Freestyle

The minute you walked in the store
I could see you were a man of the Bible, a real Puritan,
Cowboys boots, face unclean,
Say, wouldn't you like to know what I'm thinkin' that's so mean?
So let me get right to the point,
I don't mock and tease every man who's beneath,
Hey Real Puritan!
Spend a little money on your teeth.

Yeah, that's pretty liberal and superior of me. Here's some more!

Here comes Tom and he's lookin' for a movie,
Not sure what but there'd better not be boobies,
Them's no good 'cause skin makes Jesus cry
And Tom's little daughter is still living in a lie,

It's fine if you show lots of people being shot,
Beheadings and revengings, we'll take them by the lot,
Virtue and stoicism shall always win the day
Keep your sword and your gun, just don't forget to pray

See, Tom watches movies every week with his kid,
Gotta keep things clean so weekly sins will be undid,
Exposure to violence is easy enough to explain,
Any villain not from here just blow away the remains,

Yet sometimes there arises often after a good shooting,
The worst kind of smut, the kind you'll find polluting
The minds of our young'uns, their souls and their hearts,
What must we watch? Some LOVING dares start!

"That's offensive," Tom says, and with awfully good reason,
"I knew it would happen, after the execution for treason,
A nice family film, full of killing and double dealings,
And I had to shut it down, because those two showed their feelings!"

Hey that's fine Tom, I understand, I says with a smile,
Parenting's hard enough without all that is vile,
Why can't it be easy, without challenges, without danger?
After all, sex ed should be left up to some stranger.

Set that watch

Remember this?










Of course you do. If you're like me, and it's safe to say you are or want to be, you've thought of little else since the movie's end credits. Two thoughts cycle around in your mind like atoms around a nucleus: When Can I Watch It Again and When Will The Sequel Come Out. Well, you can watch it right now if you want to. At work? Hey, thanks for reading while at work! Tell your boss you're suffering from Optimus Primitus, a rare form of what is colloquially referred to as "24 hour Shrieking Giddiness." At home? If you are, you're probably watching Transformers right now and not even reading this anyways. Out with friends? Stop reading your Blackberry and tell these people that they can either come back to your place immediately, stopping only for donuts and Schnapps or go fuck themselves.

It's fair to say this movie, and soon to be movie franchise, gets me more than a little irrational. I can't even give this movie any more than three out of four stars; the fight scene is too long at the end and Anthony Anderson does to his castmates what William H. Macy does to other gamblers in The Cooler. Still, I couldn't even watch previews last year because I got too excited, I almost broke the Boss' hand when I saw the first theatrical trailer, and was pretty sure I had a minor heart attack that lasted through the entire first half of the actual movie. I can't explain it, it's totally irrational to get this excited at this age. Plus, I don't even enjoy the old show anymore, or really any of the new shows, because after a certain point in one's life you run out of capacity to tolerate endlessly taunting. I don't own any toys (though wish I had kept my old ones, like everyone else who sees what they go for on Ebay), don't own the 1986 movie and haven't really kept up with the TV shows since Generation One. And yet...

It's a good time to be in your mid-twenties. Special effects technology has reached the point where it can produce real-life articulations of the stuff of our childhood imaginations. Comic book/Saturday morning cartoon franchises like Spiderman, the X-Men, Batman, the Hulk, the Fantastic Four and the new and fabulous Iron Man may have upset some nerds by changing the odd plot point and origin story (something Marvel NEVER EVER fiddled with in the comics, oh NO NEVER) but it's safe to say nobody saw these movies and thought, gee, maybe they should have just animated it so that it didn't look like crap. Transformers will be followed with G.I. Joe to add to our list of childhood nostalgia films, and you can include the upcoming Star Trek prequel and the new Indiana Jones as part of the ongoing effort to exploit audience nostalgia.

There's two things that people just don't understand. First, they seem to think there's something wrong with Hollywood leafing through stacks of comic books and old TV shows for new movie ideas. This is a common misconception, and I'd like to clear it up for you. Comic books have great characters and rich, developed plots while old TV shows, if you strip away all the taunting and often lame main characters, have all sorts of sweet supporting characters and side-relationships. Like Snake-Eyes and Storm Shadow in GI JOE, or even Megatron and StarScream, there's plenty of backstory and character histories you can pull out and condense into a two-hour movie, then build upon to make several more. I WANT my nostalgia exploited, and so do YOU. What you don't want is someone else's nostalgia exploited, like when they make a Charlie's Angels or Chipmunks movie, because YOU didn't watch it. Honestly. What's wrong with you. You're just selfish, though certainly armed with better taste.

