Fifty Shades of Grey is the tale of Ana Steele, the lonely, boring, average, boyfriendless intern, who meets the gorgeous, fit, well-hung, 26 year old billionaire (yes, billionaire) Christian Grey, who spends his free time speaking fluent French, flying jets and helicopters, feeding the starving children in Africa, and playing the works of Beethoven on piano as beautifully as the composer himself. Yes, that's right ladies, he's the perfect man... well, he's what a gaggle of giggling teenage girls think is the perfect man, except this novel wasn't written by 15-year-olds. Maybe if it was, it might be better, but no, it was written by a middle-aged woman.
Christian, who never actually works (for a guy who runs a billion dollar company), obsesses over this plain-Jane and writes up a contract he wants her to sign, which allows him to do anything to her sexually that he pleases, and yes, Christian is into some freaky ass shit. But before he beats her with whips and chains, he has to take her virginity, because she's a virgin who's never had a boyfriend and never even touched herself, and come on, how annoying is that?
So he insists on taking her right then and there, and when he deflowers her, not only does it not hurt her, but she orgasms roughly 2-million times (even just from him touching her breasts), a trend that continues throughout the rest of the books--her orgasming millions of times in his presence--which is a totally realistic portrayal of a virgin's first experience with sex.
No, you moron, she doesn't need medical attention! She needs Mr. Grey's pulsating man-sword to fix this awful "virginity" problem we seem to have!
And so they went off to a broom closet to get that whole "virginity" annoyance out of the way. But don't worry, folks, dear Ana losing her virginity wasn't rape, because Christian Grey is a handsome trillionaire, which makes it totally okay. It would have only been forceful and distasteful if he was an average looking man with little to no money.
After being deflowered, she happily signed his rape contract so the beatings could begin.
From there is loosely 1500 pages of sex. And angst. Sex and angst, angst and sex. And some flogging. Because who needs a real plot when you can have a couple constantly break up and get back together and have violent sex?
|Avid 'Twilight' author and Mormon sexpert, Stephenie Meyer.|
And then, after all that violent sex, the first book ends on a huge cliffhanger. Or at least we the brain-dead audience are supposed to believe it's a cliffhanger.
And that's it. They break up, leaving us to wonder what will happen in the next 2 books. Oh wait, that's right, we already know what happens since there's TWO MORE BOOKS.
Or maybe it is. I don't know. At this point, as this heap of literary dogshit is being gobbled up by the yardful on the bestseller lists, I begin to question my sanity. I mean, maybe chihuahua turds taste good after all. What do you think? Have any of you dared take a bestselling bite?
Cheers and stay classy, folks,
Beer: Colorado Native