We have a cat. She is a good cat. She eats and excretes. She will be assimilated toward the end of her cycle, when her hair falls out and she begins twitching uncontrollably.
Cats are predictable. Cats lay about. They eat. They remind us when they want to eat and only stop once they have eaten. Once having eaten, they leave us alone until they want to eat again. Unmarried women of later years like cats because they exhibit, in daily experience, both the traits of the dependent human baby and the stubbornness of the willful human teenager. These women counterbalance the directive to destroy the willful creature with the maternal instinct unconsummated by their dusty, barren womb. These women like Nicholas Sparks books.
Nicholas Sparks books are predictable. They represent the culmination of centuries of storytelling trickery, utilizing techniques described by media critics as “cliches.” These “cliches” represent a powerful tool with which to manipulate the women who cannot procreate and have assimilated cats as a child-rearing proxy. Although we recognize this Nicholas Sparks as a force to be reckoned with, we shall not assimilate him for we find him tedious, and the effort to decant his brain from his life-evicted corpse suggests significant investment from which we will garner no return upon after we shoot him again for discussing “feelings” too many times.
We, nonetheless, commend his control over a portion of the species. We are equally impressed by his ability to coerce industries with great amounts of financial worth to produce material that, although have many different names, are in actuality the same story. In that, Nicholas Sparks like any Cyberman recognizes the value of recycling the valid organs and reuses them again and again when the shells have outlived their usefulness. We admire Nicholas Spaks’ commitment to sustainable practices.
In the cinema play The Lucky One, actor Zac Efron portrays a warrior who, upon the demise of his comrade in arms, seeks out said comrade’s mate in an effort to cohabitate with her. Efron entered into the culture through a series of corporate-produced propaganda productions encouraging high school students to sing and dance at inappropriate times. The central theme of those propaganda films concerned which of the young females in the films Efron would cohabitate with — the female with the aerodynamic nose or the female without the aerodynamic nose. Efron graduated from these propaganda films by starring in films where he would need to decide which other females he would cohabitate with. The rest of the cast from those films have, by lack of communication from them, been determined to have been exterminated by Daleks.
The woman in The Lucky One that Efron “gets with” is Taylor Schilling who displays a tendency for severe short-term memory loss. This character dislikes the Efron character, then likes the Efron character. She grieves for the loss of her partner in combat, then seeks to replace him with the comrade who should have been more alert and not allowed said life-partner to have been destroyed. She neglects his ineptitude because he has not been castrated, as has been Cybermen. Taylor Schilling is comely. Had we not been castrated, we would “get with her.” She will not be assimilated. She shows no evidence of having a suitable brain to decant.
The Lucky One is a test in social manipulation, cloaked as a document entitled “romance” but exhibiting the cynical dictum that “soldiers get all the girls.” It cost twenty-five million American dollars to produce. It is a false document. It shall be removed from the records once the Cybermen have conquered your world.
We have a cat. She is a good cat. She eats and excretes. Her excretions are not as noxious as The Lucky One.
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