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With Memorial Day having just passed we are now entering one of the most devastating annual disaster time frames that happens every year. This time of year is responsible for more death and destruction than tornado season, wild fires and earthquakes combined. What kind of phenomenon can cause this much havoc? Summer Blockbusters.

Along with a healthy dollop of AWESOME, and two full scoops of bacon flavored ass kicking- each and every year the summer blockbusters are responsible for destruction and death on a scale that most can’t imagine.

Michael Bay said that during the filming of Transformers they destroyed over 200 hundred cars. That’s just cars! Not to mention innumerable lives that are ruined during alien attacks like in Independence Day, meteor strikes such as Armageddon, property damage seen in movies like Gone in Sixty Seconds and possible terrorist actions as seen in the Die Hard series and other movies like The Rock. Each and every year millions of lives are affected by the events that occur during the summer blockbuster. And you could be next.

Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Bruce Wayne; they never expected to be at the center of a shitstorm of craziness. Even the average guy like Sam Witwicky from Transformers or Randal Raynes from gone in sixty seconds were ill-equipped when the hammer of fate came down upon them like four hundred pounds of cake on Oprah during one of her blimping up stages. But they survived their ordeals, and so can you.

I’m here to talk to you today about how to survive a summer blockbuster…should you find yourself inexplicably transported to a weird alternate dimension where Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer play god with the lives of innocent civilians.

In order to assess whether you’re actually in a summer blockbuster or if you’ve just landed yourself in the middle of a maelstrom of unfortunate happenstance; we’re going to answer a quick series of 10 questions:

1. Is stuff blowing up around you?
2. Is everyone shooting at stuff and conveniently hitting mostly walls and debris?
3. Are you dodging gun fire?
4. Are there ridiculous amounts of hot chicks everywhere?
5. Are the unnaturally hot chicks drawn to you like a moth to a buglight?
6. Have you done something ridiculously illegal yet still haven’t even been scolded for it?
7. Are fantastical and amazing things happening all around you?
8. Do you have a pivotal role in these fantastic events?
9. Are aliens present anywhere in the world?
10. Are you Shia Lebouf?

If you answered yes to any of these questions you are in a summer blockbuster and your life is going to be an unstoppable juggernatut of chaos as you watch everything around you circle the drain. Fortunately for you I have developed my patented system:

Step One: Stay the fucking hell away from major cities.
Almost every bad thing that takes place in a major motion picture is centered around a major city. New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Washington DC – these places are magnets for atrocities of Godzilla like proportions. Alien Attacks, Meteor strikes, costumed ne’er-do-wells executing chaos driven crime sprees, all of these things plague our metropolises. So do you self a favor: if you’re standing in downtown San Francisco and buildings start exploding and the subway starts spewing fire like a drunken sorority girl puking up Jaeger and roofies – pack up all of your stuff and head for the fucking wilderness. These kinds of things don’t happen in places like Roundup Montana.

A city the size of a postage stamp.

Red Dawn doesn’t count.

Step Two: Stay near the hot chick.
If you normally have the sex appeal of a burn victim and you suddenly find yourself in the enviable position of having a hot chick like Megan Fox lusting after you; you are holding on to your golden ticket to survival. They never kill the hot chick. Sure they might tease nudity, or show some tastefully artistic side boob, but the likely hood of her getting shot in the head or stepped on by a giant robot is slim to none. So stick to her like bad press on Britney Spears.

Step Three: Stay the hell away from national monuments.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of my years of rotting my brain with explosions and John Woo movies it’s that all trauma in the universe is attracted to national monuments. And not just our national monuments. Summer blockbusters have also been known to be an international affair, leaving grieving widows and devastated townsfolk in their money grubbing wake.

You’re probably saying, “But Travis, most national monuments are in big cities.” True, but some of them aren’t. Take Mount Rushmore for example. It’s in the middle of nowhere. So you’re sitting out in the middle of nowhere, with your finger buried two knuckles deep into your nose, thinking you’re safe because you’re in the middle of the wilderness when all of a sudden: BOOM

Alien space ship blows up the mountain and you’re crushed under Abe Lincoln’s severed stone head because you didn’t listen.

