You know the type of person: You go see a movie like “Harold and Kumar Go to Whitecastle” with friends only to leave the theater and hear, “The book was better.”
You turn your head and look at the alien that vaguely looks like a former friend of yours and you say, “I didn’t know there was a book.”
“Yeah there is. It was published by Bantam House as ‘The Piccadilly Prance’ but was renamed ‘Harold and Kumar Go to Whitecastle’ when the publisher was sued by the British Royal Navy in an effort to forcibly keep the details of
"Um, get a job dude.”
Then on the other side, you have a friend who insists on asking you if you’ve seen “White Chicks” yet. YET? Do my friends think I’m dim enough to be entertained by stupidity?
Anyways, I just wanted to let you know I’m neither type of person. I’m not going to ask if you saw The DaVinci Code yet, and I’m not going to force you to hear me say the book was better. So if you don’t want to here either of those phrases, stop here--->.
I am not a book snob. I don’t even read. Nevertheless, The DaVinci Code was a much better book than it was a movie. What was great about the book that was wrong with the movie:
I am not a book snob, but I do feel the book succeeded where the movie failed. I would rather poke my eyes with needles than watch that steaming pile of manure again. My counsel to you: if you enjoyed the book, read it again while spraying lemon juice and ammonia in your eyes—you’ll still enjoy the book much better than the movie.