Tag Archives: Sons of Anarchy

A Letter to a Modern-Day Adonis


Dear Charlie Hunnam,

As I have stated in my post title above, you, Charlie, are a modern-day Adonis, and so must be the recipient of my latest letter. Kudos to you.

It is true, you are best known as the tortured soul Jax Teller from Sons of Anarchy, and while I have not been privy to much of your other work, I do believe the multitude of sex scenes with delectable ass shots in SOA may have had something to do with that. (It’s like two scoops of butter pecan ice cream…) I must admit, there are very few nude males that I would gladly torment my eyes with, (as I am very much a boob gal, and do so adore a good titty display) but you, kind sir, are welcome to remain naked in front of my vision indefinitely.

It is still a bit disturbing to me that you hale from Newcastle upon Tyne. As well-read as I am, I had no idea what the fuck that meant, but investigated enough to find that it was somewhere in England. Cheeri-o, mate! I actually hope to never hear your original accent, which I assume is British, because you seem to be so down-to-earth and not at all pompous as generally English people tend to be. However, if you ever decide you wish to share your man-meat with me in a carnal fashion, I will allow you to adopt whatever foreign crappy accent you deem appropriate. Just know that I am not quite certain what my reaction may be if I hear, “Tha’ wus fookin’ gright, love.” after we’ve spent ourselves. I may be forced to shut you up by sitting on your not-quite-shaven face.

You may be delighted to know, too, that even my very straight Rockstar has taken notice of your perfectly-sculpted physique. He does not blame you in the least for incessantly posting shirtless pictures of yourself on your official Facebook page. “After working out like hell to look like that, can you blame him?” were his exact words. I think you may just have a chance with him…

I seem to recall having watched a little-known movie a few years back starring you, in which, I’m sure, you were superb. Sadly, I do not recall you being naked, and so it was not noteworthy. Do not get me wrong, oh Gorgeous One- you need not be bare-assed for me to adore you. I can prove it is true by saying I’ve had two dreams in which you starred, neither of which you were nude in. (Sadly.) I must ask: why weren’t you naked in my dreams? I mean, for real. What the fuck?!

I do not think you are aware of my ….fetish for long-haired men. Let me only say that when your hair is of a shorter ilk, I would not so readily do you. But, if you were there lying naked in my bed, I suppose I could lower my standards a tad so as not to waste a good boner.

I applaud you for turning down the role of Christian Grey in the movie version of Fifty Shades. As beautiful as you are, not even you could have saved it from sucking balls. Although, if you had retained the role, I would have, of course, rushed out to buy the DVD no matter how terrible the film was, if only to see you shirtless and spanking someone. Do not be discouraged. I will write for you a well-written smutty book that can be turned into the biggest blockbuster of all time.

In closing, I would like to say that you, Charlie Hunnam, have almost cured me of my insane love for Christopher Meloni; I haven’t dreamed of him since you came into the picture.

Always yours, (even if it is only in my dreams)

Sparklebumps XOXO

 

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A Response to a Hater


Almost a year ago, a wrote a letter to Tara Knowles, the fictional character in Sons of Anarchy, HERE. It seems there were many SOA fans who agreed with the contents of that letter; so many, in fact, that it has become the single most shared of my posts on Facebook. Sadly, we cannot all agree on how wise and generally hilarious I am, which leads me to my next post, a letter to “Tara’s biggest fan”, the person who left this comment on that post just the other day:

Tara’s biggest fan!

