Seeing the phrase "French president" on a newsticker, I caught myself thinking, for a split-second, "Freedom president." Which was an amusing instance of additional backfiring from the heavy-handed attempt at lingustic engineering long since ridiculed into the ground, "freedom fries."
Something completely different:
In our world, things don't look like this, don't shift and reform and lose and regain their shape. The only things that do are fire, smoke and water, and none of those things are solid objects. These Transformers, though, they are solid, bewilderingly so. They attract and offend the eye, make you feel like you've missed something, stir a bookmarked desire to see the movie again.
Curse you Mr. Flower, I mean Notley. Now I'll probably have to see that movie and write an unbearably pretentious review linking it to Gonzalo Frasca's Videogames of the Oppressed.
Speaking of which, I'll be damned.
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