An Explanation and Mini-Posts

Family, Friends, Criminals that I've contracted to kill my family and friends:

You've probably noticed that I haven't posted for almost a month, and I think it's safe for me to assume that you've been dying to know about the adversity I've been conquering, the life lessons I've been withholding, or the supermodels I've been sleeping with, etc. But before I get into that, I need to explain where I've been.

So I've spent the majority of the last month playing Sid Meier's Civilization IV. And it's with deep reservations that I reveal this. I couldn't decide if this was one of those secrets that I should keep to myself because it's so shameful, or if it was one of the harmless concessions prideful people should make so that we can live in a more peaceful world. I'm still not sure where this lays, but needless to say, playing this game isn't something I'm proud of.

See, I've been playing this this nerd fest of a game series off and on for the last 11 years. The crescendo of ridiculousness was in 2000 with Civ II, when I spent a few months ignoring the girlfriend, showers and academic obligations in order to bring the Babylonians the glory history denied them. And after an emperor level victory of total domination, after amassing what must be the greatest score in the history of Civilization II, I realized the emptiness that comes from fulfilling one's loserish ambitions. So I swore off the Civilization series for the last 9 years. I was successful in concentrating on more noble pursuits, like drinking too much and watching endless hours of television. But on a recent trip to San Fransisco with Nix and Hari, a trip fraught with rain that kept us indoors, I turned to our host Inder's videogames for entertainment. He just happened to have Civilization and the rest, as they say, is a history of me returning home to buy the video game for myself and repeating some terrible life decisions.

But it's not like I didn't have ideas for posts in the last month. It's just that I never fully fleshed them out since they got in the way of building settlers, vanquishing my enemies and building extensive trade networks that allowed for the development of technologies at a faster rate. But since I've sworn off this silly game yet again, I've put together the abbreviated versions of those never finished posts for your enjoyment/distraction from the vast emptiness that this existence is:

1. Taco Tuesday II- The Retacoing

I ate some tacos on their designated day to be cheap and alliterative and realized once again how fantastic boobs are. I didn't even notice the girl sitting next to me until she got up to use the bathroom, but when she walked in front of my sight line she definitively settled the question of whether there is a maker. And apparently this maker of ours is a pervert. Jebus, if you guys had only seen this girl. When she got back to her seat I couldn't eat tacos or watch the Lakers' game or talk to my non-chesty friends because the only thing in the world that mattered was this lady and her boobs. So I listened with full attention about her double major in international studies and psychology, what it was like to grow up in England, her job after graduation and I truly, sincerely, cared about each and everything she had to say. I could've listened to this girl talk about anything in the world, like how much she loves Grey's Anatomy, or how much better looking her ex-boyfriends are, or how Ann Coulter and Rush Limbaugh are actually right about it all.

But the thing that troubled me about the whole experience was not how she lost interest after 15 minutes, but how social norms dictate that I can't talk about what was really on my mind. Why do I have to wait until after this girl has let me touch her boobs a few times before I can address how great they are? And it's not just that I can't talk about them, I'm also troubled that I got to be real careful not to get caught staring at them. So here I am straining to keep my eyes on her face while she's talking about some really uninteresting stuff, and she's wearing a cleavage revealing tank top so she's definitely aware of the effect her boobs have on guys. I mean, she wants me to notice those boobs. Or at the very least she wants better looking guys to notice her boobs. But none of us can talk about those boobs just yet. We got to wait until she's given tacit permission for us to talk about them. Sigh. It's a topsy turvy world.

2. Weekend at Bernies 3

Most of you already know that I spent the two years between college and law school trying to write a book. I called it The Great American Novel and couldn't any agent to represent it, any publisher to buy it, or any friend or family member to read it. So I gave up on the writing and instead focused on the exciting and rewarding career of being a lawyer. Sigh. But since graduating last May I've had nothing but time on my hands while I wait for this job with the Army to start. So my life has become an exercise in killing days. And I spent 3 months last fall writing short stories and outlining the next book, The Great American Novel II- Even Greater and More American, in order to get through the days without losing my mind while the rest of the world went to work. Well, the last of the rejections of that short fiction just got back to me. So that's it. No more. I've given up on putting effort into writing stuff just to have it rejected by "professionals" who have been "trained" to recognize "work" that has "artistic" merit.

