the national evil vs. sex and the city

It’s coming. No power on earth can stop it. Run! RUUUUN!

History shows again and again how the National Evil is devoted to the two most powerful forces in the universe: love and giant, horrible monsters. (Just looka the logo.)

What you, dear reader, might not know is that this obsession is somewhat bittersweet—for there was a time when the Evil dreamed of combining these two forces. And he was close—so close!—until. She. Ruined. Everything.

Who’s that? Sarah Jessica Parker, that’s who. Or what, because the Evil refuses to admit her into the ranks of humanity. Because humans contain the potential for decency.

You see, the Evil had been working on a script for a blockbuster disaster romance (this genre created exclusively for the film in question): Lovezilla vs. Tentacus. While the cityfolk in their millions stream screaming through the canyonlike streets of Manhattan, two giant, horrible monsters fight . . . but the viewer knows they aren’t fighting over territory, over an ancient grudge . . .

They’re fighting their love . . . for each other.

And oh yes: in the third act, they succumb to their love. Gloriously, uproariously, messily—all over the city. It was going to be beautiful. And ugly as hell. Beaugly?

Then Evil started seeing ads for a new show—set in Manhattan—starring Sarah Jessica Parker. And Evil, as he is wont to do, misread the title. He thought it was Sex on the City.

Sex ON the City? Evil cried. Obviously some hack had stolen his idea! In a fit of rage, Evil ripped apart his script, stomped all over his scale model of Manhattan, burned his Tentacus suit, and curled into a fetal ball to weep tears of blood.

It was only after the show’s premiere and the ensuing pop-cultural orgy that Evil found out the actual name of the show. And by then it was too late; his script-writing hand, the one scribbling furiously in the soul, was broken beyond repair.

And now—now!—there’s a Sex and the City movie. Damn you, Sarah J—must you reopen that wound and pour boiling yak’s blood into it?

Of course she must. That’s Hollywood for you: all giant, horrible monsters, but no love for the Evil.

Check back in 2009 for The National Evil vs. MechaSex and the City.

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