Review by Justin Skinner

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When I woke up this morning, I found my computer blinking with an e-mail message:

>Wake up, John.

A barrage of questions occurred to me: 1) Why had I slept outside in a shack constructed entirely of twigs and dead animals? 2.) Why would I have brought my desktop computer to a shack constructed entirely of twigs and dead animals? And 3.) Why did I have an e-mail message waiting for me on my desktop computer, which was sitting next to me outside in the shack constructed entirely of twigs and dead animals that I'd slept in the night before?

I began thinking, wondering how I might get the dead animal smell off of my clothes. The blood wouldn't be a problem — it's not like I haven't gotten that out of the occasional blood-soaked clothes I tend to have! — but the raccoon tails I'd somehow sewn onto my pants would be tricky. Just as I was pondering these questions, the e-mail opened itself and downloaded an attachment. It opened itself up, and I was greeted to the "Prophecy" trailer for The Matrix: Reloaded (not the teaser or the full-length trailer, but one of the television commercials).

Lawrence Fishburne greeted me with "Here we go." But this didn't intrigue me as much as the jamming of a large jackhammer-like object into Keanu Reeves' skull. I immediately began to tear up. (If you only knew how many sleepless nights I had fantasized about plunging serrated metal objects into Keanu Reeves' head, you would have understood.) Having expressed his intention to go, Fishburne suddenly leaps on top of a moving MAC truck (or a large white box, I wasn't really paying attention) and viciously—viciously—-removes his clip-on sunglasses. I was surprised that removing them from the side like he did, without first detaching them from the bridge of his nose, didn't take a chunk of said nose with it. In the interests of science, I left my animal shack and wrestled a badger to the ground, then promptly grabbed my pair of clip-on sunglasses and attempted to remove them from the badger's head in a smilarly rakish manner. Suffice to say, the experiment went off without a hitch, only tearing off extremely minor chunks of flesh from the animal, so I was forced to admit that Fishburne must know what he's doing.

Next up, Carrie-Anne Moss rolls up in a bullet-riddled car. I was shocked that the production values dictated that they had to buy my cousin Tito's old ride. Regardless, it seemed to be running fine, save perhaps for a little fire erupting from the trunk from whatever causes fires in trunks (I would guess a person who sets fire to trunks).

The trailer continues on, with enough inter-cut sequences and white flashes that I erupted into a grand mal seizure. Coming out of it without a small bit of tongue, I was thankful to be just in time to see the infamous Warner Bros/Village Roadshow logo chase scene. It was intense. Sadly, we leave this quickly and move on to Keanu attacking some poor gentlemen with a metal pole. After a few more gratuitous explosions and a rather lovely shot of a scantily-clad biker's ass (I assume it's a female biker; woman or not, though, that is one tasty bottom). We then cut to hacking and slashing and random cruelty, before Fishburne is shown launching himself from a car into the air, attempting to land on a truck behind him (why he has an obsession with truck's I will never know.probably something to do with lack of love from his father--though, isn't it always?). Immediately intrigued I grabbed the badger and started cruising major highways at eighty or ninety trying to catch up with some of the safe-driving individuals we call truck drivers. Unfortunately they left me in their dust and the best I could do was fling the half-dead animal at a passing Chevette and hope for the best.

When I returned the official title graced the screen and I pondered who was speaking over the title, and telling me about "May 15th." Was God speaking directly to me? Was I the new messiah, set to cause the apocalypse on the 15th? Just to be safe, I set to work on a nuclear weapon.

Long story short, I found out you can't make a nuclear weapon out of human feces and saltpeter. Also, I eventually got a postcard from the badger of him screwing a stuffed likeness of me. I didn't know what it meant, but it's probably a sign of affection.