A Case of the Mondays...

Ok,

I'm liking the whole 'I'll throw some vids up' thing for Mondays, so here goes:

-You know you're in Nashville when the whole audience is versed enough in guitar to applaud at all the difficult parts. Ladies and Gentlemen, the incomparable Chet Atkins.

-And another for the pickers out there. Note how perfect that slapback echo is. Sickness.

-God I love the 'net. I was looking for old WB cartoons. Here's someone's editing class homework. One of the best Looney Tunes shorts set to Radiohead.

-New Bionic Woman? From the guy who made Battlestar Galactica cool again. I'm thinking about it, but still not sure. Preview sure is cool, though.

-This weeks athlete worship: Barry Sanders. The flat-out greatest running back I'll ever see. He wasn't a threat in the short passing game (though he could have been), he wasn't specialized as an interior or exterior runner, he just found gaps and juked heads out of their shoes at an astounding rate. The most fun you could have watching football was watching Barry Sanders take it up the middle. Oh, and the old-school L.L. Cool J track is unbelievable with some of the names he drops.


Have a good week kids!

7-11 Update!

Hey all,

Just got off the phone with the local supervisor who oversees the store in question. He told me there is a new manager in place who is looking for ways to improve the store and according to him there has already been some 'turnover'. We talked for a few minutes about what happened; I let him know where the real concern of mine was as opposed to where I was just venting, and he addressed the issue of the so-called "time limit" and how it could've been handled reasonably by the staff on hand.

I will be receiving a gift card in the mail, the amount of which will more than compensate me for the time and trouble. They even made sure the gas I never received wasn't charged to my account. Thanks to Mr. 7-11 for taking the time and following up with me even after I found myself too busy to get back to him quickly.

The card is being sent to me tomorrow. Guess where I'm gonna cash it in?

Falwell, Fall Hard...

Before you see the wonderful tributes and all the forgiving that happens in America when anyone of note passes, here are a few words of wisdom from the now late Rev. Jerry Falwell:


__________________________________________________________________



“Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions”

“AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals; it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals”

“The idea that religion and politics don't mix was invented by the Devil to keep Christians from running their own country”

“If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being”

“I do not believe we can blame genetics for adultery, homosexuality, dishonesty and other character flaws"

“(re: 9/11 attacks) "...throwing God out of the public square, out of the schools, the abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked and when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad...I really believe that the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who try to secularize America...I point the thing in their face and say you helped this happen."

"I think the Moslem faith teaches hate."

"If I were president of the United States, I would include Moslems in
my presidency."

"Textbooks are Soviet propaganda."

"There's been a concerted effort to steal Christmas."

"You'll be riding along in an automobile. You'll be the driver perhaps.
You're a Christian. There'll be several people in the automobile with
you, maybe someone who is not a Christian.When the trumpet
sounds you and the other born-again believers in that automobile will
be instantly caught away -- you will disappear, leaving behind only
your clothes and physical things that cannot inherit eternal life. That
unsaved person or persons in the automobile will suddenly be
startled to find the car suddenly somewhere crashes.... Other cars on
the highway driven by believers will suddenly be out of control and
stark pandemonium will occur on ... every highway in the world
where Christians are caught away from the drivers wheel."


_______________________________________________________



Active imagination. I guess I have to give him that. It is a TRUE sin to
rejoice in anyone's suffering, but today I am happy that this sad
excuse of a man has finally left us alone. The old guard is finally
starting to die off. One day you're railing against the gays and the
liberals and the next day you're dead on the floor of your office.

There's your god, Reverend.

Radio Free Lynchburg.

Erin Esurance: Animated Spokesperson or Something More Sinister?

We've all seen them: Someone is involved in an inexplicable situation where they need car insurance immediately. They seem to be the same person every time, which raises questions about the man's driving ability. A dynamic, pink-haired woman comes out of nowhere to save the day by covering the man's ineptitude for less than other companies would.

They've met more than a dozen times, but seem to only rarely converse outside of discussing insurance needs.

They exist through different eras, yet all the while require car insurance.

Questions arise: Do they really know each other or not? When did they really first meet? How old is Erin Esurance (I swear to god that's her name)? What is her mission, really? And where does Crappy Driver Guy (here to be referred to as CDG) fit in?

