All I Wanted Was To Make Fun Of Transformers

Last week, I heard from a friend about the upcoming film adaptation of Orson Scott Card’s famous novel, “Ender’s Game.” This should have been exciting news, the sort of that makes my scrawny little muppet arms flail with glee. Unfortunately, the comment came at the end of a conversation about a nightmare short film this friend was forced to direct. Whatever unhappy association he’d made between working with an idiotic, amateur actor/writer on this disaster project and the soon-to-be-produced classic sci-fi novel, it did not bode well for my enjoyment of the final film product. Turns out that one of the producers signed on for “Ender’s Game” is responsible for such Hollywood classics as “Transformers” and “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.” And the director? Well, his last directorial feat was a little gem called “Wolverine.”

Now, I set out to do a blog post on why this was such a travesty. I planned to discuss how “Ender’s Game” possesses what I considered “serious themes.” It’s a story about genius children enlisted to participate in war games. Spoiler alert, at the end of the novel the title character, Ender, realizes that after winning the final “game,” he’s actually devastated a whole race and vows to aid the remaining foes in starting anew on a different planet. “Transformers” and “Wolverine” are campy action films with cheesy one liners, where the difference between good and evil is as obvious as the morals in a Berenstain Bear book. This book had substance and required filmmakers who would recognize that!

Oh, with what outrage I intended to slam these films! How my intellectual superiority would be displayed in the way I analyzed the grand philosophies of “Ender’s Game,” suggesting for such filmmakers to adapt it would be the equivalent of Michael Bay adapting the works of Plato into an action film. I’d follow up with some snarky jokes about what other book-to-film massacres might take place next. How about a version of “Fahrenheit 451” starring Taylor Lautner as the sexy book-burning fireman with Kes$ha composing the original score.

And then, since it was his vision that was spurring me on to such vehemence, I began to do a little research on Orson Scott Card. I always like to throw in a few tidbits to flesh out my posts and show how good I am at typing names into google. The usual basic factoids popped up, but a little further down the page, I saw a heading that read something like “I’ll never read Orson Scott Card again!” Curious. I scrounged deeper and found that Card has quite the controversial political history. One article discussed how he opposes gay marriage. Another mentioned his views on global warming, mostly how he believes that research disproving it is being suppressed. Not to mention his feelings about Darwinism.

So….

After all that I was kind of having a hard time berating the Transformers dude for messing up Card’s vision.

First, let me say I am not using this space to argue for or against any of these views. A nerd blog is not the best forum to discuss political issues of any kind. I merely wish to examine the effect it had on me to find out an author I enjoyed possessed such drastically contrary political views to my own. To be honest, my first reaction was to literally ball up my notes and throw them in my trash can in a refusal to praise the book of a man I disagreed with. But after a little time had passed, and I couldn’t think up any other blog ideas for the week, I went looking for my balled-up notes. Thankfully I have absolutely no hand eye coordination and instead of tossing it into the trash, the crumpled paper had merely plopped onto my night stand.

I suppose that if I looked up the political and religious views of all my favorite authors or filmmakers, I might be unpleasantly surprised by what I found. Not every artist is a nice old man who sits in his New England cottage and spins tales of whimsy for the pleasure of mankind. Even his majesty, Stephen King, used to be addicted to cocaine. Does that make me a drug addict for loving his books? If you read my last post, you’d know the answer is most certainly a negative. And it doesn’t change the fact that I really did love “Ender’s Game” when I read it. The whole experience leaves me wondering, where do we draw the line of standing up for our beliefs? I would never give money to a politician whose platforms I opposed. If you replace politician with entertainer, should that change my answer? It’s certainly something to think about.

Say No To Drugs, Yes To Minotaur Junk

Danny McBride and James Franco’s latest film, “Your Highness” has been described by critics as “a bad fantasy film with swearing and dick jokes.” (Obsessed With Film) Other critics have stated, “Unless I'm being tortured, I'll never see Your Highness again.” (HollywoodChicago.com) And in one final crushing blow, “The result is a seemingly endless comedic black hole that feels like a cross between one of Mel Brooks' lesser vehicles and what one might get from a bunch of frat boys with a video camera, and after-hours access to the local Medieval Times.” ( eFilmCritic.com)

Well, I say that’s just ridiculous. For starters, frat boys are lame, and Medieval Times is way cool. This conclusion has nothing to do with the fact that I spend too much time at renaissance fairs. Personally, I prefer to think the general populous needs to stop seeking the wisdom of Plato in movies where James Franco gets molested by a tiny, purple, wizard muppet.

