, everyone. I’m Jeremy, and I’m officially a part of CHUD now. Let’s shake hands and come out biting.

Ahem. So there’s this lingering misconception popular with males of a certain age group and a certain sexual timidity that Transformers: The Movie (aka The Transformers: The Movie) is an animated classic on par with Fantasia, Akira and all the non-human parts of Racing Stripes. Representative of this group is Mr. Mauro Cosentino of Argentina, who writes rapturously in his IMDb appraisal of the DEG-financed toy commercial, "You need to see Transformers the movie, this classic is a epic tale of death, the eternal battle of good and evil, an many things more tell in a bombastic way."

Substitute "Transformers the movie" with "Season Five of Sanford and Son", and I’m with you in a big way, Mauro. Unfortunately, the entirety of Redd Foxx’s oeuvre was banned in Argentina thirty years ago due to an ignorant belief that he was the reincarnation of the despised caudillo Juan Manuel de Rosas, thus forcing otherwise noble and right-thinking Argentineans to shun the profane comedian in favor of shoddily animated product. And this is a shame. As for all non-Argentineans, they have no such excuse, which is why the enduring cult popularity of The Transformers: The Pictures are Moving! continues to baffle.

And it is a mystery that will apparently be the U.K. based Metrodome Distribution’s brief financial gain, as they’re all set to re-release the film for a two-week run in a single venue on London’s West End. This limited engagement is doubling as an advertisement not only for the toys and the forthcoming Michael Bay spectacular (which actually has a chance to be good now that they’ve cast an actor who doesn’t sound like a million other cartoon villains to voice Megatron), but also for a double-DVD "Ultimate Edition" of the animated pile. I’d be disgusted if I weren’t utterly amused by the thought of so many uncultured louts forking over $20-plus to own a movie even twelve-year-olds knew at the time of its initial theatrical release was worse than deep-throating grandpa on his death bed.

But if you’re into blowing your money, and, for that matter, your soon-to-expire grandfather, why not hop a plane to London and cement those bad-taste bona-fides!