Archive | August, 2010

I See What You Did There

24 Aug

So, I'm not going to lie. I've felt like crap the past couple of weeks. But I feel better today and I know I'm on the mend because I'm feeling the evil being pushed out by righteous indignation.

I'm watching the football game the other night, right? And NBC is rolling out its new fall schedule. One program, Undercovers, seems like a sort of Mr. and Mrs. Smith for prime time. Except, and here's the kicker, the couple is black. No kidding. In prime time. Then there's an ad for Outsourced. Guess what that's about? Okay, I'll tell you. A call center is moved to India and hilarity ensues when Veejay/Namish/Rajeev puts on a Texan/Midwestern/SoCal Surfer accent.

The NBC slogan for these shows? "More Colorful."

Really? No, I mean, really?


The Facebook Inspirational Status

17 Aug

Dear Facebook Friends Who Insist On Posting Inspirational Sayings As Your Status,


I understand that sometimes you might be having a bad day and need a few words to help keep your chin up. We've all been there, man. And, look, I know that you've been going through this weird separation with your spouse/significant other/object of obsession. I feel for you, I do. And I know that right now, that Lady Antebellum/Usher/Lionel Ritchie song is really speaking to you. Speaking, yes, for you in your time of pain.

And honey, I know–I KNOW– you want to get to the point where you can dance like no one is watching. I KNOW that even though it's your third time down the aisle, that "Butterfly Kisses" song is just as appropriate as it was the first time, and I KNOW you cry like a baby when you hear it because it reminds you of that time you told your sweet daddy you would fly to heaven on your winged pony and wipe away the tears Jesus shed when your cat Snickers died, but you need to do like the rest of us: PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES AND SHUT UP. 

And you, you who aren't content to write a line or two. You can't leave it at a simple, "Live, Laugh, Love." NO. You have to give it the old, "Hang in there, kitty. Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about living, laughing, loving in the rain while you dance often in the rain with butterfly kisses and pony tears while it's raining like no one is watching. Real friends are the smile only the soul can see when you carry them in one set of footprints like the flowers of life friends are. Remember that the road to a friend's house is never long when you are living in the rain like no one is listening. And may your walls know joy and your windows open to possibility while you are laughing. In the rain. If you believe there is a plan for you to live, laugh, love and dance in the rain like no one is watching, copy and paste this into your status line. 97% of people won't. Will you?"

Yes, I enjoy The Tao of Facebook as much as anyone. I've been known to post my own inspirational messages. Like the time I publicly announced I did not want to see Eat, Pray, Love as I figured if enlightenment was going to come from a Julia Roberts movie, I'd have been shown the light sometime between The Pelican Brief and Oceans Eleven. Okay, maybe my message wasn't inspirational as much as it references something inspirational. Whatever. And I know we're all pretty much guilty of posting inspirational song lyrics now and then (Southern Culture On The Skids "Camel Walk", anyone? No? Just me?), but I think if you are over, oh, sixteen, and still looking to the Top 40 or those little books you get in the Hallmark shop for inspiration, well, I guess all I can tell you is write like no one is reading.



It’s Really A Miracle He Watches Anything With Me.

10 Aug

ME: So, wait, I don't understand this movie. It's been at least thirty years since whatever happened happened, and they are still living in some vast desert world with little water and no trees. But there are birds, no one's sunburned, and none of the women seem to have hairy armpits or to have missed a visit to a salon.

HUSBAND: Hmmm…I don't know. Let me pause this movie that I have never seen to explain concepts I know no more about than you do, and, oh, did I mention IT'S A MOVIE??!!

You Don’t Get This Stuff In Your More Cosmopolitan Areas

6 Aug

I have been feeling very nostalgic lately. I tend to get that way around the start of school. It's the smell of crayons and yeast rolls. I've also been reading some books set in Natchez, Mississippi which is about 140 miles west of where I grew up. I also had a discussion yesterday with some friends from home about one of the secret treasures of The South: Lauren Rogers Museum of Art in Laurel, Mississippi. Laurel is where I grew up. First rate museum, and it's free. In heaven all museums are free. All this combines to make me a little wistful. That doesn't happen often, so when it does, I mark the occasion with a blog post.

A friend from home suggested that I check out the Facebook page of our hometown television station. He said the comments would either make me laugh or cry. I figured either way it was a win. Small town newspapers and television stations, man. Does it get any better? Only thanks to the internet where any moron like me can click a few keys and cement his or her place in Commenting History. Sometimes the stories just make me sad. Ones about servicemen and women who have died in the war. Then I get furious when people–pro-war and anti-war–use those stories to push forward their agenda rather than quietly marking the loss of life. Sometimes, as was the case today, I get a laugh. The local NBC affiliate put a link on their Facebook page to a story about how Mississippi is looking at a law similar to Arizona's immigration law. The poster for the affiliate posed these questions: What do you think guys? Would this violate the Forth Amendment? It only took one post to point out the misspelling of "Fourth". It took 50 for me to point out that they had confused the Fourth Amendment with the Fourteenth. 

