Die Hard 3: Try Harder (The Novelization)

Die Hard 3 is one of cinema’s biggest piles of shit (Disagree? You’re wrong.), which is hardly surprising since it didn’t even start out as a Die Hard movie. See, the original plan was for Part 3 to feature terrorists seizing a cruise ship, only to run afoul of a vacationing Die Hard, and by all indications ("all indications" being the sentence I just wrote) it would’ve been awesome. Unfortunately, some assholes went and made the movie Under Siege, which was basically the same thing, so naturally they dropped that idea because Hollywood would never release two movies with a remarkably similar premise all but simultaneously. Instead, they took some random script nobody could be bothered with up to that point, cut/pasted Die Hard’s name into it, and shot that, completely ignoring the fact that the script in question was criminally retarded. I mean, come the fuck on - the big gimmick is that the bad guy baffles the entire NYC police force with riddles we all learned in grade school. Cops may be a lot of things (slack-asses, corrupt, thugs), but they aren’t stupid. It’s like laziness and hackwork had a baby, and then it shit all over you while you were holding it. Die Hard with an Anus does feature one brilliant scene though: the jaw-dropping bit where Die Hard is walking through Harlem wearing a sandwich board and it’s suddenly revealed that the sandwich board says "I hate niggers". So how does the novelization handle this tense yet hilarious scene? By bitching out and having the sign read "I hate everybody".

What. The. FUCK???

Look, I get it. As an African American myself (hey, as far as you know), I hate the N word too. And if that’s your beef, fine, have the sign say "I hate black people" or something. But don’t set the whole thing up and then punk out entirely at the last second, especially when you have no problem using racial slurs against white people just a few sentences later. Fucking hypocrite. Seriously, how swollen does your vagina have to be to turn you into such a sniveling, PC cunt? (Oh, and don’t try to pretend you changed this scene to protect the reader from "spoilers". If someone didn’t want a movie spoiled for them, they wouldn’t be reading the goddamned novelization.)

And it’s not like the writing gets any better as the story progresses. At one point Die Hard yells "Bomb!" and we’re told nobody is impressed because they’re jaded New Yorkers. Then, 23 pages later, he yells "Bomb!" again (it’s a different bomb) and everyone panics because "This was New York. Anything was possible." Does the author really think that we aren’t going to remember what he said just a few pages ago? How dumb does he think we are? Fuck you, asshole.

So this book licks bung, but it may still be of interest to some people, because like a lot of movie novelizations it contains scenes that weren’t included in the final version of the film, including the original ending where Die Hard and the main bad guy play Russian roulette with a rocket launcher. (This ending is incredibly stupid, by the way.) For my money though, the guy who wrote this ("D. Chiel", obviously a made-up name. Or part of one, anyway.) should stick to subjects he’s more familiar with. Maybe he could write a book called "Cry Hard".

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I also write books. Check ‘em out.

Choose Your Own Adventure 138: Dinosaur Island, By Edward Packard (1993)

If you'll read any dumb shit, go on to the next page.

If you'd rather toss this in the trash and then kick Edward Packard square in the dick, turn to page 63.

There's no denying that some of the Choose Your Own Adventure books are classics. The second one, Journey Under the Sea, for example, is fucking ill, with multiple, crazy plots and some seriously brutal endings. (IIRC, in one you end up with the bends after being ass-raped by mermen from Atlantis.) Sadly though, after a while the series really started to coast, and this one, #138 for Christ's sake, is just a lazy-ass ripoff of Jurassic Park, right down to the way the bad guy obtains the dinosaur DNA he needs to kick the whole thing off in the first place. His mind-bogglingly idiotic plan? Well, in some if not all permutations of the story it runs something like this:

1. Clone real, living dinosaurs
2. Make a movie featuring said dinosaurs, in secret, on the island where they're all contained (this movie would probably ultimately be released by the Asylum)
3. Blow up the dinosaurs so that no one else can obtain footage of them
4. Rake in one billion dollars in worldwide film rentals

