Here’s some goofy shit that doesn’t quite qualify as art, but does qualify as my desperately appealing for your praise, attention, and scorn — I’ll take scorn. Please.
Part 1 in a potentially endless series of what every text conversation would look like between the male and female leads in every single film by Jean-Luc Godard.
I don’t usually faun over a Goosebumps…and I’ll continue to keep not doing that in this case. I don’t have a weak stomach, but this latest entry in adult-oriented Goosebumps really tried my intestinal fortitude. R.L. Stine’s account of a mentally handicapped pig farmer who falls in love with his prize piggy is really light on one kind of squeal and really heavy in another way less appealing and squeal. I’ll just say this: if they don’t have a PETA in Belgium, then they really need a PETA in Belgium.
Another in a series of adult-themed Goosebumps. This one was pretty sedate for the first 30 pages, then by page 31 it went from “oh, that’s probably an adult film” to “oh, I might be on an Interpol watchlist now.” I’d recommend it to anyone who likes Serbian YA fiction and Brazzers.
One of my favorite series. A real time saver. These stories were part of the Nancy Drew Mysteries, but because of a miscommunication with printers in the UK, the titles were literally the denouement of each mystery. Spoiled before you got past the cover, they proved a great way for the literate-but-lazy among us to pretend to be hip to the Nancy Drew craze, which was like, a hundred years ago.