But even though I'm not submitting my stories to professionals, I still have ideas that fill my head and too much time on my hands. And so I feel the need to share these ideas with the 6 of you readers. And if any of you 6 reads the comments sections, you probably noticed that the Onion basically stole from this blog when it published this story. So I'm starting to think that one of you out there has some connections in the biz, and that if I keep putting ideas on here then you'll keep stealing them and they'll keep getting published somehow. So my new business plan is to continue putting these posts on here, allow you to steal from me, and then I'll sue you and the companies that paid you.

So what's the idea that will guarantee my financial security and finally put my legal education to work? It's a movie. A fake documentary that goes behind the scenes of the filming of the big Hollywood production of the same name (Weekend at Bernie's 3 for those of you who don't understand the purpose of titles or context clues). I haven't worked out the details of the plot for the movie within the movie. I'll let the thief among you worry about why Bernie's rotted corpse is being dug up again.

But the real action is the documentary part. Of course we'll need to secure Jonathon Silverman and Andrew McCarthy to star in this thing. But I have a feeling that neither of them has any pressing engagements. There should be a scene or two with with them talking about how exciting it is to be back in Hollywood, and you can just see this excitement in their gestures and hear it in their voices. But their faces should betray an anxiousness, a nervousness that this movie will bomb just like Weekend at Bernie's 2 did and that they will have to go back to their lives of serving dinners or washing cars instead of living the good life. I think both of them have the talent to pull of the subtle anxiousness that is needed to make this aspect of the movie believable, since I felt that these men have always had some talent. But if it turns out they've lost a step or two, then the best bet is not to tell them that the documentary is actually the real film. Pretend it's some promotional thing and they'll probably be unable to hide their real fears.

But the most important part to this movie is Bernie, who isn't interviewed until about half-way through the documentary, and it turns out that he's really dead. So when he's giving the interviews he's a rotted corpse, with flesh coming off the bone and worms eating out of his stomach and all of that. But he's surprisingly articulate and has a great perspective. He'll talk about how, on the one hand, it sucks to have his corpse continually disturbed but, on the other, he understands that a man has to eat. And this whole thing is a metacommentary on the ability of the business side of Hollywood to suck the life out of anything with any artistic merit and how they'll sequel any piece of shit that's surprisingly profitable, even when the story arc to the first movie makes it impossible to credibly tell another story, but that's not important because what's important in this world is to accumulate cash so that you have a higher purchasing power than your brethren so that you can buy nicer things and go to nicer vacation spots and eat nicer food because those ends are what life is really about because it in no way makes you feel empty inside like the way a total domination victory on the emperor level with the Babylonians makes you feel empty inside, because that's a different kind of empty.

3. I Thought About Hooking Up With a Homeless Woman

In my defense, I didn't realize she was homeless at first. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but I'm kind of in shape and work out and have a nice body and the ladies, if they ever were to see me with my shirt off, would swoon. So after swimming for my work out I went into the giant spa/hot tub/I'm not sure the term to call a large vat of hot water where you get fit 30 or so people is. And I'm people watching while I'm relaxing those large muscles of mine when I see an older woman with a fit body. The first thought in my head, as it often is, is whether I'd bang her since she looks good in a bikini. And while I'm deciding on yes she catches me staring. So she glances away kind of shy like, then she walks around the outside of the giant vat of a hot tub for a bit and at first I assume I just creeped her out. But then she descends the steps, flashes me a smile and moves right next to where I'm sitting. And it's in the smile that I figure it out. She's missing a tooth. So now things are awkward, because I'm looking away and pretending like I can't even see the lady I just spent 30 seconds checking out. And she also smells awful. Terrible. Like this was her bath kind of terrible. So it's hard to ignore her. And she keeps glancing over every once in a while, because she's probably assumed by the way I looked at her she can bang a meal or some money for crystal meth off of me, and now I'm pretending like I'm still people watching everyone on the stairmasters and not thinking about when it's appropriate to walk away without hurting a homeless woman's feelings. About 5 minutes into this awkward silence I decide I've had enough of this whole thing and I walk out, and on the way I look again and see she has a touch of armpit hair so now I'm certain about this homeless thing and I feel like puking for earlier thinking of what it would be like to bang her. Anyways, to make a short story even longer, I left and biked home and even though there wasn't a chance in hell that I'd hook up with a homeless woman, it was still flattering that she was so obviously into me. I guess I still got it.

