And for a second I thought “hmm, from the director of Paranormal Activity…interesting” and then I thought “Wait, why is that a selling point?”  How much of Paranormal Activity’s success is due to the direction?  Well, it turns out Oren wrote the Paranormal Activity films also.  After reading that I thought “Ah, I see…Wait, why is that a selling point?”

I’m no film expert, but I did make a lot of homemade horror movies with my friends when I was a kid, (so yeah, total film expert) and honestly, most of the Paranormal Activity franchise looks a lot like those.  It wasn’t masterful direction that made the PA movies watchable, it was simply cheap thrills – unless you consider a stationary camera in a bedroom for 80% of the movie clever cinematography.

to even CONCEIVE of this shot requires brilliance we haven’t seen since I expertly tied my shoes this morning

In addition to looking like the big time directorial debut of someone who’s only previous experience was setting up a tripod for his homemade sex tapes, The Paranormal Activity films aren’t crafted with any kind of precision, they’re just a setup and delivery system for startles.  They also ask you to believe that a person caught in a horrifying, life threatening situation would not only decide to tie one of their hands up with a handheld camera, but also pan slowly with a camera across the room rather than use their much more quick and effective, gifted by evolution eyeballs.  There is no three dimensionality here, no rich story to tell, nothing below the surface.  I have to wonder if there even was a screenplay for these, or just a loose framing of the sequence of events and the “direction” to just riff on how “creeped out you were” by the noises you heard last night.  Oren is probably a pretentious blowhard who loves to tell women in bars about how he’s a respected “filmmaker” and that he makes popular “movies” and that they should go back to his place and have “sex”.

I picture something like this

But let’s look at this type of film, originating as far as I can tell with “The Blair Witch Project”, which has expanded from the horror genre to include monster movies like “Cloverfield” (Yes, it IS it’s own genre, independent of horror movies), and now to “Chronicle” a sort of Superpowered drama.

I really enjoyed “The Blair Witch Project”, due largely to the fact that I was 15 when it came out.  I also had a friend who actually believed it was real footage.  Watching her devastated face as she emerged from the theater and staggered to a bench while repeating “I can’t believe that happened” was pretty much the best comic relief I could ever ask for.

I found “Cloverfield” a valuable learning experience, because it taught me that populating your movie with the most unlikeable yuppie tools you can find makes rooting for their survival a challenge.  I, and half the theater, was cheering as each one bit the dust.  But let’s call a spade a spade:  No one goes to see a Godzilla film to side with the fleeing civilians, and that’s what made “Cloverfield” (and most monster movies) lackluster for me – the empathy I’m supposed to feel that makes me frightened by proxy just wasn’t there.  I was glad that alien thing fell into the ocean just off shore of Coney Island and started killing privileged people…because it not being noticed descending from space into one of the largest population centers on the planet is a completely believable premise.

If you’re anything like me, this increasingly popular “found footage” genre induces the motion sickness equivalent of reading in a car that’s driving on a boat in the middle of a storm.  And if you’re really like me you’ll have retrograde amnesia to this fact as soon as you leave the theater and happily line up for the next one coming out of the sausage grinder.  That’s right, “Chronicle”, I’m game.

And if you don’t think it’s being done so already, don’t worry, “found footage” will be overused.  As with any novel technique, (The Matrix style slo-mo spin, for example) the trajectory will be as follows:

1.  Innovation: Blair Witch Project
2.  Still Fresh and Exciting: Paranormal Activity, Cloverfield
3.  Hackney, Stale, Redundant: Paranormal Activity 2 & 3, The Devil Inside
…and finally,
4.  Resurgence as Parody: Coming to a Theater Near You (probably 2013)

There’s a big reason it’s more and more popular to reach for this device.  Financially, the Paranormal Activity model is very attractive to any production studio.  These films are remarkably cheap to produce, and I’m gonna go ahead and say they do pretty well when it comes to return on investment.   Let’s look at the numbers for the original Paranormal Activity:

Budget to produce: $15,000
Worldwide Gross: $196,681,656

It made over 5 times it’s budget in the opening weekend, and without a heavy marketing campaign.  Anytime you can almost multiply the budget by itself and project worldwide earnings, you’re in pretty good shape.  Profitability will always win.

But does this stellar success transfer to non Paranormal Activity ventures like this new TV show?  Have the executives started to believe their own partially self congratulating hype that this guy is a visionary?  I’m not saying that writing only 3 films between 2007 and 2011 that all happen to have “Paranormal Activity” in the title (and are peppered with sparser dialog than roadtrips with my family) makes you a one trick pony, I’m just saying that I’m skeptical that Oren is actually…creative.  Also, he totally seems like a one trick pony.

I think it’s important we draw a distinction between respectable film-making and capitalizing on a sensationalized spectacle of a movie concept.  I’ll check out “The River” because I’m a sucker for anything claiming to be scary, but let’s not get carried away and equate box office dollars with artistic vision.  We have opted to be startled rather than scared, and shown our approval for shaky camerawork and ad libbed dialog with overwhelming box office numbers.  It’s no wonder Oren has started thinking he’s actually “created” something worthwhile, and others are drinking the kool-aid with him.

Now the beast is unleashed on television, so stock up on dramamine, America…unless you enjoy your home having that fresh vomit smell.

Danny

dannygrantmusic@gmail.com

Durstbag

Limp Bizkit frontman Fred Durst has long complained that people have treated him like a music industry joke, a punch line to the question, “Seriously, what’s with that dude in the backward red baseball cap?”

But the nu-metal maestro may have the final laugh thanks to a deal he recently signed with CBS and CBS TV Studios to develop a half-hour sitcom. According to Deadline Hollywood, Durst will star in and produce the untitled show, which has a not-ready-for-primetime working title that perfectly fits the “Nookie” singer’s self-deprecating image: “Douchebag.”

CBS has committed to looking over a script for the show, which centers on a “rock legend looking for balance between his high-profile lifestyle and trying to raise a family.” The script is being written by Matthew Carlson (“Mr. Sunshine”), who will also serve as executive producer.

