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Gaffbusters

I know that title is terrible, spurr of the moment I assure. Toying with “Nope-busters” now. Nah it’s too late the moment has passed. Also stole that image from Milo, I hope he doesn’t sue.
Ok, so that happened. I remember looking back and when I heard about this movie, I was sure it was a joke and I think in any other political climate it would have been laughed away. Some exec would have looked at it and thrown it on top of a potential spacejam remake with Ronda Rousey replacing Michael Jordan.
But no, because this whole girl power narrative is so strained today, some absolute moron thought this was the perfect time to delude themselves into thinking they could be funnier than the original cast. And before you jump on me I’m not trying to say women aren’t funny. I’m saying these particular women aren’t funny and they’re not even close to the original cast, who are funny without even trying. And to be perfectly honest if you have to keep telling people you’re funny like the people surrounding this movie are like to do, you’re probably not funny, evoking that Thatcher quote you may remember on being a lady and just telling yourself you are one. The main criticism of this movies comedy I’ve heard is that it tries too hard.ghostbusters-slimed-640x480.jpg
Oh yeah did I mention I haven’t seen it, so this isn’t technically a review. It’s moreover a review of the reviews and I just wanted to clarify I was wrong about this movie.
Originally when I saw that this was actually a thing. I thought it was devilishly clever. Pissing off the old fans, building up press attention and gaining new viewers and revitalising the fanbase. Sort of like dusting off the cobwebs of the old fans and trying to appeal to a new generation and more importantly making shitloads of money on #datmerch.
But it seems like I was wrong. After it had the most disliked trailer on youtube in history. I mean seriously, even the shittiest movies usually have more likes than dislikes and this ratio was insane. People had to be making new accounts to downvote it. And then the whole bullshit over sony deleting comments and keeping misogynist and racist comments to try and shift the blame to “evil” sexists and racists and block out regular criticism.
The trailer was terrible, the new theme song was pretty bad. I didn’t think it was horrible but you couldn’t find anyone more relevent than fallout boy and and missy elliot. Weren’t they popular like in the 90’s?
The reviews I’ve seen have been really bad but due to youtube algoriths that’s probably because it fits into what I wanted to see. Their ratings on sites like rotten tomatoes are pretty average, a fresh rating of like 65% if I’m remembering correctly.  Imdb has it listed as like a 6.5. Seems like a resound ‘meh’. A lot of people saying it started strong and it wasn’t that bad or it wasn’t bad enough to be good and it was just painfully average. I don’t know, I haven’t seen it. I’m sure I would laugh at some of it and truthfully my childhood has been made unrapeable already after the reeming it got from the Robocop remake so come at me bro.Cm80AMbVIAAN0Ij.jpg
I mean how do you make a movie about a cyborg cop boring? He literally does nothing for the first hour of the movie and the villain is just filed away until he needed to die. In the original, he’s literally shooting people’s dicks off in under fifteen minutes. I’m not even exaggerating (possibly exaggerating) I timed it. And the bad guy was the dad from that seventies show and he was fucking awesome!
Back to ghostbusters and the box office is pretty reflective of the previous reviews, it’s average coming out second behind secret life of pets. Projected at about 46 mil in the first weekend. Which isn’t a flop but without the chinese market because of their laws of depicting realistic ghosts (or something) it can’t be shown there. So there might be a signifficant drop over the coming weeks, with them taking a hit internationally.
But can it make back the 244 mil budgeted and the supposed 100 mil marketing budget and turn a profit. Going by the toy sales it looks unlikely.dn42LDR.png
Reports of empty theatres,  merchandise in clearance isles before the movie even debuted. It’s not looking good, so who you gonna call? It looks like maybe the irs.
As I said, I haven’t seen it so I don’t know if it sucks but it probably sucks, no it definitely sucks, but it looks like nefarious shit is going on behind the scenes. The long arm of sony wasn’t above painting all their detractors as hateful racists and misogynists all the hundreds of millions of them. Who’s to say the string of sycophantic reviews aren’t bought and paid for? Sony really has too much to lose on this franchise, with an already plotted expanded universe stretching into who knows how many abhorrent sequels?
But who gives a shit? Maybe this is the start of a cultural revolution that will finally push back against this cash grab remake culure and demand originality and risk taking, but then what would I bitch about in between chapters of my book haha?

Ah it’s too hot to write blogs to today.

Sianora suckahs!

0

Green Sunday Chapter 17 ‘Fatal Hesitation’ (Raw)

Ah dayjob how you get in the way of the things I truly love. Like online gaming… oh yeah and writing and blogging and junk haha.

Ok too tired and out of fucks to give a full update, I’ve mainly been doing innane shit to make paper while I write in my mind in the shower and read on public transport. Other than that I’m proofreading the last chapter of GS while listening to Filthy Frank music. And the editing is coming along, I should have that all out maybe as soon as the end of the year then I’ll probably put it on amazon or something if I can’t find an agent by then to take it on.

As usual you can find the full chapter on inkitt fresh and raw and uncut and all that good stuff.

Fatal Hesitation

“WAIT!”

Sunday, half conscious, her face pressed against a concrete pillow as a giant boot rested it’s weight against her. Applying more pressure a pound at a time and stopping at this rude intervention.

The giant foot came off of Sunday’s pretty face and she lolled lifelessly into the dry gutter. Jeffrey turned theatrically to focus on this voice. Coming to him over the sounds of small fires burbling against a slight breeze, an idyllic scene.

TJ stood, shoulders knotted around his ears. His hands behind his back in the entrance of the multi-plex.

“I got your doll or whatever!”

“Lamby? Gimme!” The hulking sub-human lurched towards TJ, his knuckles dragging along the smooth tarmac. Looming over TJ, his warm breath swirling all around him.

“Err, fetch?” TJ squirmed and then tossed the small plushie into the middle of the street.

“LAMBY!” Jeffrey leaped in the direction of the doll like a giant horny dog.

TJ’s panorama cleared of this giant monstrosity. He had the room and the presence of mind to run to Sunday’s side, like the good white knight he dreamed of parodying. He tripped over his feet and stumbled to a crawl beside her lifeless body.

“Sunday?” He said as he craned his chubby body over her, her portly romeo, maybe a little too late.

“LAAMMMBBBBYYY!” Jeffrey sifted through the debris. He tossed cars and bikes like tissue dispensers. Tossing up concrete chunks the size of dirty Brooklyn pigeons. Until his frantic eyes focused on something fluffy and white. “Lamby! I finally found you. The monsters, they took you away from me.” Jeffrey folded into an almost curtsy as graceful as possible. He pincered it with a giant finger and thumb not unlike the claw grabber machine it just came from.