These are not easy questions to answer. The truth could be more frightening than anything we could have ever imagined. I will attempt to establish a timeline and motivations for all parties involved, and I believe what you'll read here will shock you.

Part 1--When We First Met.

The first ad. It seems so innocent and meaningless now. A special agent of sorts is being pursued by three opponents, crashes a car dealership and procures a getaway car all the while extolling the virtues of online car insurance. We presume that this is the first meeting of Erin and CDG.

Perhaps we presume too much?

The facts are this: Observe how casual CDG is with Erin throughout. If a pink haired chick crashed through the ceiling of your work and demanded service you'd be a little taken back, wouldn't you? I would. It's almost as if he's been through this before. Almost as if he's expecting just this situation. Hmmm. Also, what happens after she bolts with the car? There are three dangerous people left alone with a civilian. By all logic this guy is as good as dead. But no, he lives on.

While I'm thinking about it, way to totally check out Erin's ass, CDG. Smooth. She totally felt him doing that.

So what can we can gather from this? Erin is an experienced and trained agent of whatever it is that she does. I'll tell you this: My mom is an insurance agent. My mom does not have skills like that. Erin Esurance is NOT an insurance agent. Not even a special insurance agent.

CDG and Erin are acquainted in some way. So when do they first meet? With all of the adventures Erin and CDG have had together (hmmm) what is continuity to them? What is their timeline? Let's take a little look.

The first ad we just saw seems to be the most contemporary. The only other ad that comes closer actually establishes her as having been interviewed by Space Ghost. Space Ghost Coast-To-Coast ran from 1994 to 2004, so this could be fairly recent. Now check the ad out.

Unbelievable. The woman just outed herself! Not only is the Esurance deal a cover (so that ISNT her real name!), but the Top Secret Special Investigations Unit? Wow! That must've pissed her bosses off something fierce. If I was running the show and my best agent went public like that, I don't know what I'd do. Maybe I'd just make them disappear. Maybe I'd bring them in and keep them to train new agents.

Maybe I'd use her to experiment with time travel technology in an effort to alter history to ensure the success and wealth of my dummy insurance corporation (dum Dum DUMMMMMMMMM).

And Esurance isn't the only company with these ideas. Check this out. Erin is used to hunt down and eliminate other insurance companies before they can establish dominance. And who's there to pick her up when the job is done in mid-nineteenth century America? On a motorcycle, no less? Our guy CDG.

Part 2: Who IS Erin Esurance, and How Did She Come to Be?

Maybe she was just another runaway, lost, on the streets. Looking for direction. Maybe she was an upstart special forces servicewoman who got noticed by the right people. Whatever the case, Erin was thrust into a world of orders and missions and danger and insurance.

Where does a young woman learn to move and battle various robots the way she does? Apparently, starting at some point in the 70's (note the old-school ABC style yellow sportsjacket, reminiscent of the late Howard Cosell of Monday Night Football), the TSSIU started her training by forcing her to compete, on her own, in various team sports against large combat trained robots.

This would serve to put Erin in her 30's at least, but consider this: If TSSIU is sending her around in time, it's possible that her training could have been accomplished in a matter of days. That a younger Erin could have gone through 'years' of training and then come back mere seconds later, then sent to the future seconds after that. CDG's calm in the face of danger, his poise and apparent ability all point to being a classic black-ops man. Bouncing through time himself, he could be as old as 60-65 but having 'cut through' most of the past 3-4 decades, could appear to be in his 30's himself.

Also, looking at those commercials, do you notice a pattern here? I don't have video of the 'Basketball' ad, but that is another 70's era example of Erin playing one-on-whatever against killer robots. Every time, CDG is in a different role; play-by-play man, quarterback, coach. But how different of a role is he really playing?

CDG isn't just some dick walking around crashing cars and being clueless about comparing auto coverage...
...he trained Erin for the TSSIU. He's her mentor. Her handler. Her partner.

Her partner? Yes; her partner in the field, and maybe more...

Part 3: The Truth.

