Posts Tagged ‘masochism’

Smallville In Extremis

Tuesday, 13 May 2008

It’s sheer kryptonite masochism to even write about Smallville anymore. The last 3 episodes have been as dismal as the previous.

Jimmy Olsen as 007/Bourne – Another “20 hours earlier” crapfest. My favorite part is when Olsen soundlessly drops from an AC duct. Must be a great feeling to start out an aw-shucks camera-wielding doofus only to discover you’re a ninja who can dance like Arthur Murray when forced into service by an agent of the “Department of Domestic Security.”

What if? – What if Clark had never made it to earth for some reason? Who knows, nobody bothered to come up with an interesting answer. Clark and his idiot super-cheekboned cousin can’t dodge a bullet across the room just because it’s made with kryptonite. This after countless previous seasons’ encounters where Clark had time to yawn and cook eggs at superspeed while various bullets crawled out of the ends of guns. If k-bullets were all it took to kill him, every villain would have such a gun.

Once again, Rosenbaum finds himself in the natty ironic all-white Apocalypse suit while the same footage of Judgment Day missiles from Terminator 3 gets re-used. Whew! That saves us writers like, a whole minute of creating anything new!

Then we’re treated to one of the most absurd scenes in the entire series’ history when Clark holds his baby self and places him in the ship that will carry him to earth! Is this still a dream? If not, where are Jor-El and Lara? Why does Clark lose his powers 2 seconds after skipping through the portal to Krypton? (Yes, I know about the red sun, but only kryptonite drains him that fast, otherwise, he loses his powers slowly).

(We interrupt this review with a mini-rant about Brainiac. This fucking plot irritant has never been given a solid background or explanation as to why it’s programmed to be evil, nor does Clark EVER try querying the Fortress crystals/Snore-El for answers about how to defeat it [or fly]).

The current episode where Lex follows yet another MacguffinI don’t know what to say about the “Veritas” plotline other than that it’s dumb. Just…dumb.

Wait…my super-hearing is picking up a meeting of Smallville’s writing team…

Smallville Writer #1: ….so we make Lionel part of this secret society that knew about Clark “The Traveler” all along!

Smallville Writer #2: But that makes no sense! It negates whole seasons’ worth of build-up! What about the Malachi caves?

Smallville Writer #3: Kawachi caves, dummy. Malachi was the name of the brothers in Happy Days that tried to crush the Fonz in a demolition derby. Thus, the Malachi Crunch.

SW#1: How did you know that?

SW#3: I’ve got internet access on my Sprint Gigapump Phonetextthingy! Everything you need!

SW#2: Shit. I’d have known that but I left my Sprint Gigapump Phonetextthingy in my Toyota Yaris. It’s sitting between the Yaris’s standard dual airbags and mp3 jack, right next to my pack of Stride Penguinmint Gum!

SW#1: AS I WAS SAYING, Lionel was part of this Secret Society along with Christopher Reeve, I mean, Virgil Swan. We just make everyone a part of this Secret Society in order to fill in any plot holes we missed: Swan, Margot Kidder, Chloe’s Mom Lynda Carter, The Queens, Lois’s Dad The General, Lana’s Parents, The Olsens, The Olsen Twins, The Trumps, The Jeffersons, The Bunkers, The Flintstones–

SW#2: —The Kents. (The other two look at him.) No? You said everyone! What’s the name of this Secret Society, anyway?

SW#1: I don’t know, but it’s got to be something Latin. Yaritas?

SW#3: Worry about that later. This Secret Sprint society will be the reason Lionel was always busy and ignoring Lex! Even though we’re not mentioning it till now!

SW#1: Because up until now it was a secret!

SW#2: What about when Lionel was made a Kryptonian vessel by Jor-El and won that episode’s superpowers lottery? Didn’t he get all of the answers right then? How could be give a crap about the Stride Gum Society after learning everything?!

SW#1: The answer to that, my friends, is simple. We kill off Lionel.

SW#2: Can’t we just make him blind again? Or shave his head in slow motion? That was cool.

SW#3: All right, let’s get started. We need another villain this week. The rebel vampire guy from Buffy?

SW#1: What the hell! It’s lunchtime! I’m having a salad! A very-tossed salad!

SW#2: Did you just say “veritas?” Isn’t that Latin?


This week we got a dose of “The Doctor” from Voyager as the last survivor of Veritas. Once again a mere mortal gets the drop on Clark–who can move at a speed par with light–by opening a secret lead compartment on his staff, revealing that all-purpose plot device, kryptonite. Oh well, even Clark’s not fast enough to speed away from lazy writing.

There was one cool moment this episode: the workings of the creepy CGI clock. spoiled only by the rest of the episode surrounding it. One cool moment in an hour (40 minutes, if you have Tivo) ain’t enough. Lest you challenge my opinion of the lameness, when Clark speeds out of the church the candles near the doorway don’t even flutter.

Coming up next week, it appears Lex, after weeks of chasing Super Macguffins around the globe, finally discovers the Fortress and possibly Clark’s “secret” now known by at least 10 or more people. Incidentally, the Fortress of “Solitude” has seen almost as many guests as the rent-controlled apartments on Friends.

I don’t know how finding the Fortress will enable Lex to ‘control’ Clark when NO ONE, including SuperBlonde Cheekbones who lived on Krypton for many years, knows how to operate it. The thing must’ve been made in China as it’s provided ZERO help from the day it was created. You’ve got the last remnant of an advanced world and civilization yet the writers can’t make a single compelling story around it. That, friends, is a total load of Stride.

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Love poetry, or Trying to Turn Shit into Chocolate Cake

Friday, 4 April 2008

You can write love poems—even good ones—for specific women as long as you don’t expect the words to work. Because they don’t.

I have a friend who already has self-published one small book of love poems. The cover looks cool, it looks like a real book, but the poems within are the opposite of good: riddled with clichés and trite expressions like dead bats hung on a clothesline of pretension.

Worst of all, they beg.

A wise woman already knows a man who confesses to love her is completely vulnerable, no matter how tough he acts. Supplicating makes a man seem weak. Really, if you want to do well with women, remember they are Klingons at heart. The few that have hearts, ha ha.

Sad to say the woman my poor friend Can’t Live Without™ whom he’s known for years, is an Asshole, a sanctimonious, “spiritual” cruella who hates him for some reason he’s never quite explained. Judging from the fury of her words, you’d think he raped her and left her for dead; I think he deceived her about something, but nothing close to cheating on her.

I’d offered to edit his first manu, but halfway through he up and self-published it, full of spelling errors and all.

I suicidally offered to edit the 2nd one and heard nothing more about it. Then out of nowhere, last week he asked if I’d looked at it. When I told him I never got the file he flipped, then sent it.

Now I’ve flipped.

Love Manuscript #2, aka More of the Same, almost 140 pages of short-yet-hard-to-stomach poems. I don’t even envy the prodigious output, it’s all terrible.  I’m trying like hell to make his stuff work, but secretly I hope he ignores my editing. I love my friend and hate his needless suffering, and not because I have to suffer his poopoetry. If I could magically erase the cruella’s horrible personality and reprogram her or create a magical fuckbot in her image, I would. I’ve already dared tell him in a 500-words-or-less essay why I think this woman is a disaster, that even if she saned-up he still has no future with her and should be glad for it. But he can’t listen to reason any more than his poems can un-suck: the poor SOB is in love.

Some people are just fucking machochists, I guess. Like me, trying to turn shit into chocolate cake.

(If you ever find this blog, my friend, you’ll have to forgive me. You’ve suffered enough).