I’m still pissed off I didn’t get an iPad for Christmas. What are some things you wanted for Christmas that your parents didn’t get you because they were bastards?

There were three things I consistently asked for Christmas when I was growing up: a good book, a pony and a cape. I got plenty of books, I even got a cape, but my dream of a pony has always eluded me.

Recently, I was issued a challenge while out for beers. That is, my friends were drinking beer and I was feeling brave and had Wild Turkey. That evening did not end well for me, and subsequently, I forgot the details of the challenge that I had been issued. All I knew was that I was hung over and had something to prove. And the challenge had to do with ponies and literature. Game on.

So below are the opening sections of some of my favorite novels, which have been mildly edited to include ponies. Yes, this is sacrilege. The real question is, was the challenge met successfully? Was this even the original challenge? Did it even have anything to do with ponies?!

Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser

When the pony boarded the afternoon train for Chicago, her total outfit consisted of a small trunk, a bridle, a small lunch in a paper box and a yellow leather snap purse, containing her ticket, a scrap of paper with her sister’s address in Van Buren Street, and a small pistol.

The pony, who happened to be clairvoyant, sat down next to the perturbed eighteen year old Caroline Meeber and looked directly into her eyes and said, “In a few moments, a frisky salesman named Charlie Drouet will introduce himself to you and thus will begin a series of events that will involve you becoming a kept woman by two separate men, years of internal emotional debate until you finally break free of their control and become a successful Broadway actress. I say cut to the chase! Take this pistol and rob him and thrive!”

Caroline Meeber nodded and prepared herself as Charlie Drouet waltzed onto the train.

Poor Things by Alasdair Gray

Like most farm workers in those days, my mother distrusted ponies. When death drew near she told me her life-savings were in a tin trunk under the bed and muttered, “Take it and count it.”

But it turned out that the ponies had a hand in my predicaments. I went to medical school only to find that the system was corrupt: practicing on the poor in order to aid the rich. Then, I befriended Godwin Baxter, a good but ugly man. He introduced me to his Frankenstein-esque creation, Bella, a drowned woman resurrected with the brain of her unborn child. I was intrigued, on the verge of love, and then discovered she was into pony play. That’s when things got pretty spicy.

Veronica by Mary Gaitskill

When I was a young girl, my mother read me a story about a wicked little pony. She did not believe in the power of friendship or rainbows. And while she was selfish and horded all of her delicious apples for herself, she grew into a sturdy mare and was then sent off to the glue factory. It made me and my sisters sad, but we were bratty anyway.

Now I’m a 50 year old ex-model turned cleaning lady with Hepatitis C. And my flamboyant friend, Veronica, is dead. But I feel better for having learned the lessons that terrible little pony taught me.

The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton

Lawrence Selden paused in surprise. In the early rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Barton. She was sitting aloft a magnificent golden pony, holding her parasol in a threatening manner. She did not look amused.

As he approached, his mind poured into a river of really deep thoughts – like how he loved and she loved him, but that the pressures of high society demanded she marry above her own station and how this would ultimately cause her scandal, degrade her and end with her suicide. While he considered this, Lily’s pony galloped forward and she struck him on the head with her parasol and Selden fell down dead.

“Let us ride, Princess Butterscotch,” Lily said, stroking the pony’s mane. “We are off to avenge my reputation before it is even sullied!”

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in the world haven’t had the advantages you’ve had.”

Of course, I later realized that the Great Gatsby’s money had come from his network of pony servants who ran illegal bootlegs during Prohibition. The ponies had made him rich, and the ponies worked hard. And when the ponies worked hard, they got drunk. And when they got drunk, shit went down. It was only then I realized that social status was nothing but an equestrian metaphor!

Philosophy in the Boudoir by the Marquis de Sade

First Dialogue

Madame de Saint-Ange: Oh dear brother, let us discuss our scandalous bisexual affairs in such perverse manner that it will incite the French government to execute our author!

The Chevalier: Have you ever seen a horse’s cock?! It’s huge!!

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

I just saw Tallafornia. Any suggests on what I can watch now in order to avoid night terrors?
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Two things you should know about me. #1 – I love British television series, especially historical dramas. #2 – I have an unhealthy infatuation with evil bitchy women in power. So this would explain why I have Period Piece Mondays every week with Eileen!

