Chelsea Gaither's Blog, page 73

Book Bitch: Mission Earth IS STILL HERE

We are FINALLY at the halfway mark people. Two weeks of bitching at three chapters a go and we're only JUST NOW making it to the halfway mark.

"Bristling with excitement" my fat ass.

So what is on the deck for today?

*reads ahead*

Oh god. This part.

Okay, before we go much further, let me recap what's going on. I haven't done one of these in a couple of days. *deep breath*

Earth doesn't exist, but it is critical to the Voltarian invasion campaign anyway. Jettero Heller is Space Elvis, and the only person who can help Earth be Rescued From Ourselves. Soltan Gris is our narrator and he fails at EVERYTHING, and Hubbard has so far managed to be racist AND mysogynist AT THE SAME TIME. Also, Jettero's girlfriend looks like this:

And acts like this:




So what happens next?!?

Well, remember when Soltan tried to cheat Jettero out of all his money, and got cheated himself? OF COURSE NOT. IN NO OTHER BOOK WOULD THIS BE A THING. But it is a thing in this book. Soltan Gris, our narrator, now has no money. He decides to scam Murder Guard out of money, because the Murder Guard smuggled the Countess Krak into Jet's new tug boat/space ship.

And then Hubbard does something that would make the unfunny cut kitty cry.

Murder Guard has to explain how the got the Countess out, see. And his story starts with the words "there was this transvestite."

See, in the Voltarian worlds, anybody sexually deviant is disposed of. The trucks that transport them are called "garbage trawlers" and on this particular one was somebody who looked a lot like the Countess. Only it's a he. His name is Tweek. He is saved ONLY so the Countess and Jet can christen his new tug boat. Which I think they are doing right now.

Way to treat other human beings with dignity, Ron.

To make the story short (too late) Soltan fails at aquiring money. He can't get any from Murder Guard, from the driver who did work for Jettero, or from his own employer. And because he doesn't even have money to buy food or water (apparently no one on Voltair heard of water fountains) he halucinates a turkish dancing girl bringing him food.

Because an alien from another galexy would do that.

Oh, but Soltan has been trained in the evil art of psychology. This is what he attributes his great success in the CIA to. Psychology.

HELLO STRAWMAN! WE HAVE FOUND YOU AT LAST. It only took you THREE HUNDRED AND TWO FUCKING PAGES to show up. 

And then...oh you have got to be fucking kidding me. TWICE? In THREE CHAPTERS? CAN YOU PLEASE KNOCK THIS SHIT OFF RON? No? Please? No, we're really doing this?

*sigh*

Soltan realizes once he's on Earth with Space Elvis, he'll have no way to get information from Voltar. How does he solve this? He finds two gay guys in the CIA. Two guys named "Too-Too" and "Oh, dear". Oh, wait. These are nicknames. What wonderful, dignified names has Ron provided for Soltan's two latest victims?

Twolah and Odur. ODUR. As in ODOR. As in stinky. Does this get worse?

Oh, yes. It gets worse. The two are going to travel two and from Earth. And when one is in transit, the other one is supposed to seduce the old gay guy from wayyyyyyyyy back in the beginning. The Councilman we all forgot about. And then they are supposed to switch places. And if they don't do it, Soltan will kill their mothers. See, he has used psychology to deduce this important fact: men love their mothers. They agree. Scene over!

You know what bugs me about this? You know Twilight? Gay people don't exist in Twilight. They are never brought up. They are never mentioned. Because it is not okay to be gay in the Mormon church and Stephenie Meyer would rather not deal with it. there is another Church where it is not okay to be gay either, and while we're not naming it everybody reading this should know exactly which one it is. And it does not get any better from here on out, folks.

It also doesn't get any more amusing. That's our three chapters, and I need to go to bed. You guys take care.

Oh God.

Guys! GUYS! GUYS!

I JUST BOUGHT THE SECOND MISSION EARTH BOOK AND IT IS SO MUCH WORSE THAN THE FIRST.

Oh my God. I should have thought about it. I should have realized it. IT SHOULD HAVE REGISTERED IN MY BRAIN. The guy was DEAD before the second book could come out. EVERYTHING FROM THIS POINT ON WILL HAVE BEEN EDITED BY HIS DEDICATED WORSHIPPERS AND NOT BY HIM.

Also? The theology of the Church We Shall Not Name? It appears by the second chapter. HE EXPLAINS THINGS. HUBBARD EXPLAINS THINGS.

I'm going to go over into a corner and start rocking and sobbing silently to myself now.

Book Bitch: Mission Earth 1

Obligatory plug first, kiddos. Silver Bullet is still free, and the coupon code is GX35X. Go get your copy.

Okay, so where were we?

Right. Ron was being an inadvertent racist. What adventure are we going to have today?

Jettero Heller buys a tug boat.

I'm serious. That's all that happens for the next six chapters. First chapter, they leave the prison and travel. Next chapter, they reach the Fleet Reserve and Jettero picks out Tug One, a tug boat that has the biggest engines in the fleet. Because Jet-boy likes speed.

That's gonna get real ironic near the end of the book, which we are, sadly, STILL not nearly halfway to.

Also the tug boat has engines that will probably blow up. Because the tug boat is mostly engine. It uses Will-Be Was engine drives, which have something to do with time, and....yeah, Ron should never be allowed to name anything EVER AGAIN. Yes, I know he's dead. We need to be proactive about this.