Memorandum

To: Pear Sandwich
From: Sir Fantastic
Subject: Empty Promises of Sex
Date: April 30, 2009


I. QUESTION PRESENTED

In California, is there an actionable claim for breach of contract when a girl promises sex but then fails to perform?

II. SHORT ANSWER

There is not an enforceable contract because public policy does not permit contracts for sex. Alternatively, even if there were a legally enforceable contract, there is no satisfactory remedy because specific performance under a contract for services will not be awarded unless the services were unique. Therefore, any remedies must be nonjudicial in nature.

III. DISCUSSION

In November 2008, Sir Fantastic (hereafter “Fantastic”) was in his bedroom with Jane Doe. Ms Doe expressed concern that things were moving too fast. Fantastic agreed to slow things down, although he was confused. Just a few nights earlier it had been Ms. Doe who had wanted sex but Fantastic had decided against it. So he queried Ms. Doe about her change of heart. She informed Fantastic that she wanted to wait until she felt more comfortable. She then promised that Fantastic would be able to have sex with her at a later date, a date that was never specified. It has now been five months since the promise of sex was made. And it is quite evident that Ms. Doe is not planning on keeping her promise.

The first issue is whether there was a contract at all. A contract is formed when there is an offer, acceptance, and consideration. Currently Unemployed v. Means No Westlaw/Lexis (Fake Citation Ct. 2009). Here, Ms. Doe offered to perform sex at a later date and Fantastic accepted. The real question, then, is whether there was any consideration.

Consideration exists when one acts in a manner for which they has a legal right to act, or when one omits to act when one had a legal right to act. Sounds Like Something v. I Learned In First Year Contracts (Fall 2005) Since Fantastic stopped making his moves after the promise from Ms. Doe, he was omitting to act where he had a legal right to act, i.e. continuing to fire up her loins. Thus, all necessary elements of a contract were present, and a contract was entered into.

However, a contract will not be enforced in California if it violates public policy. I Imagine This v. Is What the Law Is (Cal. 2009) Consensual sex between two adults, of course, does not violate public policy. However, the problem is that this situation is too closely analogous to an illegal contract. That is, one cannot contract to have sex through payment. And a court would almost surely feel that simply because the consideration in this case was nonpecuniary, that does not make the agreement any less distasteful. Thus, it is fairly certain that a court would not enforce this contract. Therefore, Fantastic would not have any success suing Ms. Doe.

As an additional point, though, even if the public policy were to change before the limitations period expired, say because the legislature changed the laws and legalized prostitution, Fantastic would still not be entitled to any satisfactory equitable remedies. That is, Fantastic will only be satisfied by the performance under the contract. He is not interested in a damage award. But since this is a contract for services, specific performance will only be awarded if the services that were to performed under the contract are of a unique quality. Memories From v. Studying For the Bar (July 2008) And judging from past experiences with Ms. Doe, these services, while nice, would not fit the definition of unique.

IV. CONCLUSION

Fantastic must seek redress outside of court. Unfortunately, Fantastic cannot call Ms. Doe since he deleted Ms. Doe’s phone number. (Fantastic was afraid he would otherwise send Ms. Doe regrettable drunken text messages.) However, even if Fantastic had that number, it does not seem like it would matter. Ms. Doe has not returned Fantastic’s last two Facebook messages, and so appears to have no interest in negotiating a settlement. Thus, Fantastic would be best served by forgetting Ms. Doe for the time being. Instead, he should focus on other females before he leaves to serve his country honorably in the JAG Corps.