He picked it up. Childlike glee projected on the grotesque potmarked mountain range that was his face. He floated it in front of his sloped brow turning it gracefully in his monstrous hands. Seeing it in it’s entirety sent a wave of clumsy emotions across the mottled canvas that was his face. Confusion and sadness, taking the express train to rage and desperation. The cogs began to turn with great purpose. As he realised what he was holding in his fingers and thumb was actually a plush snowman. The orange carrot nose and bead smile, a mocking endictment of a viscious ruse.

“This not lamby! Where lamby? WHERE LAMBY?”

~

“Ooh the fack are you?” The pilot said with no hint of incredulity that he was indeed being fucked. His face scrunching up looking like a map of the London underground.

“I’m your new co-pilot.” Carpenter said as he grinned and prodded the pilot in his soft side with the barrel of the assault rifle. “And mind your language, there are children present”.

“What the fack are you talking about mate? I don’t see any kids. This is all in your ‘ead mate, you want to mind yourself, you’re out of your depth ‘ere son. My guvna’ will ave your balls as a wedding present for ‘is missus”

“Start the engine”

“You’re asking for it son.” The pilot said as he started to spin the blades with a beligerance of a teen going to be late to her own sweet sixteen.

“Phweeeep!” An obnoxious whistling cut above the background hum of the engine and the quickening blades overhead.

“See you’re in for it now.” The pilot said as he turned the engine back of with an anti-climatic sigh from both him and the engine.

Carpenter looked over the control panel, peaking out the domed front window. A man in the same tactical gear as him stood statuesque in front of the helicopter. Laura by his side. An uncomfortable smile and a raised brow on her face as the figure raised a shiney pistol to the little girls head. “Drop the gun and step out of the helicopter.” The statue said grinning, reluctantly wearing the mask of the dutiful villain.

Carpenter tossed the rifle out of the helicopter door, landing soft in a bush. He de-choppered one angsty step at a time.

The statue moved around the side of the chopper to meet him. He was just under six foot, average height. He wasn’t wearing a gas mask, just a smirk of indifferent malice.

“My name’s Malcolm, I’m a fan” The man said as he dropped the little girl by his side to raise a hand for shaking. The shiney pistol was a lot larger close up, a chrome desert eagle, very ostinatious. “Go play over there now, there’s a good girl” He said as he shooed Laura with the gun.

Carpenter looked at his hand and looked back at Malcolm.

“It was smart to use the kid, not very chivalrous, but effective. Might be a little played out now” He lowered his hand and raised the gun at hip height. “We’re just going to wait here until the end and then a team can pick you up for nap time, easy.” He smiled like a dentist and tongued his front teeth. “The girl can come too, she’ll be fine, what with her big mean protector, wont she?”

Carpenter grimaced at this guarded insult. The tactical gear also came with a lovely usmc knife which Carpenter was yet to use. But there it was still hanging vertically on the front of his tactical gear. He reached for it slowly, eyes locked with Malcolm.

“Ah now that’s not very smart is it?” Malcolm hardened his face and rattled the gun around like it was getting too heavy for him. “Leave that alone”.

Carpenter eyes didn’t move. His hand possessed, unsheathed the blued knife from it’s molded kydex sheathe.

“Be a good lad an put that down eh.” Malcolm stretched his arm out, the heavy gun jossling in his grip. “We have a large investment in you, don’t make me shoot”.

Carpenter’s arm dropped to his side holding the swathy knife. His feet fluttered dreamily and he floated forward carried by an ill wind.

“I SAID STOP! NOW!” Malcolm squeezed the gun hard and it shook visibly in his grip “I WILL SHOOT YOU!”

Carpenter couldn’t hear him over the sound of his heart beat marching closer to his ears. Beating like the wind against an ancient castle wall. The blade cast no light and no shadow. It whispered promises to him of perfect cuts and no drag, slices of neat flesh falling into place. Enchanting dancing rivulets of blood pirouetting on its head as it hummed a death rattle in D. Torrents of blood beat inside his ears, he could almost hear the music. It was something like how he imagined Wagner. Ride of the Valkyries with a steady staccato drum beating faster and faster until you know it had to stop.

“STOOOPPPP!”

CLICK CLICK!

Malcolm caught Carpenter’s wrist with rattlesnake speed and grip. All the blood drained from his arm as he squeezed and gave him a quick love tap to the temple with the barrel of the eagle. A seering white light and a ringing noise in his ears as Carpenter went down onto the grass, soft and limp.

Malcolm turned to face the Laura as if his hips were that of an action figure with kung fu one hundred and eighty degree turns. She stood with the little gun in her hand clicking furiously trying to find the unspent cylinder.

CLICK CLICK CLICK!

The gun jumped out of her hand with the last clicking, giving off a soft squeaky pop and a brief flash and sizzle.

Malcolm crouched and picked the little gun off the ground.

“I must have missed this.” He tried to open the cyclinder but it was fused shut. He threw it in the dirt and stood back up putting his hands on his knees with an unhealthy clicking sound. “Looks like a misfire, you’re lucky it didn’t take those pretty hands clean off. Looks like both of our lucky days eh?”

“Is the badman dead?”

“No, he’s just sleeping, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll take you somewhere safe, the game is almost ov-.”

Malcolm’s breath was caught by a pair dirty hands wrapped around his throat. Dirt under the nails digging into his protuberant adam’s apple.

A wirey grip, thin hands tightening around his throat. An intense urge to kill coiled around his throat and gave zero ground to a hungry lung or a thirsty vein. Malcolm fell to his knees blue lipped, his face turning a shade of mauve. Spittle on his lips sputtering out. The last cubic milliteres of oxygen expelled from his lungs.

His vision went white and spotty. He couldn’t feel his lower extremities but he remembered he had a gun, a big heavy one. He sent a signal to his arms if they were still listening. His hand hovered next to him, dragging the heavy gun to his side. His grip locked onto the handle like an action figure with kung fu grip.

His arm floated up as if carried by a rising tide of water in an airtight phone booth. Carpenter couldn’t hear or see a thing, blood in his eyes. The israeli kiss on the side of his head the desert eagle gave him opened a theatrical wound. It bled hysterically like a wwe wrestler doing an impression of a tampon.

Malcolm lifting the gun up to his head height. Hovering where he imagined the gnarled head of Carpenter sat aloft. His arm jossling like a marionette puppetted by a drunk with low blood sugar. Struggling to keep the gun from plummeting into the ground as it so desperately wanted to do. Drawn magnetically to the earth. It swayed back and forth like a heavy pendulus artificial growth on the end of Malcolm’s arm.

Carpenter’s hand’s just seemed to get tighter and thinner, a wire man come to life to choke the life out of the world. His hands didn’t exhale a millimetre. A bottomless well of loathing self and otherwise driving his muscles like the hands of a clock. Unfeeling cogs clicking into place, murder o’clock.

Malcolm’s index finger tickled the heavy trigger. The shaking of his numb digit squeezing it pound for pound until…

BANG!

