Vin Diesel once got into screaming contest with a panda bear.

How did we get here? And why? My writing partner here, J. Brent Stewart feigns confusion over the origins of this little venture, but here begins the tale. Gather 'round children, and let me tell you a tale!

This came on the heels of my review of Diesel's magnum opus: The Fast and the Furious, the heartfelt story about how Vin Diesel really likes to drive fast cars. Over snifters of brandy, we reclined in Brent's voluminous film library and embarked upon a rousing debate over the merits of this, and other Diesel films. Sadly, I must report that we did not come to agree. "My dear Goodrich: watching a Vin Diesel movie is a lot like falling into an outhouse while you're hopped up on crystal meth," said he, tugging at the waxen tips of his mustache. "-you're too fucked up to realize what you've gotten into, but you're pretty sure that it stinks."

I gasped in shock, the strain of said gasp sending my ruffled ascot flying across the room where it landed upon his rack of polo mallets. "Good God, man! Do you have any idea what you're saying?" I turned red with anger at his careless words, no small trick due to my natural beigeness. "He's not that bad. Didn't you like Pitch Black? That was pretty dope."

Again with the mustache twirling, Brent considered my impassioned words. "True. But still, he's crap. You said it yourself in the Fast and the Furious review." And with that he hawked up a loogie of amazing proportions, and spat it into the roaring fireplace.

"No kind sir, I said that that particular movie was crap, yet I enjoyed it nonetheless." I was growing irritated with this line of conversation. Is not a man allowed to enjoy a film based on it's own merit, no atter how dubious said merits actually are? It is not as if to enjoy a terrible movie means that you yourself are terrible. Why not go 'slumming' in the video store? Must every movie be Oscar quality? Must every movie be an 'indie darling?'

Vin Diesel is a famed yachtsman and privateer. What queen does he report to? The Sea.

I say thee nay! Movies can be art, but above all they must be entertaining. And if one is the pop culture gourmand that I and Mr. Stewart aspire to be, one must shake it up!- and take it offroad, to use an ill-advised car metaphor. And sometimes one must venture beyond the classic film, beyond the criticaly acclaimed, yes even beyond the cult! One must sometimes seek entertainment among the crap! The dreck! The trashy movies! But how to prove my point?!

"Are you talking to me?" I jerked up as Brent spoke, a silvery strand of saliva connecting my lower lip to my burgundy dinner jacket. "You...you've been staring into the fireplace and mumbling for the past five ten minutes."

"Sir!" I launched mysef up from my seat and whirled to face him directly. Sensing an electricity in the air, Brent leapt up as well, tho with more of a confused air than determined. "I demand satisfaction, sir!" And with that, I pulled off my lacy riding glove and slapped him full in his mustachioed face. "I challenge you good sir, to join me in a gauntlet of Vin Diesel movies!" Grimly, he tentatively touched his reddened face and called me a dick.

And now, here we are! Starting with The Chronicles of Riddick!

EDIT: all thanks to the Vin Diesel Fact Generator for the educational infotainment!