Self-deprecating image? Fred Durst?! Does CBS even know who this guy is? This was a guy that everyone thought was a douchebag because he took himself so seriously.. when he had all of the musical gravitas of a random kid moaning in the seconds leading up to shitting his pants after his mom’s Taco Tuesday. Whatever-Dude made fun of this guy constantly back in the day.. Hell, Randazzo even wrote a whole post about what a pretentious asshole this guy was: http://www.whatever-dude.com/posts/233.shtml 

Yeah, it’s really self-deprecating for this guy who is a forgotten footnote in the music industry to try and base a show around himself as a “rock legend” looking to balance family life and a career. Sorry, dude.. in this day and age, the only things rock legends can get in the entertainment industry are reality shows about their day to day lives.. If that’s all Gene Simmons can get nowadays, even though KISS was arguably the biggest band in the world for a time and he has actual acting experience (playing the villain the Tom Selleck 80′s  classic “Runaway”).. what on earth makes Fred Durst think he deserves a sitcom and who the hell would write one for him? And on CBS no less? Angela Lansbury must be rolling over in her grave.. and you know what Fred would say to her?    

Keep on rollin, baby!

Dave

General Motors Co. is killing an advertisement aimed at college students after receiving complaints that it makes fun of people who use bicycles for transportation.

That ad has a headline stating, “reality sucks” and depicts a nerdy looking guy wearing a helmet and riding a bicycle being passed by a cute young woman in the passenger seat of a car. It then goes on to say, “Stop pedaling … start driving” and provides information about discount pricing for GM products such as the new 2012 Chevrolet Sonic subcompact sedan and the giant GMC Sierra 1500 truck.

The ad ran in a variety of college newspapers and was turned into a poster that was displayed campuses, according to the automaker.

The advertisement was widely panned on a variety of cycling blogs and in complaints to the company.

“The content of the ad was developed with college students and was meant to be a bit cheeky and humorous and not meant to offend anybody,” said Tom Henderson, a GM spokesman.

“We have gotten feedback and we are listening and there are changes underway.  They will be taking the bicycle ad out of the rotation…. We respect bikers and many of us here are cyclists,” he said.

Alright, you gotta be shitting me here. Just when you thought you’ve seen it all, along comes a Lambda four foot tall…  I mean, really? Pulling an advertisement because it offends people that ride a bicycle for transportation? This is a legitimate group of people that we have to worry about offending now? So do I have to give the gratuitous look in both directions to make sure no bicyclists are around when I make fun of my kids for wearing their dorky helmets when they ride their bikes to the playground?

Sure that ad up there does have the underlying message of “Nobody’s ever gotten laid because a chick dug their bicycle..” but first off, it’s not coming right out and saying it.. and secondly, that’s a completely true statement, so what’s the problem? How is that offensive? It’s not like they put a likeness of Lance Armstrong up there pulling up next to the car with the tagline.. “Dude, grow a pair and buy a car.” Now THAT would be offensive.. and funny as balls.

Dave

For example, the early nineties saw many kids idolizing Kurt Cobain.  So was it happenstance; a function of coincidental right-place-right-time circumstances?  Was he just a popular figure that the bright box in the living room labeled “cool”, so he filled that role?  Do I like to ask rhetorical questions?  I can imagine impressionable youths circa 1991 searching the pop culture landscape for someone to emulate, and in the barren wasteland of New Kids on the Block and MC Hammer, found Kurt Cobain an excellent candidate.

Maybe it’s something else.  Maybe children idolize cultural figures that mirror something they see in themselves.  Maybe Kurt Cobain honestly and sincerely tapped into the rebellious streak many adolescents identify with, and that rocketed him to stardom leaving old record execs puzzled.

“Why isn’t Vanilla Ice’s new album selling better?”

Kurt was certainly able to articulate the common teenage mantra of going against the societal grain.  But in addition to Kurt, there were several drug addled role models produced during the grunge era…and they all carried the burden that accompanies such a mindset.  Not only is there usually a misfit back story that is the genesis of most rebels, (saddling them with lasting psychological scars) but there is also the tendency to engage in self-destructive behavior.

So what happens when these figures become the archetype that a whole generation is emulating?  At best you’ll create a lot of self-proclaimed slackers wearing their lack of ambition on their sleeve.  At worst you’ll produce a new crop of isolated drug users, comfortable in their anti-social attitude as a point of pride because they have a kindred spirit singing songs to them on their stereo; a role model that validates it all.

Before I continue, I want to make it clear that I’m not one of those crazy censorship proponents who thinks Grand Theft Auto III inspires kids to beat hookers and steal cars.  Nor do I think listening to NWA’s “F*ck tha Police” will cause anyone to actually go sodomize the traffic cop on the corner.  But I do wonder what happens when someone respects, admires, or emulates such self destructive characters.

When I was growing up, my friends and I loved everything about the grunge scene.  Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains were in constant rotation at our houses.  We each had a favorite, and one of my friends settled quickly on Alice in Chains.  Something about front man Layne Staley really spoke to him.  As everyone knows, the grunge scene was angsty, angst-ridden, and full of angst (for lack of a better descriptor).  But in truth, I always preferred Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and STP, and thought they were a little more light-hearted than their counter parts.  Nirvana and Alice in Chains both held a much more grim and depressing outlook…which is pretty tough to do considering the video for “Black Hole Sun”

Yep, darker than this

As a little background, Alice in Chains started out on the tail end of 80’s metal.  They were basically a slightly heavier and darker version of your average hair band when they released “Facelift”.  But something kick started their evolution into the muddier grunge band they would become.  I’m not gonna assume it was heroin, but one can’t ignore Layne Staley’s proud ownership of his drug consumption.

Check out the lyrics to “Junkhead” from the album Dirt:

“You Can’t Understand a User’s Mind
But Try, With Your Books And Degrees
If You Let Yourself Go And Open Your Mind
I’ll Bet You’d Be Doing Like Me
And It Ain’t So Bad

What’s My Drug Of Choice?
Well, What Have You Got?
I Don’t Go Broke
And I Do It A lot”

So like all counter culture sheep we fell in line behind our Shepard of choice.  We were all being different, together.  And looking back now, it seems like wheels were set in motion that we were oblivious to.

I don’t think people really have personalities until their teens.  When you are a kid in the world, you’re much more of a reactor than an actor.  You don’t impose your will and opinions on the world.  The world imposes itself on you.  My Layne Staley loving friend, however, was different.  He was perceptive and charismatic beyond his years.  He was the first friend I ever had to actually read into people and their hidden agendas.  He saw behind the veil.

I, a perpetual reactor, never questioned anyone’s motives.  Why would I?  I couldn’t relate to having an ulterior motive…I’d never really had one.  My friend (we’ll call him Ben) was able to dismantle someone.  Someone more savvy than I was would call this street smarts, and he had them.