~

 

0

Green Sunday Chapter 6 ‘Smooth Sailing’ (Edited)

Another day another edited chapter, it’s almost over people, almost over and almost I mean never and by ‘over’ I mean bitches. That doesn’t make sense.

Ok well day job grinding and shitty and deadend as it is has given me the desired resources of my condensed wasted time to allow me to have more of this silly ass zombie novel I’m not entirely sure why I wrote edited haha. Of which will be coming soon.
I’ve only got one chapter left to proofread and then it’s all downhill from there.

In other news I’m reading some cool noir shit, some grade Richard Stark shit and it’s starting to show in some of the recent stuff I’ve done. I’ve actually made a start on one of those novellas I was toying with to keep me busy until nanowrimo when I unleash the beast of my next hurried giant word salad hah.
It’s turning out really nicely, I mean I actually gave enough of a fuck to open up google maps and plot routes for the story, research locations and plants and other such real life shit. I virtually walked the route of this story I’m doing and I think it’s turning out really nice, my style is evolving and it’s a lot of fun. It still has that evocative bullshit I like but it’s framed by this anal attention to detail which really nails the tension down.
Anyway the first chapter of that should be ready soon enough so you can ignore it at your leisure haha.

As per usual you can check out the full chapter on inkitt.

Chapter 6 ‘Smooth Sailing’

Peace out.

~

Roy held the camera low, trying to be discreet. It created a shaky low shot of TJ’s front door. A doorbell ringing sound; a cool morning mist starting to creep up on them.

“Who’s there?” TJ’s mom said from an upstairs window. The camera panned to the window as she leaned out in her yoga gear.

“Oh hey, Mrs Kincaid, a lovely morning, am I right?” Zed said with a tinny laugh, like he was selling Jehovah.

“Oh you’re those nice neighbour boys. TJ’s not home right now; he’s out getting milk; he can’t come out to play.”

“Err, yeah, you see… TJ kinda said we could come and borrow some of his stuff for our show, for the Internet”. Roy stumbled over his words, his frantic nerves stripping all charm from his voice.

“Oh well, he didn’t say anything to me about it. But I suppose, since you only live next door, and it’s for the Internet, you said?” TJ’s mom ditsily mused on what that might mean as she leant out the window.

“Err, yeah,” Roy said, a tired indifference climbing into his voice as he realised he’d been up all night. Was he holding up the camera or was it holding him up?

“The door’s open; his room is at the top of the stairs. How’s your mother doing, Teddy? You boys want some green tea and rice cakes?”

“Err, no, we’re good, thanks; she’s fine,” Zed said, surprised at how easy that was.

A brief cut and it was a shot of TJ’s stairs as they climbed up towards his room. All TJ could see was a POV shot of the back of Zed’s legs as he went up, followed by Roy.

Zed stopped on the stairs and turned to Roy with an odd smile on his face, the camera uncomfortably close.

“Dude, why’d you stop?” Roy said, behind the camera.

“How much you wanna bet the fat fuck’s a brony?” Zed sniggered childishly, forgetting the blood under his fingernails.

Another brief cut and whoever held the camera was elbow deep in TJ’s drawers. “Where the fuck is it?”.

“Dude, I found it.” The camera panned impatiently to Zed who stood in front of the closet, smirking.

“Friendship is fucking magic.” Zed chortled as he spoke. Parting the clothes in the closet, Zed revealed a secret ‘My Little Pony’ poster on the back of the wardrobe. “I fucking knew it.”

“Yeah, that’s great; the dude’s a fucking faggot who wants to fuck a horse. Can we get back to finding the weapons now, so, you know, we can fucking live through the night?” Roy snapped, gripping the camera harder, until it was audibly creaking.  He span the camera around and it fell on the red toy box at the bottom of TJ’s bed. “Here we go.”

“Yeah, I’m betting porn and an inflatable pony.” Zed chuckled in the background as Roy lay the camera down on TJ’s bed. He knelt in front of the box. Zed went through TJ’s action figures and miscellaneous cosplays, giggling fecklessly in the background.

Roy opened the box. “Look at this shit – fucking mall crap! Gotta bag this shit up.”

“Then what?” Zed said, some ice closing in on his voice.

“We gotta deal with Gil. If he’s bit, we gotta cut his head off; that bitch too, just to make sure.”

“I don’t know-”

“It’s fucked. It’s so different from how I thought it would be.” Roy sighed as he started to pack the weapons into a ‘Naruto’ duffel bag. “Fucking otaku pussy.”

He put his hand on his knee and eased himself off the ground.

Zed sighed; the character he had created had crumbled and he felt like a kid. His skin sticky and dry from where he had washed off Christie’s blood. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Roy fumbled as he picked up the camera and turned it off.

Another cut. The camera seemed to be resting on the edge of a sink, turned on by mistake as if placed there in a hurry.

Scuffling sounds, sounds of muffled whimpering. The camera was out of focus. A blurred figure came into frame and snatched it up. Fumbling sounds of plastic creaking. It was still being held low, around waist height; there was nothing to see just yet.

“You’ve got to do it.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I’m holding the camera,” Roy said, a cold smile in his voice.

Roy raised the camera, like a shield, to put the spotlight on Zed’s pale and drawn face. Zed sat on the bed in his room; he knew it had to be him. He swallowed hard, took TJ’s crappy mall sword in both his hands and unsheathed it a little to check it didn’t stick. He hesitated. “Oh, fuck it,” he said as he unsheathed the sword all the way. He threw the cheap scabbard across the room and held the handle as if it was a machete. The sword wasn’t quite a katana; it was one of those cheap ninja swords with a straight blade and no guard. He grabbed at his knee a little, rose with a jerky jolt of energy and began to march out of his room. Roy struggled to follow him out into the hall.

“Wait up, dude.”

They got to the inner door of the garage and Zed stood sullen with his hand on the doorknob.

“I thought he locked himself in?”

“He did, but I’ll try the door and then we can go around the front and open the garage door. He might be OK. Garage door makes a lot of noise,” Zed said.

“Yeah, best episode of ‘Zombie Stump Fuckers’ yet.”

Zed sneered and a sickly smirk passed over his face. He swallowed hard again and twisted the knob. The door opened with an uneasy jerk. Zed froze. He stopped breathing and then breathed out. Then in again with a low, shallow, silent breath.

He began to open the door wider, inch by inch, praying for it not to creak. It did. He took a deep breath and launched himself into the garage. Roy followed. The camera fell on Zed as he swung the sword awkwardly, nerves and adrenaline making it shake in his hands, creating an annoying rattling sound.

“What the fuck?” Roy said as he panned the camera up to a tense close up of the garage, lined with black bin bags. He zoomed out to Zed in his uneven warrior stance, a small pool of congealed blood on the floor. “Where’d he go?”