Fun Fact: That was also the original script for Jurassic Park III

Oh, and did I mention the fact that the bad guy is willing to kill people in order to perpetrate this jaw-droppingly moronic, ass-backwards scheme??? Seriously, outside of the Remington Steele James Bonds, have you ever heard a megalomaniacal plan this goddamned stupid in your entire fucking life? Christ, even a child could come up with better uses for living, breathing dinosaurs (cf. various installments of Calvin and Hobbes). And as if that isn't bad enough, for a Choose Your Own Adventure this book is pretty niggardly when it comes to the chooses. Er, choices. One path, for example, is twelve pages long and you only get to make one choice along the way! Seriously, this installment is such a monumental hose job that it actually makes the copycat Time Machine series (where every choice was a winner, so as not to hurt anyone's feelings) look positively badass by comparison. It's no surprise that the kids who grew up with these books tend to cherish the early entries and even re-read them as adults, but the truth is I found this one on the floor at the thrift store, and they said I could have it for free. Seriously, Edward ass-Packard, if you were just gonna phone it in, why didn't you try choosing a new career instead?

Let's make this one little more interactive. What are your favorite (and least favorite) Choose Your Own Adventures? Bonus points for name-checking Twistaplot and/or Which Way Books.

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If you'd like to buy one of Mr. Satanism's books, turn to page 666. If you'd rather not buy one of his books, then fuck you.

Time Machine 24: World War I Flying Ace, By Richard Mueller (1988)

Okay, this book is just like a Choose Your Own Adventure™©®™, except it looks like we might have a problem before the adventure even begins:

Are you kidding me? What's the point of going back in time if you're not allowed to kill anybody or freak out the primitive dipshits in, say, medieval times or the 1970s? Next they'll be telling us we shouldn't get drunk or tap any historical ass either. Fuck that. If you ask me, there's only three rules for going back in time and here they are:

1. Don't kill anybody with the same last name as you
2. If you do anything to change the past -- even just stepping on one butterfly in dinosaur times -- the Nazis will win the war
3. Back to the Future Part III sucked ass compared to the first two

So fucking lame.

Anyway, this book wants you to find out who shot down the Red Baron (I'm pretty sure it was Snoopy, but you know historians, they always want proof and shit). So fine, I'm going back in time to solve the mystery... (You'll have to imagine the colored lights, or do like I did and drop half a tab before you start reading.) Okay, first it says I can take a pocketknife or some matches with me. How about a gun, you fucking assholes? And why can't I take both? There's seriously no room in the time machine for a pocketknife and matches? You goddamned idiots. Fine, I'll take the knife. At least then I can stab somebody in the throat if I have to. So I'm making all these choices, blah blah blah... It looks like they're trying to sneak some learning in here too, so you might want to watch out for that... Hey, they're giving me the option to go to a pub! Now that's more like it - this time travel shit is thirsty business. Now I'm at the pub and... Holy piss! The fucking Nazis are bombing it! I thought you weren't supposed to bomb hospitals and pubs! War really is hell I guess. At any rate, I manage to survive the bombs and I keep making choices and... Holy shit! I won! And on the first try too! Ha ha ha ha! Bow before Mr. Satanism! You've been owned, World War Part 1! Before I throw this away though I need to flip through and tell you what the worst way you could die is... let's see... Hey - there's only one ending! And there's no way to lose or die! Are you fucking kidding me???? What the hell kind of Choose Your Own Adventure is this??? I'll bet you any amount of money and/or pussy that the people who came up with this were all "If kids lose they'll have low self-esteem, so we'll make every choice a winner!" You know why kids today are such goddamned pussies? Because of shit like this. Seriously, I think this book might just be the fucking epitome of weak. I'll tell you what time it is, Time Machine - it's time to pull your head out of your ass and suck my fucking balls. Then we'll see who has low self-esteem.

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This book sucks it. Read one of mine instead.

She-Devil, By Lois Horowitz (1989)

The first thing the astute reader will notice about this novel is that the description on the back seems to say a lot, but doesn't actually tell you what the book is about. This is totally appropriate though, because as it turns out this book isn't about anything; it just rambles on and on for hundreds of pages, and to make the experience even more painful a good half of it is so clunkily written that it's literally difficult to read. Yup, this book wastes no time in sucking shit, and it's full of dumb mistakes, too. For example, it begins with this guy seeing a traffic accident on his way TO work, but in the next chapter he's late getting home because the accident happened on his way back FROM work. Proofread much, you lazy shits? And some parts are just insultingly stupid, like the assertion that, if a man is dead, there's no way to confirm who he was when he was alive, not even by showing his totally non-mutilated body to his own fucking wife or, I dunno, the guys from CSI: Des Moines or something.

