Watched an episode of some daytime nonsense a while back — (“… you are not the father …”) it was just on don’t judge me — about women who refuse to be seen without a full face of makeup. Paint & spackle.

The husband of one woman had no idea what his wife actually looked like because she got up two hours before he did every morning to apply powder, concealer, foundation, blush, lips stuff, eye mess and whatever else to … reconfigure her face prior to greeting the day.

Ahh, no.  Hard to be a woman … even more so to be plain.

theKid showed me a Tok of the Tik trend with women doing before and after – “glowups” methinks – and my heavens … one girl didn’t even have teeth.  Debatable 8 afterwards tho’ so … magick(?)

Anyhoo, this show promised to chisel off all the makeup and celebrate the women’s “natural” beauty … why they would do that on TV, before an audience, and on tape, escapes me.

What was even funnier tho’ is that not one woman came on stage fresh face out of the shower … each one had on at least a light dusting and some gloss. 

This book is like a full face of makeup, trying really hard to be something that it is not.

I mean … it was okaaaay but tried too hard, and the writing came off …  desperate, like the author wanted to be better than he was. 

Which is fine.  Everybody wants to be more than they are, whatever that is, but not very enjoyable in a story.

“The Serpent’s Mark” by Robert Duncan.  Ehhh, could be a pass.  It was okaaaay, but … ehhh.

Right around the time Harris’ “Silence of the Lambs” splashed onto the scene – and how spectacular was that – bunch of copycat wannabes got published as well, trying to cash in on that cow.

Presciently gifted investigator.  Deranged homicidal genius with a vendetta.  A race against time.
Yah-da.  Yah-da.

But Thomas Harris has a gift.  Hannibal Lecter, MD is one of the greatest literary villains of all time and Sir Anthony Hopkins (pardon the pun / or don’t) absolutely killed that role, despite mispronouncing (maybe on purpose) “chianti” (it’s “kee-YAHN-tee” not “key-yann-ti” … whatever)

Cultured epicurean brilliance, with polydactyly and maroon eyes.  How could he not?

And don’t get me started (I will start myself ^{_{thankyouverymuch}}) re the movie Red Dragon v. Manhunter.

Absolutely no comparison.  Talk about trying too hard. 

Although Ed Norton was good in Primal Fear and American History X (that curb scene is still so very very cringe) his elitist pompous vibe is off the chart, little too much Heigl for me.  Even if you’re Daniel Day-Lewis writing with a foot, it’s all still just pretending.  So why so serious?

Did a good job as Bruce Banner but the Ruffalo has effectively claimed Hulk, now and forever.
(“I’m always angry.”)

Well, whatever.  Francis Dolarhyde was a freak, and Manhunter captured (heh) him perfectly.

Ralph Fiennes (I’m sorry; that’s supposed to be pronounced “Ralf,” not “Raif”) was so not it, and neither is this book.  Bob might have done better elsewhere, not impressed here.

I read it, kinda enjoyed it, but would not recommend it to anyone, least of all you (Other Person You). 

It’s not baaad, exactly just … not very good.  Too much makeup.