Real Real Versus Digital Real

Walking out of Beowulf the other night, I came to this realization. There are now two realities. There's the Real Real, which is the life that you and I live where we go to work and drive our cars and raise families and drink too much and usually don't look good naked in front of a mirror. Then there's the Digital Real, as told to us by Robert Zemeckis. In this world, Ray Winstone is not the pot-bellied safecracker we remember from Sexy Beast, but a lean mean hero with a penis small enough to be obscured by random objects in the Mead Hall.

And Angelina Jolie is really a nasty beast, but can make herself to look like a tattoo free Angelina Jolie to lure men to sleep with her even though they know that underneath all that she's still a stank, gnarly beast - oh and by the way she has no nipples and no real naughty parts down there so good luck with any true intercourse.

Sorry Robert, but I'll take my world on the Real Real side with pot-bellies full of Twinkies and beer and nipples long and real enough to pierce thick sweaters.