Creepy Children’s Programming Reviews: THE DAY MY BUTT WENT PSYCHO

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So the boy has figured out how to use the Netflix app on his (my) iPad, meaning that he no longer really watches “TV” in the classic sense, ie, on an actual television.  He’s also become a bit less likely to get religion about a show for weeks at a time.  The New Hotness might last only a few days now before he moves onto something else.  Also, because he’s watching on a personal device, what he’s watching requires a bit more direct monitoring than the TV, which gets shoved into my brain if I’m in the room whether I want to or not.

A couple of weeks ago I’m sitting in my recliner, probably reading or something, and he’s on the couch watching some damn thing on the iPad.  After a few minutes, I realize that the word butt has floated into my earballs just a bit more than random chance might otherwise suggest, and I start paying attention.   And the word butt continues to fly from the iPad.

“Boy, what the hell are you watching?”

“The Day my Butt went Psycho,” he says.

“What’s it really called?” I say.

This confuses him.  At any rate, he’s telling the truth, and The Day My Butt Went Psycho is an actual fucking show, made by Canadians and Australians, no less, two peoples who I thought had more sense than this, and based on an actual book.  Although it doesn’t appear to be actually about a particular day, or anyone’s particular butt going psycho.  No, this show’s actually the weirdest post-apocalyptic fantasy in television history:

Butts!  Always one step behind.  Years ago, butts rose up to overthrow humanity.  People fought back!  And now an uneasy peace remains, as the world waits for the next great buttfighter!

Here, there, everywhere, 
Butts are loose but we don’t care
I’m teaming up with my butt
Cheek for cheek, an awesome pair
We’ve got the same DNA
Kicking butt in every waaaaay
Zach and Deuce forever!

I…

I have so many questions.  How many years ago did this happen?  Decades?  Just a couple of years?  Has Zach’s butt Deuce always been detatched, or as the show implies, did it happen when he was a teenager?  Are children born with their butts detatched?  Can butts reproduce on their own without human assistance?  Do butts automatically match their humans in gender?  How the hell does pooping and digestion in general work now? Do butts need to eat?

What the merry fuck is buttfighting?  Why is the world waiting for a buttfighter, and how will a buttfighter help with the “uneasy peace” between people and butts?  Zach and Deuce are best friends; are they unusual in this respect?  Do most people not get along with their butts?  How does that work?  What happens to the people whose butts were killed during the Great Butt Uprising?  What happens to the butts whose people were killed during the Great Butt Uprising?  Have animals also lost their butts?  What about other living things who possess a digestive system and a means of excretion but do not, precisely speaking, have what we would call a “butt”?

What exactly is a butt, anyway?

I need to know the answers to these questions.  But without, like, watching the show or anything, because I just cannot handle this number of butt-related puns, with episodes like Butt I’m a Cheerleader and Jurassic Fart and Game of Porcelain Thrones and My God Just Kill Me and maybe I made up that last one.

This show is not telling the stories I want to hear.  I need worldbuilding here, people!  Exposition!  When are the prequels coming out?  I must know about the uprising.

God help me.

God help us all.

Tuesday miscellany

hannah-gadsby-2No overarching theme today, just a few random bits and bobs that are on my mind.  Hooray for Tuesday!

  • I’m on Day Three of The Week of Single Daddery, and it’s going great.  It took less than 12 hours of my wife being gone before I stepped in a pile of warm dogshit in my hallway, left there by a dog that had been let outside less than half an hour previously.  It was early in the morning and I was barefoot.  Because of course I was.   Last night, my not-quite-seven-year-old son took a shit that was, I swear I am not exaggerating, the size of my fist in our main bathroom.  I heard him flush but did not realize at the time that the shit was too big to flush, and we have one of those toilets that claims to be able to pass a couple dozen golf balls without trouble.  I had to cut that fucking piece of shit up with a plastic knife this morning to get it to flush, and it was actually kinda difficult to saw through.  My wife can come home anytime she wants.
  • Also, he wet the bed the night before last.  Parenting in general has just been wonderful lately.
  • I watched Hannah Gadsby’s Netflix special, Nanette, last night.  It is getting more and more true that the reason to subscribe to Netflix is their original programming, guys.  If you read me on a regular basis you have probably seen recommendations for this special in the same places I have, and let me echo them: this is an important piece of work, and you should absolutely make sure to watch it.  I’m not going to talk about it in much detail because I kind of wish I had gone in blind, and if you’re able to watch this special without knowing anything other than Luther Siler says I need to watch this, please go do so.
  • So this just happened:

