Monday, 28 July 2014

A Few Pointers On Your Fanfiction

Dear SonicGurl92,

As a purveyor of the Internet’s filthiest fanfiction, I felt compelled to write to you after reading your incredibly heartfelt Sonic/Transformers slash fic.  While your words moved me in my many special places, I feel that you could use a little guidance on how to improve your erotic writing.  Your raw talent will blossom if you observe the following points:

1)  Sonic would never put a chilli dog up his own anus.  You need to think about the character’s motivations more often, as everyone knows that Sonic is a giver rather than a receiver.  His go-getting attitude and positive outlook would make him a person who is willing to do things to others rather than debase himself in such a manner.  Think about characterisation more and I’m sure your writing will become much more involved and informed.  On that same point, he wouldn't let his enemies take over the Green Hill Zone in exchange for "getting bummed in the gob".

My fanfic writing costume

2)  The part where Scooby Doo was getting done over by Captain America was really hot, but it really could have used a bit more description.  Don’t be afraid to elaborate on the small details.  You could have mentioned how the tag on Scooby’s collar was bouncing in time to the rhythmic thrusts.  It’s a neat little touch that really improves the realism of the story and helps people to imagine it in vivid detail.

3)  The phrase “Cured Beef” is not very sexy and is a very confusing opening gambit when describing a robot’s rectal passage.

4)  I really liked it when they visited Megatron’s family.  It was an interesting interlude before the main orgy.  However, why did the autobots start eating cake?  They don't even have digestive tracts.  You need to think these things through.

5)  You could have really used a subplot or two to try and prolong the story.  I really enjoyed the 248,000 words that you had already written, but as a fanfic fan, I don’t like to settle for a light read.  I don’t usually read a fanfic that is less than 300,000 words as a rule and I know many members of this community are even more demanding.  Perhaps next time you could throw in a few more crossovers such as The Raccoons, or those cute little monsters from Trap Door.

6)  The part where E.T. tried to give Tails a reach around is completely ludicrous.  In my own fanfiction titled "The Fabric Of Spaceghost’s Pants", I firmly established that E.T. is an asexual being who wanders the universe and gives pleasure to others with his magic finger.  If you’re going to use my characters at least follow the established lore behind them.  I don’t mind a bit of artistic license but this is taking the piss!

7)  The bit where Knuckles turned super was a bit stupid since he didn’t even have all of the chaos emeralds.

8)  While your writing is pretty decent, those horrible MSpaints were truly appalling.  I don’t mind seeing Bumblebee getting dinged up by a superfast hedgehog, but the poor image compression makes the action look like it has been censored out.  If you’re going to illustrate, I want to be able to see everything in glorious HD.

I know some of this might seem picky, but I truly believe that you will become a greater writer if you follow my advice.  If you would like some further tuition, my rates are extremely unreasonable.  Hope this helps!


Friday, 25 July 2014

Please Respect My Buttless Chaps

The relentless sniggering behind my back is one thing, but the fact that I am being persecuted for my cultural heritage is outright despicable.  I can’t even venture out to the corner shop without someone throwing stones at me, or people telling me that I’m “offensive”.  Occasionally the police are called, who then insist on draping towels around my waist and escorting me home in the name of public decency.  All of this is because people can’t accept my buttless leather chaps.

I will not stand for this any longer.  If you have a problem with the way I dress, then you are disrespecting my cultural heritage, pure and simple.  I come from a long line of buttless chap wearers.  My great, great, great, grandfather Wilfred used to rustle up some cattle in a pair of the ol’ breezy’s.  Before that, my distant buttless uncle Peter was part of the French resistance, and you’d never see him trying to protect his derriere from the bayonets and bullets of his enemies with a layer of fabric.  These trousers are an important part of my lineage and I wouldn’t want to disrespect the struggles of my ancestors by applying cloth to buttock.

The list of public places I am banned from gets longer by the day.  I am no longer welcome at the library, the school, church, my local, my non-local, the supermarket, laser quest, the arcade, Claridge’s , the nuclear power plant, the old watering hole, my neighbours pools, and outside.  Even the postman doesn’t knock on the door any more.  He just leaves my packages with the neighbours, even when I’m at home.  This is pure discrimination.

