I May Need An Intervention

I'm sure you've all figured out by now that I am super, ridiculously excited about the Watchmen movie (and you should probably brace yourself for a bombardment of Watchmen themed posts. Like a lot of them). There are two options for me about how this movie will turn out: 1) it'll be nothing but pure, orgasmic geek joy pumped into your veins via your eyeballs; or 2) it'll suck awfully and vindicate Alan Moore's bitterness and spite. Either way it's good news for me because it'll give me something to blog about.

One of the biggest draws about the movie, at least for me is going to be Jackie Earle Haley as Rorschach. Okay, I admit it: I really, stupidly, irrationally love Rorschach. He is a tiny, crazy man in a trench coat who goes around accusing people of being homosexual and breaking fingers and just being crazy and I am weak. There are certain fictional types (which will probably turn into another blog post later) I have no resistance against and Rorschach is totally one of them (for other types, well, there's dead gay Ted). I love everyone in Watchmen, all the ambiguities and gray areas and complexity, but Rorschach is hands down my favorite.

So after a couple of months of talking at my friend about how awesome Rorschach is and about the sheer depth and complexity of the work and did I mention that Rorschach is a crazy badass, she gave in and bought a copy of it and immediately also fell in love with Rorschach, mainly because we share a brain. I only mention this because the blame for what is about to happen is rests solely on her.

For the past couple of weeks she sends me stills from the movie, which we have called Daily Rorschach Picture Happiness Time. Yesterday I got Rorschach and a bonus picture, and my reaction to both was exactly the same. That deserves the emphasis, as you can see:

My reactions were as follows: "Omg poor, little koala! So cute! Let me snuggle your pain away! Omg, poor Rorschach! Let me snuggle you until you feel better!"

Yes, exactly. Apparently I have now reduced crazy badass Rorschach to the level of a poor, dehydrated, adorable koala. Somewhere Alan Moore's beard is screaming in rage.

Look, I am all for having deep and thoughtful conversations about the importance of Watchmen, on the issues it raises, the handling of the characters, the sheer mind blowing awesomeness that is Alan Moore's writing, but at other times I just have to give in to my inner fangirl and let the bitch make high pitched "eeee!" noises about how Rorschach is adorable and I just want to cuddle him.

Don't you judge me because I know all of you out there has your own equivalent of the Rorschach-koala moment. Which you should tell me about in the comments. This is a judge free zone!