Now you do not punish a girl, Dutch or otherwise, for having big boobs.
I've officially finished watching The Office, about eight hours of the most awkward (Heh. Always have to triple-check the spelling of that one), un-funnily hilarious television a network has ever seen fit to broadcast. Naturally, it's BBC; no American network short of HBO would be comfortable enough to have a brief bit with a dildo, a semi-racist joke, or any of the thousand-and-one other brief bits that are perfectly suitable for adults. A sample bit of dialogue; for context, it's a seminar thing, people are listing their ultimate career goals, and Gareth Keenan (a living, breathing definition of "Gaunt") has just reentered the room:
Rowan: Gareth, quick trust exercise, ultimate fantasy?
Gareth: Hmm?
David Brent: We're just doing the ultimate fantasy, we're all doing it.
Gareth: Two lesbians probably, sisters. I'm just watching.
Rowan: OK. Erm. Tim? Do you have one?
Tim: I'd never thought I'd say this, but can I hear more from Gareth please?
It's like that for almost nine hours: people... ok, mostly nice guy/terrible person David Brent, say the most terrible things one can imagine, to the point where you're in physical pain watching this poor sap attempt to bully his underlings to say good things about him. Incidentally, if I ever ask anyone how old I look to them, please dislocate my jaw as soon as reasonably convenient. Be sure to explain why.
Also, the running quasi-pseudo romance between receptionist Dawn and desk-worker Tim (it's a white collar office; we don't know what they do there, except that it's got something to do with paper) has some of the most beautiful staring-across-the-room shots ever caught on film.
Just don't try to watch it if you're half asleep. The humor is as subtle as the wing-wind of a butterfly.
On the absolute opposite side of humor: if you enjoy lines like "Jasper said, 'Dash it all, chums, this sounds a mighty pickle.' Yup, get used to it, because that's how Jasper always talked," I can think of no better book to zip through than M. T. Anderson’s Whales on Stilts, which for my money has the best cover in Children's Literature today:
It looks better larger than that, of course.
Anyway, it's a light hearted romp, one I'd call both pulpy and rather surrealist if I was sure the words meant what I think they do. It's hardly a hefty, intellectual tome, partly because it's written by children and therefore doesn't realy need to have as well developed themes and characters, but mostly because it involves a bunch of whales with lasers for eyes invading small town America.
It also has a fake reader's guide. The only other book I can think of to do such a thing was The Pirates! In An Adventure With Scientists by Gideon Dafoe, although John Stewart and Co did give America: The Book some fake textbook discussion questions.
Brilliant in a different vein is Lois Lowry's The Giver, which is the other book I finally got around to reading. I don't read things deeply enough, perhaps, but I quite enjoyed the book regardless. I’d been put off a bit when the author danced around how the society came to be, but eventually even I realized that it wasn’t important. World War, New World Order, some small program instituted by Kansas and kept separate from the rest of the world-doesn’t really matter all that much. The ideas of the book aren’t much new-Huxley, for instance, had similar views of pain making things real-but The Giver sort of drove it home a bit deeper.
The ChildCare Action Project isn't as keen on the book, apparently because a book in which infanticide takes place must be giving it tacit support. At least they're not trying to ban To Kill a Mocking Bird. I won't stand for a ban on any book, even Mein Khamf, or (God help us) novels based on the hit series "Charmed", but if there's one thing I won't stand for the banning of, it's To Kill a Mocking Bird
I also read Good Omens, which was funny. I don’t really have much to say about it, because I feel like I’ve barely discussed anything at all in these ruddy things, I’ve got to get to bed, and I think I hear the clarion call of Phillip Roth’s libelous literature, The Plot Agaisnt America.
If Charles Lindbergh was alive today, he’d sue Roth’s ass.
Rowan: Gareth, quick trust exercise, ultimate fantasy?
Gareth: Hmm?
David Brent: We're just doing the ultimate fantasy, we're all doing it.
Gareth: Two lesbians probably, sisters. I'm just watching.
Rowan: OK. Erm. Tim? Do you have one?
Tim: I'd never thought I'd say this, but can I hear more from Gareth please?
It's like that for almost nine hours: people... ok, mostly nice guy/terrible person David Brent, say the most terrible things one can imagine, to the point where you're in physical pain watching this poor sap attempt to bully his underlings to say good things about him. Incidentally, if I ever ask anyone how old I look to them, please dislocate my jaw as soon as reasonably convenient. Be sure to explain why.
Also, the running quasi-pseudo romance between receptionist Dawn and desk-worker Tim (it's a white collar office; we don't know what they do there, except that it's got something to do with paper) has some of the most beautiful staring-across-the-room shots ever caught on film.
Just don't try to watch it if you're half asleep. The humor is as subtle as the wing-wind of a butterfly.
On the absolute opposite side of humor: if you enjoy lines like "Jasper said, 'Dash it all, chums, this sounds a mighty pickle.' Yup, get used to it, because that's how Jasper always talked," I can think of no better book to zip through than M. T. Anderson’s Whales on Stilts, which for my money has the best cover in Children's Literature today:
It looks better larger than that, of course.
Anyway, it's a light hearted romp, one I'd call both pulpy and rather surrealist if I was sure the words meant what I think they do. It's hardly a hefty, intellectual tome, partly because it's written by children and therefore doesn't realy need to have as well developed themes and characters, but mostly because it involves a bunch of whales with lasers for eyes invading small town America.
It also has a fake reader's guide. The only other book I can think of to do such a thing was The Pirates! In An Adventure With Scientists by Gideon Dafoe, although John Stewart and Co did give America: The Book some fake textbook discussion questions.
Brilliant in a different vein is Lois Lowry's The Giver, which is the other book I finally got around to reading. I don't read things deeply enough, perhaps, but I quite enjoyed the book regardless. I’d been put off a bit when the author danced around how the society came to be, but eventually even I realized that it wasn’t important. World War, New World Order, some small program instituted by Kansas and kept separate from the rest of the world-doesn’t really matter all that much. The ideas of the book aren’t much new-Huxley, for instance, had similar views of pain making things real-but The Giver sort of drove it home a bit deeper.
The ChildCare Action Project isn't as keen on the book, apparently because a book in which infanticide takes place must be giving it tacit support. At least they're not trying to ban To Kill a Mocking Bird. I won't stand for a ban on any book, even Mein Khamf, or (God help us) novels based on the hit series "Charmed", but if there's one thing I won't stand for the banning of, it's To Kill a Mocking Bird
I also read Good Omens, which was funny. I don’t really have much to say about it, because I feel like I’ve barely discussed anything at all in these ruddy things, I’ve got to get to bed, and I think I hear the clarion call of Phillip Roth’s libelous literature, The Plot Agaisnt America.
If Charles Lindbergh was alive today, he’d sue Roth’s ass.