Two things:

(1) Just time to plug this one:

Title: “A Week With No Hunt”
Rating: Rated K+
Summary:
Dean’s bored, Sam’s trying to find a gig. A very, very short bit of fun before I go nuts with Writer’s Block.
Posted first (as always) at SPNVille.net.

Disclaimer:
I do not own the TV show ‘Supernatural’ either in whole or in part, but I wish I could write episodes full time. Or get a life. Or both.
Linky-link-link:

(2) And I’m off to the ‘Supernatural’ convention. Have to go to Hong Kong Station right now to check my bags in, in fact. So as I can go to work, finish at 7pm, and then go straight off to the airport. Marvellous!

Singing:
“Hot fudge, here comes the judge, there’s a green card in the way! The Holy Ghost and the whole East Coast is movin’ to LA! We been dreaming of this feeling since 2008 - oh yeah, things have gotta change - I’m going to LA ~ to stroke me some Winchester!!’

Tags:
fan-fic ~ SPN ~ convention

I’ve started so I’ll finish

Danger! Danger! Spoilers Will Robinson!
Supernatural season 4 episode 16 spoilers are contained in the following post!

Haven’t done an episode review / moan / squeee post for ‘Supernatural’ in a good long while, so this will be my thoughts on episode 4x16: 'On The Head Of A Pin'.

First, yay for having Anna back on the scene, and for her being kick-ass enough to take out Junkless. Not that I didn’t like Uriel in a love-to-hate-him kind of way, but he was ganking angels who Just Said No to his idea of mutiny, and that’s naughty. It’s also another problem purr wee Castiel will have to deal with: Uriel was only disposing of the angels that refused his plans for… whatever it was. So what will the other mutinying angels do without their ringleader? Band together and cause more problems in the murky background? Or release their own record and hope for a spot on the top 100 billboard chart?

Sam. I could slap him for willingly going for Ruby’s help and, yes, blood. Is this human blood from her dead female host? Or demon blood to make Sam stronger? One thing’s for sure, it ent Iron Bru and Ruby’s got him right where she wants him. Oh Sam - how did you go from Stanford hopeful to Destroyer Of Alastair? What would Jessica think of you now? Or are you so far removed from what used to be that even if she popped down from (probably) Heaven, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid? Oh Sam ‘delusions of grandeur’ Winchester - look where you are. Look down at the very thin ice under you. You’re telling Dean that the normal rules of right and wrong and the normal world no longer apply to you Winchesters - do you see what you said there? You’re telling Ruby - RUBY, for fuck’s sake! - that you think Dean’s lost it and will never be any use to anyone again. How dare you discuss this outside the family? How dare you presume to know how Dean will come back from his complete personal disaster?

And Dean. So he finds out he’s the reason the first seal broke, that it should have been John, but he held out against torture for 100 years. And then Dean came along and cracked in just 30. Alastair was right: a part of Dean is still stuck in the Pit and will never escape. But the rest of him’s out here, and his sense of family with him, and two out of three ain’t bad.

But Dean - I could slap you, too. Blubbing like a girl cos you find out you kicked off the race to set off the apocalypse! And in front of Castiel, of all beings! Purr wee lamb’s having enough of a crisis of faith without you crying over your feelings of inadequacy and inferiority! Telling him it’s all too big and you can’t help him, to get someone else cos you’re not the man either John or his father wanted - what were you thinking? Were you thinking, even?


We’ll put it all down to you being in a hospital bed and strapped into drips, medication and breathing machines, Dean. Add to that the shock of the biggest revelation since you found out Durex was nowt at all to do with Pyrex, and you have reason to panic and revert to the foetal position. But Castiel’s right, Dean - you started it, and you can bloody well finish it. Sort your life out, quit the blubbing and ‘woe is me’ act, get your shit together and start hunting Lilith down with Castiel. It’s the only way you’ll get closure or in fact any shred of self respect. I would say ‘get self respect back’, but we all know you haven’t had any since you were about 25, don’t we?

