What's worse than reading Henry James? Watching Henry James. I wouldn't have guessed. No, neither boat nor its twin-twitterings of sexual intrigue will make this tale of petrified persons more likable. And the only thing worse than watching Henry James? Ogling old snapshots of the author himself: 
I present to you the Prince of the Mushy Bostonians, who looks like a giant mushroom and writes godawfully dull novels that somehow become even duller movies. Now I will go neutralize his bitter taste with flavorings from that passage his brother wrote about what happens inside your head when you see a bear.Ass-Headed Bottom: What happens? What happens?!
Slothrop: So Koko isn't feeling too well and decides to watch a movie about Henry James and his one too many semi-colons and about how gay he is. Instead of, say, listening to hundreds of Roy Orbison songs that bring joy and jubilation and set the heart free. She is not only unwell, but her sense and sensibility might be clinically retarded. Either that or there's a much more brutal side to masochism than Slothrop will ever experience, having set the limit at sticking a watermelon up his ass. See Wayward Cloud for a visual aide.
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