Where the Wild Things Are II: The Return of Max

Max put on his wolf costume and stomped around the house.

"I'm the King of the Wild Things!" he roared.

"Keep it quiet in there," his mother called from the other room, "I have a migraine."

"The King of the Wild Things answers to no one!" Max roared, leaping from the couch like some sort of wolfskin-cloaked ninja.

"I'm warning you," said his mother, an edge of threat creeping into her voice.

"No, I'm warning you!" Max shouted. "The King of the Wild Things will eat. you. UP!" Max roared in triumph.

"I don't need this shit right now," said Max's mother. "Just go to your room until the pizza guy gets here."

So Max went to his room and sat plaintively on his bed. He folded his arms across his chest. He sneered at the door. The King of the Wild Things pouted.

"She's so mean," he said to the wall. "She doesn't appreciate me." A look of wonder crept into his eyes. "Not like...they do!"

So Max climbed into his boat and sailed across the sea, in and out of a year, until he came to where the Wild Things lived. He quickly climbed the beach and up over the hills of sand until he came to where the Wild Things were.

He saw them, huddled and shivering around a wan fire. They were quiet and despondent. Max positioned himself strategically upon a little knoll, so that he could overlook all of them and they could see him.

"Your King has returned!" he announced loudly. Suddenly, all eyes were focused on him. Max was happy. He growled in an attempt to reassert himself as the alpha wolf.

"Let the wild rumpus begin!" he shouted and began to dance there upon his knoll of return and victory.

"Wild rumpus?" said the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail-like legs. "We don't have time for a wild rumpus!"

Max stopped dancing. He stared out over the Wild Things, who all stared at him with their huge, golden eyes. Shadows from the flames flickered and danced across their features.

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail legs. "Things went to shit after you left. The economy has completely collapsed. Unemployment is hovering around 45%, inflation is running rampant, and a bunch of barons have started holing themselves up, fighting petty squabbles over small tracts of land to increase their meager hegemony and inflate their massive egos while the rest of us starve out here. We've been dealing with a drought for the past five years, and a famine for the last three. And just this year, we've been hit with a severe case of the Wild Thing Flu. People are dropping like flies. And without a king to protect us, barbarians have become emboldened and are now crossing our goddamned borders. And the best you can offer us is a wild rumpus? Get your scrawny ass back to the castle and start leading us, oh King of the Wild Things."

"Wild...rumpus?" offered Max weakly. He knew not what else to say.

"Didn't you hear a word I just said?" crowed the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail legs. "Listen, you scrawny little French bastard, we are not in the mood for a wild rumpus. What we need now is more leadership, less rumpassing. Oh, you know what? Screw this and screw you. We don't need a king anyway."

"But...the wild rumpus..." Max said. An unshed tear stood in his eye.

"Come on, guys," the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail legs said. "Let's get out of here."

"What should we do with the king?" asked the Wild Thing that looked suspiciously like Sweetums the Muppet, but with horns.

"Let's eat him!" said the Wild Thing with the eagle's head inexplicably mounted on the mammal's body.

"Yeah, let's eat him!" consented the rest of the Wild Things.

And so they did.

"You know," said the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail legs, "he wasn't so bad for a king. I mean, he did focus a little too much on his own desires to lead a wild rumpus, but after that he was kind of nice. He wasn't too cruel." He leaned back against a log, crossing one leg over his knee and picking at his teeth with a twig. At this side, the Wild Thing that looked suspiciously like Sweetums the Muppet, but with horns, played a harmonica.

"So, now what should we do?" asked the Wild Thing with a goat's head and the human's body.

"I dunno," said the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail legs, "all this feasting has kind of killed my desire to be part of an angry mob."

There was a rabble of general consensus around the fire.

"Tastes like chicken," said the Wild Thing with the eagle's head mounted inexplicably on a mammal's body as it worried that last bits of food from a bone.

"Dude," said the Wild Thing with the orange and brown stripes and chainmail legs, "that's just wrong on so many levels."

Review Time: Wolverine

So, I saw X-Men Origins: Wolverine last night.

I should have seen Star Trek.