Yes, “Your Highness” is supposed to be a comedy, and if you don’t think it’s funny then that’s certainly a problem. For you. I, however, found it hysterical, and you can lob as many rotten cyber-cabbages at my Internet noggin as you like, but it still won’t change my opinion. “Your Highness” cracked me up.

In numerous reviews, the film was referred to as a stoner comedy. I guess I’m not really so sure what that term means anymore. Unlike McBride and Franco’s other collaboration “Pineapple Express,” smoking pot was not a crucial plotline in this film. Sure, the previously mentioned pervert wizard has McBride and Franco smoke a bowl to “share in his visions,” but one marijuana smoking puppet does not a stoner movie make.

So do these critics mean low brow humor, then? If you look on rotten tomatoes, the word crude is repeated over and over again in the reviews. There certainly were multiple jokes at the expense of male genitalia. Fornicating was a frequent topic, not to mention the plethora of half naked ladies literally frolicking through the woods and the glimpse of Natalie Portman diving bare-assed into a river. I guess my trashy Hollywood lifestyle has desensitized me to this bawdy behavior because I just don’t see how a dismembered minotaur penis crosses the line from disgustingly hilarious into a “shrieking example of Hollywood wastefulness at its most obvious.” Frankly, I don’t even know what that means. I must have missed the lecture on decoding critic babble in film school.

It’s all too easy to dismiss a film as being too “crude” but I’m going to go out on a crazy limb and say that despite the innuendos and suggested homosexual bestiality, this story has real heart and substance. It’s about a guy who’s jealous of his beefy, hotpants older brother, and is struggling to prove himself equally worthy. This theme is almost as common in fantasy literature as the whole “chosen one” storyline, which tells me that these guys weren’t just sitting around, cracking penis jokes when they first came up with the idea. Or maybe they were. When I meet Danny McBride, I’ll have to ask him.

I know fantasy is an acquired taste, but what I can’t wrap my head around is that if this is just a crude, stupid, stoner comedy, than why did I enjoy it so much? I’m no prude, but let’s just say I don’t enjoy Adam Sandler movies with the same gusto as I did in my elementary school days. And I certainly don’t smoke pot. Seriously, earlier in the blog post I had to google “smoke a bowl” to make sure I’d used the phrase correctly. Yet, when I first saw the trailer for this film I thought, “Golly gee! A renaissance comedy! I wish I had written something like this!” At no point did I think, stupid frat boy movie. So have all these critics misjudged and mislabeled the film? Or am I simply oblivious to my own cinematic tastes?

Like with most situations in my life, I shall avoid a potential identity crisis by choosing to blame someone else. This movie is funny, and everyone else is wrong.

No, Really, I'm A Girl. Now Buy Me This Mace

Perhaps it was jealousy that initially kept me away from Felicia Day’s webseries “The Guild.” I am clearly threatened by her nerd beauty and the fact that in her career so far she has gotten to kiss both Nathan Fillion and Wil Wheaton.

Premiering online back in 2007, “The Guild” is now in production on its fifth season. The show boasts a following of bazillions of fans, which coincidently happens to be the EXACT amount of people who play World of Warcraft, an MMORPG very similar to the computer game played in “The Guild.” Oh, and if you don’t know what an MMORPG is by now, please email me your address, so I can drive by and throw a miniature Han Solo frozen in carbonite collectible figurine at your head.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I am a former WoW addict. There were times when I literally ignored people hanging out at my house to sit alone in my room and shoot pixilated fireballs at gnolls and dire bats. All the more reason why a story about a young woman obsessed with such a computer game should have been love at first sight for me. Yes, I was intrigued, but I was also a little hesitant. Was “The Guild” laughing with us gamers, or at us?

Then two things happened which forever cemented my fate. The first was that Felicia Day appeared at the local Barnes and Noble signing copies of a graphic novel for “The Guild.” I flipped through it, and enjoyed what I saw, but still wasn’t sold yet. And then, there was Wheaton. In my recent resurgence of teen stalking, I discovered that Wil Wheaton was featured on later episodes of “The Guild,” as a kilt-wearing leader of a rival guild named Fawkes. As in the same name as Dumbledore’s pet phoenix. This, I had to see.

