Nicole's Naughty Review of Avatar

As some of you already know, I did a serious-ish blog post on Avatar yesterday, over on my site. Mark Henry responded by berating me about not talking about the mud jism or the smurf sex, saying I might not really be a Leaguer for such an infraction.

So here it is:

Nicole’s Naughty Review of Avatar

First of all, where the bitch’s nipples? The dudes have nipples, and the women wear these necklace/breast plate thingamabobs that appear to be designed to cover nipples . . . yet there are no nipples! Sometimes there seems to be a hint of nipple, but then there is one scene where Hot Blue Princess Lady (henceforth referred to as HBPL) is leaning over Always Hot Even as a Racked Smurf Sam Worthington (henceforth referred to as AHERSSW) cause he’s taken a tumble, or something, and her necklace falls forward. Revealed there is her boobie, in all its perfectly globular globularity, SANS NIPPLES.


Secondly, we gotta talk about the braid/flash drive/possible genitalia. As my former student pointed out on my Facebook page, there’s a scene soon after AHERSSW gets his avatar in which he’s caught fondling the tip of his braid. Sigourney Weaver’s avatar says something like, “if you play with that you’ll get hair on your palms,” or some other antediluvian reference to masturbation. So I’m all, “Woah, they have hair sex! Weird! But I like the fact Cameron didn’t assume aliens would have the sex like humans do.”

Then the first thing I see AHERSSW sticking it to is not HBPL, in all her nippleless glory, but a SIX-LEGGED HORSE. I was like, “Woah, didn’t know it was gonna be this kinda movie!” Yeah the horse was a magnificent steed, but really? THEN AHERSSW sticks it to a flying dinosaur beastie, and then an even BIGGER flying dinosaur beastie. And then a TREE!

Finally, AHERSSW is deemed a man in the Racked Smurf society, and there’s a coy interchange between him and HBPL about whom he will choose as his mate. I was thinking, “”Finally, he’ll stick the braid to something OTHER than animals and random greenery.” But no! In what had to be one of the only genuinely awkward, unconvincing scenes of the movie (not least because I was surrounded, on all sides, by snot-nosed children), our Racked Smurf hero and heroine sort of grapple, and she sort of mounts him, and then it fades to black with their HAIR LYING PRONE ON THEIR BACKS! Do the large blue people need that little blue pill?

But after some thought, I think it makes sense that they can’t plug into each other. First of all, they all seem to be plugging it to half of the animals and trees they come across, so ewwwwww. Secondly, you seem to be able to “drive” whatever you plug your hair into. Imagine Al and Peg Bundy in that situation! They’d wrestle for control every time their hair melded. We’d know Al won if Peg had to cook him dinner, and we’d know Peg won if Al had to plug in a little suntin-suntin different than his hair. Get my drift? What if the two had melded and, say, HBPL won, and we learn that she has a hidden kink for playing horsie with her men? Next thing we know she’s got AHERSSW saddled and bridled. Or AHERSSW wins, and we learn he’s got crossdressing tendencies. Pretty soon, he’s frolicking around in HBPL’s slightly shredded purple tights and one of her (pointless) nipple-covering necklaces.

What I’m trying to say here is that if we could “drive” our partners during sex, the world would grind to a halt. And I’d like to credit James Cameron with figuring that out, as he obviously did. You, sir, are a sexual philosopher, like the Marquis de Sade! Only without the sewing shut of lady’s vagoos, and then fucking them, for which we are all grateful.*

So that’s my Naughty Review of Avatar. What do you guys think? Did you notice anything else when you watched the movie? And who else thinks that damned blue sapphire plunging into the sea at the end of Titanic was really a metaphor for the old lady kiestering it, so she could finally afford that Stairlift she’d been wanting for so long?

*That happens! In Justine! Or Philosophy in the Bedroom. They’ve run together in my mind. It’s just so hard to keep straight who the Marquis sews shut, and who he sodomizes with farm implements. Oh, those crazy Frenchmen!