Bottom line: Stay the hell away from them.

Step four: Get a gun.
I don’t care if you’ve never fired a gun before in your life and the thought of pulling the trigger makes you wet your bed like a five year old. Get a gun. At some point during the film you’re going to be in the position of stopping the bad guy, saving the girl and riding off into the sunset but in order to do that you’re gonna need to shoot somebody. Mostly likely right in the face. Probably while doing a wheelie on a motorcycle and shooting two guns at the same time. And no matter that you’ve never touched a gun before in your life, you’ll wield that roscoe with ease and grace of an expert marksman. Despite the fact that you’re shaking like a dog shitting razor blades.

Step Five: Witty Banter
No hero should ever be without an arsenal of witty one-liners and snappy come backs. Many a hero has made bad guys quiver in their logo encrusted boots with the use of a snarky catchphrase or a quick quip. Dirty Harry made criminals piss their pants with “Go ahead, make my day.” The Terminator could cause entire cities to come to a hault with his signature “I’ll be back.” And John McClane put boot to terrorist ass on four separate TOTALLY FUCKING RADICAL OCASSIONS while uttering one of the greatest catch phrases ever muttered through gritted teeth, “Yippee Kay Yae Mother Fucker!” And so should you have a mighty bag of poignant and situationally relevant one liners or super hip non sequiturs.

If you follow these five simple steps you’ll make it out of your summer blockbuster ordeal a little bruised and a little battered but WAY better off than than the sacrificial comedic sidekick whose only job is to die in order to give you some emotional depth…or a cause for revenge.

And if you do indeed survive your summer blockbuster fiasco thanks to my patented system, make sure you tells those news reporters that Travis from howtokillpeople.com saved your life.

Then, out of gratitude, introduce me to your new hot friend; Megan Fox. I promise we’ll send you a postcard from whatever exotic tropical resort we end up humping at.

I normally don’t go to the big summer blockbusters within a week of their release because my burgeoning sociopathic tendencies make me think it’s a good idea to bring a claw hammer to the multiplex in order to dispense my own brand of Waldorf and Statler justice to the slack jawed hordes that just have to see a movie on the first weekend it comes out. Let me give you an example.

My little brothers desperately wanted to see “Jumper” when it came out. After my father offered up a sufficient enough cash bribe I agreed to take them. After sitting through ninety minutes of the worst movie ever made, as the credits are rolling, one of my brother’ classmates walks by our row of seats and – in recognizing my brother – loudly asks, “Hey, did you see the same movie?” At which point I yelled, “Nope, we’ve been sitting in the same theater watching The Muppets Take Manhattan.” Just as that kid’s dad was about to give me what-for I verbally accosted him for raising a dullard…but not before graciously kicking him in the grapes and rubbing popcorn in his eyes. He thanked me for enlightening him.

These are the kind of people that make me feel good about downloading screeners off of the internet.

But since this is going to be one of the biggest blockbuster summers on record I’m going to risk jail time for your amusement. I hope you’re fucking happy internet.

This year’s first blockbuster is an ass kicking opus about how great robots are: IRONMAN. Now I’m gonna tell you right now that this article probably contains spoilers. I’m not really sure what’s been seen online or on tv but I’m going to discuss the movie here and if you read on and I spoil something for you don’t get your vagina all in a twist and don’t bitch at me.

Our story starts with billionaire genius Tony Stark being kidnapped by terrorists and forced to build a bomb. Quagmired in a plot reminiscent of Back To The Future Tony Stark does not build a time machine out of a DeLorean and travel back to 1985 – instead he throws together a robotic suit of armor with spare parts in a fashion that would make MacGyver look like the bemulletted, over rated hack that he is.

Tony Stark is, by far, the greatest scietist/inventor ever. Allow me to present this highly scientific chart that pits Tony Stark against some of the most noted minds in history.

