I know! All of those things are awesome! I too am unable to fathom just how awesome this article is going to be.
Who doesn't love these things? This is fuckin' America people! (see what I did there?) But which one is the best? The answer may be harder to determine than you'd think. Let's explore.
GUNS
Guns are freakin' sweet. I mean, who doesn't love to go camping, set pop cans up on a rock, and then use a dangerously high powered projectile weapon to push those cans off the rock? Hell yeah!
Have you ever played a video game without guns in it? Of course not. They don't exist. Same with movies. Go watch The Notebook again. There's gotta be a gun in there somewhere.
Seriously though, most popular entertainment features guns. They're everywhere. Guns, whose primary function is to kill (or best case scenario, violently incapacitate) are likely featured more than anything else, save for people. And who loves them? EVERYBODY! Men, women, old people, young people, Republicans, (and to a lesser degree) Democrats. The NRA positively LOVES guns. Everyone loves them. Young children, albeit with the consent of a parent or sufficiently adult guardian (I don't think I qualify) are more than welcome to watch movies and play video games where tons of people get shot in the face. Awesome.
SWEARING
Swearing is even better than guns! You don't need a permit, it doesn't cost anything, and it's easy to take with you everywhere you go. And, even though I've done absolutely no research on this, I feel pretty confident in saying that swearing has never directly killed a person, on purpose or accidentally.
However, despite it's lack of lethality (or maybe because of it) swearing is not nearly as popular in mainstream entertainment. You can't say "fuck" more than once in a movie without gaining an R rating, but you can kill a fuckload of people with guns and still be PG-13 (this sentence is rated R for language.) Parents seem much less likely to take their kids to a raunchy comedy full of language than to an action movie full of killing. Odd, seeing as how I'd much rather have someone tell me to "eat shit" than shoot me in the chest. But then again, I'm an eccentric, so go figure.
BOOBS
Ah, boobs are the best. Everything about them is wonderful and amazing. They are number one of the list of Awesome Stuff, followed closely by a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, water, and the sun. (The sun would likely be higher on the list if it wasn't so in your face about everything.)
Honestly, without boobs, the human race would not exist. They create and deliver the life-giving nutrients that nourish us through our early formative periods. (Shut up Formula, nobody likes you.) All of those people that invented and created many of the technological advances that you take for granted owe their success to boobs. Via the Transitive Property, breasts are directly responsible for every advancement of the human race. Remember the space shuttle? Thanks boobs.
And yet, for some reason, boobs are the smelly kid of the entertainment world. Nobody likes them. Sure, maybe you actually like the smelly kid, and hang out with him in private, but there's no way you'd actually admit that to people.
If a woman takes her shirt off in a movie, even if her back is to the camera, people FREAK OUT! "Oh my God! I'm fairly certain there are fleshy protrusions on her chest! What if my children were to see that!? The moral fiber of America is collapsing! Oh noes!"
How dare they! Everyone knows that the less of the human body that is visible in general, the more successful the global economy is. DUH!
RECAP
Alright, let's go over this again really quick.
Guns: bringers of death, pain and suffering - widely accepted and even embraced. Check.
Swearing: offensive at times, but ultimately harmless (sticks and stones, and all that) - accepted, but less so, and only under a specific set of rules. Check.
Boobs: soft, innocuous, givers of life - BANNED AND TREATED WITH A LEVEL OF ANTAGONISM THAT EVEN ILLICIT CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES DON'T SUFFER. Che...wait. What the hell?
So, movies like Hostel, which I understand to be a movie where people are tortured ad nauseum (I haven't actually seen it) are pretty widely accepted, but any film where a woman is topless (no matter the brevity of the scene) is dripping with controversy and protest.
The further something is from a horrible and painful death, the less accepted it is. But the higher the body count, the better. (Hardly anyone died in Mission: Impossible and a lot of people struggled with that movie. Sad, really.) Our culture has a much easier time dealing with mass murder than with natural elements of the human physiology. Way to have your priorities in order, America.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Contrary to popular belief, Harry Potter isn't good.