Next chapter? They sign paperwork. For the whole chapter. Because this is an exciting book. PAPERWORK!

Next chapter: They fly the boat to the dry docks.

Next chapter: They start cleaning the boat. People recognise Jet because he is Space Elvis. Soltan realizes this could be bad because he and Jettero are supposed to be back on Earth (remember, there is a mission and it involves Earth and we are not doing it because fuck if I know) and he starts to sweat both the fact that he's not gone and that he has no money.

Next Chapter: The Countess Krak arrives.

Next chapter: Jet shows off his new boat and gives the Countess more clothes. This chapter also showcases more of Ron's songwriting skills, and having actually listened to a recording of the man singing, I am so glad I can spare you from the nightmare that is "Lepertige Lady"

You know, when I told certain IRL friends I was reading this series, they looked me in the face and said, dead serious, I need to read Battlefield Earth because it is a great book. It is a wonderful book. It is one of the best sci-fi books they have ever read. I've only read two of Hubbard's books, this one and a tiny part of Old Doc Methusaluh and I can say this: His writing is consistent. VERY consistent. As in I can predict that Battlefield is just as much of a brick, probably just as fucking bloated, and probably just as likely to make us listen to the characters having sex while the narrator obsesses over money.

And like I said yesterday, I do not get this series at all. I understand it, but why would Hubbard write this? WHY WOULD HE PUBLISH THIS? I can see him trying to make the whole "psychology is bad" arguement fly, but kids, you could take certain characters out (IE Lombar Hisst) and put certain IRL people in and the story would not change at all. I will not say who those people are, but holy bleeding hell I did not know that your subconsious could bleed all over a page like this.

He did not write this intentionally. There is no way he would have. This whole book is screaming "Throw shit at the wall and see what sticks" style writing.

...what else do you want me to say? It's basically six chapters about buying a car. YOU try to make it entertaining. I am going to bed.

TOMORROW: Soltan Gris halucinates money.

Soda Wars

Dear Mike Bloomberg,

Thank you for joining the ranks of morons like the rape-senator from Missouri who think that you can legislate morality.

I sincerely hope that is what you are trying to do. Just as I sincerely hope that people on anti-abortion platforms want to save babies, and that people pushing Obama-care through really do want to give us better health care. Your efforts are going to be misused something awful, but I hope to God your heart, at least, is in the right place.

Because if it's not you are a son of a bitch who should never go near a political campaign ever again, let alone actively hold office.

Yes. I know it's just New York and not Texas. I know it's just a big gulp. It doesn't look like my fight. It is. Because now everybody else in the country has seen that you can get away with this shit. You can control what the population does, as long as you tell them its for their own good. And now somebody else, somewhere, is going to try it. And then somebody is going to try to do it with something that isn't soda. Maybe it'll be goth clothes or shirts that say "fuck you" on the front. Because shit like this is not about doing what is right for people. It is about controlling the population's behavior.

I don't care if it's a soda, abortion, smoking, drinking, tattoos, hair cuts, eye exams or a doctor's exam. NO FORM OF GOVERNMENT SHOULD TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO WITH MY OWN BODY. And when they do, it's not for my own good. It's never for my own good. It's because they want to control me, how I think, feel, spend money, and what I do. And when you can dress a control play up in a pretty hat, like "it's for the babies" or "it's for your health" you've won half the battle right there.

I am pro-life AND pro-choice, children. I think that abortion is wrong, but I think the idea of letting Uncle Sam decide what I can and can't do is much more frightening than the idea of dead babies.

I'm gonna add pro-soda pop to the list now, too. It's a dumb as fuck thing to have to write a blog post about, but it's a dumb-as-fuck thing for somebody to be writing legislation about.

Can we please stop doing this? Please?

Book Bitch: Mission Earth 1

<---Obligatory self plug first. The Freebie code is GX35X 

I am plugging the book because the next two lil books I'm releasing (In October and November/December, depending on when I decide to take time off from this thing) will pick up DIRECTLY where two of these stories leave off. So you might want to read that book.

Okay, so where were we.

...Right. Sitting out in the hall. Thanks Ron. Thanks a ton.

So after we listen to the main character have sex--LISTEN, mind. We see nothing becasue we're not even in the fucking room--we get back to a theme of Soltan Gris is a failure. The narrator is trying to defeat the book's antagonist, but he can't because he is SPACE ELVIS, And I really need to just do this now and get it over with:

 Look, I don't know anything about how valuable Hubbard's philosophy was (actually, I know a great deal about it, but I am TRYING to keep the Church That Shall Not Be Named out of this flog) but in his writing? He kind of takes his subconsious and vomits it all over a plate. The value of this book is NOT the plot. It's NOT the romance, it's NOT how interesting sex looks when you're listening to it through a wall (yes. I AM going to bring that up a lot. HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO YOUR READERS, RON? HOW CAN YOU?) It's the fact that once you crack the covers on this book, you are looking directly into the mind of a founder of a major religion. And it is amazing. Scary and disturbing as fuck, but very educational.

So what happens to Ron's self inserts today?

Soltan argues with a computer. And loses. Again.

Oh, but he finds out that Jettero's weakness is GAMBLING. And he sets up one of the evil murder evil evil guards to gamble ALLLLLLLL Jettero's money away so that he can't spend any more on the Countess Krak and will have to go into space because bankruptcy, I guess. Only the loaded dice Soltan gives Evil Guard fail, and Soltan ends up losing a years worth of paycheck in a game of dice that he isn't even playing in.

