The World Crawls Up Its Own Ass Faster Than I Can Write Jokes

[Warning: inside thoughts of a creative type follow. Feel free to ignore them.]

If you’re a regular viewer of this blog you’re aware I’m slowly* writing Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels. In case the title didn’t clue you in, it’s satirical and intended for fun. It’s probably going to get me drawn and quartered whenever the woke buzzkills detect it but I’m not too worried about that. The woke can’t help themselves. They do nothing but bitch and they’ll instinctively bitch at anything fun. It feels like you could smile at a sunset and a Karen will materialize to suck the life out of you, having been drawn, vampire-like, to the scene of joy.

(Look at how Millennials and Gen Z turned on the author of Harry Potter… the most beloved book series of their youth is now a harsh political issue. Instead of fond memories of a cute story from their childhood, they’ve created another scene of scorched earth. There are a lot of people who read the story when the young adult writing of J. K. Rowling was actually age appropriate. Now I would guess they don’t read at all.)

My story started with a joke about a bear in my birdfeeder. After that the plot took on a life of its own. I’ve followed it through twists and turns and the last chapter parked the characters to the edge of the home planet of dipshits, Portland Oregon. I’ve got one or two chapters left to wrap it all up with a pretty bow. I look forward to those chapters.

Part of the story is Velma. The plot needed Velma and I enjoyed creating her. She is the counterbalance to the two main protagonists.

Billy is pretty darned sharp but also within the range we’ve all met. The sort of fellow that would inherently gravitate toward engineering only to find himself cast out of the cesspool of mediocrity that is the modern midwit university. A tragic man who would have been  welcomed with open arms some decades ago is an outsider in today’s dumbed down clown world.

Doogie is different. He’s “several standard deviations beyond the mean”. If you’ve met (or are) such a creature you know they’ll never fit in at any location or era. Doogie is so damn brilliant he likes to play mind games with sentient (and dangerous!) wildlife. His is the sort to move mental markers around the physical world as the NSA hunts for wrongthink within the realm of pure data. He might have been tolerated at a past university but is rarely welcomed anywhere.

Velma came to being because I wanted the poles of my fictional world to have balance. I also wanted to shit all over the dumbasses that think intelligence equates with dumpy, boring, nerds. (I assume that sentiment is sour grapes from the less intellectually fortunate.) Hollywood has pounded the trope to death; “She can’t be hot and smart”. With Velma, I have declared “she can be so hot your eyes fall out while possessing a brain that can vaporize your mind.” Hollywood is limited because its creative workforce is mentally limited. Thus the reliance on tropes.

Velma, like all characters, took on a life of her own. She drifted from mental risk taker to a walking undetonated nuclear bomb. I didn’t see that coming! I’m delighted. One loves to see their creations grow.

As befitting a hot, blazingly smart, shit-stirring, goddess, Velma has powers in the dark arts of bullshit. This includes her backstory with a group of siblings that are the “Scooby Doo” gang. There’s no finer bullshit that the happy, dumb, sweet, innocent, poorly animated, Hanna-Barbera, accidental hit that is (or was) Scooby-Doo. Who better than my Velma to wield the pre-programmed bullshit laid down by the Five Man Band that is Scooby-Doo? She can tap into our memories of the girl that spent her time Brain-Splaining simple plots to a stoner and his talking dog.

Alas, Hollywood digs through the graves of the past, grinds the bones it finds into a thick paste, and then smears it on the bathroom stall that is their current lack of creativity. Scooby-Doo existed from 1969 – 1976. Hacks have been squeezing that IP for the subsequent 47 years. (Not bad for a cartoon with basically one plot!) I assumed, sooner or later, someone would trash Scooby-Doo and my beloved Velma’s bullshit avatar. This year, the third or fifth or twentieth of a long panicked bullshit decline, is the year when Velma gets ruined. How unfortunate for the hot, genius, that I created.

The Drinker Recommends says that Velma is the worst thing (so far) in the shit sandwich that is modern “cinema”. I trust The Drinker.

My Velma shall soldier on alone. I knew this time would come but I hoped to have a few more years before they wrecked a happy childhood memory. Eventually all that was ever written or performed will be shit upon, but I didn’t plan for the accelerated timing.

The bummer is that it dilutes the power of bullshit, which is related to the power of shared experience. Now there are two populations in the world. Those that witnessed the real thing. And those that witnessed the undead mess that was made of its corpse and don’t know what they lost.

Allow me to draw a parallel: A few years back mobs of women appeared out of nowhere wearing a strange uniform. They were the watchers of 58 episodes of something called “The Handmaid’s Tale”. These weird women (and it was entirely women) stopped wearing pussy hats at Anti-Trump demonstrations just long enough to cosplay some sort of wish fulfillment dominance fantasy where they (women in the modern world that make up the majority of college graduates and rule almost any office job environment) are exploited victims. None of them read the 1985 book by Margaret Atwood. They don’t know the details of the book. They don’t have the mental engagement of the written word. What they saw was not what the original conveyed. I didn’t watch the TV show so I don’t know how closely the plots match, but I damn well know that no woman in 1985 wore costumes to cosplay her part in Atwood’s story.

As they upended Handmaid’s Tale they upended the simple but delightful character of Velma. The smart freckled redhead that was the integral part of a five man team 50 years ago has become a bitchy Indian single unit mocking four hapless dipshits that were (in the earlier incarnation) her friends.

Dammit. I hate to see my Velma’s small but happy bullshit connection (which was satirical but also respectful of the old stories) severed by the chainsaw of shitty narratives. Alas, it happened.

