How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
Post Reply
 
Thread Rating:
  • 0 Votes - 0 Average
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
02-06-2014, 03:29 PM
How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
No, wanted to. But this thread is reminding me of Peter Straub meta fiction.

“It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.”
― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
02-06-2014, 03:48 PM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
Oh goodness Mathilda that was hysterical!

The sun rises in the West and the bird shits on the coffeetable.


Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 1 user Likes Momsurroundedbyboys's post
02-06-2014, 03:53 PM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
(02-06-2014 03:48 PM)Momsurroundedbyboys Wrote:  Oh goodness Mathilda that was hysterical!

I think it has to my favourite video on youtube! I never get tired of watching it.
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 2 users Like Mathilda's post
02-06-2014, 07:44 PM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
(02-06-2014 06:30 AM)Vera Wrote:  PS. What does it say about me/you/the universe that when you mention dancing only thing I can picture is you waltzing? Consider

I think I only did that once. My granny tried to teach me. I was way too little.

Insufferable know-it-all.Einstein Certified Ancient Astronaut Theorist and Levitating Yogi, CAAT-LY.
Assistant Manager, Vice Detection, Whoville : Jebus no likey that which doth tickle thee unto thy nether regions.

Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
03-06-2014, 06:22 AM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
(02-06-2014 07:44 PM)Bucky Ball Wrote:  My granny tried to teach me. I was way too little.

Well, that's just precious Shy


Okay, last one, I swear. Ayn Rand's Harry Potter.

My favourite bits: "Snape stood at the front of the room, sort of Jewishly"

and

“Malfoy bought the whole team brand-new Nimbus Cleansweeps!” Ron said, like a poor person. “That’s not fair!”

“Everything that is possible is fair,” Harry reminded him gently. “If he is able to purchase better equipment, that is his right as an individual. How is Draco’s superior purchasing ability qualitatively different from my superior Snitch-catching ability?”

“I guess it isn’t,” Ron said crossly.

Harry laughed, cool and remote, like if a mountain were to laugh. “Someday you’ll understand, Ron.”


“You’re a wizard, Harry,” Hagrid said. “And you’re coming to Hogwarts.”

“What’s Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“It’s wizard school.”

“It’s not a public school, is it?”

“No, it’s privately run.”

“Good. Then I accept. Children are not the property of the state; everyone who wishes to do so has the right to offer educational goods or services at a fair market rate. Let us leave at once.”

***

“Malfoy bought the whole team brand-new Nimbus Cleansweeps!” Ron said, like a poor person. “That’s not fair!”

“Everything that is possible is fair,” Harry reminded him gently. “If he is able to purchase better equipment, that is his right as an individual. How is Draco’s superior purchasing ability qualitatively different from my superior Snitch-catching ability?”

“I guess it isn’t,” Ron said crossly.

Harry laughed, cool and remote, like if a mountain were to laugh. “Someday you’ll understand, Ron.”

***

Professor Snape stood at the front of the room, sort of Jewishly. “There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess, the predisposition…I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.”

Harry’s hand shot up.

“What is it, Potter?” Snape asked, irritated.

“What’s the value of these potions on the open market?”

“What?”

“Why are you teaching children how to make these valuable products for ourselves at a schoolteacher’s salary instead of creating products to meet modern demand?”

“You impertinent boy–”

“Conversely, what’s to stop me from selling these potions myself after you teach us how to master them?”

“I–”

“This is really more of a question for the Economics of Potion-Making, I guess. What time are econ lessons here?”

“We have no economics lessons in this school, you ridiculous boy.”

Harry Potter stood up bravely. “We do now. Come with me if you want to learn about market forces!”

The students poured into the hallway after him. They had a leader at last.

***

Harry and Ron stood before the Mirror of Erised. “My God,” Ron said. “Harry, it’s your dead parents.”