As anyone who knows me is very aware, I'm not Harry Potter's biggest fan. There are a number of reasons why this is. I don't understand why so many adults find what is a clearly an adolescent series so fascinating. I don't know why people treat it as a sacred and reverent text devoid of all flaw and issue. (I can recognize many issues in even my favorite novels.) But really, ultimately, it's because the writing is crap.
"Ugh, but it gets better later on!" Screw that. I'm not walking through miles of barbed wire and landmines just to get to a piece of cake at the end. Even if it is really awesome cake. Not worth it. Likewise, I'm not going to trudge through several crappy books to get to the "good stuff" when there are plenty of good books I can enjoy right now.
So, due to overwhelming popular demand....or one person who was particularly obnoxious about me re-posting this (you know who you are), here is my original blog about Harry Potter (with a few minor fixes.) Enjoy!
P.S. I almost killed a kid with this piece, so consider yourself warned. (Hi Shayne!)
J.K. Rowling can’t write for shit.
As my title may lead you to believe, I am fully under the impression that J.K. Rowling is a shitty writer. "But Zeb!" some of you may cry, "she's made millions off those books. They HAVE to be good." To that, I say, "Nay." Three examples of no talent ass-clowns who have millions of dollars: Paris Hilton, David Hasselhoff, and the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Enough said.
The writing is atrocious at best, even when taking into account that these books were written for adolescents. One person told me that the writing wasn't the appeal of these books, but the story. It has a fantastic, compelling story that takes you on a wondrous magic carpet ride of imagination. (NOTE: Not a direct quote.) Having a great story is fine, but if you can't use the language to portray it in an intelligent and interesting way, you're still a crappy writer. (Crime and Punishment is another book with a great story, but boring as hell writer. I couldn't go five minutes in that book without falling asleep, and stopped trying halfway through. What do people see in Dostoevsky anyway? But I digress...) Allow me to give you an example. Here is a great story from Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, as interpreted and written by J.K. Rowling.* The story itself will be presented in a larger, easier to read font, because it's obviously written for child...I mean, adults.
Once upon a time there were two brothers at a bar, drinking heavily (of wine and beer.) One was named Bimblyboo, and the other, Craggle-da. They were strange looking brothers. Even though Craggle-da had an overly large forehead, he had slender fingers. Bimblyboo had hands the size of rocks and feet as long as string. Drunk as they were (and they were quite drunk), they decided to kill Death. An old man at the bar told them they could find Death under the lone tree out on Gooblyrock Ridge. So they left.
They reached the lone tree out on Gooblyrock Ridge just before dark. But Death wasn't there. There was only a pile of amazing jewels.
"These are fabulous jewels!" Craggle-da said fabulously.
Each jewel was the size of a nine day old duckling and a small jar of marmalade combined, and each of the brothers looked upon them and thought how much they wanted them for themselves.
"It's almost dark," said Bimblyboo darkly. "We should carry these home in the day. I will go to town and bring back food and drink for tonight."
"And I will guard the jewels," said Craggle-da guardedly.
As soon as Bimblyboo left, Craggle-da began to formulate a plan to kill his brother so he may have all the jewels to himself. He pulled his Person-Stabber out of his belt and hid it in his sleeve.
"When Bimblyboo come back, I will stab him dead with my Person-Stabber," he laughed evily.
Meanwhile in town, Bimblyboo had bought the food and drinks, and was now making his own plan to kill his brother. So he went to the Poisony Poisons and Potions to buy poison to put in his brothers drink.
"I need strong poison to kill some rats at my house," he lied to the storekeeper.
The storekeeper knew that he was lying, but for some reason didn't think he was telling the truth.
"Okay," he said.
Bimblyboo got so excited that he accidentally spilled one of the drinks on the counter.
"Oh no!"
"Don't worry," said the shopkeeper. "I can clean it up."
He pulled a repaired Get-Wetter out of his sleeve. It looked kind of like a squirt gun. He pulled the trigger on it once, and all the water on the counter dried up instantly.
"Here is your poison," said the shopkeeper, handing him the poison.
Bimblyboo paid quickly, and ran out the door. Before anyone could see, he dumped all the poison in the only drink left.
When Bimblyboo got back to the lone tree on Gooblyrock Ridge, his brother was waiting there for him.