Now, for those of you who are not familiar with my love of Mr. Ray Stevenson, then might I recommend you check out Eileen’s June 2011 post? Yes, Ray was the star and most essential character in HBO’s series, Rome, which I have promptly renamed, The Titus Pullo Extravaganza of Brutal Hotness™. This was a genre defining series in which Ray slaughtered a few people, drank some wine, got naked, got around to slaughtering some more, had a fight with stupid Lucius Vorenus over something inane, walked around shirtless, and then had sloppy seconds with a lot of people. Oh yeah, and there was some political stuff and some dude got murdered on the senate floor. And that’s it. Yes, there were internet rumors about a movie and even a third season, but I am satisfied with my experience. Sure, Ray doesn’t call or answer my letters, but I think ours was a good romance. And now it’s done and I wouldn’t want to sully its memory.

Anyways Eileen and my latest foray into Period Piece Mondays is I, Claudius. The BBC miniseries debuted in the 1970’s, but literally takes off as the ideal predecessor to Rome.

Which brings me to the new object of my affections, Livia:

Evilus Bitchus

Technically, this series should have been named: How Livia Poisoned Everybody and Stole Jonathan’s Heart. Seriously, this woman is all shades of bad ass. From episode one, she stood there looking all regal and insidious. She also hold the greatest death toll in the early part of the series, single-handedly wiping out all other heirs to the throne to ensure Tiberius’s rule. In my wildest fantasies, Livia and I are stopping in at the gay bar and then this happens:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TsUThgpC_rg

Which leads me to my new version of fantasy football … fantasy death matches between Livia and other historical figures.

Livia vs. Alexander the Great

She poisons him. She wins.

Livia vs. Napoleon

She stares down at him in disgust. He realizes he is poisoned. She wins.

Livia vs. Cobra Commander

He bites her. He dies. She wins.

Livia vs. Julia Childs

Julia works all day to prepare this lovely goose dinner with a red wine reduction. Then, Livia suggests Julia try her stuffed figs. Livia wins.

Livia, I love you. Call me. We’ll meet in the Underworld and gossip over pomegranate martinis.

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

The Muffin Muncher: Now here’s a dragon that knows what he wants and if you’re bluffin’ with your muffin, he just take some liberties and munch on it without your permission.  Now, remember the Azure Bond book?  Heroine Alias did have a draconian side-kick and this might actually have been his origin story.  Thankfully, Alias’s slutmail came with a girdle of munch-blocking.

The Rifleman:

“Beware the outlaws, son.  Winter is coming and they want nothing more than to get their hands on our wood.”

“Oh no, Pa! What we do?”

“Well, we can hide it where they would never think to look…”

?!

Satan was a Lesbian: Traveling through time in her U-haul of the Apocalypse, the lesbian devil was sent on a mission to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that her next leap would be the leap home.  This involved a dangerous fight with Jerry Orbach over the honor of a scantily clad blonde.

Pools of Darkness: The Hot Tub of Mood Lighting was already taken.

Matters of the Heart:
“Don’t lose heart,” he told her. “I may want to cut it out later.  And I would like to avoid a lengthy search.”
Cecile clasped her hands like a bishop, all serious and chaste-like.
“Oh, George!  You must say that to all the girls.”
“Yes.”

Nothing says good old fashion Danielle-Steele-Romance like a shadowy man stalking you into the sunset.  That is unless you’ve read the Twilight series.

Fingers of Fear:
Apparently some poltergeists are total perverts.  On the cover, beautiful Gray Ormesby is fleeing for her life to her local Nordstrom to buy a pair of pants.  I believe they released a fully illustrated version of this – with pop ups!

Castle Greyskull Under Attack: He-Man fights the transvestite tentacle monster – until they realize that together, there’s nothing that they couldn’t do.  Not even the Sorceress could have predicted this one.

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

With the Lion King being so big at the box office, I’ve become sort of nostalgic for my childhood years. What films or books were you reading as a kid?

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“And upon waking up from her great slumber did Alias, which was really her name and not a teaser, discovered that she had no memories of the night before and the twisted designs of azure-colored tattoos on her sword arm. Also, she did notice that her breasts were quite perkier than ever before.”