Fuck you and this post. Tara loved Jax more than anything. He chose the MC and his ‘mommy’ over a girl who could have and should have done way better. But instead trusted her heart that she could wait out and he would change. Became a mother to his first son while he left her alone to have his second while he was in the pin. Because of him and his false promises she lost the use of her hand that provided an out for their family, lost the love of her life to his club and bitch slut control freak druggie mom…and chose to raise her sons HIS sons so much she was the clear conscience he couldn’t be she was loyal to her role as a mother over herself and her piece of shit cheater ass husband. She lost her life trying to do what he wanted but couldn’t. She went to jail for his club duties and see how being loyal to her husband and the mc got her….it turned her into gemma which was the level she had to get on….to protect her sons from their father just like gemma did. She was the best thing that ever happened to jax, those boys, the mc, & charming! She’s the only thing that DID make sense in that show. She sacrificed everything for love and just when her husband decided to be a man and take credit for all the shit he’d caused her to do and become… once again crack hore slut bitch mom protects her baby boy….

For u to say she is ugly and deserved to die.. you must be a gemma skank ass bitch that gets off by homewrecking real relationships and it helps you sleep at night because you have NO respect or pride for yourself. If u hate her so much you must love Wendy. Well, I hope you are the pussy jax runs too and have a mother in law like gemma that stalks ur ass and leaves u know room to be alone wirh ur man or ur kids and u get stuck between becoming a bitch or serving as an old lady with no place ro speak ur mind if a man doesnt allow it…. u must think porns a real buisness of respect and killing innoscent people for sport is fun too huh?

I just thought I’d be the one to stand up for Tara and what she stood for on a page that everyone seems to have lost their minds and be Gemma themsleves. you must be a gemma skank ass bitch that gets off by homewrecking real relationships and it helps you sleep at night because you have NO respect or pride for yourself. I wish u the best in your life…because tight pussy and a pretty face only gets you so far until youre used up stretched out and he throws ur wringly ass out. Then what do u have to show for respecting urself??

I must respond, and defend my “tight pussy and pretty face that will only get me so far.”

Dear Tara’s Biggest Fan, (and hater of Gemma),

I respect your opinion and your devastatingly noble devotion to any fictional character, namely one Tara Knowles.

That being said, your comment gave me great pleasure, and continues to give me great pleasure as I respond in kind to it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Firstly, I would like to address the bluntness with which you begin your comment. “Fuck you and this post.” You say. Being an eternal fan of the ever satisfying “fuck you”, I must say that I admire your quick and unadulterated use of the phrase, however, might I suggest that in the future, you refrain from beginning any lengthy rant with it, as the unfortunate timeliness of using it thusly can put the recipient on edge, and anything written thereafter will be received with ill feelings, and convince the reader that you are, in fact, not of a well-read or intelligent ilk. In other words, save if for the end. If it’s the first thing you say, it is likely no one will care one wit what it is you have to say after.

As I read further, I was again struck by your commitment to, might I repeat, a fictional character, as well as the loathing you have for some of the others. ‘Tis true, my contempt for Dr.
Tara Knowles did inspire me to write a letter to her, which, in some circles might be viewed as an act of absurdity. But not at any time did I address or insult a real person in my letter as you have done in yours. You must be a gemma skank ass bitch that gets off by homewrecking real relationships and it helps you sleep at night because you have NO respect or pride for yourself, you say. I suppose according to some, I may be a “skank-ass bitch”, though if I have wrecked any real relationships, it is solely because I am more adorable and funnier than the women in said relationships. (I must state at this time that I have never partaken of the man-fruits of these wrecked relationships, only made these men realize not every woman is as bitchy as their current girlfriends.) That being said, I clearly haven’t an issue with self respect or pride; I expect my histrionic personality disorder has something to do with that.

I do respect those who are comfortable enough to be employed in the porn business, because who among us at one time or another have not whored ourselves out for money? Perhaps not sucking cock and taking it up the butt, but surely everyone out there has stayed at a job they hate for money, while mentally getting fucked in the ass by their boss, or taken a pay raise to do something they detest. I applaud those of the porn industry who have given many hours of pleasure to many people who have partaken of their whorish efforts. As for killing innocent people for fun, I’ve never considered doing it, but I have it on good authority that many angry men in our country sign up for the armed forces to have a chance to do just that. I do not speak ill of our Nation’s army, for I understand the urge.