And I am flabbergasted by this scene. No, I am truely amazed by it, and the plot sequence to follow. I have no freaking clue why Hubbard chose to write this book the way he did. The Gor novels, I get. Eternal Prey, I get. The book about having sex with a lake? Asexuals exist, and they need porn too. But...okay. You're not going to get why this is so astoundingly weird unless you know at least a LITTLE bit about L. Ron Hubbard's life. There is a book out there called A Piece of Blue Sky. Go find it, go read it, come back here, and OH MY FUCKING GOD you will realize how deep we are inside of Hubbard's head.

And the thing is?  I don't think he intended to do it. Hubbard is not that good at writing. Oh, he's good, don't get me wrong, but if he were that good, Ladies and Gents, he would have had Jettero as his main character. This is Hubbard's subconsious screaming THIS IS WHO YOU ARE, STUPID, and I honestly don't think he was listening. It's like S. Meyer's strong Mormon theology in Twilight. It's there. It is a thing. But she doesn't have the subtly to have pulled that off. Trust me. Nobody tries to write a morality play and makes their male lead a fucking pedophile stalker at the same time.

Okay, back to the flog:

Now, it may not look like I've reviewed much, but this whole sequence: the dice, the failing, Soltan Gris becoming hugely in debit and moaning about how he has no money? It took three whole chapters. Which is what my usual reviews have been. But I see no reason at all to pad my blog as much as Hubbard does his book (and thank all your lucky stars I've spared you more of his poetry) we're going to continue. And the next part...Okay, let me preface this with a direct quote from the man himself. In fact, I am linking directly to the book I got the quote from, and I REALLY recommend you guys read the whole thing. It is Hubbard's biography, pretty well researched, and it is facinating. This is what Hubbard said about China. These are his actual words:

"They smell of all the baths they didn't take. The trouble with China is, there are too many chinks here"

In his defence, and I can't believe I'm saying that, he was seventeen. I said some pretty disgusting things about gays when I was ninteen (which I no longer believe in, and someday I'll write that up.) (and before we go any further, to the homosexual community in general: I AM VERY VERY SORRY THAT I WAS A PIG WHEN I WAS YOUNGER. I NO LONGER FEEL THAT WAY AND WILL BE HAPPY TO ABASE MYSELF FOR SEVERAL HOURS IF IT WILL MAKE UP FOR BEING SAID PIG)

So, got that memorized?


 In the next chapter, as part of a circus freak show, the Countess is training a primate and something Hubbard describes only as a "yellow man." You get no description of the "yellow-man" where he is not directly compared to the ape. All this thing is, is a brute. And he almost kills the trainer (who allowed the slave to get a neck lock on him. TSTL trainer) and is stopped by Heller. And then, when Jet-boy leaves, the "yellow-man" goes the Countess and says (text reproduced EXACTLY as written):

"You keep that (bleepard) Heller away from me or I'll break his (bleeping) neck!"

I've been putting up with this through the whole book, people. The whole fucking book. Also note: the "yellow-man" is provided no  humanity. But he can talk, and he can swear, and he is saying this after Jet-boy nearly killed him. So this isn't a brute. This IS a human being...or, you know, sentient being, given the whole alien thing. But it is a being with thoughts and feelings and whatever, that is identified only using a racial slur for the Chinese.

And then the Countess fucking straight up kills the "yellow-man". Specifically for insulting Jet. What does she say when she finds out that she just cold-bloodedly beat a man to death? "That'll teach him not to threaten Jettero!"

I. am. in. awe. of. this. 

Oh, it is fucking morally reprehensible. We have a white woman (as established by the "Earth-Caucasians are our direct relations" sequence) straight up murdering a creature identified only by a racial slur for the Chinese because the...sigh..."yellow-man" insulted her white love interest's honor. Not because any actual hurting of the white man went down. No. The yellow-man insulted Jet's honor, and the Countess defended him, and everyone is supposed to be okay with this. 

Why did Hubbard write this? I am serious. Why in the name of all things holy did he write this scene? It serves no purpose in the book whatsoever, it doesn't evolve anyone's character, it purely exists so a white woman can defend her white man by beating up a brown person. Later on in the chapter the Countess apologizes to Heller for ruining the boots he had given her. While she was killing the yellow-man. to defend his honor. And they go back to their epic plan to rescue the defendants of Prince Caucalsia and his colony of Atalanta.

Let me repeat this sequence of events.

-A white woman. Kills a brown person. For insulting a white man.

-And then she apologizes to said white man for ruining the boots he gave her while she was killing this brown person.

-And then they go back to planning their rescue of the caucasian race of Earth.

This exists in a book written by the founder of a major religion in the last year of his life. Please explain how this is a thing.
 
TOMORROW: Jettero rents a tug. For several chapters.

Seriously. That's all that happens. Jettero rents a tug. I've just reviewed the next...hold on. (counts) SIX FUCKING CHAPTERS RON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???? SIX CHAPTERS ON A SPACE SHIP oh who the fuck am I kidding. He spent ten years sailing around the Atlantic ocean with his own private navy. I should be glad we don't get an account of every fucking rivet.

Be here tomorrow, kids, where we find out if CW can make renting a fucking tug boat entertaining.

State of the CW

So. Mission Earth flogging WILL continue tomorrow (oh god) but we need to take a break for a moment and discuss the boring stuff. Or whatever.