Harry’s eyes flicked momentarily over to the mirror. “So it is. This information is neither useful nor productive. Let us leave at once, to assist Hagrid in his noble enterprise of raising as many dragon eggs as he sees fit, in spite of our country’s unjust dragon-trading restrictions.”

“But it’s your parents, Harry,” Ron said. Ron never really got it.

Harry sighed. “The fundamental standard for all relationships is the trader principle, Ron.”

“I don’t understand,” Ron said.

“Of course you don’t,” said Harry affectionately. “This principle holds that we should interact with people on the basis of the values we can trade with them – values of all sorts, including common interests in art, sports or music, similar philosophical outlooks, political beliefs, sense of life, and more. Dead people have no value according to the trader principle.”

“But they gave birth to y–”

“I made myself, Ron,” Harry said firmly.

***

“Give me your wand, boy,” Voldemort hissed.

“I cannot do that. This wand represents my wealth, which is itself a tangible result of my achievements. Wealth is the product of man’s capacity to think,” Harry said bravely.

Voldemort gasped.

“There is a level of cowardice lower than that of the conformist: the fashionable non-conformist.”

Voldemort began to melt. Harry lit a cigarette, because he was the master of fire.

“The smallest minority on earth is the individual. Those who deny individual rights cannot claim to be defenders of minorities. The minimum wage is a tax on the successful. The market will naturally dictate the minimum wage without the government stepping in to determine arbitrary limits.”

Voldemort howled.

“I’m going to sell copies of my wand at an enormous markup,” Harry said, “and you can buy one like everyone else.”

Voldemort had been defeated.

“He hated us for our freedom,” Ron said.

“No, Ron,” Harry said. “He hated us for our free markets.”

Hermione ached with desire for the both of them to master her, but nobody paid her any attention. They had empires to build.

“Steal Dad’s Anglia to fly to Hogwarts?” Ron cried in astonishment. “Mum would never let us hear the end of it!”

“The question isn’t who is going to let me,” Harry said, already climbing into the driver’s seat and making an informed, personal decision about whether or not he chose to wear a seatbelt, “it’s who is going to stop me.”

***

“A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free…Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir…”

Harry stared. “Listen, Dobby,” he explained, patiently taking a knee. “Freedom, in a political context, has only one meaning: the absence of physical coercion. It does not mean freedom from the landlord, or freedom from the employer, or freedom from the laws of nature which do not provide men with automatic prosperity. It means freedom from the coercive power of the state, and nothing more.”

Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn’t spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

“Harry Potter is t-too good to Dobby, sir!”

“Listen,” Harry continued briskly, “because I’m only going to explain this once; I’m late for Model UN Club, which I’m protesting as fascism disguised as cooperation this afternoon. Knowledge, thinking, and rational action are properties of the what, Dobby?”

“The–the individual, sir,” Dobby whimpered.

“That’s right, Dobby. And since the choice to exercise his rational faculty or not depends on the individual, man’s survival requires that those who think be free of…”

“The interference of those who don’t, sir?” Dobby asked hopefully.

“Exactly,” said Harry. “Now, since wizards are neither omniscient nor infallible, they must be free to agree or disagree, to cooperate or to pursue their own independent course, each according to his own rational judgment. Freedom is the fundamental requirement of man’s mind. A rational mind does not work under compulsion; it does not subordinate its grasp of reality to anyone’s orders, directives, or controls; it does not sacrifice its knowledge, its view of the truth, to anyone’s opinions, threats, wishes, plans, or “welfare.” Such a mind may be hampered by others, it may be silenced, proscribed, imprisoned, or destroyed; it cannot be forced. Which means…” Harry prompted.

“Which means…a wand is not an argument, sir!” cried Dobby in amazement.

“You have been free this whole time,” Harry said. “Have a fiver.”

Dobby’s eyes glinted with the fire of an individual who has come to appreciate the value of money.

***

“I heard he’s the heir of Slytherin,” one of the girls whispered as Harry walked by. He stopped in the loose, effortless manner of a man who is at home in his own body.

