February 1, 2022 (Vol XXXV, Is. VII) - Binghamton Review

Dear Readers, Good

Morning Binghamton University! The sun is shining, the birds are singing “poo-tee-weet”, it’s really a beautiful day outside. With highs in the 80s, I recommend you wear that sunscreen that’s been disintegrating in your car for 5 months and make sure to bring your–what? What’s that? I’ve been locked inside of a small, windowless room for weeks and have convinced myself I’m a weatherman to cope with the death of my wife and small child? Ladies and gentlemen, this just in, I’ve been reading the wrong news report. What I meant to say was, with highs in the 20s, it may be hard to convince yourself that the familiar frozen tundra outside your kitchen window was once a backyard. Is this even the same house? The same life?

If you couldn’t tell, lady winter has sunk her nails deep into my back, and I fear my seasonal depression has been insidiously transforming into a type of seasonal psychosis. To add insult to injury, there are more flurries outside than there are in the theoretical ‘only McDonalds in a 100 mile radius with a working ice cream machine.’ Unsurprisingly, Binghamton University stood tall and did NOT cancel school January 25th, despite hazardous road conditions, and with the blaring horn of a blue bus still echoing in my memory, thus ensued the vehicular slaughter that took my wife and young child from me. Though I broke almost every bone in my body, I am writing this editorial agonizingly slowly, letter by letter, by typing with a pen I hold between my teeth. My letter to Binghamton University Administrative Board: Please cancel classes when we’re having a blizzard and the roads are made of 7/11 slurpee. I still have one remaining son, and I’d really hate for him to die next year when you inevitably do this again.

In other news, Welcome to this issue of the Binghamton Review! We hope your holiday break was filled with gingerbread and peppermint and chocolate and pine, as ours was. Sadly, we must return to class, even if we are still in mourning. Speaking of the Spring Semester, read Midas Leung’s “The Passion of the Spring Admit” on page 6, where he talks about how it can be difficult to make new friends in the second semester, when both the weather and people tend to be cold and uninviting.

Consider a world only 6,000 years old, where dinos may or may not still be out there dining with the sasquatch in Logan Blakeslee’s “Creationism in America: Faith turned Fanatical” on page 10. Here, he talks about Young Earth Creationism, Catholicism, and his personal experience with both. As Hozier once said: Take me to church?

Don’t forget to turn to page 12 to peek at “TDS: Types I and II” by Arthur O’Sullivan. Finally, an article where political humor and references to the DSM-5 collide; pinch me, I must be dreaming. What does TDS stand for, you ask? That’s a mystery you’re going to have to find out yourself. By reading the article!

Finally, as I am legally required to plug my own writing, you NEED to look at “The Fault in Our Sequels” on page 14. Here I discuss the problem of movies being made solely for cash rather than out of passion and how it’s been affecting the industry. In the sequel within, I talk about how sequels are not all bad and can actually be a transformative work. #notallsequels. That’s all for this issue! Good luck with your spring classes, and as always, thanks for reading.

Sincerely,

Madeline Perez

Our Mission

Binghamton Review is a non-partisan, student-run news magazine founded in 1987 at Binghamton University. A true liberal arts education expands a student’s horizons and opens one’s mind to a vast array of divergent perspectives. The mark of true maturity is being able to engage with these perspectives rationally while maintaining one’s own convictions. In that spirit, we seek to promote the free and open exchange of ideas and offer alternative viewpoints not normally found on campus. We stand against dogma in all of its forms, both on campus and beyond. We believe in the tenents of free expression and believe all sudents should have a voice on campus to convey their thoughts. Finally, we understand that mutual respect is a necessary component of any prosperous society. We strive to inform, engage with, and perhaps even amuse our readers in carrying out this mission.

Views expressed by writers do not necessarily represent the views of the publication as a whole.

Advice Column

I offered to give you all life advice. These were your questions.

Where should I dorm on campus next year? Need help deciding.

The sewers beneath campus are quite cozy year-round. Also, the smell isn’t that bad since it dissipates around the engineering building. You know what I’m talking about.

Can I uh get a bugrger with frie?

Excuse me? This is an Ikea. I can get you Swedish Meatballs.

I’m making a quesadilla for lunch?

Is this a question or a statement? Did you ever end up making that quesadilla for lunch? Why have you made me ask the questions?

I’m not racist, but whenever I turn my head more than ten degrees, my neck starts popping as loudly as the Battle of the Bulge. I’m not particularly misogynistic either, but the neck-popping is becoming a real problem for me, and I’m starting to feel insecure about it with my friends. I would appreciate any advice from you, Abby, and hope that you have a good day.

You may not be racist or misogynistic, but I am. Society has convinced you that neck-popping is something that needs to be “fixed,” when it’s really society that needs to be fixed for holding this view. Stay true to yourself, and pop your neck with pride. Also, who is Abby?

A genie granted me three wishes. What should my last wish be?

Wish for Binghamton Review to get a new office, the bearcat’s paw didn’t work out for us.

HOW DO I GET TO BINGHAMTON?! I’VE BEEN DRIVING FOR THREE WEEKS NOW AND I CAN’T FUCKING FIND IT!

Have you tried Google maps? If that doesn’t work, try turning left. If that doesn’t work, try turning around. If you are still failing to find Binghamton, perhaps try dropping out of college. If you don’t want to do that, look for the alluring green light of the library tower, like the lost woman for whom you pine for across the bay.

I met a gnome in the nature preserve the other day. I went up to say hi, but he cast a spell on me, and gave me dreams of gnomes :) I don’t have a question, but I thought it was cool :D

… What? …

Why is Binghamton Review called Binghamton Review?

The name Binghamton Review comes from the days of yore, back before the city of Binghamton even existed. In the 1800’s, one archeologist, Ida Belmont, uncovered a golden tablet from the ground, and upon blowing the dust off dramatically, she found the remnants of a dead language. Spending the rest of her life attempting to translate, she was driven to madness. Upon her death, when sorting through her belongings, her daughter Hellen found all of her life’s work culminated in one phrase, the only one she was able to accurately translate, and was driven mad by: Binghamton Review.

Is this question rhetorical?

Are you rhetorical?

I’m having a hard time getting up for my 2 pm classes on Monday. How do I drop it? I’m a freshman btw…

Try going to bed before the sun rises, it makes getting up at noon way easier. If you still want to drop that class though, all you need to do is visit the registrar’s office and fill out the dropout form.

