Twilight Eviscerated

I knew nothing about the movie Twilight until after I saw it.  This is like a caveman being whisked into the future, discovering and then peeking deeply into a woodchipper; innocent exploration leads to gut-wrenching tragedy. 

My buddy Jimbo had burned it off the net (so I watched it at no dollar cost, thank God).  He only told me that it was a vampire flick and that there was some kind of territorial conflict involved.  So I'm thinking, great--a new vampire flick with some good-ol Mega Violence!

JESUS, was I wrong. 

By the time the one and only half-way serious vampire battle had ended, I realized that the movie was mostly over, and that I had spent a good deal of time watching what appeared to be a love story. 

It's OK, I thought.  Bram Stoker's Dracula was a love story too--most vampire stories are love stories, when you think about it.  The whole idea of a vampire is that you have this romantic but cursed creature. 

--Actually, they're almost exactly like rapists: charming at first, "supposedly misunderstood," but eventually revealed to be carnivorous and incorrigible twisted human souls.  Vampire stories are basically eons-long campaigns of rape, isolation and murder, but since they're good-looking and spend enough time on actual seduction before the taking, they are somehow more than just hardened criminals with sharp teeth.

Anyway, back to the shitty movie.

-- So yeah, basically I watched a soap opera involving this dude who looks like he lost a fight with his hair dresser and xanax, who didn't remove a single head, heart, or ribcage.  WTF?!?

Things became suddenly and horribly clear to me once I saw the credits:

WOMEN.

Lots of them.  Female names all over this thing.  GODDAMN IT, not even Godless bloodsucking living blasphemies are sacred anymore!  This is the kind of shit that can happen when writers go on strike and all the talent evaporates from the market.  Scabs beware!

I had to slam the laptop closed immediately, because if I had allowed myself to wonder any longer about how many hyphenated names were behind this travesty I would have lost my mind.  

Now I don't need to worry about carrying around garlic or holy water; if ever confronted by a male vampire I can just throw a copy of Cosmo down onto the ground or quote Dr. Phil and them kick him in the clitoris while he's stunned.  If it's a female I'll say I'm a fan of Sarah Palin to stall for time and then recite a math problem and watch her head explode.

P.S.  Jimbo is no longer my friend.