"V"

Hello, Mary's Blog Fans. Mary's husband here. I'm taking over the keys to the blog today. I noticed this new TV show "V" is a remake of an 80s show by the same name. Remember that one? This one seems the same with updates. Here are my thoughts on the new V show and my predictions:

It is all pretty predictable--and that Nazi-like allegory is still there. The son of the main character is signed up to be part of the "Hitler Youth" and I'm sure will eventually sell out his own mother to the "V's"

In fact, Here's how the rest of the series will go:

* The son will develop a romantic (albeit one-sided) relationship with the hot little blonde V as he continues to lie to his mom about being involved.

* As she leads him on, he begins to rise up in the ranks and gains more V trust.

* Eventually, the hot little blonde V will start to show some feelings for him, and reveal the truth of her reptilian heart, OR, she will go all psycho on his arse and reveal how she used him like the tool he is--THEN reveal her reptilian side. Either way, THAT is when this tool will realize Mom was right all along.

* Meanwhile, the younger priest will become more involved in the underground resistance--helping to lead it and gaining intel from the FBI agent. Also-- The priest will at some point end up killing his older Priest mentor--who is actually a V himself.

* The turning point will be when a large portion of the population realizes the true intent of the V's (to turn us into soylent green), and a V revolt erupts. That revolt willl involve the internet and hackers (because using the internet can solve anything) taking over tv stations for a worlwide broadcast of some video evidence that the V's are lying about who and what they are and why they are here. That might be the black guy ripping the human skin off his reptilian arm live on camera.

* By now, the jilted son has switched sides and provides valuable intel about the V embassy so the resistance can blow it up, which they do almost simultaneous to the "Here is the Real V" tv broadcast. Result: chaos and mass anti-V sentiment ending with multiple attacks against V's, (with lots of scenes of 15 year old cars getting blown up) and prompting the V's to use their superior weaponry in defense.

* Season-ending cliff-hanger scene will be of the cute bitch V leader with a nasty pissed off Nancy-Pelosi looking expression (or maybe Hillary) telling the weaselly reporter that if the humans want war, the V's will bring it.


...and there will be no season 2

I Hate Cats.

Hello Mary's blog fans... This is her husband. I've hijacked her blog to post a story from our early days when Mary tried to turn me into a cat lover. This was before we had kids and here is the story that cinched up my true feelings about cats:

Cats SUCK!

Way back in the olden days, My wife and I had a cat that was part siamese. A true little bastard, we named him Sh**ty kitty. Well, Sh**ty Kitty had a psychotic hatred of buttons. In particular, it would attack the buttons on this ugly vinyl-upholstered headboard in this little apartment we were in. One by one, the buttons would be brutally attacked and ripped right out of the headboard. To see this was actually shocking. The power and viciousness was really amazing. Those buttons didn't stand a chance.

One morning, as it was getting light in the room, I was laying there in bed flat on my back and I felt the cat jump up on the foot of the bed--not unusual as it often liked to lay on my wife's hair. I wasn't really awake--just mildly aware of the cat stepping up slowly towards the middle of the bed. Then I felt it give that little wiggle--you know--the wiggle in it's rear end it gives just prior to it pouncing on something. Of course, I knew that another button was about to get brutally attacked and ripped from the headboard.

I felt the cat leap from near my knees. It pounced on a new sort of button I guess. That dirty little bastard attacked my NIPPLE! Teeth and front claws, all deeply embedded into my man-nipple, while rear claws scratched and kicked for leverage to remove the "button" from my chest.

I had been sleeping peacefully, but this pain brought me to a new level of immediate alertness I had not experienced before. A deep, guttural and primal man-scream came from my mouth. I was shocked by the ferocity and volume of these sounds from deep inside me, as my hands came alive and went straight for the throat of Sh**ty Kitty.

As my hands wrapped around the throat of that cat, the feline teeth came out of my flesh, the claws disembarked from my areola, rear legs and back claws shifted focus and now prepared to target my arms.

Perhaps you have seen cats fly. I know I have. One cat named Sh**ty Kitty flew 15 feet that morning. It hit the wall about 6 feet up, landed on it's feet, then turned and looked back at me as if to say "What the hell is wrong with you?--I nearly had it!"

It took some time, but my left nipple did recover. What has never been restored is an ounce of faith in anything feline. I hate cats.