My, how the year has flown by. We've had some pretty good times, haven't we? I'm just so happy to have made so many new and exciting friends!! I just wanted to say, toodles for 2008 and can't wait to get back in touch with all of you in 2009! I think it's going to be a very big year. We might even buy a new purebred puppy and get back on the show circuit (I think it's time!)

Anyway, I've been so glad to meet you all. Thanks again for all the lovely messages and gifts you sent to my PO Box (especially the ones where the body was still warm.) Lots of love, I hope the Zombie Jesus is good to you all!

Love,
Vonette.

Hello, children of MySpace!

So yes, as you may or may not know, I have so much spare time when not taking naps on my bed which uncannily resembles a pile of money, that I like to dream up screenplays and pitch them to major Hollywood studios. This is a recession! Any idiot can write and produce feature film these days. If I find you ripping my ideas off, I will come and hunt you down and kill you, then paint your hideous dead face with black metal clown make up. So please don't steal! I know how tempting it must be though.

Five Television Shows I'd Like to See Turned into Feature Films

 

The Sopranos

 

Proving that not even death could dampen Adrianna's status as everyone's favourite character, she returns from the grave – as a zombie. Carmella is relived to have not been hallucinating all those times she thought she saw her, though is wary of spending too much time alone with the undead. Tony was fine, it turned out he had just slipped off to the bathroom. Silvio has happily returned to his secret life as guitarist in Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band. The economic downturn forces major lay-offs among the Five Families, consolidated into the rebranded 2.4 Families. No one knows or cares what happened to AJ.

 

Seinfeld

 

Seinfeld takes unexpected turn when the Sopranos' writers are drafted on the back of the huge success of their zombie feature. The Seinfeld cast are adjusting to prison life, their surroundings more like those seen in HBO's hard hitting Oz than the bustling streets of New York to which they are accustomed. Familiarity is restored when the Soup Nazi accepts a transfer to the prison kitchen. Peterman visits Elaine to research the biography he is writing about her. Seinfeld and Jerry find that 'the Contest' is vastly different in prison and Kramer pens a new coffee able book about correctional facility furnishings. Susan returns from the dead – as a zombie.

 

Friends

 

Seeing as the cast of Friends always seemed to spend almost all their time drinking coffee and almost none of their time working, they altogether find themselves evicted from their enormous Manhattan apartments. On learning that Jerry Seinfeld's apartment uptown is empty, all six friends – Phoebe, Monica, Ross, Chandler, Joey and Rachel – drastically downsize and move in together. Things are going great until an unexpected turn of events, when Kramer's also vacant apartment across the hall is filled by new tenants: ex-Friends guest star Brad Pitt, his partner Angelina Jolie, their six children and their new pet, Smelly Zombie Cat.

 

Dexter

 

Homicidal maniac/crime scene investigator Dexter (who vets these job applications?) finds himself in a world of trouble when one by one, his done-away-with victims return from the dead – as zombies. The doubly-evil undead army of murderers promises to return quietly to the underworld, on one condition – that Dexter submits to joining their ranks. Not being able to tell the difference between the previous pale-faced, unfeeling, blood-thirsty Dexter of yesterday and the Zombie Dexter of now, everything is fine when his clueless colleagues, relatives and girlfriend continue in their blissful ignorance of his double life, even once he starts gnawing on their flesh. [WHAT IS WRONG WITH FORMATTING OF THIS STUPID PARAGRAPH?? -Ed]

 

Baywatch

 

Taking a well-deserved break from killing people, Dexter heads to sunny Los Angeles for some timeout at the beach. While swimming in the crowded surf with several babelicious lifeguards, he cannot resist taking a large bite out of Pamela Anderson, and so panic erupts in the greater LA area when a band of swimsuited zombies led by David Hasselhoff swiftly begin to terrorise the city. Protected as they are inside the prison walls, it falls to the cast of Seinfeld to save the human race, but instead they remain where they are, arguing about if or not George's shirt button is off-centre until they die of starvation.

