# eating a mutant lizard vague apocalyptic gestures and post-industrial anthropocenic spectacle in mad max: fury road the following holy message was scribbled on the back of an old torn envelope and found drifting endlessly and unread in the desert of the real by postman kevin costner yo rockatansky you asshole - killing that harmless two-headed radioactive mutant desert lizard under your manly heel of action just to prove what an uncompromisingly studly ('cgi tough guy') sphincter you are was the modern default excess. (the ideological blackmail of the notion of "no order" in your movies as the new old order.) sure they taste good can grow to around twenty feet and ir bite is deadly poisonous - but apparently all one needs is a nihilistically techno-fascist streak of bitter existential whizz in you and they're no problem. unlike water or peak oil this you appear to have no shortage of oh wise tough and rowdy one tell me - does mass delusion go better with hot buttered popcorn? the first frame we see of the comic-con first look trailer already contains death - not just the death of a mutant lizard that never did anyone no wrong but the rapid ongoing mutation of (designer) apocalyptic gestures and post-industrial spectacle on a global scale; the happy-blank wide-eyed celebration of mass (/mind) murder and wanton destruction / annihilation on unprecedented (anthropocenic) razor scales d0g but the trailers look so inciting don't they? like being invited to your own dim funeral in which the mourners - apparently for want of anything more interesting to do - hack at one another with primitive(r) weapons and race across the long abandoned churchyard churning up the ornamental grass in ir heavily modified sports utility-as-war vehicles reto-fitted for biofuels derived from the old cellulose found in lousy hollywood big budget vhs-grade franchise flicks of the previous undead century as they do the bony critics rise to the surface once more to wildly proclaim in holy heavy overtones your solid(tm) production values and a 'snappy script that moves at an intelligent pace with much explosive cinematic gusto'. gimme a break max - and that five dollars you own me yer predictably crazy bastard anyhow. see you on the burning reality road to the infinite present yer pal henry 'swain' swanson outpost delusion nation // republic of bob