The other misconception is that a film franchise, or threequel, or series, or whatever you want to call it, are bad things. They're actually awesome. Understand now? No? Okay, I'll explain. Sure, there's lots of bad franchises out there (the Mighty Ducks, the recent Star Wars trilogy, the Scary/Date/Epic/Movie movies. Hey Genre Movie writers: Just Die Already! Thanks!) and even more that had terrific starts but became bloated and ran out of momentum (the Burton/Schumacher Batmans, Pirates of the Carribean, and to a lesser degree the Matrix and Spiderman). Because of this, some people conclude that because some movie series suck, or start out great and then suck, there's something inherent in the multiple movie format that causes this. The reality is Most Stuff Sucks, if you follow Sturgeon's Law like you should. Well actually don't follow it, instead try to improve upon it, if you can. Most movies of any kind suck, whether part of a series or not. Yet the inherent benefit of making a trilogy or a series, is that the audience becomes more committed to the characters and will invariably have a greater emotional investment in their future. If you crammed the Lord of the Rings into one movie, then Frodo's sprint up the rocks to the opening of Mount Doom resonates much less with the viewer. In the Matrix Revolutions, Trinity's death is a far greater emotional blow because of how much time we've spent with her. Making a few more movies greatly enhances any fate that befalls our heroes and villains.

Start counting down, if you haven't already, to June 26, 2009, the target release date of Transformers 2. Keep track of added cast members and new trivia at IMDB. These studios are spending $200 million bucks of their own money to make a best-guess of what we might want to see. They're spoon-feeding us timewarps back to our youth, the least we can do is enjoy the tribute. If the movie isn't perfect, just find a way to like it. It's your childhood memories, don't let Michael Bay ruin them for you. He won't ruin mine, click on the IMDB link and go the FAQ section. Unicron?!?! Are you fucking KIDDING me?!??!!?!

Sultans of Swing: Great song or the Greatest song?

I love Dire Straits. I've had my share of favorite bands and there will surely be more, but until I discovered Dire Straits, or re-discovered since everyone's heard Money for Nothing, I'd never before heard a band whose music just seemed perfect. Effortless, balanced, harmonious. This is the kind of music that makes $120,000 speakers, $150,000 turntables and $50,000 interconnects seem like the highest of goals rather than a money-burning scheme. Like any band they have songs stronger than others, more memorable than the rest, but if a good band is one whose CD you can listen to from start to finish without feeling the need to skip anything, then a great band is one whose entire discography allows your fingers a long rest.

Sultans of Swing, certainly a classic and one of my favorites, is the best representative of the band's sound and impact. It's just there, a song that sits in the background when you have friends over, takes over a room when it comes over your speakers, or changes and amplifies any mood. I've listened to it while blowing off steam after work, while chilling out after long stimulus-enhanced poker nights, and during those times where I didn't really know what I was feeling, just that I didn't like it. It's impact changes depending on your own mood, but without losing any of it's own identity. If you're just peacefully relaxing, it brings you to a smokey London pub on a Thursday night, listening to a local band in the background while you take your time with one last pint. The kind of pub where the smoke is the only atmosphere, where the room barely affords the singer's sunglasses light to reflect, yet those glasses still draw the gazes of casual listeners while he plays only for himself. If you've had a bad day, feeling worn out and needing to hide from all the possibilities in the world, it's a rhythmic melancholy massage that comforts while reinforcing the sadness in your heart. Like being wrapped in a warm wet blanket, it soaks into you from all sides while you decide whether the softness is worth the inevitable chill to come.

