As early '90s science fiction films go, there are few more terrifying than Jurassic Park. How else would we have learned not to trust science, dinosaurs, lawyers, Jeff Goldblum, any Attenborough, jeeps, fathers, embryos, Samuel L. Jackson, large plants, shaving cream, and history?

As a countdown to a now-non-denominational holiday named after a very-much denominational, immaculately conceived child of Our One Lord and Savior, the Wastrel embraces the Christmas spirit of complaining about the goods and services that you receive in exchange for money.

We can’t count on much these days. But we can rely on one thing: whenever there is a speech to be made, a vote to be won, a crowd to be wooed, a country to be saved, there is a man wearing a tiny flag lapel pin ready to get the job done – and he’s from the country represented by that flag.

Well, it's been a month since the NHL playoffs began, and the damn things are barely half over. Bradley Prouse brings you an update on his charity hockey pool, having moved on from chronicling charity NCAA basketball brackets to bigger and better things. Or to colder and more violent sports, at least.

Most disaster or war movies ease into madness. You know that lots of people are going to die, that it’s going to be noisy, and that you won’t have much time to catch your breath. So you’re treated to calm opening scenes as a courtesy. Not so with Red Dawn.