Or so, this is what I imagined. Azure Bonds was one of those books that I desperately wanted to read when I was younger. It was during my adolescent foray into the whole D&D game that, years later, required lots of therapy and gay clubs to get out of my system. The novel follows a well-endowed battle maiden named Alias. Yes, that really is her name – kind of suspicious, no? She is also pictured in the cover art as wearing +1 slut mail and holding a broad sword. *groan*

Anyway, Alias wakes up one morning with a terrible hangover and several glowing tattoos on her arm. Apparently, Girls Gone Wild has a fantasy-based predecessor. So, she puts on her slut mail and goes out to buy some Vaseline (for the new tattoos, perverts!) and soon discovered that the magical tattoos actually control her actions. Thus begins her epic quest to find the source of the tattoos, acquires a few friends, beat up some bad guys, all while airing out those sweater cows of hers.

But wait! – there’s a plot twist or two. This is an amnesia story after all. Alias realizes she can’t remember anything because she’s actually a Frankenstein-type creature brought to life by said tattoo artists to do their evil bidding. I think it had something to do with the resurrection of an evil god of fungus who wanted to spread his moldy influence of evil over the Forgotten Realms, or something like that. Anyway, Alias never gets a name, never fully covers her +3 Boobs of Perkiness and with the help of her entourage, defeats her masters, gets rid of her tattoos and saves the day. (And I believe in the sequel, the defeated Fungi Priestess retires and gets her own HGTV show for eco-friendly home guides.)

In case you couldn’t tell, I never actually read this book. I was about ten years old. My mother took one look at the cover and decided it was inappropriate reading material. There was also an accompanying computer game, “Curse of the Azure Bonds,” with the same cover art and so when my father, not knowing any better, bought it for me, a terrible scene followed. I couldn’t understand what the fuss was about – all I wanted to do was create my little pixel characters and move them across the scene and have them click-fight against evil monsters. (This is old school Apple 2C technology, baby!) My mother kept confiscating the game and my father kept giving it back to me. And by the time she relented, I had become so bored with playing the first few parts repeatedly, I didn’t even finish. Besides, by that time I was 11 and I had moved onto other interests. Thankfully, The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy didn’t have risqué covers. Heh,heh,heh.

So, yeah, The Lion King wasn’t for me. Too much Elton John, not enough oddly placed chain mail. That reminds me, I have to go write another fan letter to Anne Rice. She needs to quit writing Jesus books and write a fourth book for The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy. I’ve already got a working title for her: “Beauty Puts On Some Pants.”

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

I’m a slave to fashion, and I like your beard. I’d like some tips on the latest looks and trends.

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Well, take one look at me and know that I am not one for fashion. I’m of the “drawstring pants over flip flops look” and tend to show up at fancy restaurants in a hoodie jacket and shorts. But, when you work for a university, you can’t help but see fashion trends all over the place. Everywhere, young college freshmen are boldly defining the season’s new trends. Here are a few choice looks, but don’t thank me, thank the young and impudent.

For the ladies:

1. The “Flirty Thong (in the Rain)” Look

Now, this is a circumstantial summer look because it requires the most underutilized fashion element ever: water. And with the dangerous summer heat, water should be a good thing, yes? Well, not always.

The flirty thong was invented by one young and naive college freshmen, strutting her thin white skirt in pouring rain. But her thong was fabulous. I know because it was playing peek-a-boo through the sashaying movements of her pelvis. And when you’ve got underwear fancier than everyone’s church clothes, people should know it.

2. The “Is it a Sweater or a Dress?” Look

You know how there’s that sweater dress at the mall that you really-really want, because it’s a sweater that goes down to just above your knees and has these cute buttons and it only costs like $180 and is dry clean only?

Well Hilda did. (I don’t really know what her name is, but she totally had that hairstyle that looks like a baguette was coiled around her forehead and the demeanor of someone who had grown up on homespun-mountain-girl-wisdom, so I think the name fits.) Anyway, Hilda was totally aware of the fabled dress, but goat herders don’t have a lot of money. However, they do tend to have a lot of sweaters! So there she was, waltzing down in this sweater and knee-high boots looking fabulous and I gave her a look and thought, “Something is missing.” Well, then I thought of the thong girl and was like, “Oh dear. She is definitely not bluffin’ with her muffin.”