The truth is out there. Actually, it's right here. THIS is them in action in their real lives, their TSSIU work. Eliminating world threats and promoting the dummy insurance company all at the same time. His name is Eric! Wow! I wonder what happened to agents Edward, Emily, Eamonn, Elise, and Eldrich. So close in the field, so adept and efficient, I'm sure their bosses are happy. But what about them?

Is their a chance that either of them could live outside of this world in a normal way and be happy? Having gone through everything together, could they just go home, take a shower and call it a day, living a suburban existence like any other young couple? I think so. In fact, I know so.

Shocking, no? Blatantly living out in the open, battling foes in the kitchen with little disregard for neighborhood noise restrictions (or prying eyes, for that matter). Yet she obviously keeps her life a secret from her mom on the phone. Looking back, it could explain the surfing commercial (look at how coy they are with each other) and the skiing incident.

They were on vacation. Huh.

Well, to wrap things up, the life of a secret agent is perilous at best and deadly at worst. For anyone to come through such a career and be able to enjoy their lives says something about that person. To share that life with someone else says something about them as well. From public gaffes to saving the world to making sure her man is covered after his latest fender bender, Erin has had a lot on her plate in her life. Here's to those crazy kids. Good for them.

The only danger is Esurance itself. It has an agenda and dangerous, highly-trained killers at its disposal. The real threat isn't a girl with pink hair, it's here.

Good night, and good luck.

7-11 Steals My Money

Really. They did.

I stop by the local (and I mean local, it's literally right across the street) 7-11 to pump some gas, maybe grab a bite and if they have a spare roll of quarters buy one so I can do my laundry. I've been up since 6 this morning for jury duty and 6 AM is something that I simply do not do...

Ah, screw it. Here is the actual email I sent to 7-11 regarding my visit:

Hello,

I arrived at the aforementioned store to put some gas in my truck and maybe grab something to eat. I walked in to pre-pay and make whatever selections I was going to. When I got to the counter, the gentleman at the register was VERY limited in his communication, but he rang up my purchases including my $15 of gas that I was about to pump and all was well. As I walked out to the pump I remembered that I wanted to ask if there were any spare rolls of quarters available that I might purchase with the $10 bill in my wallet so that I might get my laundry done.

Walking back inside, the registers of both the gentleman and his co-worker were busy, with 3-4 person lines at each. I waited for one of the lines to clear up and asked the man if he had any rolls of quarters. This seemed to be beyond the man's understanding of English, so I asked the Asian woman working with him. She immediately started to complain about my request but seemed to be opening a drawer to get me a roll. I told her if it was a problem for her I could get the roll somewhere else, no big deal. There are plenty of places for me to go in this area. She continued to bitch me out over quarters, saying (from what I could gather) that in the future she could do a dollar or two, but to go to the bank if I wanted a whole roll. As if at this point I wanted to ever come back to this 7-11 and ask for change again. I told her never mind, I would go get them somewhere else and thanks anyway.

I once again headed outside to pump my gas and be on my way, but the pump seems to not have registered my payment. I trekked BACK inside and, showing my receipt asked that the pump be turned on.

The Asian woman jumped down my throat yelling something about(after having heard it about a dozen times) "too long" and "read receipt". I cannot write out phonetically how "read receipt" sounded, but I can tell you I heard it early and often. Apparently, there is a time limit on pre-paid pump usage, and our joyful discussion of quarters took up all of it.

I noted that I came back inside, waited in line instead of being a dick, asked politely about the quarters and then let her off the hook for them, understanding how it can be a pain in the ass (I work retail myself).

"Read receipt"

Ok, but the struggle to have any conversation with you led to this whole thing taking longer than needed.

"Read receipt!"

You can hit a button right now and everyone walks away relatively happy.

"Read receipt!"

I will admit at this point asking in a less than friendly manner for my money back. Not all of it, just the $15 I had now spent on what used to be the gas that now WASN'T in my truck.

You can guess what response that got.

I drove from this 7-11 to an Exxon up the road, spent ANOTHER $20 (thankfully actually receiving gas this time) and then hit a grocery store on the way back for the quarters.