“Excuse me,” Harry said coolly. “Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth, the man who would make his own fortune no matter where he started. If an heir is equal to his money, it serves him; if not, it destroys him.” He held his head in the manner of one who takes his beauty for granted, but knows that others do not.

***

“Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking! ‘It’s all right for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!’ But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!” He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead. “I know, I know — it’s not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it’s a start, Harry, it’s a start.”

“A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others,” Harry said from a davenport in the corner, half lying, sprawled limply like a kitten. It had often astonished Lockhart; he had seen Potter moving with the soundless tension, the control, the precision of a cat; he had seen him relaxed, like a cat, in shapeless ease, as if his body held no single solid bone.

“People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim,” Harry continued. “What I’ve learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one’s reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one’s master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person’s view requires to be faked…The man who lies to the world, is the world’s slave from then on. There are no white lies, there is only the blackest of destruction, and a white lie is the blackest of all.”

“I…” Gilderoy began.

“You have no I,” Harry said abruptly, and rose to leave. “You barely exist.”

***

“You see, that’s what I admire about you, Harry. You always know.”

“Drop the compliments, Hermione.”

“But I mean it. How do you always manage to decide?”

“How can you let others decide for you?”

“But you see, I’m not sure, Harry. I’m never sure of myself. I don’t know whether I’m as good as they all tell me I am. I wouldn’t admit that to anyone but you. I think it’s because you’re always so sure that I–”

“I didn’t know it before. But it’s because I’ve never believed in God.”

“Come on, talk sense.” Hermione twisted the emerald cuff on her thin wrist.

“Because I love this earth. That’s all I love. I don’t like the shape of things on this earth. I want to change them.”

“For whom?”

“For myself.”

“Kiss me, you fool,” Hermione cried.

Harry did, efficiently. “You don’t have to applaud,” he said. “I don’t expect it.”

***

“In a capitalist system…” Dobby began, falteringly. He shot a look of unswerving devotion to Harry. Harry was used to such looks, as a man who behaved as he wished and not as others did.

“…and according to the dictates of the market,” Harry prompted.

“…And according to the dictates of the market,” Dobby continued, drawing himself up to his full two feet, three inches and jabbing Mr. Malfoy directly in the shins, “Dobby is already an independent agent, and may offer his services at whatever price he deems fit to whatever consumer wishes to procure them! Dobby is a free elf under capitalism!”

Mr. Malfoy’s jaw gaped open, like the mystic and the irrationalist that he was.

It was funny, Draco remembered, at one time he had wanted to be an artist. It was his mother who had chosen a better field in which to exercise his talent for drawing. “Wizardry,” she had said, “is such a respectable profession. Besides, you meet the best people in it.” She had pushed him into his career, he had never known when or how.

It was funny, thought Draco, he had not remembered that youthful ambition of his for years. It’s funny that it should hurt him now — to remember. Well, this was the night to remember it — and to forget it forever.

Wizards, he thought, always made brilliant careers. And once on top, did they ever fail? Suddenly, he recalled Henry Cameron; caster of great spells twenty years ago; old drunkard with offices on some waterfront today. Draco shuddered.

“Dobby is an end unto himself!” the elf chuckled as he capered down the hallway. “Dobby is dedicated to his own values!”

“Cheer up,” Harry said to Draco. “Have a fiver.”

"E se non passa la tristezza con altri occhi la guarderò."
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 3 users Like Vera's post
03-06-2014, 07:26 AM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
(03-06-2014 06:22 AM)Vera Wrote:  
(02-06-2014 07:44 PM)Bucky Ball Wrote:  My granny tried to teach me. I was way too little.

Well, that's just precious Shy


Okay, last one, I swear. Ayn Rand's Harry Potter.

My favourite bits: "Snape stood at the front of the room, sort of Jewishly"

and

“Malfoy bought the whole team brand-new Nimbus Cleansweeps!” Ron said, like a poor person. “That’s not fair!”