The big question: was Hilda cold? Only her upper thighs could tell.

3. The “Poncho” Look

A long time ago, when the world was young, Sally Field played the Flying Nun on TV. And then the rest of us forgot all about it until a few months ago when a gaggle of girls were wearing these strange mounds of fabric and were trying to take flight. They were not successful, but they looked so trendy.

And for boys:

1. The “Nylon Shorts” Look

They’re young, morose, waifish and many of them constantly dress like they’re at the gym. Everyday, I find myself surrounded by young men walking around in nylon work-out shorts. The real fashion item here – are their penises. Because you’d think it would be smart to wear underwear or a jock or something.

But no, just a bunch of dudes waltzing around in thin little shorts, just flapping away without a care in the world. Was that some tent pole action I just saw? The breeze will get you every time!

2. The “I-Forgot-How-Collars-Work” Look

So, a few weeks ago, I was running around like crazy and stumbled upon four young metro-sexuals who were all about five feet tall and had curly hair and glasses and all wearing pastel-colored polos. Hmph. It looked like four hobbit boys had left the comforts of the Shire to go open an American Apparel store together.

As trendy as they were, for some strange reason, all of them had their collars flipped up. I’ll never understand why people do this. It wasn’t cute in the 80’s and it’s even more ridiculous now. But then, who’s going to challenge a small quad of dangerous hipster boys with attitudes? So, I guess it’s fashionable to look like a tool. But if I had a pair of scissors, I would have done something about it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GA27aQZCQMk

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

You seem righteous and well-read. What’s your opinion on the whole “de-funding Planned Parenthood” debacle that was playing out in the news recently?

On April 15th, 2011, the Washington Post’s Opinion Section had a fantastic article by Clare Coleman in regards to the five myths about Planned Parenthood. This was in response to Tea Partier Michelle Bachman’s statement about Planned Parenthood trying to be the LensCrafters of abortion. After you get past the incredibly offensive statement, Bachman has a simple argument: she thinks Planned Parenthood shouldn’t get government funding or be tax exempt. Now in my opinion, if you think the term “sexual health” is potty language, then you shouldn’t be making decisions that affect the rest of us. Also, Bachmann’s statement told me nothing about the issue at hand. It was a cheap insult that wasn’t even funny. However, the article explained very precisely what Planned Parenthood does and the consequences of it disappearing.

Yes, if you want to know what’s going on in the world, you have to pay attention and listen carefully to the people you disagree with. Yes, some people cheapen real discussion with insults and profane comparisons instead of actually discussing the issues. Yes, it is stressful and scary to hear what some people have to say.

So, if you’re going to have to hear political crazy, you might as well enjoy it with fun claymation:

"Unless government appropriately regulates oil developments and holds oil executives accountable, the public will not trust them to drill, baby, drill. And we must!" - Sarah Palin

So she says, while mushing her little omelet. But I’m curious – what kind of omelet is she making? Are those mushrooms or sausage? And is that scared little girl the next ingredient?!

"So here you have Barack Obama going in and spending the money on embryonic stem cell research. ... Eugenics. In case you don't know what Eugenics led us to: the Final Solution. A master race! A perfect person. ... The stuff that we are facing is absolutely frightening." - Glenn Beck

It certainly is frightening. Which head is saying this? Are they in agreement? And is this what happens when your parents are brother and sister?

"The exact phrase 'separation of Church and State' came out of Adolph Hitler's mouth, that's where it comes from. So the next time your liberal friends talk about the separation of Church and State, ask them why they're Nazis." - Glen Urquhart

When you’re sad, Gumby makes you glad with all the things he can do!

Like, remember how he was always fighting against the evil Blockheads? And the Blockheads were all like, “We’re bad-ass and gonna cause trouble,” and then they would kidnap Pokey! Yeah, that was great stuff.

"Carbon dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn’t even one study that can be produced that shows that carbon dioxide is a harmful gas." – Michelle Bachmann.

Is it just me or does she look like she’s about to rip one?

