Snakes on a Macarena


Ginny wants to see “Little Miss Sunshine” on Friday.

I asked her point blank how many snakes were in it. And which character was Samuel L. Jackson playing in the movie, perhaps the guy who saves the quirky family from the snakes on the VW bus, or the fellow flyer who saves them from a doomed plane ride?

Those Sundance fans liked “Sunshine” because of all the cursing and snake bashing, right?


I’ve been a Sam Jackson fan for a long time, stretching back to the crackhead dance in “Jungle Fever” and Mr. Señor Love Daddy in “Do the Right Thing.” Solid.

Sure, he’s been in some stinkers (“The Man,” “Star Wars” 1, 2 and 3, “Loaded Weapon 1,” “Changing Lanes”), but otherwise he’s one of the best and brightest out there. He’s the baddest, he’s the most quotable, and he can make a ridiculous concept work.

That’s why “Snakes on a Plane” will be the gold standard for all entertainment.

Don’t get me wrong: He’s been brilliant by voice alone (“The Incredibles,” “The Boondocks”) and has the action flick down pat (“The Negotiator,” “Die Hard with a Vengeance,” we’ll even count “Unbreakable”). But “Snakes” will determine the formula for the new hipness.

For example, the Tour de France. Barely watchable now that Lance Armstrong has pedaled away and the new American champ may be juiced beyond recognition. What does the world’s grandest bike race need? Motherfuckin’ snakes … on the course, in the helmets, thrown at fans.

And Sam Jackson shooting out the tires of 10-speeds to stop the terrorists. Or the French. Whatever.

“An Inconvenient Truth” has compelling evidence that our climate crisis will be unstoppable in just 10 years. You know what it doesn’t have? Mother. Fucking. Snakes.

Would you rather hear Al Gore say, “The Earth’s average temperature has increased dramatically thanks to mankind’s dependence on fossil fuels” or Sam Jackson screaming, “Say ‘global warming’ again. Say ‘global warming’ again. I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker. Say ‘global warming’ one more goddamn time”?

No contest.

“Grey’s Anatomy,” a popular suckfest that women love to watch and discuss and obsess over. I say, unleash the snakes, and let SLJ tear that sappy hospital a new one.

I already missed out on the crossover parody of the summer, “Snakes on Flight 93.” “I’ve had it with these motherfucking terrorists on this motherfucking plane!”


When Mace Windu tells you, “Let’s roll!” you better well get with the plan.

The list of things that could be improved with snakes and/or Sam Jackson is virtually endless: “Big Brother All-Stars,” Wimbledon, the U.S. Open (tennis or golf), potluck suppers, Ziggy, sudoku and most book clubs.

And that’s the double truth, Ruth.


About this entry