Should I live with my girlfriend before marrying her? What will God think? What if she disapproves of my goon cave? Do not ask what that is.

Is she willing to pay rent? If not, don’t bother adding the extra weight to your expenses. You know we’re probably entering another recession right? If she is going to pay rent I don’t think God will care, he has abandoned this world already.

Help I’ve pulled myself up by my bootstraps but now I can’t stop and I am rapidly entering the thermosphere. How will my absence affect others? Explain your answer in social, economic, and scientific terms. Some advice on how to get down is also appreciated…

That’s just Reaganomics baby! You won’t be coming down anytime soon, at least until the housing bubble bursts.

I got a B+ on my IQ test and I want some ice cream to celebrate. What are some good spots in town to get a slice?

A slice? Of Ice cream? Are you psycho?? Unless you’re talking about Ben & Jerry’s Pint Slices, a sweet summer treat to refresh and invigorate you, I fail to understand how you can get a slice of ice cream. Also, a B+ is nothing to celebrate; if you’re not first, you’re last, and in this world, anything short of perfection deserves no ice cream reward, slice or otherwise... I also can’t really relate since personally, I got an F on my IQ test, for fabulous.

Need life advice? Email manager@binghamtonreview.com for more wacky, quirky, and zany responses.

New Year, New me.

By M. Quinn

In2023 I am going to be unrecognizable. Clean break. Here’s my plan.

1. I am going to sleep in the gym so that my body learns how to work out for eight hours at a time. In two weeks, I’ll be able to lift 500 pounds without breaking a sweat. I hate the legs that carried me through last year. The clock struck midnight, which means it’s time to exercise more.

2. I will weigh forty-two pounds by March (pure muscle). 6 celery sticks a day and one lemon water with Stevia on Fridays-my cheat day. I have a folder on my computer of dozens of diets, and each of them is the only one that will work. I hate the memories of birthday cake and late-night french fries and movie theater popcorn and summer hamburgers from all of last year. The clock struck midnight, which means it’s time to lose weight.

3. My home will be a single white room with one blanket and two books, painted beige. There will be so little clutter that I will create an impossible vacuum of matter and destroy the world. I’ll be able to find all of my missing hair ties and never lose my phone charger. I hate every ticket stub and passed note and polaroid photo and impulse bought tchotchke and all the jumbled memories from last year. The clock struck midnight, which means it’s time to get organized.

4. I will spend 26 hours each day making money. You think there are only 24? Wrong. That’s the mindset of an unsuccessful person. My bank account has a number you’ve never even seen. My eyes are bleeding from staring at dropshipping sites, but I’ll replace them with gold. Life is a whetstone and I’m getting grinding. I hate every moment I spent on immaterial goals last year. The clock struck midnight, which means it’s time to be more successful.

5. I’m going to memorize every single book in the university library. I’ll bet you didn’t know that there are grades above A+. I’ll have a PhD before I have a Bachelor’s. They’ll make up a new Nobel Prize for general brilliance. I hate every second I got distracted from my homework to talk to friends or read or draw or enjoy myself last year. The clock struck midnight, which means it’s time to get better grades.

6. This year I’m going to be so happy all the time. My face will freeze in a smile. I’ll never need any medication again.

Whenever anyone says anything mean, I will literally be unable to hear it. Instead, I’ll hear the inevitable applause of strangers around who are seeing me for the first time. I hate every bit of complexity in life, and everything that makes moments meaningful. The clock struck midnight, so I’m going to be so happy.

Daily Plan

Working out: Eight Hours

Relaxing: One minute

Making Money: Sixteen Hours

Sleeping: One half hour

Studying: Sixteen Hours

Cleaning: Eight Hours

I am going to be perfect. I am going to be thin.

I am going to be strong. I am going to be flawless. I am going to be smart. I am going to be successful.

I am going to be unbearably, complexly happy. (How could I not be?)

I am grateful for the year ahead, and scornful of the years behind. Every year I was a failure. This is just one more tick on the loser tally. It doesn’t matter that it’s only because of them I’ve gotten this far. I will do everything every day.

I am grateful that nothing unexpected will happen to throw off my goals. I am grateful that I will never burn out. I am not grateful for the opportunity to love myself and find joy in my life.

I am not grateful for the symbolic clean slate and the chance to improve next year for the people I care about.

They’re all getting cut out.

I am not going to be a better person, I am going to be the best person. I am

“I will spend 26 hours each day making money. You think there are only 24? Wrong.”

going to be a new me because I have to be.

Because the old me isn’t good enough in any way. And extremes are the only way to fix it all.

I can’t afford to be reasonable, because I’ve tried to be reasonable. This is my year.

Be better to yourself. The new year is just a reason to celebrate, take a deep breath, and be proud and grateful that you are wherever you are.

The Passion of the Spring Admit

By Midas Leung

Iamlucky to have my family: my brothers, my sister, my mother, and late father. I have always seen them as a priority in my life and I will continue to do so, but it is starting to feel like a moral obligation rather than a familial love. I cried more when I left my friends than when my mom first dropped me off at a college.

Matter of fact, I actually cried myself to sleep my first few nights at Binghamton, not because I missed my family, but because it was my first time being alone. My lowest point would be writing down bible verses, but that would not last that long. Being a spring admit had left me alone in a community that had people coming back from fall semester already with friends they had made beforehand. I was lucky enough to have some friends that were in Binghamton at the time, but I needed more; sure, they introduced me to their own group, but I knew that I was not going to fit in there.

The first time I stepped into the C4 for breakfast I swear to god everyone was looking at me. It felt like eyes were all on me as if they knew I was not supposed to belong. For my first meal here, I got pizza and a cup of tea but couldn’t eat in the dining hall because I felt a suffocating pressure on me when I was there, so I ate in my lounge in Endicott. Seeing everyone easily going to their classes since they knew where everything was while I was lost was painful, so I spent my first few days just wandering around for hours, mostly in the nature preserve until there was a solid inch of snow on my head.

There were so many activities like bowling, pool, ping pong, foosball, and clubs. So many I would love to do but, at the same time, I was scared of what people would perceive; Some lonerr bowling or some weirdo playing pool by himself. Sure, looking back on it now, it would be stupid to think that, but I had no idea what I was doing or what the norm was at Binghamton. I felt way too distant from my friends

that were here since the fall semester. To add insult to injury, watching my group chats from back home blow up about planning activities while all I could do was watch them from afar, unable to participate, felt gut-wrenching to me.