Just at that moment, a clichéd woman’s scream rang out and they both knew where he was.

“Mom?” Zed’s voice broke as he spoke, the sword shaking in his loose grip.

~

 

0

It hurts when I Brex-sit

Hello human people!
That’s right all you un-human people can fuck right off! Yeah! I don’t know where I was going with that.
Anyway what’s up? Oh right the title and the meme, yeah about that.
In case you haven’t heard my little island decided to end its participation the seventeen yearlong experiment known as the ‘European Union’.
Now the meme might give you some sign of what side I was on in said occurrence, but you’d be wrong. Although I was leaning towards leave because of the information I’d received from family and friends and other such sources like the internet of all places, I actually didn’t vote.
I just didn’t feel like I had enough knowledge to vote either way for the future of my country and rather than being a little bitch and voting to remain, I decided to just let the chips fall as they may.
And I gotta say I was pleasantly surprised. Not just to see that my country actually grew a set of balls overnight and voted for their own sovereignty ending their servitude to an un-elected un-democratic political body but to see all the butthurt statuses of my remain friends on facebook. That shit was too funny.
I mean the depths of salt, it was incredible. I saw discussions where people were literally saying that democracy was a problem. That people having the right to govern themselves is the problem. These people would rather suck up to an un-elected political cartel than accept the will of the actual people that live in the country.
The meme pretty much covers the basics of their arguments against the leave people. ‘Leave people are racist because I say so, old people are stupid because they don’t agree with me.’
Ok first point, to boil leaving the EU down to a race debate is so reductive it’s silly to even debate, it’s so selective it can only be used to beat people over the head with when you don’t have an actual argument against leaving. Who exactly are the leave people racist against? Muslims? Islam isn’t a race. Arabs? Arabs are an ethnic sub-category of Caucasian so in fact the same race as the leave voters.
But we’ve been seeing this tactic employed all over the place after Donald Trump, calling someone a ‘racist’ is really meaningless. I had an argument with someone once who claimed calling someone a racist was just a colloquialism as in it didn’t mean what it actually meant and thus the context and effect of that label didn’t matter. Can you imagine if someone publicly called you a paedophile and made that same argument claiming they intended it to mean someone who has a fondness for children?
Anyone can clearly see it’s just a silencing/shaming tactic bait and switch. You call someone a racist dragging along the full weight of that accusation and then when someone challenges you to explain why they just their shoulders and probably call you a racist.
Ok so old people are stupid and shouldn’t be allowed to vote if they disagree with me was something people genuinely said to me because older people made up the biggest block of leave voters. The people who remember what it was like before the eu and can see what it’s like after don’t have the right to vote to take their country back?
The argument being that it’s not their future because they’re going to be dead soon or something equally as moronic. The salt levels, I mean I get if someone isn’t mentally fit, but who decides when someone is too old to vote?

Children can’t vote for obvious reasons; we actually don’t want the guy with the welly on his head to win. But to say old people who worked all their lives for this country don’t have the right to decide its fate is ludicrous. It’s true it’s not their future but they have the wisdom and experience to decide what’s in the best interest of the seventeen year old morons saying old people shouldn’t be allowed to vote because if they had their vote the streets would be paved with fucking gummy bears and the taps would run with redbull or something.
I know the vote was pretty close and people as we speak are trying to institute a second referendum and our government is very pro-eu because they all want to retire to those cushy six figure eu jobs when they leave parliament and their home country bruised and bloody. So it might be overturned purely because they’ll keep bringing it up until people vote in their favour, democracy right.

Because when you lose at bingo you just put a gun to the person spinning that ball thing’s head and tell them to draw again til all your numbers come up and you don’t have to shout bingo as you spray his/her brains over a row of single mothers just looking for an outlet.
Although the petition I saw for a second referendum turned out to be a scam or a 4chan prank because most of the millions of votes came from Vatican city and korea.
The triggering, it’s real, people on my feed are so butthurt, for a person who loves chaos like this, a fan of schadenfreude such as myself, this is glorious. I saw no real reason to stay in the eu other than the racist rhetoric and some sketchy stuff about jobs and maybe some warm and fuzzy ideas about staying ‘fwuends’ with the rest of Europe while they legislate on what kind of toothpaste we can use. Europe are our friends true, but they’re the type of friend that steals from you and puts up post-it’s all over the house telling you how hard you can flush the toilet to save on water.
I have nothing else really to say about it, I just saw this and I thought I would publicly revel in other people’s discontent because that’s just the sort of shitlord I am ha-ha. But I gotta say, for the first time I feel some sort of national pride it’s a strange new sensation.

And for the people on the remain side, in the immortal words of the philosopher known as Papa Franku; “I gotta little bit of that anal cream for your asshole”.

See ya around.

0

Perfect Porridge

Yo, just want to first tell the people who will reverse image search the header to go die in a fire ha-ha. (You’re doing it now aren’t you?)
Ok this is just a little update/buffer before I post a new chapter of GS, I dunno I just hate the look of two chapters together in my blog postings. It just looks lame.
So just gonna give a quick update on my writing. My brother recently came home for a visit, and brought with him an idea I thought I’d written down but seemingly did not.
He had mentioned this great documentary to me maybe a year ago but I never got around to watching but for some reason he felt the need to recant the story at the perfect timing of Green Sunday coming to a close.
Hearing it again just clicked perfectly with the timing. For at least a week I’ve been agonizing on what to do next, rifling through the cavernous files of all my ideas and loose story synopsises. Feeling a little like Goldie locks; ‘This is too short’ ‘Too long’ ‘Too weird’ ‘too stupid’ ‘makes no sense’ ‘oh that’s just an empty word file with a cool title’.
At that point I’d resigned myself to the idea of doing a few short stories or novelette just to pad out of my repertoire while I shill for GS and build on whatever I had planned for nanowrimo which was probably that Dexter fanfic I had rattling around in my tormented little head bowl. And I’m still probably going to do that just to pump up my views on inkitt page and what not, just to keep my head above water, maybe enter them in a few writing contests. I’m just dying to do something completely different and not have to be locked into this possibly yearlong commitment like with GS.
I really enjoyed writing that but towards the end I started to think if it really had an audience, and I sort of came up with all my best ideas for social commentary while writing it but it was too late to put them in so just pushed them off onto a sequel, that might never happen.

Anyway so I watched this documentary and instantly had before me at least 13 pages of raw notes and ideas of how to further the story and really make it my own. For anyone that hasn’t searched the image like the little Miss Marple’s you are, it’s a true story about a boy that goes missing but is then discovered in a foreign country years later.

