I was gonna write something, but I forgot

Maybe it's because I'm hungry, or because I only got 4 hours of sleep last night, but I totally forgot what I was originally going to write about. Therefore, this will probably be the most nonsensical post I've written in a while...though I do tend to surprise myself.
What is the deal with British writers and their need to be over-the-top offensive? Don't get me wrong, I think that guys like Warren Ellis, Alan Moore, Garth Ennis, et. al. are great writers, but sometimes I wonder if they could write a story that doesn't include phrases like "two jerks of a dead dog's cock" or anal rape. Are the Brits just repressed, or has their mothering society caused some sort of juvenile regression amongst them? In fact, the tamest of the lot, one Neil Gaiman (who is one of my favorite modern writers) still has that absolutely pointless homosexual love scene between a djinn and some mook in American Gods, complete with vivid detail of certain things splashing on the backs of throats. What in God's name is that all about anyway?
I guess to be fair, not all of their works are really like this, and I'm hyperbolizing a bit. But seriously, could we not read a book that brought up such visceral mental images that one feels the need to consume half a bottle of Rolaids to offset the queasiness in their stomach?
By the way, Transmetropolitan, Preacher, Watchmen, The Sandman...all of these are great series. Wanted? Not so much. I know some people really loved it, but what a terrible book! And now I'm rambling, thus I need to refocus.

Okay, on to better things. I just added a new figure to my Jedi/Sith collection, one Saesee Tiin. Here's a pic of the particular one I have, borrowed from Hasbro Toy Shop:



A decent enough figure, though the articulation is a bit limited. But I don't really mind, since every super-articulated figure out there seems to also suffer from super-loose joints. But that's a blog for another time.
Sam