What a piece of shit. This was bad. I mean, this was Revenge of the Sith bad. This made X-Men: The Last Stand almost palatable. And for those who didn't see the third installment of the X-Men movies, a diarrhea sandwich wouldn't make that X-Abortion palatable.

I realize it's unfair to hold every movie adaptation of a comic to the standards of The Dark Knight, so I decided to go into the movie expecting something akin to Iron Man. Instead, I felt like the camera operator from Zack and Miri Make a Porno. You know what I'm alluding to, so don't pretend that you don't.

Okay, so, it's easier to tell you what I liked about the movie than to list it's many faults. So, here it is, in easy-to-read list form:

1. When Silver Fox lay dying at the end of the movie, her shirt was open a little bit and you could see some side boob.
2. Will.i.am as Kestrel Wraith was pretty sweet. His fight scene with Sabretooth was pretty cool.
3. Wade Wilson was sweet. Obnoxious and mouthy, never shutting up, and deadly with his blades. Notice, I said Wade Wilson.
4. Silver Fox in her white night gown. No panty lines. Awesome.

And...that's it.

Now, for the bad. I won't go into all of the bad, because then I'd be writing a Tolkien-esque tome, and I'd really like to keep this somewhat manageable.

Gambit: My favorite mutant in the X-Universe was Colossus. Unfortunately, in X-Men 3, he lost the Russian accent (you know, the one he didn't have in X-2, either), didn't get huge when he turned metal, and his abilities were still transferable to Rogue. Pretty much, they gutted him. I bring this up because my second favorite mutant is Gambit. I like Gambit because he's a badass, he's shady, he's cocky, and he blows shit up. Unfortunately, this Gambit apparently can't remember if his accent is supposed to be Cajun or Douchebag. The whole time, even while he's sitting in a seedy bar in New Orleans hustling poker players, he's clean-looking. Oh, sure, he had a little stubble and wore a hat briefly. Fortunately, someone remembered that part of his mutant powers was an uncanny acrobatic coordination. Apparently, though, Gambit no longer has to touch objects in order to charge them with kinetic energy. And his staff? It's not supposed to have a jewel on the end of it like he's some kind of pimp out selling whores. It's supposed to be for knocking jaws loose. This is the dude that Rogue's supposed to fall for? Only if she's a drunken sorority chick blowing guys during a kegger. I'm not sure I know what that's supposed to mean, either. They totally fucked up Gambit's eyes, too. Yeah, there was one tiny flash, but part of Gambit's shadowy persona is the dark eyes and the glowing irises. Instead, we get a flash of pink and suddenly things that he gets near are explosive, not what he's held in his hand long enough to charge. So, if you're playing along at home, that's two of my favorite characters that have been completely and totally fucking ruined by the movies. Who says no one bats 1.000?

The Escape from the Island: Pretty much, the whole ending sucked. Did we really need to bring in Emma Frost just for her diamond skin? There's lots of impregnable mutants in the X-Universe. But, we had to go with Emma Frost, who, by the way, just got those powers a few years ago as a secondary mutation. She had always been a telepath before that. But, hey, whatever it takes to put a pretty blonde on the screen in a wife-beater, right?

At this point, I should apologize if any of my fellow theater-goers happen to stumble across this blog. When the voice appeared in Cyclops' head telling them which way to go to get out of the base, I couldn't refrain from groaning "Jesus Christ" out loud. Sorry. Apparently, Professor X decides to recruit Cyclops as he's escaping Three Mile Island rather than at the orphanage, but instead of communicating with the telepath (Emma Frost), he opts for Cyclops. No plot holes here, fellaz! Maybe there was an orphanage on Three Mile Island where Cyclops lived, I'm not sure. But when Professor X walked down from the chopper to greet Cyclops and Emma Frost and the rest of Generation X as they escaped the military complex, I about threw up. But then, it fit in with everything else about the movie that was so very, very wrong.

And Silver Fox's "ability" was that the Weapon X program had given her some of Wolverine's healing factor. Otherwise, she was just a human. Now, she has this "touch people and make them do what she wants" ability. I could understand if she was wearing that white nightie thing throughout the movie, but there's nothing mutant ability about what I'm alluding to.