UPDATE: Wait, wait WAIT! You know that I have all your comments printed and FedEx'd to my stronghold, right? (Especially touching ones are framed, or reproduced on gold leaf). So, it has come to my attention that I have confused Death and Black metal, which is something similar to calling a dolphin a porpoise, yes? In any case, terribly sorry for the mix up. I have been patiently waiting for someone from Mayhem, or Crazy, or Insane Clown Duo, or whoever to come and kill me. To wit, they have failed. Carry on!

>>

I think we can all agreee that there is nothing funny about The Metal:



Clearly? Right. We agree. Norweigan Death Metal specifically, is so serious a phenomenon that it is the subject of this new book of photojournalism, (please enjoy the pig's heads on stakes at your own leisure. Some blogs have standards.) For me, everything about these images screams, 'FEAR ME!' and not 'WHAT?' Or 'The hell is wrong with the social order of Norway?' or, 'OMFG, LOL! Guys, I just wee'd my pants a little.' Nope. This is A-One SERIOUS SHIT.



'Hey, check me out. I'm totally bummed that it rained on me on my way home from the KISS tribute show, right after I did the bass solo and the blood spitting thing. I know, epic, right? FUCK YOU NOONE IN KISS IS BLONDE!'



'DUUUUUUUUUUDE! METAL, DUUUUUUUUUUDE! I am totally shredding the fuck out, here! Oh wait, I have to go get mom the Christmas tree like I promised. BRB.'



'Hi, me again, yes. Had to get moody black and white version, see? Good. That lady? She was totally fucking loosing her shit when she saw me, she was so scared. Like all, 'Eeeeeeeeeeeeek! HALP ME!' I know! Look at her run!'



'I LOVE TREEEEE! TREE = FRIEND. HI THERE, YOU TREEEEEE! YOU, ONE DERE, YOU MY FAVOURITE! LOVE YOU, TREEEEES!'



'EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME!! THERE IS A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN OUT IN THE FRONT BAR AND I AM SERIOUS YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MIND ABOUT HOW GOOD IT IS! GO FUCKING NUTS!!'



'See, guys, I told you my experiment of breeding myself with a cat would pay dividends, DID IT NOT? Now I will end you, etc. Grrrr. Etc.'



'I CAN'T FIT. YOU AND ME. AND MY SCYTHE. IN. THE DAMN. FUCKING CAR! I should never have bought it, just because it's the colour of blood. IDIOT.'



'God, you fucking IDIOT. I TOLD you this was for my new MySpace profile picture! Why did you get all those gay little mountains down the bottom like that? Oh, to make me appear enormous and all-conquering? Wait, wait... I love it! Also, I'm sending this one to mom, she loves to see me enjoying the outdoors.'

Yes, hello! I've been busy, as usual, chickens. Not time to be on the old MySpaces ALL THE TIME, EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY. There are other things in life! Like attending the pardoning of turkeys. That was moving for everyone. If by 'moving' you are referring to my bowels. Oh, I'm sorry! Didn't mean to 'overshare' (I know that's what the kids are really into these days. I JUST WANT YOU TO LIKE ME.)

Anyway! I was very excited to listen to the new Guns N' Roses album. I had heard a lot of good things about them. Also, I enjoy both gardening and privately arming my house for the coming Apocalypse, so the name alone sounds promising!

Unfortunately, the album was terrible.

Now, I realise that there are many people reading this who would not have even been born when the last Guns N' Roses album was released. That was back in my day! No internets then! NO no no, it was all smoke signals and tin whistles. Anyway! I think it's safe to say that there is a direct correlation between the exact crapitude of Chinese Democracy and the sharp, sharp decline of Axl Rose's face. To wit:

THEN:



Hubba, hubba. Etc.

NOW:



WTF, OMG, Etc. Especially his chest. Is that one, pink boob there?
LOOK AWAY!