It's the internet, right?

But then I saw this post on the wall of the television station.


What animal? What garbage truck? Why did no one answer? I must know. I must. 

Boondocks Deuce

2 Aug

DISCLOSURE: I fucking loved The Boondock Saints. I'm also a Chicago Blackhawks fan. While these two facts seem, at the moment, completely unrelated, you will soon understand how they may cloud my otherwise Solomon-like judgement. I want to be honest about these two issues. Because you deserve the truth.

Really, I suppose I lusted that movie more than loved it. I wanted to have hot, sweaty, leaned-up-against-the-brick-wall sex with it behind my neighborhood public house. I wanted to sit at the table in the kitchen and smoke unfiltered cigarettes and drink Bushmill's with it. I wanted to stay up all night with it and talk about tattoos and Kafka's dying wish to have all his notes and sketches burned unread. I wanted to wear torn fishnet stockings and throw dollar bills at the panhandlers while it and I drunkenly leaned on each other and walked down the street, laughing about my ridiculously high-heeled boots. 

I know I will not feel the same way about The Boondock Saints 2: All Saints Day. The fact that it came out simultaneously on Netflix Watch Instantly when it was released on DVD tells me as much as the title itself: One should be wary of Colon Movies. Movies that Use The Title of The Original Movie COLON New Movie Title. (See also: Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo)

According to my handy dandy Netflix email notification, tomorrow my honey and I shall have The Boondock Saints 2 (known from this point on as Boondocks Deuce, or simply The Deuce) in our hot little hands. Now, normally I don't click the helpful link that comes in the email that takes me to the movie's page where, among other things, live the user-submitted reviews. In general, I dislike reading the reviews. Normally, in general. I make exceptions, of course. For example, I will read the reviews of just about any movie with a one- or one-and-a-half star rating. In our queue now is the movie Pervert!, and I like to think we will enjoy it despite the low rating. I mean, porn star Mary Carey being chased by a demonic detachable penis hell-bent on causing mayhem? How can you go wrong? So one Netflix viewer says it's "the most stupid movie" he or she has ever wasted time with? So that viewer has issues with a demonic "walking talking pee-pee with teeth"? That won't stop us. In fact, I like to think we shall enjoy it more BECAUSE it's about a DEMONIC WALKING TALKING PEE-PEE WITH TEETH!

But I digress.

The Deuce will arrive tomorrow and I'm totally looking forward to it now. The user-generated reviews have made all the difference in the world. Thank you, Screen Name Redacted, for your insightful review of The Deuce. You say:


I see from your avatar that you are a Penguins fan. Normally I would totally discount anything a Penguins fan would say. I mean, come on. Pittsburgh? Really? But I am medicated these days. I'm a kinder and gentler stabby, snarky sarcastic smart-ass thanks to better living through chemistry. 

Yes, I looked up your other reviews and found that you had not written another review. While you had rated somewhere in the neighborhood of 520 movies with FIVE STARS, your only less-than-five-star review was The Deuce. One can only assume it's this prevalence of dudeass that causes its low rating. You rated everything from Pretty Woman to The Mask of Zorro five stars. You loved Josie and the Pussycats as much as Coyote Ugly and season three of Grey's Anatomy. BUT YET The Deuce doesn't measure up because of preposterous preponderance of posteriors of the dude persuasion. 

You look here, Screen Name Redacted, you will not rain on my parade. I shall now watch The Deuce with blood in my eyes. Your intolerance of dudeass will only make me love this film more. That the only thing you have to say about this movie, other than it has a "forced" script, is that there is too much dudeass will not deter me. 

Because, here's the thing, what really is too much dudeass? Is it too many different dudeasses? Fewer dudeasses, but they are larger than you like? Is the quality of dudeass not to your liking? I must watch the movie to unravel the mystery of your economic review of the sequel to a movie that was, admittedly, farcical, silly, pornographic in its violence, and, well,  it's generally a good idea to be wary of any movie with Billy Connolly, amirite? 

From now on, I will base my opinion of a movie SOLELY on the amount of dudeass. I'm not sure if more will be better. I'm not sure if I'll go quality or quantity. Although I think if I use the dudeass standard, The Big Lebowski should get a perfect five-star rating. If I am not mistaken, doesn't The Dude bare ass? Wouldn't that make it Dude's Ass? So that would be Dude's Ass dudeass, yes?