Let me begin by saying that I write from a position of complete ignorance. It is from such positions that I commonly do my best work, and spend most of my time. You could say that Iím a blissful author. I have never read a Harry Potter book, watched a Harry Potter movie, or purchased a Harry Potter product. I must admit, however, to once eating a single booger-flavored Harry Potter jelly bean. Maybe that horrible little fleck of nauseating sugar is what ensconced in me such a hatred of all things Potter. Or maybe itís just the fact that Harold Q. Potter is a little faggot.
ďAlias, are you saying that cute little Harry, star of the silver screen and the pulpy page, is a GAY?Ē No, you stupid twit. I mean he sucks. I mean the books suck. His books serve as higher reading for adults, his movies not only are a pathetic commercialization of a fad but also insult humanity by catering to those too stupid to even read his ridiculous books, and the utter silliness, which I am normally a fan of, is just beyond me. Beyond all of this, every time I see a drawing of that little spell-chanting ass pirate, I get an almost irresistible urge to punch a kitten. And, as the rules apply in the modern blame-state, Harold X. Potter is a kitten murderer by proxy.
America is pretty stupid. I donít mean the mountains and buildings and sewage treatment plants that are the physical America. They are arguably the smartest pieces of matter on the continent. Itís the human denizens of this geographic booby hatch that piss me off. In any bookstore in the country can be found books that are hundreds of times more worthy of adult attention than Harry Potter. I speak of books that explain the mysteries of the Universe, among the piles of which one can pick and choose any custom cosmology and life plan and make anything of oneself that one chooses. Untold volumes of seldom-read genius lay under layers of dust, for the love of Potter.
Growed-up type adults are reading Harry Potter. This is a very sad fact, as well as the biggest problem posed by our young Harold U. Potter. Upon mentioning the sadness of this fact to the inmates of my particular penitentiary, I was assaulted with excuses and reasons for reading Potter. ďAlias, lay off, its just harmless fun.Ē ďOh, Alias, shut up. We need relaxation in our lives.Ē ďOh, fuck you guys, this shit is for idiots.Ē That last one, that was me.
If an American adult seeks mindless release from the immeasurable tension of being a welfare family in modern paradise, he needs only to turn on the television. There exists inside that magic little cube infinite hours of imbecilic antics written by imbecilic imbeciles for your viewing pleasure. And if fiction bores you, then inside the box there also can be found (gasp!) reality! Thatís right folks, if the cartoons and sitcoms and prime-time fuckfests arenít enough for you, you can turn your television into a kitchen window, through which can be seen all of the thrills and chills of life! Presumably, this is for those of us who have no life of our own, and must borrow pieces of othersí lives.
What? You say that the television isnít enough? You arenít dumb enough yet? Well, then, my friends, you can go on down to the local Cineplex and see stupidity twelve times life size! You can see stupidity in Technicolor! You can see stupidity in Cinemascope! You can watch some ass play with a laser pointer for an hour and fifteen minutes while you choke on your stale popcorn and drink your flat soda and pet your fat, movie popcorn-fed girlfriendís chest! All of this for only seventy-four ninety-five! You want more? Go to a strip club! More? Visit your relatives (always a ready source of stupidity)! And still you beg, more? Go to the monster truck rally!
I could go on for hours listing idiotic adult-type entertainment. I did, in fact, and then proceeded to delete a page and a half of it. You can just imagine the rest. With all of this stupidity, do we really need Potter? Do adults really need to sink low enough to invest the time required to sift through the thousands of pages of gibberish? Whatís next, Cat in the Cubicle? Clifford the Big Red CFO? Adults need to read adult things. Or at least porn. Not books written with ten-year-olds in mind.
Why any adults would get off on the antics of a twelve-year-old wizard in training boggles the mind. But only for a moment. If one studies the minds of those close by, one will quickly realize that the mind is very overrated. We are incessantly assaulted by people who are, to put it kindly, really dumb. It isnít noticeable on the surface, because it doesnít take much in the way of brain power to pass oneself off as an intelligent person. Just some friendly banter and the monkey-esque ability to maneuver a car suffice. Asking the average person to read a book is too much though. The limit of their mental capacity rests somewhere between guffawing at Tom and Jerry and guffawing at Sex and the City. Now the Harry Potter phenomenon is more understandable, as it resides safely within the range of everybodyís brain power. Nobody will look at you funny for reading brainiac material, like Dean Koontz or Ann Rice, and nobody will mock you for reading a childís book because everybody else read it too! How perfect!
Now that we understand the problem, I must suggest a solution, as I always do. From this time forward, all childrenís books will be kept under lock and key. Children will be allowed to read this dangerous material at will, provided they do not allow adults to access it. For any adults to access the material, a test must be passed proving that the adult in question is capable of explaining the intricacies of quantum physics, or casting spells - Potter style, thereby proving that they are far too intelligent to be harmed by the foolishness dripping from the books. Also, having passed the test, the adults in question prove that they do not need to read childrenís books, and can be refused access. Failing the test will result in a copper-jacketed brain implant. Through this campaign, and some simple eugenics, we can ensure the intellectual purity of the race, and finally be free of that little lightening-bolt-buttfucker Harold G. Potter.
Seig heil, and goodnight.