In the next several days, I hope to expend some typing time on things I’m reading/watching that I’m really excited about or have really loved recently, as well as a line or two about why I feel like actively plugging these things. So eager to rave am I that I even came up with a Superman story that’s pretty good. Before I do that, though, I have to share with you the unlocked mystery of Da Vinci’s Code:

It turns out that the Mona Lisa is not smiling. She is laughing. She is laughing at you for buying this stupid f***ing book.

Unbearable. Chapter 20, and they’re still standing in the goddamn Louvre men’s room talking? About symbology? Symbology employed by a man who, while bleeding to death in chapter one, used his own corpse to make a piece of performance art more well planned out in the last ten minutes of his life than some surprise parties?

And nobody in the book can ever say anything.

normal book: “I’m fleeing the Louvre as a fugitive!” he said.

Da Vinci Code: “I’m fleeing the Louvre as a fugitive, and this is an actual line from the book!” Robert Langdon verbed floridly adverbly adverbly, like Harrison Ford would.

They said the book was plagiarized, but they didn’t mention it was plagiarized from Mad Libs, he ejaculated ruggedly, his harris tweed rustling wistfully.

Ugh. Ugh! America: you’re all crazy. A friend of mine recently asked,

Why is it that when someone enjoys a movie that I don’t, I immediately feel angry, upset, as though the world is completely upside down?

I am on that wavelength. It’s not that I dislike the book; it makes me angry that people like it. Gah– it’s– gahhh.