This idea actually kept me awake last night. Seriously. My brain can pretty much kiss my ass. Seriously, all night. Also, quick reminder that most of the stuff that I write is fiction. Please don't judge me.
I want to take a second and tell the world that I have solved the economic crisis. If we need people to start spending again, we need to start gearing commercials towards normal people like me. If I worked as an advertising executive, there would be some changes.
I have never bought a box of cereal because a rabbit told me to, although, to be fair, I have bought a rabbit because a box of cereal told me to.
Sure the Sham-wow can clean up spilled wine, but what about stains real people get? Like when your pet racoon knocks over your urine collection? Does the Sham-wow work on that Vince? I mean who spills wine on the carpet?
I have never once had a night on the town with a bunch of young people and drank alcohol. Alcohol is only used to silence the screams that constantly ring out in ones head and as a a good place to put drugs to knock out young Asian women, that is all.
They make those cheeseburgers from McDonald's look so good in the commercials, but did you know they use real cow and not the remains of housepets dug up from the pet cemetary? I bet it doesn't sound so good now.
I will never see another movie again. In the commercials they make The Joker look so normal, but did you know that he's the bad guy? Unreal.
At no point in my life have I ever drank soda, yet they always push it as a drink. Why don't they show what soda is really good for, like cleaning overworked batteries and de-calicfying teeth.
I don't want to know whether a Mac or a PC have more viruses, I want to know which one can hold the most pictures of the corpses I happen to come across.
I guess Catherine Zeta Jones is kind of pretty, but she isn't going to make me buy a cell phone. If they want to get a hot chick to talk me into buying a cell phone, they should've gotten Amy Winehouse or the late Bea Arthur (preferably the late version).
There is a car commercial on some channel every single second, but I havent seen one commercial for a shovel that doesn't break when you hit a mailman in the head with it. It took me four purchases to figure out which shovel was the right one.
Come one, get it together Madison Avenue!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
There is Never an Inappropriate Time To Talk About 'The Warriors'
I'm really tired and about to fall asleep at work. This is going to keep me awake. Police Academy 2 is on and I started thinking about street gangs and how they are portrayed in late 70's early 80's movies, and I'm just going to freestyle something. This will be terrible. You have been warned. Oh and Spoiler Alert to anyone who hasn't seen The Warriors. And if you haven't, shame on you.
"Hey, why don't you come off that ledge?" I asked politely. He didn't respond. His shoulders were bobbing up and down in no real rhythm and as I inched closer to him, I could see it was because he was sobbing uncontrollably. He was a younger man, or maybe he was older, I guess I couldn't tell. His eyes were red and had very distinct lines around them, which led me to believe he was older, but he had the hair cut of a much younger man. It was floppy and parted on the far right side (his right not mine). It fell uncomfortably in his face, and he would sweep it away slowly and slightly tugging on it in between sobs. It was dyed blond in that way where it looks like it was from the sun, but really it was just from a bottle of Clairol. He looked like he was the star of a Disney Channel Original Series, but maybe not as handsome. There was something deliberate about his sloppiness. It was almost as if he wanted people to think he didn't try very hard, when indeed he had.
"Why are you standing there? It's awfully dangerous," He still gave no response. He stared straight ahead the whole time, not once looking at me or down at the water. He wore a pair black canvas Converse, the same kind I wore back in my elementary school P.E. His low tops were partially concealed by his long pants. He looked to be about a 32/32 pant size, but the pants he bought were probably 32/36, so the cuffs had grown tattered from walking on them so much. I don't know why he didn't just buy pants that fit, then maybe his pant legs wouldn't get so tattered.
"Boy, I sure wouldn't want to stand there, you might fall." He had on a shirt of what I assumed was a band I had never heard of since it had some tour dates on the back. It had to be a band, but I guess it could be somebody else on tour like an author or pro wrestler or a cat circus or something. It was bright green and had graffiti style lettering, making it basically indecipherable. If I were to guess I would say the band was either called The Remedies or The Pear Flavored Vodkas. One of those two.
"Wow that river sure is far away huh, I bet if you fell from this height, you'd probably die." Still nothing. He had on a wristwatch. It was an analog watch with just little lines where the numbers should be and a leather band, but it think it was broken. The second hand was moving, but I think it wasn't set to the correct time. It said it was four forty-five, but it was too dark to be four forty-five. I suppose it could've been four forty-five in the morning, but when I left my house, the news was on, so I think that means it was ten p.m. There was no way I had been walking around town for almost seven hours. I mean, I guess I had walked about a mile or so at this point. I'd like to think I could walk a mile in less than seven hours, although I was pretty far removed from the last time I had timed myself. Maybe I had been walking for hours.