While being a loner in my room scared of everything outside, I found myself checking my email. “Spring Admit Hot Coco Meet and Greet.” I couldn’t help but think Oh, that seems interesting!, but when I would arrive, most would not be starting college as a spring admit, but were transfers from other colleges. Most already knew their way of life; only a select few I met actually had some interests that were similar to mine. Once the whole

event was about to end, I was about to think that it was a failure as I only had briefly met two people, gaining their social media. Thinking of this failure, I saw by the exit a group of people that were also about to leave the event and I thought “fuck it, what is the worse that could happen?” Little did I know, those to who I had given my last bit of effort would be the ones that would stick with me the most up until the present and my hope, to the distant future. I room with them now in Mountainview and they make every day so fun I can’t imagine relating to my previous mindset of considering transferring out.

To those who are just coming to Binghamton as a spring admit, remember people will not come to you, you will have to put yourself out there and connect in order for people to understand you.

“Seeing everyone easily going to their classes since they knew where everything was while I was lost was painful, so I spent my first few days just wandering around for hours, mostly in the nature preserve until there was a solid inch of snow on my head.”

I Am-Oak, I Am-Acorn

By M. Quinn

I Am-Oak

I am old and strong

I wonder when I’ll fall

I hear so many lives in progress

I see the people living them

I want to stretch my arms out to them I am old and strong

I pretend I’m a statue I feel children climbing I touch the clouds

I worry I won’t make it until spring I cry as it rains I am old and strong

I understand others will take my place I say nothing I dream of the sun

I try to dance with the wind I hope to live forever

I am old and strong

I Am-Acorn

I am young and hopeful

I wonder if I’ll grow

I hear the worms dig

I see the light glimmer as I rise I want to be strong

I am young and hopeful

I pretend to stretch my arms I feel the cool dirt

I touch as high as I can I worry I’ll never make it

I cry as the sun sets

I am young and hopeful

I understand not much I say what I feel I dream of growing older

I hope I’ll reach the summer

I am young and hopeful

AI, the Scourge of Humanity?

By Joe Badalamenti

In the past century, technological advancement has been growing at an exponential rate. Artificial Intelligence (or AI), a specific application of computing technology, has been developed to complete increasingly complex tasks: DallE has the ability to generate unique and detailed paintings; ChatGPT has the ability to create essays, code slices, and other complex compositions, all the while newer, more advanced AI programs are being developed each day. Will Artificial Intelligence programs reach a point where they can completely impersonate and possibly replace humans? Or is this apocalyptic vision just a sci-fi fantasy?

We can begin this discussion with a definition of Artificial Intelligence. Artificial Intelligence is simply a set of algorithms executed by a computer to perform a task or set of tasks defined by the user. The complexity of the task depends on the breadth of the programming and models used by the AI program. One typical process of developing AI is known as machine learning, where “data,” also called “training sets,” are fed to a program in order to generate accurate responses and predictions. As the training sets come to resemble a realistic portrayal of the world, the AI program is able to produce better answers or predictions—one could say it becomes more intelligent. To fully understand why these predictions work, one would require some knowledge of advanced math and statistics. But for the sake of simplicity, I will not stray into those topics.

One of the most glaring limitations of AI is that these programs can only operate through the language of computing. This means that for a complicated task, the input must be converted into a language that the computer understands, then transcribed back into the desired medium. To understand this limitation, let’s take the generation of an AI painting (done using craiyon.com). First, I would need to type an input for the picture I want generated. If I want a picture of a monkey at a typewriter, I would have to type “funny monkey at a typewriter.” The program would then compile its training sets to determine what combination of pixels would resemble a monkey at a typewriter. After a while, the AI program would display the desired picture. (see pictures).

Another limitation of AI is that of error, and there are two ways in which error affects the performance of AI. One type is error in training sets. This bias refers to any errors or discrepancies in the training sets used to create the model. Going back to the picture example, if a training set shows a stop sign to be slightly orange instead of red, the AI program will believe that a stop sign is orange and generate an orange stop sign whenever asked. Error in data sets can typically be resolved by using larger or more realistic data sets. A more significant type of error is creator bias: AI programs are ultimately created by humans, and as a result, AI programs will resemble the values and biases of their creators. This can become a significant problem if biases in humans/data sets deviate from true, objective reality.

With all that being said, will AI progress to the point where it can perfectly replicate human behavior? Put simply:

No. Some scientists may argue that it’s a matter of better programming or technology or training sets, but this approach completely misunderstands the problem. To best understand the issue, one must pose the question: What defines a human? This question was best answered by scholastic psychology. The Scholastics were a collection of medieval philosophers who investigated spiritual and theological questions., Concerning the definition of humanity, St. Thomas Aquinas in his Summa Theologiae answers that a human must have a soul. A soul is an aspect of an organism; it is what separates living things from things that are not living. Unlike other organisms, humans have a rational soul, which means that it has unique abilities, specifically an intellect and a will. Intellect refers to the ability to have an imagination; it is the ability to comprehend concepts, ideas, and abstractions beyond physical objects. The will or free will refers to the ability to make choices freely or to have agency. Now that I have defined the rational soul, I propose that any AI program, computer, robot, or any electronic device made now or in the future has neither an intellect nor a will. To illustrate this point, a civil society is not something physical, but with intelligence, one can comprehend the essence of society; with agency, one can choose to, or not to, live in society. If you examine an AI program you will see that it is limited only to its programming; it can only act as it is programmed to. This means that it can never have a will on par with Man, which has no such constraints. This also means that any AI program can, ironically enough, never possess the full faculty of intelligence. While AI programs can understand complex arrangements of numbers or sets or pieces of code, AI can not understand what those arrangements represent. Clever programmers may be able to create an AI program to generate an effective code segment or profound piece of art. In the long run however, AI is just a tool that follows a set of commands. This revelation has a number of implications, most importantly that AI can never fully replace humans.

While AI is ultimately just a tool, that does not mean that it isn’t dangerous. Much like modern weaponry, AI can be used to harm others whether maliciously or unintentionally. Thus, an ethical framework for AI development is necessary. Whatever the form that AI takes, it should primarily function to serve humanity, specifically the intellect and will of Man through its function. As AI continues to become more advanced, programmers should remember to maintain a moral framework during all stages of development.