Tonight I’m going to toast my independent and fierce fictional being who’s 50 year old connection to the populace has been shredded. Lucky for me, my Velma is fearless. She has absolutely no sympathy for society, she has no remorse, her family is less a five man band than two siblings, a random stoner, a miscast dog, and her presence with the wattage turned waaaay low. My Velma has zero shits to give. Were she real, she’d see me in my cups, challenge me to a game of chess, and (when I inevitably lost) burn my house down.

If you’re of a mind, join me in a glass of bourbon to mark the moment.

A.C.

*I’m sure the slowly part is infuriating. I’ve got a day job and all that. Thank you for your patience.

About AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Adaptive Curmudgeon is handsome, brave, and wise.
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18 Responses to The World Crawls Up Its Own Ass Faster Than I Can Write Jokes

  1. FeralFerret says:

    Unfortunately what Hollyweird doesn’t f*** up they crap on.

    Your Scooby crew is much more entertaining than Hollyweird’s grotesque perversion of a classic.

  2. KurtP says:

    Don’t know if you read about it yet, but Velma is sooo bad…. that the Left is calling it Conservative psy-ops. Making fun of everything a Liberal believes, or something.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      They’re full of shit. It’s not some six dimensional chess move, it’s Hollywood sucking at what should be their job. Nobody made them fuck up, they did it to themselves… eagerly. I’m just lucky Drinker Recommends took the hit for me so I didn’t have to watch it.

  3. Tennessee Budd says:

    Indian? New Velma is a dot?
    Would that be a .Velma?

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      Apparently, but I’m not going to watch it to verify. I like my memories of the original and want to keep them intact.

  4. Terrapod says:

    I’m waiting for the finished volumes in hardback, then the screenplay. With modern CGI talking squirrels,bears and dogs are a piece of cake. This is at least a 3 movie package, original launch and 2 sequels to complete the story.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      Ha ha ha… I’d love that! If there’s ever a time when the director’s cut special edition trilogy is on streaming video I’ll have enough money for all the bourbon and dirt bike fuel a man could want.

  5. JFM says:

    When stinking piles of whatever Velma is come out of “Hollywood “. I always wonder at all the people who worked on the show, didn’t someone say “Wait, this is a flaming piece of shit!” I’m talking about the “creatives”, so called, not the crew who most likely thought “Hey a job’s a job “. Craftsmen know when they’re not doing good work. Like you with the Squirrels.
    JFM

  6. Chris Nelson says:

    > Hollywood has pounded the trope to death; “She can’t be hot and smart”.

    Gentlemen may I present an one example of hot and smart of the many: Anastasi, semiconductor engineer, tech presenter and overall cutie.

  7. Michael says:

    Do we need a Rescue Team to save you from the Activist Lesbian Squirrels?

    Too long no hear, concerned.

    Or are you involved in snow removal, over and over again.

  8. Michael says:

    Do you need my “I wanna DIE” chicken soup with kimchee recipe?

    No self-respecting bug (even COVID) sticks around from that:-)

    Seriously works so well I make it a weekly meal at my house during flu season. Kept me and my lovely bride healthy despite working in the flu war zone known as the hospital for decades.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      Chicken sounds good but kimchee might kill me right now. 🙂 Thanks for the recipe offer but I’m good.

      I’ve been handling sniffles in my own way; mostly staying near the warm fire (my house is not very warm overall). I alternate between glaring at the wall when I feel really shitty and reading a book when I’m feeling moderately shitty. That’s about it. It’s not hard to just get lots of sleep and fluids while patiently letting time do its thing.

      I suppose in the modern world I’m being damn near anti-social; what would Comrade Fauchi say about me hunkering down and “curing myself”? The “narrative” encourages us to go apeshit like some sort of toddler who’s never heard of the common cold. We’re in the third year. We saw that a “reasoned response” involved bitching about my neighbor’s heretical behavior, arresting surfers (remember that!), walking certain directions in the grocery store, wearing a bandanna for some ill defined reason, and seeking salvation through chemical concoctions sold by douchebags. Remember when otherwise sane people started posting images of an injection on Facebook? How do they feel about that now? Presumably I’ve got the sniffles so shutting down schools, businesses, churches, and supply chains are a good idea too? Lose your shit and it’s just what the Doctor ordered! I insist on treating a cold in 2023 exactly like a cold in 1980 and that’ll probably be illegal someday.

      Incidentally, I have spent many hours thinking of how weak people became almost “weaponized weak”. The entire of western society totters on the brink of collapse because mostly healthy people were too chickenshit to ride out a flu. It’s gradually cementing in people’s mind that every sore throat or cough is the beginning of the end. They’ve been trained into terror of something that’s just part of life.

      I’ve got the sniffles in January, which was once called “cold and flu season”. People who hear that think I’ll be six feet under within a fortnight. I sense once someone starts looking for the harbinger of death based on a CDC proclamation, there’s no returning to earth. Chicken soup and a cup of tea are “medicine enough” until Fauchi teaches you that you’re doomed without State intervention. I also chuckle that a vaxed teenage athlete kicking off with a heart attack “proves nothing” but a geezer like me reaching for a bottle of Nyquil “proves” that the four horsemen of the apocalypse are saddled and riding.

      Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a nap that may last until spring thaw. 🙂

  9. Michael says:

    Lol let sleeping dogs lie.

    Robert Hinlein said “it should not be a capital offense to awaken someone unnecessary, for the first offense that is “.

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