There is also another reason that Fantastic should not plan on contacting Ms. Doe. There remains the possibility that in four year’s time, Ms. Doe could have a change of heart. Perhaps she will find herself single and in her early 30s. If that were the case, then it is advisable for Fantastic to not do anything that would burn the bridge with Ms. Doe. Thus, he should avoid sending any more Facebook messages or making any ridiculous blog posts. His best bet is to wait until he returns from his patriotic stint, then hope that his earning potential as an attorney and her fear of failing to lock down a man before her beauty fades are enough to overcome whatever personality or physical flaws prevented Ms. Doe from giving up the goods in the first place.

What's The Deal With People Making Racially Charged Remarks About Donovan McNabb?

It's the strangest thing. Racially charged remarks hover over Donovan McNabb like the way he hovers over a plate of fried chicken. This shiite has been going on at least since 2003, when Rush Limbaugh worked for ESPN and had this to say:

“I think what we’ve had here is a little social concern in the NFL. The media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well. They’re interested in black coaches and black quarterbacks doing well … McNabb got a lot of the credit for the performance of the team that he really didn’t deserve.”

And I think we can all agree that the implication of Rush's statement, that there's a liberal bias in the sports media, is idiotic. The sports media doesn't give two shits about party politics. Not anymore at least. Sure, maybe there was a time when one could make a credible argument for a liberal tint to sports reporting. Back when most of the national sports sections bucked the predominant trend and supported McGovern's candidacy for president. But that wasn't because of partisanship. That was about specific issues connected to the personalities of the men -- McGovern's opposition to the designated hitter and Nixon's secret taping of the Democratic play calls. Anyways, you get the idea. Rush is an idiot.

But for some reason the problem of racially charged remarks surrounding McNabb isn't just coming from Rush. And it's been going on for the better part of a decade. I guess McNabb didn't help matters when he said that black quarterbacks are judged more harshly than white quarterbacks. I do know that the Onion thinks McNabb is held up to a ridiculous standard. And it's really hard to argue with the Onion, since they've been so spot on about our collective ridiculousness on so many other occasions.

But I'm digressing here. I have no stake in whether McNabb is viewed differently as a quarterback because of his race. I'm just saying it's freaking ridiculous how often racially charged remarks are made about/by/with McNabb. But really all of this McNabb talk is just about me coming up with something to lead into this video I want to share. Mark, one of PS's 4 loyal readers, sent me this video today. I found it hilarious but I can't just post videos. That's not what this blog is about. It's about writing gibberish that goes on for so long that only family and close personal friends could pretend to read any of it. Purple monkey dishwasher.

I Am the One Bright Spot in an Otherwise Dark and Ugly World

If you want to see the world at it's worst then watch what happens when a foul ball isn't caught cleanly at a baseball game.

I was at the Angel game a few weeks ago when someone fouled a ball straight back. An unathletic and overweight 12 year old was the closest person to it, but he only managed to get his fingertips on it. He was sitting at the front row of the upper deck and the ball just barely got high enough for him to touch it at all. The kid would have been risking death if he'd done any more, and it would have been the greatest catch by any fan of all time. Getting a hand on the ball was more than could be expected from a professional athlete, let alone this 'never going to see a naked girl' pork chop. Yet the crowd booed him mercilessly. It was terrible. I couldn't believe how cruel everyone was. Didn't they realize that the kid would probably go home and cry his eyes out? Didn't they realize that this is precisely the type of kid that is already marginalized by society? Didn't they realize that this only increases the probability of this kid killing hookers as an adult? Anyways, so I felt for the kid.