I will not address you, Tara’s Fan, quite as harshly as you have addressed me, but I must at this time mention the dreadful spelling errors and obnoxious punctuation mistakes in your tirade. You seem to think Gemma was not actually Jax’s mommy, as you have mentioned her as ‘mommy’. Apostrophes are used to show possession; I believe mayhap you had meant to use quotation marks, which really wouldn’t have made any more sense, since Gemma was, in fact, Jax’s mother, and referred to in that way throughout the show by your beloved Tara. Sadly, there are many instances in your rant which lack the proper use of apostrophes- far to many to mention. Your repeated use of “ur” and “u” suggest that perhaps you have the spelling mentality of an ever-texting teenager; your copious other spelling errors lead me to believe you spend more time watching TV shows and becoming obsessed with their fictional characters than you spend reading books, in which case, I feel sorry for you, and can only hope things change for you sooner, rather than later.

I wish u the best in your life…because tight pussy and a pretty face only gets you so far until youre used up stretched out and he throws ur wringly ass out. Then what do u have to show for respecting urself?? In response to this last bit of your angry diatribe, I assure you that I have not at any time possessed a “wringly ass”; I don’t exactly know what that is, but I assume it is not something most people want. As far as being stretched out- it will never happen. I take my Kegel exercises very seriously, and my Rockstar assures me there are no worries of my ever having a vagina that resembles a hallway having a hotdog thrown down it. If by chance it does happen, I have the knowledge that I will always use the proper spelling of “yourself.” There is no greater self-respect.

Have a nice day,

Sparklebumps

 

 

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Sparkle’s Choice


Imagine a scene if you will:

A overly-endowed 30-something woman with a white-girl afro sits in front of a 42″ high-def television. She is surrounded by an endless display of books that seem to distract the onlooker from any other item that decorates the apartment. An older gentleman who resembles an angel in a Michaelangelo painting is dutifully washing the dishes in the next room, silently wondering how he ended up in this position of such clearly designated woman’s work….

The woman holds within her hand the tool that will affect the decision she so chooses at the appropriate hour. She closes her eyes and envisions her alternatives.

In one vision, there are perfectly air-brushed women of various nationalities strutting down a sparkly runway wearing the Secrets Victoria tried so desperately to endorse. Each model wears a beautifully- designed pair of wings that is the envy of every woman and gay man who ever longed to be costumed.

In the other, the possible demise of one Tara Knowles, the most despise-ed of all fictional characters the woman has encountered. For 6 seasons, (that is television, not nature, seasons) the woman has awaited the prospect of the crinkle-foreheaded fiend’s extermination. Too, there is an off-chance that a more beloved character might expire, and event that the woman would hate to find out about later on the radio.

She opens her eyes and runs one calloused finger over the button that says “Channel”. Will it be the annual Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show or the season finale of Sons of Anarchy? She wonders solemnly who the fuck scheduled them both on the same night at the exact same time, while secretly plotting the traitor’s death.

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Open Letter To Despicable You, Dr. Tara Knowles


Oh most vile and detestable of all fictional television characters, Tara Knowles,

(Otherwise known as Jax’s love interest in Sons of Anarchy)

Let me begin by saying that I have loathed you from the first. First episode, first sighting, first monstrous scowl.

I began watching Sons of Anarchy as I suppose many fans have- on Netflix. I can say from the very first episode, I abhorred you and your self-righteous attitude. I might add that too, I have repudiated the forehead crease that is forever present on your bitchy face. It is because of said crease, and not your unlikable self that I have long wished that a ghastly and atrocious demise might have visited you in the first season, and then second, and third, and so on. Sadly, we can’t all have what we wish for, now can we, Dr. Knowles? Hmmmm?

