But Here We Are, Drinking From His Basket: A Review Of The Trailer For “Men in Black III”

But Here We Are, Drinking From His Basket: A Review Of The Trailer For “Men in Black III”

In which Jason reviews the trailer for Men in Black III, a time travel movie about the Men in Black’s early years in the 1960s.

I think we can all agree that Will Smith’s time machine in the trailer for Men in Black III is ugly. Like, talking-Nightmare-Before-Christmas-Jack Skellingtonkeychain ugly. My grandfather’s diabetes monitor ugly. Jack Skellington’s diabetes monitor ugly. Which, you might be a little late to the party, diabetes, as he is already a skeleton.

What’s that you say, diabetes? You brought a basket of assorted whiskeys? I forgive you for being late to the party. Seems strange to personify diabetes as a thoughtful but tardy party guest. But here we are, drinking from his basket of Johnnie Walker Blues and Reds.

Look, I know not every futuristic device can look like an iPhone. And if I had to choose between my iPhone and Will Smith’s time machine, I’d pick the functionality of time travel over the aesthetics of a smartphone, even though you can’t look up porn on a time machine. Which isn’t a problem for Will Smith, because he doesn’t look at regular porn like a normal person. He prefers Quantum Porn, which is only available to celebrities, top scientists and world leaders. Quantum Porn is created by running a Hustler magazine through the Large Hadron Collider, which is an extremely difficult process. You can’t just go dropping outdated adult magazines that have been essentially replaced by the internet into the world’s largest and highest-energy particle accelerator. I mean, where do you even buy porn magazines these days? The gas station?

In fact, due to quantum entanglements and complications from spontaneous parametric down-conversion that result every time an issue of Quantum Porn is created, Will Smith’s penis is constantly in a state of being simultaneously erect and flaccid (and boy do I hate that word, but I couldn’t think of a better synonym). It is the Schrödinger’s cat of Will Smith penises, of which there are now limitless variations, thanks to the billions of alternate dimensions that are created every time Will Smith wants to masturbate.

In fact, we owe the existence of our own dimension to Charlize Theron bending over a craft services table to reach for a danish on the set of The Legend of Bagger Vance. And the residents of our sister dimension in which Al Gore won the 2000 election have Matt Damon’s shapely buttocks to thank for their eco-cars and hoverbikes. Not to mention the Planet of the Apes, which was created as the result of a confusing dream about Tommy Lee Jones.

This is what happens when pornographers play God. One minute you’re pleasuring yourself to a Blu-ray of The Bourne Identity, the next you’re staring into the many eyes of the cherubim Proginoskes from Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wind in the Door. 

Anyway, I think we should all just take a moment to appreciate Will Smith’s libido, and his willingness to get jiggy with said libido, without which nothing would exist. Thank you, good night, the end!