Later in that same game there was also this dad who dropped his 2 year old daughter when a foul ball was hit 5 rows behind him. I mean, the man was sitting on the aisle and the ball was heading for the stairs so he did have a good shot at catching this ball. And he did end up with it. But it's just all that he did to get it. First he dropped his kid. Then he ran backwards up those steps, but he didn't make a clean catch. So the ball rolls down the steps and he bowled down after it, knocking over anyone who got in his way. Like he seriously knocked this other guy sideways, and this other guy fell into his friends. There's bodies all over the floor here, including -- again let me emphasize the point -- his toddler who may have brain damage now, all in the pursuit of something that can be purchased at a store for $4.

So yes. This is a weird and strange world we live in. But then enters your hero Sir Fantastic.

At the Angel game today I made a clean bare-handed catch of a foul ball. No big deal or anything. I mean, this is me we're talking about. Except I didn't get the standard round of applause from the crowd for a clean catch, just because I didn't pump my hands in the air like a jack ass. I simply took my seat. A catch like that is par for the course for me. One dood even yelled out, "why didn't you do anything?" And I didn't answer because I didn't feel like turning my head. But assuming he's a pear sandwich reader, I'll answer him now.

1. I am a spectacular athlete.

I don't raise my hands over my head like I just won the lottery for making routine catches. Yes professional athletes need gloves. I do not.

2. I am a spectacular person.

See, I'm humble and don't need the shallow applause of strangers in order to feel good about myself. I'll just watch the next pitch thank you very much. Except when I'm watching the next pitch, I'm also thinking about ways I can make the world a better place. For example, there was a little tyke sitting behind me who had been talking about catching a foul ball all game. But as luck would have it for him, when the ball came our way he and his dad were on the other side of home plate. Dad later told me they'd been hanging out with friends who were sitting over there. See, when Dad got back he wanted to talk about the foul ball. Apparently he'd seen the play. And that's when I so graciously and selflessly offered the ball to the kid. That's just who I am. I am kindness. I just want to live in a better and more peaceful world. I don't need to possess things like baseballs. I want to possess things like the memories of children's smiles or a house on the beach. And no, I wasn't disappointed that the kid wasn't there when I caught the ball because then the crowd would have seen me give him the ball, and then there would have been some serious applause and recognition of how wonderful a person I am. I feel no need for others to know about the kind things I do. That's not who I am.

3. I can dream the future.

So last night I dreamt I caught a foul ball. I'm not shitting you. Seriously. I'd forgotten the dream until the third inning when it came rushing back to me. That's when I started paying more attention to the hitters in anticipation of the dream coming true, and I think that helped me catch the ball and everything. I mean, there are rational explanations for this dream so maybe it's not just that my unconscious is in tune with the other dimensions where the relativity of time lives or anything. See, the seats are in prime foul ball territory. They're on the second level near home plate and down the first base line. And since I knew that ahead of time, it's possible that my unconsciousness could have been processing my fantasies of what I hoped would happen the next day. However, I think the more reasonable explanation is that I have superpowers. And one of my superpowers is to see into the future with my dreams. So that means I have something to say to those lady friends who pop into those dreams from time to time -- man are we going to have some fun together. U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

Just Because I'm Ugly Doesn't Mean I Can't Break A Girl's Heart

As I hope that picture demonstrates, I started out life pretty handsome. The girls loved lil’ Sir Fantastic. 6th grade was the best year, after pretty boy John Hines moved away. That’s when I became the uncontested cock-of-the-walk. The ladies would pester me about who I was going to square dance with at Outdoor Ed, or who I would do the couples skate with at the roller rink, etc.

And that younger success messed with my head. See, since then I haven't exactly been living the life of a playboy. And until this weekend I haven't been able figure out why. I mean, I've had my suspicions that it was because I got uglier as I got older. Puberty was rough on my complexion and all. But I never thought I was unattractive or anything. I mean, I still have the same basic bone structure, right? Yes dates were scare in high school and after, but I always thought that was more a result of the defective personality than the acne scars and Steve Carrell nose.

Well on Saturday I learned I'd been wrong. It's the face. I was talking with the ex-special lady Tina about how I'm essentially single again, and the conversation went something like this:

“So what’s your next move?”

