First of all, I want to ask this: Why is it that nancy boy Edward, with his I-just-swam-five-hundred-laps-through-an-Olympic-sized-swimming-pool-of-glitter skin and wiry chest hair poking through his shirt in a way akin to Simon Cowell, is seen as the ideal boyfriend?
"Oh, he's gentlemanly. He's hot. He loves Bella so, so much."
Before I go into a rant about how stupid I think Twilight is (and yet, yes, I paid to watch the movie; it's like cotton candy, tasty for a little while and then it makes your jaw ache, it's so sweet), I shall post this, for the Almighty Oatmeal sums up my feelings.
http://theoatmeal.com/story/twilight
Okay. So. My own main problem with Twilight is this:
TEAM JACOB VS. TEAM EDWARD
And the little empty shell caught in between.
What is my problem with this? One, I just can't find it within my Anne Rice- and Joss Whedon- loving soul to give a damn for Meyer's damned. I had better daydreams when I was 8 than what this woman has penned.
My other main problem is that Edward is a controlling, potentially abusive prick, and he's what is setting the standard for tween love. And Jacob isn't much better.
I think I just choked on my own vomit.
Anyway. I digress.
If you're going to love a vampire, first you should know some things about who they really are. Because Stephanie Meyer's demon spawn splattered on wood pulp is not Nosferatu of the Night. No. They are Glitter Monsters. They puke glitter. Crap glitter. Eat glitter shakes in the morning. Wear glitter mascara on their fake glitter eyelashes, which are, in fact, attached with glitter glue.
So here are the guidelines for real vampires until they were bastardized, ripped up and left in the sun with Holy Water as sun block by Stephanie Meyer and all of her horrible "AMAGAD VAMPIIIIIIRE!!!" followers that now clutter the YA section of Borders.
For this following example, I will use Joss Whedon's Spike and Stephanie Meyer's Edward to epitomize my point.
1.) Vampires do not glitter in the sun.
In fact, they set on fire. This is the way it has always been. Creature of the night and all of that.
Take Spike. He has to run around Sunnydale with a blanket over his lovely bleached head in order to travel in the day. Why? Because he's bad ass enough to pull off a blanket.
Lestat was the same. How was he almost killed? Fire. Fire = sun = day.
This sparkle crap is a campaign to sell books similar to when Barbie wants to sell a faerie doll.
2.) Vampires do not like Italian food.
Duh. This is as old as the Transylvanian version of the myth itself. Vampire + garlic =
This does not even merit a Spike vs. Edward comparison, except to say that when Edward took Bella to an Italian restaurant in Twilight, he either a.) has bigger vampire kahones than Dracula, or b.) he's vampire castrated.
3.) Vampires don't dig on the religious.
Spike hugged a cross and his skin burned. Buffy killed a psycho vampire by tricking him into drinking holy water. Angel burns his hand when he touches Buffy's crucifix. God and vamps don't mix.
This was semi-addressed in Twilight; Carlisle's (I don't care enough to check how to spell that) dad was a priest or something, but Carlisle left the church when he was changed. However, he has a nancy boy obsession with souls and such which is very reminiscent of the religious (and a little too reflective of Meyer's own beliefs). Meyer leads us to believe that vampires have souls in the fact that they care about souls, which leads me to this point:
4.) VAMPIRES HAVE NO FREAKING SOULS.
Unless you're Angel. And Angel is the prime example of the suckage that is born from vampires having souls. He whines. He cries. He can't get it on with the Buffster.
Spike again. William the Bloody. When he is changed, he tortures people with railroad spikes. Kills slayers. Generally tears across continents, wreaking havoc, all while having beautiful hair and perfectly chipped black nail polish.
When he gets a soul--something he fights to earn--he is miserable. He goes insane. He tries to claw the soul out with his fingernails.
It's not natural. At least not in vampy land. Maybe it is in soccer-mom-sexy-fantasy land.
Vampires are demons. That doesn't really vary from mythology to mythology. Demons are opposed to good. That means they have no soul. Gold star on the Sunday school chart for you if you figured that one out.
And my fifth and final point,
5.) Vampires have to be invited before they can come into a home.
Angel. Dracula. Lestat. Spike. Come on, guys. You're not going to have a creepy, amber-eyed glitteratti staring at you from the base of your bed, unless you want him to be there.
(Aren't there laws against that sort of thing? Laws that involve chains, moldy bread, and a large woman with a mustache named Bertha? No? There should be.)
This is all without me addressing stakes, diet, sexual habits, changing, and so on and so forth.
Point is this. Vampires aren't these fluffy little glitter bunnies that hop around giving awkward teenage girls self-esteem boosts.
They are the bad asses that take your local virgins, seduce them, and rip their throats out so that they can make Bella Blood Martini.
Case closed.
Liberal use of phrase "nancy boy" brought to you by my insane love for William the Bloody that surpasses the normal and borders on the Freudian.
Here's a video num num for you.
(PS: Werewolves change during a full moon and use Bella bones for toothpicks. They don't turn into cute little puppy dogs that hate vampires. Dracula actually sometimes turned into a wolf. But I digress. I super digress. Before I start ranting again.)
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