"God, I bet that water is cold too. Even if you didn't die, man, I bet its real uncomfortable," I said as I turned my back to him and leaned against the bridge. There was no traffic, which was odd since this was a busy street. Although, I guess it was a Tuesday night, so most people were probably at home. And if it was four forty-five in the morning, that would make even more sense. There was graffiti on the bridge that just looked like a big check mark. It's possible that it wasn't graffiti, and the city had just marked the bridge for some reason, but I guess I didn't really know for certain.
"You know what's a good movie? The Warriors, have you ever seen it?" I reached into my pocket and lit a cigarette, I offered one to him. No response. "Its kind of neat, they're a street gang in the seventies, although I guess I'm not sure if its the seventies, it might be in the future. I guess they never really say. Well anyway, they go to this big gang meeting and the big gang leader gets shot. They say The Warriors did it, but it was really The Rogues. Well, anyway, they, The Warriors, have to go all they way from the park to their hideout on Coney Island. You ever been to New York?" No response.
"Well, New York is really big, so its really hard to get back. And all these other gangs are trying to kill them. One of the gangs is an all girl gang called the Lizzies, but the first time I saw it, man, I thought they were the Lezzies," I laughed and slapped him on the top of his shoe a couple of times. He moved his foot slightly.
"So yeah, all The Warriors have real funny names, like Rembrandt and Ajax and Fox and Snow and Cleon. I assume they were code names, but maybe they just had really weird parents. I guess in the future people can have weird names, so maybe that lends a little credence to that thought. But, I mean, I never met anyone named Snow in my whole life, how about you?" He turned his head slightly down, but still didn't look at me, he had stopped crying by this point, which was nice because it was hard to talk to someone when they are crying. It makes me feel sad too.
"Well Fox, I think it was Fox, it has been a bit since Ive seen it, he gets thrown in front of a Subway and Ajax he gets arrested, so they don't all make it back to Coney, which makes me a little upset, but you know, I guess they had to build the drama. Well, so the remaining guys make it back to Coney and who do they find waiting for them? I bet you can guess."
"The Rogues," he said in a deep monotone voice and without looking at me.
"Yeah, The Rogues. So The Rogues leader, he starts clanging these beer bottles together and then they drive out to the beach for the big finale, but its a swerve because The Riffs (The Riffs were the gang that had the leader who got shot back in the beginning) they are out there and they probably kill The Rogues. You don't know for sure what happens to them, but you know its bad. Oh and one of the gangs are a bunch of baseball players. They're The Furies." He swept his hair out his face a little quicker then he had been and finally looked at me.
"I like the part where they fight The Punks in the bathroom."
"Yeah that part is good. Oh, and you can totally see through that girl's shirt, then she put on a jacket."
"Yeah, that's true." He turned around and stepped off the bridge. "You know, I think I'm gonna go home and watch The Warriors."
He walked down the sidewalk as I finished my cigarette. "Good talking to you," I yelled as he walked off in the darkness, stepping on the back of his pant legs the whole time. He should really look into getting pants that fit.
"Hey, why don't you come off that ledge?" I asked politely. He didn't respond. His shoulders were bobbing up and down in no real rhythm and as I inched closer to him, I could see it was because he was sobbing uncontrollably. He was a younger man, or maybe he was older, I guess I couldn't tell. His eyes were red and had very distinct lines around them, which led me to believe he was older, but he had the hair cut of a much younger man. It was floppy and parted on the far right side (his right not mine). It fell uncomfortably in his face, and he would sweep it away slowly and slightly tugging on it in between sobs. It was dyed blond in that way where it looks like it was from the sun, but really it was just from a bottle of Clairol. He looked like he was the star of a Disney Channel Original Series, but maybe not as handsome. There was something deliberate about his sloppiness. It was almost as if he wanted people to think he didn't try very hard, when indeed he had.
