June 17th, 2015

Snarky Candiru2

Phil and Georgia's wedding as a predictor of events.

There are three very interesting things about the wedding that's due to show up next year if the reprints are still a going concern. The first very interesting thing is the fact that Lizzie balked at being a flower girl because the idea of being first terrified her. This, sadly, is because the same fear that led to her clinging to Elly's leg like a freaked-out barnacle as a pre-schooler reasserted itself when the old familiar peril of being alone and unprotected from the looming shape of nitwit malice that haunted the earliest years of her life was put on the table.

Speaking of said looming shape, the second interesting fact is that resentful chowderhead Mike made a nasty and stupid comment about how terrible it would be to be married to Lizzie and how whoever was 'meant' to be married to the horrible child who stole attention away from him had to run away lest his life be ruined by having to share.

Finally, we have to contend with the fact that Lizzie wondered who was compiling the traditional list of uncomplimentary garbage about her for the traditional wedding speech. The reason that I mentioned this is that we were told quite specifically which relative eventually got put in charge when Liz's fear of the scary outside world that wanted to hurt her and make her live alone forever and never be loved by her parents made her cling like a barnacle to the safety of another weakling who couldn't cope with the real world. The person in charge is the writer of the family: a sullen arsebucket who won't get over having to share the spotlight and won't admit that he's being a spoiled brat whining about toys he cannot have.

This can only mean that the wedding speech was more than likely a long-winded, poorly-constructed and overwrought mess that amplified the message "Run, Anthony, Run" to levels that should have been banned by the Geneva Convention. What's really appalling is not that Michael was given yet another forum to squeal like the unpalatable doorknob he always is about how simply awful it is that some horrible interloper got in the way of people waiting on him hand and foot. It isn't that he got all defensive when someone with class and brains (Hi, there, Mira) called him out on being a vindictive turd who thinks that the Sun shines out of his sigmoid colon. What makes me want to wring the filthy necks of any number of fictional characters is that his tsunami of rancid porridge was defended almost as vigorously as the idea that Liz should marry Anthony because he's the only man John isn't threatened by.