"Hello brother. I am not going to stab you with my Person-Stabber."
"How many?" said Bimblyboo stupidly.
Craggle-da slipped the Person-Stabber from his sleeve and stabbed Bimblyboo in the chest.
"Oh no, you've killed me." Bimblyboo said deadly, as he fell to the ground.
"Now, to enjoy the food and drink before I take the jewels, which are all mine."
The drink was his favorite one (it was full of dancing jiggleberries) and he gulped it down like a seahorse.
"Oh no, poison!" he said, surprisedly, before he fell over and died.
Holy crap that sucked. My deepest apologies for creating that worthless text for you to read. Now, the scary thing is, all of the elements I used in this story, are techniques that J.K. Rowling actually uses in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Furthermore, they're all in the first couple of chapters of the book! Allow me to demonstrate.
"Even though Craggle-da had an overly large forehead, he had slender fingers." - Chapter 1. This is on the first page. Rowling's sentence reads, "He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache." Although? As if in some way, his large mustache compensates for his lack of neck? How are those two things related?
"Bimblyboo had hands the size of rocks and feet as long as string." - In Chapter 1, while describing Hagrid, she states, "...and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins." WHAT? How are baby dolphins like feet in any way? Is she trying to say that his feet are wet and smooth? Are they swimming in there? Is she trying to indicate size? Let's suppose for a moment that using the word 'baby' when describing something large isn't counter-productive, who can readily bring to mind how large a baby dolphin is? Holy crap.
"Drunk as they were (and they were quite drunk)" - This one is everywhere. I don't know why she insists on using parentheses at all, let alone where they're unnecessary.
"Craggle-da said fabulously.", "said Bimblyboo darkly.", etc. etc. etc. - Another one that is near constant. My favorite one, which I can't find incidentally, says someone said something "importantly." If you can't express the character's emotion through good writing, AT LEAST ONCE!, maybe you should take a class rather than force-feed us how they're feeling with adverbs. Oh wait, this is a book for kids.
"Person-Stabber," and the "Get-Wetter," that dries up the puddle are from Chapter 1. Dumbledore, the inspiration for the names of my characters, uses an item called a Put-Outer, to put out the lights in the street. Okay, I can accept that. But when he uses the Put-Outer to turn the lights back ON, I did the equivalent of a reading double take. Seriously, using the Put-Outer to turn lights on is like trying to put out a fire with a box of matches.
"The storekeeper knew that he was lying, but for some reason didn't think he was telling the truth." - In Chapter 5, Harry is still having trouble accepting that he is a wizard, and wonders if the Dursely's have played a trick on him. "If Harry hadn't known that the Dursely's had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him." So, he's saying, I know it can't be a trick, and yet I believe that this guy isn't tricking me. Hmmm. Good one.
"How many?" asked Bimblyboo stupidly." - In Chapter 4, someone knocks on the door. "'Where's the cannon?' he (Dudley) said stupidly." I think this is an attempt at humor, but I don't really get it. Maybe 'cause I'm not eleven. Go figure.
"He pulled a repaired Get-Wetter out of his sleeve." In Chapter 3, she writes, "The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning." Why did she tell us it was repaired? She never told us it was broken. There was no discussion about it getting fixed. That sentence is the only reference to it being broken. Like, at all.
There's more I could go on about, but I'm already upset I spent this much time on this crap book so I'm going to end it here. My main point is that this is a book for children and adolescents, and I'm sick and tired of ADULTS heralding this book as great and amazing.
*J.K. Rowling didn't write this story, I did. Normally I wouldn't have to say this, but the people who have confused Rowling's writing style with good writing might be confused about satire.
"Ugh, but it gets better later on!" Screw that. I'm not walking through miles of barbed wire and landmines just to get to a piece of cake at the end. Even if it is really awesome cake. Not worth it. Likewise, I'm not going to trudge through several crappy books to get to the "good stuff" when there are plenty of good books I can enjoy right now.
So, due to overwhelming popular demand....or one person who was particularly obnoxious about me re-posting this (you know who you are), here is my original blog about Harry Potter (with a few minor fixes.) Enjoy!