"Why are you standing there? It's awfully dangerous," He still gave no response. He stared straight ahead the whole time, not once looking at me or down at the water. He wore a pair black canvas Converse, the same kind I wore back in my elementary school P.E. His low tops were partially concealed by his long pants. He looked to be about a 32/32 pant size, but the pants he bought were probably 32/36, so the cuffs had grown tattered from walking on them so much. I don't know why he didn't just buy pants that fit, then maybe his pant legs wouldn't get so tattered.
"Boy, I sure wouldn't want to stand there, you might fall." He had on a shirt of what I assumed was a band I had never heard of since it had some tour dates on the back. It had to be a band, but I guess it could be somebody else on tour like an author or pro wrestler or a cat circus or something. It was bright green and had graffiti style lettering, making it basically indecipherable. If I were to guess I would say the band was either called The Remedies or The Pear Flavored Vodkas. One of those two.
"Wow that river sure is far away huh, I bet if you fell from this height, you'd probably die." Still nothing. He had on a wristwatch. It was an analog watch with just little lines where the numbers should be and a leather band, but it think it was broken. The second hand was moving, but I think it wasn't set to the correct time. It said it was four forty-five, but it was too dark to be four forty-five. I suppose it could've been four forty-five in the morning, but when I left my house, the news was on, so I think that means it was ten p.m. There was no way I had been walking around town for almost seven hours. I mean, I guess I had walked about a mile or so at this point. I'd like to think I could walk a mile in less than seven hours, although I was pretty far removed from the last time I had timed myself. Maybe I had been walking for hours.
"God, I bet that water is cold too. Even if you didn't die, man, I bet its real uncomfortable," I said as I turned my back to him and leaned against the bridge. There was no traffic, which was odd since this was a busy street. Although, I guess it was a Tuesday night, so most people were probably at home. And if it was four forty-five in the morning, that would make even more sense. There was graffiti on the bridge that just looked like a big check mark. It's possible that it wasn't graffiti, and the city had just marked the bridge for some reason, but I guess I didn't really know for certain.
"You know what's a good movie? The Warriors, have you ever seen it?" I reached into my pocket and lit a cigarette, I offered one to him. No response. "Its kind of neat, they're a street gang in the seventies, although I guess I'm not sure if its the seventies, it might be in the future. I guess they never really say. Well anyway, they go to this big gang meeting and the big gang leader gets shot. They say The Warriors did it, but it was really The Rogues. Well, anyway, they, The Warriors, have to go all they way from the park to their hideout on Coney Island. You ever been to New York?" No response.
"Well, New York is really big, so its really hard to get back. And all these other gangs are trying to kill them. One of the gangs is an all girl gang called the Lizzies, but the first time I saw it, man, I thought they were the Lezzies," I laughed and slapped him on the top of his shoe a couple of times. He moved his foot slightly.
"So yeah, all The Warriors have real funny names, like Rembrandt and Ajax and Fox and Snow and Cleon. I assume they were code names, but maybe they just had really weird parents. I guess in the future people can have weird names, so maybe that lends a little credence to that thought. But, I mean, I never met anyone named Snow in my whole life, how about you?" He turned his head slightly down, but still didn't look at me, he had stopped crying by this point, which was nice because it was hard to talk to someone when they are crying. It makes me feel sad too.
"Well Fox, I think it was Fox, it has been a bit since Ive seen it, he gets thrown in front of a Subway and Ajax he gets arrested, so they don't all make it back to Coney, which makes me a little upset, but you know, I guess they had to build the drama. Well, so the remaining guys make it back to Coney and who do they find waiting for them? I bet you can guess."
"The Rogues," he said in a deep monotone voice and without looking at me.
"Yeah, The Rogues. So The Rogues leader, he starts clanging these beer bottles together and then they drive out to the beach for the big finale, but its a swerve because The Riffs (The Riffs were the gang that had the leader who got shot back in the beginning) they are out there and they probably kill The Rogues. You don't know for sure what happens to them, but you know its bad. Oh and one of the gangs are a bunch of baseball players. They're The Furies." He swept his hair out his face a little quicker then he had been and finally looked at me.
"I like the part where they fight The Punks in the bathroom."
"Yeah that part is good. Oh, and you can totally see through that girl's shirt, then she put on a jacket."
"Yeah, that's true." He turned around and stepped off the bridge. "You know, I think I'm gonna go home and watch The Warriors."
He walked down the sidewalk as I finished my cigarette. "Good talking to you," I yelled as he walked off in the darkness, stepping on the back of his pant legs the whole time. He should really look into getting pants that fit.
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