I’ve decided to become a book critic, maybe even a movie critic, at least for a short time. Perhaps for just this one time only because the fact that I’m going to base my opinions solely on whether or not I like something instead of how much money they made, will be too much of a radical change to what you may be used to. It’s kind of like the price of gas and how the speculators determine what it will be. You know, if they’re running short of a little pocket change, they’ll bet the price of gas will be going up and, guess what?! The price of gas goes up! How convenient for them. I can’t recall any times that they speculate the price will go down. Then again, maybe they do which means that I just don’t know how that system really works. Which I really don’t. So, what I just did was state an opinion base solely on my dissatisfaction with the price of gas. But, you know what? When Diane and I lived in Italy from 1970-1973 the price of gas there during that time was over $3 a gallon. Now it’s about $10. That doesn’t mean what we’re paying is OK, but it kind of puts it in perspective.
Now, about being a critic …
I’ve read all the Twilight books, seen the movies, and took little note of how many zillions of $$$ they made for whoever gets that money. No one ever tells us that part. All they say is such and such movie grossed $15 gazzillion over the weekend. What does that really mean except that’s how much money theaters gathered from eager viewers to see whatever movie was playing? They, being the media, don’t mention how much it costs for any given theater for the rights to show that movie. So all the theaters combined, that were allowed to show the movie, grossed what amounts to the total worth of, say, Greece, but it’s just a number. It’s misleading. I want to know how much the 3rd Gaffer in the scene from Forks, Washington made that weekend. Or, the guy that really drove the Volvo to a squirreling stop in the Olde School parking lot in St. Helens to rescue Belle. That’s relevant data. There I go again, flying down one of the tangents that rule my life … sorry.
Twilight was about a young girl torn by her love for two totally different males. Throughout the story line she waffles back and forth between the two, finally choosing the one with the cold body.
Hunger Games is about a young girl torn by her love for two totally different males. Throughout the story line she waffles back and forth between the two, finally choosing the one … wait … have you read all three of these books, yet? Perhaps not. I’m almost done with book three and really don’t know how this part ends, so, in all honesty, the part of me you all know best, I cannot do anything except speculate beyond this point. But you get my drift, right?
The difference between the two is that in Twilight, Belle is a decent teenager forced to go live with wolves and vampires in Forks, Washington, while Hunger Games, Katniss is about a decent teenager who is forced to enter a fight to the death with 23 other folks, of various ages. I mean, how much more alike can they be? There are too many similarities, except for the death and dying in Hunger Games, to discount the possibility that they were authored by the same Apple discount store employee who is only allowed to work the night shift because no one wants to see him. Ever! So, he makes things up. First thing he makes up is to change his pen name gender from male to female, which is a really good move because the love scenes are more believable if the author is a woman. Coming from a guy author would lend one to believe he was a deviant, or a molester, or something.
So, where were we? I forget because I had to go out and look for the big black dog, Ziva. Apparently I let her and Panzee outside, when I put the cat out, and forgot. Panzee came right back, from the back yard, but Ziva is remaining incognito, running somewhere in the night in the surrounding neighborhoods. Hunting vampires. That’s what she does. So now, thanks to her, I’m in deep kimchi until she returns because I’m the one that turned the door knob. Like I can control her desire to stick around in the yard by standing on the deck with a tiny little flashlight. I admit, it seems to have worked in the past, but I don’t know how. It’s just a little thing. But, it’s really bright. Has LEDs instead of the other kind.
I’m sure everyone will be happy to learn that the ditch I dug worked like a charm during the last downpour we had. There was no standing water in the driveway like normal. It’s kinda nice and only makes me wonder why I didn’t do that a long time ago. Actually, it doesn’t make me wonder at all. That’s just something I hear often. From other people. No, that’s not true at all. I just think that’s what I’m “going” to hear from other people once they find out what a success my ditch was. Then, they’ll be wanting me to come over a dig ditches for them, even if they don’t need one.
It’s now 22:22, which means it’s late and, but the many twists and turns of the foregoing, evident that I should have quit about nine paragraphs ago. But, I have no control over how things in my brain are interpreted by my fingers. Sometimes I’m only vaguely aware that my keyboard is producing actual words. Most of the time I’m unconscious and everyone knows a person isn’t responsible for things that happen when they’re unconscious.
I mentioned that I would take a picture of the cat scratch but I don’t know where my camera is. Besides, it’s not as bad as I thought. Regarding the cat … we need a name. It’s got to have a “z” in it, an no more than two syllables. Any suggestions?