P.S. I almost killed a kid with this piece, so consider yourself warned. (Hi Shayne!)
J.K. Rowling can’t write for shit.
As my title may lead you to believe, I am fully under the impression that J.K. Rowling is a shitty writer. "But Zeb!" some of you may cry, "she's made millions off those books. They HAVE to be good." To that, I say, "Nay." Three examples of no talent ass-clowns who have millions of dollars: Paris Hilton, David Hasselhoff, and the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Enough said.
The writing is atrocious at best, even when taking into account that these books were written for adolescents. One person told me that the writing wasn't the appeal of these books, but the story. It has a fantastic, compelling story that takes you on a wondrous magic carpet ride of imagination. (NOTE: Not a direct quote.) Having a great story is fine, but if you can't use the language to portray it in an intelligent and interesting way, you're still a crappy writer. (Crime and Punishment is another book with a great story, but boring as hell writer. I couldn't go five minutes in that book without falling asleep, and stopped trying halfway through. What do people see in Dostoevsky anyway? But I digress...) Allow me to give you an example. Here is a great story from Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, as interpreted and written by J.K. Rowling.* The story itself will be presented in a larger, easier to read font, because it's obviously written for child...I mean, adults.
Once upon a time there were two brothers at a bar, drinking heavily (of wine and beer.) One was named Bimblyboo, and the other, Craggle-da. They were strange looking brothers. Even though Craggle-da had an overly large forehead, he had slender fingers. Bimblyboo had hands the size of rocks and feet as long as string. Drunk as they were (and they were quite drunk), they decided to kill Death. An old man at the bar told them they could find Death under the lone tree out on Gooblyrock Ridge. So they left.
They reached the lone tree out on Gooblyrock Ridge just before dark. But Death wasn't there. There was only a pile of amazing jewels.
"These are fabulous jewels!" Craggle-da said fabulously.
Each jewel was the size of a nine day old duckling and a small jar of marmalade combined, and each of the brothers looked upon them and thought how much they wanted them for themselves.
"It's almost dark," said Bimblyboo darkly. "We should carry these home in the day. I will go to town and bring back food and drink for tonight."
"And I will guard the jewels," said Craggle-da guardedly.
As soon as Bimblyboo left, Craggle-da began to formulate a plan to kill his brother so he may have all the jewels to himself. He pulled his Person-Stabber out of his belt and hid it in his sleeve.
"When Bimblyboo come back, I will stab him dead with my Person-Stabber," he laughed evily.
Meanwhile in town, Bimblyboo had bought the food and drinks, and was now making his own plan to kill his brother. So he went to the Poisony Poisons and Potions to buy poison to put in his brothers drink.
"I need strong poison to kill some rats at my house," he lied to the storekeeper.
The storekeeper knew that he was lying, but for some reason didn't think he was telling the truth.
"Okay," he said.
Bimblyboo got so excited that he accidentally spilled one of the drinks on the counter.
"Oh no!"
"Don't worry," said the shopkeeper. "I can clean it up."
He pulled a repaired Get-Wetter out of his sleeve. It looked kind of like a squirt gun. He pulled the trigger on it once, and all the water on the counter dried up instantly.
"Here is your poison," said the shopkeeper, handing him the poison.
Bimblyboo paid quickly, and ran out the door. Before anyone could see, he dumped all the poison in the only drink left.
When Bimblyboo got back to the lone tree on Gooblyrock Ridge, his brother was waiting there for him.
"Hello brother. I am not going to stab you with my Person-Stabber."
"How many?" said Bimblyboo stupidly.
Craggle-da slipped the Person-Stabber from his sleeve and stabbed Bimblyboo in the chest.
"Oh no, you've killed me." Bimblyboo said deadly, as he fell to the ground.
"Now, to enjoy the food and drink before I take the jewels, which are all mine."
The drink was his favorite one (it was full of dancing jiggleberries) and he gulped it down like a seahorse.
"Oh no, poison!" he said, surprisedly, before he fell over and died.
Holy crap that sucked. My deepest apologies for creating that worthless text for you to read. Now, the scary thing is, all of the elements I used in this story, are techniques that J.K. Rowling actually uses in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Furthermore, they're all in the first couple of chapters of the book! Allow me to demonstrate.