The "censored" version that I have to wear to my kid's school plays.
I don’t understand why some people are allowed to wear unusual clothing and I’m not.  You don’t see me walking around slapping those weird Jewish hats off of people’s heads or tearing off people's burkhas.  They are allowed to wear them due to religious reasons.  Well what if I were to say that I worshipped buttless trousers?  I don’t, because that would be ridiculous, but I could if I wanted to and you should be happy for me.

So here I stand, proud, sunburnt and nettled; turning the other cheek every time some drunken hen party slaps my arse and whistles like a filthy steam engine.   All I ask is that people consider a little cultural sensitivity and respect my lifestyle choices.  That, and please stop making me sit on towels when I come round for tea.  Thanks in advance!

Monday, 21 July 2014

How The Drip Bill Affects You

Ever since Edward Snowden delighted us all by blowing a whistle (as I understand it), it seems that the word on everyone’s lips at the moment is “privacy”.  We value our privacy so much that we can’t stop talking about it, to everyone and everything.  I recently had the words “More Internet Privacy” tattooed on my bollocks, and then I uploaded a scrotal selfie of it to Facebook.  That’s how excited I am about privacy.

After months of complaining, and sending pictures of my balls to Downing Street, it seems that the government have finally not listened to our demands of not being listened to.  That’s why they’re currently rushing a bill through parliament called DRIP (Data Retention and Investigatory Powers).  In yet another lick of the salt stick that is our civil liberties, the bill intends to extend government powers to monitor us and retain our communications information if we are suspected criminals.  All the party leaders are backing this bill in effort to push it through the Commons as quickly and quietly as possible.  This bill is so drab that the government hopes that you’ll become bored and disinterested, like if someone tried to offer you a Watchtower magazine.  That’s why they called it DRIP, to make it sound so bland that you won’t care.

Well I do care.  That’s why I’ve read the bill.  There’s a lot of nasty stuff in here that they don’t want you to read.  Here’s a summary of some of the most heinous parts of the bill.

1)  Every Person Will be Given A Barcode

Since we didn’t want ID cards, the government intend to brand you with a unique identifier instead.  This series of lines, when scanned with a barcode reader, will provide your name, age, social security number, the number of times you’ve failed to wash your hands after a wee, and your sell by date.  This will also make using self-service checkouts an absolute nightmare.

2)  Every Household Will Be Required To Download Michael Gove

Using 3D printers, every family in Britain will soon find themselves infested with a serious case of Gove.  He’ll slink around your house checking for terrorists and making sure that your children haven’t been radicalised.  His primary function is to bang on the door while you’re taking a shit, demanding that you allow him to inspect the room for Islamic propaganda, and don’t you dare flush!  He will also stand at the foot of your bed while you’re trying to make love.  His little beagle-like head will wrinkle further as he tries to comprehend the concept of love and acceptance amongst two human beings.  

You're own, personal, former education minister

3)  Your Internet History Will Automatically Be Emailed To Your Mum

In order to stop you going on bomb-making websites or becoming a pedophile, your parents will have full and unedited access to your browsing habits.  This will make you think twice before you decide to let yourself become indoctrinated.

4)  Ask Jeeves Will Become The UK’s Primary Search Engine

As an effort to promote the aristocracy as a friendly, all-knowing source of information and power, the government intends to relaunch the unpopular search engine, Ask Jeeves.  Anyone attempting to Google anything will be remanded in custody until the mercy of Jeeves is bestowed upon you.

5)  Anyone Attempting To Fly To Russia Will Be Arrested

Why would anyone want to go to Russia?  It’s cold, bleak, and smells faintly of fermented potatoes.  The only reason anyone would want to go there is if they were a whistleblower searching for asylum.  Let’s catch them before they leave, then, because we don’t want to waste taxes paying for their incarceration, send them somewhere horrible, like Russia!  That’ll teach them.

