The epistolary musings of Blogcritics Aaron Fleming, of Generic Mugwump, and The Duke De Mondo, of Mondo Irlando, presented at regular intervals by way of appeasing scholars of the popular culture and also minimizing the profits of possibly paramilitary-linked bootleggers.

Matters relating to Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000.

Aaron Fleming Writes To The Duke De Mondo

Dear Duke De Mondo,

Since our last exchange there has been much turmoil down here on the underside of the equator. Firstly a member of the tribe, a nefarious and pretentious sort, was elected as the new chieftain. His reign - really more a dictatorship of the imbecile - imposed an attempted-renovation of the standard film dogmas we swam about in, and incidentally rather enjoyed. His despotic tweakings ushered in screenings of such twiddle as Cursed, Boogeyman and Resident Evil; labelling them as some sort of fresh and innovative wave of horror. This impressed few in the tribe - a bunch of deviants more interested in pointing their snouts towards Deodato and Hino; but so strong is their rigid hierarchy that any whiff of insurrection will be nothing more than a pot of boiling turtle guts.

So, let me tell you squire, I got myself the bloody hell out of there. Hiding in a box half full of Netflix returns, I was afflicted with a twelve-hour journey through, over, and on the beaten track. Eventually I snuck out whilst the driver had stopped for a closer inspection of a local nunnery. I walked a couple of miles when I arrived at a small cluster of buildings masquerading as a town. Unfortunately I had but two shillings in my possession, and knew that they would barely gift me a night’s rest in the local inn. I wandered around town for a while like a penurious Orwell; only I wore a muumuu instead of a moustache. When I got to the communal inn the landlady allowed me a bed on the condition that I’d first of all clean her DVDs, using the cleaning solution bought earlier at wholesale. I don’t know what it is with these South Americans and their DVDs, I really don’t.

I did it, and got to sleep in a room occupied by a few other transients on a nice hardwood bed. Following the drift-off into slumber, I began having a dream where I was running diagonally. The dream went on and on but I did nothing more than participate in the ongoing sprint. Against clashing shades of fluorescent green, I turned my head and saw that I was being chased down by Danny Zuko. This revelation startled me into consciousness, and I sat up in bed to see about clearing my head. I looked around the room and saw a man in the corner. He was sitting partially encircled around a flashing TV screen. I went up and asked what he was watching. Turned out it was some film by the name of Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000.