“Eh, I don’t know. My Match membership is over. I guess I’ll do that new free one you’re doing, Plenty of Fish?”

“Yea it’s good. I got this thing going on…” She then talked about some guy she's talking to on there and I pretended to care, waiting for the conversation to turn back to me. When it did I explained my concerns with the internet dating.

“Yea the only problem though is that I haven’t had much success with Match even. I mean, I got a few dates and what not, but that was only with girls I knew from the real world from before. I mean, maybe it’s because my profile is kind of weird? Like it’s funny, but maybe girls who don’t know me don’t find it funny?”

“Well, what pictures you got up there? That's all that really matters. I only look at the guy’s pictures.”

“Yea maybe that's it. I just don’t know what a weird pic of me looks like. I feel like I’m pretty good looking in all of them.”

She laughed, but not in a good way. Then she proceeded to help me out by looking through my Facebook for the attractive pictures. You know, ones that I could post on Plenty of Fish. And as she was going through the 100+ photos she was making snarky comments about my fashion decisions or my facial expressions and what not. Then I realized something terrible had just happened.

“You know you only picked one photo of me.”

“Ha, really? Haha yea. I guess I'm at the end. I’ll go through them again.”

“Um, uh…that’s ok. I mean, you basically just told me I only have one picture good enough to share. And you weren’t even sold on that picture. You basically just told me I’m ugly.”

“Ha. No it’s just that I started in the middle…”

“It’s fine. I’ve been suspecting that I’m ugly for a while now.”

“No. I mean…well…why don’t you just post one of the pics of your attractive black friends?”

“You mean, make a girl think she’s going on a date with an attractive black man and then show up and it’s a white guy with a receding hair line?”

“Hahaha. Yea Exactly.”

And I laughed too. I mean, that would be pretty funny. When the lady has a good idea, she has a good idea. So here we are.




















So I made the profile the other day with pictures of my friend Freddie. He's the guy standing next to the greasy faced freak above. Below is a pic I put up on the profile. (You'll have to ask him what the hell he's doing with his face and hands.)

So I figure I’ll write a follow-up blog post about how the girl/s react upon seeing me instead of Freddie on our date. There’s a few issues that mean these dates might never happen though. First, I’ve found that I’m pretty worried I’m going to hurt a girl’s feelings with this. I mean, what if some lady really gets her hopes up about this fine looking gentlemen, and then one day he just stops emailing? She might go into some neurotic self-analysis of what she did wrong, never suspecting that it was some weird ass prank. And even if we get to the point where she realizes it's a prank because there's the pimply faced white guy with the creepy smile waiting at the bar instead of Freddie, I’m not sure that will make it any better. Oh well, that’s what women get for not liking me enough.

The second problem is that I’ve found I’m still afraid of rejection. I mean, even though I’m going to be sending these messages from a fake profile, I’ve realized I’m too nervous to actually send them. I know that’s pathetic but 6th grade was a long time ago. I just have to remind myself that for all these girls know I’ve actually got hair and own a car and am in shape and don't cry for half the day about the poor decisions I've made to end up where I am.

So, like I said, if I don't get past those issues this prank will never see the light of day. So who knows if there will be a follow up post or not. But the point remains, apparently I am ugly and apparently my deepest fears were right on – the special ladies like to think on my attractive friends while the two of us are together. Oh well. Such is life. U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

Things Get Absurd

So it's happened again. The anger in the political sphere has become so absurd that it's driven me to the blog posting. So Obama bows to a Saudi King and shakes hands with a South American blowhard and America has become a groveling shell of it's former self, eh?

Ah man. Well I don't want to spend too much time writing here. It's just that here we are again with the differing standards political partisans hold their leaders up to depending on whether these leaders in the predetermined friend or foe camp. I mean, you got Bush bowing and holding hands in these pictures. And you got Nixon smiling and shaking hands with a virulent anti-American communist dictator.


