Now, I am not proud of having lost my temper. I am not proud of some of the language I used (the totality of which was limited to "Then give me my fucking money back" and "Fuck this, keep your receipt"). But you have no idea how poor this 7-11 location is. How poor the service is and has always been, how there is NO alcohol on sale at all here. How long waits can be at the counter while employees chat up their friends while ringing up obscene amounts of lottery tickets or just go about doing whatever it is they happen to be doing around the store at the time.

This location only stays open because of its location. It is convenient to too many people in this area NOT to make money, not matter WHO is working there. I don't need my 7-11 people to be fluent, I don't need to have conversations with them. I just need to be able to say a polite hello, get on with my business and expect reasonable customer service.
I mentioned before I work in retail. I deal with customers every day, some of whom are rude, aggressive, condescending and just plain stupid. I have never treated a customer request in the manner that this woman did with me today. All she had to say was "I can't, sorry". That's all. Instead I'm out $15 ($35 if you count the gas I actually ended up with at the Exxon).

As a long-time consumer at your various locations I am BEGGING you to get rid of every single human being who works at location (7-11 across the street) and make it a pleasant experience for our community for once. I'd also like my $15, but I threw the receipt on the counter on my way out so I'm under no delusions there. Also, if you could bring back the banana Slurpee that would rock, as that was the tastiest of all the Slurpees.

Thank you and please consider firing everyone at location (7-11 across the street).

Then I signed my name.

Really, though. I got robbed by a tiny middle-aged Asian woman. Are you kidding me? This is what I did my civic duty as a juror for? Fuck that. That was some unnecessary bullshit right fucking there. I felt like Michael Douglas in Falling Down; you know, when he gets to McDonalds 5 minutes late for breakfast and they have egg mcmuffins right there and they won't let him order one? Yeah, kinda like that.

Esurance girl tomorrow. I'm not in the mood anymore.

Bergle At the Movies: 29 Palms

G'Day,

So, I was up last night (as always) and I see that Sundance is running 29 Palms. For whatever reason, I remember wanting to see it once upon a time, so I say 'fuck it' and decide I'll stay up a little later than I was planning on. Big mistake....

29 Palms (2003)
Directed by Bruno Dumont
Starring: David Wissak, Katia Golubeva

First and foremost, this is an art film. I say this not to scream from the rafters "Hey everyone, I watch art films!" but to set the context of what I'm about to describe. According to some, 29 Palms is an intense, if empty exploration of life and 'love' in the post 9/11 era. David (David Wissak) is a filmmaker or photographer (we never really find out) who goes to the town of 29 Palms with his Russian girlfriend Katia (Katia Golubeva), who appears to be emotionally unstable and whose French is as incomprehensible as David's is just plain bad.

The movie begins on the highways outside L.A.; David driving his bright, sparkling red H2 while Katia lies in the backseat. David stares intently at maps and takes a cell phone call during this sequence before pulling off the highway to gas up the 'truck'. They continue on, arrive at their hotel, fuck in the pool (violently, I might add; I wasn't sure for a moment if this was a rape scene or not--a thought I would come to regret...) and go to a local chinese restaurant where they split an appetizer and main course, pissing off the owner/waitress.

This was the first 30 minutes of the movie.

To say Dumont's style here is 'paced' is to be very, very kind. Like Mother Theresa kind. The only scene out of the beginning that is redeeming at all, in fact the only scene in the entire movie that rings true and is relateable in any way is between the gas station and the hotel. David, driving along, alternately staring off into the desert and not, is asked by Katia what he is thinking in that way that only girlfriends do. David of course says he isn't thinking about anything (and in his defense I have to say, I was watching and he didn't appear to be thinking about anything during the movie at all) which leads to Katia asking again and again because as a woman she can't believe that and David of course ends up getting angry because she won't let it go. It is so uncomfortable and tense and real and dead on it's scary. Of course the next time we see them they're in the motel pool and he's shoving his cock into her. Nice.

The next 75 minutes is a thrill ride that take us from harsh, barely-above-animalistic sex (not a dealbreaker, mind you) to long walks through the Joshua Tree National Park where David is 'scouting a shoot' to their hotel room. Lather, rinse, repeat. The only moments of anything are David straining under he and Katia's communication problem while they have ice cream, leading to the line of the movie...

