“Welcome To The Loser’s Club, Asshole!”

I’ve said this before, I know, but It is my very favorite Stephen King book. There are problems, of course (the scene, THE SCENE), but the novel will always and forever have a place in my heart. Likewise, The 1990 miniseries starring Tim Curry will also always have a place in my heart, for as I’ve described both here and here, it is an incredible four-hour mash-up of genuine creepiness and so-bad-its-good hilarity.

It was only natural that I would watch Andy Muschietti’s take on It, too.

Well. I definitely liked parts of it. Probably not a forever spot in my heart, though.

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Story Publication: Astronauts at DSF

Some writing news today: my story “Astronauts Can’t Touch You” is now available up at Daily Science Fiction. Fun fact: it’s the first story I’ve ever written that I feel would make for a decent music video.

Not gonna lie: I feel a little weird about this one, and not just because I’m an overly literal bastard who rarely writes stories that operate under Music Video Logic. As will likely become apparent to anyone who reads it, I wrote it very shortly after my father died in February, and while probably most of my stories are therapy stories in some way or another, I like to think that they’re not all quite so obvious as this one.

Still, I needed to write it, so I did. If you check it out, I hope you enjoy.

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“Our Big Foot’s Not Playing Games Anymore.”

Let me begin by telling you that Tom is a terrible person.

You may remember Tom, or you may not. I’ve mentioned him once or twice before on this blog. I used to think he was an okay sort of guy, maybe even a friend, despite the fact that he has all the absolute worst movie opinions. Recently, however, I’ve had to amend that statement. For Tom, you see, is the enemy, and I’ll tell you why: in a sudden, uncharacteristic, and unwanted fit of goodnatured-ness, I told Tom that I’d watch and review a movie for him, even that terrible Big Foot movie he was always talking about. He didn’t have to actually pick the Big Foot movie, mind you. He could have seen this as the charitable act of a co-worker and taken some small measure of mercy on me by picking literally anything else.

But of course, he did not do this. Instead, Tom bought Night of the Demon, had it gift-wrapped, and then sent it to my house. And last Friday, armed with neither nearly enough alcohol or sugar, Mekaela and I sat down and watched our early 80’s Big-Foot-Demon movie.

Damn you, Tom. Damn you to Hell.

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“Bulletproof. Blind Ninja. Whatever It Is You Are.”

So, I haven’t been here as regularly as I’d like to, and unfortunately that’s probably not gonna change anytime in the near future. I have Novel Writing Deadlines to meet, which means I’m instituting a hard rule for myself: no playing around on MGB until I’ve at least finished my weekly writing goal. Luckily, I’m doing pretty well on that right now, which means I get to talk about The Defenders. Which THANK GOD, cause y’all know I’ve got thoughts on The Defenders.

I’m gonna try to keep this brief, but let’s be real here. Brevity isn’t my strong suit, and we’ve definitely got some things to discuss.

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“Who Won, And What Was The F*cking Game Anyway?”

I’ve been super excited to see Atomic Blonde, ever since I first saw the trailer back in April. However, I couldn’t help but notice that there was like almost zero buzz about the movie after it initially came out, at least not on my social media. I figured that probably wasn’t a great sign, but I still wanted to check it out for myself, so Mek, Lindsey, and I all went to the movies last week to give it a shot.

Well. It’s got problems, all right. On the upside, Charlize Theron kicks some serious ass.

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Coming Soon-Ish: The Snowman (AKA, The Only Movie You Ever Need to See)

First, some backstory.

Last night, my friend, my sister, and I all went to the movies. We were there to see Atomic Blonde, which I’ll probably review next week; however, the true highlight of the night ended up being this trailer for The Snowman, a movie I’d never heard of before and now will never forget.

So, we begin with a woman walking by herself when, suddenly, a snowball hits her. She looks around, confused. Abruptly, we cut away to scary music and Michael Fassbender very seriously narrating about a murdered woman. Now, maybe I was already feeling a bit snarky because my friend and I both basically had the same reaction to that particular cut: what, was she killed with a snowball? Are we calling him the Snowball Killer or what? But I’m a sucker for murder mysteries and serial killer thrillers and Michael Fassbender’s manly jawline–well, I used to be, anyway but he’s so rarely in anything I’m interested in these days–so I shake off the silly start and prepare to give the trailer a fair shake . . .

And then Michael Fassbender, still in Serious Narration Mode, says, “He calls himself the Snowman Killer,” and oh my God, I totally lost it.

People. I was crying, I laughed so hard, and every time I tried to get my giggles under control, they’d have another ominous shot of a fucking snowman. (I’m not joking. There are at least three such Ominous Shots.) The worst, by far, is when the trailer cuts away from Intense Michael Fassbender saying, “He’s been watching us the whole time” to a snowman, situated just outside some window, seemingly stalking his prey. Mind you, I’m reasonably sure that this movie is a) not a comedy, and b) not centered around an actual snowman killer, but whoever cut this trailer did it so bizarrely that I’m actually not 100% certain. Which is a weird thing to say about a thriller starring people like Michael Fassbender, Rebecca Ferguson, J.K. Simmons, James D’arcy, Jamie Clayton, Toby Jones, Chloe Sevigny, and–according to IMDb–Val Kilmer. (Is it wrong to just automatically assume Kilmer’s the bad guy? Or maybe he’s the weird dude living in a cabin in the middle of the wilderness who Knows Something Important and later gets killed for it?) My point is, these are primarily well-respected actors, like, Oscar-respected. What the hell are they doing in Frosty’s Revenge?

It should also be noted that, when not focusing on ominous snowmen (new band name), this trailer works hard to look as generic as possible, like, here we’ve got The Lead Female sexily undressing as bait, and oh look, our masculine hero is out in the middle of nowhere, angrily yelling at a villain who, presumably, isn’t actually there. (I also inappropriately giggled through the bit where Michael Fassbender screams in anguish as he tries to break into a burning building. It’s just so overwrought.) I’ll admit, however, that most of this went unnoticed the first time I watched this trailer, since I was too busy wiping the tears from my eyes and, you know, trying to breathe.

Finally? Our masculine hero’s name, apparently, is Harry Hole. I mean, come on. How am I supposed to take that seriously? (To be fair, perhaps “Hole” is pronounced differently, as I see this is set in Norway, or at least the book it’s based on is. Still. I’m saying the name “Harry Hole” is not helping me subdue any of my juvenile giggles.)

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“John Wick, The Man, The Myth, The Legend. You’re Not Very Good At Retiring.”

I didn’t love John Wick the way other people did, but I enjoyed it well enough to Netflix the sequel. The verdict?

I liked it. Probably more than the first one, honestly.

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