“Everything that is possible is fair,” Harry reminded him gently. “If he is able to purchase better equipment, that is his right as an individual. How is Draco’s superior purchasing ability qualitatively different from my superior Snitch-catching ability?”

“I guess it isn’t,” Ron said crossly.

Harry laughed, cool and remote, like if a mountain were to laugh. “Someday you’ll understand, Ron.”


“You’re a wizard, Harry,” Hagrid said. “And you’re coming to Hogwarts.”

“What’s Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“It’s wizard school.”

“It’s not a public school, is it?”

“No, it’s privately run.”

“Good. Then I accept. Children are not the property of the state; everyone who wishes to do so has the right to offer educational goods or services at a fair market rate. Let us leave at once.”

***

“Malfoy bought the whole team brand-new Nimbus Cleansweeps!” Ron said, like a poor person. “That’s not fair!”

“Everything that is possible is fair,” Harry reminded him gently. “If he is able to purchase better equipment, that is his right as an individual. How is Draco’s superior purchasing ability qualitatively different from my superior Snitch-catching ability?”

“I guess it isn’t,” Ron said crossly.

Harry laughed, cool and remote, like if a mountain were to laugh. “Someday you’ll understand, Ron.”

***

Professor Snape stood at the front of the room, sort of Jewishly. “There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess, the predisposition…I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.”

Harry’s hand shot up.

“What is it, Potter?” Snape asked, irritated.

“What’s the value of these potions on the open market?”

“What?”

“Why are you teaching children how to make these valuable products for ourselves at a schoolteacher’s salary instead of creating products to meet modern demand?”

“You impertinent boy–”

“Conversely, what’s to stop me from selling these potions myself after you teach us how to master them?”

“I–”

“This is really more of a question for the Economics of Potion-Making, I guess. What time are econ lessons here?”

“We have no economics lessons in this school, you ridiculous boy.”

Harry Potter stood up bravely. “We do now. Come with me if you want to learn about market forces!”

The students poured into the hallway after him. They had a leader at last.

***

Harry and Ron stood before the Mirror of Erised. “My God,” Ron said. “Harry, it’s your dead parents.”

Harry’s eyes flicked momentarily over to the mirror. “So it is. This information is neither useful nor productive. Let us leave at once, to assist Hagrid in his noble enterprise of raising as many dragon eggs as he sees fit, in spite of our country’s unjust dragon-trading restrictions.”

“But it’s your parents, Harry,” Ron said. Ron never really got it.

Harry sighed. “The fundamental standard for all relationships is the trader principle, Ron.”

“I don’t understand,” Ron said.

“Of course you don’t,” said Harry affectionately. “This principle holds that we should interact with people on the basis of the values we can trade with them – values of all sorts, including common interests in art, sports or music, similar philosophical outlooks, political beliefs, sense of life, and more. Dead people have no value according to the trader principle.”

“But they gave birth to y–”

“I made myself, Ron,” Harry said firmly.

***

“Give me your wand, boy,” Voldemort hissed.

“I cannot do that. This wand represents my wealth, which is itself a tangible result of my achievements. Wealth is the product of man’s capacity to think,” Harry said bravely.

Voldemort gasped.

“There is a level of cowardice lower than that of the conformist: the fashionable non-conformist.”

Voldemort began to melt. Harry lit a cigarette, because he was the master of fire.

“The smallest minority on earth is the individual. Those who deny individual rights cannot claim to be defenders of minorities. The minimum wage is a tax on the successful. The market will naturally dictate the minimum wage without the government stepping in to determine arbitrary limits.”

Voldemort howled.

“I’m going to sell copies of my wand at an enormous markup,” Harry said, “and you can buy one like everyone else.”

Voldemort had been defeated.

“He hated us for our freedom,” Ron said.

“No, Ron,” Harry said. “He hated us for our free markets.”