David: "You know something? I'd like to have some conversations that have some logic to them, because sometimes you say one thing and then you say another thing and it's completely dysfunctional!"

Right on, brother. I've been waiting for over an hour for something like that. Of course, Katia pauses and then says "J'taime". Like that means anyfuckingthing at this point. The only other moment comes soon after. Katia locks herself in the bathroom (for reasons we never learn--lot of that in this movie) and David, frustrated with living with this potentially bipolar girl throws her out and locks the door behind her. In the resulting scene we see Katia pacing back and forth in front of the motel, the whole time running and hiding every time a car drives by, and not in the normal 'I don't want anyone to see me' way. She seems delusional (schizophrenic?) and when David comes out to bring her back inside, it literally takes them physically fighting in the middle of the street to bring her back to anything resembling a rational human being, and that's still a far way off for her.

That brings us to the conclusion of 29 Palms. The whole movie seems to be a poem about alienation in the modern world, but there's a slow build happening that speeds up dramatically with about 15 minutes left in the film. SPOILER ALERT, EVEN THOUGH IF YOU WANT TO PUT YOURSELF THROUGH THIS MOVIE IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU PROBABLY ALREADY KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT: On yet another trek through the park, a large pickup truck rams the H2, pushing it to a stop. Three men hop out, dragging David and Katia out, throwing him to the ground and stripping her naked. As one man holds Katia around her neck another beats David with a bat, and the third guy sodomizes him while Katia is forced to watch. The scene ends as Katia, naked and beaten, crawls toward a severely injured and sobbing David over the course of minutes. Back at the motel, Katia insists they call the police to which David says no. Katia goes to pick up food, and when she comes back David bursts from the bathroom with a crudely shaved head and a knife, pins Katia down and stabs her to death in a brutal (and brutally depicted) manner. The movie ends with a police officer finding David dead in the desert mere feet from the ubiquitous H2.

Last night when the movie ended I was in a rage. I'd sat through two hours of the most vapid, boring, go-nowhere cinema I'd ever seen and my reward was the leading man getting fucked in the ass and going on to commit a horrible murder. That's the word actually: horror. This was the most horrible movie I've ever seen in my life. Not necessarily horrible as in bad, but horrible as in 'that's a horrible thing to have happened'. I crawled into bed after taking a moment to take everything in, and told the Gergle that "I just watched the worst movie ever made". I was angry, hurt, a little sick to my stomach even. I felt cheated, insulted, even a little violated (then again, in the face of what happened to poor David, I kept some perspective there). I wanted to write a review right then and there and go nuclear on the whole thing, this whole fucking worthless movie and director and his whole little hijack plan and his minimalist sensibilities. But it was already late and I thought it might do me some good to take the night to 'come down' from the experience. So here goes:

Dumont is a man whose philosophies come down to ideas like "We can fuck and fuck but never merge" and "Sex is death". His two previous movies to 29 Palms were set in remote parts of France, and from what I've heard are much better in terms of character, plot and...well, I guess everything. 29 Palms was Dumont's first time filming in America, and in many ways it shows. The man seems to have such hate for this country, or at least what he perceives this country to be. His character of choice (David) is a disheveled hipster dick who drives a huge gas-guzzling SUV through L.A. and then takes it out to the desert (presumably for the first time) and off-roading (poorly) in this vehicle that in reality only gives the illusion of off-road performance and is simply a Suburban with a different body welded to it. His French is worse than Katia's English (that's saying something) and he seems to have no sense of love outside of throwing himself into whichever of Katia's holes is most convenient and howling like an ape while doing so. I've read some takes on the movie that state that Dumont's point here is an examination of society after 9/11, and what happens after such a devastating event. This is understandable and somewhat provocative, but falls flat in the face of Dumont's complete lack of experience and understanding when it comes to America itself. In fact, his portrayal of Americans and American life serve only to land him directly in his own unfortunate stereotype: the condescending, head-up-his-own-ass, more ennui-than-thou Arty French Guy. Which is sad, since Dumont is obviously an intelligent man with something to say, all of which is wasted with his juvenile obsession with turn-on-a-dime sex and violence.