The bones of the story are all lined up for a perfect faux murder mystery psychological thriller conspiracy story akin to the changeling. I just need to add the meat, my own characters, sub plot, the life and soul of the story. I’m going to breathe life into it and make it my own the only way I know how. Maybe add a little true detective/twin peaks “magic” ha-ha.
It’s something I’ve longed to write since I started, something dark and gritty and also melancholy and suspenseful with a truly captivating plot full of twists and turns and danger and intrigue of which I will add.
A gripping thrill ride that will have people’s head scratching weeks after and give them pause in their beds before they lay their heads down to sleep.

It’s still in the planning phases as yet, I only have 16 pages of rough synopsis, I’m going to go over it and see if I can double it, adding my own sub-plots and characters as the weeks progress. Alternating between writing the novellas I already have synopsisized (That’s a word) blogging and plotting this potentially award winning airport novel ha-ha.
Honestly I think GS taught me to not be so self-indulgent, I ned to focus on stories that will really make my mark, that will give me a voice and put my name on the map before I can re-visit ridiculousness of that calibre. It’s why I chose to side line the Dexter fanfic, it’s too self-indulgent, I can’t just finish a series I love and just think I can jump into writing the next wave of those books just yet. And even if I did, what am I going to do just ask Jeff Lindsay to endorse it, hope he’ll see that mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery and not sue me ha-ha. It’s something I’d love to do but I think I need to put it off til I get some leverage in the industry as opposed to the zero I have now ha-ha.

Ok so that’s what I’m doing, I don’t really have a title for this next project of which I will be doing for nanowrimo. The working titles I have right now are; “(The)Wanted Son/(The)Wanted boy/boy in the backyard/the boy that came back”.
I didn’t fuck around this time, I googled all those titles to make sure I would be the top search result if it was paired with the word ‘book’. My first title was ‘The stranger’, fucking retard I am. I’m not fucking around this time, I want this to be an original book title, that’s interesting and thought provoking and mysterious without being derivative.

All things aside my life pretty much fell apart a week or two ago, but to be fair I didn’t have much use for one any way, and it was definitely getting in the way of my writing. That’s all I can say on the matter really, I could sit and mope or I could ride the crest of this new wave of energy I feel from these new projects. Onward and upward and all that inspiring shit people say and don’t really believe ha-ha kill me :’).
No seriously, all good, I just need time and maybe prescription medication.
Oh shit, this would have been the perfect opportunity to write something about the Orlando shooting, fuck I’m self-centred, ah never mind, maybe next time.

Peace be upon you…. ALLAH AKBAR!!!!!!!!

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Green Sunday Chapter 15 ‘Strange Eyes’ (Raw)

Finally back in black on facebook, spent all morning trolling people about Trump and getting in various pointless internet arguments to spark the old brain furnace going. I know it’s pointless but it sort of just gets me going, it stokes the coals, gives me a rush, really gets me in the mood to tear some shit up in a literary sense. If it doesn’t consume my whole fucking day. I always like to think that the mind is like a razor and you need to take it out and cut now and then so you can remember how to use it and keep it nice and sharp. Or if you like some ancient samurai quote about swords getting rusty or covered in blood and sticking I can’t be bothered to google ha. Even better highlander two; “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if you don’t take it out and use it, it’s going to rust”. Which now I’m recalling it probably also is about swords since it’s highlander but for some reason has always sounded like it was about dicks. Guess that says more about me than the film. GOTZ D DIKS ON D BRIANZ OOOOOHHH!!!1111

My audience (all three of you, and that’s being generous) will be happy to know as of some time in the middle of the day yesterday or was it the day before? I completed Green Sunday, my steaming pile of something close to zombie satire. Kaloo kalay, I hear you say.
Yeah well still in editing hell despite being completed, here’s the following chapter, I’m gonna keep editing it on the same schedule, no reason to rush that stuff just because it’s completed. Instead I’m gonna keep editing it gradually and move onto writing something else in the mean time to keep me sharp and sane. I’ll decide later today if I want to plan for nanowrimo or just do a short to bump up traffic on my inkitt page and show people I can write more than zombexploitation. Maybe something dramatic, a period piece. I am fucking with you. It’ll be in the same vein, maybe something a little more serious, a little more pulpy or surreal. Gonna start hashing it out after I finish writing this crap.
Ok well long story short, this is the first portion of the next chapter where some crazy shit happens, some resident evil maybe some weeb action who knows?

As usual you can check out the full chapter on inkitt until I find something better. I think inkitt is ok but I might change it to goodreads if I go the self publisher route just because the review system on inkitt lends itself to nepotism. But who am I to complain with my five star rating haha?

GS Chapter 15 ‘Strange Eyes’

~

The brief silence ripped apart like a laminated piece of paper. A red beetle door with garish orange flames spray painted on it flew across the garage. Spinning like a coin flipped by a king kong size index finger and thumb. It hit the wall of the shop pancaking the fat bike. Embedding itself in the concrete and sheet metal load bearing wall.

The fat biker was eviscerated by the force of the door and his body hitting the wall. He looked like he’d fallen from space. His body was only recognizable by garish near human shaped body parts. Hands, feet, an eyeball, a tongue. A limb with bone shrapnel perforating the skin from as many places as seemed humanly possibly. His bodies wet carcass popped like a waterballoon full of dark red jello. Sticking in some places, plastered to the wall. Heavier matter slopping on the floor making a cringe inducing wet slapping noise.

He looked inside out. Grown men who watched people beat eachother to death and fed people to half dead freaks threw up raw hotdogs on the concrete floor.

Mojang shook as he clutched the grenade launcher in his large hands.

The bikers watched without sound as a puckish boy hopped off the rim of the pod. His body size and shape gave him away to be an age range that could have been anywhere between sixteen and twenty. He had a slim strong frame, coming to a short height of only around five foot four.

He scanned around the room. His face wasn’t visible for a carbon fibre helmet covering most of his head. Making him looking something between a paladin from WOW and a power ranger. His body was covered in a skin tight compression suit covered in individual plates of a space age metal. The plates moved and breathed with his body like the scales of a dragon.

A slit in his visor gave way to a penetrating stare and a strange set of blue green eyes. One eye was blue, the other was green.

The boy looked around the room like the terminator, but his eyes had a feint smile to them. As if he was in on the joke. His gaze nevertheless was cold and unfeeling with no unessecary movments. When he’d finished he flashed a cocky grin with his eyes and turned around. He hopped back onto the pod like Peter Pan, dislodging a strange chrome rod. The rod flaired out in the middle in both directions. Leading to two conical points on either end, measuring almost the length of the boys entire body.

Clutching it in the middle by what was now evidently a handle. He crossed his chessed with the strange chrome double ended lance and let out a cocky breathy laugh.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? This clown need to make you balloon animals? GREASE THIS MOTHERFUCKER!” Mojang stuttered wrestling with the volume of his voice as his whole frame shook from the base.

