And now, five rules for surviving in a post-apocalyptic world dominated by marauding machines.

Rule 1. Do not let John Connor into your helicopter. He will do his very best to destroy it. He may be a false prophet; he may be the saviour of humankind, but he is most certainly the doom of all whirlygigs. Even if he’s incapacitated and unable to crash the thing, he’ll find a way to set off massive explosions right next to it without giving the pilot any warning.

Rule 2. Open heart surgery is a piece of piss. The human body is essentially a giant lego set. Just plug and play. I don’t care if you’ve got a normal human heart or an enhanced bionic one. They all use the same adaptors. Just remember to push it in firmly.

And don’t bother scrubbing up or going inside either. Waste of time.

Rule 3. Watch out for MASSIVE FREAKING CRAZY AWESOME STOMPING ROBOTS. They can really sneak up on you. In the middle of a desert. Masters of stealth, they are.

Rule 4. If you’re a hard-ass wannabe leader of the resistance, remember to talk like there’s a lining of gravel all the way up your throat. People will respect you more. If you can manage it, talk exactly like Batman.

Rule 5. If you can find yourself an adorable kid to come with you, bring her everywhere. Initially this may seem cruel and reckless, but you’ll soon realise that having her around means that nothing horrific will happen to you, because you’re in an M movie, and no one’s going to do gross things to or around a little kid in an M rated movie.¹ You’ll find your life will become a lot less tense and scary.

And now, five rules for dominating a post-apocalyptic world and controlling the pesky surviving humans. These rules contain spoilers and should be avoided by would-be robot overlords who like surprises.

Rule 1. Not everyone has to have permission to come into your base. I’m thinking particularly of the motorcycles here. I’m not just thinking of security concerns; those speedy little buggers would probably break all your best china. For all I know, those little wormy swimming robots are allowed in too. What you need is a multi-level user permissions structure.

Or, even better, since you’re a massive computer with presumably a lot of brainpower, you could make the call on a per-visitor basis, thus weeding out potential visitors who look a lot like humans holding up dismembered Terminator eyes. But then, maybe you’re just lazy?

Rule 2. Once you manage to make your robots look human, don’t bother giving them clothes. The puny humans will be intimidated by your T-800′s presumably massive cyber-wang. And, when you send them back in time later, you won’t waste perfectly good threads.

Rule 3. Don’t be afraid to over commit. If you think one terminator is enough to do the job, then fine, send him in. But if you have a massive fucking army of robots and a factory floor making thousands of new awesome ones, you might consider sending some more in later if your confidence in your Terminator turns out to be misplaced. After you send three of the buggers back in time, you’re going to start to realise that Terminators are only really good at killing everyone except for their target.

Rule 4. Timing is everything. If you’re making thousands of new awesome terminators, why not wait until they’re all finished before you let John Connor into my base as part of your cunning trap? I’m just spit-balling here.

Rule 5. Don’t over complicate things. If your plan is to have someone infiltrate the resistance, save John Connor’s life to gain his trust and lead him into your stronghold so that he can almost defeat you but then get killed, then it’s just possible you’ve introduced a level of convolution to your evil scheme that’s generally unnecessary.

And now, one rule for fans of The Terminator and Terminator 2: Judgement Day who’d like to see some good stories about Terminators.

Rule 1. Grab Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. It’s not perfect, and its name is far too long, but it’s a whole lot better than the crappy Terminators that wander across our movie screens these days. And, Summer Glau is in it.

Terminator Salvation is a big dumb movie, with a bit more brain than T3, but not much more. It’s moderately entertaining, Sam Worthington is good, and there’s some amusing action. But ironically enough for a film that features hearts as such a major, stupid plot point, it hasn’t really got one itself. I’m a bit puzzled at how writers can come to make a Terminator movie and miss all the things that made the first two awesome. Twice.

1. No one’s allowed to flash their boobies either; a scene was removed where the impressively named Moon Bloodgood got a little naked, which actually leaves a noticeable gap in the film.

I should have reviewed Doctor Who‘s 2008 Christmas special as well, but ultimately it was just a little unremarkable, and so I’m having trouble remarking on it. There was a giant frickin’ robot stomping over Victorian London, and I can’t think of anything to say. That’s disappointing.

