The Stranger gets stranger and stranger still

There has been much discussion on one of the most famous scenes in The Stranger. Yes, the one where Mersault decides that it's a good idea to shoot a guy five times in broad daylight. For reference: 

"Beneath a veil of brine and tears my eyes were blinded; I was conscious only of the cymbals of the sun clashing on my skull . . . The trigger gave, and the smooth underbelly of the butt jogged my palm . . . I fired four shots more into the inert body . . . And each successive shot was another loud, fateful rap on the door of my undoing."

What was Mersault's true motivation? So goes the question. My theory is simple -- bitch be crazy. Here are some of the ways in which his mind might have snapped:

--

CAUSE-EFFECT FAIL

Mersault: Damn, it's hot outside. 

Vendor: Some ice cream, sir? 

Mersault: KILL THE ARAB. 

--

SONG INTERPRETATION FAIL 

Mersault: It's getting hot in here... so I take out my gun... 

The Arab: I -- am -- getting so hot -- he's gonna blow my head ooooff!

--

SYMBOLISM FAIL 

Mersault: Sun! Sun! Whatever could it mean? Hmm. Carefree Happiness or Fateful Rap On The Door Of My Undoing? 

English Student: Well, I think happiness -- 

Mersault: You're right. Too easy. Bam! Bam bam bam bam! Now watch my life go down the toilet.   

--

DICK CHENEY FAIL 

Mersault: The sun. It was bright orange. The color... compelled me... to shoot... 

Judge: This is such a joke. 

--

SHAKESPEARE FAIL 

Mersault: But soft! What light through yonder seaside aches? It is the East, and I have a gun.

The Arab: I really think you're more of a Hamlet.

--

SEX APPEAL FAIL

Mersault: Marie seems to like my peculiarities. If I shoot this guy five times and blame it on the heat --

Marie: OH BABY. 

Mersault: It's sexy time. 

--

PHILOSOPHY FAIL 

Philosophy Student: So you believe in passive indifference to the world around you? 

Mersault: Yes. 

Philosophy Student: HOW IS SHOOTING THAT GUY FIVE TIMES PASSIVE INDIFFERENCE?

Mersault: ... 

--

CULTURE FAIL 

Judge: But why? Why five times? 

Mersault: Monsieur, I am French. Overkeel is our specialty, ees eet not? 

Judge: ...Can't argue with that.

--

Oh, Mersault. Such a charming young man. 

(Small note: The Arab really is referred to as "The Arab." I'd give him a nicer name, but I think it would interfere with Camus' wah-wah-the-universe-sux-and-none-of-us-matter existentialist shtick. And, you know. I'd hate to disrespect literature.)

What do Jay Gatsby and Lil Mama have in common?

So much more than you thought.

Before venturing down to my bastardized lyrics, I suggest you take a look at Lil Mama's "Lip Gloss." 

I love this video more than anyone will ever know. I love it so much that I tried combining it with one of my favorite fucked up protagonists. And you know what? It kind of worked. Give it up for my homegirl, The Great Gatsby.

- -

WOLFSHEIM
Jay, what's wrong?

GATSBY
Wolfsheim, I just want to be a part of the cool crowd... I just feel like I don't have what it takes...

WOLFSHEIM
I have something here for you. Gambling? It worked for me.

GATSBY
The champagne is poppin', it's poppin', it's poppin', it's poppin'
(I gotta bootleg, cuz if I don't
It's over).

Nick, what you know 'bout me?
What you what you know 'bout me?
What you know 'bout me?

NICK
Are we really out to lunch?

GATSBY
They say my parties are cool
My champagne be poppin'
I'm standing at the entrance
And all the guests keep stoppin'

What you know 'bout me?
What you what you know 'bout me?
What you know 'bout me?
What you what you know?!

They say my champagne is poppin'
My champagne is cool
All the guests need proppin'
I dunk them in my pool!

DAISY
Tom, I don't know if we should stay...

GATSBY
Satin shirts and silver, yep, 'cause I'm worth it
Love the way I puts them on so perfect
Deal with these bitches so I can work it
When I walk down the hall, well...

NICK
They think you're a murderer.