It's not for everyone and that's fine. I like lots of music that others find any of boring, offensive, bland, simple, talentless, and just plain crap. I don't care if people call me a wigger for listening to Eminem, a punkass for listening to Guns'N Roses, or a snooty pseudo-artist for listening to the Dandy Warhols, those would be shots at the bands rather than shots at me. Yet I can't bring myself to be objective or dispassionate when people call Dire Straits boring, or untalented, or country. They just leave a kind of impact that bonds you to their music and when they're put down I always feel not like my taste has been questioned, but that the very nature of that taste was just attacked. So I don't handle it very well, like I didn't handle my 18 year-old assistant manager picking away at Bob Dylan lyrics at work the other day. I'll grant anyone that Dylan's harmonica playing is kind of irritating (it's not Dylan, it's frankly a shitty instrument better suited to use in Guantanamo Bay), his singing has debatable merit and his guitar playing is, at best, called "underrated." But his lyrics, of course, are incredible. You're talking about arguable the most important songwriter of the 20th century. What people fail to realize is that there are certain pillars of art that are not interested in layman judgments. They are simply on a higher plane, with a parallel purpose whose destination will not be deterred by flippant Philistines. Such is my connection with Dire Straits. I don't care if you like them or not, but you're best served recognizing their greatness or simply leaving the room, as there won't be any space left for interference.

Gallimaufry

The absolute best part of my day, after going to bed knowing I'm going to get lots of sleep and turning on my speakers and finding out that, yup, they are way friggin better than the ones at the LD Lounge, is being at work and asking Baby Boomer-types how they're doing and have them respond with "Nope, just looking thanks." Whoa. WHOA. I didn't ask you if you wanted to purchase a product, I didn't even ask if you had any questions. You're too stupid to know what you want and your questions will be critical, insulting and only serve to illustrate your own lack of ability to listen to or absorb new ideas. That's why instead I asked how you're doing. Next time I'm going to going to respond with "Oh, I'm not going to sell you anything. I just want to know how THE FUCK YOUR DAY HAS BEEN!!! HAHAHAHA!!!"

I also like old people who come in and tell me how much better their stuff is than our stuff. "Old" is not an age with customers, it's a state of mind. It's how often you throw up your hands while listening to an explanation of how new things work, the amount of times you shake your head and accusingly complain about how fast things are changing, the extent you assume I, the relatively young salesperson, know little about this "real world" that myself and peers continue to be threatened with while we work our asses off for barely above minimum wage while paying off student loans on the degree we paid for ourselves for the purpose of getting ahead and getting that better job we were told would be out there. It's also the kind of sweater you wear. I'm fascinated by these people who managed, despite being unable to decipher the difference between an ethernet cable and a tipped cow, to find the perfect television and the ideal home video format 15 years ago (a 37-inch Sharp and a Laserdisc, of course). If arguments can be won with no facts and intense staring, and they can, then I'm fucking sold. I'd rather watch a 37-inch Sharp than real life now, and DVD's and Blu-Ray? Fuck off. Three words for you: Shiny Colored Records. They are the SHIT, the bee's knees, the one cold beer in a fridge of stillwarms. Laserdiscs, despite having no true surround sound, no digital audio, the inability to fit any more than 60 minutes on each side (yep, you had to flip them. Flip them FOR REAL) and BEING FUCKING ENORMOUS, are way better than DVD's, and probably Blu-Ray too. Why? Get the hell out of here with your "why." They just are. You're too young to understand, that's all. See, years ago there were these things called "A-tracks." You'd put them in your car and they wouldn't hold many songs and you'd have to flip them for real at some point. THAT'S why Laserdisc and TV's weighing as much as a solid gold car driven by William Howard Taft are better. Now look what you've done, you've gone and upset me. I've got spittle on my cardigan.

I actually do find older customers fun to talk with, it's a low-pressure sales job so listening to nattering folkies is considered good service. Most of them are friendly and earnest and don't want to learn about technical things, which is awesome because I know not of technical things. Well I do know of technical things, like I know of Latin or changing transmissions. Old people don't know about these things and don't WANT to know about them, they want to know if they can still hook up "that big black one over there" to their VCR with coaxial cables, and if The Waltons will come on at the same time. It's easy to sell things when all your answers are "Hell ya you can hook dat shit up!"

It's those lonely old men who've taken on the responsibility of Voice of The Greatest Generation that are the worst. They don't want to buy anything, they're not impressed by a full 1080p Blu-Ray picture or a lossless DTS soundtrack and, most importantly, they don't like YOU. I don't think much of my own generation, it may not be entirely our fault we're so apathetic, disinterested and nihilistic but it's tiresome nonetheless, and thus I don't enjoy having title of Voice of the Gratest Generation imposed upon me.*

It occurs to me that if I didn't make so many little typos in my writing I might get away with more a few more subtle puns. As such "Gratest" may be mistaken as just another error than the intended pun of "grating," or irritating, in place of "greatest." It's not even a joke really, just an appropriate description, but still not worthy of such a long explanatory diversion.

