Friday, February 17, 2006
Movies I Have No Blah De Blah De Blah Blah Blah, #1
Well, I could just do the predictable thing and write up some old junk about a new movie out, probably Freedomland. Look, it's got Samuel L. Jackson AND Julianne Moore! Except (first of all) the marketing for this movie makes it sound just like Flightplan and Julianne Moore's own The Forgotten. Ambiguous Missing Children And Their Mentally Suspect Mothers has become a sub-genre in and of itself. But then you read the reviews and it sounds like some kind of meditation on race and justice mainly pitting Sam Jackson against whitey Ron Eldard. I'm not particularly moved by this pairing. If I want to watch an awkward mismatch of charisma, I can stay home and watch "Beauty and the Geek" for free.

And secondly (you forgot there was a "first", didn't you?) I'm not watching any goddamn supposedly deep socially-conscious movie by a guy who directed Christmas With The Cranks. Sorry. If you direct Christmas With The Cranks, the modern problem of race in America is OFF LIMITS TO YOU FOREVER. If you're looking for something more your speed, might I suggest Christmas With The Cranks II: Cranks In Paradise or Cheaper by the Dozen 3: Cheaperer by the Dozener. Those seem more your speed. I might even watch the last one, but that's only because I'm unnaturally attracted to Bonnie Hunt.

Or I guess I could instead talk about Valley of the Wolves, the highest-grossing film in the history of Turkey. It stars Billy Zane and Gary Busey as evil, evil Americans in Iraq who kill and torture people for fun. But if I talked about that at length, I'm afraid I might end up sounding all Republican and I don't want to give people the wrong idea.

Basically when it comes to popular culture right now, I'm just confused. Maybe I'm in some sort of border-region in terms of age where I'm transitioning out of cultural currency and into a soft form of proto-curmudgeonry. I spend a lot of time watching TV, shaking my head and saying stuff like "Kids these days..." and "Holy shit, was that a boob? They just showed a boob!"*

In the interest of catharsis and as a nod to the culturo-personal ultra-superficial blog aesthetic wherein people like me spout inanity in the form of easy-to-read lists in lieu of presenting developed thoughts, I give you all:

Things That Are Popular That I Just Can't Seem To Get In To
by Pops

  • "Desperate Housewives"

  • Mariah Carey

  • tattoos > 50% of total body skin surface

  • John Mayer and/or Jason Mraz (can't really tell them apart)

  • that Matisyahu song... "Hasidic reggae" is only funny if you're JOKING

  • bulimia

  • Patrick Dempsey, who will always only be the Can't By Me Love kid

  • "Dancing with the Stars"

  • precipitation

  • body piercing

  • coffee

  • skateboards

  • artery blockage (totally opting out of that one)

  • Olympic pairs ice-dancing

  • metrosexuality (a dude should NEVER smell like vanilla)

  • shooting your friends in the face with a shotgun

  • Brazilian jiu-jitsu

  • those boxy little Scion cars

  • kids which are always on my lawn

  • cowboys who are NOT gay

  • My Chemical Romance

  • Michelle Malkin

  • cancer

  • That's it. If anyone can explain the mass appeal of any of these things, I'd be grateful. Especially that last one. It sounds like it would suck, but THOUSANDS of people are doing it RIGHT NOW. There's no explaining taste.

    In the interest of balance, I will admit to being in to something that is entirely age-inappropriate. I seem to have fallen in like with the band Fall Out Boy. It's embarrassing because they're about 2-3 albums away from being able to write lyrics that aren't retarded, but have you heard "Dance Dance"? That song just plain ole rocks ass. Very appropriate for cruising to get the $2 lunch-break special at McDonald's with my friends in my mom's '86 Chevy Sprint before I have to get back for fifth period algebra. Not so much for the minivan set.

    There, now I'm embarrassed. That's a sure-fire sign that my blogwork is done for the day.

    This post on the Narcissus Scale: 9.0


    * = OK, so that might have only been during the Janet Jackson Superbowl thing a ways back. But I did really say that.


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