I understand your desire to be forever united nakedly with your equally fictional love interest, Jax Teller. After all, he is quite easy on the eyes, and his character, though questionably written, is endearing and sweet. However, you should know by now that you cause him (to almost quote Sinnead O’Connor) more sorrow alive than you would dead. It seems harsh, I know, but think on it for a moment- if you were to meet an untimely death by, say having a runaway van run over your head, the next episode might find Jax seeking comfort in the puss of some woman much hotter than you, and you could still be afforded an open-casket funeral, since tire tracks across your face would blend in quite nicely with the significant wrinkle already between your eyebrows.

Instead of being an acceptable Old Lady to your hot biker man, and trying to emulate his tough and respected equally hot fictional mother, Gemma, you, Miss Knowles, have stooped to low-down and wretched acts that I cannot even mention. (because it would spoil the show for those not yet caught up.) Let us just say that I do NOT feel bad that Jax cheated on you while you were forced to muff-dive in jail, because even an older, stretched-out madame is of more interest than you. You’re all “oh, boohoo, I’m not happy being part of the MC” and “boohoo, I hate my mother-in-law”. Suck it up, bitch. Nobody likes their MIL, but not everybody is so lucky to have a pretty bad-ass built in family.

I’m hoping that the writers of SOA will find it in their hearts to put you and I out of our misery and kill you off in (PLEASE!) the next episode or two. I would even be willing to play the part of a vixenish assassin hired to dispose of you, only to wind up  being the TRUE love of Jax’s life. Whatever happens, Dr. Knowles, I just thought you needed to know that even though you aren’t real, there are people out there you harbor real animosity toward you. Having the same last name as Beyonce’ doesn’t help in the least.

Malevolently,

Sparklebumps

 

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Baby, I Don’t Think We’re in Sturgis Anymore


Some people long for adventure. I happen to be one of those people.

I daydream often of spitting off of the Empire State Building, of sacrificing a human being to the Sun god on the top of an Aztec ruin, of standing on the rail of a doomed ship holding my arms up and screaming, “I’m the King of the World!” just before it hits an iceberg and my fat-ass girlfriend refuses to share her floating driftwood and I freeze to death before sinking to the bottom of the ocean; my remains fodder for Jaws, the Great and Powerful.

Perhaps I am descended from Gypsies, though I’ve not heard of any statuesque blonde Scandanavian gypsy folk, or perhaps my apartment is so crappy that I simply have the urge to go anywhere that isn’t home. Whatever the case, I feel that I do not have to justify or explain my desire to lay eye on the biggest motorcycle rally in the country.
My Rockstar finds this desire to be completely insane and ultimately the  source of my imminent demise. While I would find it interesting and quite exciting to grab a beer with burly men (and women) sporting leather chaps and Harley bandanas, my Rockstar is convinced if we were to venture and stay at the designated campgrounds that millions of people stay in every year during Bike Week,  we would surely be designated as bait for any motorcycle gang initiation rites. Luckily, Kid Rock is playing at said campground, so after three years, I was able to convince R that a good time could be had by all, no gang rapes or ass branding included.

After spending last Sunday planning our choice of poison, which included going to see Kid Rock, the Black Crowes, Jackyl, Jasmine Cain, and Vince Neil, my Rockstar received a phone call from his brother, and informed him of our plan. Little did I know, his brother was intent on ruining our perfect childless-friendly getaway. Rockstar hung up the phone and said the words I never knew I would dread to hear- “He say nobody should go into those campgrounds after dark.”

My heart dropped. Was I thinking of what a gang of horny biker dudes might do to someone with buzooms of my size or someone with such an irrestistable ass as my Rockstar? No. I was thinking that I might never know, and that my Rockstar needed to quit being a pussy and suck it up. What fun is life if you never have to worry about getting your ass kicked by a 250 lb. woman who looks like a man?

Anyhoo, I threw in the towel. I realized that my Rockstar may just not be woman enough to want to run for Miss Broken Spoke 2013, and making him surround himself with the Sons of anarchy before he’s ready would just be an incredible waste of my money. So we’re going to Vegas for my birthday in October instead, where the women are cost exhorbitant amounts of money,  and the men are showgirls.

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