"Armageddon" was a cringe-worthy movie for eggheads if ever there was one. From the very beginning, scriptwriters seem to have indulged in picturing steamy scenes they could write for Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler, rather than whether the statistics they peppered the plot with were even remotely accurate.
Is there an asteroid the size of Texas in our solar system? No. (The largest is quite a bit smaller – about 560 miles (900 kilometers) across compared to the "Armageddon" asteroid's 870/1,400.) Is an asteroid even likely to get smacked by a comet? (Nope. Them's super slim-pickings.) Could a comet knock this particular asteroid out of orbit? (Not a chance. Seriously.) If it could, would this asteroid impact the surface of the planet with the force of 10,000 nuclear bombs? No. (Interestingly, this number is actually underestimated. Way underestimated.) Would we somehow not notice an asteroid of this size until it was nearly upon us? No. (Pretty much everyone on the planet who knew where to look would be able to glance up at the sky and see it.)
But the science-smack-in-the-face doesn't end here. Moving on.