It was nice to see Jonothon Starsmore held in one of the cages that also housed Emma Frost (the supposed sister of Silver Fox...because so many Native Americans have pretty blonde sisters). However, he never appeared again in any of the escape scenes. I noticed the twins that make up Monet St. Clair were freed, but apparently Jono couldn't make it out. That's fine, though, because I like Chamber and they'd have just fucked up his character, anyway.

Deadpool: Apparently, the Merc with a Mouth needed to have it sewn shut for the fight scene, only to have it magically reappear at the end in the little scene after the credits. I realize that he had a healing power implanted in him, but having him turn into Sylar from Heroes was fucking ridiculous. He teleports not because he has Kestrel's Wraith's ability implanted in him, but because he has a personal teleporter machine. And the whole thing with Cyclops' eyebeams was fucking stupid. I guess we all learned that Adamantium can act like a light saber in deflecting energy blasts back at the origin (despite the fact that Cyclops sheared off one of Wolvy's hands during the Age of Apocolypse story arc...the same beams given to Deadpool). What a fucking joke they made of Deadpool. And not the good kind, like the ones he cracks when, you know, he has a mouth to run incessantly.

Wolverine: I thought Wolverine was supposed to be badass, prone to rage, and deadly. I didn't realize he was whiny and brooding. We don't need depth, people. We need someone with razor-sharp claws coming out of his hands that he uses to gut people. That's all.

But, apparently, adamantium is not only indestructible, but it also doesn't get covered with blood when it's been shoved through someone's body. Oh, and it apparently cauterizes the wounds that it makes so that you don't bleed out of them. The thing I found mind-boggling, though, was that he walked out the lab after telling Silver Fox he was done with her, had made it all the way down several flights of stairs and was well away from the building when Sabretooth grabbed Silver Fox in the lab and threatened to kill her. Miraculously (maybe he borrowed Deadpool's teleporter) he reappears in the lab seconds later, without his leather jacket and shirt (apparently, the teleporter forgot those items), and fights Sabretooth. Awesome, Wolverine's a teleporter now! Nightcrawler, we hardly knew ye.

It's also quite amazing how, with the addition of some adamantium to his skeleton, Wolverine can now beat the shit out of Sabretooth every time, whereas prior to that he lost every single fight!

Also...in the opening montage...did anyone ever wonder "Now, why would a Canadian citizen be fighting in the U.S. Civil War?" And, for some reason Viet-Nam. The Viet-Nam thing made no sense, anyway, as Wolverine should have already been through the Weapon X program by then (he entered it shortly after WWII). But, you know, they didn't exactly follow along with any other part of the X-Men's universe, so why should they start now, eh?

Weapon X: I thought Maverick was German, not Grant Imahara from Mythbusters. Also, shouldn't he be able to absorb the force of the helicopter crash and emerge relatively unscathed? And wasn't he friends with Wolverine? Every time he was sent to kill Wolverine, he botched the mission on purpose. Not so here. And what about all the Alpha Flight members who came out of Weapon X? Where the hell were they? And why was Blob in this? For the fat jokes? Blob served absolutely no purpose to the story; he wasn't ever a member of Weapon X. I guess he was there so he could box Wolverine. Oh, how fantastic.

Okay, that's enough. It's horrible, okay? Don't waste your money on this piece of shit. Aside from the gross misrepresentation of the characters on the screen, the story isn't even compelling. There's some whiny bits in between fight scenes, and despite the fact that these are superhumans with amazing powers, their powers are largely absent from the multitude of fight scenes that pepper the movie. The only one who uses his powers in the fight is Kestrel Wraith, which makes that the best fight in the movie. Unfortunately, it's also one of the shortest. Even the climactic ending left me audibly groaning, despite the fact that I knew it was a comic book story (heavy on the comic part) and I was working my suspension of disbelief hardcore. It was like the director looked at a pile of comics, said "That's nice", wiped his ass on them and set it all to film.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shoot some adamantium bullets into my brain to try and purge the memories of this travesty from my mind.

Book Review: Orcs

A couple of weeks ago, Fancy Schmancy noted that they could use a weirdo like me over at the Book Nook Club. I checked it out and felt terribly honored to be at least thought of as belonging to this crowd. However, Ms. Schmancy...do you see how often I use the word "fuck" in a post? To quote Mr. Krabs, There ain't nothing fancy about that word.

