"Can We Go See '50 Shades of Grey'?"
No. We're not going to see that movie because it's going to be awful because it's based on that awful book. I've never read the book, and I'm never going to, and yet I feel perfectly comfortable judging the shit out of it for being awful.
After all the crimes against language have been dealt with, we're left with what? A love story? I'm sure it happens in real life, but I'm not sure we need to celebrate falling in love with your serial rapist.
You're a whore.
Imagine if, instead of some good-looking guy wearing bespoke suits while he drives his helicopter off a skyscraper, Christian Grey was No-Shoulders Smalltooth Jones.
Smalltooth is a 56-year-old veteran who lives in the sewer and dresses like 1963, Greenwich Village, pre-Newport Bob Dylan, just at the shitline. It's like a water line on the beach, but instead of the tide coming in and playfully lapping at your feet, a swelling of liquid shit careers through the massive pipes at times of high traffic (usually twenty minutes after dinner time), sometimes physically moving Smalltooth a few feet downpipe, and sometimes even ending up in his lungs a bit. Smalltooth crawls out of his foul home every night (which he whimsically refers to as "going through the motions") and rapes a young student called Ana. Initially he talked about getting her to sign some documents releasing him of liability, but they never got around to it so now he's just raping her. Picture his aging paunch slapping off the small of her back with rhythmic apathy, the sort of sound you usually only ever hear from a studio audience after an interview with an unashamedly right-wing guest. Slow, deliberate claps of flesh smacking off flesh, but with no feeling or joy of any kind. As the audience is simply putting down time until Nigel Farage leaves the stage and they can listen to whatever shit music the kids are into these days, so also is Smalltooth simply putting down time until he spends in her colon.
That's not a very pleasant image, but it's something I want you to think about any time you feel your ladyparts tingling at anything that happens in that pile of shit that you're inevitably going to see with your stupid fucking friends.
Related: That book is shit and here's a post about shit and that book.