Oh, and while you’re at it, knife Ruby finally - IF that’s who she really is. I reckon she’s Lucifer, imprisoned as if she’s some regular demon. Not seeing a lot of demon power since she “escaped” from Hell, are we? Driving a car, fighting hand to hand, leading Sam down the dark path paved with good intentions? Yup, Lucifer imprisoned. And Sam’s going to unwittingly stumble about unable to stop seals breaking and therefore set her free, then go head to head with Lilith and win with Lucifer’s help, then get squashed like a bug when he’s finished providing gladiatorial entertainment.

Unless Dean kills him first. He’s had enough warning, and I’m sorry, but I’m kind of with John’s 10:41 a.m. death warning about this: John Winchester apparently told Dean that if he couldn’t save him, he’d have to kill him. John 10:41 (some Bible thing) has this to say: ‘And many resorted unto him, and said, John did no miracle: but all things that John spoke of this man were true.’

I say come in number seven, your time’s up. And here’s why.

Isn’t it a shame that we’re so far from those innocent days of father-hunting and bone-burning of season one? When Dean could silence Sam with a dirty look and over-rule him roughshod? Now he has no more sway over him than he does the wind. Oh dearie dearie me. Shit is going to hit the fan big time - and I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: that phrase only applies cos several herds of cows will be roped into contributing and the fan will be a forty-two foot alt-azimuth dish with telescopic blades.

Interesting that Castiel was at Dean’s hospital bedside upon his waking up - and that his first words were a concerned “You alright?” Where was Sam? And what’s going to happen when Anna pops up to say hello to Dean in hospital? Or will Castiel ask her to visit in an effort to help Dean get his game head back on?

So where does this leave us? Dean is a biscuit away from his second emotional / mental breakdown (I’m guessing there was one in Hell), Sam is just a black shiny helmet and red lightsabre away from fulfilling his destiny, and Castiel is a dry-cleaning shop away from trading that rumpled Columbo mac for a Grace-lift that leaves him human. So Dean is the only one who can finish this, the only one who can stop Lilith. He’s going to need Sam’s demon powers on his side, but something tells me Sam’s not going to be in the mood to share: he’s already mentioned a few times that he considers Dean too weak to help him. Fine. It pains me to say it, but a wee bit of breathing room would do them both good. Dean’s already intimated he feels like a fifth wheel as far as helping Sam goes, and since they’re both still pretending what they said in front of the siren wasn’t true, it’s obvious Dean’s given up trying to control, persuade or perhaps even look out for Sam. There’s a tiny crack here, and it’s only going to wedge further open under stresses to come.

But while Castiel’s gravitating toward Dean and Sam’s busy boinking and munching on Ruby, let’s not forget what happened last week: Pamela.

Sorry Boys, but there’s no excuse for this bit - she died spitting insults, cursing Bobby and everyone and everything, and you two chuckleheads just BURIED her? I’m sorry, was “proper vengeful spirit material” written on her forehead in invisible ink? Cos I sure as Hell saw it! You didn’t do the decent thing and salt n’ burn her? Then you deserve all you get for that one!

I was enjoying a bit of Evil!Dean as he was having a go at Alastair - but he didn’t get a chance to finish! He wasn’t enjoying it as much as he should have, neither - I think being up in the cold, dank air Topside makes torturing or carving people up much less fun. Now, if Dean could have been allowed to take Alastair back Downstairs to The Pit, praps things would have been different…

I liked everything about this episode - apart from The Boys now apparently separated by emotional walls so thick they’re going to need battering rams. I mean, how is Dean going to look Sam in the eye ever again? Is this the end of Team Winchester? I mean, they’ve had tantrums and thrown their toys out of the pram before, but this is some serious shit. I guess we’ll have to wait and see!

Oh, hang on - I can’t get my usual feed of the new episode next week - cos I’ll be in LA at the SPN convention! I’m telling you now, if I can’t get The CW channel in my Marriott hotel room, there’s literally going to be Hell to pay…

Peach and lube, everyone!

Tags:
Supernatural ~ Dean Winchester ~ Sam Winchester ~ Jensen Ackles ~ Jared Padalecki ~ Castiel ~ Misha Collins

You remind me of the babe~

What babe?
The babe with the power!
What power?
The power of voodoo.
Hoodoo?
You do!
What?
Remind me of the babe!

