Book of Crap
It's hot. The kind of hot that makes watching National Treasure: Book of Secrets on pay-per-view seem like a good idea. Here's a tip....it's not. I blame the fact that we sat through the whole mess on the fact that we were too stupified by heat to hit the off button. Oh my lord is it bad.

The first National Secrets film we saw in a hotel room in Portland. (We're married, we don't have wild hotel sex anymore.) It was mildly amusing. The sequel was more than mildly annoying. The plot (such as it was) made no bloody sense at all. Especially Ed Harris as the bad guy. He spends a large chunk of the movie shooting at Nicholas Cage. (Oh if only his aim was better!) Then, at the end, he spends a large chunk of time saving Cage, Cage's sidekick, and Cage's love interest. For no apparent reason. Just saving them. Then he tries to kill them again. Again, for no apparent reason.

Cage breaks into the Queen's private study in Buckingham Palace and kidnaps the president, all so he can prove some dead ancestor of his was not part of the Lincoln assassination plot. Seems like a lot of felonies to go through just to show a completely couldn't-care-less world that Uncle Dead Guy was innocent. Oh, and how the hell did they get Helen Mirren to agree to be in this disaster? Do the producers have blackmail photos of her?

My favorite line of the movie was something like: "he's a professional mercenary and a dealer in antiquities." I told Husband I want that on a business card.

The scariest thing about the movie is that it completely set up National Treasure 3: Written by Baboons. If they actually make that film I think they can use it in Gitmo as a way of torturing suspected terrorists. Geneva Convention be damned!