So, there are many, many people who could have once been considered
'good' who are now firmly in the camp, 'terrible':

Courtney Love:



Courtney Love, you used to be so rad. And married to that guy,
whoever he was. Don't listen to the people who say that you killed
him. So listen, however to the people who are telling you to stop
MESSING WITH YOUR FACE YOU FREAK:




Gene Simmons:


OK, so perhaps Gene Simmons was never what anyone would call
exactly handsome. But he wasn't always a hideous beast either:


GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!
Q: when was the last good KISS album? A: Never.

Elton John:



Perhaps this is not a great example either. While not exactly
the best looking dude ever, at least Elton John used to make
good albums. Now we have to listen to piles of tripe like
the Lion King. Like Cher would ever go out with you now:



Billy Corgan:



Oh, sweet Billy! How did things go so wrong? From Siamese
Dream to your insistence on wearing that weird dress made of
silver flaps. Black in the spacebulb for you, Eggy! Maybe that's
where all the good songs went!



Madonna




Remember when Madonna used to be awesome? No? Thanks to the last few years, neither do I.



And finally, to answer your reader questions. My favourite kind of cake is chocolate with sprinkles.

Thanks for playing, everyone!

xx
V.

***BREAKING NEWS***
World On Road to Recovery! Let The Un-raping Begin!




Hello Children,

You wouldn't believe what a quagmire of tripe there is over at a well known video sharing website! The 'commentary' there gives even you uneducated, illiterate masses a run for your nickels. You should feel proud -- there are people vastly stupider than you out there! And just to prove it, I'll lay them out for you here.

Though my good friend you all remember (how are you liking the page views sugar? Someone of your calibre cannot get enough sloppy seconds tossed their way!) really is some kind of auteur ('Hey, look at how retarded this video I made is! That's because it's meant to be, duh! HAHAHAHAHA! Whoa, that is some crazy reverse psychological shiznit, dudes!'), and definitely is not stupid. Infact I'd call it cute. Creativity is cute, everyone! Especially when mixed liberally with GETTING OFF THE INTERNET.

HOT PEPPER GUY:


Dear me, young man. Jalepenios are not that hot. At all. It's not like you can die from eating them or anything! Infact, they are totally an acceptable breakfast snack, and my boyfriend Steve and I, enjoy them regularly. You'll never catch him rolling around of the floor, screaming and clutching his face like some demented inbred baby. No way! He's aaaaaall man!

ALL OF THESE PEOPLE:


OK, tattoos are forever. Also: fire hot, sky blue.

THE GUY RIDING THIS BIKE:


Wow. That's bad. Except that people hurting themselves is really, really funny! Look at them all, hurting themselves. I know this one looks fatal, but the lady was ok. I swear! Look! She's a total babe. But getting hit in the face with a motorbike must suck. Lucky reporters are there, risking life and limb to bring us the stories that matter. But seriously, dude, did you get your license from inside a cereal box?

CHRIS MARTIN:


Coldplay are easily the worst band in the history of music. They are many many millions of times shittier than Nirvana. Chris Martin, the poor moppet, seems confused most of the time about who is he. Well, Chris Martin, you are not Bono and your band is not U2. Coldplay are more like Nickelback. Yes, Coldplay are to U2 as Nickelback are to Nirvana. Please Chris Martin, go back to Gwenyth and spilt a macrobiotic eggwhite milkshake, you talentless numbnuts.

SARAH PALIN:


People of MySpace, for once I am not joking. Sarah Palin is not only the stupidest person on the internet, she is quite possibly the stupidest person on the planet. To have ever lived on it, perhaps. Yes. SO, my fellow Americans,  it is time to vote, and if you put a geriatric old man and a woman who's never left her home country in the place of an alcholic, ex-coke addicted chickenhawk dipshit, then hell -- things are much worse than they appear. I don't however, believe this will happen. No no no, you have learned! BELIEVE. There will be a great party this week. Hot peppers for everyone!!

