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Mon Dieu, ces films sont terrible! [Enjoy, pig-dog English-speaking viewers!]

French films are the only weapon the Federation has that continues to be effective against the Borg.

Why on Earth did I agree to show these French films on the main viewscreen? Unmake it so!

I was watching a French film the other day, and it finally dawned on my why French films are so (in?)famous for having…shall we say, adult content.

They’re boring.

And pretentious.

And just when you reach the point in the film where a sane viewer would say, “Good grief, this movie is boring! And pretentious! I am going to stop watching!” the first naked lady makes an appearance.

“Oh, hang on, this just got interesting,” you think to yourself if other people are in the room, or say aloud if you’re alone.

And if you’re all alone, sitting in a dark room while watching a French movie and talking to yourself, you’re a sick bastard. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Freak.

French film directors, realizing their propensity for using their movies to lecture you about topics ranging from existential nihilism to abstract pony-saddling techniques, and not being complete idiots, throw in some racy sexy bits right about the point where most intelligent film-goers (film-goers, because the French don’t make things as crass as movies) would leave the theater with a roll of the eye and a snort of disdain.

But a naked lady keeps us in our seats.

Often, just to be safe, these directors will throw in a second naked lady, and, on occasion, as a bone to female and homosexual film-goers, a third, naked, male participant.

Sadly, they almost always ruin what would be perfectly entertaining scenes by having the characters continue to talk.

I find this horribly distracting, especially if they’re talking about pony-saddling techniques while they go at it.

And being French films, muting the volume doesn’t help. Those damned, sanctimonious subtitles are still there, popping up at the bottom of the screen, their silent siren call irresistible to all but the most astigmatic of eyes.

So while there’s a lot of pink bobbing and bouncing on the top three-quarters of the screen, I find myself reading some arrogant dissertation on Man’s inhumanity to Man, and Holy Moly, is that kind of posture possible when non-gymnasts have sex?

So you stick around because the top three-quarters of the screen compels you to, even after the love/lust/orgy/what-the-hell-is-that-pony-doing-here scene has ended.

Because hey, there might be another one of those scenes soon.

There isn’t.

Not soon enough, anyway.

No, instead you have to watch the characters, who are nothing more than annoying, two-dimensional substitutes for metaphors, move around on the screen in such a dull manner that your eyes naturally drift down to read more pedantic crap about how small and insignificant individuals are in the universe. All of this surrounded by the cacophony that is known as the French language.

Give me Esperanto over French any day.

But these directors know their stuff. French film academies must have commissioned thousands of studies involving millions of people, to learn at just what point you need to stick another flagrantly naked people scene into a movie to prevent a mass audience exodus from the theater.

The French term for this type of scene is bébé scandaleusement nu de personnes oh ouais!

I just call it disgusting.

Very watchable disgusting.

Sadly, this hopscotching from one nucleus accumbens-loving scene to another has a terrible cost for the viewer. We think, with each well-framed gyration of bare skin, that we are one moment closer to an exciting filmatic climax, that the infuriatingly smug presentation of the central theme of the film is some form of crude foreplay that serves, in its inept, pleasure-killing manner, only to make us appreciate the naughty bits all that much more.

Much like, as my dad used to say, your lip feels so much better when you pull the needle out of it.

Turns out, that’s not true.

Not even remotely.

So just as your lip continues to hurt like hell after the needle extraction, these scenes are not all the more titillating because they are surrounded by the cinematic messaging equivalent of blunt force trauma. If they were, all French films would end with a bébé scandaleusement nu de personnes oh ouais!

But they don’t. The directors assume after the last sex scene that we are spent and limp in our chairs, unable to resist one final not-even-thinly-veiled homily about whatever idiotic point their movie is supposedly about.

Although watching a pony talk to me about different types of saddle bindings while both I and the pony are in a semi-conscious state is definitely a surreal experience.

Just not one I recommend.

So the directors take advantage of our near-somnambulistic state to hammer home their message. Usually via a drawn-out monologue voice-over while presenting us a car’s-eye-view of someone driving down a long and winding road, the destination unknown and unknowable, the driver of said car unknowing.

When the film gets to this point, I am left not knowing why I sat through the entire movie. I yearn for the ability to travel back in time, not to prevent myself from seeing the movie, but to kill myself before seeing the movie in order to create a paradox that destroys the entire universe, thus protecting alternate universes from this form of visual drivel.

It takes me a few days to get over this feeling and abandon my time-travel development efforts in the basement.

