50 Shades of Crap

I something to admit to all of you. I have not read 50 Shades of Grey.

Now, usually I’ll read or watch or listen to whatever it is that my students are reading or watching or listening. So yes, I have read The Hunger Games trilogy and watched the first movie. I make sure and keep up, more or less, with a number of terrible television shows (plus Glee, which I like). I listen to trashy music and watch the even trashier videos that go with them. Sometimes I’ll end up with something that I like (Savage U, anyone?), but that’s a rarity. About half of my current college students admit to having read 50 Shades.

But I drew the line at 50 Shades. It is sex-negative, poorly portrays BDSM, and is terribly written. I am not here to review 50 Shades for you because I haven’t read it and I’m not going to. If you want to read a review of it, you’ll have to read what Katrina Lumsden says about it. This is what Violet Blue calls the only review of 50 Shades you’ll need. She also says it means you won’t actually have to read any of the books, which is a huge bonus.

So why am I writing a post about a book I haven’t read and am not going to review for you? Because it has permeated the popular culture and everyone is asking for an opinion on it. Let me be clear: My opinion is that it is crap and it is not worth my time to read. (Plus, I’ve already read Katrina Lumsden’s review of it, and so I have Violet Blue’s permission not to read the damn thing or the two that follow.)

I am writing because of a specific website parodying 50 Shades of Grey that made me almost pee from laughing so hard this morning. The Fifty Shades Generator comes up with things like this (GROSS WARNING!):

The seemingly never-ending streams of love mayonnaise emanating from his baloney pony soon had me coated like a plasterer’s radio. The feeling of his cock custard dripping down my throat got my flange custard flowing quicker than snot off a whip. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise slimming from my shit winker and all over my piss flaps. The slamming of my other vagina was so vigorous, he soon found his hairy walnuts joining his love muscle deep in my rusty bullet hole. My throat was so full of greasy kebab skewer and baby gravy, the love piss was oozing down my chin and onto my droopies.

It’s gross, but damn it’s funny!

But will everyone think it’s funny? Of course not. My exposure to conversations about sex is so much higher – SO much higher! – than most people’s that it’s hard to shock me or actually gross me out. So it’s okay if you don’t think that’s funny. But I’m sure I have enough followers who do to make it well worth my while to share such extravagance.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!