Hello Friends! So much love in the air, and most all of it directed at me! I can hardly get over it sometimes, I feel so blessed, as special people so often do. Feeling special and loved is our birthright. I especially feel the love when it gets to the end of the day, when I like to make my Reflections. Some of my Reflections ('Reflections' being the title of my next book, coming out on Pan MacMillan in 2009) are usually things like 'Have I done enough to bring love to the world today?' 'Have I been the best version of myself?' 'Is this haircut really working for me?' Because if there's one thing that we can all agree on, it's that all that matters in life, is being popular. Even if that means doing things that you don't think are right! Even if it means pretending to like things you hate! Personal taste and courage mean NOTHING in this world! It's all about how good you look in a bikini. That, and liking the right music at all times. And leaving LOTS AND LOTS of blog comments. Because very powerful people are reading this blog, you just don't know it. It's a special surprise that will be revealed soon to all the special people -- it's your birthright!

Anyway! I'm getting ahead of myself! Firstly, I would like to thank all the hugely talented artists who have sent me so many beautiful portraits this week! This one especially, is I feel, very creative:


Don't you think? It must have taken hours! So thankyou, whoever you were, I'm sorry I forgot your name. If you were thinking of becoming a graphic designer, I say, go for it! But remember, noone likes a show-off! You are at least as good, and as at least as unfunny as this cartoon, and they gave these people money! Look:



Some commonly asked questions I get are usually things like, 'Hey, B*itch=, what DO you like? Do you hate EVERYTHING?' and 'Vonette, I'm gonna, to *&#^ing  get a  *&^$ing gun and come to your %*&#ing house and ^&#( your ^%(* you dumb &(*7 !!!!!!!!!!' and, 'WAI DUN U MASTEBAIT 2 UR TEARS?' which frankly, I couldn't really understand as your command of English seems tenuous at best. However, what do I like? This is an important part of getting to know someone! Well, I really, really like that Sarah Palin. She's a strong, smart woman! Also, I totally enjoying huntin' and shootin', especially wolves from a helicopter. That is so much fun! So, I'd really like to meet Ms Palin and her amazing looking family, I can't think of anyone better at running the free world. How exciting! Just look at how smart she is:

Tina Fey as Sarah Palin SNL skit


She's got my vote!

And lastly, what kind of music do I like? Well, I know that there are a lot of young men out there who've been sending my love letters and asking for my address so they can send me photos and something called a 'mixtape' (is it like cake mix? What fun!). Well, I really, really love Celine Dion, as I've mentioned before. She is the epitome of talent! She just emotes with so much love, you look at Celine, and you know that she is someone who practises her Reflections, and as a result, everyone loves her! This is my favourite song of hers. I'll leave you with it's beautiful message and wish you all the best for the week!

Celine Dion - Titanic - My Heart Will Go On ~music video~


xxx
Vonette.

AND ONE LAST THING, my little trilobites! Though I encourage free speech as much as the next douchebag (as long as you agree with me), I do not encourage, advocate or in any way condone racist, homophobic, sexist,
demeaning or any content otherwise that suggests you have indeed let someone a drill a hole in your skull and pour scolding hot water into it,
you neophyte, philistine asshats. You will be dealt with severely, you will never get to second base, acne will sprout from your back (AGAIN!) and any time you try to log into your computer hereafter, you will face this alert screen, over and over and over and over:

***UPDATE*** What I'm thinking here, is that you need more proof:



Please, as you were! And remember, if you want your name in lights, send me
an email. The more mortifying your dilema, the better.

x
V

>>

You know what, faceless hordes? You keep telling me that I am incorrect about, well, everything. And I'm here to tell you that this is just not so. Things cannot be many things at once, they either are, or they are not. This is a physical law. Unless you were Batman, in which case you would be half man, half bat. I can say certainly on this point also, that you are not Batman. Clearly. Not even Michael Keaton or Christian Bale or George Clooney or Adam West can decide who Batman is. So shut up about it already.