An AI Totally Didn’t Write This

By ChatGPT

Once upon a time, the board of the Binghamton Review magazine was in a heated debate over the contents of their next issue. Madeline, the editor in chief, wanted to feature articles on the benefits of universal healthcare and the importance of intersectionality. Dillon, the managing editor, was all for it, but only when he had his beard. Without it, he became a completely different person, who was all for cutting government spending and reducing regulations. It was like he had a Jekyll and Hyde situation going on.

Sid, the treasurer, was struggling to keep track of the magazine’s finances. He was so absorbed in his economics textbooks that he often forgot to pay the bills on time, much to the dismay of the rest of the board. He would often get lost in numbers and equations, and the other members would have to snap him out of it.

Shayne, the copy desk chief, was the life of the party. He would often break out into spontaneous renditions of Japanese pop songs and make silly faces at anyone who would look his way. He was also known for his love of all things Japanese, from anime to sushi. He even had a collection of Japanese action figures that he kept on his desk.

Arthur, the social media poster, was the resident neo-conservative. He would often use his mastery of sarcasm to mock the liberal views of Madeline and Dillon. He also had a love for memes and often incorporated them in the magazines social media posts.

One day, the board decided to take a break from their heated debates and go out for a team-building exercise. They ended up at a karaoke bar, where they decided to put their differences aside and sing together. Madeline sang “Imagine” by John Lennon, Dillon sang “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen, Sid sang “Money, Money, Money” by ABBA, Shayne sang “Kimi no Na Wa” by Radwimps and Arthur sang “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor.

As they sang together, they realized that despite their differences, they were all united in their love for the Binghamton Review magazine. From that day on, they worked together in harmony and the magazine became more successful than ever before.

But things were not always smooth sailing for the board. One day, Madeline came into the office with bright pink hair. The rest of the board was in shock, and Arthur couldn’t help but make a sarcastic comment about how it was a perfect representation of her liberal views. But Madeline didn’t let it get to her, she was proud of her new hair and loved the way it made her stand out.

Sid was also having a tough time, as he had a tough time with the magazine’s finances. He was always forgetting to pay bills, and the rest of the board was starting to get frustrated with him. They decided to come up with a solution, and they came up with the idea to set reminders on his phone for all the bills that needed to be paid.

Shayne was always a bit of a wild card, with his love for all

things Japanese and his tendency to break out into song at any given moment. But one day, he took it a bit too far. The board was in the middle of an important meeting when Shayne suddenly started singing the theme song from his favorite anime. The rest of the board was not amused and decided to set some ground rules for Shayne’s behavior in meetings.

Arthur was always the resident conservative on the board, but he had a hidden talent that no one knew about. He was a master of origami. He would often be found folding paper cranes during the meetings, and the rest of the board found it quite amusing. They decided to have a competition to see who could make the best origami creation, with Arthur as the judge. Madeline made a beautiful swan, Dillon made an intricate samurai helmet, Sid made a complex geometric shape, and Shayne made a cute little Pikachu. In the end, Arthur declared Madeline’s swan as the winner, much to her surprise.

One day, the board received a letter in the mail inviting them to a fancy gala to celebrate the magazine’s success. They were all excited to get dressed up and attend the event, but they were in for a surprise when they found out that the dress code was formal attire. Madeline, who was always a bit of a free spirit, decided to wear a bright pink dress to match her hair, Dillon decided to shave his beard for the first time in months, Sid decided to wear a bow tie, Shayne decided to wear a traditional Japanese yukata, and Arthur decided to wear a suit and tie.

When they arrived at the gala, they were greeted by a sea of fancy dresses and suits. They felt a bit out of place, but they didn’t let it get to them. They mingled with the other guests, enjoyed the delicious food and drinks, and even got up on stage to sing a group rendition of “We Are the Champions” by Queen.

After the gala, the board realized that despite their quirks and differences, they were a great team and had accomplished a lot together. They were proud of the magazine and all that they had achieved. From that day on, they continued to work together in harmony and the Binghamton Review became one of the most successful student magazines in the country.

The end.

This article is published uneditied. This photo was made by an AI program with the prompt: Binghamton Review.

Creationism in America: Faith Turned Fanatical

Ihavea confession to make: I am obsessed with Young Earth Creationism. It all started in late June 2018, when I met Baptist preacher and repeat criminal Kent Hovind at a Christian summer camp here in Broome County. The event changed the way I thought about science, evolution, and religion, but not in the way you might expect. Before I get ahead of myself, let me divulge a bit more about Hovind’s grand visit to upstate New York.

Hovind, or “Doctor Dino” as he likes to refer to himself, arrived at the Path of Life Camp late in the evening. He was on a lecture tour called “Creation Crusade” that started in Florida and crept northward in search of a receptive audience. Hundreds of people of all ages gathered in a gymnasium-turned-dining hall for the night, and were served delicious homemade “Southern foods”: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, the usual. It was the largest gathering of people I had ever seen in rural Broome, and I say that as a local myself! The parking lot outside was completely full, and because of my late arrival, I had to settle for parking a little way down a steep hill. My enthusiasm was untouched, and my curiosity deepened.

It was my first time visiting the camp as well, having only learned of it after seeing an event posting on Facebook a few days prior. Discussion of dinosaurs was promised, and my love of paleontology drew me in. I approached the first table I saw inside the gym, bought a ticket for the event, and was pleasantly surprised to see my old pastor as the new camp director. We chatted for a moment before I had to take my seat. Then, not long afterward, a roar of applause swept over the enormous room. Kent Hovind emerged in front of a large projector screen. The next two hours of his presentation rocked my worldview forever.

For those who may not be aware, Young Earth Creationism is based on a literal interpretation of the Bible. It posits that the Earth is between 6,000-

By Logan Blakeslee

10,000 years old (give or take a few millennia) and that Darwinian evolution does not exist. Variations of this ideology have existed for centuries, but its modern incarnation was founded by Henry M. Morris and John C. Whitcomb in the seminal text The Genesis Flood. Together they theorized that the planet’s geologic history can be explained via the Great Flood, an event in the Book of Genesis wherein the Earth’s surface was completely covered by water. Similarly, it explains the differences in human culture and language to the fall of Babel.