	Thomas Edison	Albert Einstein	Bill Gates	Niels Bohr	DaVinci	Ben Franklin	Tony Stark
Nails hot chicks like most people breathe air
Can build anything out of anything with stupendous results
Can sing opera
Eccentric billionaire who can own anything he wants
Can fly
Harnessed a new form of energy
Developed a robotic suit of armor
robotic servants
Super hot personal assistant

I’d like to see Einstein try to score a supermodel. No talent hack.

This two hour epic on the truths about why robots are more kick ass than ninjas, pirates and lumberjacks combined continues as we watch Tony Stark develop a new super armor with the assistance of his super advanced 3D rendering software and his comic relief robot helpers. That’s right, the man who would become a robot has robot helpers. That’s tantamount to Hugh Heffner having naked female assassins for body guards. Robot helpers and hot naked female assassins – looks like Santa’s getting an updated list from one internet asshole this year.

As he’s building his new suit of armor Tony Stark finds out that the same terrorists that were holding him hostage have gotten their hands on a bunch of Stark Enterprise weaponry and he decides to take matters into his own hands. So he jumps in his robot suit and flies to the Middle East in around six minutes. From Los Angeles!

Let me break down the math for you.

As the crow flies a trip from Los Angeles to Baghdad is 7660 miles. The F22 Raptor, the Air Force’ newest fighter jet cruises at 1,325 mph. Without considering stops for refueling, even dropping out of cruise for mid-air refueling, it would take a Raptor 5.78 hours to make that trek. It took iron man SIX FUCKING MINUTES. That means he was flying at roughly 127,666 mph. That means the Ironman suit beats the shit out of any country’s most advanced aircraft, the straship Enterprise and the Millennium Falcon. Of course in my hands I’d probably just end up doing what those guys from Blue Thunder did and scope out naked chicks who were jazzercising in their 1980s living rooms.

Once he’s flown to the Middle East he beats the holy piss out of a bunch of terrorists and then he fights a tank. Let me repeat that for those of you who didn’t catch it: A robot fights a motherfucking tank. If you’re not sprouting some sort of physiological sign of being horribly aroused (hard nipples, raging boner, moist in the crotch – take your pick) then you’re probably not human. Or at the very least not entertained as easily as I am by sophomoric humor. And by sophomoric I mean absolutely fucking awesome ideas like robots fighting tanks, canons that shoot sharks and a mountain made of bacon that is inhabited solely by extremely hot lesbians…who have no problem with public nudity, or people eating their tasty, tasty mountain.

He beats the tank with a single knockout punch reminiscent of a Mike Tyson bout – sans the ear biting and all of the prison rape - and decides that now that he has laid the smack down it’s time to head back to America for cocktails and skirt chasing. Once he is back in America our attention is turned to the real bad guy who has found Tony Stark’s original “Escape the terrorists” armor and decided to reverse engineer that into his own Super suit of armor making him a bigger and better armed robot than Ironman himself. So without spoiling the movie; Ironman has to fight an even bigger robot in order to win the day.

Robot image courtesy of one of my favorite sites:  I FIGHT ROBOTS

So far he’s escaped terrorist kidnapping, fought the terrorists who stole his company’s weapons, fought a fucking tank and now he has to fight a gigantic robot. That’s like defeating Godzilla and just as the celebration orgy breaks out, Godzilla’s mother comes around the corner, distraught over the death of her child and puts a serious cramp on your all asian booby bonanza.

Ironman is obviously victorious - because how the fuck are you going to cash in on a sequel when the main character is dead? As the movie ends, and the sun sets, we pull back away from Tony Stark’s palatial mansion on the Malibu Cliffs and we find the answer to that great universal question: what would you do if you were up to your tits in massive piles of fuck you money?

I’d become a robot and fly around the world fighting terrorists.

That and I’d be balls deep in every super-model I could find.

Robotic balls that is.

Good night everybody.