GATSBY
Oh, oh, oh, my suits so luscious
Damn it all, nothing rhymes with luscious.

NICK
You're a perfectionist, but Daisy blushes?

GATSBY
That's 'cuz I make all the ladies have crushes!

What you know 'bout me?
What you what you know 'bout me?
What you know 'bout me?
What you what you know?!

They say my parties are cool
My champagne be poppin'
I'm standing at the entrance
And all the guests keep stoppin'

What you know 'bout me?
What you what you know 'bout me?
What you know 'bout me?
What you what you know?!

They say my champagne is poppin'
My champagne is cool
All the guests need proppin'
I dunk them in my pool!

When it's time for lunch
My suits still rock
Lil Great Gatsby with tha hot pink top
Brandy, vodka
Flavors is a virtual -- they,
Lovin', booze is universal!
West Eggers like it, East Eggers hate
Rollin' they eyes at my estate
It ain't my fault but I could upgrade ya
Show you how to be a little bourgeois!

TOM
Uh, no thanks.

GATSBY 
The champagne is poppin', it's poppin', it's poppin', it's poppin'
The champagne is poppin', it's poppin', it's poppin', it's poppin'

Sittin' in my house
Guess Daisy don't love me -- 

DAISY
Nope.

GATSBY
Oh... um. This is awkward. 

DAISY

[Excruciatingly long and aristocratic pause]

GATSBY

Blast these currents. I'm borne back ceaselessly into tacky hip hop.

Capturing the essence of Holden Caulfield

This title might bring to mind vials, syringes, and other tools of that nature. Let me assure you that I would never do something so disgusting to represent a literary work.

(Not in this post, anyway.)

During a mock legislative session -- this is what I do with my summers, you see -- my friend passed me a note that, in an excitingly brief manner, managed to encompass the complex themes of The Catcher in the Rye.

I don't have a scanner, but I think an approximate representation will do.

--

SIDE 1:

Catcher in the Rye Fan Fic
SEX, PHONICS & NEW YORK
"Changed me life!" - Every Student
[Insert shoddily drawn pictures of cigs and alc]

SIDE 2:

Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
Phony phony phony phony phony phony phony phony
phony phony phony phony phony I don't like phonies.
I like my sister. She isn't a phony.
That really gets me.

--

Brilliant interpretation.

A Separate Peace: rampant heterosexuality abounds

In honor of the California Supreme Court's recent decision regarding prop 8, I'm covering a novel that celebrates exactly the sort of thing prop 8 is all about.

Obviously, it was no contest. A Separate Peace simply fit every criterion I was looking for. It's common knowledge that all-male boarding schools are hotbeds of good old-fashioned woman-lovin'.

Although I could commemorate the court's decision in a verbal manner, I thought my message would be conveyed more powerfully with the help of some visuals.

And thus, I present to you, three possible movie posters for John Knowles' A Separate Peace. Each covers a main theme of the book:


FEAR!




FRIENDSHIP!




HEARTFELT SORROW!




Yeah... traditional marriage = the shit, basically.

No one likes Tess of the d'Urbervilles

It's really funny, because every single English teacher I've had has tried to convince me that this is a work of great significance and weight. And I usually sort of agree with my English teachers.

NOOOOOT THIS TIME!

Significance (n):
A term attributed to a book whose useless symbolism catapults it toward the 600 page zone, where it is instantly deemed a work of genius.

Weight (n):
A term attributed to a book whose whiny, self-deprecating characters make you want to kill yourself with a very heavy anvil.

Anyway...

When you nix the fluff, the core story fits onto one page, give or take (but mostly take). My friend and I felt the need to present this tale of significance and weight in a more easily digestible format:

The mad-lib.

And that's all you will ever, ever need to know.

Moby Dick meets The Lonely Island

By word choice alone, it kind of sounds like a good combination... but no.

Observe:

Moby Dick is a classic American novel detailing the struggles of a man who boards a whaling vessel, only to face the most poignant emotional challenge of his life:

A fucking whale.

What?

Anyway, then there's that video Andy Samberg was in, and it pretty much follows the same plot:

Everyone is on a boat.













Except for that one loser who ends up at Kinko's.

So what happens when you combine these two things with my crappy Photoshop skills?



My work here is done.

Romeo and Juliet: I guess adolescent stupidity is pretty tragic

Montague servant: blind hatred!
Capulet servant: blind hatred back at you, mothafucka!
Montague servant: bitch, I'll cut yo white Italian ass.
Capulet servant: oh, gurrrrl! Tybalt, hold my earrings.
Tybalt: I love the glorious whiff of senseless violence in the morning.
Benvolio: please stop?
Prince: if your families continue fighting, something TERRIBLE will happen. TERRIBLE. ENGLISH STUDENTS, THIS IS FORESHADOWING.

Montague: Romeo is moping around like a dumb emo bitch. Please put him out of his misery before he makes a mix tape.
Benvolio: kay.

Benvolio: Romeo. Romeo. Really, man?
Romeo: shit, I love Rosaline but our love can't be real unless she puts out... I think I'll make her a mix --
Benvolio: NO. You are coming to a party. And will you please cut your hair?
Romeo: my atrociously long bangs hide me from the cold, cruel nature of this world.

Paris: I can has Juliet's hand in marriage?
Capulet: woah there, creeper! She's THIRTEEN! You will have to wait!
Paris: until what age?
Capulet: like... fourteen.
Paris: oh hay that makes sense.

Capulet: darling, how do you feel about marriage?
Juliet: that's creepy! I'm THIRTEEN!
Capulet: maybe you can force yourself to love this guy named Paris.
Juliet: I love the fifteenth century.

Mercutio: my character > this play.
All The Bitches: WE LOVE YOU WE LOVE YOU WE LOVE YOU.
Mercutio: I know, ladies. I know.

Romeo: fuck this party. I'm going to make Rosaline a mix -- hold up. Who's that?
Juliet: oh my gosh! Maybe I do want to get married!
Romeo: you're hot.
Juliet: Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone! I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run! You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess! It's a love story, baby just say yes!
Romeo: do you put out? (He leaps over a fence) but soft! What light through yonder window breaks! It is the East, and you are hot! Like a SUN!
Benvolio: fuck my life.

Romeo: so can I marry a thirteen-year-old I met today in secret?
Friar: Vegas style, huh? Luckily I have some Elvis gear behind the crucifix.

Tybalt: VIOLENCE VIOLENCE BLIND HATRED VIOLENCE!!!!!!
Romeo: no thanks.
Tybalt: what?! I KEEL YOU!!!
Mercutio: (he dies. The play becomes significantly less entertaining.)
Romeo: oh shit. I guess that means I KEEL YOU TOO!!!
Tybalt: (he dies. One would think the play would become significantly less senseless and violent, but hoo boy, we've just hit the beginning.)
Romeo: well, I'm officially not just an idiot but a murder. Banishment time!

Juliet: Romeo killed my cousin, oh no!
Nurse: whatever. A fine ass piece of meat like that ain't gonna come around every day. Stop channeling Taylor Swift and start channeling Tila Tequila.
Juliet: good point. I like to fuck, every day, ever night... I like to fuck, when it's wrong, when it's right...
Romeo: except it's always wrong because you're thirteen. Too bad! Let us consummate our day-old marriage, my little sex kitten.
Juliet: oh baby, consummate it harder.

Plot break in which everything goes to shit

Romeo: Juliet is dead! I will weep! I will scatter flowers! I will make her cold, dead body a mix -- PARIS! I KEEL YOU!!!
Paris: shittiest role ever.
Romeo: and now I KEEL MYSELF!!!
Juliet: my plan fell through? Goodness, I thought pretending to be dead without explaining the guise to my significant other would be foolproof. Oh well, it just goes to show that even the most meticulous, sanely constructed plans fall through sometimes. What's the most effective way to kill myself?
Friar: you know, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.
Juliet: (ignoring him) I guess I can kiss Romeo's lips; I was always sort of into necrophilia.

Capulet: weep! We must find a constructive way to deal with this calamity!
Montague: I know -- let's erect a statue forever glorifying teenage idiocy.

High school teachers: this is not a comedy. No. Nothing about the ending of this play is remotely funny.
Students: FALSE.