Tonight, we have a guest blogger, and that guest blogger is none other than playwright/critic George Bernard Shaw.
SHAW: You might at first be wondering how the devil a man who's been dead for some time would have the capacity to blog in this newfangled hell you people call the twenty-first century. I reply with the only conceivable explanation. I. Am. George. Bernard. Shaw. Death, something that proves to be far too complicated for the rest of you, is a minor knot that I can untie with the two slightest fingers of my non-dominant hand.
I've come here today to discuss a disturbing trend in humanity. That trend is humanity. Why haven't you people destroyed yourselves yet? (I don't consider myself entirely human, because for the last sixty years of my life, I wore only wool. That suggests an ascension of some note).
Seriously. Please end your existence as soon as humanly possible. You've disappointed me on every other level, whether it be compassion, art, auto design--
Incidentally, I object to the new Honda designs. Profusely object. Too boxy.
--But I digress. You disappoint me in all areas except your ability to destroy yourself. With one exception. I did find the first five seasons of the X Files enjoyable. But other than that, you're a sorry lot.
How have I been making out, you ask? And if you're not asking, you should be. I've been in the next level of existence, literally kicking Shakespeare in the balls. Turns out he can't defend himself. But he deserves it for "As You Like it." So now, I torment him as I like it.
In summation, destroy yourselves as soon as possible so as to give mother Earth a reprieve. Also, just stop writing plays. Please. Stop. They're... they're no good. No good at all. I won't lie to to you.
That is all. This transmission from George Bernard Shaw ends now.
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The following is a scene from ROBOCOP that was left on the cutting room floor.
(ROBOCOP points his gun at one of the villains)
ROBOCOP: Dead or alive, you're coming with me.
ROBBER: That doesn't make sense. If you kill me, you wouldn't bring me with you. You'd leave me for the CSI team, wouldn't you?
ROBOCOP: ... probably.
ROBBER: Unless you WOULD take my corpse with you. But that would imply a nefarious motive on your part, which hardly fits your idiom.
ROBOCOP: All right, all right. Alive, you're coming with me, but dead, you're not coming with me.
ROBBER: When you say it like that, you loose the poetry. Strike what I said. Just say it the way you said it.
ROBOCOP: Are you sure?
ROBBER: Yeah. Poetic License.
ROBOCOP: Dead or alive, you're coming with me.
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A review of the third blog.
We are now joined by online blog reviewer Jacob Jacobson, who will be reviewing the third blog in this series.
JACOB: Not the best of the blogs, thus far. But it's not surprising that Josh has hit a bit of slump here in the third blog--it happens to the best of them, and he is by no means the best of them. You can begin to see that he is relying on a bag of writer's tricks. the Robocop is essentially another example of parody, which he did extensively in Blog 2. The George Bernard Shaw, I felt, was lacking in depth. He could have gone a lot farther with Shaw's thesis, but instead managed to throw in the bit about his disapproval of the new Honda designs, which felt a bit more like it came from Josh than from George Bernard Shaw. Shaw would probably have not favored one Honda design over the other, but one can speculate about that until one is blue in the face. Long story short, he's loosing steam here, and he's going to have to give us something different the next time around if he intends to keep his audience, let alone build it.
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"My Fair Lady" is at least ten times better known than "Pygmalion". Suck on THAT, Shaw.
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