An Exercise in Vomit

29 12 2014

People, in general, are fucking morons. If this were not the case, then we would not be seeing yet another Nicholas Sparks novel turned into a fucking movie. This makes me absolutely livid. I realize that I can simply choose to not see said movie, much like I choose to not read his emotional drivel novels, however, I am simply offended that so many of them merely exist. That they share space on this planet with me. This…this makes me so irate that I practically see red.  We are talking Salieri from Amadeus levels of sheer hate here. Roiling waves of anger are flooding off of me even now. Nicholas Sparks is the Emperor of the Daleks in my twisted little mind. Someone needs to incinerate him before he makes an army of soul-crushing films and novels that takes over the world…he’s already got a good start too!

Fuck him in his rusty pie hole with a filthy hatchet!

I just spent a few moments online and found some quotes from a USA Today article about him.

“I write in a genre that was not defined by me. The examples were not set out by me. They were set out 2,000 years ago by Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. They were called the Greek tragedies. A thriller is supposed to thrill. A horror novel is supposed to scare you. A mystery is supposed to keep you turning the pages, guessing ‘whodunit?’

“A romance novel is supposed to make you escape into a fantasy of romance. What is the purpose of what I do? These are love stories. They went from (Greek tragedies), to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, then Jane Austen did it, put a new human twist on it. Hemingway did it with A Farewell to Arms.”

” Sparks pulls the one beside it off the shelf. “A Farewell to Arms, by Hemingway. Good stuff. That’s what I write,” he says, putting it back. “That’s what I write.”

That’s right. He fucking compares himself to fucking Shakespere. He can seriously go fuck himself.




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