Yes, that was me and my ee-vil laugh (like fru-its of the dev-il), cos (1) I managed to get my arse out of bed and make my hair appointment this morning, and now my hair at least looks cooler than a very cool thing on a cool day, and (2) Granny W may have gone home (*sob, sniff, wail, bawl!*) but she left behind many, many shiny things. The first being:


Aw, ain’t he cute? Doesn’t he just make you want to snag a piece of hair from that annoying little shit of a student and wrap it round his wee body, before stabbing him in the heart a few times? No? Oh, just me then.

So I’m ready for my LA holiday next Wednesday - BRING IT!

Soopytwist!

Tags:
voodoo

Watchmen: Reviewed

I feel betrayed. I feel dirty. I feel violated and ashamed. Why? Cos I saw Watchmen Thursday night, that’s fucking why.

Woah woah woah, back up. Yes, this will be a film review. Yes, in my long-forgotten tradition, I will attempt to sum the film up in three words. And those words shall be:

Betrayed
Like everyone else I saw the trailer, got excited, made the decision to buy the goddamn tickets. It’s nobody’s fault but mine. Like many people, I failed to pick up on the one hyowj question that would have settled the ticket buying decision before I went in: Why was the trailer was all swishy-swishy fab SFX, ultra-hip moments of character posturing, cool Smashing Pumpkins music, the barest snippets of impossibly cool dialogue and no actual indication as to the plot? It was of course due to the fact that Mr Plot appeared so briefly he could have been listed as an extra. In fact, Mr Plot could have phoned in his bits of the film from the coffee shop down’t road from the sodding sound stage and no-one would have been the wiser.

I’m not saying there weren’t any plot to it, obviously. I’m saying it was a positively anorexic reason to have the characters onscreen. I’ve seen more plot in a Wong Kar Wai movie.

And another thing: how disappointed was I with the whole Stargate Manoeuvre? When you see the trailer and think it’s going to be fab cos of the concept - and then you actually see the film and they’ve wasted a perfect opportunity to create something seminal, something of a landmark, something 2001-ish (or at least Evil Dead II or Chronicles Of Riddick-ish). I feel betrayed. The film was ok to watch - and with the mighty Jeffrey Dean Morgan using Ee-vil Sneer Number One to extra crunchy effect, there were definite moments of fabness. But it wasn’t all it could be.

Atmosphere
Loved the darkness (have I given up givin’ a fuck?). Loved the typical rain-washed, pseudo-Bladerunner-ish, possible modern Gotham City-ness to it all. Liked the Sin City-type angle of doom, of good people turning nasty, knowing they’re fighting for a world that ultimately is a piece o’ shite. Loved it.

And I loved the Sarah Jane Confronts Life Without Doctor Ten moments, where you see the ex-masked avengers had to hang up their spandex and assimilate into the real world. The whole “you have to deal with what comes next - or rather, what doesn’t come next. You get a taste of all that splendour and then it’s all taken away” thing. Nicely done - and it was the main draw of the film, I suppose. But really, mate, that shouldn’t have been all it was about, angst-wise.

Violated
I’ve often bemoaned the common phenomenon of men being physically unable to meet a girl’s eyes if she has a low-cut top on. I’m sure many other girls have too. It’s not really a bad thing - in fact, it’s a nice little reminder that, even if you are a boring, personality-challenged twat of an unattractive female, you can still get your rack ogled with impunity. It’s kind of comforting, really. So imagine my discomfort, my shock, my horror and appalled mortification as I found that I myself am no better than Rack Oglers of the lowest order.

I blame the Blue Man. Dr John Manhattan, to be precise. I understand his character was moving away from all that is human and thinking of himself as a god, as something unattached to whatever makes people people, and whatever it is that keeps them interacting with others. I understand that he was losing touch with the human concept of reality and all the usual human ideas of what’s right and wrong. But really, dude, did you have to walk around totally nekkid, swinging your blueness around like you didn’t care if it took some poor bugger’s eye out?