Funny how the tribal warfare of our political system retards our political discussions. And by funny I mean tragic since the real question should be about how U.S. presidents of all political stripes must pay a little too much respect to the leader of a repressive political regime because otherwise we might not get that oil priced in dollars or maybe they'll stop buying up so much of our bonds.

Anyways, I guess there's also some philosophical differences in here about what it means to be weak or strong. And some people really think that showing kindness to an enemy like Chavez is a sign of weakness. God knows that when you encounter people who can't be kind to their enemies in the day-to-day world, that you know these people have serious psychological issues. Like when you got that friend who won't be nice to your other friend cause of some perceived slight and it's just so unbelievably annoying because if one of them would just sack it up and be nice everything would just wash under the bridge. But then I forget that this approach of treating those that don't like you with utter disgust was the foreign policy for the last eight years. And I forget that our previous leaders were those really insecure douchebags that never had the self-confidence to be gracious. Anyways, I hope that series of pictures above demonstrate the absurdity of this righteous anger over Obama's perceived weakness. Although I am pretty upset about him genuflecting to the pet of a foreign leader. You'd never see Churchill appease a golden retriever like this. Freaking democrats are such pussies.

Art Criticism, Life, Criticism

I was just watching Synecdoche and I'm feeling inspired. My man Phillip Seymour Hoffman put together the grandest play in human history. He did something brave and daring. And I want to join the party. To create something true. On my blog. Sigh. I know. But what can I do? I don't have another outlet. At least not until I sell my script.

It's called Motel For Dogs. It's about a pair of canine lovers who take up residence in a cheap motel after falling on hard times. But since no one is biting on the script, dog or otherwise, I can only assume that the movies people want to see are those that offer an escape from our current economic problems. And this movie does just the opposite, by looking unflinchingly at the depravity and crushing despair a down-on-their-luck person might sink to through anthropomorphizing dogs. The canine couple first turns to drugs as comfort for their plight, but then their habits eventually come to consume them. The climatic scene of total despair is when Freckles' (the female lead's) litter of crack puppies are forced to watch their mother satisfy an abusive stray and a corrupt police dog to pay off another of Rusty's (male lead's) debts. I'm holding out hope that a courageous studio exec will see this as a modern day Lady and the Tramp. Fingers crossed everyone. These student loans aren't going to pay off themselves.

As you can tell I'm writing this post at 4 in the morning on a Saturday. I should be asleep but I turned down offers to go to bars with friends and drink and laugh and let the cares of the world disappear. Instead I wrote more of the novel I'm never going to finish and watched Synecdoche. And my God what a movie. Charlie Kaufman is a genius. It was better than an orgasm with a woman you love while eating ice cream and watching Synecdoche. Trust me, that joke makes sense. Just watch the movie.

But while I was marveling at how brilliant this confusing movie was it got me thinking about a spirited and drunken debate me and my buddies got into after we saw No Country For Old Men. One buddy, Poopface McGee, said it was the greatest movie yada yada. My other buddy, Mark, believed otherwise and said something like, “Yea? And how about the end? It’s like from Arrested Development when Maeby says 'Just stick on something nonsensical and since no one wants to look stupid people will say it’s brilliant.’ ‘Oh, I had a dream where my father was on a horse and then...’ cut to black...brilliant!”

And Mark kind of had a point then and it's an equally valid point about Synecdoche. Especially in the jumping between characters and time and Jesus I still can't process the different layers of what is real and what is the play parroting reality. Nonetheless. This movie is so good. Maybe it’s just because I see myself as a man obsessed with his own death who is incapable of ever finishing his opus or having a successful relationship with a female. Especially since these women care more about the salad they ordered than the words coming out of my mouth. Like while I’m saying all these things I think are brilliant they’re wondering how they’re going to get out of this awkward food eating experience and never see me again because, let’s face it, I'm fairly disappointing in the sack. Jesus H. Absolutely brilliant. Anyways, if there’s one movie you should have seen last year it’s this one.