Hermione ached with desire for the both of them to master her, but nobody paid her any attention. They had empires to build.

“Steal Dad’s Anglia to fly to Hogwarts?” Ron cried in astonishment. “Mum would never let us hear the end of it!”

“The question isn’t who is going to let me,” Harry said, already climbing into the driver’s seat and making an informed, personal decision about whether or not he chose to wear a seatbelt, “it’s who is going to stop me.”

***

“A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free…Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir…”

Harry stared. “Listen, Dobby,” he explained, patiently taking a knee. “Freedom, in a political context, has only one meaning: the absence of physical coercion. It does not mean freedom from the landlord, or freedom from the employer, or freedom from the laws of nature which do not provide men with automatic prosperity. It means freedom from the coercive power of the state, and nothing more.”

Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn’t spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

“Harry Potter is t-too good to Dobby, sir!”

“Listen,” Harry continued briskly, “because I’m only going to explain this once; I’m late for Model UN Club, which I’m protesting as fascism disguised as cooperation this afternoon. Knowledge, thinking, and rational action are properties of the what, Dobby?”

“The–the individual, sir,” Dobby whimpered.

“That’s right, Dobby. And since the choice to exercise his rational faculty or not depends on the individual, man’s survival requires that those who think be free of…”

“The interference of those who don’t, sir?” Dobby asked hopefully.

“Exactly,” said Harry. “Now, since wizards are neither omniscient nor infallible, they must be free to agree or disagree, to cooperate or to pursue their own independent course, each according to his own rational judgment. Freedom is the fundamental requirement of man’s mind. A rational mind does not work under compulsion; it does not subordinate its grasp of reality to anyone’s orders, directives, or controls; it does not sacrifice its knowledge, its view of the truth, to anyone’s opinions, threats, wishes, plans, or “welfare.” Such a mind may be hampered by others, it may be silenced, proscribed, imprisoned, or destroyed; it cannot be forced. Which means…” Harry prompted.

“Which means…a wand is not an argument, sir!” cried Dobby in amazement.

“You have been free this whole time,” Harry said. “Have a fiver.”

Dobby’s eyes glinted with the fire of an individual who has come to appreciate the value of money.

***

“I heard he’s the heir of Slytherin,” one of the girls whispered as Harry walked by. He stopped in the loose, effortless manner of a man who is at home in his own body.

“Excuse me,” Harry said coolly. “Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth, the man who would make his own fortune no matter where he started. If an heir is equal to his money, it serves him; if not, it destroys him.” He held his head in the manner of one who takes his beauty for granted, but knows that others do not.

***

“Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking! ‘It’s all right for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!’ But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!” He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead. “I know, I know — it’s not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it’s a start, Harry, it’s a start.”

“A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others,” Harry said from a davenport in the corner, half lying, sprawled limply like a kitten. It had often astonished Lockhart; he had seen Potter moving with the soundless tension, the control, the precision of a cat; he had seen him relaxed, like a cat, in shapeless ease, as if his body held no single solid bone.

“People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim,” Harry continued. “What I’ve learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one’s reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one’s master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person’s view requires to be faked…The man who lies to the world, is the world’s slave from then on. There are no white lies, there is only the blackest of destruction, and a white lie is the blackest of all.”

“I…” Gilderoy began.

“You have no I,” Harry said abruptly, and rose to leave. “You barely exist.”

***

“You see, that’s what I admire about you, Harry. You always know.”

“Drop the compliments, Hermione.”

“But I mean it. How do you always manage to decide?”

“How can you let others decide for you?”

“But you see, I’m not sure, Harry. I’m never sure of myself. I don’t know whether I’m as good as they all tell me I am. I wouldn’t admit that to anyone but you. I think it’s because you’re always so sure that I–”

“I didn’t know it before. But it’s because I’ve never believed in God.”

“Come on, talk sense.” Hermione twisted the emerald cuff on her thin wrist.