"Even though Craggle-da had an overly large forehead, he had slender fingers." - Chapter 1. This is on the first page. Rowling's sentence reads, "He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache." Although? As if in some way, his large mustache compensates for his lack of neck? How are those two things related?
"Bimblyboo had hands the size of rocks and feet as long as string." - In Chapter 1, while describing Hagrid, she states, "...and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins." WHAT? How are baby dolphins like feet in any way? Is she trying to say that his feet are wet and smooth? Are they swimming in there? Is she trying to indicate size? Let's suppose for a moment that using the word 'baby' when describing something large isn't counter-productive, who can readily bring to mind how large a baby dolphin is? Holy crap.
"Drunk as they were (and they were quite drunk)" - This one is everywhere. I don't know why she insists on using parentheses at all, let alone where they're unnecessary.
"Craggle-da said fabulously.", "said Bimblyboo darkly.", etc. etc. etc. - Another one that is near constant. My favorite one, which I can't find incidentally, says someone said something "importantly." If you can't express the character's emotion through good writing, AT LEAST ONCE!, maybe you should take a class rather than force-feed us how they're feeling with adverbs. Oh wait, this is a book for kids.
"Person-Stabber," and the "Get-Wetter," that dries up the puddle are from Chapter 1. Dumbledore, the inspiration for the names of my characters, uses an item called a Put-Outer, to put out the lights in the street. Okay, I can accept that. But when he uses the Put-Outer to turn the lights back ON, I did the equivalent of a reading double take. Seriously, using the Put-Outer to turn lights on is like trying to put out a fire with a box of matches.
"The storekeeper knew that he was lying, but for some reason didn't think he was telling the truth." - In Chapter 5, Harry is still having trouble accepting that he is a wizard, and wonders if the Dursely's have played a trick on him. "If Harry hadn't known that the Dursely's had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him." So, he's saying, I know it can't be a trick, and yet I believe that this guy isn't tricking me. Hmmm. Good one.
"How many?" asked Bimblyboo stupidly." - In Chapter 4, someone knocks on the door. "'Where's the cannon?' he (Dudley) said stupidly." I think this is an attempt at humor, but I don't really get it. Maybe 'cause I'm not eleven. Go figure.
"He pulled a repaired Get-Wetter out of his sleeve." In Chapter 3, she writes, "The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning." Why did she tell us it was repaired? She never told us it was broken. There was no discussion about it getting fixed. That sentence is the only reference to it being broken. Like, at all.
There's more I could go on about, but I'm already upset I spent this much time on this crap book so I'm going to end it here. My main point is that this is a book for children and adolescents, and I'm sick and tired of ADULTS heralding this book as great and amazing.
*J.K. Rowling didn't write this story, I did. Normally I wouldn't have to say this, but the people who have confused Rowling's writing style with good writing might be confused about satire.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Is it just me? Probably.
More and more as of late, I've become painfully aware that I think very differently than most people. I say most, because there are a few like minded individuals that I've encountered out there, but those people seem to be few and far between. Whether that be because people with my mindset are rare, or due to my limited exposure to the world is certainly up for debate, but really, either answer is of little consequence to my day-to-day experiences.
Please keep in mind, this is by no mean a "poor me" lamenting rant. I like to think that I have always been one to embrace my differences, even when they have been wont to cause me grief. Growing up as a non-religious, left-handed, chubby kid in Utah County, of all places, you really need to learn quickly to roll with the punches.
However, it does present it's own unique set of problems. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that, but it certainly would explain the vast majority of troubles and issues I encountered in my childhood. Whether this is a cause or a result of my battle with depression is, much like my musings above, mostly inconsequential to my current and future situation.
As a child, adolescent, teenager, one goes through life in a relatively 'stumble and bump' manner. You're either too young to grasp the complexities of social interaction, or you're too much in flux with your awkward stages to know which way is up, let alone the impact of your philosophical dogma.