All lies.

Of course the dialogue is laughably retarded. "Did you know that everyone has eight great-grandparents?" asks the main chick at one point. Really? She must be a mathematical savant to have figured that one out. This comes up, incidentally, because the main chick is into genealogy (clearly identifying her as both a tiresome bore and a superficial, empty-headed twat), and this, in turn, is important (in the loosest sense of the word, obviously) because, ultimately, this is a horror novel about genealogy, almost certainly the most un-frightening thing a horror novel could possibly be about. Unless you're a huge racist who's terrified of finding out that one of your ancestors was black, I suppose. Honestly, genealogy is so fucking pointless. I mean sure, after weeks of diligent research you could very well learn that you're distantly related to Benjamin Franklin or Elvira or something, but how will this change the fact that you're currently squatting in an abandoned trailer park and spent your last income tax return on meth, lottery tickets, and an abortion? The real literary crime here though is that this entire book is just killing time; nothing of consequence happens until the very, very end, and overall it feels like it was written by someone who's heard of horror novels, and has sort of an idea what kind of shit might go down in one, but has never actually read one in their entire fucking life. Seriously, stick to genealogy, Lois Horowitz, because writing books that aren't about who once fucked your drunken flapper grandmother back in the Roaring Twenties is obviously way, way out of your league.

Oh, and by the way, it was me. I fucked her. And she liked it.

Yep, granny was quite the dish in her day, a real Sheba
with gams up to her neck and a chassis that just
wouldn't quit. And how. Now you're on the trolley.

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Buy my books, ya piker. They're nifty; the bee's knees, don'cha know.

505 Unbelievably Stupid Web Pages (2nd Edition), By Dan Crowley (2007)

Okay, before anyone asks the obvious question, no, my blog is not listed in this book. And fuck you.

Now that that's cleared up, let me start by saying that the cat who wrote this is a complete fucking tool. He isn't funny, he's more out-of-touch than your parents, and he seems to think that calling something weird when it's obviously meant to be weird is like this huge revelation and he's some sort of genius for pointing it out. Imagine a really square old dude making fun of "those crazy kids" and laughing at his own jokes while everyone else just stares at him because he doesn't have a fucking clue what he's talking about and you'll understand what reading this book is like. The first time my grandma surfed the Internet she sort of had this guy's attitude (except her comments were funnier), but she got over it after a day or so. Because she's not a goddamned idiot.

Don't take my word for it though. Let's check out some of Dan Crowley's brilliant observations:

This site is extremely stupid...

This site is so stupid...

I am very confused about this one. That makes it stupid in my opinion.

These videos are stupid...

Tomatoes are stupid.

Wow, what wordplay. What insight. Look out, Mark Twain!

As if his cretinous, obvious comments aren't enough, he also rates every website for "abnormality", "stupidity", and "entertainment", not that his ratings are consistent or have any meaning whatsoever. Like, how is a site that tells you what your phone number spells (which could actually be useful if you wanted to request the number BIG-DICK or something) "stupider" than a site that claims Santa Claus is the Devil? Seriously, Crowley, you fucking suck. I think I'm going to borrow your rating system to rate your book:

ABNORMALITY: 3    STUPIDITY: 10    ENTERTAINMENT: 0

Do the world a favor and never write anything again. Unless it's a suicide note.

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Want to read a book that doesn't suck shit? Consider one of mine.

