Teh amazing twilight thred omg lol.

I liked Harry Potter until the last few books when nice sentences became a slew of words.

I have no idea why they decided to make a movie of Twilight, but the book's popularity has gone waaaaay up from it.

Too far.

We will have to kill it. =_=
 
Eejit said:
Hey, I have logical reasons for disliking harry potter (such as the quality of writing) rather than the Twilight nuts who just hate it for the sake of hating something that's popular.
Click to expand...

I hate it because they're an awful series of books that are poorly written and stupid. :|

Harry Potter is far better than any Twilight shit.
 
Anything is better than any Twilight shit.

Although, I probably shouldn't be that hard on it. After all, the movie was very popular not just for people who liked it, but people who were new and thought it'd be a cool vamp movie.

Those people were wrong. HORRIBLY WRONG.
 
Corp. Sheepo said:
I hate it because they're an awful series of books that are poorly written and stupid. :|

Harry Potter is far better than any Twilight shit.
Click to expand...

Wait, I thought your first sentence was describing Harry Potter.

Twilight isn't very well written but it's better than that hack JK can manage.
 
Eejit said:
Wait, I thought your first sentence was describing Harry Potter.

Twilight isn't very well written but it's better than that hack JK can manage.
Click to expand...

Even if it's not as well written, Harry Potter has an interesting plot, characters that aren't cardboard cutouts of one idea, and an interesting world.

Even if you don't like the writing, atleast there's something worth being written.
 
Harry Potter could be terrible, at least it isn't a chick flick based off of a chicklit.
 
Right, so bscly you think Harry Potter is less atrocious than Twilight because it isn't "for chicks"?

Why am I surprised, you're one of the most narrowminded members nuri.
 
I suppose. If your standards are so low you consider Harry Potter to have a good plot, setting or characters there isn't really anything for us to talk about.
 
Eejit said:
I suppose. If your standards are so low you consider Harry Potter to have a good plot, setting or characters there isn't really anything for us to talk about.
Click to expand...
And if you consider Twilight to have a better plot, setting, or characters than Harry Potter, or any at all, then I hereby accept your resignation from the human race.
 
As it turns out, humans wearing glitter will also sparkle and a wooden stake to the heart is fatal to both humans and vampires. Boy, is that a mistake I'll never make again... Well I was sentenced to death so I really can't.
 
Vampires are very thparkly. They're so fabulouth that it's impossible to fathom their awethomeneth.

Don' make me thlap you! I will thlap you thilly, young man!
 
Corp. Sheepo said:
And if you consider Twilight to have a better plot, setting, or characters than Harry Potter, or any at all, then I hereby accept your resignation from the human race.
Click to expand...

The setting is slightly more original. The writing is better. There is some actual character development - completely absent in HP.
 
1) Define setting.
2) Harry Potter has a plot.
3) There is certainly interesting and dynamic characters in Harry Potter (atleast far more than Twilights). Whether they develop, I couldn't give two shits.
4) Originality is not quality.

I know your literary taste are so highly tuned and immaculate, but you're honestly defending a book that can be summed up with, "A girl falls in love with a vampire and then some other vampires try and kill her."
 
Eejit said:
Right, so bscly you think Harry Potter is less atrocious than Twilight because it isn't "for chicks"?

Why am I surprised, you're one of the most narrowminded members nuri.
Click to expand...

That's a bold description coming from a complete nobody that knows nothing about me beyond what spam I spam up on this spam filled forum of spammers.




And yes, Harry Potter is better then Twilight.
















No I don't care for your reply to that.


4) Originality is not quality.
Click to expand...

Its Buffy but more teen friendly and for girls.
 
Corp. Sheepo said:
1) Define setting.
2) Harry Potter has a plot.
3) There is certainly interesting and dynamic characters in Harry Potter (atleast far more than Twilights). Whether they develop, I couldn't give two shits.
4) Originality is not quality.

I know your literary taste are so highly tuned and immaculate, but you're honestly defending a book that can be summed up with, "A girl falls in love with a vampire and then some other vampires try and kill her."
Click to expand...
Setting? The fictional world in which the story is takes place. Why do you need me to define something so basic? Twilight invents its own mythology for its monsters.
The Harry Potter series recycles tired overused ideas in its entirety.

Harry Potter has a cliched plot, yes. As does Twilight. The fact that you prefer one cliche, or perhaps don't realise how cliched it is is an inadequate defense.

Interesting characters in HP? Really? I assume you mean Snape as that's the closest thing JK could manage to a 3D character. I'll admit, he's alright. However the rest of them are atrocious cariacatures.

Originality does not mean quality by itself, but lack of originality is a clear marker of poor overall quality.

I'm defending a book (which I believe my most enthusiastic praise of was along the lines of "alright, not as bad as people say") against irrational rabid criticism of both it and its fans, yes. You don't have to think something is omgawesome to defend it against unjust slander.
Harry Potter can be summed up in a sentence too, if you like.