A symphony of gunfire erupted. Small arms fire popping and snapping in the small metal box building. Small machine gun fire, revolvers, pistols. A staccato ww2 bolt action rifles cracking like thunder intermittently. Between satisfying metallic clicking noises of bolts moving into place. The assault rifles slicing in whip like bursts of ecstatic crescendos. Bassy shotgun blasts punctuating the end of a phrase.

“I’m out”

“Me too”

The lancer punctured the cloud of dust and debree. And with one dismissive gesture it was dispersed. Revealing the lancer in his silvery scale armor. He looked untouched.

“What the fuck?”

“We missed?”

“I’ll stick this motherfucker!” An older man with long silvery hair and a black leather jacket covered in patches chimed in. He held a mosin nagant ww2 bolt action rifle. He’d so proudly procured it from a dead ww2 vets house. He could almost see nazi helmets popping off with each satisfying pull of the antique trigger. The fool charged the lancer, bayonet flashing in the air with martial furry.

The man came in at angle to the side of the Lancer, who didn’t even turn his head to the charging man. Despite his loud cries and determination to skewer the young knight.

The man lunged forward with the bayonet like a pike and stabbed at the lancer who didn’t move an inch. The instant the blade made contact with one of the many small plates coating the lancers body. A small sharp explosion like a party popper broke the supple body of the wooden gun stock. The gun shattered lit it had been struck by lighting and sent the bayonet bounding back. Firing like a piece of shrapnel up under his jaw and coming out the top of his head. Blood erupting out of the top of his head and mouth like a science fair volcano before he ragdolled to the ground.

The Lancer struck a pose and cast a cheeky grin with his strange eyes “I guess that means it’s my turn.” A tinny voice said over the rising dust and smoke.

~

Thanks again for checking it out (wait, did I even thank you a first time?) don’t forget to go to my inkitt page if you liked what you read and want to read more of that stuff.

GS Chapter 15 ‘Strange Eyes’

Cheers!

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“Safe spaces”

After what I think is maybe my fourth ban from facebook I think a rant is in order.
Recently I’ve had a lot of life piled on me keeping me away from all this wonderful stuff, not that I’m complaining. Most of it if look at my facebook feed is beautiful adventures with the most important person in my life. A bountiful expression of love for a person who’s filled my days with more rapturous happiness than I thought possible (She reads my blog fyi :P).
But some of it is my day job, dieting, excercise and arguing/trolling people on facebook who can’t seem to seperate their political views from their ever so precious feels and delicate sensisibilities. Mostly Bernie supporters, I have nothing really against Bernie, I just think his followers are a lot of insipid cultists who wallow in self pity and blame all their problems on ‘the man’. And like him don’t really understand economics and how his policies can’t really work in a capitalist system. So they try and downplay the socialism, but there’s really know way his policies could work without a socialist system. Which in america seems unfeasible.

I got for what is known on facebook as “Hate speech” which pretty much equates to any coloquial slur or shortening of a word. I said tranny the first time and I didn’t use it as a slur, just for what it is a shortening. But I get it’s un-pc for anyone but a tranny to say tranny. Then I guess I was on like a hate speech watch list and I don’t know if it was a bot or an especially vindictive facebook sjw. But it seemed like my entire feed was gone over with a fine tooth comb to weedle out the slightest hint of ‘wrongthink’.

I then was found guilty of using the colloquial insult of “faggot” I know what a crime, what a cishet oppressor I am for using a word that offends people. Well then I got banned again and again. I got banned for like one day then when I was reinstated they found something else to ban me for, this time three days. Then the same thing happened again, this time it was a week.
This time I made the mistake of commenting on some propaganda I saw on facebook and I quoted it. It was some anti-Trump propaganda where it accused him of saying racist slurs like “Beaner” and “Wetback” and “Anchor baby”. Well the last one isn’t a slur, it’s actually just a term.
All I said where “When did Trump say beaner?” Banned for thirty days. seriously?

Just quoting a video is hate speech now? I mean who are they protecting here? Do they honestly think they can stop racism/homophobia/etc just by stopping people saying the related words?
And even saying that I think back to the ban bossy campaign and it just sends me reeling when I think about the Orwellian idea of newspeak. If you don’t know ban bossy was a group of feminist morons including Facebook’s own Sheryle Sandberg who blamed women not getting ceo jobs on being called ‘Bossy’ as children. Which goes without saying is beyond asinine.
But, the idea of newspeak is to limit speech for the purposes of limiting thought. How can you speak out against something you disagree with if you don’t have the words to do it? Not that I think insults or racist slurs are good for the effort of changing things to fit the ideologies of a racist. What I don’t like is the idea of controlling speech for the purposes of controlling thought. Forcing some pc orthodoxy on everyone.
You can’t speak freely on facebook because you can’t know what will be listed as “Hate speech” next, so you just have to walk on eggshells and watch what you say on what is supposed to be a free and open social media site.
But even saying that now there are people who will read this and say something as retarded as “You’re only against pc culture cos you wanna be free to be racist”. To which I would respond “Yes, I do want to be free to be as racist as I want, which is not at all”.
I’ve literally seen this response, there was a video of right wingers saying pc culture makes them afraid to speak for fear of being called a racist. To which all the liberals responded by calling them racist proving their points perfectly.
Racism/sexism have no meaning in this generation, none at all they’re just thought ending cliche’s, words used to silence a person you don’t agree with. Like for instance… Trump.
I’d challenge anyone to link me to anything racist he’s said, any slur or generaliazation, you wont be able to find one. The label racist is only thrown at him because he’s against illegal immigration. When they call him racist, they’re trying to shut him up and make people afraid to support him. It’s standard form propaganda. And it’s the same with anyone that disagrees with this rampant pc culture. No disagreement is allowed, you’re either with them or against them.

I don’t really know what I’m trying to say which is standard for a rant I guess, just butthurt and need to bitch. I’m just sort of saddened by facebooks pandering and greed. First they limited free speech by charging people for reach, which is disgusting enough but now these Orwellian speech codes. I hope they tank, I hope a new site comes up and demolishes them because freedom speech is the only the cure for this.
Safe spaces and pc culture will only make us weaker and stupider as a species which only benefits invading aliens or maybe the illuminati or whatever haha.

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Chapter 14″Legendary Weapons” (Raw)

Bonjour chaps and chappetes, or all the three people that read this shit. As you may have noticed I haven’t posted for a while. I’m not sorry, life and my day job has been on top of me like a horny silver back that thinks my ass is full of bananas. And I went on holiday, I know woe is me, I went to Barbados to drink drinks with tiny umbrellas in them. Also been doing a lot of baking and cooking like a manwife but that’s neither here nor there.
Well I’m back on track now for a couple of months so I should be posting regularly again until July. As you can see, got a new raw chapter of GS and a new edited chapter which I’ve yet to work through but I will. Also got a lot more money at the ready, what with all the day jobbing so I can afford a lot more chapters to be professionally edited and maybe a few more knives to review so hold out for that.