“Because I love this earth. That’s all I love. I don’t like the shape of things on this earth. I want to change them.”

“For whom?”

“For myself.”

“Kiss me, you fool,” Hermione cried.

Harry did, efficiently. “You don’t have to applaud,” he said. “I don’t expect it.”

***

“In a capitalist system…” Dobby began, falteringly. He shot a look of unswerving devotion to Harry. Harry was used to such looks, as a man who behaved as he wished and not as others did.

“…and according to the dictates of the market,” Harry prompted.

“…And according to the dictates of the market,” Dobby continued, drawing himself up to his full two feet, three inches and jabbing Mr. Malfoy directly in the shins, “Dobby is already an independent agent, and may offer his services at whatever price he deems fit to whatever consumer wishes to procure them! Dobby is a free elf under capitalism!”

Mr. Malfoy’s jaw gaped open, like the mystic and the irrationalist that he was.

It was funny, Draco remembered, at one time he had wanted to be an artist. It was his mother who had chosen a better field in which to exercise his talent for drawing. “Wizardry,” she had said, “is such a respectable profession. Besides, you meet the best people in it.” She had pushed him into his career, he had never known when or how.

It was funny, thought Draco, he had not remembered that youthful ambition of his for years. It’s funny that it should hurt him now — to remember. Well, this was the night to remember it — and to forget it forever.

Wizards, he thought, always made brilliant careers. And once on top, did they ever fail? Suddenly, he recalled Henry Cameron; caster of great spells twenty years ago; old drunkard with offices on some waterfront today. Draco shuddered.

“Dobby is an end unto himself!” the elf chuckled as he capered down the hallway. “Dobby is dedicated to his own values!”

“Cheer up,” Harry said to Draco. “Have a fiver.”

Gah the stupid it burns.

(31-07-2014 04:37 PM)Luminon Wrote:  America is full of guns, but they're useless, because nobody has the courage to shoot an IRS agent in self-defense
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 1 user Likes Revenant77x's post
03-06-2014, 07:49 AM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
I once did one of those online tests which compared you to something totally arbitrary. I can't remember the theme of the test but I was told that I was channelling the spirit of Ayn Rand. I have no idea why, it's not like I'm particularly right wing.
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
03-06-2014, 10:02 AM
Re: RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
(02-06-2014 03:07 PM)Caveman Wrote:  Anyone ever watch Stranger than Fiction?

Yeah that came to my mind. If you hear a british lady in your head, you may be in a novel.

I could think of some that apply to English authors, mainly Neil Gaiman.

Are you conservative in your life decisions, well tough luck the first 3/4ths of your time will be you complaining things are different.

Are you in a well to do relationship? Yeah.. Rethink that.

Remember those fairy tails your father/friend told you, those are real.

"Allow there to be a spectrum in all that you see" - Neil Degrasse Tyson
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
19-12-2014, 05:15 AM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
Mathilda, I feel your pain. Ayn Rand, indeed! [Image: desismileys_6850.gif]

And because that creature can never be mocked too much, here she is, reviewing kiddie movies.Below are some of my favourites (though I'm afraid should Tartarus see the Garfield one he might become a Randian and that'd be rather sad Rolleyes )

“The Little Mermaid”
A young woman achieves all of her goals. She finds an object of value—in this case, a broad-chested brunet man—and sacrifices as much as she believes necessary (the ocean, talking, etc.) in order to acquire him. —Four stars.

"Garfield"
"I liked this movie. Cats are inherently valuable animals. It makes sense that there should be a movie about a cat. I could demonstrate the objective value of a cat, if I wanted to. —Four stars.

"Bambi”
The biggest and the strongest are the fittest to rule. This is the way things have always been. —Four stars.

“Old Yeller”
A farm animal ceases to be useful and is disposed of humanely. A valuable lesson for children. —Four stars.