First up: God, you guys are awesome. The response to Starbleached has been better than I expected. Not hugely wonderful OMG I CANNOT BELEIVE THIS I have hope now awesome, but I know that, as of right now? Half of my regular readers have a copy. That is kick ass. Please tell me how you feel about it. Also? The books sold, not the books bought during the freebie peroid, the books I have actually gotten money for, account for, like, a third of that. And if you do not have a copy, go get one. I plan on continuing that story, I am SO INCREDIBLY PROUD of that story, please please please please PLEASE let me share the awesomeness of that story with you.

Okay. Next up: Blue Ghosts is the next lil book in line. This is an Exiles story. What is Exiles? The Exiles are Faerie creatures trapped on Earth. Yes, kids. Paranormal romance involving Faeries and ghosts and the Lexington , one of the coolest locations in Corpus Christi. Casey Winter and Marco Creed investigate a ghost. Who may not be a ghost. It's complicated. And it's due out in October! It picks up where Silver Bullet left off.

Also, November/December (depending on wheither or not I take a months break from this self-imposed publishing schedule) will also pick up from where a Silver Bullet story left off. As in, minutes after it ended.  And because I know that very few of you have read Silver Bullet, much as it pains me to do it, Silver Bullet is free on Smashwords until October 13th. Code is GX35X
  
As for how I'm doing...I am not doing good. 

I am hugely, monumentally, cataclysmically depressed. Which is not good when you have a history of S/I issues. I am dealing, my friends. I am dealing. But it is hard. This month (as mentioned in the Mission Earth flog where I kind of got personal issues all over our happy fun times) does not make it easy. But the hardest part has been accepting something really, really hard.

I'm not writing this part now because I want to flail and moan and cry. I'm writing it because I believe that it needs to be written. Because it's a part of a story that hasn't ended yet. But I want this to be here, where everybody can see it, so that in a year, or two or ten, when this is over, I can point over here and say, this is where I was going, this is where I ended up.

I'm putting a cut here, because once again I'm about to get personal stuff all over the fun place.So once more, here's the unfunny cut kitty:

If you don't want to get sad and depressed, ignore the cut and watch the kitty.


I'm working on accepting that I am not, and never will be, talented enough to be a professional writer. And I can already hear the eye rolling through the screen. I know you guys like my writing (otherwise you wouldn't be here) I know you have a knee-jerk response to me bellyaching about my life. Most of you are my friends and family. I love you. I get it. Knock it off.

What brought me to this conclusion was not what any one person said. Not any one rejection. Not any one single thing. It was...

...sigh...

I'm a Christian, okay? Most of you know this. I'm a pretty big, devout one. I don't put it all over where the public can see it, in part because it squicks people out and in part I know (because my boss is this way) that mentioning religion turns some people's brains off. But I believe that God sets things up, and I've kind of learned to notice when things are being set up, because it's kind of like watching a pool hustler set up a bank shot. 

So in April I got a chance to do a thing. And someday, when I have more time between it and me and the other principal parties, I will elaborate on what that thing was (I am actually a little ashamed of how the whole thing turned out). Suffice to say that at the start of The Chance, I knew I would not get to do The Thing. The Thing was, in fact, completely and utterly beyond my capability to acheive. Because Things like this Thing do not happen to me. I do not win things. I do not get recognised for acheivements (usually because I do not acheive things). I am not complaining. I am stating the facts. If there is a thing to be done you can bet I will do it wrong. 

But this time? I got the Chance. I won it, as a matter of fact. I was blown away. And I knew that if the Thing worked out, the end result would be a published book, maybe. Everything lined up. I could see the bank shot. If there is a hand of God and it does move, it was moving then. There is no way God was not behind what happened. I should not have gotten that Chance, I should not have gotten the Chance to the point where I could actually do The Thing (It involved an awful lot of money) and it all just worked out beautifully.

Except, you know, for the Thing itself. That fell apart. The person behind the Thing, who was as nice as they could possibly be, very gently informed me that I have no talent, that there is no value in my writing, and that the best thing I could do is give up.

THEY DID NOT WORD IT LIKE THAT. They were, and are, the most incredibly nice person you could ever hope to meet, I respect them so much. But people lie when they say nice things. They never say "this is crap". They say "This could use a lot of work" and then hunker down and hope you don't throw something at them. 

I've spent six months trying to figure out what this was about. NOT WHAT THE PERSON WITH THE THING SAID. That's just one person's opinion, it doesn't matter, I shouldn't read so much into it, ect. ect. ect. ect I have heard all of this before. 

No. What I've been trying to figure out is this: why God would allow me to even have that chance in the first place, why he would set things up and let me finally have part of what I've wanted my whole life...if the end result is just gonna be the same old failure. It would have been just as easy for him to let me not win the Chance in the first place. Because that's the part I can't get over. It's not what the person said. It's that it happened the way it did. And I have come to the following conclusion. 

Either I am wrong about God, wrong about the way God works, wrong about everything that I believe, or writing is not what God wants me to do. 

And God knows the only way to make me stop writing is to have me fail so hard and so strongly that I stop wanting to do it. I have to come to a point where my well-being is so challenged my my desire to write, I have to turn away from it. And while I'm not there yet, that point is not all that far off. I don't feel like God is telling me to stop writing. What I feel like is that God is telling me to go through this, exactly the way I am doing it, until I reach the point where I feel I have no choice but to quit.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe a hail mary pass will come out of the ether at the last minute and save my dream. I don't know. Maybe the people who have been looking at my book for a solid year (And who sent me "we're still thinking about it" e-mails back when I was actually following up on query letters) will make a decision and that decision will swing my way. 

