I know, I know -- we're on Watchmen overload this week, and the last thing you probably want to do is read anything else about the film. But I can't resist. You see, I finally discovered the reason Watchmen should never have been filmed, and left on bookshelves to be discovered by generations upon generations of readers ... the film reviews.

Or specifically, the really idiotic reviews. Like Anthony Lane's piece in The New Yorker, which has had fandom all riled up since yesterday. I think Lane has been waiting a long time for this moment, sharpening his knife in slow, delicious pleasure in order to plunge it into the heart of geekdom. Lane is proud of the fact that he didn't get it; in fact he relishes it. He "never quite worked out" whether the costumed heroes had superpowers or not, and he's puzzled as to why the film is serious when it's based on a comic book. " "Incoherent, overblown, and grimy with misogyny, Watchmen marks the final demolition of the comic strip, and it leaves you wondering: where did the comedy go?"

So what the book was one of Time Magazine's 100 Best Novels? Poo to that! It's a geek thing, worse because it's a smart geek thing, and only the most pathetic of individuals could enjoy it: "Watchmen, like V for Vendetta, harbors ambitions of political satire, and, to be fair, it should meet the needs of any leering nineteen-year-old who believes that America is ruled by the military-industrial complex, and whose deepest fear-deeper even than that of meeting a woman who requests intelligent conversation-is that the Warren Commission may have been right all along."

I'm not sure which is more amusing -- the thought of The Village Voice, Rolling Stone, and Time Magazine* being staffed entirely by anxious virgins or that implication Mr. Lane would like us to know he doesn't fear women of intelligence.