Archives for the month of: July, 2012

Ah, the good old days.  Back when movies were simpler, not so reliant on sensationalism and big budget effects.  Movies were more real then.  Romance was more natural  and horror was more true.  It truly was the golden age.  Today, all of our movies are so filled with trite cliches and totally unbelievable characters its a miracle that anyone goes to see them anymore.  What few of us realize, however, is that movies have always been ridiculous.

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The Graduate: a 1967 film, nominated for Best Picture, and currently residing at #17 on the American Film Institutes “100 Years, 100 Movies” list, recalling the greatest 100 films of all time.  It also has a love story more unbelievable than any Nicholas Sparks novel you can name (I say that because I can name none of them).  At the beginning of the film, Benjamin Braddock is at a graduation party celebrating his excellent 4 years at college.  He is then propositioned by his MILFy neighbor Mrs. Robinson, and the two engage in a long affair, and Benjamin gets to watch Mrs. Robinson take her stockings off multiple times.  When the affair finally ends, so does the logical part of the movie.

This is seriously most of the first half of the movie

Benjamin finally ends the affair when he meets Elaine Robinson, the daughter of Mrs. Cougar, and despite going on what is probably the worst first date in history, they immediately fall in love. Their first date consists of Benjamin picking her up, and then driving extremely recklessly to get to a strip club.  When Elaine gets upset about Ben’s awful courtsmanship, he does the right thing: explains that he’s only on the date in the first place because his parents forced him to go.  Then he forcibly kisses Elaine.  If you’re currently thinking, “My God, this woman should call the police, she’s being molested!” then you would probably be among the sane majority.  However, Elaine Robinson is not so logical and she is somehow cheered up by Ben’s chivalrous act of making her cry and then forcing himself upon her.  They then go out for burgers and talk.

That is the one and only date that the two ever go on, because before their second date, Benjamin decides to tell her about the affair he had with Mrs. Robinson.  Elaine is understandably quite upset by Ben’s fetish for people named Robinson and she kicks him out and then moves to Berkeley following the aftermath of the discovery.

If Ben could get Craig Robinson in on this, he’d be the happiest man alive

This would be the second logical place for their relationship to end, but Ben is quite persistent.  Despite the fact that they really only went on 1/2 of a date (since verbal abuse at a strip club it doesn’t count as an entire date), Ben announces to his parents that he’s going to Berkeley to marry Elaine.

He then gets to Berkeley, follows Elaine around for weeks at a time asking “So are we getting married today?” (an idea to which she’s surprisingly open) and even tries to piggyback on her date with another man.  In the first recorded instance since Neanderthals roamed the Earth, this constant pestering actually does cause Elaine to want to marry Ben, but she is unjustly withdrawn from school and pressed into marriage by her father, further adding to the unbelievability of this movie.

Still stubbornly refusing to accept that he might have to love a non-Robinson, Ben goes to her wedding, saves her from marrying some guy, and then beats down her family with a giant crucifix as they escape the chapel. And no, I did not make that last part up.  To the film’s credit, the two do seem to have a little bit of a reality check as they ride away from the bloodbath/wedding to their new life, but its really too little, too late for a love story that makes fairy tales look like a jaded world view.

Hopefully you enjoyed the first entry in what will likely be a long series of me ruining classic movies because I am a jerk.

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I’m sitting here on the night of July 4th listening to people blow things up all around me, and I had an epiphany: I don’t like fireworks.  Now, it’s quite possible that the reason for that is that I hate fun because I’m a curmudgeonly old man trapped in a handsome 19 year old’s body, but please, allow me to explain.  I don’t get any enjoyment out of fireworks because there’s no element of surprise.  You take them out of the box, they explode as advertised, and 10 minutes later you’ve essentially just blown up $30 of your money.  It has about as much shock value as watching the same movie over and over again 40 times a night, and yet we continually expect them to wow us.

In order to combat this utter lack of mystery that comes along with fireworks, I’ll be teaming up with several companies next year in order to promote my new product – Firettes!  In a promotion starting July 1, 2013, I will place a couple of cleverly disguised fireworks inside every pack of Marlboros and Camels.  Imagine the look on your friends face when he lights up what turns out to be a bottle rocket! Priceless…

America and I have a complicated relationship.  Here is an example:

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I’m always down for a good birthday bash, so I emailed America back with an RSVP for this apparently awesome party that he’s throwing.

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Then America responded

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When I saw this, I was a little worried.  I guess I shouldn’t be terribly surprised that there were gonna be a lot of old people at a guy’s 236th birthday, but he really didn’t make a very strong case for why it was gonna be cool.  I don’t own any flag-print apparel, so I was a little concerned I’d stand out like an adult at a One Direction concert if I wore my typical party attire, and based on my experience that would not end very well at all.  Also, the cuisine seemed like it was planned by a masochistic plumber.  I can only imagine the gastric nightmare that was about to sweep across the guest list.  But I still had a shimmer of hope, so I dug a little deeper just to see if this party might still be worth attending.

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I was now starting to get really skeptical about this supposedly awesome party.  It seemed like it would be pretty hard to dance with girls to the hits of Sousa, and I also didn’t really understand the 12 hour gap in activities he planned in.  Maybe he has bowel issues and needs a supersized bathroom break.  For a man who plans a meal of 400 sliders, I wouldn’t be overly surprised.  But the explosions seemed like they could quite possibly save the whole experience, so I kept going.

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At that, I knew it was gonna be a horrible party.  I’m not quite sure what America was thinking for this one, but sitting around listening to marching bands and watching other people blow stuff up is not exactly the most exciting way to celebrate a birthday ever.  He should get some strippers.  And fire them into the air on rockets.  Now there’s a party I’d go to!