The silliness that is The Matrix movies is not in the violence, all the wired kung fuized theatrical flips and feats, the exploding buildings and the steel tentacles of the deadly computerized "squiddies," but in the whole notion that a small handful of people would choose a dank and homely reality, one that stinks, one that is built on the foundation of physical poverty and constant danger, over the beautiful representation of reality that is the illusion presented by enemies of mankind.
The reality is that people would choose the egg, the goop, the wires burrowing into the spine and brain, the force-fed images of walking and living and loving and doing, all the while the reality, the truth is buried in slimey goop, hunched in a small plexiglass egg, feeding a foul system, an alien overlord that enslaves mankind.
