My wife and I went out on a date last night for the first time in way too long.  I took her to see SALT with Angelina Jolie, because she’s been stoked for that movie since the first time she saw the commercial.

About SALT:  I fucking loved it.  If you took one of the more recent James Bond movies that are a little heavier on the action…like one of the Pierce Brosnan movies maybe, got rid of the silly villains and replaced them with proper Russian villains, got rid of James Bond and replaced him with a sexy-ass female version of Spider-Man, what you’d be left with is SALT.

And that includes all the plot holes and impossible action-y things that no human could actually do – like jumping down eight miles of elevator shaft without breaking several bones (or, actually, just dying) for example.  But I didn’t give a shit.  I gave it a pass on all the stupid shit for the same reason I (usually) give Bond movies a pass on all their stupid shit:  I was too busy having fun to be bothered by it.  In fact, I’ll just go ahead and say that it’s probably one of my favorite Bond movies in exactly the same way that GALAXY QUEST is one of my favorite STAR TREK movies.  Perfect date movie.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.