Dark Knight...

Dark Knight...

Howdy. There are a handful of people who've been reading this blog for a while now--some of you are creeping right on up there toward six years with me on this meandering, silly trip I'm on. And in this time, you've known me to say a few silly things, like how that episode of Andy Griffith where Barney buys the car is the highest human artistic achievement, ever. Those are silly, bullshit things that I say from time to time because it makes me giggle like a German schoolgirl.

I'd like to take a step back from that semi, hemi-persona that I've wrapped around myself like a crescent roll to create the oversized Pig-in-a-Blanket that is Big Stupid Tommy.

I'm stepping back to say this as Tommy Acuff, man about town: I was endlessly impressed with The Dark Knight.

I'm a Joker-geek. Favorite character in comics...edging up into favorite character in all of literature.

Yet here's the thing.

In the 60, nearly 70 years he's been around, and despite the litany of creators who've worked on his character in myriad stories through the years, in media ranging from the comic page to the big screen?

Nobody has gotten him right. Not exactly. No writer. No artist. No director. No actor.

Nobody.

It's gonna take a bit to let me get some distance from this afternoon's viewing.

But Chris Nolan and Heath Ledger may have gotten the Joker exactly as I've seen him in my head for 25 years now....

I loved the movie.

I'll try to think more on it. Perhaps put something up that takes a little thought and skill to put together...for a change.

Damn, what an awesome flick.

Awe. Some...

It was everything I could do not to go screaming and yelling, running around the theater when the credits rolled.

Damn, that's how you make a movie, right there...