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Here's an idea: if I'm supposed to feel that an "army" is a legitimate threat to me, don't make them all look like Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue models.

I hate Twilight.

This should come as no surprise to anyone that knows me or follows Exercising Monsters at all.  I dislike the premise, loathe the characters, and despise the screaming fanbase.  I think that Bella is as healthy a role model as Courtney Love.  I think that Edward looks like a crackhead.  Jacob’s stupid hair needs to have about a million silver bullets pumped into it.

I haven’t even seen the movies, but I don’t feel that I have to, since the trailers that get released every fifteen minutes are all I need to come to the conclusion that this series is nothing more than a gaggle of whiny teenagers being played by a bunch of talentless 20-somethings laid out on a field of misty Pacific pine forests to an orchestral cinematic score that was headed for a war movie before getting waylaid by the Cullens.

And while the first movie had the decency to keep its head up its own ass by being – more or less – a crappy teenaged love story with strong undertones of emotional abuse, lately the series seems to have popped itself out to wave its poo-covered head around, screaming, “I’m an epic battle between good and evil! I’m an epic battle between good and evil”


I really could care less about this, except that the hype surrounding this movie has led to a significant jump in my blog site’s traffic, all because of this vampire post.  People searching for “Team Jacob” or “Team Edward” or “Team Crappy Derivative Fiction” keep showing up on Exercising Monsters in spite of the fact that the article is meant to be as derisive and condescending as humanly possible.

Twilight groupies: I don’t want you here!

Hey, it’s nice to pick up a random hundred extra hits a day, but when I see that they all originated from people that are looking for images of a topless, pasty Robert Pattinson to use as wallpaper on their laptops, I feel like I am aiding the popularity of something that needs to be staked in the heart by Bram Stoker’s zombie.