Sloth love Broadway
A couple months ago, rumors were in full effect concerning the Goonies sequel. It seems the project is now as dead as Chester Copperpie. But, ahem, Richard Donner is now pushing for Goonies: The Musical. Fuck it. Why not? I could see it being super fun. From Variety:
Rumors have been swirling for years about a “Goonies” sequel, but Richard Donner says his most recent attempt simply didn’t pan out. “We tried really hard, and Steven (Spielberg) said, ‘Let’s do it.’ We had a lot of young writers submit work, but it just didn’t seem to call for it,” he explains.
Lately, Donner has been chasing a different spinoff idea: “I’m in the process of trying to get it done as a musical on Broadway. Wouldn’t that be great?”
The director has already met with former Broadway entertainment attorney John F. Breglio, and Donner seems confident things are moving in the right direction. He’s even figured out where to break for intermission: right after the kids fall through the hole, with the second half unfolding underground.
Yes Richard, it would be great. Especially an over-the-top, extended Truffle Shuffle dance sequence with lots of chubby kids in Hawaiian shirts showing off their tires. Will Sloth sing? Would it sound like Young Frankenstein? God I hope so.
ohmars.wordpress.com 
This is the most devastating news this blog could have dug up. This movie is UNTOUCHABLE. Any perverse version of this cult classic will assuredly undermine the meaning it has held for children since 1985. The Goonies rescued my inner child from the depths of frivolous human despair many a time. The movie battled horrid childhood memories, though, burned into my memory, have had little or no influence on the working class hero I see in the mirror today. Being dragged to Disney on Ice shows were the worst. Such shows prided themselves on their capacity to render children catatonic with their trance like music, electro-shock waves transmitted through those dubious mouse ears (conduits to EVIL), and the lowering of body temperatures rendering opposition to the domination of that mouse and his minions damn near impossible. I’m convinced our parents just wanted us to experience what tripping on acid felt like when purchasing those tickets to Hell. The whole ride home I would beg my parents to let me fall asleep watching The Goonies, my one saving grace, the one thing that would suck me back into the REAL world. Yes, a world where you can solve almost any problem with gumption, faith in the impossible, and your friends. Fuck fish that sing and girls with stupid problems like evil step sisters . . . give me pirates, adolescent-awkwardness, crooks, experimental Asian-technology, kissing, treasure maps, retainers, inhalers, and retarded people, er, excuse me, I meant mentally challenged people, because we have to learn to get along with everyone God damn it. Move over Mickey, please let Mikey and the gang show you how living on the edge is really done. Forget getting shit-cocked to numb yourself to the world. Get yourself into the thick of it all, and then get out of it, coming out on top, the hero.
“Will Sloth sing? Would it sound like Young Frankenstein? God I hope so.” Ohmars, God is dead. And so will the Goonies be to me if this little musical takes place.
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