Archive for January, 2010

YAY AVATAR!!!!one!!!!

Let me make the point of this blog post absolutely clear:

Avatar is shit and I am going to have a rant about it.

You have time to stop reading. If you wish to continue, feel free to debate with me or whatever, or shut the fuck up. I shall be happy either way. I also would like to point out that I went into this film knowing nothing other than the fact it had blue people and film reviewers seem to like it a fair bit.

NOW. Let’s be clear on this: the plot of Avatar – henceforth to be referred to as SPoS, which stands for Steaming Pile of Shit – is Pocahontas dipped in facepaint. Not persuaded? How about the whole thing of the big bad guys wanting to mine valuable shit (like the stuff that this film is NOT made of) out from under the bare feet of the free-spirited hippy layabouts with stupid little braids and feathers and crap natives? How are we gonna do it? WITH FIRE.

You could watch Dances With Wolves through a blue sweet wrapper and get the same effect, I promise.

Yeah, OK, it’s pretty and whatever. But I don’t really care what shiny shit you throw at me, SPoS, no amount of sparkly jellyfish things can hide how abysmally thin your wanky plot is. Here’s the bit that infuriates me: the IPNA (look it up if you really seriously have no idea) suffered in the exact same way because of Manifest Destiny. Except they didn’t have flying bird monsters. Or if they did, no one thought to record this fact. But there was no great resurgence from them: they became a minority until they became zoo attractions. Then Stephenie Meyer got hold of one of them and had a bit of a fanwank over him, poor guy. SPoS cheapens the plight and suffering of such native groups and turns it into “IT’S OK GUYS, THESE PEOPLE WITH THEIR LUCKY CONNECTION TO THE CREATURES CAN WIN LIKE.”

OH yeah that too – that deus ex machina of “If I think how much I need help, THE RHINOS WILL FIGHT FOR ME FUCK YEAAAAAH.” That this sort of thing doesn’t happen until the Na’vi are totally desperate makes it both maudlin and way too fucking convenient.

I must thank James “No Imagination” Cameron for making me realise how overused and recycled and SAMEY fantasy elements are.

…Oh like not blinking when facing a Hippogriff?

…OH, like the wand choosing the wizard?

*Epic flying swoopy bit with bird monsters*
*Epic flying swoopy bit with Hippogriff*

Can we not think of ANYTHING new? I admit, that tentacle tail thing the Blue Man Group had going on was promising… until it was used for convenient things. Like controlling that big bird thing that tried to eat them but could be controlled by THE ONE. O FATE YOU ARE SO FICKLE LOLZ!

OH and the length. The length. Ouch.
I’d like to point out that I can sit through a four-hour film and not get bored – when it’s well-made, clever and endlessly entertaining. (See this gem) But 2+ hours of half-assed fantasy crap painted with glitter glue and chocolate sprinkles swiftly becomes tedious. No amount of fizz and sugar could make it better. I tried this self-medication. Repeatedly. My bladder paid but my eyes and my intelligence were paying still harder.

And the hilarious dialogue. Me speak English.

I don’t have anything against fans of the film. I DO have a thing against people who are now obsessing over it as if it’s the greatest piece of filmmaking ever. For future reference, those who I know will ask, I prefer stuff like Lucky McKee’s May. That’s got guts and smarts, so to speak. And it’s genuinely funny. But SPoS is too preachy and long for a kid’s film, and too big and dumb to be an adult movie. James Cameron, your ten years were wasted, please read some books and stop feeling so self-important.



Back here, back into a largely apathetic slump concerning this degree, which can go to hell if it wants to.

I’m supposed to do a Music essay by next week. It’s 2,500 words. I can’t be arsed. Yay for fail.

Um… usual Facebook addiction as always, meaning five hours of refreshing status updates and whatever, and no work or reading gets done.

Tried this Twiet thing (writing everything you eat on Twitter to shame yourself into eating less). I liked the masochistic idea of people I’ve never met asking me what the fuck I think I’m doing eating Monster Munch at 3am, don’t I want to be society’s idea of beauty, blah blah blah. Social experiment, or something. I think it’s left over from too much Secretary. No I’m not giving you the link, it’s stuff like, “Had a sandwich. Thick white bread should prob. be substituted for brown. Hm.”

ANYWAY the women who follow me are actually earnestly dieting and desperately trying to lose weight.



If that’s not incentive enough to stay childless I don’t know what is. (40lbs? That would take me up to 13 1/2st. WHAT.)

But it’s not enough for these cuddly mummies to Tweet/Twat how many flakes of Special K they had this morning, oh no. Every Tweet/Twat that’s not about food is about their kid(s). Every. One. Some of them even blog about their kids, 24/7. They’ve lost their identity and become mirrors to reflect their precious dribbling kids’ every moment. And they’re always so happy. Less than five hours’ sleep and they’re CONSTANTLY CHEERFUL. I’d be killing fluffy animals with a plastic fork by that point.

BUT IT GETS BETTER (worse). I, out of sick curiosity, followed two links. The first turned up a blog about a guy who’s just become a sucker dad. One of his closing sentences says that he wants to cuddle his new bundle of genetics and fat and drool and “watch his Mommy sleep.”

Have you shuddered at the weirdness of that sentiment yet? I wouldn’t even let David Tennant watch me sleep if I knew he was doing it. Go away, you fucking creepy penistrolley.

If you think I’m overreacting, fair enough. I tend to do that. But the second link was worse. The second link led to a Twitter on which a mother was Tweeting about how her baby son was slowly dying. Blow by blow.

I’m not even fucking kidding. I wish I was. I almost cried reading this woman’s shit.

From when he was hospitalised to when his conditioned worsened to when he swelled up due to some dangerous system failure to “He’s dying,” this bitch shared with the world how her baby was suffering for days on end before finally dying. Maybe even worse, she found time to blog about it too. And she had the – I don’t even know what it is – to say, “God knows what he’s doing. God is good.”

If someone filmed a puppy being kicked to death over the course of an hour and stuck it on YouTube they’d be arrested. How is it right for someone to spend their son’s last days INFORMING STRANGERS ABOUT EVERY MEDICAL DEVELOPMENT OVER THE FUCKING INTERNET?! Maybe it’s a coping mechanism, or something. But what the fuck happened to common decency?

I dunno, you might think it’s a good thing that she shared details with the world. Maybe it’ll make people appreciate things more, or something. Go and read it: Look out for the super-special moments when she pimps out her blog. Oh, and be sure to smile whenever she puts a smiley face! ‘Cause there’s light at the end of the tunnel! 😀 😀 😀

Fucking people.

EDIT: For anyone who’s still curious after that, the Twiet is fairly pointless: I haven’t eaten Monster Munch at 3am since last summer.