Thursday, January 04, 2007

So Misunderstood

Title comes from the brilliant Wilco song "Misunderstood" (creative song title, huh?) which sums up my latest winter break in Jersey. I don't want to go to Hooters and look at girls who only talk to you for tips and drink watered-down cheap beer. I'd rather be writing screenplays, watching the Twilight Zone and 24 on DVD, and playing far too much Winning Eleven 9 Soccer for PS2 (go LiverpoolFC!). For this, I’m a little bitch. Oh so misunderstood.

This post was originally going to be entitled, "four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire." Problem is only 4% would get the reference and it was far too long to write out numerous times. But who cares about things that won’t ever happen? Let's get random (and be even more misunderstood).

The Best-Of Who cd, entitled My Generation, is adorned with a sticker that would hopefully sell you on buying the cd as you hold it in Best Buy. Some stickers say, "featuring the hit songs Wanksta and In Da Club!" or, "with BONUS Live DVD!" The Who cd comes emblazoned with, "As Heard on CSI." I'll wait while you react like I did: swallowing that vomit down your throat, back where it came from.

Are we all ok now?

Some items can sell themselves...or at least without the “help” of saying they did the theme song for some ass show (on CBS of all places). You know what sticker should be on that Who cd? "Why buy this? Because it's the fucking Who." This can be personalized for many other artists, namely The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana, and more. You don't need a reason to buy those albums other than the obvious: they were made by (insert genius here). To be fair, I never would have started listening to Radiohead if not for the opening credits for Saved by the Bell.

Any time I go into a bathroom and the hot- and cold-water knobs say "Delta" it freaks me out. Is this the same company that can fly me to over 200 domestic locales for reasonable prices? I would assume not. If it is, shouldn't there be some sort of law that a company can't diversify that much? I will never own a Mitsubishi TV for that very reason. It's akin to having a Starbucks MP3 player, a Wonderbread calculator, or an ESPN toaster. It's simply not right.

During a recent trip to Barnes & Noble, I passed by a section of books under the heading "Religious Fiction." Isn't that a bit redundant?

Who the hell does Cedric the Entertainer entertain? What balls for a man to proudly proclaim something he's not. I'm Mike the Healer of the Lame! Look at me heal Panic! At the Disco fans! Has he EVER made a movie that leaves the viewer even chuckling? Let's go through a sample, thanks to the glory of imdb. Big Mamma's House: Nothing funny about obesity (or Martin Lawrence, who has been doing his best "Martin Lawrence" impression since 1995). Serving Sara: what? Barbershop 2: there weren’t any loose ends from the first one, were there? Johnson Family Vacation: let's take National Lampoon's Vacation...but make it BLACK! Man of the House: men can't deal with babies! Huzzah! The Honeymooners: let's Black that one up, too! It worked so well the first time! Then there's this absolute dogshit new flick, Codename: The Cleaner. He's not your usual undercover FBI whateverthefuck! He must have the best agent in town or gives phenomenal blowjobs. There is no other explanation. Wait…is there affirmative action in Hollywood? Would certainly explain Eddie Griffin….

I have a very contentious relationship with reality television shows. As a future writer for television, seeing so many writer-less shows succeed does not give me much hope in an already minute job market. There are some shows that I at least understand. The Real World (which is as real Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Moses) is escapism fun, because NO ONE can be as stupid or whorish as a cast member. You can get the herp just by watching the orgy in the hot tub from the Vegas season (and I hear this new season is simply insane).

However, my parents' new favorite show, Top Chef, is completely ludicrous. How can you judge who should be tossed off? How do you root for someone? "Oh, their inedible green soufflé thing is definitely better than her Orange Julius-inspired rotisserie crab Rangoon. You heard the judge, the texture and flavor layering is CLEARLY not sustained through the entire meal!" What? Anyone can watch American Idol and figure out who puts on a better performance. How the christ do you judge food by looking at it? There aren't any samples coming out of your cable box. I have a great idea for a new reality radio show: Top Sculpter.

There is a billboard that nearly caused me to crash into a barrier on Route 17. In front of a stark white background is a bunch of people, but most notably featured among the bunch is Will Smith. I’ve liked Will since way before he captured our hearts with Big Willie Style (1997). My love and admiration has grown in this Willenium. What shocked me about this billboard is what reads in large, bold, black lettering across the bottom: WE ALL HAVE AIDS. Like hell I do! I'm sorry for this shocking revelation, French Prince (always thought he should stay away from that loose Jada Pinket), but WE ALL HAVE AIDS? Why someone hasn't sued Cedric for false advertising is beyond me, but this rampant slander is egregious. Then I did some research and saw the other part that was not mentioned on this particular billboard:

…IF ONE OF US DOES. Obviously not everyone in this ad campaign has AIDS. Look at Nelson Mandela. He's African for chrissakes!

Do you remember the ultimate cop-out during elementary school gym class? Instead of playing poison ball, Dr. Dodgeball, or matt ball, there was something else (and no, I don't count gymnastics, because that was a month-long shitfest). There was parachute day.
Let's go over all of the amazing activities we'd have a ball with: lift parachute and and put it down, make "popcorn" by shaking foam balls on top of said parachute, and lift it up and with the magic of air, pull it down really fast, sit down on the edge of the fabric, and make a ceiling of Kingdome-like sturdiness.

Why do I bring this up? Other than the obvious (pointing out that it sucked more dick than job-seeking Cedric), any time I type in AIM and start the im with a “(“ and don't close the parentheses before prematurely sending it, I have to type a solo “)” and send that out. I keep feeling like I'm merely sitting down on the edge of the parachute and trying to make it look like I didn't mess up. In fact, we're just having fun! And, like in gym class, no one is buying the sorry excuse to make up for something shitty. Not a-one.

And that's what separates us from the monkeys, folks.

1 comment:

TomO said...

Remind me to tell you my meeting Eddie Griffin in Vegas story sometime. High comedy, and redeems him, in my eyes, as a b-list celeb.