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amari_zSome reasons why I should never have made this Resurrection thing into a series, most of which illustrate Why Arthur should be the Once and Future King of America.
1. I have no idea how to make people speak in British English. I speak in a garbled version of American English, so that's all I can manage. Feel free to point out egregious and/or laughable differences. Though be warned, too much mocking and I may just have to go back to "Tools of the Trade" and change that handy explanation of how the knights can suddenly read and speak English (magic, you know), and make it speak American English. Why on earth would the magic make them speak American English, you might ask. Why not? It makes as much sense as anything else going on. Probably. Shut up.
2. I have no idea wherefanboy's Leighton D'Aubigny's house is. It's like a secret hideout, so secret that even I can't find it. Whatever. And you probably noted how I cleverly did not mention a name for the city that Arthur and Lancelot stroll around in "Out on the Town." I'm so subtle. This is all partly because I know nothing about England except vaguely where some battles happened pre-1700 and partly because I don't like making up my mind.
3. I know nothing about British politics except that Tony Blair is W's lapdog. And there are something called "MP"s that are not military police. What is Arthur's plan (or is it Merlin's plan?) to take control of the government? It's all comfortingly vague in my mind, like a hungry but sleeping lion. Please do not poke it.
4. I disturbed several of my long-suffering multi-national friends who have no idea what I'm up to with questions like--"do they have soap operas in England?" And--"what's a more polite term for bathroom in British English than loo--or is loo polite?" They're beginning to give me very strange looks. They may start avoiding me soon.
5. I know nothing about guns. Nor am I particularly interested in learning. I'm afraid if I type something like "guns most deadly" into Google the FBI will wiretap my phone and start secretly monitoring my internet activities (though they may already be doing so, given my dangerous subversiveness, illustrated by activities such as donating money to earthquake victims and saying things in public like I don't agree with the president and that he's both evil and a moron). They'll be bored to death, but who knows when I might decide to, I don't know, get a supreme court nomination, and then the whole world will hear tapes of me on the phone with my mom whining priceless lines like, "But moooom, I don't waaannnt to." Nor do I want the senate judiciary committee reading aloud certain parts of my fic on national tv. There are some things about your hobbies that your parents just should not know. And, dude, I get embarrassed sitting in the same room with them when there’s a sex scene on tv.
6. I have trouble planning my weekend much less coming up with a coherent plot that will lead to exciting things that make sense. Sense? Hah! No part of this thing makes sense. I think my brain is breaking. Shut up.
More to come, I'm sure. Look, I'm not pointing any fingers, but we all know whose fault this is. :p
And, yes, I am procrastinating again. On several, diverse levels, even.
1. I have no idea how to make people speak in British English. I speak in a garbled version of American English, so that's all I can manage. Feel free to point out egregious and/or laughable differences. Though be warned, too much mocking and I may just have to go back to "Tools of the Trade" and change that handy explanation of how the knights can suddenly read and speak English (magic, you know), and make it speak American English. Why on earth would the magic make them speak American English, you might ask. Why not? It makes as much sense as anything else going on. Probably. Shut up.
2. I have no idea where
3. I know nothing about British politics except that Tony Blair is W's lapdog. And there are something called "MP"s that are not military police. What is Arthur's plan (or is it Merlin's plan?) to take control of the government? It's all comfortingly vague in my mind, like a hungry but sleeping lion. Please do not poke it.
4. I disturbed several of my long-suffering multi-national friends who have no idea what I'm up to with questions like--"do they have soap operas in England?" And--"what's a more polite term for bathroom in British English than loo--or is loo polite?" They're beginning to give me very strange looks. They may start avoiding me soon.
5. I know nothing about guns. Nor am I particularly interested in learning. I'm afraid if I type something like "guns most deadly" into Google the FBI will wiretap my phone and start secretly monitoring my internet activities (though they may already be doing so, given my dangerous subversiveness, illustrated by activities such as donating money to earthquake victims and saying things in public like I don't agree with the president and that he's both evil and a moron). They'll be bored to death, but who knows when I might decide to, I don't know, get a supreme court nomination, and then the whole world will hear tapes of me on the phone with my mom whining priceless lines like, "But moooom, I don't waaannnt to." Nor do I want the senate judiciary committee reading aloud certain parts of my fic on national tv. There are some things about your hobbies that your parents just should not know. And, dude, I get embarrassed sitting in the same room with them when there’s a sex scene on tv.
6. I have trouble planning my weekend much less coming up with a coherent plot that will lead to exciting things that make sense. Sense? Hah! No part of this thing makes sense. I think my brain is breaking. Shut up.
More to come, I'm sure. Look, I'm not pointing any fingers, but we all know whose fault this is. :p
And, yes, I am procrastinating again. On several, diverse levels, even.