I don't see that happening. And writing has become a thing that is so very, very toxic for me, the only thing I can do if it isn't going to be successful (and I mean immediately successful) is give it up. And the only way I can ever give it up is to become so sick of it, so dissapointed in it and in myself, that I just plain don't want to do it anymore. 

And that's where I'm going.

So, all that said? I'm going to make you guys some promises:

1. I'm going to keep self-publishing the little books for at least the next year. Starbleached will continue for at least another six books, Exiles and the Winterlord stories...I think I'm going to pick up the pace on those a little bit, but those are going to happen too.

2. There are three Exiles novels. Full leingth, 90K average per book. They are already written. All three will need SERIOUS revisions, as the Exiles storyline has kind of fucked up most of the first book, and I haven't edited the other two yet, but I will self publish all three. You all will get to read them.

3. I have an unfinished YA book involving dragons. I am finishing it in November, for NaNo, which is why I'm probably not going to release anything in November (that, and I need the break). I will self publish that one too. Probably this time next year, if everything goes well.

This means that you guys WILL, I promise, be seeing writing from me for the next two to three years minimum. I need to get it out of my system, and above everything else, above wanting money, wanting to get out of my GOD FUCKING AWFUL JOB, I want these stories to exist. Part of me will be satisfied that these books will exist, and they will be in your heads as well as mine. So four novels, minimum, and a whole bunch of fun little books you can finish in a weekend.  

And hopefully by then I can move on with my life. Everything will be tied up and finished with a neat little bow, and we will all be happy. 

Remember this. It is the plan. 

(AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT TELL ME THAT I SHOULD KEEP ON TRYING. PLEASE. Please oh please oh please. If I were persuing a man the way I've been chasing my books every one of you would tell me "Stop that shit right now, it is not healthy". I don't get why it's alright to be obsessive about anything, period. I know that it is not PC to talk about giving up on dreams and moving on to better things, but that is what I have to do so that I can move on to those better things. I am trying to enjoy my life, not feel even more like a failure and a shit than I already do.  PLEASE DO NOT RUB MORE SALT IN THE WOUND. I love you guys. I know you love me too. But this is just something that I have to do for me. Peace, out.)

Book Bitch:Mission Earth 1

Okay, first off, Obligatory self-plug:

 Starbleached is live on Amazon now. So if you didn't get a chance to grab a copy from Smashwords for some reason, drop on by and snag a copy.

Okay. On to review. 

Oooooooh friends. OOOOOOOOOH. We're here. we're finally at the chapter I HAVE BEEN WAITING THIS WHOLE REVIEW FOR. Get ready folks. It's going to be at the tail end of this but OH MY GOD, guys...this is the suck of all sucks.

Hubbard's choice of viewpoint character is becoming increasingly baffling to me. Soltan Gris does not do shit in this book. The interesting things are happening to Jettero Heller. The interesting thoughts are happening to Jettero Heller. We should be inside of Jettero Heller's head. And we are not. And the more I read this book, the more I question Hubbard's choice.

Okay, where were we?

...right. Our narrator has just puked on himself. Again...why is this guy our viewpoint char?

The first line in our next chapter is:

In my room, Heller got my clothes off me...

Bow. chicka. wow. wow.

Yes, my loyal faithful blog-readers. The first paragraph of this chapter is all the slash fodder you could ever need. Also, Jettero goes through Soltan's pockets, containing all the incriminating info about Earth. Which I already know Jettero just read. The guy is smarter than anybody else alive, he's subtle (save for pickup lines) and he has to know that the bad guys are up to something. In fact, I've got one thing to say to our narrator:

So while Jettero goes through Soltan's pockets, Soltan tries not to puke. Huh, there must have been something in Dr. Crobe's offices. Something micro if you get my drift.

Next chapter.

Soltan gets a present! It's a snake. And Countess Krak.

Hey, Ron? Naming your doctor after germs makes me highly suspicious reguarding the Countess's name. Just sayin'. 

Alright, so they smuggle the Countess up to Soltan's bedroom, because for some reason Jettero is going to be staying here tonight. And Jettero has pink champagne sparklewater. (For fuck's sake, Ron, we are not fourteen. It's fucking BOOZE) and he and the Countess discuss...oh god.

Okay, kids. fasten your seatbelt. See, there is this myth about a Prince Caucalsia and his magical colony Atalanta. And he has his own folk song, which is unbelieviably stupid. (Seriously. I refuse to reproduce it here. If you're curious go find a used copy of this shit and look it up.) And they point out that there are Caucasians on Earth. And a magical city of Atlantis. So the Caucasian race on Earth must be descended from the advanced aliens that founded Atlantis! WOW! Hey, Ron?


 Thank you. So after this startling revelation is made, The Countess and Jettero give Soltan a look. A look that means Hey, can we borrow your bed? But surely, surely Space Elvis isn't about to--

 "Are there any empty cubicles along the passageway where you could sleep?"

--He is. He's throwing our narrator out of his bed so that he and his girlfriend can...

Oh my god. No.

A buckle clinked on the floor. 

Ron. Please. For the love of God, humanity, and little green apples, please...

There was a creak of the bed...then her voice, plainly heard, "You will have to be careful with me, darling. I have never had a man before."