Forgive me Madam Felicia Day for ever doubting your comedic wonderment. Once I sat down and watched it all, I wanted more, not just because the show was hysterical, which it was, but also because it reminded me of a game I loved and missed. I’d also like to take a moment to say I appreciated that while the characters were all a little bit odd, they were not (for the most part) losers. No one weighs four hundred pounds and works in a comic book store. Clara has a husband and family, Tinkerballa is a smoking hot evil Asian chick, and though the youngest guild member, Bladezz, lives in his parents’ basement, it’s only because he’s still in high school. You find out in later episodes this long-haired, perverted teen has a secret modeling career that the others mock him for. Personally, I love any world where someone is mocked for being a model. Even Vork, the middle-aged weirdo who eats expired food and lives in a shed, does so by choice.

I think I loved these characters because I was one of them. At the end of season four, “Big Bang Theory” star Simon Helberg has a cameo as a game master busting Vork for screwing with the game’s economic structure by creating a stock exchange. When the game master compliments Codex on her busty, short skirt wearing avatar, she makes a big point of saying she’s a girl in real life to woo him into getting a new guild hall. Oh, what girl gamer hasn‘t been there before! My guy friends used to hate how I could walk into the auction house in Ironforge and giggle at some dudes and say something stupid to prove how girl-like I was (I got a tailor to make me a customized pink shirt to help in this process.) and suddenly I’d be fifty gold richer. Yes, perhaps this was a form of pimping myself for fake money, but I make no apologies.

The question remains, did I enjoy this show only because I played World of Warcraft? I don’t think so. In fact, “The Guild” is as much about friendship and discovering one’s way in the world as it is about gaming. And you don’t have to be a nerd to have a sense of humor. It might help, but you don’t have to be.

Dolph Lundgren Could Have Played the Mad Scientist

I knew the odds were not in my favor that “Sucker Punch” would be what you’d call a “quality film.” However, I at least hoped for some marginal, bad action movie entertainment. No dice. Blogging about such a film using thoughtful analysis seems the equivalent of trying to analyze the finger painting a mentally challenged chimpanzee has done with its own feces. Therefore, instead of a critical discussion, I’ve decided to brainstorm ten ideas of how “Sucker Punch” might have been improved.

1. Instead of a tortured young woman, perhaps the character of Baby Doll is an actual baby doll, demonically come to life, or built by a mad scientist. But the mad scientist can no longer control her violent tendencies, so he must lock her away for everyone’s protection! Also, the character named Rocket should be a cyborg with rocket arms.

2. Cut the dream within a dream. There was only one filmed named “Inception,“ and you are not it, “Sucker Punch.” Baby Doll fantasizes about being trapped in a brothel, where to deal with being ogled by men, she fantasizes about fighting zombies. Dear Baby Doll: Are you really so messed up you require two dream worlds to cope with your traumatic experiences? Maybe you should try some more therapy and less attempts at vigilantism.

3. The characters in the fantasy sequences should actually have some relevance or parallel to the characters in the “real” mental institution story. For example, perhaps the dragon could have been personified by a fat, chain-smoking female guard, and the Nazi zombies could have been a troupe of rule obsessed Aryan orderlies. I mean, I love the random inclusion of dragons as much as the next nerd, but this is just sloppy storytelling.

4. Add more story and character development. It’s hard for audiences to be invested in the plight of generic female mental patients/prostitutes. Or another possibility is to have even less story and character development, and just make the film into a porno. You know, it’s practically halfway there on its own!

5. More John Hamm. He played two parts, that of a doctor giving a lobotomy and in the fantasy sequence, a mysterious rich guy in a white dinner jacket. Neither role gave him very much screen time. What a waste of Hamm!

6. More cheesy catch phrases. If you’re going to be a bad action film, at least embrace your crappiness with some memorable commentary. Such one liners might include “Lobotomize this!” or “Baby Doll wants to play!” Then cue cute blond girl punching a dude in the face. The possibilities are endless. The movie is called “Sucker Punch” for pete’s sake. There’s got to be a good pun in there somewhere.

7. Get a sense of humor. This sort of goes along with number six. This film was ripe with ridiculousness waiting to bubble through the melodramatic storylines. Point in case, Carla Gugino’s hilarious Russian accent as Dr. Vera Gorski. I’m fairly certain her character used to be eit her a communist spy or part of a family of traveling acrobats.

