T.B. dropping knowledge

A friend gave me a book for Christmas. This morning I read an intriguing thought from Tim Burton. One that I plan on wrestling with today.

"...I tend to subscribe to the idea that, in a sense, you're always making the same film over and over again. You are who you are; your personality is usually the consequence of what you went through during your childhood, and you spend your life, consciously or not, rehashing the same ideas over and over again. It's true of all human beings, and it's even more true of artists. Whatever subject you tackle, you always end up taking a different approach with the same obsessions. In a way, it's annoying, because you'd like to think you're evolving. But at the same time, it's exciting, because it's like a never-ending challenge. It's like a curse you're desperately trying to break."

Agree? Disagree? Have a sudden craving to google Johnny Depp?

Slumdog

Slumdog Millionaire is an absolute must see. If I had a gun and it were legal, I would hold it in front of you and make you go see this film. It is perfect. Run, don't walk to a theater near you. If you have eyeballs they deserve to see this. Your ears deserve to take in this intense and clever story. It's bloody brilliant. Take a look...

Friendly Polka

Break thru that web of indifference

Dan C. sent me an email of old advertisements. I've seen a lot of them. This one stood out as simply unbelievable. Click the image to read the copy.

It's Tricky

This clip from Fail Blog is funny by itself.



But play it with this song and you double the funny.

Family Portaits

Leah's on a work call right now so I'm going to write her a letter for when she gets off.

Dear Leah,

Someday when our family is slightly bigger than us and Miss Jackson we are probably going to take family portraits. I wanted you to know that those portraits are going to look something like the ones below taken by Akihiro Furuta. I know you're gonna say something like,

"Shouldn't this be a joint decision?" or, "That's stupid. I'm not doing that."

Valid comments. I hear them. And my response is: we have years for you to change your mind. We have plenty of time to find silly outfits and tiny accordions. But I'm super flexible. We don't have to play instruments. We could hold antique garden tools or marionettes, I don't really care. There's where we can joint decide. Bottom line, my love, I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'm communicating. Because I care.

Lunch Revolution

Remember Lunchables? Are they still around? I'm pretty sure their rookie year was when I was in grade school. Lunchables and Ken Griffey Jr. were newly formed stars on the brink of a meaty career. Gone were the days where kids packed handmade sandwiches cut into perfect triangles by their loving parents. Good riddance to lil' baggies of carrots, marcelled potato chips, lumpy cookies and pudding packs. Hello tiny discs of processed "meats" and "cheeses" created to pair perfectly with crackers. Mature third graders everywhere declared, "Sandwiches are so 1986, Mom. Crackers are the future." Moms would try and explain the food pyramid and the difference between lunch and a snack. Kids saw a plastic container of independence where they could create their own lunch however they wanted as long as they wanted cheese and crackers. Processed freedom, baby.

I don't know how Lunchables did it but they sold oscar mayer crazy to the world. Maybe they caused the explosion of obesity. Kids grew up into older kids who hated how hungry they were in grade school. Maybe they're still angry that their lazy parents pawned off snacks as lunches. So in a fit of new rebellion they wolfed down double cheeseburgers. They point towards their mouths and stomachs and shout, "Here's the beef, mom....here's the beef."

Who could've known back in the 90s that Ken Griffey Jr. would fizzle into mediocrity and Lunchables would cause an outbreak of bitter type 2 diabetics? Not me, my friends. I too was caught up in the processed revolution.

Freaking USC

While I'm on the topic of College Football.....

I hate/love USC. I hate how laid back they are. How they dance around on the sidelines, hugging each other with their long, Herbal Essence hair flopping around like they just got back from surfing. I hate/love how Pete Carroll looks like he smokes weed with his players on Sundays while they recollect their shining moments both on and off the field. I hate how their band plays the same song for three hours straight and their fans obsessively throw their modified peace sign in the air. I hate that more than I used to hate the Seminole chop. I hate how they have ten running backs that would start for the Browns right now. I hate that after the game they probably have drum circles, sing love songs to each other and make plans to meet up for yoga later. I hate that they have a monopoly on recruiting Hawaiians and Samoans. Midwestern teams deserve to have players with wild hair and tribal tattoos. I hate that super cool celebrities are second class citizen compared to the back up punters. I hate that Pete Carroll probably ends each recruiting trip slow dancing with the recruit's mom to Marvin Gaye songs. I hate that the recruit's dad probably takes pictures and sends them to his friends. I hate that they warm up to Shel Silverstein poems on audio book before moving on to original hip hop produced by the defensive line. I hate that after practice the wide receivers teach the coaching staff how to pick up super models.

And what really pisses me off, I mean reeeeeeeeeeally makes me angry, is that if I had a son or daughter who was about to go to college, I'd buy them all kinds of Herbal Essences and Marvin Gaye albums and all but force them to go to freaking USC with the hope that maybe one day I could end up in a drum circle with Pete talking about where the sidewalk ends.

Morons Anonymous

I quit. I'm done caring about sports. I'm done screaming at a television and hitting my ottoman. There has to be something better to do with my time. I could've spent three hours doing push-ups tonight instead of watching my Bearcats make stupid mistakes and give the game away. I probably could've read an entire paperback novel. I could've thumb wrestled Leah 2,340 times. Anything would be better than how I feel right now. I absolutely, totally quit. No more caring. No more stress. Until Monday rolls around and I'll abuse my furniture again, apologize to them again, and yell at Toshiba while the Buckeyes blow it. Are there support groups for this sort of thing?

BESTOV '08: SNL episode

In my opinion, the best episode this year was the one with Josh Brolin. It had numerous quality sketches. Marky Mark made an appearance. The best sketch was the very last one about Fall Foliage. Unfortunately, no one else agrees with me. You can't even find its transcript online. This pains me because I thought it was genius. Buttery oranges, crimson browns. Please tell me that one of you also appreciated this brilliant sketch. Anyone? Anyone? So, because I can't share its buttery goldness with you I'll have to settle with giving you the runner-up.