"The first thing that has to be done is secure the border ... East Germany was very, very able to reduce the flow. Now, obviously, other things were involved. We have the capacity to, as a great nation, secure the border. If East Germany could, we could." —Alaska GOP Senate candidate Joe Miller

Well aren’t you just adorable! Oh cutie, what are guarding those Alaskan borders from? Eskimos? That’s precious. Isn’t he just the sternest and toughest and most downright menacing monster you ever met? I wonder what would happen if I tickled him?

"American scientific companies are cross-breeding humans and animals and coming up with mice with fully functioning human brains." – Christine O’Donnell

It must be witchcraft. And, rumor has it, they are also learning how to make necrophilia look sexy … ugh, I can’t believe I just said that.

“We're gonna have our 7th child on Monday, if he's not born before. And, for the very concerns you state, we're actually considering – as I'm sure many of you here didn't get a Social Security number when you were born, they do it now – we're considering not doing that. And a lot of people are considering that now, because it is being used to track you.” – Ken Cuccinelli

Conspiracy theorists look so much better when they smile and have adorable puppies with them.

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

I’m getting married in two months and my fiancee’s mother is driving me crazy! He suggests we both lay low, but there must be something I can do to make this more bearable. Help?

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Hooray! Gay wedding season! But, here’s the one problem with achievements in gay equality and gay marriage – you now are required to have the wedding. They’re beautiful, sentimental and a big ball of stress. My husband and I did it a few years ago and its meaningfulness was written all over my face… in wrinkles. *sigh*

So, here are the quick easy steps:

1. Set a date and a flexible budget.
2. Decide on location.
3. Assemble guest list to determine food/music/ceremony.
4. Delineate responsibilities to minions … errr … friends.
5. Inform your mother…
6. Acknowledge that all the previous hard work will now be scrapped as your mother undergoes her evil transformation into Momzilla…

Ever mother’s conundrum over her gay son’s wedding: am I the mother of a bride or groom? If it’s a groom, she gets to stand proud and admire from a distance. But, if this can be somehow twisted into the former, then she gets to plan a wedding.

The Momzilla of a queer wedding is very similar to her mainstream counter-part, but may have more unique and deadly matricidal powers. These beasts are tough and have high armor classes and are resistant to most known attacks. Identifying what type of Momzilla you are dealing with is essential before proceeding.

The Catholic Momzilla:

Whether you like it or not, this is going to be a church wedding. Perhaps not the family neighborhood church you were subjected to growing up, but sure enough, there’s an Episcopal church someplace nearby and a “proper” officiate. You might not have wanted Jesus on the guest list (and let’s face it, all that stigmata is going to make a real mess when the hors d’oeuvres get passed around), but if she’s gonna be there, so will He. Oh yes, and the Catholic Momzilla breathes fire, too.

How to combat: Try replacing her sacramental wine with Nyquil and make sure speeches are only done by active AA members.

The PFLAG Momzilla:

A long time ago, when the earth was young, the PFLAG Mothers arrived from distant shores on rainbow painted boats with unicorn steeds. Their overprotective instincts have made them fierce combatants, armed with razor sharp tiaras, streamers and more penis paraphernalia than a Jersey-Girl bachelorette party.

How to combat: The natural predator of PFLAG parents are traditional settings. If she was hoping for a choir of female impersonators to serenade your walk down the aisle, insist on the tone-deaf organist.

The Momzilla of Denial:

These great masters of illusion are able to literally recreate reality into their own vision. And traditional values are key to their motives. No matter what, the happy couple will be dressed in the standard wedding dress and tuxedo.

How to combat: Hold a cross-dressing reception. Chances are your new brother-in-laws are going to enjoy showing up as mail-order brides. Oh, and your old high school girlfriend Momzilla had thought perfect for you … well, she’ll look just dashing with that glued on mustache.

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

I’m just gonna come out and say it: I hate Disney films.

Now, I’m willing to admit that I might hate them for the wrong reasons. This has nothing to do with all the onslaught of straight-to-DVD films. It also has nothing to do with the weird copyright lawsuits and the over-commercialization. Sure I questioned the logic of “Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue” and kind of hoped it took place in a gay piano bar on the rough side of Palm Springs, but whatever. Individual crap movies don’t affect my life in any real terrible way.