Ben grew up in a bad part of town before he moved to my neighborhood.  He had a troubled family life for his first few years, and had dealt with some heavy stuff.  Moving to my innocuous suburban world was a big transition; one brought on by some family members trying to give him the solid home life they didn’t have.  He had made it out of a bad spot but wasn’t unscathed.  There was a level of gravity to his life experience that robbed him of some of the youthful naïveté we all have.   On the surface, his extra perception made him much cooler than most of the people I associated with, and we became best friends pretty quickly.

He also had a reckless and fun loving spirit.  He was always the one to take the dare.  He would be the first down the steep uncharted hill on his rollerblades…and always made it out okay while the rest of us shredded our knees and suffered concussions.

“Road Rash” wasn’t just an awesome video game to me and my crew

He had unparalleled luck with those things – the stuff of legends.  His risks rarely backfired on him, and it elevated him to heroic status in our circle.  If you combine that with his natural charisma, you end up with a person that received a lot of positive reinforcement.  I sometimes wonder if the abundance of positive reinforcement can be just as crippling as the absence of it.

By the time we were teenagers we, like all our peers, had sought the highest level of rebellion we were comfortable with.  I was much more conservative than him…somewhere just rebellious enough to try and pass for “cool” yet still make decent grades.  His rebellion, on the other hand, was more organic to his being.  It seemed like a reflexive rebellion coded in his DNA. (This paragraph brought to you by the word “rebellion”)

It was around this time that Layne Staley and Alice in Chains had found a steady rotation on his stereo.  With that came a message exalting the recreational use of drugs.  Who’s to say why kids start doing drugs?  In Ben’s case, I’d say it was the thrill of taking the dare.  I’d say it was the elevated social status and acceptance of a whole group of kids with the same lack of naïveté that made him who he was.  I’d say it was his curiosity to see what it was that caused his family so much hardship and turmoil as a young child.

And with that first hit, Layne Staley became more than a singer.  He embodied a mantra that Ben respected.  Sometimes a “Who says what society says is right?” attitude is great thing to have.  The argument ad populum has it’s flaws, and our ability to think independently is a great strength of our culture.  Other times, though, that attitude just becomes a rationalization for shitty behavior.

So my best friend and I started down divergent paths.  I never could keep up with his appetite for the party.  A lot of our high school nights just consisted of chasing down a substance for him to consume and a place for him to consume it, while I just wanted a few beers.  And with every day his persona took on more and more of the traits of his counter culture role model.

I tried to remain a voice of reason, but there’s a point where you just start to sound like a parent.  The futility of trying to talk someone out of a high they’re chasing got to be very familiar territory, and as close as we were, I knew we were destined to be two very different people.

I left for college the same year Layne Staley died of a drug overdose.  Ben didn’t really see that as a wake-up call.  His appetite for the party wasn’t satiated yet.  He stayed behind and opted out of the collegiate experience I spent most of my high school career salivating over.  I’d reach out to him or his family every once in a while and we’d catch up.  I’d get varying versions of how he was doing from him and our mutual friends.  But we were slowly losing common ground on which to relate to each other.  Our day to day lives became radically different.

I blamed whatever I could for our distance.  I blamed myself for not making enough of an effort.  I blamed him for his fear of failure, or fear of success, or whatever operating theory I had that week as to why we thought so differently.  I blamed the substances.  It was their fault he blew me off for the dreadlocked stoner kids.

Offering a much more exciting Saturday night than I ever could

But I also blamed Layne Staley, and every other popular figure that touted the glory of getting high.  On some level, I thought they fed a dormant demon that would’ve never gotten hold of him had they not made it sound so appealing.

Time pressed on and dug a widening chasm between us.  I’d come back from college to visit and we’d play music or catch up with friends.  I’d ask him about his future plans, but always got vague responses.  He’d come up to visit me but usually ended up breaking away to hang with a more hardcore crowd.  I got my degree and Ben bounced from job to job.  We both escaped the dense gravitational pull of Montgomery – I to New York, Ben with a more vagrant plan to lay his head anywhere but Alabama.  We just weren’t that relevant to each other’s lives anymore, no matter how deep our brotherly love may be.

These days we still talk, albeit rarely.  Usually it’s shallow reminiscence about our glory days rollerblading around the block and playing guitar until 2am.  He’s spent most of his adult life drifting from place to place around the country.  Stoner manifest destiny lead him west to the hippie holy land, Oregon.  I still worry about him and really just want for his happiness.  I imagine not having a steady job or residence isn’t very fulfilling, but something tells me he’s exactly where he wants to be.

I guess life traps everyone with the machinations of cause and effect…and I guess that’s what I’m trying to take a stab here.  I’m living the effects, but I’m not completely clear on all the causes.  What really caused my friend to glorify drug use?  What caused him to lose touch with his solid foundation?  Was it Layne Staley leading him astray? Maybe Layne Staley just articulated what was already inside him.

No matter our differences, there is still a connection of love and brotherhood between us.  Wherever his life takes him, he’ll always be welcome in my life however available he wants to make himself.  I’ll never stop reaching out every couple months just to see how he’s doing.  I’ll never lose hope that we can one day be as close as we once were.  I’ll never lose the sense that a large part of my personality is due directly to him.  I’ll never stop thinking of him as family.  And despite the chaotic nature of his situation, I admire him for marching to the beat of his own drummer.  I admire his rebellion.  I try to tap into it from time to time when I get saturated on the professional world…and I usually crack a beer and put on some Alice in Chains to enhance the mood.

I recommend the unplugged album

Danny

dannygrantmusic@gmail.com

Hatton’s case is a sad one, when you really stop to think about it. A talented boxer with a down-to-Earth attitude, his big mistake was in believing his own hype. He won titles and his aggressive style looked convincing but, when he came up against a bona fide superstar in Floyd Mayweather Jr. , his dream was obliterated.

When he was floored by Manny Pacquiao in only the second round, it was as resounding a defeat as you’re ever likely to see. Symbolically, it was the end of Ricky Hatton as a serious contender and the aura of “The Hitman” was effectively destroyed.

Early bath for "Our Kid"...

Since losing to “Pac-Man” in May 2009, Hatton has made countless promises about a big comeback fight. His weight has visibly ballooned and he certainly has not looked match-fit. That’s actually a minor understatement; he looks terrible. With his pale complexion, triple chins and bleary eyes, it has been obvious for some time that Hatton has been suffering and retirement has looked inevitable. Rumors abounded about his late-night drinking sessions and a video obtained by the British media shows him vacuuming lines of cocaine.

