Sunday, September 27, 2009

'No future for you' - J. Lydon, 1977

Mad Men marathon! Ah, but it's just the 3rd season stuff.  Dr. G marathon! It's Sunday - what's new?  I'm torn between watching these and the Eagles game (the latter only in anticipation of someone taking a cheap shot at Michael Vick and rooting on Kansas City - thus far it's not working in my favor).  
The thought of these choices is depressing on a level I didn't think possible.

Miserable rain, a goddamn cold - I already had the flu over the summer for crying out loud - and here comes another fucking Charles Schwab commercial to further rattle my brain. Why didn't 'Chuck' go under with the financial industry collapse? A clear sign there is no God; if there is, he's surely a sadist. 

I think it's time to get it over with: pass me the Plum Smart flavored Activia, cover me with a Snuggie and hand me the number of a good nursing home (time to check myself in).  That or hit me upside the head with a wet sock full of dogshit. Whichever is easier.  Is there some irony in the fact that I have the TV sound off and the Sex Pistols on the stereo?  Probably not irony, just a bit of pathetic sadness. Meanwhile, somewhere in the world, John Lydon's prostate is acting up and the self proclaimed anti-christ is cleaning his dentures in a glass while watching a Madlock marathon.  Or maybe he's enjoying Dr. G like me.

Back in the real world, apparently our long national nightmare may finally be over as I see the crafty Swiss have snared international super villain Roman Polanski in a 'career retrospective film festival' sting.  He fell for that old chestnut?  I recall it failing miserably when the CIA tried it with Bin Laden a couple years back:
"The Tora Bora Terrorism Follies featuring the works of Osama and the Not-Ready-for-72-Virgins Players" was quite an embarrassment to the boys in Langley when only Momar, Oliver Stone and then-Senator Obama bothered to show up, though Bin Laden did send Glenn Beck to accept the lifetime achievement award on his behalf. (Who would have thunk that last one? I would have.)

BTW, the CIA really shouldn't have advertised a 'Saturday mini-retrospective on Kenyan Terrorist Romantic Comedies' for this 'festival' if they wanted to keep the audience clear of American officials for a clean bust (they had to have known of Barack's Muslim Socialist Fascist Kenyan inclinations).  However, that Obama not only attended but kept breaking out into Arsenio Hall "Woof Woof" gestures during the Kenyan flicks should have at least raised a red flag with regard to the nefarious intentions of our future dear leader. That'll teach the CIA: now they have to translate the daily presidential briefings into Swahili and soon all agents not otherwise in the field will have to attend the four week government-grade medical school and do double duty as federal healthcare physicians.

Tonight is a busy evening for tube watching, what with 60 Minutes, Dexter and Californication kicking off new seasons + Curb and Mad Men.  Thank god for DVRs.

Now I need to stop typing garbage into this infernal blog and start studying (the alarm went off a month or so ago on what seems to be a recurring every-two-years new job itch and I'm in serious talks with a couple doctors who can treat this outbreak for me but only if I prepare).

[Postscript: The Sex Pistols gave way to Groovelily on the stereo and Dr. G/Mad Men/Football gave way to the Wizard of Oz (all the other shows will just have to cool their heels in my DVR until I finish this journey down the yellow brick road).  I haven't taken this trip for a long, long time.  It was my very favorite movie as a young boy and perhaps the most anticipated television day of the year for me when they replayed it annually on ... well, whichever one of the three networks that had the rights - I could google it if I wasn't so lazy.  Oz was, to me as a kid, a world apart from the shitty one I was living in.  

Little did I know Judy Garland's life was hell and she had already long since undertaken a daily regiment of booze, pills and tobacco that would have put Janis Joplin and Billy Holiday to shame by the time she filmed Oz at age 17.  Still, that knowledge doesn't hurt the movie one lick; in fact, it adds some poignancy to the mix.]