Dearly beloved, We gather here today to remember one dear to us all--or at least a few of us. We gather here today in memory of the brain child of a Mr. Paolini, a child who was tragically and brutally maimed on this dark winter's eve. While little pieces of plot and character were strewn about with nefarious glee, little Eragon, still whole, rests within her hardcover (or paperback) coffin awaiting the arrival of the kingdom of heaven--but we'll settle for Peter Jackson, if he's not too terribly busy. On a more serious note, that was the worst hack job on a good book that I have seen in a very long time. They not only cut out about two thirds of the book, they altered the plot and removed things that were essential to the story line. I've heard the failure of a book compared to a dead child or miscarriage, but this was truly "murther most heinous". I do not know Mr. Paolini thoughts on the movie--or if he is able to voice them--but it seems as if the price of fame may very well have been his first born. Like so many other great stories, Eragon may have to wait a while for a director of a greater caliber--Like "The Hulk" or many other failed works. As a person who one day hopes to be able to call himself a writer of sorts, it pains me to see something that terrible. On a side note, while reviewing what I wrote last night, I have noticed my eccentricity; however, in my deluded state of mind, I am of the same opinion still (all though I have not been persuaded against my will--sorry, I couldn't help myself) and I do still believe that there is a method to my madness, if you catch my meaning.