By: The Siberian Yeti, Self-Appointed Ruler of Bookshelfbattle.com Until Further Notice
Hello pitiful 3.5 readers. The Siberian Yeti here. I have heard that the American loser known as Bookshelf Q. Battler has occasionally escaped my surveillance and found ways to post onto this blog behind my back. Worse, his Intergalactic Correspondent, Alien Jones, has some kind of super computer that is able to post onto this blog without even having access to it. He must have a Commodore 1,064.
It is my understanding that this website is some kind of entertainment blog, operated by a lowly attention seeking nerd with nothing better to do with his free time than tell 3.5 people about his interests in books, film, and television.
This is apparently some kind of trend in the Western world. “Oh! Look at me! Here is a picture of my lunch! Oh, look! A picture of my feet on the beach!”
Blah. You know what they feed us for lunch in Siberia? Better you not know but let’s just say, you don’t want to see a picture of it.
All criticism of your annoying “look at me” American ways, I suppose if I am going to be the Self-Appointed Ruler of this Blog (forever apparently, since Hell will freeze over before BQB reaches 4000 Twitter followers), then I had best, how do you say, “go with the flow” and review some of my favorite Russian entertainment.
First up is Olga’s Stewstravaganza II – Electric Stewgaloo.
First, a warning. THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. Yes, pitiful Americans. All of the world there are people dying in shallow graves from all manner of diseases but the only thing that gets your ire up is when someone tells you what happens in one of your precious shows before you see it.
Second, if you have yet to see Olga’s Stewstravaganza Part One, I suggest you drop everything and go see it. Ha, one guy just googled it to see if it exists. That is funny.
But seriously, if you have not witnessed Olga’s antics in one, then you will never be able to comprehend two.
Part II picks up directly after the events of Part One. Frumpy peasant woman Olga, who wears a coat fashioned from cow hide and chicken feather stuffing (the height of elegance in Siberia) has just vanquished all of her enemies, the degenerate low lives who tried to get between her and her pot of stew.
Now, she is left to simply cook her stew in peace. And I must say, the suspense is unbearable. In the opening scene, we see Olga’s hand holding a paprika shaker. Will she add the paprika? Won’t she? Will she add oregano? Will she add the floor sweepings?
Answer to all three questions? Yes. I told you there would be spoilers. Stupid Americans. You never listen.
By the middle of the film, we are introduced to Olga’s love interest, Ivan. Ivan is a dedicated farmer. Here, I will translate his first scene for you:
INTERIOR – POLLING PLACE
Ivan, a tall burly man with a mustache that reaches to his chest, picks up a ballot. It reads:
ELECTION FOR PRESIDENT OF RUSSIA – PLEASE PLACE AN X NEXT TO YOUR SELECTION
1) Putin ___
2) Putin ___
3) Putin ___
4) Write-in Vote for Candidate Not Putin (Please attach instructions to your home, as well as times of day when you are asleep and at your most defenseless).
I won’t spoil it for you. OK I will. He votes for Putin.
Ivan then makes the long ride home to his village on a sleigh pulled by a team of twelve mangy, drooling oxen with flies swirling around their heads. The ride takes two hours, and the director ensures we are not spared one moment of it.
Upon arrival at the village, Ivan realizes he forgot his wallet at the polling place. We are left to watch the two hour journey back to the polling place, followed by the two hour return trip.
After six hours of driving oxen through the snow (a brisk 807 inches and therefore a mild winter for Siberia), Ivan passes out in front of Olga’s humble abode.
Olga brings Ivan in and revives him and the following scene transpires:
IVAN: Olga, this stew is delicious. What kind of animal did the meat come from?
OLGA: Do you trust me, Ivan?
IVAN: Da.
OLGA: Good. Because sometimes love means not knowing what kind of animal the meat in the stew you’re eating comes from.
“Sometimes love means not knowing what kind of animal the meat in the stew you’re eating comes from.”
I just wanted to repeat that for effect. What a wonderful, beautiful film. And you evil Americans give the Oscar to Birdman. Patooie. For shame.
Thank you 3.5 readers. I will try to be a better ruler of this site and bring you more reviews until BQB reaches 4000 twitter followers. And let’s be honest. That will never happen. Miley Cyrus will join a convent before that loser gets that many followers.
Bookshelf Battle 