We somehow expect celebrities to hold themselves to a higher standard, but it seems to me that they do things bigger and that is why their meltdowns are more outrageous. The climb to the top is high, but the fall is crushing. There is no clear reason, for instance, why an outrageously talented, successful and adored actor like Mel Gibson would be found smashed out of his mind on a coastal road. There is even less reason why he would go on obscenity-laced tirades against the Jewish community. And knocking the mother of his child around and threatening to kill her is, frankly, both disturbing and inexcusable.

I’m not sure whether celebrity meltdowns happened before, but the spread of information online might both chronicle it better and be a contributing factor to it. By that, I mean that celebrities are hounded by Paparazzi and bloggers. They are constantly being snapped and pursued, it seems. They are being pursued in the hopes that someone will capture them in a particularly newsworthy moment. If you or I were followed and hounded constantly, it is inevitable that at least some of the time we’d let our guard down.

So, while it is pretty sensational when a PR princess like Britney Spears attacks the Paparazzi with an umbrella, should we really be that surprised when people go a little crazy? There are critics out there who say that it is naïve of celebrities to expect privacy or to even demand it. I can certainly see that argument and have even used it. I think there’s a difference in acknowledging the duplicitous nature of celebrities, wanting privacy when it suits and craving attention when it’s needed, and justifying the despicably parasitic behavior of some in the media.

This is not to say that celebrities don’t court controversy or play the media to their advantage. We all know they do. What I’m driving at is how this feeding frenzy helps contribute to the downfall. Celebrities are built up to such unrealistic levels then systematically destroyed or discarded. Not many people can cope with that and, if you define your life by how famous and adored you are, it is a recipe for disaster. For any celebrity, there will always be competitors who are more famous, talented and attractive than you. The “flavor of the month” will sweep in fairly regularly, too, so when these people have to battle their way to the top the insecurity of staying there must weigh heavily.

I think the problem, as epitomized by Ricky Hatton, comes down to not having a proper handle on reality. When celebrities and sports stars start to buy into their own carefully-constructed hype, it invariably leads to a downward spiral.

Hatton has unofficially been doing a sequel to "Supersize Me!"

Ricky Hatton, a man from a modest working-class background, started referring to himself in the third person. In interviews, he would say things like “Ricky Hatton is not that sort of fighter.” Unless it’s part of a gimmick, it’s a troubling sign whenever people resort to that sort of behavior, a dangerous mix of bloated ego and detachment from reality. Hatton’s pre-match goading of Mayweather looks hilariously misjudged in hindsight, but it should serve as an important lesson. Never forget your strengths or your limitations.

What really grabs me is how the frailty of the human condition is universal . It doesn’t matter whether you are rich or poor, famous or obscure; most people require attention and many crave it. It is that need for adulation that seems to push a lot of celebrities over the edge. It is a constant, addictive itch for approval and adoration that acts as their drug. They seem to be addicted to being removed from the challenges of reality. This might also explain why they get into hard drugs and dangerous sex.

There is no good reason for people like Ricky Hatton, Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan ending up in rehab. They have legions of fans, millions in the bank and scores of handlers. Maybe that is part of a bigger problem when you’re insulated from genuine criticism, and you find yourself surrounded by people who only want to soothe your ego. It must be difficult to separate the true friends from the genuine bullshitters and, let’s face it, flattery is amazingly seductive. The handlers and hangers-on, like Turtle in Entourage, cling vicariously to their famous friends. Their livelihoods depend on it.

There tends to be a genuine and understandable dose of cynicism whenever a celebrity hits “rock bottom” or heads to rehab. Failure to handle the party lifestyle is too often seen as a sign of weakness. Moreover, many of these celebrities seem to have their heads lodged too far up their asses.

So, why should we care whenever they have a meltdown because of a self-inflicted addiction to booze, drugs or painkillers? Well, it’s certainly easy to dismiss it, but I have mellowed in time. I know how easy it is to seek comfort in a bottle or even just wallow in self-pity. Sure, celebrities don’t have to struggle from paycheck to paycheck and they will have no shortage of social activities to keep them entertained, but being in that profession brings on its own set of problems.

The big problem is that no-one can be trained to be a celebrity. No-one can be taught how to handle intense criticism or the inevitability of faceless bloggers attacking your character. It may be an occupational hazard, but it’s not particularly pleasant. In Ricky Hatton’s case, he bought into his character. In a similar way to some professional wrestlers, he believed in his gimmick too much and became a mark for himself. Hitting the bottle because you felt you let your fans down is simultaneously tragic and self-deluded. After all, Hatton’s fans adore him and were just worried for him. If any of them were genuinely affected by his two heavy defeats and it made them question life, then that’s THEIR problem. Hatton needs to really look himself in the mirror and realize: he is neither as good as he thought he was, nor as bad as he currently thinks he is.

I do hope to see Ricky Hatton bounce back. I think, away from the fleeting adoration and the hype, he needs to find out who he is and what really defines him. I think that’s an important pathway to happiness in general. When you start trying to be something for someone else or get too married to your assumed “role” in life, it is a sure-fire recipe for heartache. It should never come to rehab, after all. When you know who you are and be proud of what you’ve done, it’s a good start. I hope Ricky Hatton gets on that road soon…

Paul
paul@whatever-dude.com

Books-A-Million acted as a Mecca for distinguished literary scholars who spend their Saturday nights buried in dusty, long-winded “classics”, i.e. pretentious teens with a superiority complex and no prospects for a significant other, i.e. me and my circle of friends. Originally, I loved Books-A-Million. They had comfy couches, an in-house café, and the whole place had that new book smell.

I loved it so much, that after my freshmen year of college when I returned home for the summer, the first place I applied for a summer job was the new Books-A-Million down the street from my house. The starting pay was $6 an hour, which was just higher than minimum wage, and the job wasn’t food service. I also had a morbid curiosity to see behind the curtain of Books-A-Million. What was the clockwork behind the awkward teenager safe haven I had come to know so well?

After submitting my application and taking a skills test Jenny McCarthy would have flown through in her sleep, I got the job.

So, I endeavored to become familiar with the inner workings of Books-A-Million, or (to be more infectious and nauseatingly cute) BAM! for short. Make sure to include the exclamation point…that’s how you know we’re talking about the bookstore, and not the noise from my bowels involuntarily releasing like a pissed-off orangutan. (it tends to happen when I talk about Books-A-Million) As an employee we were actually expected to refer to it as BAM! If that doesn’t make you feel like a tool, I don’t know what will.