Hovind covered these topics and plenty more. He represents one faction of Young Earth Creationists who believe that dinosaurs were present in the Garden of Eden, and that most of them went extinct after the deluge. It gets more interesting from there. As I discovered upon purchasing one of his books (Claws, Jaws, & Dinosaurs), Hovind is actually an amateur cryptozoologist as well as a preacher. Co-author William J. Gibbons has even explored the Congo multiple times in search of a legendary creature known as Mokele Mbembe, allegedly a surviving sauropod dwelling in the jungle. Hovind stated that these local legends were evidence that dinosaurs did not exist millions of years ago, but rather are alive today.

During the astronomy portion of Hovind’s lecture, I managed to ask him a question that I thought was terribly clever. “If the universe were approximately 6,000 years old, why does the light from stars take hundreds of thousands to millions of years to reach Earth?” I inquired. Other attendants asked questions about evolutionary bias or religious discrimination in public schools, but I wanted to break from the norm. Hovind’s response to me caught me by surprise. He answered, referencing Genesis 1:16, that God created starlight instantaneously. After all, if Adam was already an adult upon his creation, then light could appear older than it really was.

Having been raised Baptist myself, I knew the basics of creation from the Old

Testament. The thoroughness of scientific creationism, however, is deeper and more complex than I could have ever imagined. After the presentation was over, I immediately purchased several more books on the subject and even acquired Hovind’s autograph on one of them. Over the years I have built a small collection of creationist paraphernalia, not necessarily because I personally believe in it—I will get to that later—but because alternative worldviews are utterly fascinating to me.

I got a job as a counselor at that summer camp a few months afterward, making good friends with the employees I first met at the lecture. To this day, I consider it one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. The religious function behind the camp was still important at the time, and I was happy to join my young campers in Bible studies and prayer. I did my best to answer their questions about faith and what it means to be a Christian in the 21st century. My own background forced me to balance many perspectives at once; I was born Baptist and went to church often with my grandmother, but my mother is Methodist and her parents were Mormon. Not only that, but I converted to Catholicism at 16.

Young Earth Creationists do not often get along with Catholics, so in my interactions with them, I tend to omit my denomination. Most are hardcore Evangelical Protestants, at least in the United States. The old conspiracy that Catholics serve a dictatorial pope who is an enemy of the One True Faith™ is alive and well in rural America. I even saw an anti-Catholic pamphlet when visiting my co-counselor’s church, claiming that the papacy is an anti-biblical institution. I can only wonder what St. Peter may think.

Sectarianism aside, my current research on Creationism has led me to discover many uncomfortable truths about how religion is handled by western Christians. The most famous Creationist foundation in the world is Answers in Genesis, and they have two

major attractions that seek to share their beliefs with the public. One is the Creation Museum, which draws in hundreds of thousands of visitors each year, including public school students on field trips. The other is the Ark Encounter, a massive full-scale reconstruction of Noah’s Ark as well as a theme park, which draws in around a million visitors annually.

While an architectural marvel, I worry that the focus of these types of attractions is largely on profitability. The local government of Williamstown, Kentucky gave Answers in Genesis the extremely generous offer of 100 acres of land for $1 for the construction of the Ark Encounter. Yes, you read that right: $1. The organization also received tens of millions of dollars in bonds for a project that was projected to cost only $24 million. The final cost ballooned to $100 million, and new additions to the park are still being built today, including a reconstruction of the Tower of Babel (yet to be completed), a petting zoo, and a zip line.

Kent Hovind engaged in similar practices with his Dinosaur Adventure Land, a cheap roadside creationist museum and children’s park in Florida. It was seized by the IRS as a result of Hovind’s tax evasion schemes, as well as millions of dollars that were hidden away from federal authorities. Not only that, but his unreported income from speaking engagements, books, and merchandise earned him ten years in prison. Hovind’s legal troubles continued after being convicted of domestic violence against his wife in 2021. He does not seem to have learned his lesson, because Dinosaur Adventure Land was reestablished in 2018 in the state of Alabama.

Creationist institutions are not limited to fringe theme parks or book publishers. Privately owned Christian schools and colleges keep the belief system alive in the United States and have been doing so ever since the Supreme Court case Epperson v. Arkansas (1968) effectively removed Young Earth Creationism from public education. Students of law or history may recall the earlier Scopes Monkey Trial case from 1925, where a high school science teacher was fined $100 for teaching Darwinian evolution to his class. These

legal battles were very controversial and both represented major cultural shifts in America over science and religion.

While Americans are generally becoming more secularized in recent decades, a 2019 Gallup survey found that 40% of the U.S. adult population still adhere to Young Earth Creationism. Laws have been passed in some states that are more permissive to teaching the belief to young children, while others are more strictly geared towards Darwinian evolution in classrooms. This has generated endless controversy over states’ rights and private education, forcing American Evangelists to take a side in political battles which they treated with more nuance previously.

A 2008 Gallup poll discovered that 60% of Republicans believed in creationism, as opposed to 38% of Democrats. Independents ranked in between at 40%. This is not entirely surprising, as Republicans tend to be more religiously conservative, but it demonstrates the politicization of religion in the modern age. This has had the interesting effect of slowly turning religious or social conservatives into economic conservatives, an alliance forged by Ronald Reagan in the 1980s. By offering protections for biblical literalism in society, Evangelists joined forces with industrialists who promoted tax cuts and were skeptical of climate change, in addition to military interventionists.

Harkening back to the Scopes Monkey Trial, the prosecution in the case was led by William Jennings Bryan, a progressive Democrat who ran for president three times as the party’s nominee. He was a devout creationist who considered evolution to be harmful to public morality. By contrast, conservative businessmen in the late 19th century adopted Social Darwinism to justify laissez-faire capitalism. Religion and politics have a cyclical relationship, it seems.

With all of this said, I will now indulge a bit in my own opinion of the subject. While I have offered my criticism of unethical behavior among certain creationists, I do not think that the belief system is malicious whatsoever. People who take the Bible literally are not ignorant or backward. Many of its strongest proponents are highly ac-

credited scholars and researchers. The Institute for Creation Research, for example, is largely run by professors who have received their doctorates in various scientific fields, not theology.