That being said, let's move on to the review of the first book I read this year (well, completed...I started it in 2008).

You guys know I love me some Tolkien, right? Ever since the Lord of the Rings began making it onto the scene in the 50s and 60s, there's been a whole shit ton of authors trying to recapture the beauty and magnificence of Middle Earth. Without these people, I wouldn't have the inspiration to write my own shit brilliant masterpieces, however, there's a lot of bad fantasy literature out there. There's a lot of good, but there's also a lot of bad.

And then there's the fantasy story that comes along which defies hyperbole and becomes the literary equivalent of the aftermath of a night of drinking Schlitz Malt Liquor and pounding cheese-and-rice burritos from Taco Bell. Orcs is one of these stories.

Oh, the concept is great: tell a story from the vantage point of a band of Orcs, the typical bad guys in the center of all Tolkien-esque fantasy stories. For some reason, no one ever fights bad elves, it's always Orcs. They're big, they're brutish, they like to fight, they typically die with the faintest brush of a sword blade or arrowhead. Let's turn that shit on its ear and see what makes these big, brutish beasts click. Sounds great, right?

However, much like that night of quaffing Schlitz Malt Liquor and eating burritos, what seems like a good idea ends up failing miserably in the execution--and you spend a lot of time with stomach pains and cold sweats.

This is another boringly typical story about a band of heroes that have to find a mystical, magical item that's been broken into pieces and the heroes must collect and assemble them. It's essentially what I think of as Final Fantasy literature, where everyone gets a different weapon, the characters have different abilities, and the warband can upgrade at each new stop along the way of what turns out to be a predetermined quest route that criss-crosses the map and leads the reader through various side quests along the way. Ho fucking hum. The non-Orc characters are basically created by flipping through a D&D manual and stopping randomly along the way, picking out whatever fey creature has shown up.

And, of course, there's a big, bad, nasty, evil queen, whose also a sorceress. She abuses her underlings, kills her sister magically, and terrifies everyone...oh, and her magic is fading. So, of course, no one just says "Fuck this shit" and kills her during one of her brutal, megalomaniacal sprees. No, they all cower before her.

In order to regain her magic, she must eat the still beating heart of some victim. Here's the catch: it can't be just a regular heart, it has to be one harvested during an orgasm! Isn't that quaint? So, of course, there's awkward sexual scenes scattered throughout followed by brutal slayings and overly descriptive illustrations of the eating of the hearts. Yummy. It also allowed the author, Stan Nicholls, to work in the line "unicorn horn she used as a dildo."

Yes. You read that right. Feel free to reread that, scratch your head and shake your head in disgust. I did. And I read the shit in the first place. Joy.

Couple this with what is very obviously an author's rage against religion, and you've got yourself a neat-and-tidy little piece of tripe. I had a constant sense of deja lu whenever the "Unis"--religious fanatics that worship one God--were on screen. I fully expected to turn the page and find that the leader of the Unis not only wanted to kill all the non-human characters, but that he also wanted to limit research on stem cells, expand faith-based charitable organizations and write a constitutional amendment banning abortion. Ugh. I hate it when political views get worked into fiction literature.

On top of that, subplots aren't just discouraged, they're outright forbidden. Got something that might be interesting? Kill the character. Could maybe someone been giving them a false lead? Never! Soldiers are defecting from the queen's army en masse. Do they stand and fight against her? Perish the thought!!!

The story itself is easy to follow, only because it reads like it was written by a third grader who just learned what the word "copious" means. The plot straightlines to a trite and predictable and utterly unfulfilling ending, which, of course, means that the evil queen will be back just in time for a sequel. Color me thrilled. The simplicity of the writing, coupled with the fact that I hate leaving a story unfinished, and you have the only reasons why I was able to choke my way through to the end of this abortion of literacy. If you enjoy stories that are shallow, poorly-crafted, archetypical and feature little to no character development, this is the book for you--in other words, the next best thing to Twilight! If you're someone who actually enjoys reading, give it a wide berth and pretend that you don't even see it sitting there.