“Toy Story”
At last, a full-length feature about the inherent value of possessions. —Four stars.

"Up”
A man refuses to sell his home to serve the convenience of others, which is his right as an American citizen. He meets a dog, which neither finds food for him nor protects him from danger. He would have been better off with a cat. There are no cats in this movie. —Two stars.

“101 Dalmatians”
A wealthy woman attempts to do her impoverished school friend Anita a favor by purchasing some of her many dogs and putting them to sensible use. Her generosity is repulsed at every turn, and Anita foolishly and irresponsibly begins acquiring even more animals, none of which are used to make a practical winter coat. Altruism is pointless. So are dogs. A cat is a far more sensible pet. A cat is objectively valuable. —No stars.

“Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory”
An excellent movie. The obviously unfit individuals are winnowed out through a series of entrepreneurial tests and, in the end, an enterprising young boy receives a factory. I believe more movies should be made about enterprising young boys who are given factories. —Three and a half stars. (Half a star off for the grandparents, who are sponging off the labor of Charlie and his mother. If Grandpa Joe can dance, Grandpa Joe can work.)

“How The Grinch Stole Christmas”
Taxation is also a form of theft. In a truly free society, citizens should pay only as much as they are willing for the services they require. —Three stars.

“Charlotte’s Web”
A farmer allows sentimental drawings by a bug to prevail over economic necessity and refuses to value his prize pig, Wilbur, by processing and selling him on the open market. Presumably, the pig still dies eventually, only without profiting his owners. The farmer’s daughter, Fern, learns nothing except how to become an unsuccessful farmer. There is a rat in this movie. I quite liked the rat. He knew how to extract value from his environment. —Two stars.

"E se non passa la tristezza con altri occhi la guarderò."
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 1 user Likes Vera's post
19-12-2014, 10:17 PM
RE: How to tell if you're in a ....... novel
James Fenimore Cooper novel.

1. The story accomplishes nothing and arrives in air.

2. The chapters have no rightful place in the work, since there was nothing for them to develop.

3. Characters in the story should be alive, except in the case of corpses, and that always the reader shall be able to tell the corpses from the others.

4. Characters in the story, both dead and alive, fail to exhibit a sufficient excuse for being there.

5. It would benefit Cooper to make the dialogue sound like human speech, and be such as human beings would be likely to talk in the given circumstances, and have a discoverable meaning, also a discoverable purpose, and a show of relevancy, and remain in the neighborhood of the subject at hand, and be interesting to the reader, and help out the story, and stop when the people cannot think of anything more to say.

6. The conduct and conversation of a character doesn’t justify said description.

7. When a character speaks like an illustrated, gilt-edged, tree-calf, hand-tooled, seven- dollar Friendship’s Offering in the beginning of a paragraph and a negro minstrel by the end of it.

8. Crass stupidities are played upon the reader such as “the craft of the woodsman, the delicate art of the forest," by either the author or the people in the story.

9. Characters in the story don’t confine themselves to actual possibilities but miracles as well.

10. The reader dislikes the good people in the story, is indifferent to the others, and wishes they would all get drowned together.

11. Characters are poorly defined and the reader cannot tell beforehand what each will do in a given emergency.

12. Fails to say what he is proposing to say, instead merely comes near it.

13. Fails to use the right word, instead uses its second cousin.

14. Unecessary surplusage.

15. Omits necessary details.

16. Slovenliness of form.

17. Poor grammar.

18. Convoluted style.

http://twain.lib.virginia.edu/projects/r...fense.html

*I’ve taken great liberties to rewrite Twain’s masterpiece of literary criticism to make the post somewhat fit the OP. Blush

"Ocean: A body of water occupying about two-thirds of a world made for man - who has no gills.” ~ Ambrose Bierce
“I am quite sure now that often, very often, in matters concerning religion and politics a man's reasoning powers are not above the monkey's." - Mark Twain in Eruption
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
Post Reply
Forum Jump: