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Showing posts with label parody. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parody. Show all posts

Friday, October 2, 2009

A Grete Loathesome Vampyre

Gentils all, yt doth give me grete pleasure to note that Geoffry Chaucer doth blog once more. Geoff hath been occupied of late, as haue many a wyffe and damsel, with the readinge of the teenage sparklie vampyre romaunce, the Vespers series.
The oonly thyng that semeth to plese Philippa thes dayes are thos large bookes of teenage sparklie vampyre romaunce, so ich decyded to reade oon of them.

And knowe ye what, lordinges? Yt was actuallie pretty decent.

Sure, the prose kynd of maketh Dives et Pauper look lyk George Orwelle, but the storie pulleth me yn. Yt maketh me feele lyk Ich am XVtene agayne and “Just Lyk Hevene” hath come upon the radio. Once a goth, alweys a goth (Ich am talkinge to you, Spain).

In this fyne book of sparklie vampyres, Bella Cygne moveth from Essex to Yorkshyre to lyve with her fathir, who ys a sheriff and escheator. At a scole ful of recentlie coyned stereotypes, she witnesseth the fayre skyn and fashion-sprede slow-mocioun hotenesse of the Cu Chulainn clan, the which have all eaten long ago of the magical Irisshe Salmon of Really Good Hair (oon byte of this magical salmon and ye shal have good hair for evir). Aftir Bella doth see the hottest of the clan, Edward, stop a wagon wyth hys bare handes, fight off twentie churles, and brood so much he did make Angel look lyk Mister Rogeres, she doth realise that the Cu Chulainns are vampyres. But they are good vampyres, who drinke wyne. Ther is considerablie moore sexual tensioun than in Piers Plowman.
Geoff stoppeth not at Vespers, but proceedeth to rede Compline and Matins. Ich haue muchel curiosity as to the title of book quatre of the series. Is it yclept Prime, or doth Dame Meyers cut straight to the chase and give thys book the nomination Sext?

Forsooth, it almost maketh me desire to rede of this sparklie book Vespers. Almost.

Also: Geoffrey Chaucer giveth thanks for the complimentes of hys good rederes, but is much put out by an interrupcioun from a jakke-asse yclept Quanje Weste.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Spartans on a Plane

And now, for your TGIF delectation: United 300.



Having recently seen 300, I have to say that this is just funny. Beverages, monitor -- you know the drill.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Cross-over Fiction

Fanfic that must never be penned:

You may know her as the bright-eyed Victorian beauty popularized by the American Girl series, but by 1912 Samantha Parkington was a seductive 18-year-old heiress traveling home from her European Grand Tour. Educated, liberated, and uninhibited, she had turned heads across the continent, but not until the voyage home did she meet her match in the capable arms of the son of the 15th Duke of Denver, 22-year-old Lord Peter Wimsey. (Peter, a recent Oxford graduate, has been sent to America by his uncle to forget the flighty but beautiful Barbara.) The ship on which their passions ignite? A vessel as immense as their desires, the majestic, unsinkable Titanic.

Dear Lord, stop us now...

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Life's burning question answered

And that question is, "What if the Beatles were Irish?"



Tip of the black hat to Man With Black Hat.