Yeah, I really wanted to like that part, but "ghey" was all that came to mind. I'm noticing that they get better as they go along.

Frankly, I was not overly impressed with the Hobbit. I liked it, and I think it was good, but I don't really understand how it became this HUGE classic...ah well. Maybe after I get through the whole thing it will feel more like it should.

gotcha

I actually read the hobbit first, before reading the trilogy and really liked it. I don't have a lot of reading time, but flew through that book.

It likely won't. It's much more of a children's book. I'm not a huge fan of it, whereas I love Lord of the Rings.

I want them to make a movie of the Harvard Lampoon's "Bored of the Rings". The success of this LotR parody gave the writers enough Moxie (Dr. Pepper and Yoohoo) to found the National Lampoon. Which was funny for it's first 3 or 4 years. At any rate, excerpts, we got excerpts

Bored of the Rings - Map of Middle Earth

Chapter III:
Indigestion at the Sign of the Goode Eats

...The village of Whee had some six dozen small houses, most of them built of wax paper and discarded corks. they were arranged in a sort of circle inside the protecting moat, whose stench alone could drop a dragon at a hundred paces.
Pinching their nostrils, the company crossed the creaky drawbridge and read the sign at the gate:

WELCOME TO QUAINT, HISTORICAL WHEE
POPULATION 1004 828 96 AND STILL GROWING

Two sleepy-eyed guards bestirred themselves just long enough to relieve the protesting Spam of his remaining tablespoons. Frito surrendered half of his magic beans, which the guards munched with speculation.
The boggies beat it before they took effect and, per Goodgulf's instructions, headed for the orange-and-green flashing sign at the center of town. There they found a gaudy plexiglas and chrome inn, whose blinking sign portrayed a boar, rampant, devoured by a mouth, drooling. Beneath it was the name of the inn, the Goode Eats & Lodging. Passing through the revolving door, the party signaled the bell clerk, whose nametag read Hi! I'm Hojo Hominigritts!. Like the rest of the staff, he was costumed as a suckling pig with false sow's ears, tail, and papier-mache' snout.

"Howdy!" drawled the fat boggie. "Ya'll want a room?"

"Yes," said Frito, stealing a glance at his companions. "We're just in town for a little vacation, aren't we, boys?"
"Vacation," said Moxie, winking at Frito broadly.
"Just a little vacation," added Pepsi, nodding his head like an idiot.
"Ya'll sign here please?" said the clerk through his fake snout. Frito took the quill chained to the desk and wrote the names ALIAS UNDERCOVER, IVAN GOTTASECRET, JOHN DOE-SMITH, AND IMA PSEUDONYM.
"Any bags, Mr., uh, Undercover?"
"Only under my eyes," mumbled Frito, turning toward the dining room.
"Wal," chuckled the clerk, "just leave these here sacks an' I'll ring a bell hop.
"Fine," said Frito, hurrying away.
"Now y'all have a good time now," the clerk called after them, "an' if y'all want anything, just ring!"
Out of earshot, Frito turned worriedly to Spam.
"You don't think he knows anything," he whispered, "do you?"
"Naw, Master Frito," said Spam, massaging his stomach. "Let's grab some grub!"...

...Suddenly, Frito's grinders jammed against a small hard object in the burger. Cursing under his breath, Frito reached into his throbbing mouth and extracted a tiny metal cylinder. Unscrewing the top, he removed a tinier strip of microvellum, on which he made out the words: Beware! You are in great danger. You are embarked on a long journey. You will soon meet a tall, dark Ranger. You weigh exactly fifty-nine pounds.
Frito drew in his breath with fright and his eyes sought the sender of this message. At last they came to rest on a tall, dark Ranger seated at the counter, a double root beer untouched before him. The lean figure was dressed entirely in gray, and his eyes were hidden by a black mask. Across his chest were crossed bandoleers of silver bullets, and a pearl-handled broadsword dangled ominously from one lean hip. As if feeling Frito's eyes upon him, he turned slowly on his stool and met them, putting a gloved finger to his lips for secrecy. He then pointed toward the door of the men's room and held out five fingers. FIVE MINUTES. He pointed toward Frito and then to himself. By this time, half the patrons had turned to watch, and thinking it was a game of charades, were encouraging him with shouts of "Famous saying?" and "Sounds like!"...
..."I have a message for you, Mr. Bugger," said the stranger.
Frito's burger rose at the sound of his true name.
"But--but I theenk you are meestaken, senor," began Frito lamely, "I velly solly but my honorable name not--"
"This message is from Goodgulf the Wizard," said the stranger, "if the name by which thee calls thyself answers to the title of Frito Bugger!"
"I are," said Frito, confused and frightened.
"And thee hast the Ring?"
"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't," countered Frito, stalling for time. The stranger lifted Frito by his narrow lapels.
"And thee hast the Ring?"
"Yes already," squealed Frito. "So I've got it! So sue me!"
"Be not afraid, allay thy fears, quail not, and hold thy horses," laughed the man. "I am a friend of thine."
"And you have a message for me from Goodgulf?" gulped Frito, feeling his burger settling a bit.
The tall one unzipped a secret compartment in a saddlebag on his shoulder and handed Frito a slip which read:
"Three shorts, four pairs socks, two shirts, chain mail, heavy starch?"
Impatiently, the stranger snatched the ancient gag from the boggie's paw and replaced it with a folded parchment. Frito's glance at the Michaelmas Seals and Goodgulf's X-rune imprinted in hardened bubble gum verified the sender.
Hurriedly he tore it open, saving the gum for Spam. For later. With difficulty he deciphered the familiar Palmer Method characters. They read:

Frito-lad,
The halberd has fallen! The fewmets have hit the windmill!
Sorhed's Nozdrul have gotten wind of our
little dodge and are beating the bush for "four boggies,
one with a pink tail." Doesn't take any abacus to figure out
somebody's spilled the gruel. Get out of wherever
you are fast, and don't lose the you-know-what.
I'll try to meet you at Wingtip, if not, look me up in
Riv'n'dell. in any case, don't take any oaken
thrupences. And don't mind Stomper, he's a good egg,
ut-bay ot-nay oo-tay ight-bray, if you know what I mean.

Must close, left something on the Bunsen,

Goodgulf

P.S. How do you like the new stationery? Picked it up for a plainchant at Hambone's Dept.!

Once again, Frito's Oink-Oink burger rose to the occasion. Fighting down it's untimely reappearance, Frito gasped, "Then we are not safe here."
"Have no fear, lowly boggie," said Stomper, "for I, Arrowroot of Arrowshirt, am with thee. Goodgulf must have spoken of me in the letter. I have many names--"
"I'm sure you do, mr. Arrowshirt," Frito broke in, panicking. "But it's mud and then some if we don't get out of here. I think somebody in this cheap joint wants my scalp, and not for a lanolin massage either!"..."

ROFL

Awesome.

FAX