I spend a lot of time complaining about when movie franchises go from being rated "R" to being rated "PG-13". To this day, I refuse to see them most of the time ("Terminator: Salvation" has less of a chance of appearing in my Netflix queue as does a Katherine Heigl movie) and when I do, it's under protest (Come on, "Alien Vs. Predator", seriously?). However, there is one sequel that took this route to, in my estimation, a superior result. As fantastic pieces of entertainment as "Mad Max" and "The Road Warrior" are, I like "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome" the best. Firstly, behind "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre", it has the greatest name in movie history "Thunderdome? What's that? Well, whatever it is, I can't wait to see Mad Max go beyond it.". It's also the most interesting in terms of the changes in setting and character, plus, it has Tina Turner, who is a national treasure, even is the film was shot in Australia. More than anything though, "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome" has what may be the greatest fight in movie history. It's an incredible, inventive and unique scene where Max is locked in a metal, dome-like inclosure (Want to guess what it's called?) and if forced into mortal combat with a character named Blaster. Blaster is 1/2, or. in another way of seeing it, 7/8 of the character of Master Blaster. Master Blaster is essentially a brilliant midget standing on the shoulders of a giant, silent, metal-masked brute. He's a fascinatingly original character and the fight is amazing. 
Watch it here if you want:   
     At the end of the fight (Spoilers below) Max wins the fight and he mallets the helmet off of Blaster's head. When this happens, Blaster's face can be seen or the first time. We are as shocked as Auntie, Ironbar, and the other Thunderdome viewers when we find out that despite his gargantuan size and strength, Blaster is mentally retarded. He's a simpleton, a lamebrain. As his symbiote, Master, states, "It's not his fault. He has the mind of a child". 
When Blaster is killed, he's no longer imposing, no longer threatening, he's just sad. Sad and simple. Got it? 

This is Andrew Bynum: 
     He's the 7-foot tall center for the Los Angeles Lakers. He's 23 years. He's from New Jersey. He's never had a day of higher education in his life. Anything else interesting about him... anything.... Oh, yeah, he's a giant idiot. I mean this both literally and euphemistically. 
Giant idiot.
Just look at this guys face? 
     Is there anything in there that looks like there is the slightest hint of intelligence going on? Every time I see the guy I tend to imagine what the world must look like to him. Do you think it all looks like the end of "The Matrix"? All of these impossible to solve equations whizzing by him at lightning speed?

     Even better yet, is when he is attempts to talk. Here he is being lobbed soft ball questions from sportscaster and part-time used car salesman, John Ireland. Before you ask: Yes, English is his first language. 
      Any fine handed down from the league to this guy should come with mandatory elocution lessons. 

       Speaking of fines, he's not just stupid, either. He's that wonderful combination so prevalent in the sports world of being stupid and being an awful human being. Here is his, down 30 points in the final quarter of an impossible to win game against Dallas. Keep in mind, he's doing this to a guy who is a foot shorter than him and about half his weight, all while he's up in the air. Classy, no? By the way, thanks for taking off the jersey. It's good to know that you can still be an NBA player while having the physique of a half-melted Jell-O Pudding Pop:
     Now, I know that that's all "On court" persona. There are perfectly nice athletes who display pure viciousness when they're playing in their sport. It's the competitive fire that makes them great at what they do. I should go easier on the NBA's version of "Baby Huey" here on account of all that. In real life, I'm sure that Andrew Bynum is a perfectly nice guy. "Why you hatin'?"
     Well, if you must know, I hatin' because he is parking his BMW over the line in a handicapped parking space and onto the walkway to get to a supermarket. 
     Just because you have knees made of break-away glass and are mentally disadvantaged does not give you or anyone the right to do this. It's awful for countless reasons. Look at all the empty spaces nearby where any other average, every day seven foot multi-millionaire could park their car. I'd complain about this parking job even if he WAS handicapped. It's not like he's late for anything important, there's a lockout going on. What, is he late for he, Matt Barnes' and Meta World Peace's book club? (I hear they're discussing "All the Pretty Horses" this week)  

     You want to know what's wrong with people? A lot of it is right here. People with minimal training in the "How to be a decent human being" department are bound to do insanely selfish stuff like this. My personal favorite thing is that, by contrast, he's STILL one of the more likeable players on the team. The Lakers are a team full of rapists, criminals, sociopaths, wife-beaters and general ne're-do-wells. In the grand scheme of their bad behavior, this is nowhere near worthy of even the annual christmas card. Still, it remains a symptom of a really disgusting disease. Something bigger than those men and the city they claim to represent on the national and, indeed, worldwide stage.  

Nothing exceeds like excess.

     Still, you can't blame Bynum for any of this, really. He's a mental deficient brought up in an environment that taught him that whatever he does is just peachy keen as long as he keeps bringing home wins. It's a shame, really. I'm sure we will soon see some public apology written by some member of his legal team who he has probably never even met before. Those are always funny because of the way these verbally gifted people have to dumb down their prose under the supposition you'll believe it was written by someone with a pound of ground beef for a brain. Perhaps this lock-out will bring them some humility. It's very doubtful, but possible.  
     Barring that, I guess we could always hire a smart midget to stand on his shoulders, wear a cool hat and tell him what to do. Watch out, Mad Max!