Looking at it now, however, 29 Palms has a thing or two that work in its favor. The first is the great "What are you thinking?" scene, although anyone who has ever been in a relationship could make that scene happen. The real thing that is great about the movie, and what should be the star, is the desert itself. The cinematography is out of this world beautiful. Dumont's style of directing leads to long shots with the camera not moving at all. There are many such shots in the movie with the H2 approaching from the horizon, or David and Katia walking away through the park. One scene with David and Katia on a rocky cliff is particularly beautiful. Unfortunately it all gets drowned out by the madness happening throughout.

Dumont's real vision with 29 Palms seems to be that of a deconstructed horror film, stripping away everything that isn't essential and leaving behind only characters, tension, dread and horror itself. It is an interesting idea but in this case seems to be too high a climb for the view. It struck me last night almost as if I'd ordered a deconstructed omelette only to realize too late that I was getting two scrambled eggs, a slice of cheese, a slice of bacon and being charged $30 for the privilege of the experience.

I've now come down from the initial shock of 29 Palms and have decided that it's not the worst movie I've ever seen, and the cinematography alone keeps it far from being the worst movie ever made. The concept and structure are interesting ideas, and the visceral experiences affect you as they are intended. Any movie that can bring out the range of emotions that this did must have hit its mark on some level. But I think that might be the problem: for all of Dumont's reasoning, for all of his effort to make his directing 'transparent' in the end it doesn't mean much of anything. The star of 29 Palms is the experience itself. The empty, meaningless experience. It is only a movie in the strictest sense, with flaws as basic as having poor characters with no history, reference, hopes or personalities to care about. There is no story to speak of. It is almost painful to watch even before the terrible events of the last 15 minutes.

As an experiment 29 Palms finds its only chance at redemption. In fact, the only way it can really be viewed is as an experiment in filmmaking. The minimalist, deconstructionist style on display here does not allow for real character development or plot movement. It does not allow for any of the things you expect from every other horror film you've ever seen. It only allows for the banality of life between two not particularly likeable people before something terrible happens to them for no goddamn reason at all. Dumont needs to stop justifying 29 Palms as a study of America post-9/11. If he wants to study that event and its effects, he can watch the fucking news footage from that day and then go fuck himself. We (I mean us in DC, NY and PA) saw it first-hand and don't need anyone reminding us of those feelings. We were there Bruno, thanks anyway. Dumont also needs to keeps his views of 29 Palms as a study of human aggression and natural inclination toward violence to rich-people artiste-chic party discussions. A view of humanity so coldly, horribly cynical with no room for compassion or caring only serves to take away from the pure experiment in horror that his movie is.

I guess that's the point. 29 Palms is as bad a movie as it is a good experiment in boiling down a genre of film and presenting its vital elements in all their pulsating, bloody glory. I abhor Dumont's justifications and explanations for making this 'story', for there is no story. But I readily admit that I can think of no one else who could direct such a movie without succumbing to the temptation to make a character sympathetic, to punch up a scene, to make David and Katia have a truly heartfelt conversation over dinner. His desire to make himself transparent as a director allowed him to make a film of pure horror without even an ounce of any unnecessary element.

I cannot in any way recommend that anybody see this movie. Then again, I can't really stop you can I? If you do decide to watch it, give yourself time to recover--you will need it. Try not to watch it as you would any other movie, because it is not. If you have two hours to waste on 29 Palms, you will probably either hate it with a passion, find some meaning in it, or come to accept it as I have as a very well shot piece of experimental film. For the rest of us I recommend Hitchcock's Rear Window with Jimmy Stewart and the beautiful Grace Kelly, which is everything a horror movie should be.

Coming tomorrow--My expose on the Esurance girl. Be there!

Monday Pick-Me-Ups

Hey kids,

I HATE the beginning of the week. It's funny, we should really hate the end of a week, but anyway...I usually need to find something to give me a smile and get me going, and I've got a good one for you this Monday.

A little Wolfman Jack, some Jerry Reed, and--classic.

A little more Jerry Reed; this time with Chet Atkins.

Since Primus covered Amos Moses, I figure a little Tommy wouldn't hurt either.


Coming soon:
-My Wonky Finger

-The E-surance Girl--What the Fuck? A Full Investigation

See you soon.