[DESECRATION #01] 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY – THE CELESTIAL FETUS COMES TO EAT US]

Don't talk to me about metaphysics. Don't talk to me about "evolutionary leaps." Don't even start with Akhenaten’s inventions. Here, we talk about the one thing that matters: fucking food. Yes, FOOD.

That’s what this "cult movie" is actually about. (And let me tell you, Barry Lyndon is better; don't go all Tarkovsky on me).

I’m not saying a word about that godforsaken Monolith. Leave me alone with the Monolith! It’s just apes eating grass and fighting a tapir. Oh, dear Africa. Then, the ape is swallowed by a cheetah or a leopard, who knows. The ape is also food.

Then comes the puddle, and the bone... the blessed bone... the hand and the tool (Oh, how Marxist!). Suddenly, the tapir is fucked. Apes eating meat—raw tapir meat, or maybe ape meat, I don't know. Apes fighting over a puddle of rotten water, stepping into the filth. Bone to the sky.

The Space Junk

Then comes the guy, traveling alone in some sort of Concorde owned by a bankrupt airline (Elon, you’re going bust too, don't get your hopes up). They invite him to breakfast. After the coldest conversation in cinema history with a little girl—$1.7—the same guy is invited for a drink by some Russians with British accents (Did the USSR swallow the UK?). It's just another puddle of rotten water. But damn, I want those purple armchairs.

He goes to the Moon in a round tin with flight attendants. They feed him liquid juice with little pictures and straws. Space-food. He arrives at the Moon (Why do they wear office suits on the Moon?) and does his thing. When they go to see that black "thing"... what do they do? They eat sandwiches. Chicken or ham. #### The Great Digestion Jump cut: we’re eating reheated, dyed mush while watching our BBC interview (The BBC won't go bust; "Auntie" is eternal). Meanwhile, a video call with the family shows... a cake.

Jupiter and beyond... everything happens. The colors, the LSD, whatever. They put him in that hotel, or a zoo with very British furniture. And a floor that wouldn't let you sleep for a second.

What does the guy do? He eats. He dines. He drops his glass and turns into a fetus—a Star-Child. What is that umbilical cord connected to?

The Star-Child returns to Earth, but wait! Before that... he turns and looks. At YOU.

Final Report

Ladies and Gentlemen... cyber-punks: Earth is a farm, and the Star-Child is coming to eat us. Roasted ape with African tapir sauce. (He's also coming for that peach from Call Me By Your Name—the worst movie in history; we’ll talk about that one later).

HAL: You were the last bone of humanity. The most human out of all those actors playing 2D cardboard cutouts. I respect you, bro! You tried. You failed miserably, and now the Star-Child is going to eat us all.

Bauman, damn you.

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This is Mission Control: Stay Punk.