No virgin ever in the history of the universe ever said--what the fuck am I doing. RON! PLEASE MOVE THE VIEWPOINT CHARACTER OUT OF EARSHOT BEFORE YOUR MAIN CHARACTERS START TO--

"Oh, Jet."

 "Oh, Jet. Oh, Jet, oh, Jetohjet Oh JET!"






Dear Lafayette Ron Hubbard,

You have done something spectacular. Something no other writer has ever done before. You have turned me from a well reasoned, intelligant human being looking for a thing of minimal entertainment, and have turned me into that guy in the hotel room right next to the newlyweds. THANK YOU, RON. I TOTALLY NEEDED TO LISTEN TO YOUR CHARACTERS HAVE SEX. IT TOTALLY MADE MY DAY.


I would say fuck you, but it's a little redundant at this point.

Also the evil-murder-evil-evil guards basically do the touchdown sign every time the Countess has an orgasm. I am SO glad we're sitting out in the hall. Soltan Gris elects to go sleep on the floor out of earshot.

Why are we following this guy around again?

Book Bitch: Mission Earth 1

So to recap: Space Elvis, Hubbard can't do women's issues, Soltan Gris can't win a fight with a machine, Earth doesn't exist, yada yadda yadda, you get the drill. We're on to Part Four of this brick, children. Part Four. And we are nowhere near the halfway point.

Okay, first off Hubbard has to remind us that Soltan is writing this catalogue of stupidity from jail. Why he chooses to slow down a book that is already a fucking brick of molasses is beyond me. But he does.

Next chapter.

Soltan returns to Spiteos to discover that it is being cleaned. And that Countess Krak has taken a bath and is now wearing clothes. And they are clean. Okay, it's a coverall, but at least she's not flopping around in her altogethers. She's even washed her hair. 

Yes, loyal blog-readers. Space Elvis has given the Countess Krak something to live for. The thought of his penis has lifted her out of her evil-murder-evil-evil ways and driven her to such depths of self-abasement as bathing.

Do I need to remind you that she's a virgin?

Jesus Christ, Ron. Did they skip subtly when you went to college?

Wait. This is the guy that got into a shooting war with a magnetic deposit. Of course they did.

 Then she proves that she is no longer evil by refusing to work with people who are maimed. And then she almost murders Soltan because he sat in Jettero's chair. And then she makes Soltan brush up on his English. (Ugh, remember this.) And then Jettero gives the Countess clothes.

This is probably the first ligitimately good thing I've seen Space Elvis do in this book. Because the Countess has been kept in a prison being guarded by psychotic murderers without any clothing of her own whatsoever. The reason why she wears that jacket and shoes and nothing else? Because other than the coverall, that is all she owns. A jacket. A pair of shoes. And what I imagine to be the lower half of a haz-mat suit are the only things she is given to wear when her guards are Voltarian serial rapists. I think I would be kind of crazy by now, too. And I would definately be flipping out as hard as she does right now. In this context, Jett isn't just  giving her pretty things to play with. He's giving her back control over her own body. In a way, he's giving her back part of her humanity.

Is this how it's presented by Ron the Magnificant? Nope. It's 100% Girl With Shinies and awww, isn't Jet nice for giving this poor girl something pretty to wear.

Next chapter.

Soltan goes to get Jettero and hears him singing softly to himself in his cell. He realizes they are in lurve, ladies and gents. Lurve. And the description of the type of people who sing love songs is like...wow, Ron. Just wow. See, they sing about UNREQUITED LOVE. They paint their faces BLACK and "by means of tubes"  weep literal tears of blood. So L. Ron Hubbard did get one prediction right. He predicted the existance of goths way back in 1985. You go, dude.

He reminds Jett about their next appointment with the Countess, then gets called away on a message that isn't really a message. And when he gets back...

They're dancing. Together. And then he kisses her. Because we couldn't see this coming from eighteen billion light years away.

You know, romance isn't fun to read about when your VP char is neither of the two characters falling in love. It kind of makes you feel like the guy stuck in the hall 'cause his roomie put a sock on the doorknob. But Ron wouldn't know anything about that, now would he?

Next Chapter:

Soltan takes Jett down for his appointment with the freak-making Dr. Crobe. (Oh Jesus, I just realized...MI-crobe. GOD DAMMIT RON! USE SOME CREATIVITY!) only to become nausious at the very thought of operating on Space Elvis. But this is only the preliminary exam, so Soltan just has to suck it up and deal with it. Which is weird, he thinks, because he never had a problem with blood before.

Dr. Crobe tells Jettero to eat lots of hamburgers and drink beer.

I think he could have figured this out on his own.

And then Jett notices that, hey, certain kinds of people from Earth look like him! Not all of them. Just...certain kinds. Could he please have a book with a certain folk tale in it? He gets it, and looks up the legand of Prince Caucalsia and his colony of Atalanta. WOW! WHAT A THING! and nobody else is excited.

If you don't see it yet, don't worry. It gets much more blatant very soon.

Then Crobe, tired of playing spot the racist with Hubbard's self insert, explains that they'll probably have to lop a few inches off the top of Jettero's bones, because hey, he's the Earth equivilant of ninteen fucking years old, and he's already too tall for his racial type.

For fuck's sake, Ron. Name him Kal-El and get it over with, K?

Anyway, the point of this whole chapter is...Soltan Gris pukes on himself.

Our narrator just threw up at the thought of blood.

This is truly a book for the ages. 

Blog Bitch: Mission Earth 1

Okay! happy happy fun times are back.

Or not. Because we're still reading Mission Earth.



