Dead Ant, Dead Ant...

As a loyal, and often disappointed, fan of Steve Martin, I went to see Pink Panther last night. Awful. Lousy. Sgt. Bilko bad. Mixed Nuts bad. Like watching a friend become an alcoholic. In fact, I was disappointed that it wasn't worse, because then I could at least have had the joy of complaining about it in hyperbolic agony, as I do with true masterpieces of putridity like Armageddon or Tin Men. This was just plain, old-fashioned, forgettable-quality, not-funny bad.