8. More crazy bitches being crazy bitches. The film takes place in a hospital for the criminally insane, so why the room full of mewling sad sacks? Where’s the sassy prison yard banter? Angelina Jolie had more spirit in “Girl, Interrupted,” and that was a drama, folks. All I’m asking is one chair thrown at somebody else’s head, maybe some creepy whittling while spouting gibberish death threats to a house plant. Now that’s crazy!

9. Less weasely villain. I have nothing to add on this point. This guy just looked like a creeper, and the fact that it took until the end of the film for somebody to stab him in the neck was really off-putting.

10. How about we just cut out the whole “real world” component and make this a story about five slutty friends who travel through time and space, fighting samurai, orcs, zombies, dragons, and robots. I’m sure there’s probably an anime already out there with this exact premise. Or twelve. Or twelve hundred.

They Call It Movie Magic For A Reason

I am a lady of great class and sophistication, and since I don’t have to look at your face or hear your sarcastic laughter while I’m typing, I will continue to pretend that that’s true.

Still, even a gentile, high society female such as myself has her moments of juvenile idiocy, where I revert back to some sort of spastic child, full of big-eyed wonderment and excited arm-flailing. Such was the case last Monday when my former film school, LMU, screened the documentary, “Exporting Raymond,” written and directed by Phil Rosenthal, who stayed for a Q&A following the film. You may not have heard of this film yet, but I’m certain you’ve heard of Mr. Rosenthal’s wildly successful show, “Everybody Loves Raymond.”

I rarely get excited meeting actors or celebrities, or at least, I rarely get so excited I can’t keep it together enough to feign aloofness until they exit the room. Writers, however, are a different story. You see, writers possess an ability to create something out of nothing, sort of like wizards. And you know how I feel about wizards. Perchance this is why upon conclusion of the previously mentioned question and answer period, I felt obliged to approach Phil Rosenthal and tell him how hilariously magical and brilliant he was, though not in those specific words. Sarah Terry, another LMU alumni and close friend, reported that I “gushed like a giddy teen meeting Justin Bieber and remained in an utter daze of pure elation after he (Rosenthal) hugged her (me).”

But you don’t have to be a fan of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” to appreciate “Exporting Raymond.” At its heart, it’s a movie about the universality of humor, and the attempts of one hilarious gentleman to bridge cultural gaps through the media of comedy. The film starts with Rosenthal setting off to Russia, where he will help a team of filmmakers create a Russian version of his hit show. Along the way, Rosenthal learns the answers to such questions as, “What is K & R insurance?” and “Who is the Russian equivalent of Peter Boyle?” The answers are kidnapping and ransom, and a guy named Boris Klyuyev.

The language barrier is the least of Rosenthal’s obstacles in getting the Russian Raymond made, and at times it seems the only thing universal about the project is the frustration of show business. It all makes for a harrowing journey for Rosenthal but a rather entertaining one for audiences. Even if you know nothing about television production, who can’t relate to being placed in a foreign and possibly uncomfortable situation, where it feels like no matter what you say and how you say it, the message falls on deaf, Russian ears. Okay, maybe not the Russian part. Add onto that a cast of characters (a Russian fashionista costume designer, a mysterious bodyguard who collects seashells) that you couldn’t make up because your screenwriter’s workshop would say they’re too over the top and unbelievable, and you have yourself one rollicking documentary. I bet you thought you’d never see the words “rollicking” and “documentary” together in one sentence! Well, you’re wrong, thanks to the magic of Phil Rosenthal. I told you, writers are wizards.

And as if making CBS bath tubs full of money wasn’t enough to keep him busy (P.S. He’s also guest starring on an episode of 30 Rock in a couple weeks!) Phil Rosenthal also wrote a book back in 2006, titled “You’re Lucky You’re Funny.” Honestly, I wish I had read this book my first week in film school. In fact, I wish it had come along with my tuition. $60,000, good for one masters degree and one copy of Phil Rosenthal’s book. There are plenty of books out there on the subject of screenwriting, specifically on to improve your craft, properly structure a script or develop an idea. Few of them, however, say anything about what it’s like to struggle through horrid jobs before you finally break in, or what it’ll be like once you finally do. He discusses his inspiration for “Raymond,” how the project developed, from concept to finale. I love behind the scenes memoirs, but rarely do any manage to be so witty and informational, so inspiring and irreverent at the same time, as Rosenthal‘s does. This I tell you now, just as I spastically told it to the amiable Phil Rosenthal, who smiled politely through my barrage of fervent complimenting. Not only is he a ridiculously amusing fellow, but an incredibly nice person too.