V: Below the Threshold, By Allen Wold (1988)

This book is based on the original V television series, which may pique the interest of a select subset of nerds but don't be fooled, because it's the very definition of a ripoff. Churned out well past even the tail-end of the whole V phenomenon, it reeks of "Quick, write a V novel before people forget about V!" There's tons of sentences that make little or no sense contextually, obvious typos, and at least one part where the writer specifically refers back to something that he forgot to mention previously. As a result, it reads like one of those e-books people self-publish via Amazon, and I hate that shit. The worst thing about it though is the story, if you can call a guy walking around, taking the same meeting multiple times, talking on the phone, and repeatedly eating at Wendy's a "story". Seriously, for the first 100 pages or so absolutely nothing happens, and if you're an old fan of the show there's definitely no V action, whatever that was exactly. IIRC, it was mostly watching aliens eat gerbils and jerking it to the actresses who played "Diana" and "Lydia". I was a Lydia man, myself.

Er, they seemed hotter in the '80s.

Here's an example of what I'm talking about: in one part, our main guy goes to bed, decides he needs a drink, gets up, fixes his drink, heads back to the bedroom, remembers that he left his gun in the kitchen, goes back to the kitchen to retrieve it, and then finally returns to his bedroom for a third time. I'm not kidding, it's like the writer was paid by the letter, and when shit finally does pop off in the final pages it's still not very interesting or reminiscent of V at all. In fact, with a little find & replace this could easily be a (shitty) crime/light sci-fi novel that has nothing to do with V whatsoever. I'm gonna keep my eyes peeled for Wild Wild West: Below the Threshold or Alien Nation: Below the Threshold or maybe even ALF: Below the Threshold. I guarantee this generic money-grab has been repurposed somewhere, before if not since.

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Like this blog? Then buy one of my books. How about this one?

At Risk, By Patricia Cornwell (2006)

Most stories about other people are written as if they already happened, like this:

Patricia read her credit card statement again. She couldn't believe it, but the truth was undeniable. The man she loved was a con artist. She balled the statement up and threw it across the room. Then she fixed herself a drink, cried for a while, and finally called the police. They were lucky this time; he was still in town, and they quickly apprehended him. "Seducing Patricia Cornwell just to steal her credit card number, was it really worth it?" the detective asked. "No," said Mr. Satanism, and puked.
Pretty basic, right? Every once in a while though, you'll run across one that's written as if it's happening right this second, like this:

Patricia reads her credit card statement again. She can't believe it, but the truth is undeniable. The man she loves is a con artist. She balls the statement up and throws it across the room. Then she fixes herself a drink, cries for a while, and finally calls the police. They are lucky this time; he's still in town, and they quickly apprehend him. "Seducing Patricia Cornwell just to steal her credit card number, was it really worth it?" the detective asks. "No," says Mr. Satanism, and pukes.

As you can see, this is super annoying and distracting, and there's really only two reasons to do it: 1) to be pretentious, or 2) to hide the fact that you can't write for shit.

Guess which category Patricia Cornwell falls under?

The story is your basic CSI type crap about solving some old crone's murder (no, not Patricia Cornwell, some other old crone). Here's the main cop's three major personality traits:

1. He's a bully. It's okay though, because he only pushes around the sort of people that the middle-aged women who read these books would hate and/or be afraid of, like punk rock kids and foreigners.

2. He hates women. If a chick is more successful than him, he gives her a demeaning nickname. If she isn't, he totally takes advantage of her. Not sexual advantage, I'm talking like getting her to run his errands and shit.

3. He flaunts all these designer clothes and all this expensive furniture, then brags about how he got it all off eBay or at Big Lots or something. So he's materialistic and a cheapskate.

Obviously this guy is a raging piece of shit, but for some fucked-up reason the book acts like we're supposed to like him. As for the story, it's complete garbage. Most of the "action" is people sorting through file folders; the murder they're supposed to be working on barely even comes up until the very end, at which point they suddenly solve it in two seconds Encyclopedia Brown style; and, just to make things extra fucking stupid, the main cop's mom has ESP, because as we all know ESP is totally real and everybody knows somebody who has it.

The cover of my copy says that this was a "#1 New York Times Bestseller". Seriously, America, you suck.

Addendum: Astoundingly, this piece of crap was actually made into a movie. To read my review of that, check out my book Lifetime Movies... for Men, available on Amazon. It's part of the free preview, so if you're too damn cheap to download the entire book, just click on "Look Inside!" and scroll down until you come to "At Risk (2010)".