So, Indiana Jones and the Impossible To Satisfy Expectations opens tomorrow, so perhaps a mediation on just what Dr. Jones and party has meant to me.
I oft attribute the misery of my twenties to the fact that niether the world or myself has turned out to be as intersting as I had hoped in my adolesence. Scratch that, the world is probably very interesting, am just not invited to the best parts of it for being such a dullard. In adolescence, I imagined my friends and I to be future revolutionaries who would change everything once we got the chance to, athough, this may not be the source of my disontent. While I found myself recently sitting alone in a diner, writng a letter to aforementioned estranged friends, longing for their companionship, it is probabaly not them who left me disappointed with reality, but my earnest reformist quality may ae served s a bridge of the obnoxiousness I learned before adolescense.
You see, I never forgave the world for not being as exciting as Raiders of the Lost Ark. When I was nine I believed I could play a catalyst to adventure by adopting a stoic disposition and acting if I expected an abrupt escalaton of events that never occured.
That's actually giving myself too much credit. I was denied the stoicism gene that my father posseses in spades, and could only commuinicate my interest in ROTLA through my natural blabbermouth quality, inserting forced references into most sentences. Upon arrrivng at my older brother Sean's college dorm room for a visit, bearing the gift of KFC, I offered him the food plus this qip,
"Raiders of the Lost Chicken, anyone?"
So yeah, I was born witty.
So anyway, my abilty to hang out in dorms was about as bad at 9 as it was at 18, when my parents left me alone with Sean for the afternoon, I had the rare opportunity to alienate people twice my age, something I still do now wth 50 year olds and will only stop doing in twenty five years when those twice my age are all centurians. Here's where the frisson of awkward really came into play: because I could only talk about one thing, ROTLA, my brother's chill Vermont, Phish fan friends placated me by feigning interest in the movie. Asked if I actually knew what Nazis were, responded
"Sure, they killed Jewish people."
And at that moment, a Jewish coed walked by and I was informed that it was in bad taste to mention such things. By the end of the day, because no one listens to blabber mouth kids, it was communicated tomy parents that I was omhow endorsing the nazi party. Now does this really make sense? I, Dr. Jones' most devout follower, had suddenly flipped to the other party? That's slander you fuckers, slander I say?
I got a stern taking to, cried myself to sleep, and leanred an important lesson: I should not talk lest I inadvedntly offen people on the deepest of levels. It's what keeps me obessessively private today, and has saved society a slew of bother since roughly 1992.
So yeah, I am realy excited to see Indiana Jones and the Franchise ofthe Bearded Bros now that I have attributed it some low level child hood trauma. Man, I must really think I am intereting to be posting this feckless shit. Maybe I'll write tomorrow about how Threes Company confused my sense of gender relations.
Still, I did not learn from that experience because it appears my ability to offend runs paraleel to the villains of the Indiana Jones series. Now that Dr. Jones must contend with the Soviets instead of Nazis, I, naturally, have updated who I choose to offend. Junstiyna, a charming Polish immmigrant I wait tables with, spent her first 11 years living under Soviet rule. I, in turn, often show up to work wearing a USSR t--shirt ( why do I own it? I dunno why do they sell them?) and procaliming myself to me of the Marxist persuasion. Justyna has not said anything, althogh i havebeen told lately that I "Dont have the fans" like a better socialzed (I'm a socialist, how can I be badly socialized? maybe 'adjusted' is a better word) person would. So thanks, Indiana Jones, whomever you fight, i subconsciously decide to offend those whom they opressed in real life.
Atleast I didn't meet any Hindues until I was 18 (Temple of Doom is a little racist toward th Indians) and had long dismissed The Last Crusade by the time my father became a Papal Knight, sort of like the Knight pf the crusades who guards all the cups a the en of that movie. Crusading knights were sent by the Pope, I think. Popes were like the Haliburton CEOs of The Crusades.
One upside, when I did finally make it to college, I totally identiied the scene in Rashomon that Raiders pays tribute to. and atlast I didn't spend 5 years making a shot for shot remake like these kids did.



Shit, that's acutaly really cool. Most of all for lack of anti semitism.

Speed Racer/Erick the mildly autistic gay dishwasher Reviewed

With Bound and The Matrix, the Wachowski brothers established themselves as innovative auters in the medium of film. With Speed Racer, they are just being dicks about it.
Apparently aiming to turn the childhood sensation of spinning around 100 times into something marketable, Speed Racer induced many yawns between me and my date and only deserves commendation for inspiring the weirdest fucking interactions with a coworker I can recall. Let me take you back to an innocent pre-Speed Racer era known as last Thursday.

Erick (the middle aged gay dishwasher at Pizza Hut who might have a touch of the Aspergers syndrome.) : Hey, did you hear about that movie that looks like Tron?

Yes! that's the most apt thing that can be said about Speed Racer, it's a movie that sort of looks like Tron, although it's actually much worse than that. Much like the latter Matrix films, the Wachowski's seem to still make good movies but lose them in editing as their egos will not sacrifice a single beloved shot. They've said the Matrix was the result of just using every idea they ever had in one film and, because they keep repeating this approach, the rules of the sophomore slump still haunt their senior feature.
Anyway, back to Erick.
I told Erick that I was going to quote him when I saw and reviewed Speed Racer but I think I would rather review the rest of our interaction. Upon learning I had a website, he suggested that I install a live web cam at either gay night club Styx or Deering Oaks park, which I suppose he thinks is a latenight hotspot for gay men. A half hour later, Erick was still keen on the subject, suggesting I write and shoot a gay porn. I should mention that Erick probably utters less than fifty words to anyone nightly, so these aren't the offerings of a natural extrovert, this is what he is saving his voice for. By the end of the night he was describing me a plot line for a character driven (gay) film he had been apparently been conceiving of for a while

"So there's this young guy, he moves to Portland from Skowhegan, he doesn't know anybody so he gets a job as a Barista...."

Since Erick is a dishwasher and I am a waiter, I have the gift of mobility while he is bound to a station. By which I mean, I can walk away when he creeps me out, the way people are always doing to me. So I never heard the graphic details of his proposed Gay boy from Skowhegan film and yet, almost 24 hours later, Erick had not missed a beat in his string of gay cinematic ambitions. He must have been up all night writing down new ideas to spring on me upon my return to tha Hut, and yet, I was not sold. I here by vow that this page will never be a forum for gay pornography, just overwrought reviews of stuff. So thank you Speed Racer (which I kind of liked but wish didn't exist because I am offended by its pomp and excess) you "look like Tron" and inspired the weirdest series of Gay ideas I have ever heard from a mildly autistic dishwasher.

College Reviewed

Didn't like it, took a really long time, lost most of the friends I made, developed a drinking problem ( would have happened anyway), was bored and frustrated the whole time, picked cake walk major and still could barely muster the effort.

That being said, my attitude may have been the problem.

It's over now!