Slutty Asian Girl storm off, pun not intended until I typed it out, and while Gina Gershon is muttering, Tiny Slutty Asian Girl says, "Haven't you heard? The President is going to kiss it and make it better." Dear movie, I will give you a shiny nickel if you never mention the President and kissing in the same sentence again.
Off at Mount Rushmore, the two park rangers measure cracks in the stone in front of the world's most obvious green screen. They run away as lightning strikes Washington's face, and while the female park ranger makes it off, the male park ranger ends up falling to his squishy demise.
And it's back to the Extreme Weather Lab, which is apparently in an old movie theater. One of the Extreme Triplets is lying on the floor playing with computer wires when Gina Gershon walks up in a short skirt. She doesn't place her high heels on either side of his head and squeeze, but that's okay, he doesn't have to lean over all that much to see how she got that job as FEMA director. Extreme Triplet calls out to Cameron Daddo that he's got a visitor. Thereby follows Cameron Daddo turning around in slow motion. What, no choirs of angels?
Gina Gershon walks up, looks around the dump, and snarks about this being what a grant from Greenpeace buys. Cameron Daddo yammers something about it only lasting until September when the grad students leave. That's got to suck. Finding another set of identical triplet meteorology students is going to be a hassle. Gina Gershon tells him she read the Fucking Director's Cut. Then they walk around the room talking about how he guessed the locations of the storms two years earlier but not the intensity and how something bad's going on and zzzzzz. Wake me up when something windy eats the White House.
Gina Gershon and Cameron Daddo then go for a walk around the block, where the editing department develops a collective seizure and the movie starts making all these odd jumps while the action just keeps on going. Gina Gershon practically begs him to work with her on this, except without the actual begging. Cameron Daddo says he's going to need two teams, one on the ground and one in a military plane in the air. Gina Gershon asks who he wants on the ground team. "Two people," he says. "One of them is almost dead and the other one wants me dead." So they're both in excellent physical and mental health, is what you're saying.
Off in Chicago, a phone rings at a hospital, and a nurse answers, then asks the man in the bed if he wants to talk. The man in the bed grumbles something about other options, and ... yup, there he is. Randy Quaid, who -- when we last saw him in Category 6 -- had been eaten by a twister. Apparently, he's not a national landmark. No wonder he's bitter. I doubt it would have spit out Dennis Quaid.
Randy Quaid talks to Cameron Daddo over the phone, a conversation that includes lying about not actually being in a freaking body cast and perking up when his request for a driver yields just the right female person for the job. The nurse hangs up the phone, and Randy Quaid demands a hacksaw. Dennis, run!
Off at Coyote Ugly -- or, considering the bartender, Coyote Uglier -- Shannen Doherty's pouring drinks when Cameron Daddo approaches. Shannen Doherty says she's not interested because she'd much rather pour booze and shake her ta-tas at wasted assholes. Well, if that's the case, why isn't she still on Charmed? Cameron Daddo tells her he's got loads of funding so she can go fly her instrument into the nearest wind tunnel. Why make up euphemisms when meteorology will do it for you?
Shannen Doherty goes on about how she used to be his student and she worshipped him even as they were kicking her off campus and she doesn't want to put up with his bullshit anymore, and all I can think is why she'd complain about dealing with bullshit when she apparently exfoliates with it. Cameron Daddo begs and begs until she finally says yes -- but only as long as he cleans up the puke in booth four. Cameron Daddo gets this stricken "I can't believe she knew I left that puke there!" look in his eyes as he clutches the towel she throws at him.
Cameron Daddo and family bond over breakfast. Not surprisingly, he never mentions the puke in booth four.
At Reagan National Airport, a plane lands and Randy Quaid gets off it, this time wearing only a neck brace. Apparently, he killed time while in traction growing Tom Cullen's haircut from The Stand. Cameron Daddo walks up to him and basically asks him if he's up to the challenge, and Randy Quaid says, "Well, professor, let me tell you something. When I was in that tornado over the Sears Tower --" Cut to a shot of him in his tornado-tossed truck, clutching the steering wheel, screaming loudly, and wetting himself in two different time zones. The basic gist of his remarkably moronic "How I Survived My Summer Vacation" story is that he decided what the hell, stepped out of the truck to 'ride the tornado', then ended up getting chucked into Lake Michigan. Exactly how does he have enough brain cells to stand upright again?
Randy Quaid suddenly catches sight of his new tornado-chasing truck, which Cameron Daddo tells him is all nice and weighted down so that he can stand directly under the storm. Randy Quaid peeks into the truck and sees Shannon Doherty sitting in the passenger seat and perks up. Ah, he probably doesn't hear the Wicked Witch's theme when he sees her like the rest of us do. He must be missing that brain cell.
Back at the Creepy-As-Fuck Ministry, James Brolin and Swoosie Kurtz are swooning on about how ever since they got married, they joined their lives with the church and people have been joining their lovely
After the service, they're in their private office and Swoosie Kurtz is giving James Brolin a shoulder massage. Kill me now. James Brolin wishes their congregation wasn't growing full of scared people, and Swoosie Kurtz says maybe that's why God's sending these storms. Yeah, Swoosie? Nobody likes a Pat Robertson. God doesn't even like Pat Robertson. That's why he always has that haircut. And also, why he doesn't look like George Clooney. Ew, and now they're kissing. Nicholas Lea watches from outside, because he's creepy like that.
They catch him watching them, and Nicholas Lea stammers something about the door being open before stumbling off. "He feels the passion so strongly," James Brolin says. EWWWW. Let's not talk about you and your icky passion, all right? At this point, I'm more likely to listen to your real wife's music than to watch your evil iridescent white caps of doom devour the head of your fictional wife.
Coming up in the next part of the recap: Randy Quaid and Shannen Doherty head off in the Disastermobile of Love. Just watching them makes me want to put a disclaimer in the
ithurtsmybrain userinfo that says, "This community is not to be used as a professional casting device." Cousin Eddie and Brenda Walsh? Ick.