Which is probably in everyone’s self-interest.

I liken this French approach to ending films to a hard, swift kick in the man-globes right after a session of oh-so-fine-lovin’.

Like a French film, I go into it suspecting nothing so dire awaits me, and afterwards I always feel vaguely used, deeply unsatisfied, and in a tremendous amount of crotch pain.

Or as the French call it, douleur de fourche.

Des bâtards!

And now, a word from our sponsor: me! My books are available!
 

The Santa Claus Gang:

The Santa Claus Gang: A Marlowe and the Spacewoman short story

Marlowe and the Spacewoman:

Marlowe and the Spacewoman

Kleencut (FREE!):

So bad it won a Voidy for the next THREE consecutive years (would have been FOUR, but 2012 was a leap year)

 
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Posted by on 15 December 2012 in Angst, Conspiracies Out To Get Me, Story

 

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The Blog Hop of (Self-Promotional) Shame, or Chain Letter: The Next Generation

My friend and FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitive #4 (she’ll kill #3 to move up, no doubt) Kit Campbell tagged me to participate in something called a ‘blog hop’.

I’m not sure how you get a blog to hop; I expect it involves a trampoline, a laptop, and a high likelihood of damaging said laptop. Or perhaps dangerously overclocking your computer. Either way, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. On the other hand, I’m terrified of Kit.

To avoid Kit’s wrath, I must answer some questions about my latest work in progress, then chain letter five other bloggers (hopefully authors, or this whole exercise doesn’t make any sense) with the same task.

I may or may not be on blogging terms with five other authors, so I might end up breaking this chain and dooming all previous participants to bargain-bin obscurity.

So be it. I only hope Kit is merciful because I tried.

Ve vill find out if you are ze naughty or ze nice. Ve haff vays of making you talk!1) What is the working title of your book?

Crap. The first question would be a toughie.

I’m actually struggling with this question right now. The working title is the unworkably horrible Marlowe and the Spacewoman Versus the Santa Claus Gang. I know.

But hey, you can help a struggling artist out, and I can experiment with WordPress’ polling functionality for the first time.

2) Where did the idea for the book come from?

This is a short story set in the Marlowe and the Spacewoman universe. I originally wrote it years ago as a Christmas story that I sent out to friends and family. I recently decided to revisit (and re-write) the story and make it canon. This proved to be a lot of work, as this short was actually written before the Marlowe and the Spacewoman novel and contradicted the novel in many places.

3) What genre does your book fall under?

Science fiction, with a dash of mystery, a touch of humor, and a hint of the absurd. Also, half a cup of milk and a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine-y bits go down.

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I could see a young Sigourney Weaver or an old Elle Fanning (with her hair dyed black) playing Nina. But honestly, as long as the actress comes off as vaguely Greek, I don’t care.

Since Marlowe looks like Humphrey Bogart, Bogart would be the perfect casting choice for him, except that actor has been dead for decades. Someone willing to undergo a lot of plastic surgery, I suppose.

House, as always, would be voiced by Stephen Fry. Yes, I know, you hear “House” and “Stephen Fry” and you immediately think I mean “Hugh Laurie”. Well, you’re wrong.

Though Laurie could play Marlowe. Hmm.

5) What is the one two sentence synopsis of your book?

Can Marlowe and Nina stop the redistributionist Santa Claus Gang from stealing the entire stock of the Xmas season’s #1 toy, the Prussian Robot Death Squad Commando Now with Live-Action Grappling Hook!™, saving the poor conglomerate that manufactures it from financial ruin?

Let’s hope so, because remember, corporations are people too.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Self-published. Most of the agencies have restraining orders against me, making finding representation difficult.

7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I wrote it something like fifteen years ago, so honestly, I can’t remember. But knowing my approach and writing habits back then, I probably cranked that puppy out in one all-nighter.

Ah, to be young again.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I suppose comparing it to Marlowe and the Spacewoman wouldn’t be entirely cricket, would it.

Isidore Haiblum’s Tom Dunjer books come to mind, for those of you who enjoy obscure references.

Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide series.

The missus says the writing reminds her of Terry Pratchett. I can see that, and find it very flattering to boot!

9) Who or what inspired you to write this book?

When I was young and naïve, I started this tradition of writing Christmas stories and making them into mini books I sent out to friends and family in lieu of a card. This was the second or third such story, and I was hard pressed for an idea. I had recently written a short story called Semi-Sentient Soap Scum on the Prowl (which later became the novel Marlowe and the Spacewoman), and decided to write a sequel.

