Mikaela and I have just seen "I, Robot", the latest sack of vile to emerge from "The Dream Factory".

The first 15 minutes are an exposé of product placement and displaying Will Smith's body, as he evolves from nude (actually involving still shots of him in the shower) to trying to look like Mos Def. If I got $100 every time I saw his Converse sneakers, an Audi placement or his JVC stereo, I wouldn't have to work for another year. By the way, as Bill Hicks once said:

Here's the deal, folks. You do a commercial - you're off the artistic roll call, forever. End of story. Okay? You're another whore at the captialist gang-bang and if you do a commercial, there's a price on your head. Everything you say is suspect and every word that comes out of your mouth is now like a turd falling into my drink.

Anyway, here comes a very quick list of requirements for those of you who are actually thinking of going to see this cinematic ordeal:

• Erase every single memory you have of Isaac Asimov.

• Would people who are as old as my generation (I'm 27 years old) dress like our parents, when we're appx. 70-80? I don't think so, but never mind, wipe any sense of logic from your mind when viewing this film.

• Try really, really hard to imagine Will Smith being funny.

• Forget "2001" completely.

Even the music in this film is dreadful.