Sunday, November 25, 2012


This was a gift from a friend I've been saving up to read for a time when I really needed a good boost. I'm a really simple soul and sometimes you just need to read a book about killer bastardizations of My Little Ponies to make you smile, you know?


YES. This badass pony and his girlfriend have just slaughtered a dozen Carebears. These ponies are awesome. They will go on adventures and fight evil bears and prance in the moonlight under the starry sky. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME, LOTUS ROSE. 

What I Got:
Sometimes, a book tries just too hard to be bad. And then your mind flips over wholly and looks for shining literary wisdom and beautiful, harmonious metaphor in it. Let me regale you with what I believe Lotus Rose's true meaning was:

The beautiful temptress will lead you astray, betraying your heart and drawing you into danger she yearns for. Regardless of your genuine macho nobility, and the amount of your own childhood you will rip apart in your quest; (leaving behind a bloody, crying mess of nostalgia)- she will only draw you deeper into misery. Innocence is lost along the way as you fight to impress her. You will experience drugs, perversions, lies, and lose your very soul in a hopeless, naive floundering of machismo. In the end she and her issues are revealed as intense self-destruction, anorexia, and cold indifference to your love. She will cast you back from the land of shadows you have followed her deep into; her final redemption will be giving your empty shell life again, forgetting she existed. She will twist forever in her misery as you move on with your life. 

Shit was deep. I feel like Hemingway could have taken some notes here. 

Cover Execution:
Technically Dust doesn't get that tramp stamp for a while into the book, and never appears with Machoponi as he slays the don'tcarebears. And they have porcupine quills for some reason. Other than that, spot on. 

PS: Lotus Rose is a goth guy who is working hard to copywrite the corruptagram, the tattoo on Dust's hindquarters. I'm serious. 
PSS: Friendship is Magic.

Saturday, November 10, 2012


I had to take a cross-country flight recently, and I forgot my Nook. So I needed something to pass the 4.5 hours of boredom that was at least more exciting than crossword puzzles. Staring at me from the airport book store shelves were about 100 copies of this glossy-covered paperback. It seemed like a sign... clearly this was the time to find out what all this Fifty Shades of Nonsense was about. 


You know, well... I like this cover. It's minimal, I like the business serif font, and I have a penchant for ties. Also this is a decent attempt at a Windsor knot, but slightly disheveled. Oh I see what you're doing there. You shameless book. 

Also, I've heard all the Bingo Club grannies are in a twitter over this book's titillations  I expect a man with a tie to get saucy and have sex with some woman (who probably has poor self esteem and no sexual experience). The man will be exceedingly rich and handsome and well dressed and suave and introduce said woman (and Bingo Club grannies) to bondage involving ties. This is going to be way better than crosswords. 

What I got:
.... Let's make one thing clear. This book isn't a smut romance novel. This book is pretty much straight up porn. I gambled and got WAY more than I expected. Another thing: It's writing is GOD DAMN HORRIBLE. I mean... I was reeling from how amazingly awful it was. Or maybe it was a-swoon from the scandalous nature, I'm not sure. Either way, reeling. 

Plot summary: Anastasia Steele fumblingly meets Christian Grey. Exactly as expected he's some kind of super rich businessman with big buildings and lots of cars and all that stuff. He also has a dungeon in his basement and spends the whole book having sex with Anastasia and enticing her to engage in some kind of totally weird legal contract so he can spank her. I mean, among other things.

Ana is supposed to find some kind of awakening by listening to her "inner goddess". 

"My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves."
"My inner goddess fist pumps the air above her chaise lounge"
“My inner goddess looks like someone snatched her ice cream.”
"My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping its hands like a five year old"

Who is apparently an inner moron. 

She also articulates her surprise upon discovering this series of sexual epiphanies by saying "Holy Cow!" Which is just... I mean. I guess this somehow helps these Bingo Grannies relate. But I just kept giggling at it. 

“Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Holy cow! … He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length. Oh no … Will it? How?"

I'm also being very light on the lurid details here so you can just fill in the blanks as to how these things play out. I dare you to read it in public- which is apparently COMPLETELY OKAY socially, which I find the most fascinating part of this whole Fifty Shades phenomenon. 

Cover Execution:
Okay so it clearly goes out of its way to be ambiguous, yet suggestive. The tie does ah, come into play. So, halfsies here. 

Also, during the flight back I was finishing off reading the book while sitting next to a large, unwashed male who smelled rather offensive. We had the middle seat between us but he still managed to really permeate the area. Anyway, it became clear to me rather quickly that he was dreadfully uncomfortable with my reading material. It was like he was trying to melt into the side of the plane, pressing himself desperately against the window to escape my lurid eyebrow raises and snickers. He was trying to hide his whole head in his neckbeard, I swear to God.

I feel bad about this now but I totally played up my giggles and derisive snorts and "Oh My"s just to watch the poor guy try not to be horrified. It was somewhat empowering to terrify this young man simply with the power of FIFTY SHADES OF LADY PORN. 

Well, I mean... I was getting him back for not showering. Seriously, who gets on a plane smelling like a 3 day old con-LARPer? Not cool, bro. 

"Laters, Baby".