I'll start flipping the Church the bird in a minute. A couple things:
First, I'm so happy to have found this. Oh, Vienna Teng...how I love ya. Sure, Shane thinks your music is, "too slow," for his taste. Well, he's just a shit-kicker. Don't you pay him no mind.
Second, I told Jesse today that, "When Harlan Ellison talks about Science Fiction, he's talking about this movie." That movie, friends, is Serenity. However, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to retract that statement of pure adoration. After seeing it a second time, it's not half as good as the series was. The movie tries to do a little too much and falls victim to the typical Hollywood fuck-ups we've come to expect. If the movie could have been 3 hours, I think it wouldn't have been so bad. Fucking, idiot audiences...ruining things I like. I have a feeling that I'll be picking up the Firefly series on DVD this weekend. Granted, I watched 2 Episodes on Tuesday, and 12 on Wednesday...but it's good. Oh, it's good in a way the Holy Sorkin can not touch. Yeah. I went there. So, Serenity - good: Firefly - the shit.
Ya know, I didn't mean to segue quite like that, but I think it makes for an interesting transition into my beef with da Holy Church of the Big Guy. I don't mean to say that Aaron Sorkin is on the same level as God, but I think you guys are smart enough to catch the metaphor. The sacred and profane, people. That's what I'm talkin about. I'm certain that at least one sphinker tightened at the suggestion that maybe Mr. Sorkin ain't that cool. Hell, he's a hack! Fuck The West Wing. Fuck it in its stupid ass.
This must be what it feels like to go insane.
No, I love Sorkin. But that doesn't mean I can't love Joss Whedon too. Oh, I can hear the cries of relativism now. Fuck off, you! It all comes down to taste, really. Some people's taste is more exacting than others, and that ain't so bad. But it's when you start stamping your foot and shaking your fist in my face, screaming that Whedon couldn't write his way out of a pay toilet and that Sorkin is the most gifted writer ever, that I begin to have a problem. Oh buddy, it's a big'un too.
But you know what? I don't have enough space here to rant properly. I'll just say this.
Have a little courtesy, people. Don't wave your dick in my face and tell me it's the only way to salvation, kuz it ain't. And by your dick, I mean your faith. Because, in my mind, it's a little too close to a wang you intend to turn on my soul and that don’t sit proper with me. I don't think like youz, see? My taste is more exacting. I got deez ideers of ma' own. Follow? You ain't gona change my mind, you're just gona piss me off. If the 700 Club tells you, "that just means you're doing a good thing; it's natural for people to get angry when you speak the truth," I'll tell you that's just the sweat from God's nuts to your mouth, ain't it. I'm not pissed at all evangelists, just the ones that think they're gona get blood from this here stone.
Well, that was an ugly mess of incoherent thought. I think I may say something about my scatter-brained approach to thinking next time. Maybe not. We'll just have to click on the conveyer belt and see what the ol' blind man has for us...unless my taste buds are outa wack, I'd venture a guess it'll probably be a bunch of shit.
Jesus, I’m starting to think and type like a character from Firefly. I need help.