From these few points, it’s obvious that the DRIP bill is bad news.  The government will tell you that “if you’ve done nothing wrong, then you’ve got nothing to hide”, but I implore you not to fall for this line.  I used to hide sweets in my bedroom because I didn’t want my brothers and sisters to steal them, so hiding things can be noble.  That, and all those unpaid parking tickets.  Either way, I implore you not to support the government’s actions and not to support DRIP.

Friday, 18 July 2014

My Birthday - The Change

Today is my birthday.  Due to the aging process, I'm starting to feel a new sense of maturity about myself.  It's been literally days since I laughed at a fart. I have survived 28 years so far on this planet and I’ve been posting on Muppets For Justice for 7 of them.  That’s one quarter of my entire life.  Granted, I only starting posting regularly 3 years ago when I finally found my voice (it’s always under the fridge isn’t it?), but even so, that’s a long time to have been blogging.

Not only that, I’ve posted over 400 times, written several guest blogs, recorded a short podcast series, and put together a book.  I’ve put a lot of time into this whole Muppets For Justice thing, and I think it’s fair to say that I’ve had a modicum of success.  I’ve got a small, cult following, regular hits, and I’ve met some fantastic writers and bloggers through this whole thing, which is incredibly important to me. However, from small trees do mighty acorns grow (I think that’s right), so lately I’ve been trying to promote the blog more.

Recent efforts on that front have been pretty slow.  I’ve been trying to promote Muppets For Justice on Facebook and Twitter more regularly, but I don’t feel like the blog is growing much at the moment.  Things seem to have reached a plateau on that front. I’m not very good at putting myself out there and vying for that recognition.  I think it’s a mixture of apathy (since everyone’s trying to promote something), plus a lack of faith in my own abilities that are holding me back on this front.  I need to try harder.

However, I also think that there’s a distinct problem with the blog itself.  While Muppets For Justice is a unique name that I used to love, I think it’s also become a big burden hanging around my neck.  The casual observer probably sees this place as a Muppets fan site, especially since I have a picture of the cookie monster up there. I think Muppets For Justice is a confusing blog since the Muppets are an established brand and wildly popular in their own right.  To try and build a successful online presence off of the back of this was always going to be an uphill struggle.  It’s a bit like trying to start a robotics company called Skynet.  It’s also not very unique since this blog’s very existence probably breaks copyright law in some capacity.

I think that there’s also several layers of obfuscation here; there’s the Muppets For Justice blog, there’s my Internet handle Addman, my Twitter account Ollie The Pigeon, and whatever else I happen to be writing as that day.  None of these elements seem to tie together very well.  Since the advent of social media, it’s more acceptable to use your full name online. I think people feel a little disconnected from me as a writer when they see the name Addman and the puppet avatar, especially when coupled with my usual content. 

All of this is a convoluted way of saying that I’m thinking about making some changes.  I’m thinking of ditching the handle and using my real name (gasp!), tying all of my associated accounts together and, biggest of all, renaming Muppets For Justice.  I have a couple of new names in mind that don’t infringe on existing copyrights, which I’ll reveal later if everything goes ahead.

What do you folks think about this?  Would Muppets For Justice not be the same if it was called something else?

Please let me know your opinions.  I’m eager to change things up, but I don’t want to alienate the people who stop by regularly and I'm nervous about ruining everything I’ve built so far.  Any feedback you can give is valuable and will influence my decision tremendously.

Thank you for reading and I’m sorry it’s not as entertaining as usual.  Normal service shall resume next week.  This has to be the strangest birthday post ever.

Monday, 14 July 2014

Song Dissection – Paolo Nutini Edition

Hello and welcome to another edition of our long running song dissection series.  In this edition, we’re going to analyse the latest effort of sunshiney vagrant, Paolo Nutini.  With his new song Scream, Paolo is trying to transform himself from the world’s happiest jazz hobo to the world’s sexiest jazz hobo. Let’s scrutinise the song until it doesn’t mean anything anymore:

How was I to know you’d just come along?