The Sassy Dwarf is the Selling Point

What is this “Game of Thrones,” you’ve been hearing about, sweet nerds? Well, you probably already know, so this post is for those of you so-called “popular” people out there who are wealthy enough to afford premium channels on HBO.

The short answer is that it’s nerd cocaine. To elaborate, “A Game of Thrones,” is a new fantasy series airing on HBO on April 17th and is based on the novel of the same name, written by George R. R. Martin. Apparently if you want to get anywhere in the fantasy literature world, you have to include at least two initials in your name, preferably R’s. Think about it.

This series was first brought to my attention by a former coworker, a beefy Russian chap named Eugene who worked with me at the bookstore. I always liked Eugene for several reasons. For one thing, he told me inappropriate jokes whenever customers made me want to walk in front of a trolley. Also, I knew if ever I was to be sucked into a magical portal to the medieval age, and needed to establish some sort of traveling fellowship, not only would Eugene have the strength to heft a war hammer, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be bogged down by any misgivings as to using said weapon to crack a man’s skull open. Plus he had really good taste in books.

There was a story Eugene often told to customers whenever he’d recommend them “A Game of Thrones.” Apparently, the TV industry had been trying to lure George R. R. Martin into giving up his book rights for years, ever since the first novel got acclaim back when it was published in 1996. No dice, Martin would say. You’ll never do it right, Martin lamented. And then a little thing called Rome happened. Not the empire, the HBO show starring Kevin McKidd and Ray Stevenson, who by the way, I once met as an intern and had to pretend I didn’t know for fear of geeking out like a school girl. I handed him a water bottle and he said, “Cheers!”

Back to Rome. It only lasted two seasons because they basically had to build a mini version of the city. It was huge and expensive, but it looked amazing, and people really responded to it. Martin also responded to it. The next time a fan asked him, would you ever allow “A Game of Thrones” to be adapted, he said something like “Only if it was made by the people who made Rome.” HBO called Martin the next day. Or so the legend goes…

If you’ve ever been inside a bookstore, you know there’s a whole fantasy section, and you can imagine the repetitive drivel that coagulates there. I think anyone who loves the subject matter has at one time or another held delusions of contributing their own vision to the steaming pile. I know I have! The obvious question is, what makes George R. R. Martin’s books better than the rest?

Well, for starters, he’s not afraid to murder main characters in horrible yet interesting ways. Also, his characters are not whiny. Or at least most of them aren’t. There was one princess I would have liked to see decapitated and covered in tar (which does happen to someone) but for the most part, the characters were incredibly likable and, shall we say, not clones of Aragorn son of Arathorn. Plus there’s a sassy dwarf, who in the HBO series will be appropriately played by Peter Dinklage. Who doesn’t love a sassy dwarf? It has all the rest of the stuff nerds usually require too, i.e. mysterious, wild people beyond a giant ice wall in the north, a girl who may or may not possess magical dragon powers, and enough kings and lords stabbing each other in the eye to satiate the most unquenchable nerd lust.

So there’s the long answer.

I Love You Mom and Dad, But...

I love “The X-Files.” If there were conventions for “The X-Files,” I would go, and probably find my husband there. Or maybe I could just find a way to marry the show itself. A guy in Japan married his avatar, so why not? The show lasted from 1993 to 2002, which for me was ages 10 to 19. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Thanks to the Ghost of Television Past, or as you know him, Netflix, I’ve rewatched some of my favorite episodes in the last couple months. Never would I have imagined the effect this would have on me. Along with the stories, each episode brought back memories of my own past. It was a little like post trauamtic stress syndrome, only without the horrible war flashbacks. So, instead of treating my roommate to a lecture on “The History of Steinho” every time I put the show on, I’ll torture you, my precious blogflowers, with five of my favorite episodes, personal life memories included.