BAM! : the sound of all your literary needs met at low, low prices.
BAM!! : the sound of your dreams dying when you become a manager at Books-a-Million, and you realize this is your “career” now.
BAM!!! : the sound of the self-inflicted gunshot entering my brain after two weeks of working for these pod people.

Books-A-Million is just like any other soulless corporation. With a chew-you-up-and-spit-you-out philosophy toward employees, and a bean counting, “profits over people” attitude toward customer service, there isn’t anything new about the BAM! experience. It was, however, my first time working for such an entity, and after spending years trying to repress these memories, I’ve decided maybe purging them might be a better coping mechanism.

Consequently, please enjoy the following breakdown of your local Books-A-Million:

The Café
My first test on the job was manning the café. (At least I thought it wasn’t going to be food service) The manager at the time was on the way out, and you could tell she had been phoning in the job for quite some time. She basically handed me a recipe book and told me to get to coffee-ing.

Interestingly enough, they judged how well a drink was made by how much it weighed.  The recipes were so precise, they could tell how specifically you followed instructions by measuring it to the ounce. Well, my first few drinks tasted like shit but they weighed the correct amount, so f*ck it, away we go…on to the next task.

Sonicking
If you think “sonicking” sounds like a made-up word to add elitist jargon to a bullshit job, then you’re absolutely right. A monkey could’ve done the job, but I guess they wanted to add that extra level of prestige by imbuing book selling with its own set of professional terms.

“Sonicking” is the term for walking around the store like a jackass and making sure some of the books are spine out and some are face out in a way where every shelf is full.  This quickly became the useless busy work they’d assign anyone they wanted to keep occupied. The minute you’d get a reprieve from obnoxious customers who never quite mastered the whole “alphabet” thing, and couldn’t find anything they wanted on their own, a manager would sneak up behind you and ask you to go “sonic” the children’s section. As you can imagine, the children’s section looked like a damn train wreck every twenty minutes. Joking about how I’d rather go “sonic” the hedgehog never went over that well with my manager. Which brings me to…

The Staff
As with any low wage, customer service job, you become close with your peers very quickly. It’s like going into war against demanding assholes, and the pressure cooker unites all who are involved…except for the managers, of course.

The managers had dedicated far too much of their life to BAM! and they wore it very poorly. The bitterness iced over every word that left their mouth. I remember on my first day I was asked to retrieve the dust broom from the back room. I came back with your typical yellow broom. Apparently, a dust broom is a long, flat swiffer-like object, that my middle-class suburban upbringing had sheltered me from up to that point.  I’d never seen one before. My manager flipped out when she saw it and called me an idiot for not bringing the correct broom.

And it was like that with every thing. If I didn’t already know the arbitrary BAM! procedural knowledge, then I must be mentally deficient. I must be a moron if I didn’t know that you have to enter two zeros before you enter the promo code, then scan the item. What kind of a dumbass doesn’t know that from birth?

That job was the first time I heard the c-word used so liberally, and it was the first time I used it myself about someone standing ten feet away from me.

The BAM! Discount Card
This was, without question, the most ridiculous aspect of working at Books-A-Million: trying to force feed every customer a discount card. It cost $10 and would give people 10% off their purchases for a year. A pretty good deal, right? Yeah, maybe for the customer, but it sure sucked for the cash register jockey.

I can’t remember what the actual figure was, but we had a very specific quota of discount cards we were supposed to sell per week. One time I tried to explain to my manager the concept of diminishing returns. I explained that any given Books-A-Million location would only reach a certain number of people, and that of those people, only a small percentage would buy enough books to warrant purchasing this card. Finally, I said that to expect a consistent sales figure of discount cards week after week would violate both economics and common sense.

The response I got was what you’d expect: the regurgitation of some corporate talking point picked up on an orientation video into the world of BAM! middle management.

“There’s no ‘I’ in team” or “Just give it 110%” or some other nonsense motivator.

The reality is, there are three types of BAM! customer:

There is the book junkie who bought a discount card on day one and considered BAM! their home away from home. They’re taken care of for a year…you won’t sell one here.

There is the errand runner. This person is buying a gift for a friend, or needs one book on a very specific topic. Occasionally, they fall into Oprah’s book club for a month or so, but typically they aren’t “heavy users”. This is your target audience for selling discount cards. They tend to be parents, so they’re thrift conscious, and they also drastically overestimate just how often they’ll be heading into BAM! in the next year. “10% for $10!…Why, I’ll surely save hundreds of dollars this year!” You’ll see them maybe two more times, netting them a savings of about $3.47 unless getting the card turns them into the frequent flyer mentioned above.

Finally, there is the discrete porn shopper. Books-A-Million had what most places in the south didn’t have…access to sweet, sweet porno. On the top magazine rack behind tall black dividers was a pornocopia the average redneck was powerless to resist. I’d see Jimbo saunter in like he was going to buy a book on rifle maintenance or perhaps Auto Trader magazine, but as sure as he was inbred, he’d end up at the counter with a Penthouse. Now what exactly am I supposed to say to that guy? “You know, you can save 10% on your masturbating for the next year if you buy this $10 card!”

The Cleaning
After the shift was over it was time for the real fun. You see, not all porn partakers were so forthcoming as to actually purchase a magazine. It’s Books-A-Millions’ fault, really.   Carrying an ample supply of smut and maintaining a public restroom is a disaster waiting to happen. It shouldn’t surprise anyone what I’m about to describe.

In addition to the stray shit-bomb that went off in the BAM! restroom (BAM!!!! goes the shit-bomb in the ladies room) It was also common to find a baby-batter bomb had gone off in the men’s room. Yes, masturbation was a frequent occurrence at BAM! On the plus side, usually the magazines were left open, so I could see the exact same image our mystery guest did as he reached awkward hillbilly climax.

The Policies
It turns out, as asinine as it seemed, there was a very deliberate reason for the sales quota on discount cards. Apparently, there is a BAM! bylaw that all employees had to get a raise after they reached the 3-month mark. Conversely, every time you missed your quota you received a citation. Three citations meant eligibility for termination. This, my friends, is the genius move. The quota was impossible to achieve every week unless you hired friends and family to come in and buy discount cards from you.

This way BAM! could fire people at will with no real reason. They could get rid of anyone that didn’t submit completely to the BAM! way of life, and because the starting salary was a dollar an hour over minimum wage, there’d be a fresh crop of naïve innocents lined up to take the job like lambs to the slaughter.

The End
Then one day in August it happened to me. I was called into my boss’s office (stockroom) and got the news.

