This weekend I finally got around to seeing “Return of the King,” and I’m kinda sorry to say that it didn’t exactly rocketh my hindquarters.

I found myself reverting to my 13-year-old me, asking questions like, “man, how many hit points do you think Gandalf has? He must be like +99/+99/+99 or something.”

But then I had to cringe, because even as a 13-year-old, while I tried hard to get into the whole D and D thing, I just couldn’t, because I had the knowledge that that was the Path Wot Leadeth to Stevie Nicks.

Plus, while I’m pretty good at deciphering accents, I couldn’t make heads or tails of the accents in the movie, and was glad that at least there were Czech subtitles. And what was with the hobbits’ hairstyles? They all looked like members of The Sweet or Paul Williams. Wait, wasn’t Paul Williams in the movie?

I kept waiting for Sam Goldwyn, the elf, to show up from Wil-Shire, the kingdom of Stu Nahan, and smite the mollusks and the Arps. But lo, there was no smiting to be had from Sam Goldwyn, even though a great deal of arse was thump-ed by others.

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