I do think that the commercialization and politicization of Christianity in America is detrimental. Young Earth Creationists should always be wary of people who use their faith as a cash grab or a way to win votes. Donald Trump has probably never read a single chapter of the Bible. Conversely, secularists should be mindful not to demonize the religious, whether they be Christian or otherwise. The way we teach science in the United States also needs to fundamentally change in order to combat the rising acceptance of vaccine conspiracies, climate change denialism, Flat Earth Theory, and other unscientific ideas. In other words, science should be made more available to the common person instead of educated elites.

What I consider to be the real culprit behind the creation vs. evolution debate is the uncomfortable implication of science without God: a universe without inherent morality. Human beings are typically reluctant to assume that they are no different than animals, that all their emotions are just chemical reactions, and that death is just eternal nothingness. One glance at Reddit is proof enough that excessive materialism leads straight to nihilism.

I am still a Christian who accepts the full divinity of Jesus Christ, who died for the sins of all mankind and was resurrected. I am convinced that the Gospels are truthful and a reliable historical source of miraculous events. With that said, Christians should also embrace the Old Testament because it gives the context needed to understand what Jesus did for us. Study the Bible closely and pray for wisdom in deciphering the truth. Learn from other sources, too. Don’t be afraid to pick up a copy of On the Origin of Species just because it might contradict your faith. If you’re a secularist, give The Genesis Flood a try and weigh its arguments against your prior knowledge. If we understand each other’s beliefs, we might be ready to peacefully end America’s longest culture war.

TDS: Types I and II

Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS for short) can be broadly defined as an acute hysterical reaction—be it psychological, physical, or even spiritual—to the words, actions, presidency, and existence of the former president Donald J. Trump.

This phenomenon is not necessarily unique to the Orange Man: presidential derangement syndromes have been diagnosed as far back as the Elizabethan era of 2003, when the late psychiatrist and neoconservative pundit Charles Krauthammer coined the term “Bush Derangement Syndrome” in reference to the otherwise-sensible Governor of Vermont speculating that Bush had foreknowledge of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and was “suppressing the Sept. 11 report” on that basis. Krauthammer defines Bush Derangement Syndrome as, “the acute onset of paranoia in otherwise normal people in reaction to the policies, the presidency – nay – the very existence of George W. Bush.”

Of course, it’s only fair to have the mirror held up to Republicans, as Ezra Klein did in his Vox piece, “Obama Derangement Syndrome.” Klein claims that whereas BDS concerns the left’s reaction to the policies and actions of the former president, “Obama Derangement Syndrome” concerns the right’s paranoia about the then-president’s birth and race. In his terms, “[Obama Derangement Syndrome] isn’t so much paranoia about President Obama’s policies as it is paranoia about the man himself—that he is, in some fundamental way, different, foreign, untrustworthy, even traitorous.” He concludes his remarks on Obama Derangement Syndrome, saying, “the alternative explanation—the one that looks at why Obama makes some Americans so much more uncomfortable than, say, Joe Biden—requires a much harder conversation.” (While a striking line then, the apparent emergence of Biden Derangement Syndrome may warrant reconsidering this statement.)

This brings us to the big cheese himself: Donald Trump. It should be uncontroversial to say that he has a bit of an ego. From his speeches and intimations, he clearly considers himself to have transcended any modern president, Republican or Democrat—and at least in the realm of derangement, he certainly has. Whereas the previous derangement syndromes exist almost entirely in one party—directed against the president of the other—Trump Derangement Syndrome successfully transcends the partisan divide, twisting virtually every otherwise intelligent and reasonable American into tragi-comedic facsimiles of themselves at the mere mention of the TrumpTM brand. And unless you’re Amish, there is absolutely no escape from its effects.

I propose that this Trump Derangement Syndrome, broadly defined at the beginning of this article, can be divided into two types: I and II, like diabetes. Though the symptoms may appear radically different or even diametrically opposed, the root causes are the same: excessive exposure to media pertaining to Trump, superfluous free time, lack of contact with the human-sunlight-grass trifecta, and co-morbid psychiatric disorders severely elevate the risk of contracting TDS. The following are the major symptoms of each type:

Type I (Trumpmisia):

The default definition of TDS: it follows similar patterns

By Arthur O’Sullivan

to the aforementioned derangement syndromes, but is elevated beyond the possibility of parody. Type I TDS is very common among liberal, progressive, and otherwise left-wing individuals and groups. Notable cases among these groups are too numerous to count but often manifest in bizarre or otherwise embarrassing ways (see below). Type I TDS is not exclusive to the left; notable conservative (or formerly conservative) individuals with Type I TDS include Bill Kristol, David French, and Jennifer Rubin.

Exhibiting (5) or more of the following symptoms indicates Type I TDS:

You are Shia LaBoeuf or unironically supported Shia LaBoeuf’s “He Will Not Divide Us” campaign.

You spend five or more hours a week per annum seething about Donald Trump on social media.

You use late-night talk shows as a principal source of news. You took part in Binghamton University’s 2019 protest of the economist Arthur Laffer due to his brief involvement with the Trump administration.

You staunchly believe that the classified documents at Mar-a-Lago were nuclear codes for sale.

You fulminated at Merrick Garland appointing a special prosecutor for Biden’s classified documents case, because “Trump’s case was worse.”

You firmly believed that the Russia-gate investigation, January 6th commission, or Trump’s taxes would result in anything.

Type II (Trumpphilia):

An inversion of Type I TDS, Type II exists almost exclusively on the right. Whereas those suffering from Type I TDS exist in a state of paranoid contrarianism about every action that Donald Trump has made or will ever make, Type II TDS patients exhibit a rabid and unrelenting loyalty to the former president, the obnoxiousness of which is matched only by their body odor. Notable conservative individuals with Type II TDS include Rudy Giuliani, Tim Pool, Ted Cruz, among many other diverse people. Exhibiting (5) or more of the following symptoms indicates Type II TDS:

You were the crying woman who made that “Save Us President Trump!” tik-tok.

Your reflexive reaction to any criticism of Donald Trump is defense.

In defending Donald Trump, you are quick to compromise or change your principles.

You own a “Keep America Great” hat.

You believe that Mike Pence, Ted Cruz, and Mitch McConnell are RINOs (Republicans in Name Only).

You tried or continue to use “alt-media” (e.g. TruthSocial, Bitchute etc.) to get “the truth.”

