Posted By Caulimovirus on June 12, 2005
“Mr. & Mrs. Ironically-Conventional-Last-Name”
.: I just saw a movie with my dad and step-mother tonight (you can probably guess which title). I will likely forget most of the events that took place before my eyes during the last two and a half hours, though there were some exciting twists and turns to be had in the adjacent parking garage that may stay with me for years to come.
.: As I reflected on what little I could remember of the movie I had just seen, I saw a coming soon poster for Steve Martin’s new movie Shopgirl. I remember reading the novella it’s based on and liking it. I do not, however, remember what the novella was about. Is my memory fading already, or is entertainment these days really that fleeting? Has entertainment always been like this?
.: There have been bad books and movies that enjoy permanent residency in my memory–whether I have any say about it or not. They were interesting, at least in some aspect. I don’t remember a thing about The Terminal other than its high concept premise: a man is stuck in an airport for a long amount of time. However, I can quote large blocks of dialogue from Megiddo: The Omega Code 2. One of these movies is good, or I should say: I remember one of these movies being good.
.: Before we bought tickets to see tonight’s movie, I asked Susan if she’d like to come with. She wisely declined–more evidence that she is indeed a superior being who should be worshipped by all. But moreso by me. And you don’t get to touch her. Only me. And I don’t mean that you can only touch me. You can’t touch me either. Only I can touch her. Should stop using fragments. Sentences from now on.
.: My brother and I visited Susan at her work today. He touched her, but since it was an accident on account of his natural clumsiness and neither of them actually noticed, I shall let him live. For now. After now has passed and the future has arrived, he may or may not live, depending on several seemingly unrelated factors: the amount of jelly beans in my belly, the number of beds that are mine in which he is currently sleeping, and whether or not some sort of killing device suddenly materializes in my hand or in the accessible vicinity. I’m not sure exactly how I can evaluate these factors to determine a specific outcome or scenario, but I’m sure some of my mathematically-inclined friends can churn out an algorithm to do all the hard thinking for me.
.: This post brought to you by 2:14 in the morning. We now return to our regularly scrambled ramblings:
.: I hate fabulously beautiful people. Not because I am jealous, but because they are boring. They do not interest me. I have no idea why Playboy wastes millions of dollars paying for new models when they can simply reprint their old ones–they are all the same anyway! Some of them may have slightly larger breasts, others may have racier designs shaved into their pubic hair (assuming they have any), while still others may insert objects into themselves not commonly thought to be used for insertion. But considering these models are digitally airbrushed to perfection, what difference does it make if they’re different people? I’m betting if they changed their names and dyed their hair a different color, they could repeat issues and nobody would notice.
.: My brother made an interesting observation that to most people will sound completely uninteresting–which makes it all the more interesting to the people who find it interesting in the first place–and it is this: “If you think about it, the idea of Family Feud is to be as normal as possible.” Think about it.
.: There’s a moment in Woody Allen’s movie Crimes and Misdemeanors that’s stuck with me ever since I saw it. His character is at a party, and he sees the woman he’s been trying to court dancing with his mortal enemy and moral opposite. Woody warned her long ago that the man is a bad person, and convinced her to stay away from him all this time. After seeing her with the guy, Woody’s character can do nothing be stare in disbelief. I told my brother about this scene. He remembers it more vividly than I do–the same thing happened to him in real life, only he couldn’t stare directly at her in disbelief. He had to settle for her MSN buddy icon.
.: Just once I would like to see a science fiction movie about a future society that really is perfect and crushes all opposition. They would win, too, otherwise they wouldn’t be perfect, would they? Also, they would make really great silverware.
.: This just in: random bullshit happens to quasi-famous public figure! America cares.
.: I’ve been visiting my grandparents more often this summer. I remember when I was little and a drive to their house was a life sentence to be spent in a horribly uncomfortable car that was designed specifically to upset little childrens’ stomachs. Now that I’m tall enough to read the digital clock on the dashboard, I learned that it takes only 45 minutes to get there. For some microscopic species, however, that is still a life sentence.
.: What makes a parody good is the quality of its source material. A parody of The Godfather is doomed to fail because the original is better than the parody. However, parodies of melodramatic cop dramas and cold war espionage thrillers have a good chance of succeeding because they surpass the originals in quality. Also, a parody of a funny satire is just dumb, especially if it’s made by the Wayans Brothers.
.: I’ve said a lot of what’s on my mind in this post. I speak metaphorically, of course, because the gooey substance that’s physically on my mind is of no interest or use to you, dear reader, unless you are a collector of brain goo. For the rest of you, I hope my series of non-sequitors and unrelated gibberish has entertained you for the brief amount of time you spent reading it, and I also hope you may remember some of it. Good night.