(And funk my life up)

Fair enough.  Someone who is really into funk has found their way into Paolo’s life.  I’ve been waiting for someone to come along and slap bass my life up, but I’ve had little luck on that front.

Lips like they’ve been singing sexed up strawberry songs

(Just funk my life up)

I can’t think of that many sexed up strawberry songs.  Perhaps they are folk songs that local strawberry pickers used to sing to keep their spirits up, and their libidos.

Never heard it coming, thought it’s just another woman

With a shotgun in her hand

(Funk my life up)

Looks like Paolo has had a few encounters with dangerous, shotgun-toting women in the past.  He must be attracted to the daughters of Italian mafia bosses or something.  Maybe even an assassin.  Interestingly, he sounds rather unconcerned about the situation.  “Oh it’s just another woman come to blow my brains out with a shotgun.  Happens every Tuesday.”

She’s the bass, she’s the beat, she’s the rhythm, she’s the band

(Just funk my life up)

And she’s also part of a one-woman band!  Being an assassin must be difficult if you have a bass drum strapped to your back and symbols on your knees.

And the girl, so fine

Makes you wanna scream Hallelujah

Sounds like she’s a vicar too.

Sly hands, spinning webs like silk

Beats are dripping on me, like spider milk

This line is actually rather easy to dissect.  Basically, being the derelict superstar that Paolo Nutini is, he lives in a leaky basement and milks spiders for a living.  It’s a nice little earner that tides him over between albums.  He comes from a long line of spider milkers; it’s been in his family for generations.  Just ask Wikipedia.

And I never heard the warning when I woke up this morning

With my sunshine on a drip

Obviously he doesn’t mean that literally.  There’s no way that you could have sunshine on a drip, as that would be impractical and absurd.  No, “sunshine” in this case is a slang term meaning something else entirely.  He’s actually referring to the tropical drink Sunny Delight.

She’s my rock, she’s my bud, she’s tequila, she’s a trip

She’s also a shape shifter.

And that girl, so fine

Makes you wanna scream Hallelujah

How can I refuse? I’m not fit to chose

(Just funk my life up)

I said the only way I win is the way I lose

(Just funk my life up)

He’s definitely been to Vegas then.

And I never got the script, I unzipped

Got a little bit wet up in my brain

This can happen if you don’t get any excess water out of your ears with a Johnson’s baby bud. Always make sure to clean your ears after bath time.

She’s your church, she’s your sin, she’s atomic,

she’s the oh she’s the rain

And the girl, so fine you wanna scream

Yeah, yeah

She gets me silly, she’s like a trick on me

Hell, I don’t even know her name but yet she sticks to me

Then she should try showering more.  Dirty, sticky girl.

And in the climax she would scream with me

Yeah, she sticks to me

She gets me funny, she doesn’t want none of my money

So I pour it over her like gasoline

Yep, that’s a normal part of the courtship process; the gasoline pouring.  Whenever I want our relationship to move onto the next level, I always make sure to pour diesel all over my girlfriends.  Oddly enough, this usually occurs towards the end of the relationship.

Light a match and then I’m back in my teens

Me and super girl smoking my green

Me and super girl smoking my green

Now he’s cajoling Superman’s daughter into the sinister world of drug abuse.  I doubt it is for medical purposes.  Super Girl never gets sick.

Unload, reload, eyes back swinging,

Sweet thing, knows things, Jeff Beck sings

I think Paolo is a little confused.  His crazed ramblings have more in common with Beck than Jeff Beck.  I’m sure Beck probably wrote a few of these lines for him.

Roundhouse, going down…… Let’s go!

And the girl so fine makes you wanna scream Hallelujah


Yeah, the girl, so fine, you wanna scream

So to sum up, Paolo Nutini’s life as a spider milker was interrupted by a shapeshifting assassin who came to kill him, but instead they fell in love.  Paolo then tried to pour petrol all over her as a show of commitment, which caused their relationship to break down.  On the rebound, Paolo started a relationship with a superhero’s daughter, and they spent their days getting high on weed and Sunny D.

If that isn’t enough to convince you that all music is worthless, I don’t know what is.