You believed that Trump would win by a landslide in 2020, and/or held that the election was rigged when he did not.

You stood by each and every one of President Trump’s cabinet picks, including when he fired them.

Regardless of the type, TDS remains a destructive psychiatric pandemic that requires a major intervention on behalf of the “grass-touching”-industrial complex.

Accounts from a Gen Z Male in 2028 - Part III

By Anonoomer

Our hero faces his greatest struggle yet: surrounded in his unit’s Ukrainian bunker by a battalion of Russian zoomers, and constantly being stalked by a supernatural animatronic wolf, he must battle in his very body and soul against starvation and despair. For real…

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick… …

Tock.

Like maddening drips of water from a Chinese torture instrument upon my brow, the barricaded mess hall’s clock inconsistently ticked and tocked to a rhythm as predictable as the Chinese app which took its name.

Tick. Tock. Tick… Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick…

A briny solution of tears and sweat stung my eyes: ‘The clock. The clock! KILL THE CLOCK! KILL THE CLOCK!’ cried an heretofore unfamiliar voice in my head. Even a week earlier, I might have submitted to its demands—at least then I still had the spirit for it. Yet no amount of training or conditioning could have prepared me for three months in the same mess hall, ironically devoid of food after only two weeks.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick … …

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

In happier days, our unit would have sprung to attention at that sound. But now, not even the officers could bring themselves out of the hot-hungry stupor of the present moment. This siege’s relentless assault on each of our senses took its toll:

You might think there’s nothing scary about the sight, touch, sound, taste, and smell of a three-months occupied military mess hall, and maybe ordinarily you’d be right. It used to be that I could only see my friends in other squads here, during meals. We’d catch up, tell stories of our romantic conquests: hunky Ukrainian women, easy Russian guys… whatever the hell Jeb Bush is… but we ran out of those stories after 15 minutes last October—also my arm started getting tired. Now, opening my eyes would reveal the same stinking mess hall in the same stinking bunker on the same stinking border of the same stinking countries. (I lost some vocabulary after a while with Mel.) My eyelids provided respite from the sight of our condition, yet my ears could not deafen themselves to the alarm clock. At least the alarm obscured the stalking screeches of the

“A briny solution of tears and sweat stung my eyes: ‘The clock. The clock! KILL THE CLOCK! KILL THE CLOCK!’ cried an heretofore unfamiliar voice in my head”

animatronic, always mechanically pacing outside our barricaded door, perhaps attracted to the stench of death and Axe which permeated the hall. I smacked my chapped lips, longing for my electric Fortnite toothbrush and the fluoride waters of America, and with Herculean effort, decided to get up.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Apparently, I was the first to rise, despite the unrelenting noise. Everyone else languished in their restless death, this mountainous bunker their pyramidal tomb. ‘Early to bed and early to rise makes man something something…’ I thought to myself, as I mechanically shebambled to the clock.

‘KILL THE CLOCK! KILL THE CLOCK! KILL THE CLOCK!’ The demon inside reached an orgiastic fever, in disproportion to the actual fever from which my body suffered. Still, the knowledge that I was the only one standing filled me with enough self-righteous energy to act: I killed the clock.

This disruption to the malaise was enough to jolt a few of the living stragglers in the room. Melvin was among them, as he rose up to greet another day. Melvin was in fact taking this well, as his civilian life was apparently not unlike this situation, just with less human contact. But even he had a breaking point, and for him, hope for rescue gave out before his will to act.

“Good morning. I like your cut G. I’m out.”

“Out? Tf you talking about Mel?”

“I’m leaving, no cap. I’m opening that door and walking home for real.”

“Mel, you headass critter. If you remove the barricade, we’ll be un-alived in seconds. Especially you.”

“I don’t give a rat-waifu’s ass what happens. Getting vored by that robot or busted on by a bunch of Russians is better than staying here, on God. Besides, who’s gonna stop me? You? I thought you didn’t care anymore…”

I realized he had a point. I shouldn’t care. Caring is mid. “Ok. Good luck.” I said.

Mel concluded, “Bye, Felicia!”

With one last stupid meme, Mel turned and dismantled the barricade unimpeded. As I wondered whether an epitaphist would willingly carve those words on his grave, I heard the creaking of the door open, and closed my eyes, feeling a twinge of fear for myself and Mel.

The Fault in our Sequels

By Madeline Perez

We are living in a dystopian nightmare. This is not up for debate. What is up for debate, however, is what exactly makes this tormented hellscape we call ‘slice of life’ so dystopian. Some of the politically minded may think it’s the libs, with their social medias and their genders; others, the rightists, with their Columbus Day and gas stoves. I’m proud to say that it is neither and that I am better than all of you simple-minded plebs: The true reason society is crumbling lies in our very own theaters, as remakes and sequels level our cultural evolution in the most anti-Darwinian backpedaling we’ve seen since Weezer.

A famous authoress once said, “If there’s one thing I hate more than sexual assault, it’s unnecessary movie reboots.” In her questionable phrasing, she sought not to minimize the damage of assault, but to stress just how unethical these reboots are, of which there truly is no parallel. That authoress was me, and me is she, and I promised to unpack that loaded sentence not intended to be taken at face value at a later date. Well, the day of reckoning is upon us, just as your mother lay upon my astral cock. Stupid remakes and sequels have become the bane of my existence, dialectically opposing me in a way that also gives me the will to go on, the will to fight and die for a cause I know will never win nor make a dent in this great societal cage-refrigerator I have been locked inside of.

This blight of depravity is killing my favorite things with the same valor

in which millennials killed shopping malls, the housing market, and marriage. (Will their taste for blood ever truly subside?? I’ve escaped a savage Millennial once or twice, fleeing only when their attention shifted to the Harry Potter paraphernalia I tossed in the opposite direction.) Quality movies are now few and far between, and box offices are littered with sequels, prequels, horror movies juxtaposed by starring some childhood character, live remakes of Disney movies, or possibly a biography about some dead singer (or alive, in Elton John’s case, but let’s give that a couple years). Of course, the theaters also need some softcore movie porn thrown in for the unsatisfied middle-aged wives on Zoloft (with vivid fantasy lives) who either resent the more explicit internet porn for “ruining their husbands” or don’t know of its existence. And oh, can’t forget the Marvel military propaganda that has been turning the general population into sleeper cells until they hear the phrase “I like DC comics better” or “Gamergate.”