I had the hardest time concentrating on what anyone was saying while he was in shot. Seriously. It was like a car crash. I couldn’t look away. My eyes were watering. It stung. My severely damaged ocular friends had been Bad-Touched by the blue man, and it would take HOURS of careful and appropriately themed good porn therapy to remove the Wrongness (and we’re talking several dirty bag of carrots on the That’s Just Not Right-O-Meter, folks). Yes, men walking round Tackle-Out will always be a draw, and yes, girls will always look (and point. And laugh. And remind themselves why Calvin Klein does such a roaring trade in undercrackers that manage to make just about anything look like there’s summat un-ugly hidden beneath the wrapper). But it’s just blue! It’s just wrong! Was this a metaphor? Just cos it’s blue, doesn’t make it right! And what in the present continuous fucking hell was with the rating? So you get rated for ‘disturbing battle scenes’ in Saving Private Ryan, and ‘disturbing fantasy violence’ in Lord Of The Rings. What do we get for Watchmen, ‘disturbing scenes involving a giant blue cock with no party friends attached’?

It’s just not right. Let the bird get her baps out, fine. It’s expected, it’s what gets bums on seats. But the blue man? Really? Now, if it had been someone NOT blue or screw-loose and fancy-free, then it would have been a draw. It would have been a bonus and might even have saved me from giving this such a slating. But no. Just cos it’s blue, doesn’t make it right.

I did get the ending, and the whole ‘doing the wrong thing for the right reasons might be just as bad as doing the right thing for the wrong reasons’ argument. I did, I got it. But a few things detracted from my enjoyment of what should have been a well-crafted commentary on the modern need for heroes or how times change, shit happens, and everyone has to go home after the party eventually. I frequently found myself bored with the little flash-backs or squeezed-in back stories. I didn’t really care about the girl boinking Manhattan and then What’s His Tit the Owl (although I did like him and was rooting for him). When she has her little epiphany and realises her connection to other characters, doing her Luke Skywalker Collapses Under Truth scene, I just kind of shrugged and reached for the popcorn. Sorry. Just not feeling it there, love.

What I was feeling was upset the mighty Jeffrey Dean Morgan had to die - again. I mean, fuck me, does he ever survive any film or series he starts? I move to start the ‘Save JDM’s Onscreen Characters From Messy and Unfair Deaths’ campaign.



There, that’s all there is to it. I’m feeling a little better now, but I still feel betrayed. It should have been cool. It should have been ace. It should have been everything I wanted from a washed-up-superheroes-getting-on-with-their-lives-but-getting-pulled-back-in-cos-you-can-never-really-get-out-for-good movie. It wasn’t. It was partly pants, partly Jeffrey Dean Morgan. And that’s pretty much it.

Gotta go. Granny W wants to go shopping, and she leaves tomorrow.

Soopytwist, everyone. Except Dr Manhattan.

Tags:
Watchmen ~ Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Me

What makes you you? Is it your homeland, the place you were born? The red brick? The shitty weather (that builds character)? The cars, the graffiti, the mills (Rose!), the air, the food, the family, the long/lat?

Or (D) - all of the above?

Don’t rightly know. But I do know, it ent where I am now. But that’s just transient, as with every other aspect of me life. After all, just cos I take home a bloke fert one-night-stand (hey, now, it were fert third time in history, so fuck off, in a I-just-want-to-do-what-everyone-else-does kinda way) dunt mean I’m any less made o’ moral fibre than your cunts. Right? Yer just jealous you don’t do it too.

Anyway, it’s been a busy week. Granny W gets in, just 36 hours from now, and I ent got requisite vodka in yet, so unless I do ont way home tomorrow night, I’m lookin’ at a ruddy good kickin’ (no, not a ‘rudy big pig walked down my street’ in a Smash Hits! Rick Astley kinda way - yeah, cos I’m old enough to remember Reg ‘Reg’ Snipton etc.).

What was I saying? Oh yeah, apart from having to go see to my mate as knows what’s fuckin’ what, that shallot. Onion. Thing. Whatever.


Do you every worry that yer dad ent proud of you? That you still have stuff to accomplish as an adult? I do have a weeny-assed, really tiny like Chinese New Year's competition: me and Writer Mate have to try and get a fiction story book type thing published before (or at least in negotiation) before Chinese New Year 2010. Yeah? Well pucker up, buttercup, cos I got me a doozy of an original story half-finished. All I have to do now is finish it and pitch it to some big-ass publisher like Titan. Easy.

Soopytwist, everyone!

“Caffeine Vodka helps me program!"

Tags:
~ Manchester ~ Oldham ~ Smash Hits ~ publish a novel