Without further ado I’ll get on with schlocking the new chapter. Lots of lovecraft in this one, lots of action. It’s a pretty fun set up to probably the most fucked up action/gore wise the entire book goes into. So it was pretty fun to write, a lot of my heart and baby batter went into it and I hope you enjoy it. As usual for copyright/paranoia purposes this is just an excerpt and you can check the full chapters in order on inkitt linked below.

Chapter 14

~

An obnoxious beam of light perforated the dry dusty dark. Translucent fingers of light fumbling over burnt play mats and wooden toys. Simple wind up toys melted and disfigured by a burnt out fire. Frilly petticoats of little cotton dolls, singed beyond repair. Cheap plastic action figures curled into a praying position by a burst of intense heat. Grey and black ashes making a shifting carpet of despair. The light brisk morning air breezed through the holes in the roof of the burnt out nursery.

Bodies strung nonchalant from the buckling ceiling of the single storey building. The beams of which were melted and twisted. But remained the only thing keeping the building together. The bodies, some of which were burnt, most of were not. Fresh looking ones, some with biker gear indicating how disposable they were, some without. Their heads crushed or missing or pulled apart like soft pizza dough.

The bodies swayed in the delicate breeze, suspended by their feet to the steel beams in the ceiling. Exposed as they were by the collapsing asbestos tiles. Tied there with skipping ropes and belts and ties and anything on hand. Clear tape and shoe laces worked well. Despite the noisey crinkling sounds it made as the bodies swung.

As the bodies parted, swinging free. An inhuman gargantuan figure appeared. Hunched over a toybox turned altar for some obscure obsession.

Whispering, whispering, hoarse whispering. A sudden shrill whistling sound. Followed by sharp clap and a low rumbling shook the foundations of the building. Tossing up sickly plumes of grey and black dust and ash.

“It’s time Lamby.” Jeff said as he picked up the plush lamb off the toybox altar and shoved it gracelessly into his fanny pack. Zipping it up litigiously, he began to walk out of the crestfallen building.

~

TJ lay on his back on the floor of his living room, his eyes open but seeing nothing. The room spun around and he felt black wings circling. The ceiling fan getting closer and closer and he couldn’t move. He was frozen in place, a three hundred pound greasey paper weight staring into nothing.

“TJ can you hear me? We don’t have time for this.” Sunday knelt at his side, pushing the coffee table off at a jaunty angle making a loud screeching noise. “TJ, I need you to wake up” She took one of his sweaty hands and cupped it in her cold palms. “I need you.” She placed his large hand with its chubby digits on her chest. And delicately probed her humble breast with the large clumsy instrument. “Shit if that didn’t work” She said as she dropped his meaty forearm onto the carpet.

“I didn’t tell you anything about myself. I know this isn’t the best time.” She turned around on the floor to sit beside him. Lifting her knees up to rest her forearms on and cradle her head as she spoke. “But I get it, it hurts, I know that more than anyone.” She turned her head away from him, resting on her forearms across her skinny knees. Her face becoming drawn and moist “Losing someone, sucks, fuck that sounded dumb.” She laughed at herself as she sniffed back a few tears.

“I came from a town just like this, it wasn’t exactly like this, close enough.” She lifted her head up and looked at the catatonic TJ. She smiled as she wiped her nose on the sleeve of an old disturbed hoodie she found in the closet. “I was pretty normal, went to school, most of the time, went for walks, took out the garbage.” she took a sharp inhale of breath.

“My parents died when I was really young. Me and my brother spent most of our childhood in foster care. Oh yeah forgot to mention, I have an older brother, Adam, Adam Evens. That’s my last name, Sunday Evens, pleased to meet you.” She said as she smiled reaching over to shake TJ’s limp hand before dropping it back down onto the carpet.

“He pretty much raised me, taught me how to fight, don’t know who taught him. Taught me how to fix cars, I’m pretty handy with a blowtorch. That was the first job he got, worked in a body shop. As like an apprentice to this skeezy old fuck who was always trying to pick me up. I was like fourteen, he wasn’t a bad old guy, just kind of a freak” She looked straight at the wall “Aren’t we all?”

“It was hard, but we made it, we were something close to happy. Didn’t have anyone to tell us to get up or go to bed or do our homework, but we did it. We had to, we were all we had in the world, an island in a sea of shit.” She slid her forearms off her knees putting her hands on the side of her calfs and began to squeeze them tight.

“Then all this shit happened, exactly like this. The zombies, then those weirdoes appeared. Started rounding people up, they took him, he tried to protect me, he died.” She squeezed her calves even harder, digging her fingers into her legs. “I swore, I fucking swore, to god or odin, or Krishna, that I would never, NEVER! Let anyone protect me ever again.” She bit her lip and kept her eyes locked forward. Her heart started to race her breathe became heavy and laboured. “I would use people, I would become a freak, I would kill, but I would never let anyone die to protect me.”

She turned to TJ who hadn’t moved an inch other than deep rhythmic intakes of breath.

“Didn’t hear a word I said huh?” She sighed “It’s probably for the best”.

~

Thanks for checking it out, tried to get a little heart more than meat in this one. Give a little glimpse into the character of Sunday. Anyway if you liked the excerpt don’t forget to check out the full chapter on inkitt and to read the corresponding chapters.

Chapter 14

Peace out!

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Ghostbusters failer

Snappy title eh? Bet you can’t guess by that and the comic strip show I feel about this trailer.
It’s about the only thing about this rant that will be snappy, I’m chomping at the bit to keep this short and not devolve into gutteral grunting noises and end it by curling up into the fetal position crying and sucking my thumb. I really have to keep this controlled or I’m gonna write a manifesto and be accused of the dreaded MUH-SOGGY-KNEES!

Ok enough preamble, let’s get up in this bitch… err lady… err ladies… err gender nonspecific pronouns.
The first thing about this trailer and I watched it and I sort of let it just roll over my eyes not really letting it go in the first time I watched it. But subsequently I watched reaction video after reaction video and seriously I must have watched at least fifty different reaction videos on youtube. Just trying to make sure this was real and I hadn’t entered an alternate dimension of pure concentrated SUCK.
So I’m gonna be really anal and not talk about the trailer and instead talk about the reactions to the trailer haha. The first funny thing is almost every male reviewer and male’s are obviously the majority of people reviewing this trailer… COS SEXISM! No. But they almost always (I always get fucking side tracked) had to give the a little caveat before addressing the female cast.
*DISCLAIMER* I am not nor have I ever been a member of the communist party… err I mean I’m not a misogynist.