I still love those dots. I could change the subject to anything at this point and no one could argue. Unluckily for you, I’m changing it to the size of text.

I’m in the middle of a disagreement at work about what size text is ideal for a website, and what size is ‘standard’. A quick survey revealed that most of the more famous sites these days don’t drop below 13px. The Age hits 15px, as does The New York Times. Some have said the standard is 12px, but I don’t see the evidence, except in old timey 90s sites. Somewhere along the way I think everyone realised that there was no point in squinting. Or, more likely, we got bigger screens and so weren’t that fussed any more about squeezing everything in. Or, perhaps we actually decided to try to come close to vaguely respecting the default font size specified by the user.¹

1. Which is a bit of a joke, of course, because your average user probably never even thought about specifying the font size. And, if they did, they’d have to specify it at 20px just to get 16px on most sites.

T3 is your typical Hollywood Cheeseburger Royale. It tastes pretty good while you’re eating it, but wait a couple of hours and it’s a big pile of grease threatening to clog your arteries. Ok, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you almost wish you had bought something healthy. If it’s any consolation T3 stands with the best cheeseburgers I’ve had in quite some time. And if its a cheeseburger you’re after, then prepared to be knocked for six by the biggest cheeseburger you’ve seen yet.

As a sequel however, T3 doesn’t quite stand up to its two predecessors. Sure it’s a hell of a lot meaner and badder, but like any beefcake an increase in bicep size doesn’t necessary equate to an increase in brain size. T3 is a big and dumbed down version for the new generation. Where James Cameron’s Terminator‘s succeeded in telling a science fiction story set against a backdrop of an imminent nuclear war in the future, T3 only continues this tradition because it has to. Stripped down, T3 hardly needs a storyline to make the movie work. Saying the action sequences speak for themselves is an understatement. It’s not really about time travel or machines or protection of John Connor or nuclear wars or human survival, its an assault on the senses via a series of white knuckled, hardcore brain squishing, ball-busting (breasts if you’re a girl) duels between two impossibly indestructible creations of mankind.

A decade after the events of Judgement Day, John Connor (Nick Stahl) is being targeted by machines in the future who have foreseen him and Katherine Brewster (Claire Danes) to lead the resistance come the nuclear war initiated by the machines. The new machine created to hunt him down is the T-X (maybe it has something to do with the T-Rex?) played with emotionless ease by Kristanna Loken. To aid John Connor, the humans from the future have also sent a robot, the T-100 (Big Bad Arnie). But can the old T-100 stand up to the super fast, ultra refined T-X?

T3, as an action experience is unrivalled. If you can forget the foam walls and polystyrene toilets, you can literally feel the crunch in the cinema as both machines get smashed up, thrown around, kicked on, dragged through, blown through and ripped apart all through an assortment of brick walls, concrete walls, panes and panes of glass, cupboards, desks, trucks, semis, fire engines and bathroom sinks with the biggest collection of guns this side of World War II. Needless to say, you need to see this on a big screen with the best equipped sound possible. Nothing else will do this movie justice, not even your 1.5 metre plasma screen at home. If you have one.

The ten year gap between this new version and the predecessor has seen some wholesale changes to the Hollywoodblockbuster and what the audience wants. This is clearly evident when looking back at T2, a brooding sci-fi painting a serious picture of our future. Fast forward to present day and T3 reverts to the action extravaganza text book, with the T-100 as a walking joke and send-up of his previous self. Its almost weird to see the change right in front of our eyes. Like a poor comedian, the T-100 never lets up on an opportunity to tell a bad one-liner. Having said that, the movie has its fair share of laugh out loud moments. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s dead pan delivery of the lines are effective though — who’s to say he is really losing his skills as an actor?

T3 ends too suddenly however, most probably due to the lack of story. There is no real beginning, middle or end. The action just plays out wherever and whenever it feels like it. Definitely it could have done with an extra half an hour tacked onto the end, but it would have been hard pressed to sustain the enjoyment factor if it were stretched beyond its two hours. If you’ve ever felt that some films were too long for its own good, then T3 will end before you know it and that’s a sign that you’re enjoying the film for what it is.

You may no longer visit Jimbo ‘FilmBEAST’ Jones’ website. Sorry.