So, why do I hate Disney and their films so much? At the risk of coming across as a bitter old man (which I totally am), I really can’t stand all the sentimental bullshit. I feel uncomfortable during gushy moments and get embarrassed for movie characters, even the animated ones, during those awkward heart-felt scenes.

What I find interesting is that people are actually appalled when they discover this about me. I’m sorry everybody, but I really don’t care for children, I think Valentine’s Day is dumb and I have multiple reasons why I hate Disney films:

1. Not everyone can be special or unique. When you wish upon a star, I guarantee you that nobody is listening.

2. I do not believe in the power of youth. No matter how pure of heart they are, children will not defeat the sea witch, dragon, evil wizard, etc.

3. Youth does not give you the ability to communicate with animals. There I said it! And that naked kid from “The Jungle Book” should have been eaten within the first five minutes and spared our childhood from unrealistic expectations.

4. Orphan pickpockets and headstrong 16-year-old princesses do not make good adventuring duos. Just no. It doesn’t work. I’m sorry.

5. 16-year-old princess do not marry the first singing hero who rescues them. Though I’m pretty sure there is such a thing as Disney contraceptives, otherwise there would be a plethora of Disney-teenage pregnancy sequels.

6. Communal song and dance routines do not work out unless they were rehearsed ahead of time. Now, I have no problem with people randomly singing in public – but I am not going to join in. Chances are, I don’t know the lyrics and I’m too lazy to pick up the dance moves on the spot.

7. Under no circumstance will animals sing and dance in unison. Remember when you thought that sweet Doberman was trying to play with your pet bunny, and you thought how cute they looked and how they would make sweet music together and be best of friends … boy do you feel foolish now.

8. If a dragon’s egg hatches, it is more likely to eat you than be your friend. Enough said.

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Got a question? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

So, for those of you who are not familiar with slash fiction, this is erotic fan fiction with a man-on-man angle. And I kind of missed the whole slash phenomenon, though I had some friends were big fanatics about it. My friend, Meredith, was a big slash writer. Her primary focus was on comic book superheroes and must have come up with a hundred different scenarios in which Batman had to go poking and prodding in Robin’s utility belt.

However, one thing Meredith commented on was how youth oriented slash fiction has become. Apparently, the slash forums have completely turned over to Harry Potter and the Twilight series. Not only are the storylines all repetitive, but the actual characters are disturbingly underage. This whole Harry Potter getting turned into a Chinese finger trap between Snape and Dumbledore has got to stop.

The Defenestration Crew is on Team Please Just Stop.

Anyway, since I’ve arrived perhaps too late to make any real contributions to the slash genre, I have compiled a short list of possibilities for slash fiction aimed at a more mature audience:

Twin Peaks

Genre: Supernatural Murder Mystery

Sexy Pairing: Agent Dale Cooper and Sheriff Harry Truman

Sexy Location: The Black Lodge, inter-dimensional space with doppelgangers and red curtains.

There is something suspiciously sexy about the building relationship between FBI Agent Cooper and the small town Sheriff Truman throughout two seasons of trying to solve the murder of Laura Palmer and trying to uncover the secrets of the Black Lodge. This pairing had Bromance written all over it from the start. And let’s face it, neither of them are particularly lucky with the ladies – Truman’s main squeeze, Josie, turns out to be a murderous femme fatale and Cooper’s only legal-aged prospect was ex-nun turned Black Lodge captive, Annie. It only makes sense that these two would turn to each other for a little comfort.

Excerpt: “That’s one damn fine cup of coffee … oops!” Cooper exclaimed, as the cup tumbled onto the sheriff’s lap. Their eyes met as Truman slid his pants off. “This is for you, Laura.”

Predator

Genre: Sci-Fi Shoot ‘em Up

Sexy Pairing: Arnold Schwarzenegger and the Predator.

Sexy Location: a canopy of trees in the South American jungle of turmoil.

For real, there some awful machismo worth exploiting here. I recently rewatched this movie and found the premise to already have an underlying slash tone to it: several big burly beefcakes are being stalked through the jungle, half of which end up losing their shirts to reveal muscular hairless chests. And the ending showdown…Arnold coats himself with mud and even the Predator himself is stripping off his armor to reveal his impeccable out-of-this-world six pack abs. It makes you kind of wonder if this whole epic hunting thing was just a way of determining who was going to be the bottom.