1.) Jose Chung’s “From Outer Space.” April 2006

A science fiction writer interviews Mulder and Scully for his new novel about their latest case. The case in question involves teenagers abducted by government officials dressed like aliens, who in turn are abducted by real aliens.. My friends Sarah and Joey and I loved this episode so much, we recorded it onto a VHS tape, and then transcribed it into script format. You see, the plan was for us to act it out and film it. I think for a time we coerced my father into participating, until he realized it wasn’t a school project and just something us weird kids were doing for fun. I remember we talked Sarah’s older sister into acting out a few scenes before she had to leave for a date. I can almost picture her, standing in their driveway, dressed to go out and holding a giant plastic pink elephant over her head, pretending to be the alien Lord Kimbo. What a good sport!

2. Quagmire May 1996

Mulder and Scully investigate a Nessie-like sea beast. Numerous limbs and torsos are eaten, along with Scully’s dog Queequeg. First off, I am obsessed with Nessie, as witnessed by my loyal roommate who did not murder me from shame when I screamed for Nessie on the banks of Loch Ness. At the moment of Quagmire’s airing, I was thirteen years old. My mom was on a business trip to Hawaii. Not to be all childhood trauma on you, but up until high school, I really did not talk to my father, other than to get help with school projects (see previous episode). I dreaded my Mom leaving. Who would feed me? Who would tell me when to wake up in the morning? Who would I cry on if I had another puberty-enduced panic attack??? But by Friday night when “The X-Files” aired, I realized my fears were unjustified. I didn’t need my Mom to protect me anymore, and my father was far better at cooking than I could have imagined. Everything was going to be okay.

3. Bad Blood February 1998

Mulder and Scully each tell their side of what happened after Mulder accidentally stabs a seemingly innocent man with a wooden stake. Also featuring Luke Wilson as a buck-toothed Texas sheriff and the chubby red-headed kid from “The Sandlot” as an OCD vampire. I think the best part of this episode was how the agents describe each other in their own version of the story. Scully sees Mulder as a hyperactive spazz, while he sees her as a bitchy know-it-all. Yet, having watched the show for seasons, you know of course the two of them belong together. It was around this time that I was starting to realize that “The X-Files” had ruined me from ever having a normal romantic relationship, and not just because Fox Mulder was a dreamboat. Scully and Mulder were too busy fighting swamp monsters and circus freaks to care about sappy crap like romance. “The X-Files” showed me I did not want a husband. I wanted a Mulder.

4. Hungry Novemeber 1999

A young man working in a burger joint deals with self-esteem issues, not to mention his unhealthy addiction to eating brains. At this point, I was starting to realize that I would probably not get to lose my virginity to David Duchovny. After all, by the time I was legal, he’d be forty years old, and that was just gross. Fortunately, for me there was Chad E. Donella, the lead character of that week’s episode. In typical teen girl fashion, I went from not knowing who he was to writing love songs to him in a matter of days. This episode also happened to be pretty hilarious as well. There were several lines that my sister and I continued to quote to each other long after the fact. One of them was when a therapist refers to Peter Jennings as the most handsome man in the world. Because mocking the appearance of respected newscasters is always comedy gold.

The Truth - Series Finale - May 2002

Mulder defends himself for all the decisions he’d made in the pursuit of truth. While the episode itself was like a cliff notes of the entire show’s run, for those fans who had seen it through, it was a nice resolution. I can’t remember watching “The X-Files” very frequently in it’s last two seasons. This was partially due to going to college and suddenly having a social life. The real reason was because David Duchovny wasn’t on the show anymore, but I read he was coming back for the finale. Unfortunately, my college boyfriend called me about fifteen minutes into the episode. I spent the next thirty minutes fighting with him about why I was choosing to watch a stupid TV show over talking to him. A few years later, I finally watched the episode in it’s entirety. It was after I’d moved to LA, and somehow this was fitting. My favorite show, ushering me into my new life.

I could try to deny it, but the truth is, “The X-Files” became more than just a show to me. Mulder and Scully were incredible characters and after the show ended, I still wanted to spend time with them. I’d like to pretend that Scully is my aunt, and I can go and visit her and her life partner Mulder in their weird woodland cottage. They take me to haunted houses and on monster quests. Sometimes I almost die but mostly I just have a good time. Then one day, they will sit me down and say, “Amanda. We’re not really your aunt and uncle. We’re your parents.”

Like I said. I love “The X-Files.”