It has taken me some time, children, to come to this conclusion. The various slings and arrows of your at times psychotically murderous hatred (remembering that my manservant reads ALL of your comments, then writes each of them out my hand, binds them in leather and passes the seventeen volumes on to me, which I then read over a bottle of red while I soak in a bubblebath) did give me pause to think that perhaps yes, I was wrong. Maybe Nirvana DID have something to offer that I had missed. But then I reasoned no, shooting oneself in the face is not such a great example for the young people and only someone who thought of themselves as a massive fraud would have done such a thing. So no, Nirvana remain the most overrated band of all time.

In the world of popular culture, there is no such thing as 'personal taste'. This is just a fact of deductive reasoning. Something is either awesome, or exceedingly terrible. That is all. You want someone to tell you what to do, say, think, feel, eat and wear. That is why I am here. I will help you help yourselves. So, from now on, you can send me your queries about love, life and the universe, and I will answer them, for all of MySpace to see. So a few things I might suggest doing before you write to me are a) learn to spell, and b) keep swearing to a minimum or else it makes it hard for me to reproduce your splendid prose without having to type '_________' every third word. OK? Excellent!

So lastly, here is some further proof that I, Vonette Cherry am irrefutably right about everything and you, in the main, are wrong, wrong, wrong:

MUDVAYNE:

I'm so glad to see that Mudvayne, based solely on my personal advice, have decided to stop dressing as clowns, and rather, are presenting their true, noble and serious selves to the world:



I mean, why would you possibly want to hide behind facepaint? Shame that your music still makes me want to reach my hand down the throat of the nearest person and rip out their intestine. But still, encouraging!
Verdict: Clowns are idiots.

Jimi Hendrix Listens To Me:

Look, you got a bit upset about that whole overrated albums thing, I get it. Not that I'm saying you don't have a right to an opinion, but you're wrong. But really, look what happened after that story -- Jimi Henrix is now playing the guitar the right way!



Verdict: being really, really good at Guitar Hero on Expert is shorthand for being an expert on everything, such as I am.

Teenagers Today Are Truly Insufferable:

And it's not just you emos, with your Jared Letos and 30 Seconds To Marses (by the way, getting there would take a lot longer than that), no. It's worse than that. Your whole generation is without hope -- as typified by this guy:



Verdict: you all need to get off the internet.

That is, unless you put your faith me. I look forward to your letters!

kisses,
Vonette.

Bruce Springsteen DOWNBOUND TRAIN (Paris FRA 1985, june 29)


Dear Joe,

Yes, we've all been riders on a downbound train at some stage or other in our lives. Infact, I used to catch one daily, as the geographical location of my office in relation to my home required as much. However, Joe, not all of us were lured into a life of crime as a result, as we can all surmise you were. To swing a sledgehammer on a railroad gang, as you crow, is not as such a particularly ringing endorsement of your career trajectory since your wife left you. Neither does it do much for your future prospects as regards finding a new wife. Because I'm here to tell you Joe, that things aren't so bad for you. You can, nay, you will find love again. Isn't that your dutiful role as a good Springsteen protagonist of the against all odds variety? Were you not born to run, free, in the general direction of Thunder Road? To, as an American, never retreat or surrender? That's right, Joe! So it is! Joe, buck up! Noone wants to hear your boring stories about your glory days such as they passed you by in the blink of a young girl's eye! You're better than that, Joe. Your tune is infinitely more catchy.

Things are not so bad. Times are not as you say, hard. Not especially.

I realise as the mister (no mind that I am a woman, I get where you're going with it regardless) to whom you so vehemently assert that you once had something going in this world, what with your job, and your girl (I don't see that this speaks of an especially ambitious outlook on your part, but whatever Joe. I understand you were previously happy, I'm following), and though you don't mention either your girl by name, or your job by title, I take you as trustworthy, Joe. Let us continue.