My performance wasn’t what they had come to expect at Books-A-Million. I hadn’t been reaching my quota frequently enough and they were going to have to let me go.

It was 4 days before my raise was to kick in.

This may sound like the irrational rant of a person too sensitive to being fired. “Sac up! So you got fired from a crappy bookstore, don’t be such a baby” you may be saying to yourself. The thing is, I’m speaking out not just for me, but for every employee of Books-A-Million.

And if you think I’m just pissed off, then let me clarify my point.  I’m glad I had this experience.  It’s given me priceless perspective.  Even when I’ve worked the most soul sucking job waiting tables, I could still say “Hell, at least it’s not Books-A-Million” and continue being badgered for napkins and ice water.

As for my time during that summer, I consider myself one of the lucky ones. I got out. The people I had to work with, though, were like zombies; barren husks of their formerly ambitious selves. I can picture each and every one of them on their first day at BAM!, wide-eyed with hope and youthful exuberance.

Slowly, day by shitty day, their head began to hang lower and lower. The bags under their eyes began drooping farther and farther. They hardened emotionally. Their blood turned from vibrant crimson to a drab shade of gray. Cleaning up man-seed in tissues became nothing more than their Tuesday night. “Sonicking” became a household word. They sold their soul to master the art of milking discount cards out of people. Slowly, they died inside.

For those BAM! veterans who got out alive, like me, I salute you. I often raise my glass to you when libations grace my table. Perhaps one day we can all unite, maybe start a support group, and pour one out for the poor souls still trapped in the oppressive world of Books-A-Million.

Danny

dannygrantmusic@gmail.com

I’m not saying it’s going to disappear entirely.  I like to think of it like this: No one needs a fireplace anymore now that we have central heat and air, and with the quality of home theater systems, no one really needs to go to the movies.  But as a society, we value these things.  We enjoy the act of sitting in a large theater and watching a new movie with strangers.  We enjoy sitting by the fireplace, even though we no longer rely on open flame for heat.  I imagine people will always enjoy sitting in a bar and listening to a guy stand on stage and tell jokes, even though we could just pipe in Justin Bieber songs and laugh at a castrato trying to pretend he’s into girls.

It only makes sense if he’s actually a lesbian

Stand-up comedy is an art form in and of itself.  It takes insight, creativity, timing, delivery, and a thick skin.  It should be revered and exalted on it’s own accord.  Instead, it’s seen more as a means to an end…that end being a television or film career.  You can credit “Last Comic Standing” for revitalizing stand-up to some degree, but again, most will parlay an appearance on the show, and any subsequent exposure, into becoming the “wacky neighbor” on the newest shitty sit-com.

If that’s the framework that we’re operating in, I’m prepared to accept it.  It’s only natural that certain mediums of entertainment will fall out of favor with the mainstream.  I doubt many people are longing for the old days when a magic show used to be an awesome Saturday night.

Bitchin'

Additionally, as much as it pains me to say, no one really cares about visual art (paintings, sculpture, etc.) anymore. There aren’t any Jr. High schools filled with kids abuzz about the new installation at the local art gallery…no, they’re talking about the new Transformers movie.  In fact, I think it could be said that film has become the 20^th and 21^st century equivalent of visual art; complete with an abstract, avant garde side and a commercial, aesthetically “pretty” side.

Cultural ebbs aside, as long as stand-up comedy still exists, I will still respect the craft.  As long as people still stand on stage and tell jokes, I will seek out the best among them.  And quickly ascending to the top of my list is Louis C.K.

Louie has been a favorite among other comedians for years now, which is no easy feat.  Comedians tend to be a catty bunch.  They’re all pleasantries to someone’s face, but pure vitriol behind their back.  Louis C.K. seems immune to this.

For example, Dane Cook’s celebrity exploded like an A-bomb.  You could call his place on the shit list of the stand-up community simple jealousy, but from what I gather, he was hated long before he took off.  Some people make compelling arguments that he borrowed some of his material from other comedians (namely Louis C.K.).  Call me crazy, but obvious plagiarism may have something to do with his infamy.  It may also be due to his “Maybe if I’m LOUDER I’ll be funnier!!!” approach to showmanship.  These days Dane Cook’s star seems to have burned brightly, but quickly.  He’s fizzled.

The Nickelback of stand-up comedy

Louis C.K., though, is a well respected comedian on the circuit.  It was only a matter of time before he ended up on your television in a more accessible way than guest comedian on a late night talk show.  First came his show on HBO, which failed pretty quickly.  Louie’s HBO show “Lucky Louie” was after the traditional (outdated) sit-com feel, but with a twist.  (The twist being the ability to say f*ck from time to time)  Louie was still married when he was producing the show, and I guess he wanted to take elements from his real life and turn them into episodes for the show.  This can be tough to make work, (more on that later) and it proved fatal for the fledgling series.

Also, I seem to recall a resounding, two-thumbs-down panning of  “Lucky Louie” from Barbara Walters on “the View”.  She thought it was too vulgar.  Funny, I always though B-Wal was down with filthy language.

"I'm hittin switches on bitches like I been fixed with hydraulics" - Barbara Walters

Now, years later, Louis C.K. is divorced from his wife (one of his reservoirs of comedic material) and going for round two with TV fame.  Cue FX to bankroll the project.  On June 29, 2010, FX premiered the comedy/drama/slice-of-life show “Louie”, written, directed, edited by and starring Louis C.K.  I’ve been tuning in every week, and like the majority of critics, I think this FX show is far superior to his HBO show.  Granted, I want to like it because I’m already a big fan.  I’m entering the viewing experience with my own preconceived bias in favor of the material.

With all deference to the work of Louis C.K., I still see some potential pitfalls in the future for his most promising TV venture yet.  I don’t want this one to fall by the wayside.  So the following is my personal note to Louis C.K.  This is my simplistic advice on keeping his brand of humor on the airwaves.  These are a few points where I think Louis will succeed or potentially falter.

——————————————————

To Sir Louis C.K. Esq.,

Please consider the following regarding your new show:

Don’t be afraid to dip into old material

Just because I’ve seen all your stand-up doesn’t mean everyone else has.  And I think your die hard fans will let it slide if you do the “Bill Gates” bit:

…or talk about dolphin safe tuna being bland because they took out the dolphin chunks.

You’re gonna have a lot of time to fill as the show goes into future seasons.  I think your storylines are broad strokes at the moment.  If you go with the bigger ideas, you may end up running out sooner than if you focused on smaller moments.

