Whee! I'm a judge in the Cybils! This astounds me because it seems to indicate that someone somewhere thinks that I know what I'm talking about. Either that, or I'm the victim of a very elaborate practical joke. If this is a practical joke and you are the perpetrator, I simultaneously hate you and am impressed by you.
Anyway, this won't change much in the regular day-to-day business here at The Wonder That Is My Blog, except that I'm going to do a better job of keeping up with haiku reviews, and I'll be pairing them with longer reviews of Cybil-nominated books. But otherwise, you can expect the usual from me: all nonsense, all the time.
I need a t-shirt that says that.
Actually, I also need this t-shirt. See, I think I need to start a very important political movement. I'm talking big here, people. Marches on Washington big. Political rallies big.
Secret handshake big.
My goal is simple; my question is clear: Why do vampires get all the sparkles?
Because really, don't zombies deserve a little sparkle too? And Yeti. Poor sparkle-impaired Yeti. The tentacled monster that lives under your bed might be scary, but maybe that's because he needs a little lovin. Some sparkles would go a long way toward making him attractive to the opposite sex. I bet that Jason would have been a lot nicer to those kids at the camp if he was sparkly.
As writers, we have a responsibility to get our readers to think about the world they live in. We need to portray characters of different races and beliefs, to show the world in all its multifaceted, wonky glory. Our characters are role models. And right now, we've provided ample role models for undead, marble-skinned, sparkly vampires with angelic faces and perfectly tousled hair.
But the sparkly mutant wombats of this world are left hanging. And really, what's the fairness in that? Sparkles for everyone, that's what I say!