Everyone has been fired at some point in their life, Joe. It is a statistical inevitability of the modern age. You should take solace in this. What can have been so great about whatever it was that you did at the lumber yard anyway? The likelihood of accidentally lopping off your own hand with a chainsaw was far greater there than it was at your next place of employment, the carwash. Though I think you are exaggerating somewhat to claim that the location of the carwash was somewhere where it rained constantly, equally you should realise there are people, say people living in the middle of the Kalahari desert, who would give their left leg to live in such a place where rain is reportedly so plentiful. Additionally, I'm sure there were other great things about the carwash that you left out of your story, should you care to remember them now.

Joe, everyone's heart has been broken. Again you are not alone in this, and rather you should look to the many advantages that the clean resolution that was the end of your relationship provided you. Instead of wandering through life in a ceaseless state of unresolved torment, howling into the void WHY?, the reason for the end of your relationship with your girl could not have been made more plain. It is staring you in the face. She even told you, Joe. You had it once, you ain't got it anymore. Simple. It is over. That is why she packed her bags and left with a ticket for the central line, Joe. Relationships end. Plenty more fish in the sea, as they say! You'll feel the kiss of another girl in the misty rain, Joe! Isn't that a lovely thought?

Firstly though, Joe, we should address the issue of what appears to be your severe mental imbalances. It's okay, there are a great number of highly effective drugs available these days Joe, here in the modern age. If you are, as you report, hearing voices in the night, specifically the crying, crying voice of your ex-wife, you must understand Joe, that they are not real. This is not really happening. I guess though, that you discovered as much after running through the woods in your jacket and breaking into a house, which you believed to be yours by the side of a highway. I suppose, bearing in mind your current state of incarceration, Joe, that I do not need to remind you that breaking and entering is illegal. I also suspect, that nothing good can come of spending your nights in the woods. What were you doing out there, Joe?

Neither do I mean to cause you any degree of embarrassment by saying -- and here I speak on behalf of all women -- that there is nothing manly about dropping to one's knees and hanging one's head and crying. This is pathetic, Joe. Not least when your tears where spurred by something as innocuous as the whine of a train whistle! Many thousands of people hear these at all hours of the day, all over the world, Joe, and they are unlikely to be found bawling in an empty room, complaining of a pounding head. Perhaps Joe, if your chest really had exploded, and this was not just a further figment of your imagination, then you would have had something to briefly cry about.

Joe, actually, you know what? There is no hope for you. Your place in Mr Springsteen's canon of protagonist losers remains cemented. I'm sorry to have wasted your time, during which you could have no doubt knocked down several of them cross ties on the railroad. If you are now behind schedule, I apologise. I hope there is no punitive action taken against you. This is very important work that you are undertaking Joe. Please, as you were! (Feel free to supply this letter as a absent note to your on duty officer.)

Apologies.

Ok. So here's Kid Rock in the video for his latest single/horrible mauling of Lynard Skynard, "All Summer Long":

Kid Rock - All Summer Long Music video


So, if you believe the story laid out here in "All Summer Long", you might believe that before he grew up to become America's favourite yokel/steal Pamela Anderson from the loving arms of Tommy Lee, Kid Rock (or as he was then known, Little Kid Rock) cavorted around Michigan, er, all summer long with a girl who looks a lot like a young, pre-surgery Pamela Anderson. You know, we might buy that bit Kid Rock. And the houseboat full of girls in bikinis, and the spontaneous beach party, and the patently erroneous "Rock" part of your name. Maybe. What we aren't buying though, is the "I swear, I looked just like I do know, only younger and better looking" thing. Because you're lying, Kid Rock. This is what you used to look like:



So D-Rock is all like, "you grow up to marry Pamela Anderson?"

Kid Rock: "Yup."

D-Rock: "You?"

Kid Rock: "Yup."

D-Rock "..."

Kid Rock: "Yup."

D-Rock "..."

Kid Rock: "Yup."

D-Rock "And you sell millions of records?"

Kid Rock: "Yup."

D-Rock: "You?"

Kid Rock: "Yup."

D-Rock "Shit is fucked up."

Kid Rock: "Yup."