Listening to the old Luddites prattle on about the superiority of their own wooden equipment, with their stone circuitry and toilet paper tubes and string interconnects, I can't help but wonder if they just ran out of people to tell and are now working through Strangers, or they just repeat the same rants over and over without concern about whether anyone's actually in front of them or not. Either way, hearing about how great some person's old crap sounds makes me think that probably both of us would be happier if they were at home listening to it right now.

"Violence is fine, just no boobies"

At work the other day when Big Poppa Pump comes in looking for DVD's. I sashayed myself to the other side of the disc rack, passive-aggressively forcing my overly-keen fellow employee to "help" Pump, who was mingling in a suspiciously interested manner. Pump tells Keen that he's just looking for a movie, so kudos to Pump for managing to find the right place. Keen asks if Pump is looking for anything in particular, Pump says no but is looking for something G rated, nothing too offensive. I assumed this was for his little Pumplings at home but further eavesdropping reveals that no, Pump wants something non-offensive for himself. Okay, so Keen leads him towards dude-friendly comedies starting, of course, with Knocked Up and Superbad. Pump says NO, by non-offensive he means something without any nudity or sexuality, he finds that unacceptable. Violence is fine though.

In customer service the best approach is to treat people like they're your friend already, or least that you already know them. This takes away the formality, eases the tension, and makes it easier to get customers to open up and actually tell you what they want. Yet in the real world a person's friends are usually people with similar worldviews. This allows us to say what's on our mind or voice some challenging opinion without worrying about offending anyone. In my own case, I spout off all kinds of profane opinions as part of a process of working through some thought process, sort of thinking aloud just to hear what that opinion sounds like, what the obvious flaws in it may be, and how to change it. Most people do this of course, and are careful to go through this process in an environment where they won't get into a friendship-breaking argument. Yet in customer service, you have to tread carefully; you have to think of that person as an acquaintance but one whom you know nothing about so as to avoid challenging their values. Let the customer lead the discussion, wait until they've voiced an opinion, then either agree or change the subject.

That's all pretty obvious, but it's still surprising when you come across someone who appears perfectly normal, meaning they look and sound the way you think you look and sound, but then voices some stupid thought out of nowhere. Listening to Pump describe his rather specific taste in movies was one of those times where you're reminded that some people out there are crazy right wing repressed Puritan fundamentalists who have all sorts of foolish values, one of which being that they prefer to see a human body blown up and ripped apart than topless in a hot tub. What's really creepy is that these people, these Daywalkers, live amongst us everyday totally anonymously and can only be unmasked by their own volition. Just like Nicolas Cage in City of Angels, if instead of an angel Cage played Jerry Falwell, instead of a doctor Meg Ryan played a prostitute with a heart of gold, and instead of having sex with her Cage/Falwell cut off her head, threw her body in a river and gave the movie a PG rating because her hair was tied back the whole time. For a metaphor that isn't as stretched out as a pair of Lulu Lemons in a Curves, try Wednesday Addams going out for Halloween, dressed completely normally and claiming to be a homicidal maniac because "they look just like everyone else."

Find the flattest thing around you. That table? Fine. That's my Point, and it has been beaten as flat as your table, but without all the Rockstar and porn lying around it. Rockstar is disgusting. What struck me about the Pump situation was that it seemed perfectly normal, if only very very slightly anti-free market, to tell Pump that he would not be allowed to purchase products until his taste in movies, and by extension his Talibanist values, reversed themselves into something less reactionary and archaic. It's not like private companies don't already dictate customer taste; London Drugs doesn't carry any South Park and Wal-Mart doesn't carry unedited Eminem. I'd simply be extending this corporate policy to fit my own more enlightened entertainment values and, being a representative of the company, would essentially be a medium for the company's continuing quest to provide the highest standard of home entertainment. I should probably get a raise for having taken two or three sentences uttered by a complete stranger, turning them into a thorough character portrait, and designing a value-based sales system around him. This will be known as a "Concentrated Sample Size Focus Group."