Excerpt:

Predator: *RAWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!*
Ahnald Schwartzenegger: “That turns me on.”

Kitchen Nightmares

Genre: Food and Sadomasochism

Sexy Pairing: Gordon Ramsay and random chefs.

Sexy Location: Kitchen

First of all, Gordon Ramsay proves that you don’t have to be relatively good looking nor have a nice personality to be sexy. I mean, abusive men aren’t sexy, but seriously…some poor amateur chef screws up his soufflé and all I can think is, “Oh no, here’s where Ramsay’s gonna pull the poor lad over his knee and beat him with a ladle!”

Excerpt:

“Gordon turned, his sensual beet red face a majestic magenta. His gaze ran down the line of his chefs, who trembled from fear, desire, or a shellfish allergy. Suddenly, he was in front of handsome and talented Chef Marcus, who longed to lick the spittle from Gordon’s chin.

Gordon held up a pot of beef bourguignon, but Marcus longed for a different injection of hot beef.

‘See this, Marcus?’ Gordon whispered. ‘I’m going to make you swallow it. I’m going to make you swallow it all.’

Marcus nodded, then got down to business.”

Holmes on Homes

Genre: Home Renovation

Sexy pairing: Mike Holmes and me.

Sexy location: My House

And let me just say, ever since I got my house I’ve been sending S.O.S calls to HGTV non-stop. I’ve got some serious structural issues that I’m quite sure only Mr. Holmes can take care of.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XMaMrpibt4

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Got a question your friend won’t answer because of that pesky restraining order? Send it to jonathandefenestrates@gmail.com!

It just so happens that this cross-genre revolution is making more and more opportunities to bridge those gaps of interest between friends and lovers. She likes social-norms challenging literature with a feminist perspective and he has put in over 60 playing hours of assassinating evil masterminds in the latest Splinter Cell video game. So, it makes perfect sense that the latest game to not get picked up by Xbox or PlayStation would be:

She's motherfuckin' Oates!

Joyce Carol Oates: The First Person Shooter

Now, for those of you not familiar with the most prolific writer in the world, author of them, We Were the Mulvaneys, The Wheel of Love and Other Stories, Zombie, Beasts, Blonde and about a trillion other works, then go to a fucking bookstore, idiot. Otherwise, you’re ready to play…

As you can probably tell, as a first-person shooter the game is as straight forward as Dean Koontz (otherwise known as the Mad Libs of the literary world). The game relies on the familiar trope of the player character acting as a one non-gender-specific army, fighting his/her way through the typical legions of zombies, Nazi soldiers, aliens or mutants. In this case, the source of all evil just happens to be the cryogenically-frozen (and misogynistic) head of Hemingway gaining sentience and using his evil powers to convert every beer guzzling dude into a member of the Tea Party.

Hemingway must be stopped!

The game opens at Princeton University, where Joyce Carol Oates, who unleashes her own evil powers, makes a student’s head explode after turning in a story with too many point of view. As she leaves class, she quickly learns that decades of pumping out a new brilliant novel or short story collection every six months has left her unaware of growing evil that threatens person-kind.

Combat has that simple “point, aim and fire” mechanism that seems to work pretty well. Along the way, Joyce will find plenty of weapons, from pistols and rifles and submachine guns (oh my!). And adding to the lovely tradition of nonsensical shooter games, even some of the most disfigured non-pants wearing monstrosities always drop extra bullets and health kits.

However, Joyce’s fighting skills aren’t limited just to the random guns and gadgets lying about. Not sure where to stash that AK-47 you’re not using? The size of Joyce’s bloomers will determine how many extra items you can store. While coffee is particularly damaging to this heroine, Earl Gray tea will not only give a quick boost to speed, but will also makes a soothing sipping sound upon ingestion.

Also, throughout Joyce’s travels, she can uncover important books of other lady scholars, allowing her to summon them briefly for a massive area attack. Ever want to see cute plump little anarchism writer Emma Goldman whack a double-headed Marquis de Sade with a sledge hammer? I thought so.

Overall, JCO: the First Person Shooter will be one hell of an experience that you and your boyfriend will probably not get to play. And where’s all the literary feminism you ask? Ummm … it’s fucking Joyce Carol Oates.

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