Clousems Rants about Lucy

As many of you know, I watch movies. Sometimes, I watch them recently. For example, I recently viewed the film Lucy.

And I realized that Nick Cage wasn't the only one to steal my life story in a Hollywood movie.

In fairness, this movie was more clever about it than Willy's Wonderland, using a smokescreen of confusion.
And boy, it was confusing as all hell. Why would drug dealers attempt distribution of an untested product, when so many other drug products exist? Why would they distribute these untested drugs in a distant, untested market without thorough research? Who manufactured the drug? Why would they use unreliable transporters in their first wave of distribution? Who was the guy with the hat?

But, once I remembered that I am not Kevin O'Leary of Shark Tank and stopped trying to figure out how to invest in the licensing of barbarous drug trafficking, the rip-off became clearer and clearer. I, too, became omnipotent after coming into contact with a shiny blue substance. What happened was this:

I was picking someone up from a Ke$ha concert when some jagoff called me "boogee" (boogi? I'm not sure how it's spelled, but it was pronounced "BOO-jee". TBH, my inability to spell it is kinda disconcerting, since I'm omniscient now) and walked off. Naturally, I was curious to know what the hell a Bojangles was in that context, and I raced after him. Unfortunately, I slipped on a glow stick and landed face first in a pile of what I can only assume to have been glitter laced with PCP. As I lay there, enraged by the idiocy of Ke$ha's approach to props in her musical act, the liquid from the glow-stick seeped into the angel glitter, the entirety of existence revealed itself to me. At that moment, I realized everything. My haircut changed for reasons which you could not possibly understand, only for the forces of the universe to forget about this seemingly important detail about 15 minutes later. I could levitate people with my mind, because we're all basically Professor X. In that moment, I realized that the stranger was wrong. I was not a Jojo's Bizarre Adventure!

I realized that humanity needed all the knowledge my now omnipotent head held, so I manifested a Palm Pilot filled with the secrets of the universe and gave it to the nearest person I could find. He promptly told me that nobody used Palm Pilots anymore, and it would probably run out of charge before he could write it all down, but I reminded him that disagreeing with omniscient beings is stupid.
Then I went to Taco Bell, as one does after they accidently ingest copious amounts of phencyclidine, glow-stick liquid, and glitter.

But how do I know that this movie was made to cash in on my incredible story? Well, for one, I'm omniscient. Secondly, because nobody in their right mind would make a movie with the sole purpose of ripping-off "Limitless". And finally, because the person who called me a Bee Gee on that fateful, weird night was none other than Luc Besson (or, as he went by back in those days, Miami Dolphins Quarterback Teddy Bridgewater).

I should have known Luc/Teddy would do something like this: not only am I omniscient, but he's done this bullshit before (yes, I was the inspiration for the protagonists in "Taken", "Transporter", and "The Dancer").

Yet, I find myself forgiving Besson, for, if I understood the movie right (which I'm not sure I did-- omniscience isn't all its cracked up to be), I became God at the end. And it's kinda cool to have an NFL quarterback look up to you.