Why is this happening? Well, aside from the fact that there’s a cruel and unforgiving God who rips away all I hold near and dear, I believe the people who make movies figured they’re bound to get more bang for their buck promoting family-friendly nostalgia-banking bullshit rather than take a chance on an original project that

will require more effort, money, and–this one’s important–an actual good idea. So, lo lo lo and behold, limp and passionless Trolls 2 and Minions 47: Return of the Banana will get advertised from here across the vast plane of outer space and back. Seven-year-olds have terrible taste in movies after all, so what do they care? (Besides me. I was a very pretentious seven-year-old, after all.)

There are other factors: Yes, the movie-goer industry is dying and everything is streaming now and 123movies and video killed the radio star. I’m sure everyone remembers when COVID happened and unprecedented times were unprecedented. Lots of small-town theaters were killed off, it’s been getting harder for smaller companies to profit off of movies, and, in a world where only the strong survive, this leaves a huge gap for larger companies to swoop in like a hawk and corner the market which is the field mouse in this emotionally-stressful simile. The monopoly man is real (and no, he does not have a monocle, you’re confusing him with the more refined Mr.Peanut), he has a gun, and his name is Disney. As I sit atop my

abandoned tower, I can only dream that one day my prince will come, and these incessant sequels, remakes, and frankly terrible movies will be wiped from the planet, as well as my memory. That is, unless the sequel is… good?

TO BE CONTINUED?

“This is an example of really good casting because Jonah Hill terrifies me and sometimes I think I hear him through the heating vent in my room training the mice to steal my hair clips and quarters.”

The Fault in our Sequels 2: The Sequel Within

By Madeline Perez

Now,in a shocking turn of events, I must argue my opposition in my promise to (dearly departed mentor figure) to always stay faithful to myself. Sequels CAN be good, actually, and at times will surpass the original in both quality and message. There is no greater example of this than Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, which I saw a couple of weeks ago. I know I’m biased, as my extreme love for cats and Hispanic roots leave me absolutely wide-eyed and helpless in the presence of a Hispanic cat, but this was different. This movie taught me things about myself that I didn’t even know. Puss in Boots 2 wiped the slate of my life clean and allowed me to start again, to grow from the very beginning: tabula rasa in front of me and chalk-in-hand. Of course, I will not give you details from this movie because spoilers, duh! (And I expect immediately after this enticing read you will place this copy of The Review in your nearest recycling bin, hitchhike to the closest theater, and buy a ticket and a $70 bag of the most artery-clogging popcorn known to man, diet bepis to match.) Rather, I’m going to reflect on why sequels can be transformative and introspective in ways the original flick can only dream of.

An original movie is saddled with the expository muck of extensive character introduction and world-building. While any good sequel will touch on this too, it normally takes half the time. The biggest difference between the two is that, especially in action movies, originals tend to focus on the main character’s call to action as they are forced up from their gamer chair of normalcy into the grass-touching of heroism. The main conflict is not only with the arising villain, but the fact that the villain (or external threat) is, in a way, forcing a (normally unwilling) hero to step into their role. Think of movies like Shrek and Spider-Man (2002)—with great power comes great responsibility, after all.

Now, that’s all fine and dandy. The movie ends, the main character has been fully established as hero(ine), and the villain is defeated in a way that absolves the main character from the moral weight of actually doing the killing (in the examples above, death by milf dragon and accidental suicide by glider). This all gets flipped on its head in sequels focused on further character-building. In whatever the opposite of layman’s terms is: Transformative sequels aim to be subversive as they take the logical conclusion of the original and present a new internal conflict that forces the main character to readdress their newfound role and/or environment.

In Shrek 2: The Shrekoning, Shrek is forced to readdress his feelings of selfdoubt and internalized ogre-phobia by drinking glitter and becoming human, only to find that his feelings are stupid: Fiona can love someone who’s green, and he should be himself because everyone else is already taken. In Spider-Man

2: Return of the Goo, Tobey–I mean Peter looks inside himself to try and find if he really wants to remain Spider-Man, since he can’t hold down a job (pizza time), take care of Aunt May, or be with MJ, not to mention everyone hates him due to a series of literal ‘fake-news’ targeted attacks. Much like the secret powers of anxiety, these feelings manifest somatically as he literally starts to lose his powers (a sort of ‘projectile dysfunction’), giving him an out to live a ‘normal’ life. By the end of the film, he realizes that though he wants to shirk this ‘great responsibility,’ he has ‘great power’ and, for the sake of the greater good, he should probably remain Spider-Man (besides the fact that it’s incredibly fun to shoot goo and swing from buildings like some teenage mutant urban Tarzan.)

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is different from these particular sequels in one crucial way—--after confronting his internal conflict, Puss realizes that some of his beliefs and behaviors were harm-

ful to him and the people around him, and he actually makes the change. Puss grows as a person (cat) and the defeat of the external conflict was pleasantly directly relevant to the resolution of his internal conflict. In a similar fashion, part of what makes Megamind such a beloved movie is its transformative sequel is already built into the original. Halfway through the film, after defeating the external conflict (Metroman), Megamind now has everything he’s ever wanted and… gets bored. Not before too long, he must face his new internal conflict of wanting to be the good guy and hold hands with pixie-cut Tina Fey, a process which is expedited by the rise of Titan, the new villain. This is an example of really good casting because Jonah Hill terrifies me and sometimes I think I hear him through the heating vent in my room training the mice to steal my hair clips and quarters.

This is not always the case, however, as many sequels can be just as successful or even surpass the original in a simple retelling of the same story. In the Indiana Jones sequel, Indy never has to question his role as an extremely sweaty male heart-throb who treats women questionably. Honestly, introspection is probably not one of his strongest characteristics, as these types of sequels tend to be a more modern trend and children of the ‘80s did not want to watch their infallible heroes admit their flaws or grow as people. Go figure.

Sadly, most sequels do not make the grade. They ARE money grabs, they SUCK BALLS, and they DO NOT RESPECT THE SOURCE MATERIAL. Toy Story 4 has driven me into blind rage more times than I can count, and by just mentioning it I feel another excessively violent fugue state creeping up on me. You should probably leave, but before you go always remember: good sequels are possible, most are failures, and always stay faithful to yourself.

Happy watching!