n an unprecedented display of brazen honesty, during a recent press junket for Transformers: Dark of the Moon, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots referred to three-time director Michael Bay as "the universe’s most incompetent filmmaker" and co-star Shia LaBeouf as "the world destroyer of beloved 80’s icons".

"My strongest belief above all is that freedom is the right of all sentient beings," the 12-foot commander began, "but Mike should be thrown into a kangaroo court of Quinetessons, found guilty without a shred of proof, and dumped unceremoniously into a pit of Sharkticons."

When asked why he felt so strongly, Optimus’s eyes, normally a cool florescent blue suddenly changed to a sunflower yellow. "Have you seen Pearl Harbor? This is a man who earned his directing chops on Bad Boys. I’m beyond shocked Sean Connery didn’t go into early retirement after The Rock."

When asked to compare Bay with fellow director Uwe Boll, notorious for cinematic turns on little-known video game franchises such as Bloodrayne, Postal and Alone in the Dark, Prime had a bit more respect. "At least Boll was a prizefighter, and he’d kick anyone’s keester who dared criticize his work. Frankly, that’s one tough cookie I’d rather not speak out against. Mike just cowers behind his lawyers about criticism when he’s not clinging to the turned-out pockets of Stephen" (Spielberg, the film’s executive producer).

As for his costar LaBeouf, he seemed thrilled the young star had announced he wouldn’t be back for a fourth installment. "Having to listen to his incessant nasally voice screaming every single line nearly blew out my audio receptors. By the second film I realized he was actually causing some minor damage to occur in my memory banks. Fortunately I have the ability to turn them off and scanned his mouth to lip-read instead when it came to doing a line. This isn’t Othello we’re performing here after all—hell, it’s not even BioDome."

When asked to elaborate on his comments about Shia destroying a generation’s worth of entertainment icons, he had this to say: "Think about it. First it was Indiana Jones. The one you call ’Harrison Ford’ called him a ’fucking idiot’, which I assume is some sort of derogatory label in your language—either that or he’s quite promiscuous, and very bad at it. Then you have our films—enough said there—and then he even got into a sequel of Wall Street. As if anyone could believe he could take on Gordon Gecko! I’ll have to check my files, but was Mike behind that film too?"

Asked if there was anything he would change about the films, he did have a few ideas: "Maybe introducing a Decepticon that transforms into a bus that runs over Shia’s character Sam in the first five minutes. That’d be a start. Getting rid of Megan Fox was about the only thing we did right—she was fun to look at—and how many guys can say they had Fox inside of them?—in the end she was like a set of dub tires—sure, they make your rims look sweet, but they’re goddamn useless for everyday use."

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Some people call me… the "space cowboy." Some call me the "gangster of love." Some people call me "Maurice"—wahnt wah—because I speak of the pompatus of love.

People talk about me, baby—say I'm doing you wrong. "Doing you wrong"! Well, don't you worry, baby, don't worry. 'Cause I'm right here; right here, right here at home.

'Cause I'm a picker. I'm a grinner. I'm a lover—and I'm a sinner. I play my music in the sun. I'm a joker, I'm a smoker; I'm a midnight-toker. I get my lovin' on the run.

You're the cutest thing I ever did see.

I really love your peaches; wanna shake your tree.

Lovey-dovey. Lovey-dovey. Lovey-dovey all the time. Ooo-wee, baby, I sure show you a good time.

'Cause I'm a picker. I'm a grinner. I'm a lover—and I'm a sinner. I play my music in the sun. I'm a joker, I'm a smoker; I'm a midnight-toker. I sure don't want to hurt no one.

People keep talking about me baby: Say I'm doing you wrong. But don't you worry, don't worry, no don't worry, momma. 'Cause I'm right here at home.

Editor's Note: As you may have guessed, Rok Finger had an embarrassing incident with a stage magician over the weekend and has assumed the new identity of Steve Miller of the Steve Miller Band; hopefully temporarily. With luck, Rok's regular identity and column will be restored next time.

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In the world of show business, things go from boring to frenetic overnight. This also applies to my life as of recent. One minute I'm volunteering at soup kitchens just to get out of the house, then my phone is ringing with work and so on. Which is great, the soup kitchen thing wasn't what I thought anyway—you believe people volunteer to serve the soup? They tried to tell me they already had more than enough people to eat it all.

But the work, the work! It's true what the Fixx said, one thing leads to another. I get a call from Vic-O Smith-Smith, one of the convention geeks who kept trying to get me to read his script last year. I told him I would, then when he asked me what I thought of it, I told him I thought it had its moments—he totally fell for it. Anyway, Vic-O asked me if I'd be in his movie if he ever got the money to do it, and I said sure, thinking no one would give this chunk money. Well, I was right, but it turns out he got hit by a Brinks truck and sued for big-time bucks. Vic-O called last week, as I said, and said the part was mine if I wanted it.

I played it cool and told him I would do it, only on the condition he gave me money for the role. It paid off, 'cause he offered me even better than money—a percentage of the movie! Usually that spells disaster, just ask anybody who's ever financed a bomb movie for percentages, or internet investors. This one's a sure-fire hit, though, because it's a sci-fi movie. Sci-fi movies are like oil spouting up through your bathtub. Money city.

The gig is all set, though. I'll be playing Clemenstra Raygun, the star of the movie, and it ought to be kick-ass. It will take about two weeks of shooting and then a long post-production time while all the special effects are computer-generated. It's a low-budget movie, but Vic-O says he can CGI all the effects with a special movie-making program known as Photoshop. The movie is about… okay, I still haven't read the script or anything. I'm putting money down it will involve me in some sexy space outfit shooting a laser and riding around in a rocketship. Something like LSD but it costs less and helps move my career along in inches.

I didn't even tell you the best part yet! Vic-O, he's a good friend with another guy, and this guy (whose name I didn't bother to write down) is publishing a comic book. I know, nerd city, but check this out: It's a comic about a super-freak sexy heroine, and guess who they wanted to play her on the covers? Victoria Principal. But of course she wants ridiculous money and has a busy schedule doing make-up commercials or whatever. Her loss, my gain. I'm going to be Metallichick!

Not much involved as far as the covers go or anything, they basically have me stop by the "studio" in his mom's house ever couple months and take a couple of promotional photos and some shots for the cover. Then people see a real chick on the front of the book and want to buy the book, then get home and get pissed to see it's all drawings inside. Maybe they recognize me from TV or the Brady Bunch reunion special where I told everybody I was Cindy, who knows, but people buy the book and I get money to come back and do more. It keeps me busy, that's what's important. That and the money.

I didn't even mention the big stuff, that I'm off to a sci-fi convention next week. I was planning on going back to sign autographs at the Orgasma table anyway, but the guy whose name I can't remember also wants me to do some promotion for the Metallichick book. I might even help Vic-O promote the new movie. It's feast or famine, as the old saying goes, and I'm going to gorge myself while the gorging's good.

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