There might have been rum spiked with a suggestion of eggnog involved, but my memory’s a bit hazy.

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Everyone who does not read this book dies within a week of not reading it. Or will, once I release it. So, does the potential of saving your life pique your interest?

Also, if you hadn’t guessed, this story involves Prussian Robot Death Squad Commandos. With Live-Action Grappling Hooks!™ even. Who can resist that?

And now for the truly unpleasant business of dragging other innocent victims into this hopping menace: Regretfully, I condemn Lisa, Scott, and Tamela. I share all my other author blogging friends with Kit, and she already tagged them, leaving me short two. But she is evil, after all.

(If you’re an author, you have your own blog, I haven’t tagged you above, and you’d like to be tagged, let me know and I’d be happy to grow my authorial army to better rival Kit’s.)

And now, a word from our sponsor: me! My books are available!

Marlowe and the Spacewoman:

Marlowe and the Spacewoman

Kleencut (FREE!):

So bad it won a Voidy for the next THREE consecutive years (would have been FOUR, but 2012 was a leap year)

 

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Did you see last night’s season finale? No? Then here are some spoilers!

This one goes out to, as Dr. House would say, the morons out there who watch their favorite TV shows and then, before the phosphors on the screen have cooled, screen cap scenes containing major spoilers and post them online.

Knock if off, douche bags.

There are two types of people out there who might have the misfortune of stumbling across your online inanity:

Fans of the show and the vast majority of the rest of the world.

The fan base breaks down into a further two categories:

Those who have seen the show and don’t care about your stupid screen caps.

Those who haven’t seen it yet and would hunt you down and kill you for revealing those spoilers if they could do it without expending any time or effort to do so.

The rest of the world, which I suspect you will find the hardest to understand, just doesn’t give a flying fiddler’s frack about your glib commentary. At best, they view your half-assed efforts as a waste of pixels and bandwidth.

If you haven’t figured I it out yet, what I’m saying is this:

The only person who thinks these posts of yours are clever/entertaining is you.

This is the reason I loathe you, TV show screen cap blogger.

But, you protest, how could anyone not love my show, which is the bestest, most dramaticist, most awesomeist, Benedict-Cumberbatchy show evar, and therefore welcome with great eagerness any posts on the internet that are related to it, no matter how tangentially?

Let me illustrate.

Pretend my favoritest show evar is NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams.

The screen caps and commentary below are exactly how people view your screen caps about True Blood, or The Vampire Diaries, or Supernatural, or Sherlock, or whatever program floats your boat.

F*CK! HUGE STORM AHEAD!!!! ON NOES!!! LOOKOUT!!!! WATCHOUT!!!! YIKES! Colorful too.

Oh my GAWD! I totally didn’t see that tropical storm coming!!!!! Brian is so regal as he dispenses this unwelcome plot twist!

I AM SUCH A BADASS, BRIAN! I'M STANDING NEXT TO A BODY OF WATER IN NEW ORLEANS WHEN A STORM IS APPROACHING! YEEHAW, I'M A COWBOY!!!!!

Ooh, hunky correspondent in New Orleans! I’d like to see him with his shirt off!!!

Blue screen, or are they really there? I can't imagine the budget of a show that films at an actual convention. Then again, maybe they rented an auditorium and filled it with extras?

The set design on the interior of this convention shot – made my day! Clearly influenced by post-modernism and football stadiums. The set designers on this show are geniuses!!!

The ultimate unexpected plot twist

On noes! They killed off Neil Armstrong! I HATE Joss Whedon! He’s always doing that!

This is why Brian Williams is so awesome - he's such a sweetheart to the fans!

I tots did NOT see the gay love between Brian and John coming! Totally caught off guard! But isn’t it time our news programming had more gay-friendly plots in it? (Because let’s face it, Anderson Cooper is anything but friendly.)

Was that entertaining? Did you read this and suddenly feel an irresistible urge to rush to MSNBC and re-watch the news feed?

I didn’t think so.

And now, a word from our sponsor: me!
 
My books are available!

Marlowe and the Spacewoman:

Marlowe and the Spacewoman

Kleencut (FREE!):

So bad it won a Voidy for the next THREE consecutive years (would have been FOUR, but 2012 was a leap year)

 
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Posted by on 28 August 2012 in Conspiracies Out To Get Me, Life

 

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