As an adult though, you start to notice confused, and dare I say distressed looks. You become aware of comments that receive scorn and ridicule. And eventually, if you pay attention long enough, patterns begin to emerge. For a while there, I thought it had a lot to do with where I live. Having secular and left wing view points don't exactly place you in the "in crowd" here in Utah, believe it or not.
But, it seems that over the years, I've encountered an awful lot of people (comparatively speaking) who are originally from other states. And the same patterns seem to emerge. I would even say that the majority of issues arrive during non-political and non-religious conversations. This has led me to believe that it is not a geographical concern.
No, I am not going to give you a list of examples. Mostly because I'm not great at coming up with a case history under pressure. (STOP PRESSURING ME!) However, I'm sure if you glance at the first paragraphs of most of my posts here, both past and future, you'll likely get a feel for things.
Thank God for the internet, huh? Most of the time, I have to temper this stuff. My musings are not for the meek and the timid. Man, if I had a nickel for how many times I've been told I think too much. Of course, to that my retort has always been that most people don't think enough. Oh snap. I bet there aren't a whole lot of people out there who are interested in arguing with that assertion.
But sometimes it's difficult, in everyday life, to go with the flow. I've more or less become resigned to the fact that in order to function in society, there are things you do, and things you don't do. You DO make idle small talk, and go through the paces assuming everything is the way it is for a reason, and keep your questions to yourself. You DO NOT discuss the morality of prostitution, or the dwindling state of fossil fuels, or the concept of light based vision and temporal dilation. You DO NOT point out that obsession with celebrity and Harry Potter might not be as important as being politically aware.
Anyway, this has certainly slipped into a rambling tirade, but honestly, what did you expect from me at 12:30 in the morning on my first post back after a fourteen month hiatus? Temper your expectations people.
Please keep in mind, this is by no mean a "poor me" lamenting rant. I like to think that I have always been one to embrace my differences, even when they have been wont to cause me grief. Growing up as a non-religious, left-handed, chubby kid in Utah County, of all places, you really need to learn quickly to roll with the punches.
However, it does present it's own unique set of problems. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that, but it certainly would explain the vast majority of troubles and issues I encountered in my childhood. Whether this is a cause or a result of my battle with depression is, much like my musings above, mostly inconsequential to my current and future situation.
As a child, adolescent, teenager, one goes through life in a relatively 'stumble and bump' manner. You're either too young to grasp the complexities of social interaction, or you're too much in flux with your awkward stages to know which way is up, let alone the impact of your philosophical dogma.
As an adult though, you start to notice confused, and dare I say distressed looks. You become aware of comments that receive scorn and ridicule. And eventually, if you pay attention long enough, patterns begin to emerge. For a while there, I thought it had a lot to do with where I live. Having secular and left wing view points don't exactly place you in the "in crowd" here in Utah, believe it or not.
But, it seems that over the years, I've encountered an awful lot of people (comparatively speaking) who are originally from other states. And the same patterns seem to emerge. I would even say that the majority of issues arrive during non-political and non-religious conversations. This has led me to believe that it is not a geographical concern.
No, I am not going to give you a list of examples. Mostly because I'm not great at coming up with a case history under pressure. (STOP PRESSURING ME!) However, I'm sure if you glance at the first paragraphs of most of my posts here, both past and future, you'll likely get a feel for things.
Thank God for the internet, huh? Most of the time, I have to temper this stuff. My musings are not for the meek and the timid. Man, if I had a nickel for how many times I've been told I think too much. Of course, to that my retort has always been that most people don't think enough. Oh snap. I bet there aren't a whole lot of people out there who are interested in arguing with that assertion.
But sometimes it's difficult, in everyday life, to go with the flow. I've more or less become resigned to the fact that in order to function in society, there are things you do, and things you don't do. You DO make idle small talk, and go through the paces assuming everything is the way it is for a reason, and keep your questions to yourself. You DO NOT discuss the morality of prostitution, or the dwindling state of fossil fuels, or the concept of light based vision and temporal dilation. You DO NOT point out that obsession with celebrity and Harry Potter might not be as important as being politically aware.
Anyway, this has certainly slipped into a rambling tirade, but honestly, what did you expect from me at 12:30 in the morning on my first post back after a fourteen month hiatus? Temper your expectations people.
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