Does this mission travel to Uranus?

27 Apr

I have so much cat hair on my laptop I feel like I should wear an appliqued sweatshirt and stirrup pants. That said, I’m neglecting you all because I’ve been as corny as Kansas in August. Which means I have less time to cozy up with my friend Absolut and unintentionally funny books. Mommy Dearest needs her fun, too, darling children. (And no more wire hangers while we’re on the subject.) Today I give you what can only be described as an attempt at making sci fi more accessible but comes off as the Ice Capades presented by a freshman art student with homely friends in 1980. Oh, but before we begin, you can all read peacefully knowing that Bret Michael’s toupee is in stable condition.

...by way of 69 Uranus Street, overlooking the Castro

(Joke stolen from my friend John Bruton but I don’t feel bad since I cleaned his toilet over the weekend which I did to keep The Gays happy so they’ll give me babies when I’m 40 and still alone and childless and getting back-alley Botox.)

What sucks about this tease of a book is that you THINK you might be on a literary journey, all set to satisfy your space-geekiness or impress the president of the Chess Club with your knowledge of our solar system’s best accessorized planet (those moons, yo), but instead of something all National Geographic-y (who can hum the NG theme song? Go!), you get the following. Just a warning: glued-on sequins and bad PhotoShop. And I think there’s supposed to be a narrative, but I haven’t figured that part out yet.

Looking into the future when feathered hair finally dies...until hipsters bring it back 30 years later.

Hey, yo : when you decide to take mega-close-ups of your sexually-ambiguous friends for your arty picture book, slap some foundation on that mug. For those of you who read this regularly, don’t you think this is sorta a Terry BergerMelvin Berger mash-up happening here? Like you halfway expect some dramatically-lit child of divorce to start boring you to death with lectures on supercomputers? (Yeah, all three of you people rock. Gold stars for you. Can you also tell me when this blog started getting more Drunk and less Angry-College-Girl-Taking-Revisiting-World-History-With-A-Feminist-Bent-At-Oberlin?)

Dear  Jack Hamilton: I am guessing you support yourself by taking pictures for the Newport News catalog or at the Akron-area Sears Portrait Studio. Hence when you landed this plum job taking pictures for a thrilling teen book with a confusing story about going to Jupiter, you let it cloud whatever better judgement you had. It’s like when your mom discovers the shadow font feature in Word and then you get homemade computer birthday cards with backlit font and Office clip art. The result is neither pretty nor semi-professional. It’s just sad and lonely, like your mom struggling to type your 38th birthday card because she really can’t type well and you’re divorced and considering joining a synagogue to find a damn date.

This looks like they ran it off on a mimeograph machine.

Oh I LOVE when someone is described as speaking “polite but cool.” We so know what that means, people. It means she’ll be forced to have her icy exterior melted by Will later, most likely prompted by him saving her life or something else demeaning and cliched.

And, when was “Radames Orestes” emperor of Rome, please?

And I totally love when things are explained to me in clear, boring detail so that I don’t have to think.

A rich emotional tapestry.

So I’m  guessing by his prominent brow and placement in this collage that looks like something I did in high school because I wore black and listened to The Cure that the dude in front is going to be our villian. I am totally hoping he gets redeemed by his love for Polite But Cool. Maybe he’ll be the one who saves her life and so confusion about with which Lame-Ass Boy she should be ensues. Word of advice: never date a boy who looks like he spends more time on his hair than you. Trust me.

"So, when did you join Marching Band?"

May I please draw your attention to the strips of sequins glued on their cadet uniform? You know, to give it that realistic flavor so you’ll believe a bunch of tools sitting around a card table with styrofoam cups are for true on a space ship. I have some misgivings about the financing of this so-called space mission. If they’re going to dress you like the Show Choir, you might reconsider their ability to help you travel safely through space. And they use styrofoam on a spaceship? Man, even 1970s PBS adaptations of science fiction novels are better appointed than this.

In my mind,they’re trading tips on which brush gives you the best feather.

Here's a stupid way to learn!

Gotta love a book for teens that uses phrases like “while lecturing on such matters.” And I love the total fakey I-took-an-Astronomy-class-in-college “Space Dynamics Lab.” Also, these people are supposed to be cadets on some important, albeit unclear mission and they need simple astronomy lessons?

(Also, Morrisey will be read from now as “Morrissey.”)

He is thinking really hard about simple 4th grade science or trying to figure out if he can fart inconspicuously.

So since I am not actually interested in which characters are which, I am assuming this is “Rad” thinking about how to respond to the question “Where is the Sun?” that Morrissey just asked him. Unless Morrissey asked “how soon is now?” instead because he is a tricky morose and brooding space commander bastard that way.

Of course the girl stumbles and has to be caught. I just wanted to point that out. It's not funny. Just notice it. Okay?

“Trapped in the vortex of the wind!” is the poem I wrote my sophomore year of college when I was in love with my high school English teacher’s ex-boyfriend and he was all using me (you know, for good conversation and making-out) but I was convinced he just needed a Girl Like Me (self-righteous, combat boots, Tori Amos-listening and convinced of her own self-awareness because she read Anais Nin) to help unleash his heart that was clearly aching to feel love. But I was like, totally feeling trapped like in the vortex of the wind which really means nothing except I couldn’t see what an Asshole he really was(/is? Probably.) Which reminds me, who the hell misses their twenties? They sucked worse than middle school. And notice how you can’t tell what’s true about this example? Because maybe it was high school and I wrote it because I was so misunderstood.

By the way, please record yourself reading that last line in a dirty voice and email me.  I’m pretty sure the author stole this from that awesome one-paragraph sex scene in “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” (I love you people nodding right now; it’s the only damn good thing in that book.)

They totally stole this from MTV. I just hope the video for "Sharp-Dressed Man" comes next.

This picture makes me think I’m at a crappy art opening in a not-yet-converted loft space in Bushwick drinking Yellow Tail and eating cheese cubes.

Crap! Sadly this is where it ends because I can’t find the last photo which features Dora (Polite But Cool) lying on a bed in a white nightgown (sans sequin strip) holding a rock out towards the camera while a male figure’s legs are shown to the side. I think it might be someone’s senior art thesis on reconciling their feelings towards their father.

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3 Responses to “Does this mission travel to Uranus?”

  1. Molly April 28, 2010 at 2:26 am #

    Lizzard, be my wife! Another zinger x 1,000! You rock!

    500 pts. for “Sharp-Dressed Man” reference!

  2. owentravell.com May 15, 2010 at 8:12 am #

    The great topic, and very helpfully. thanks

  3. jamboreecolombia2010.org May 16, 2010 at 11:38 am #

    If you want to visit Colombia, it will be pleased to know you are that is pretty cheap compared to the United States. For example, some countries do not accept traveler’s checks or certain types of card

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