I was going to write about how awful Michael Bay is, but it seems the rest of the rational world already has him pegged as the bullying, misogynistic, fan-hating, sellout that he is.
There’s not a lot more that I can add to that conversation.
As much as I want to look upon the Bay-infatuated youth of the day with disdain, I’m not entirely innocent myself. For some reason, despite the offerings of Spielberg, Cameron, Lucas, and Scott, I fell for some really terrible movies that time has mostly forgotten, films likely responsible for my own generation’s brand of narcissism: the idea that no matter how much of a nobody I am, I can grow up to be a rock star.
Here they are in all their 80’s glory: