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Mike Reyes, aka Mr. Controversy, has considered himself a writer ever since he was a child. He wrote for various school publications from about 1995 until 2006, and currently runs both The Bookish Kind and Mr. Controversy, which is an offshoot of the regular column he wrote in High School. He's also authored several short stories such as "The Devil's Comedian", "The Devil v. George W. Bush", and most recently "Wait Until Tomorrow". He resides in New Jersey. Any inquiries for reprinting, writing services, or general contact, should be forwarded to: michaelreyes72@hotmail.com

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Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Children's Storytime: A survivor's account of the Sex in the City premiere in New York.

Warning: This is a work of fiction, but I wouldn't be surprised if it ever happened. I posted this cautionary tale on Aint It Cool News's message boards for the film, and I decided to expand upon this tale of horror to maximize the message. The review that inspired this is at the following address: www.aintitcool.com/node/36892. If you're not into "message pieces" then just read the following statement/plea for decency: Guys, prevent Hollywood from making a sequel to the Sex in the City movie and refuse to take your significant other to see this film. Failure to do so will bolster their ticket sales, seeing as you're paying for TWO admissions to a shitty film, and in turn will boost the opening weekend's grosses. We have the power to stop this. Do it for the good of the nation, and the good of your reproductive organs.

It was a beautiful evening in New York. All of the stars were out to premiere a lackluster film with a pink carpet, instead of a red one. Though, if anyone had prior knowledge to what was about to happen, they'd have stuck with a red carpet.

The director and cast stood in front of the audience, making small talk about the film. All of a sudden, SJP herself seemed seized with some sort of evil spirit, she began to speak in tongues. Her aged compatriots joined in her madness. The evil SheDemon then commanded all the women in the audience to seal the "chamber" and to offer a sacrifice to them. She demanded every man's scrotum, so that they would be silent during her "masterpiece". Chaos ensued as every woman in the room, under the spell of this singularly headed Hydra proceeded to separate the poor men from their manliness, and leave them to lie in freshly castrated heaps. A mighty roar was unleashed, and SJP used her Hulk arms to rip off the director's genitalia, his screams were predictably effeminate and ineffective. As all of the women chanted in sinster sounding Latin, the Head Bitch herself screamed, "BLOOD ORGY!"

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and on horseback were George Clooney, Jack Nicholson, and Harrison Ford. The Crusaders of Manliness were here! With a triumphant yell, George had lead the charge to slay the SheBeast known as Sarah Jessica Parker. Just as he was about to decapitate her with an Epic Martini Glass, she grew 50 feet tall. As she laughed horrifically into the night, Jack threw a vine made of the film about to be shown into the audience and Harrison Ford caught it. He swung up to the top of the SheBeast, and as he reached her head he punched her square in the nose. A loud rumbling emanated from her face, and her wails of pain started to fill the room, breaking the spell of all the women present. They ran out of the theater, dragging those they dragged to the theater straight away from it. SheBeast shrank back down to her normal height, and started sobbing. She was ready to be taken away and incarcerated for her crimes against humanity.


But she'd never stand trial, because a headshot from Kiefer Sutherland would deliver all of the justice needed in the world, as it always has and as it always will.


The End

The lesson of today's story: Epic shit like this that masquerades as feminism triggers my male juvenile reflexes, and causes me to write a story of epic violence and hero worship. Replace the violence with slut sex, and you have the Sex and the City film. I know, I already bitched about this once before, but the world keeps turning and this film continues to exist. So, my hatred of it will continue to exist.

P.S. Big Dies. Sex and stupidity follow for the remainder of the TWO AND A HALF HOURS you will be sitting in a theatre, and I just saved you your money. Now go see Indiana Jones again.

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