Oh and sarcastically claiming that I have refined taste is rich coming from someone who doesn't give two shits about character development.
nurizeko said:
That's a bold description coming from a complete nobody that knows nothing about me beyond what spam I spam up on this spam filled forum of spammers.
Click to expand...

You make your opinions and prejudices quite clear. Regularly.


nurizeko said:
And yes, Harry Potter is better then Twilight.
Click to expand...
Even if you believe that you must admit it it's hardly head and shoulders above it in terms of quality.
Yet the same people who will one minute defend one mediocrity from any and all slights will the next declare that any fans of another mediocrity, which happens to be aimed more at the opposite sex, should be killed. That its the worst book ever. That no real human could possibly like it.

Odd that.



Oh and Buffy is awesome. A similar fiction with narrower appeal is no bad thing.
 
Can't we just stop arguing about who hates what and go back to our own thing?

I mean, jesus, it's like that one Dr. Seuss book in here. Y'know, the one where one gets a star and then everyone gets one and then an outcast makes everyone get rid of them?
Then in the end it ends up being about diversity because they learned to love each other instead of hating each other for what they like?

Yeah, we should do something like that.
 
The internet is not for arguing. Well I mean it is, but a different kind of arguing.

Bill O'RLY is a good source for arguing and old christian men yelling at people. You should watch that instead.

Better yet, you could go somewhere and buy a TV. Y'know, since the economy is so bad right now we need to get the money flowing again. Plus, you get to argue with people where you were meant to:

OUTSIDE TEH INTERNETS.

And you get to use your mouth and stop the carpal tunnel! Yay carpal tunnel!
 
....you're suggesting arguing with a TV program as a healthy alternative?
 
Yes. The best part is that it argues back sometimes when I get reeeeeeeally tired!

No, that's not what I'm suggesting. I'm saying to WATCH it and learn that it is not the right way to argue. Yelling and saying the same thing over and over never helps anything settle anything.
 
I was internet yelling? Oh, I hadn't even noticed!
 
Let's sit down together and look at an excerpt from Twilight.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together-their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond - a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps - all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself - and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty - it was very clear, almost translucent- looking - but it all depended on color. I had no color here.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at - I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket - which had the feel of a biohazard suit - and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me. I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not an encouraging response - and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bront?, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting ... and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

Anyone who thinks that can lead to a good book is nothing short of a moron. If I knew anyone in my life who actually liked this book, they'd be excluded immediately - at the very least.
 
Man, screw her. My old school had 60 people in it.
 
My high school graduating class was over 900* students.

SO THERE.

*0
 
Yorick said:
Let's sit down together and look at an excerpt from Twilight.


Anyone who thinks that can lead to a good book is nothing short of a moron. If I knew anyone in my life who actually liked this book, they'd be excluded immediately - at the very least.
Click to expand...
You're [being?] an idiot.
 
Hey guys this thread is really fun to read it's like walking over broken glass but only intermittently
 
I know, my favourite kind of thread. I wear boots. Metaphorical boots.
 
I'm not sure you could understand no matter how simply I explained it. Just try re-reading what you wrote several times, maybe you'll get it.
 
So guys, I'm dredging this up because I'm bored.

It's really funny because this is a book/movie series written by a woman, directed by a woman, watched by girls, and it's about a girl subjugating herself entirely to a man.

Then again, that's the Mormon philosophy, dontchaknow?

Cracked.com pretty much nailed this entire series' plot.

Oh, and:

Eejit said:
I know, my favourite kind of thread. I wear boots. Metaphorical boots.
Click to expand...

Were they made for walking?
 
What makes me mad is that Twilight isn't even worthy of this much negative attention.
 
Normally I wouldn't give it any but I'm bored stiff with a broken leg and my books have run out.

Actually, I have omegle but I come here as well trolling for shit to do.
 
Oh no, I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just as guilty. Unwarranted positive attention always brings about negative attention.
 
I think it's kind of hilarious that Robert Pattinson (main character guy) basically hates Twilight himself.

"When I read it I was convinced Stephenie was convinced she was Bella and it was like it was a book that wasn't supposed to be published. It was like reading her sexual fantasy, especially when she said it was based on a dream and it was like, 'Oh I've had this dream about this really sexy guy,' and she just writes this book about it. Like some things about Edward are so specific, I was just convinced, like, 'This woman is mad. She's completely mad and she's in love with her own fictional creation.' And sometimes you would feel uncomfortable reading this thing."
Click to expand...

http://www.ropeofsilicon.com/articl...rt-of-stephenie-meyer-and-her-twilight-series
 
Corp. Sheepo said:
Oh no, I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just as guilty. Unwarranted positive attention always brings about negative attention.
Click to expand...

Aw sweet, so I have your permission to slate Harry Potter more? :D
 
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