October 19, 2009



For those of you expecting one of my typical movie reviews, I apologize in advance.

I ended up getting a splinter in my finger on the way into the theater and spent the entire movie trying to get it out. I used my teeth, my key chain and my friend’s teeth. Nothing worked and there was blood everywhere.

If I was smart and knew a lot about medicine, I would have called 911, but I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking. The pain was too excruciating.

All I know is that when I saw George Clooney on the screen I wished I was him. Not because he is rich, eats healthy, dates beautiful women or has good hygiene, but because he never gets splinters.

I have never heard him speak out about the danger of getting splinters, the pain it causes you and your loved ones or how hard it is to type with a splinter in your finger.

I even did a Google search of George Clooney and splinters. It came up empty.

If I was George Clooney, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now – under the real risk of losing my finger and never being able to type a movie review again in my life.

Over the next few days I ask that you all pray for my finger or call George Clooney and ask for help. If that does not work and this is the end of the line, I just want to say it was a good run.

Editor’s Note: A week after this review was written the splinter in Skippy’s finger fell out on its own. Skippy is currently trying to get the splinter inducted into the Museum of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Please support this initiative by mailing the Academy at 8949 Wilshire Boulevard, Beverly Hills, California 90211 and demanding they make Skippy’s splinter a feature attraction.

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