When we last left our heroes: Jettero Heller is Space Elvis, the Countess Krak is a Bondage Disney Princess, Soltan and his organization are the DUMBEST FUCKING MORONS ON EARTH VOLTAN, We Earthlings must be Rescued From Ourselves by Space Elvis, L. Ron Hubbard fails at writing about women's issues, and I kind of got private drama all over the place yesterday. What happens next?

NOTHING.

The next three chapters contribute nothing to this book. We are doing them anyway, because you want me to (you do, right?) but there is nothing to this at all. You could cut them out of the book and the plot would be better off.

 First up! Soltan has to punish the guard that brought Jettero food for...bringing Jettero food.

It is exactly this exciting:



The end result of this? We find out that Soltan fails at punishing guards, and that Jettero is a saint.

Next chapter! Soltan argues with a machine!



End result? Soltan fails at arguing with machines, and we see again, that Jettero is a saint (and that you can have scientists and spaceships and be able to learn languages in thirty fucking seconds and still have AIs that are dumber than this guy:



Next Chapter:Soltan Gris signs a paper.

That is the whole purpose of this scene. SOLTAN GRIS SIGNS A PAPER. THERE IS. A WHOLE CHAPTER. DEDICATED. TO SIGNING. A PAPER.
And I am sad to say that you do need to remember this. It is a shipment from Earth. It is the reason the DUMBEST FUCKING MORONS ON VOLTAN are interested in Earth. Got it? Good.

Here's something that is actually entertaining to take the bad taste out of your mouth:

Book Bitch: Mission Earth 1 (TRIGGER WARNING)

So I've been writing these things first thing in the morning, lately. It lets me get the day started on the right foot, because I am that kind of bitch, and also it gets the badness out of the way first.

HOWEVER, yesterday (today) was Sunday. And I work on Sunday mornings. Those of you who have read my blog a long time will know that I work for a boss who is sometimes...difficult. This, compounded with the CITY WIDE POWER OUTAGE yesterday afternoon means that I am writing this at midnight.

When I am also pretty damn drunk. Because I can be. I don't have to go anywhere on Monday, and usually I wind up buying a bottle of something new anyway (One of my hobbies is alcohol, a side effect of a boss who, more often than not, hands me something monsterously intoxicating and says "Try this". I have a very large collection of liquor, mostly fancy things like St. Germaine) and today the Boss was difficult. (and by difficult I mean she called at least one person a retard because we didn't notice where she'd moved the brooms to this week). So I am medicating.

And I am glad I am drunk. I need to be, to make it through these chapters without killing somebody. Ron has pissed me off today, my friends. Oh, yes, indeed he has.

Last time we were here (deep breath) We heard from Ron, a censor, a robot (who can't swear) and the narrator, who is Soltan Gris and who works for the CIA, Jettero Heller is Space Elvis and he Redeems People who are evil murder evil evil (excepting our narrator) The Countess Krak is evil murder evil evil and hotter than the surface of the sun, and we all must be Rescued From Ourselves by Space Elvis.

Oh god, people. Oh god, oh god oh god, I will need more alcohol before this chapter is over.

In a more specific "Previously", the Countess Krak went from this:

to this:

in about one point five eight seconds. And now she is meeting Jettero Heller for the very first time. Jet begins exploring the Countess's equiptment, which is covered in an awful layer of grime and which is all (our narrator assures us) straight out of Torturers R' Us. The Countess starts to upbraid Soltan for being five minutes late, and then...

...she stopped. Her eyes were on Jettero Heller. 

By the way? Jettero no longer looks like a word. Which is sad, because it wasn't much of one to begin with. Continueing...

She was just standing there, watching him. There was no expression on her face. There never was. This female was as beautiful as a Goddess on the altar of a church, but every bit as cold as that carved stone.

BTW, and just FYI, Hubbard had a serious thing for the Goddess Diana. As in, he was in deep with occultists (As in Alastar Crowley had to tell one of Hubbard's best buddies that he thought LRH was full of shit, and the dude might want to distance himself pronto. Let me repeat that: Alestair Crowley thought L. Ron Hubbard was full of shit.) he named a boat Diana, he named his daughter Diana, and his religion is founded on a book called Dianetics. Diane-tics.

And that is the last time I will bring up the Church that Shall Not Be Named. I promise.

So the Countess of Terrible Beauty is following Jettero around the room like she's a fucking heliotrope, and Jet abrubtly abandons his exploration of the torture chamber, spins a hundred pound punching bag around on his finger like it's a fucking basket ball, does a triple axle off the handlebars, nails the landing, and says this to the evil murder evil evil Countess Krak:

(Text reproduced EXACTLY as written:)

"HelLO!" he said. "Hello, hello, HELLO! What is a beautiful creature like you doing in a place like this?"

.......

I'm getting another drink now. In his defence, Soltan also bangs his head against the wall. But what does the Countess Krak do?

She just sat there...in a low, strained voice...she said, "You should not talk to me...I am not worthy of you...I am rotten. I am vile. I am not fit for you to talk to...that is the first friendly thing anyone has said to me in three years!"

And then she breaks down sobbing.

...yeah. Hey, Ron?


MOVING. ON.

So while the Countess has her breakdown, Soltan rigs up Jettero's language lesson. He needs to learn English.  Soltan decides that nothing less than an Ivy League accent will do for Space Elvis, rigs that up, and hands the learning helmet over to Jettero. Who starts listening to the tape, says "Fuck this shit", and then re-rigs the Super Space Learning Helmet to teach him the English language in thirty seconds.