Obviouly not as melodramatic as that but not far off. And I think it speaks volumes about this PATRIARCHY we obviously live in when almost every man on the internet is so shit scared of being called a misogynist they have to prostrate themselves on the alter of feminism and beg forgiveness for the audacity of having a negative opinion about a movie with a holy vagina carier in it.
Ok mini rant ceased!
Just had to get that out of the way and of course there were women reviewers who tore it apart too so no one especially not sony can really claim like they’ve been trying that it’s neckbeard heman woman haters hammering the living fuck out of the dislike button.
Someone even said that even gods of egypt which tanked had a higher like to dislike ratio on it’s trailer, but the new Ghostbusters trailer almost has double the dislikes than likes. So either the world is just full of misogynists and women with ‘internalized misogyny’ or this trailer is a steaming pile of ectoplasm.
What’s wrong with the trailer you ask? What the fuck is right with it? I ask you.
It starts off with this stupid piano version of the old theme ripping off when jurassic world did it. Then it says ‘thirty years ago four scientists saved new york’ and people have rightly latched onto this as bullshit for two reasons.
Reason one; this movie has claimed to be a reboot but is now acknowledging the previous films as if it’s a direct canonical sequel to the other two. And I’ve had it under good sources that the returning cast are appearing as cameos that are completely unrelated to the characters they played in the first, they’re just random guys held at contractual gun point by sony to prance around and bring in more people to watch this mess.
Reason two; there were technically only two scientists, Egon and Ray, Winston was more or less a temp and Venkman was a quack paraspychologist, which is not science any more than crystal skulls are a diet plan.
So the trailer hasn’t even started and it’s poked a hole in it’s own colostomy bag.Then we’re introduced to a recreation of the library scene from the original but instead of this creepy vibe punctuated with sarcastic comedy, we get an instant jump scare gross out visual gag which Feig is known for. The ghost just does an excorcist and pukes all over Kristen Wiig and then a follow up joke is implied when she talks about how the gunk got in all her cracks, haha vaginas and bums, so funny.

But wait that’s only the start of the non jokes. There’s also a joke where Kristen Wiig and the always nauseating Mellissa Mcarthy say ‘let’s go’ at the same time and awkwardly apologise politely and this is a joke, it’s just fucking cringe central.

We’re introduced to the characters in such a cringe worthy way ‘oh what’s her face you’re the best at quantum whatever, oh Egon clone, you do stuff that’s relevent to the plot’ and more to that effect. Oh and the black chick has a car. And of course she is a total token, loud black character ‘Oh lordy, I’m so black and large and loud’. And for a movie sort of aimed at that social justice crowd, fuck the haters progressive bullshit thinly veiled cashgrab, it seemed like an odd choice to not make her a scientist too. Or atleast choose a black actor that isn’t written like a fucking minstrel. And the car is a herse, the original car was an old ambulance, so either they did that on purpose because they’re fucking retards or the people making this reboot didn’t know the ghostbusters car was an ambulance, either out come is bad, it’s all bad folks. It’s idiots all the way down.
The effects look ok, there’s too much cg, I much prefer phsysical effects, even now that freaks me out, puppets and shit man.
Then there’s a joke where one of them wears a wig and a hat, no seriously that’s a joke, that’s a joke in this film. Go look for yourself.
Then there’s some ghostbusting montage and bit of Chris Hemsworth actually making women want to see this movie as opposed to making them all collectively yawn. Then the last joke of the trailer is Mcarthy getting possessed by the ghost of purest cringe. This scene is almost painful to watch as the black ghostbuster Patti basically slaps the ghost jizz out of Mcarthy ripping off excorcist again with such gems as “The power of Patty compels you!”
I mean seriously, you know that movie is forty years old right? So the new generous your trying to appeal to only tangentially understand that that’s a joke at all, not that it is, it’s not funny. And it doesn’t become funnier when you say ‘That’s gonna leave a mark’ after as if stating facts is now humour. I mean fuck that isn’t even a joke but its so old and so tired.
All in all it’s terrible, between the cast and the writing and the feel and Melissa Mcarthy punching ghosts with proton knuckle dusters, to quote tumblr; I just can’t even.
Honestly it’s not even so much the cast, I have no idea who Leslie Jones is but she’s not funny going by the trailer and in the international trailer it’s even worse and they get upstaged by Hemsworth of all people.
The chick who plays the new Egon I have never heard of but she’s like the token hot one I guess but she didn’t seem to do much.
Melissa Mcarthy plays the same character in every movie, which can be summed up in four syllables; FATTY FALL DOWN!
She’s just a female Chris Farly and it was barely funny when he did it.
I actually like Kristen Wiig, I’ve seen her in some pretty funny stuff and she’s actually the only cast member I approve of. But the tone and the writing seems so silly and so jilted and inorganic I don’t see how it can be funny.
I can’t really say my big bugbear is with the cast, I honestly think this movie would still suck even if you had all the original cast including using hoodoo to bring back Harold Ramis, who is as we speak spinning so hard and fast in his grave he’s achieved total plutonic reversal without crossing the streams.
The tone and the feel and the direction is all wrong and I’ve seen a leaked synopsis of the script and it sounds fucking awful. It doesn’t feel like a ghostbusters movie and far be it for me to try and encapsulate what that is in the summation of this blog. But this movie just feels like a summer comedy, it’s like an snl skit that got out of hand and grew into a film like mould.

It’s just silly, the reason people loved the tone of the original gb is  because it was a film first and a comedy second. If you removed the humour it would still be an interesting film, the comedy is inconsequental, it’s just there, it’s just a result of the tone and natural chemistry between the cast and that’s why it works so well, it’s not forced its organic.
This movie seems to just be a vehicle for terrible jokes, like the story and everything else is just decoration, it’s bridesmaids wearing the skin of ghostbusters without the swearing.

I don’t really begrudge the cast for making it, from what I’ve heard they’ve mostly gone into hiding and the entire cast and crew was forced to sign a second nda to prevent leaks. And there have been no real marketing pushes I’ve seen except a carcher pressure wash ad I just saw with the ghostbusters logo, wow sony, really pushing the boat out.
You know it’s damage control, they know it’s going down like the titanic they’re just trying to save as much money as possibly now by limiting the marketing and telling people to shut up as well as deleting all the negative comments that aren’t also sexist and racist in order to make their detractors all half a million of them look like Donald Trump supporters haha *wink wink nod nod current events*.

Honestly I thought this movie was going to be ok, I mean I knew I was going to hate it because I hate everything, I’m probably the anti-christ or distantly related to Hitler. But I thought it would be ok, like it would be funny, because I hear nothing but benign things about Paul Feig and people seem to suck Mcarthy’s dick but people like Amy Schumer and I want to throw her under a thresher. Fuck can you imagine if they cast her and Sarah Silverman, see looking on the bright side, it could have been worse.

Now excuse me while I raid my cupboards for whiskey soaked coasters to suck.

 

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