Don’t pull a “Seinfeld”. Keep the stand-up routines heavy in the show.

“Seinfeld” started out with the same formula “Louie” has employed: small vignette scenes cut with short comedy routines.  Eventually, “Seinfeld” streamlined this formula and opted for only an opening and closing comedy bit.  But, I think dropping stand-up bits randomly throughout the course of the episode is the better approach.  It bookmarks the important points.

Also, the stand-up is where you shine.  Embrace it.  You’ve mastered delivery and timing.  This is what got you the show in the first place.  As with anything in life, success can often just depend on playing to your strengths and avoiding your weaknesses.

I think a good rule of thumb would be at least 3 stand-up segments per episode.  Not necessarily a beginning, middle, and end, but the episodes that ended without one seemed to lack closure.

Be wary of how comedy bit situations translate into live action.

Despite it’s appearance on paper, sometimes describing a situation is much funnier than seeing it acted out in a dramatization (comeditization?).  When you impersonate the “other” person while describing a scenario, you still carry your sense of pace and comedic rhythm in the delivery…even as the straight man in the bit.

Some of the scenes in the show fall flat because the person you’re playing off doesn’t have the same comedic sense.  It becomes lifeless and stale while the same scene described in one of your comedy routines would be hilarious.

I know you can’t eliminate the vignettes entirely.  I know you can’t just do a 30 minute comedy routine every week (I wish).  So what you’ll have to do is be very scrutinizing of these scenes.  Make them more narrative than comedic.  The more dramatic elements really work.  It gives the show more character.  It offers a misanthropic flare that people enjoy, and usually relate to.  It’ll also allow the comedy to be more subtle in underhanded comments rather than over-the-top situations.

Continue to tackle touchy subjects

The following scene was a stroke of genius.  Not only was it poignant, but in the lighter moments it took some of the pressure off to be “on” by bringing in fellow comedians:

Things get serious around the 5 minute mark.

This is the kind of conversation we need more of in the world today.  This is the meaty stuff; the taboo elephant in the room.  Most people aren’t even comfortable saying that word (me included), let alone studying it’s etymology.  But how else will we evolve when we can’t even engage in a discussion about some of these sensitive topics?  In it’s own crude way, this scene is opening a dialog that will let people find common ground, that will lead to understanding, and maybe make someone think the next time they dip into their bag of pejoratives.

What gets people really talking about a show around the water cooler is not just shock value, or simple comedic value, but material that has intrinsic relevance to society.

It’s the stuff that pulls back the veil on how we interact with one another, even if wrapped in base humor, that gets people thinking.

Bravo, Louie.

——————————————————

It makes sense Louis C.K. would focus on the importance of words and their meaning.  Words are the paintbrush and palette of the stand-up comedian…the treatment and choice of words are of the utmost importance to the craft.  But maybe we should all take stock of the way we think about words.

I want everyone to watch the poker scene and think about how detached from words we become.  Words are utterances that are meant to carry symbolic weight.  Too often they start to lose their effectiveness as individual interpretations distort their original meaning.  Take the word “love” for example.  That word means 1,000 different things to 1,000 different people…and semantics are more important than people realize.  Our language is the tool with which we communicate, but it all goes out the window when the word I’m using means something differently to me than it does to you.  So maybe a childish insult to me is not really a big deal…but to someone with a painful personal anecdote it is a big deal.

And I don’t mean to put this on the top pedestal as the king of all after-school specials…I just mean that we forget how flimsy and ineffectual our words can be when their meaning varies so greatly from person to person.  It’s important to be reminded of this from time to time.  It’ll cause us choose our words more carefully, and that is never a bad thing.

And that point is just one of many examples of Louis C.K.’s incisive look at the world we live in.  True comedy is about looking at life on a deeper level, and Louie has an eye for some of the absurd things that hide in plain sight.  Things we’d do well to pay attention to from time to time.

He weaves some of the most brilliant insights I’ve ever heard seamlessly with the most vulgar language you can imagine.  His comedy is like electroshock therapy: a traumatic jolt to your senses that radically shifts the way you see the world.  It’s as irreverent as it is meaningful.  It’s kinda like (and get ready for some stretched logic here) Shakespeare.  Shakespeare laced deep societal insights in his plays while simultaneously employing cheap soap-opera style drama, explicit sexual situations, and basic dick and fart jokes to satisfy everyone watching.  The less educated and astute got their trashy base humor and drama, while the aristocrats got deeper philosophical observations to feast on.  Everyone was happy.  Here we are hundreds of years later, and Louis C.K. is doing the same thing.

The Bard of the new millennium

Louis C.K. says ridiculously offensive things.  But behind the bad words are a well intentioned person; a good person.  I know it’s paradoxical.  I’m not sure how he does it.  I’m not sure how someone can say the c-word several times in a bit, but never seem misogynistic.  I’m sure some people will only hear the filth, and I call those people short-sighted and overly sensitive.  And really, who needs them anyway? (I’m talking to you, B-Wal)

For the rest of us that appreciate the deeper thought process, we’ll hopefully have Louis C.K.’s voice around for a while.

Provided he heeds my brilliant advice.

Danny

dannygrantmusic@gmail.com

Have fun celebrating with your number one fan tonight.

Knowing what we know now about Mel and Gary.. this has to seriously jump up a few places on the list of greatest fights in movie history. It’s like the Irresistable Crazy meets the Immovable Insane. For all we know, the only amount of choreography that went into this was, “Alright.. you fight and Mel wins at the end. Now “Action!” “

What is going on in Arizona has nothing to do with race. It’s not whites against hispanics. It’s Americans vs. Illegal Immigrants. It’s business as usual in the media though, trying to portray whites as racist, close-minded bigots trying to hold another race of people down. I am a 35 year old white male. I am by all accounts what would be considered middle class. I wake up and go to work every Monday through Friday. I come home and help my kids with their homework and take them to their sporting events and other activities. On most days, I am up at 5:00am, at my desk at 6:30am, leave the office late in the afternoon and by the time the kids are in bed and I have a moment to myself, all I want to do is just sit on the couch, watch a little tv and get a decent night’s sleep so I can get up and do it all over again. I mow my own lawn. I put food on the table. Every once in a while, I take the kids to McDonald’s because it’s a special treat that they enjoy. My income taxes, social security contributions, etc. are automatically deducted from my paycheck. I get my health care through my employer. I lie awake at night sometimes just thinking about how much college is going to cost a decade from now when my kids are in high school and how I have nowhere near enough saved. Then I think about retirement and how I know I don’t have nowhere near enough saved at this point in my life. The media like to portray “white America” as either fatcat Wall Street types who light their cigars with hundred dollar bills or as ignorant rednecks living in double-wides. Either way.. it’s always a villainous portrayal. Well, you know what? I am a white American.

