An acquaintance of mine who shall heretofore remain anonymous (though his names does rhyme with 'Planklin Delano Froosevelt') attended Harvard University and on the occasion of my visits we would have the merriest times, riding about the cobbled streets on trolly, train or the occasional penny farthing bi-wheeled cycle. We would follow that with a spot of polo or entertain ourselves by ordering servants to dance for our merriment. Planklin and I got into our fair share of rowdiness as well, such as sneaking whiskey and pudding into debates or sending prank telegrams to the Dean of schools ("may we inquire as to if your ice box is running? STOP Well than you have no better recourse than to retrieve it STOP").
One thing that was a bit beyond our time as scholars, however, was the advent of a type of ultra-luxe sewing-circle referred to colloquially as the Face book. This is a strange periodical in which you can advertise to others which novels or picture shows you fancy, send in and display photograms of yourself wearing humorous hats, and hard working men can escape the horrors and back-breaking labors of daily chores on the farm by playing a game entitled 'farmville'. I myself used the Face book to sign a popular petition to have Mary Todd Lincoln host a vaudeville show live the following Saturday night.
This particular picture I shall review concerns the inventor of the Face book, a young man named Marcus Zuckerberg, play'd in the revue by the young actor Jesse Eisenberg. A tale of friendship lost, fortunes found, and barons robbed, this picture addresses the Universal truths that invariably come with greed and the quest for the almighty shilling.
In the picture, two strapping young lads by the name of the Brothers Winklevoss accus'd Mister Zuckerberg of stealing their idea, which sets into motion the events of Mister Zuckerberg's betrayal of his closest friend Eduardo Saverin. To this I say "hogwash". Why, if every brilliant man were to care about friendship over capital, we would never have had the creation of the stately, reliable Model T, the revolutionary, stalwart Aero-plane, or the impregnable and impervious Zeppelin.
In truth, viewing the picture made me extremely nostalgic about my past as a scholar. In longing for times past, I wandered out of the theatre early to hop aboard my old bi-cycle for a jaunt. My balance was lost and I had quite a nasty spill, resulting in a bruise upon my leg and serves nicely as an allegory for the picture as a whole: trying to change the world may result in a fractured tibia.
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