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  • I signed up for an all-day training for NewJob tomorrow, and I’ve already seen several signs that I’m not going to enjoy it very much.  On the one hand, it’s a $100 stipend, and I just found out when my first paycheck is going to be and the end of August and the beginning of September are gonna be scary, and on the other hand I have other things I would rather be doing tomorrow and it’s not like that $100 is going to come early.  I got an email yesterday about a two-hour pre-workshop homework thing they want me to do.  I have shit to do today.  I’m not super interested in two hours of homework, especially for a pedagogical technique that as near as I can tell will not work at all with kids who won’t do homework.  I am tempted to show up without doing any of mine and asking the trainer what she thinks should be done about me.  Or I could just cancel.  Who knows?
  • I spent most of yesterday rereading the early manuscript for Sunlight.  What I have written is actually pretty damn good, I think.  And I’m getting closer and closer to getting the overarching plot issues sorted out so that I can avoid Middle Book Syndrome.    It’s coming!  I swear!  Eventually!
  • I beat Dark Souls Remastered a few weeks ago, and have been replaying through Bloodborne since then.  I’m doing a lot better than the first time I played through; I never managed to beat Martyr Logarius on my first playthrough and I clobbered his ass on my first try this time.  I’m up to the second to last boss, who beat me several times yesterday.  I’ll get him today, dammit, then it’s on to another shot at either 2 or 3, neither of which have I beaten.  I love this series, but it took several games before I actually got halfway good at it.
  • I had a free consultation at a local LASIK clinic this morning.  LASIK is way less expensive than I had thought, and it turns out I’m a more or less perfect candidate for it.  I’m broke as hell right now, mind you, but I think this is something that is probably on my agenda for next summer.  Time to start socking money away.

More later, maybe, if I come up with anything else I want to talk about today.

 

Quick question

I’ve completely lost patience with The Walking Dead, and haven’t watched an episode since the show came back from its midseason hiatus.  We’re, I dunno, four or five episodes into the new season of Jessica Jones and I can barely pay attention.  I did notice that Season 2 of Into the Badlands was on Netflix, and I’ll watch that, and I binged The End of the Fucking World on Hulu a week or two ago but that’s kinda a one-off.

What’s good in TV right now?  Y’all should have a decent idea of what my tastes are like after all this time, right?

In which I waste a whole bunch of my time: a #review of IRON FIST

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I have said this before, both on this blog and elsewhere: if you are ever compelled, as a writer in any medium, to create a scenario where your characters are complaining about how dumb your plot is, it is probably time to stop and think very carefully about what you are doing.  If you are writing a show called Iron Fist, about a man whose job it is to be the Iron Fist, and the very first line a character says upon meeting him is “You are the worst Iron Fist ever,” you may be doing something wrong.  It is possible to write a good story about a hero who is terrible at being a hero.  But if you do that, then that’s what your story needs to be about.  You can’t have a hero who is terrible at being a hero and have your story be about something else.  The fact that he or she is terrible is going to take center stage and ruin everything else.

Enter Iron Fist, whose writers clearly do not read my blog.  This post is unnecessary in a whole lot of ways; it took me a while to get through all thirteen episodes– mostly because, again, the show’s awful– and everyone who binged it right away has already weighed in on how bad it is.  They’re all right.  But maybe there’s someone out there who isn’t attuned to the geek press all that much, but reads me for some reason.  Someone who might be saved.