I am a person that was raised not  to see color. I grew up with the Cosby Show as the #1 rated show in America. I grew up listening to rap music and rock n’ roll and appreciated both equally. I get along with everyone.. blue collar, white collar, white, black, Asian, Hispanic and on a personal level, I can see that people are people and we’re all just trying to figure out what the hell we’re doing on this big rock. I am white America.

People love to throw out the term “American Dream”.. but what they seem to forget is that back in the day, with the flood of immigration through Ellis Island during the early part of the 20th Century is that the American Dream was simply to BECOME AN AMERICAN. Everything after that was gravy.. The Europeans that settled here from Italy, Ireland, Germany, etc.. assimilated into American culture. For their children’s sake, they learned how to speak English, assimilated into the culture and jumped into the melting pot. Their children were Americans and they raised them proudly as such. Our European ancestors did not come to this country and ask for America to take care of them.. they came here to take care of their families in America. They worked their asses off and the thought of a government handout was insulting to them. I don’t know about other cultures but I can say for damn sure, that the men of my grandparents generation of Italians in this country would be ashamed to even consider help from the government to financially take care of their families.

The color of my skin automatically carries the stigma of being considered some sort of racist oppressor if I say anything bad about anyone. I’ll never see an Italian-American president in my lifetime yet somehow I am supposed to feel some sort of guilt simply because of the color of my skin. White people marched with blacks during the civil rights movement, yet the only time you ever see white people in old video footage from that era, it’s spraying the hoses on black people.. and fifty years later, here we sit, with white people being intellectually oppressed and effectively muzzled by the mainstream media because god forbid if you have an opinion on anything.. the media sprays the hose on you and accuses you of being a racist. Then you have to do the little dance, defending yourself against the almighty “R” word with such ridiculous defenses as “Some of my best friends..” and by the time it’s all said and done, you’re exhausted and sorry you even opened your mouth in the first place. And African Americans.. while you’re sitting there buying into what they’re selling you about this immigration issue being another whites vs. minority battle.. all I can is, wake up… cause just like the media doesn’t give a flying f*ck about lower income white people.. you’re up next on the chopping block.

Remember when Isaiah Washington called TR Knight a “faggot” on the set of Grey’s Anatomy and a few months later he was given his walking papers because of it? That was the first taste that the plight of the African American in this country can be trumped by another group of people. You think it’s a coincidence that after the media celebrated our first African American president that all of a sudden here we are a year or so later, a different minority group has now come center stage in the media’s eye and has become their new focus? How can the media possibly sell the African American as the down trodden picked on race in American society when one of their own has reached the pinnacle of American politics? They can’t.. and they know it.. and they’re moving on.

Conflict sells. Strife sells. You look at any article on Yahoo or your local newspaper’s website about the problem of illegal immigration and you’ll see an interesting dichotomy, in that the story itself’s slant is so left wing and sympathetic towards the noble illegal immigrants, yet all of the reader comments underneath the articles have such a different opinion. The majority of Americans agree with what Arizona is doing.. they’re fed up with illegal immigrants draining our economy, taking away from our own children, making us bear the burden with supporting their families. (On a side note.. if the government really wants to go after illegal immigrants.. do it old school, like they did with Al Capone. Don’t even make race an issue.. just go after them on tax evasion. Most Americans; even bleeding heart liberals hate tax evaders.)

So here you have the media trying to slant the issue to make it seem like the majority of Americans support illegal immigrants when it’s not the case.. and the people that don’t support it are clicking on the articles and voicing their opinions and giving the news outlets what they reeeallly want.. which is clicks on their websites for ad revenue because that’s what all this bullshit is really  about.. and presto, we have our next civil rights movement burgeoning.. and guess what, sooner or later.. the lower class black people in this country are going to be cast aside like lower class white people were.. their voice completely taken away and eventually, when they finally speak up.. they might even start calling you racists for speaking your mind. How dare you speak ill against the noble illegal immigrants. Oh, it might not happen tomorrow.. or next year.. but it’s going to happen unless we give the media a new slant to the story.

And what the hell would sell better than whites and blacks as Americans coming together in solidarity to take a stand? Man, that would be something the likes of which hasn’t been seen since Apollo Creed showed up in Rocky’s corner when he went into his rematch with Clubber Lang. You guys have the president.. now is your chance to speak up.. now is your chance to step up. Pull out your race card and help us, cause pretty soon it’s going to be void in fifty states, Arizona included. Comprende?

Writer’s note – this was actually written at the beginnning of June but I didn’t go through with posting it.. but you know what, there is nothing racist about being a proud American and wanting what’s best for our citizens’ children.. so screw it. The media tries to sell it as a class warfare between the upper class and the lower class.. but the truth is, all rich people do is keep more money in their own pockets.. while it’s the illegal immigrants that  take money out of the middle and lower class’ pockets. While we’re being nickel and dimed for health care, insurance, exorbitant property taxes, illiegal immigrants are working the system. They’re dropping anchor babies and getting free health care, government subsidized housing and food. Their children are going to qualify for our middle class citizens children’s college scholarships because we make just a tad too much money and our children are going to be saddled with student loans upon graduation while people that aren’t even in this country legally’s children will walk out unburdened. The American Dream? It’s been stolen.. and I only wish all of the voices who only feel comfortable commenting on message boards and under articles can somehow find a way to get a voice to Washington and let them know that they don’t speak for us.. 

I mean, wasn’t it less than a decade ago that 9/11 happened and all of a sudden our society was rallying together  and it seemed like Hollywood was taking a backseat to real issues and now here we are worse than ever.. being inundated with Lindsay Lohan updates and a daily dose of Mel Gibson phone conversations (which are friggin great by the way.. ) while the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan aren’t even talked about in the mainstream media hardly at all anymore. Are we still shellshocked by 9/11. Is the country in some sort of collective Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that was compunded by the recession? Because I look at America right now and man, it’s friggin depressing. It’s just a sad state of affairs and maybe that’s just the nature of the game.. You get older and shake your head because you know how much better things used to be.. while the country just keeps rolling along.. Maybe the American Dream was just a dream all along and the reality was always this  depressing. Who the hell even knows..

Dave

dave@whatever-dude.com