I must start by saying that I was forced to read this garbage against my will. My manliness should therefore not be brought into question. I should also mention that vampires are incredibly awesome and Stephanie Meyer is just ruining it for everyone with her shitty excuse for a novel. Suffice to say, I’ve had better prose yelled at me by seedy mullet-ridden kids on the bus. Without further ado, here is why I would rather have tea with Adolf Hitler than read the rest of the Twilight series.

Before Stephanie Meyer became an “author”, scientists were using her skin for research. One day, people will be making mirrors out of it and using it to bleach their clothes. However, until such time as this research is completed, she is of no use to society. This is because she is a talentless excuse for a writer.

Twilight is vampire fetish porn for women. That’s all it is. Actually, the porn industry at least has some standards. I can imagine some big-shot porn director reading the book and going “Great – plenty of potential. But where’s the plot?” Unfortunately there is none. The entire book is just Stephanie Meyer’s pathetic sexual fantasy and she makes no attempts at trying to hide it. Here is a nice explanation I found:

In other words, Stephanie Meyer just wrote out what she gets off to every night and changed the name of the main character. Any moron with hands could do that. I don’t bother the general public with my bullshit sexual fantasies and neither should she.

To add insult to injury, the book was made into a film. Once again, I was forced to see it, and once again, I realised I should have put my eyes out instead.

I noticed a glaring fault with the film (that the director is an idiot) the moment I saw he gave Stephanie Meyer a brief cameo, despite her clearly being a face for novels. I will admit though that the film had almost one redeeming quality: a reasonably attractive girl was cast as the lead. That the movie contained a grand total of zero lesbian foot-fetish scenes with this actress bars this from actually being a redeeming quality.

You might also notice that casting an attractive girl goes completely against Stephanie Meyer’s original message: that even a three-hundred year old, immortal, infinitely strong Vampire with a perfect body and the face of a movie star, could fall enrapturedly in love with a chubby teenager with the personality of a wet blanket. This is the valuable lesson Meyer imparts to her twelve-year-old readership.

Well, Stephanie, I have a readership of my own. Listen up, readership. Don’t make my mistake. Avoid this poison at all costs.

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