Please don’t watch this show.

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And this doofy shit is the main reason why.  Now, let’s be clear about a few things:  there was a lot of fooferal when the show hadn’t quite come out yet about the fact that Marvel cast a white guy as Iron Fist instead of racebending the character and casting an Asian person instead.  I am sympathetic to those concerns, to say the least.  But even if you’re going to cast a white guy as Iron Fist, because the comic book character is white, Finn Jones is just about the worst possible choice to play the role.  He is awful; awful in every way, he is written to be awful, and the man himself does nothing to corral or channel(*) his character’s intrinsic awfulness.  There is nothing Finn Jones does in this show at any point that is convincing.  He cannot do kung fu, he cannot emote beyond an infantile shaking rage, he absolutely cannot spout anything even vaguely resembling Buddhist philosophy (and I choose the word “resembling” quite deliberately) without sounding like a hipster doofus, and he never once comes off as heroic.  Iron Fist is a sulky hipster doofus with PTSD and all the emotional stability of a ten-year-old.  He is awful.

So is every other white man on the show, by the way.  The show can’t have anyone keep a personality or a set of motivations straight for more than an episode at a time, and there are never ever ever any consequences for anyone’s actions, to the point where there are giant holes blown in one character’s dojo’s ceiling at one point so that machine-gun ninjas can drop through (don’t ask) and those giant holes and broken windows and such are never mentioned again.  Characters display magical powers in one episode and then forget they have them.  Characters are killed, thrown into fish tanks in someone’s home, then never mentioned again.

You could cut every white male character completely out of the show and nothing of any significance would change, at all.  They are, all of them, awful.

Let’s talk about these three:
tmg-article_default_mobileMadame_Gao.jpgI’m having a hell of a time getting the HTML to cooperate, so forgive me, but these three are the only thing that makes the show even vaguely watchable.  Jessica Henwick, who plays Colleen Wing, should have been playing Dani Rand.  Or, alternatively, you could grab this drunken-master badass here– his name is Lewis Tan and he actually auditioned for the park– and have him play Danny Rand.  Between the two of them they are responsible for 100% of the interesting fight scenes in the show.  Every single one.  They are also both maxresdefault.jpgbetter actors than Finn Jones. Wai Ching Ho also returns as Madame Gao, and she’s amazing for every second she’s on screen even if her character’s motivations (and abilities) are more than a little bit of a mess.  The fact that the show had these three people in it and more or less ignored them so that Jones could whine about how tough it is to be white and immensely wealthy and oh also one of the best martial artists in the world but MY PARENTS ARE DEAAADD!!!!
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It’s terrible.  But I think I said that.  I think the only thing that could redeem it is if I watched it again, liveblogged every episode, and then turned it into a chapbook to sell on Amazon and made a million dollars.

(*) So, Iron Fist’s powers come from channeling the power of his “chi” into his fist, making it Like Unto a Thing of Iron, as the comic books used to say all the time and the TV show never does.  TV Danny can’t do that.  I have quite a few Iron Fist comic books, and even more where Iron Fist isn’t the main character but shows up, and I swear to you that Finn Jones does more wanking about his chi in this thirteen hours of show than Iron Fist has done in his entire forty-year history as a comic book character previous to the show coming up.  Comic book Danny Rand’s powers just work, basically whenever he wants them to.  TV Danny Rand’s chi must be balanced, charged, recharged, harnessed, centered, purified, unblocked, hell, every verb in the English language gets applied to Danny’s chi at some point or another; I’m surprised he never has to Smurf the fucking thing.  And hearing him talk about it never stops being ridiculous.  Mostly his powers just don’t work, and mostly his powers don’t work because, in one way or another, he’s an embarrassment to his order and to his job.  He’s the worst Iron Fist ever.  Really.

I hated this damn show.