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Date: 2018/08/15 15:22 By: bulldust Status: Admin  
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The Bull is still reeling from the loss of his friend. She was a fluffy white, red-eyed, cockatiel. She lived with Bullmeister and was a perfect angel. And despite the Bull’s surliness and grouchy disposition, she was good company.

Unfortunately, she was also very keen on trying to reproduce and eat anything in sight. The Bull was careless and left some avocado out several evenings ago, and she must have helped herself to some. The next morning she had passed. There is some uncertainty if this was due to the avocado or chronic egg-laying. Either way, the Bull feels somewhat responsible for not intervening on either front. He is carrying some guilt over the loss of his friend.

He will even miss her strange habits and idiosyncrasies. Because of her overactive reproductive urge, she would frequently brood under the bed, looking like a Morlock or zombie, white with bright red eyes glowing in the reflection of the flashlight, hissing in response to the Bull’s offensive intrusions. The Bull loved the hell out of his albino, zombie bird.

Generally speaking, like vampires and elves, the Bull Is not a big fan of zombies. Being an herbivore and a prey animal, the Bullmeister is preprogrammed to avoid gore of any kind. So when it comes to all that brain eating, count Bulldust out.

However, the Bull is a huge fan of quirkiness and serendipity. This cap is chucked full of that shit. Fortunately, there isn’t any gratuitous gore or nastiness. The cap is essentially a romantic comedy. You could pull all the zombie references out and still have an old-fashioned boy meets girl story and it would be equally valid.

The cap is cute and endearing. Technically there are only minor fixes that need adjusting. And although it relies heavily on a forced zombie universe, it worked. Even though it goes against the Bull’s grain to do so, he is going to give it a thumbs up. Maybe Rocks will disagree. Who knows? But yes, send it upward.
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Date: 2018/08/17 15:10 By: rockefeller Status: Admin  
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At around the age of 5, Rocks enjoyed scary dreams in which emotionless, decaying human monsters would chase him. No matter how fast he ran or how far he traveled, there they'd be, always a few steps behind. Perhaps it is during this resolution of our Oedipal (or Electra, if you have no penis... or have been mistakenly assigned a body inappropriate to your gender identification) complexes that zombies are born. Their appeal as supernatural entities also no doubt stems from our ability to mutilate and kill them with great joy and satisfaction, and without a tinge of guilt. They are, after all, already dead. A friend has hypothesized their recent upsurge in popularity as stemming from the internet, which makes zombies of us all. Rocks was once introduced to a woman who'd long since starved herself to death at the age of 80, but, who every year continues to receives countless birthday wishes from her many "friends" on Facebook. Indeed, it is of some solace to the Rockstar that his myriad brilliant literary works will live on forever (i.e., the century or so remaining to humankind) on his gdrive long after he has departed this strange simulation we call living.

Whew [burp]... heavy shit, bra.

So this 'bie cap was pretty funny. Shaun of the Dead, but with a more lighthearted, romantic mien, and less killing and gore. There's a message, too. If, for some unfathomable reason, you want to make some future family law or divorce attorney very, very happy (and rich), don't play games. Just ask whoever to marry you.

The prose is clean, polished and easy to read. What few nits Rocks spotted will almost certainly be caught by the Monkey should it survive arbitration. But, just in case:

a trait leftover
"leftover" is either a noun or an adjective, as a verb, it's two words.

fool proof
one word

Damn it, why did he have get all of the special orders tonight?
word missing

to the rest room.
A restroom is where we poop, not nap.

second hand tie
"secondhand" is the adjective, we (almost) all have a second hand.

The only other niggle Rocks might have re this yarn, is that the humor starts to become a little too predicable. Like he got that the 'bies are decomposing and generally falling apart. And although the abundant descriptions thereof are indeed witty, it still begins to feel overworked. But then, that's the genre, the intent. So here Rocks will beg to differ with his esteemed & behooved colleague. Without this zombie wit and cute worldview, the piece isn't even a cheesy romantic comedy, as it lacks the required falling out portion of the arc. And, even if it were, it would be less than as written. So, this is a toughie. It deserves another read, but maybe isn't quite Monkey ready. To be honest (words that almost always introduce lies), if The Bull had passed, Rocks would likely now accept, just to keep it alive. So, no.
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Date: 2018/09/06 22:37 By: architext Status: Admin  
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Posts: 88
Who has summoned THE ARCHITEXT? Oh right, you guys did. Ok, moving right along. Aha, zombie love!

I've always enjoyed horror movies for their social satire more than their gore. There is definitely a satirical short story, if not a novel (or more likely a movie), worth of commentary to be made on the subject of the commodification-slash-zombification of "romance."

In this piece our undead lead is so clueless that he takes bad advice and treats his lover to an assortment of cliched proposals which go awry. I always wonder about people like him; if you can't figure out the right way to propose and make it special, it's probably because you're with the wrong person in the first place. (For full disclosure, the Architext is unmarried, but also a 19-dimensional hermaphroditic being and 19-dimensional inverse-hermaphrodites are in short supply; also, Tinder won't run on my Palm Treo.) Anyway, the point is that Dawson does behave like a zombie, deferring his decision-making to his moronic buddy, who is himself relying on movie cliches.

The *literal* zombie stuff is window dressing on the underlying plot. It adds a touch of macabre humor and world-building, but the world-building is sort of needless; as my colleague mentioned above, this story could be played straight without much difference. That's why I assume the author was actually leaning toward satire about the marketing of love-- that is, how our expectations are defined by broader society instead of ourselves.

Satire doesn't need characters to be believable and fully fleshed out (pun intended), but it might be a stronger piece if we had more of the two/three principal characters and less of the sideshow acts (the waitstaff and the Jumbotron editor). Notably, the first two proposal failures aren't Dawson's fault except for being dumb proposal ideas in the first place. (The third failure is closer to being his fault straight up.) How he reacts to those failures is more significant character-wise than the depictions of why they fail. For an exercise, consider what would be lost if the waiter and editor sections were replaced with single sentences like "but the ring somehow found its way into someone else's glass" and "...but the Jumbotron programmer somehow messed up and spelled his name as Andrew." The vignettes here are cute but what do they add? I don't see them making much difference. It would make a difference if he was *directly* responsible for these screw-ups, however. Instead he's just being punished by the gods (a.k.a the author), which doesn't show us much of his character as he's absolved of all but the most basic responsibility for what happens, and the characters just move on. When he finally blunders into a sort-of epiphany in the finale, I am left wondering if the hero really learned much of anything. Strange that he didn't just read all 4 options in the first place, before going through them-- but maybe that's a zombie thing.

Overall it's nice, light, entertaining stuff, but a chance has been overlooked to make a stronger satirical statement so I'm pushing the "NO" button. But let me add, the author should use this as a starting place, adapt it into a more damning statement on our zombified world, and re-submit it.

OK, I'm off to go watch Xenglürbian mud wrestling on planet Flokzorg XI. If I'm lucky Bl'krnhz the Conjugator got the flowers and chocolate I sent, and will let me visit xher backstage...
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