Point number 2. The Office sucks now. There’s no ifs ands or buts about it. I date the show's decline to the middle of the 3rd season. Right after the merger stuff was finished, since that's when the American writers could no longer steal the story lines from Ricky Gervais' tightly wound and perfectly executed 12/14 episode series (depending on how you're counting). So once the American Office became rudderless the writers started throwing out cheap gags that wouldn't have hooked us on the show if that's how it had started. I mean, the pull of the show was always the awkward-attention-seeking-unloved boss and the tension between a well-matched couple who because of fear didn't express their affection for each other. Those story lines allowed for the comedy, but once the over-the-top absurdity became the central focus, well then the show became average at best. (Really, Dwight burns his feet on hot coals to get a promotion or Michael drives his car into a lake to prove a point?) In other words, I feel like the Office and I got off to a great start but now it's clear that this isn't going anywhere. And I want out. But it's so hard to get out, you know? Those times were great. Some of the best times of my life. So for now I'm still watching but I'm thinking of other TV shows I could be watching instead.

Point number 3. What Happens in Vegas was better than I thought it would be. Now I know that’s going to open me up to some criticism so let me be clear. We’re talking about baselines. I thought it was going to be absolute shiite and it was just plain terrible. But I’m only talking about that movie because of the development of Cameron Diaz’s character who (I would say spoiler alert but I'm pretty sure that anyone who would be upset that the plot to What Happens in Vegas is ruined for them has already been murdered (justly so) by their parents or significant others.) quits her demanding job because it's not making her happy. Is there any more hackneyed device these days? I mean, maybe this criticism is unnecessary since the Depression 2.0 will change my generation's mentality towards work and we won't have to deal with the overuse of this device anymore. But in case that doesn't happen I want to emphasize how common this tired story line has become by listing movies that use it:

Waitress, Waiting, Valkeryie, Dark Knight – ok so I'm having trouble proving my point here. Those first two movies definitely do it. I guess it’s too late for me to think straight but it’s true. Once you start looking for the unhappy protagonist who quits his/her job and this is portrayed as heroic and not short-sighted or childish then you’ll see it all over the place. Maybe I’ll write a comment that proves this point later but for now take my word for it.

Point number 4. So I didn’t read many reviews of Watchmen but what I did read rated the movie negatively. And that I can't tolerate! I mean, I don't know why I went for the exclamation point but it felt more appropriate than a period. Maybe it's because I didn’t read the graphic novels or anything so I came in with no expectations or background knowledge. So this was my first exposure to the story line but holy Mother of God. What a story. I mean, it turns an escapist formula like comic books on its head. Moral ambiguities are generally not explored so you'd think you're going to experience the clear demarcation of good and evil with that reliable catharsis of good heroically triumphing. But then that clarity is cleverly muddled and by the end you're no longer sure who your God is. "You want to sit in a theater and forget your troubles? Fuck you. Think of the shitte you'd do if you had unchecked power. Evil lives within us all. Deal with it fatso." God it's so good.

Watching this movie also made it clear why Heroes Season 1 was so good, since it stole the good stuff from the the tightly wound and perfectly executed graphic novel series that I assume Watchmen must have been. I mean, the whole moral ambiguity of superheroes and the Armageddon as a false cleansing of evil, Heroes obviously just ripped those ideas straight off. (I assume. Until I see something that predates Watchmen that Watchmen obviously ripped off.) And once Heroes couldn’t steal any more ideas the show became rudderless and the writers started grasping at straws with lame devices and ratings fell, etc.

I guess the point of this is well done to those of you who steal others great ideas and then get really rich from them. I can't wait to see the pirated version of Synecdoche on television in 20 years. I just hope that Charlie Kaufman gets the same executive producer credit and bundles of dough that Ricky Gervais did, otherwise I'm going to be pretty livid. So in conclusion, I'm reserving judgment on whether our society is headed into moral decay where good artistic ideas are perverted by profit driven men who think only of the material goods and shapely women their thievery will secure. U.S.A.? U.S.A.? U.S.A.?