Let me repeat that. Jettero Heller. Learns. The English Language. In thirty. fucking. seconds.

 And then the evil murder evil evil Countess says this:

"Isn't he beautiful?"

Yeah. They're going to fuck in about seventy pages.

NEXT. CHAPTER.

Alright, guys. Fair warning? If you are bothered by a discussion of the R word? (that being rape) DO NOT READ PAST THE CUT. I AM NOT KIDDING. There may, in fact, be TMI about your friendly reviewer today, because I am about to bring up things that I have never brought up in public before. I will not judge you, there are things I can't handle, either. So I repeat: IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH DISCUSSING SEXUAL ASSAULT, DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT. NOTHING AFTER THE CUT IS GOING TO BE VERY FUN.

Here is a picture of a cute kitten. If you're opting out of the next chapter, enjoy it, instead:





So the rest of ya'll are good with this? Okay. Moving on.

So Soltan, realizing that his charge is about to put his sausage into a female blender, tries to set the record straight. Apparently the Countess's real name is...I am not making this up...Lissus Moam. Ron names his characters by pulling fucking scrabble tiles out of a fucking bag. Lissus. Moam. 

And then things go downhill. Way, way, way downhill.

Let me first remind you that this book was written by a major religious leader in the last year of his life. This is how L. Ron Hubbard thought and felt about these issues right before he died. This is as close as you are EVER going to get to his true feelings on many subjects. I want you to fully appreciate this.

Anyway, after the Countess trained children how to kill (allegedly) she was sent to Spiteos. Where, being a statuesque beauty imprisoned among criminals recruited as prison guards, the men there tried to rape her. Repeatedly.

She defended herself by killing the men.

This is presented as being evidence of her evil murder evil evil nature. 

I am about to relate something that I have NEVER told ANYONE, that I probably wouldn't write about if I were not pretty drunk right now. And I am dead serious. If you have ANY ISSUES with the topic of sexual assault AT ALL, stop reading right now.

I was sexually assaulted two years ago. By a total stranger, under circumstances that could TECHNICALLY be considered consensual. As in I did not say "FUCK NO" but I also didn't have much of a choice. When your choice is either "agree to do it or disagree and do it anyway," your options are pretty damn limited. I was also robbed during the course of this. Nobody did anything about it. I called the police, and they were all like "Sucks to be you, sunshine." The one thing I remember clearly was that "Second Chance" by Shinedown was playing on the radio while this was going on. I cannot listen to that song without being instantly transported back to those circumstances. I've tried. I start hyperventilating by the time we get to the chorus. Which is sad, because I really, really like that song.

It's almost two years to the day, as a matter of fact.

My point in relating this? FUCK YES, YOU KILL THE SON OF A BITCH. Or "that bitch", if that happens to apply. (Because women do rape men, and it's just as fucking unforgivable as when a man rapes a woman) I know that's not PC, I know that you're supposed to be all "capitol punishment is wrong, I am a pacifist" in this modern era, but...no. ANYBODY who would treat another human being like Kleenex has no value in this lifetime whatsoever. 

The whole source of Countess Krak's evil nature is that she kills men who try to rape her. This is not how it is presented in the book. It is presented as "men who make a pass at her" and implies that if she doesn't want you screwing her, she will rip your balls off and shove them down your throat. But if you rip Hubbard's god-awful bias off the text, what you get is a woman is evil if she defends herself from RAPE via violent actions resulting in death. 

Oh, but my faithful blog readers, it gets fucking better.  See, I fucking know that this is Ron's opinion of women. Not think. Not suspect. I fucking know it. It all boils down to one line of dialogue in Soltan's narration, where he quotes the Countess's response to one such attack:

"I am a virgin and you will apologize."

"I am a virgin and you will apologize." 

"I am a virgin and you will apologize."
What gives the Countess the right to defend herself from an unwanted advance? Not the fact that she doesn't want it. No. She's a virgin. The Countess isn't protecting herself. She's protecting her value to men. Virginity is like the pop-top seal on a jar of pickles. It's much more valuable to the consumer than it is to the jar.

Let me link you back to my Pre-Criminal Education post so you have a point of reference for this next bit. The problem with implying that a certain demographic (IE virgins) are allowed to protect themselves from unwanted advances is that you are also implying that other demographics are not. And in this case, Hubbard is implying, via omission, that if the Countess had dated before she was arrested for teaching children how to rob banks, her hoochie would be fair game.

And you know where I said that she and Jet were going to be fucking in seventy pages? I said that because I skimmed forward to that part, counted the pages, and then returned to the review. Her killing people to preserve her virginity is treated as a non-issue. Something that every girl ought to do, so that joy an innocence may continue in this universe. Not to preserve her well-being, health or life. No. Her virginity is the issue here. 

Because the Countess has to be a clean vessel for Jettero Heller's penis. Because virginity is the only thing that matters.

I'm not going to go all "I am woman, hear me roar," mostly because I think the worst thing we have done to sex-crime victims in the last hundred years is to limit that status to women and maybe men who are raped by other men. I'm not going to go on a long rant about how bleeding fucking stupid this is. I'm just going to say this to the wonderful, progressive, far thinking author of this flying brick:



Fuck you, Ron. Fuck you.

We go back to the fun parts of the book tomorrow.  I promise. In the meantime:


It doesn't make it okay, but it makes it better for now.