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.