Who's the Pussy?!?

Memorial day weekend ended unceremoniously with Mr. Purpose here agreeing to watch The Notebook. The Notebook? Jim Rockford reading to the Director's mom a story about stuff that didn't happen. Wait, that's my theory. I could not enjoy this movie. Before I get into that, just where the fuck is the Rockford Files remake movie. Another summer is coming and still no Rockford Files Movie? But there's a Dallas remake in the works? Fuck you Hollywood. Fuck you in all three Os.

Meanwhile back at the review of The Notebook. It's a bunch of flat characters shifted around very familiar Romantic territory (Titanic but shorter and less meaningful). It's the kind of love story with which I just cannot connect. And I connected with the love story that was MAD ABOUT YOU. That's right, I'm not a tough room. My heartstrings get pulled real easy and I love the songs they sing. However, this goddamn notebook thing is a complete fantasy. That's why I think I can defend the film on an artistic level.

First of all this is a movie about a book and reading. Adapted from a book largely about the power of reading. That's a really tough conceit. And I've read books. Books I didn't have to read. Unfortunately, I'm not compelled to read.

Something I always remember from college is that the presence of literature within literature is a very important concept which should be understood as a literary sign post. It's a strip bar huge pink neon flashing sign that reads: "This is fiction. This is a construct. Start drawing parallels between how the characters react to the literature and how you are reacting to this literature."

The entire love story with Noah and young Allie, is so sugary sweet and almost unbearably without conflict. Fortunately, that's just like real people. Within the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, we're always the unmitigated hero or the victim of forces we cannot possibly control. We lie to ourselves about ourselves all the time, it's partially responsible for making our lives tolerable. We later find out that The Notebook that Jim Rockford reads was written by dementia lady, presumably in a moment of lucidity. So "The Notebook", the object not the title, is literally a story she tells herself about herself through the specter of James Garner.

So I'm not a Reader. I like books structured mostly like my favorite movies. The Matrix, Evil Dead (all of em), SuperTroopers, and 9 to 5. And I'll admit those are not the most intelligent films ever burned to celluloid. Ladies, please, before you put us in a diabetic coma and/or existential crisis, please for the love of God and Oprah, consider the film which is the motherfucking blueprint for this genre. Of course I'm talking about Love Story. She's a ball breaker and you love her for it. He's an oaf and emotionally immature, but you love him for it. The Supporting cast is absolutely charming. And the score is possibly the most extraordinary character.

My advice to every man who was forced to watch The Notebook goes thusly:
1> Clandestinely procure a copy of Love Story.
2> Tie your chick to a chair and prop her eyelids open with toothpicks.
3> Press play.
4> Yell randomly throughout the film, "See, it doesn't have to be absolutely fucking retarded!"
5> Repeat as necessary.

Another decent podcast has fallen victim to the podshow machine. American Cliche is always worthwhile. Will it be tolerable peppered with Go Daddy and Earthlink ads? Uncertainty abounds here at Raging Titter Headquarters. Sure podshow has its "make advertising not suck or some other such shite" contest happening as I type. The idea seems sound enough and I'll admit I'm intrigued. That's not the problem. The concrete problem I've got with podshow absorbing every podcast is that I hear the same ads over and over and over. If podcasting in general and podshow in particular insist on infecting podcasts with advertising then let's diversify the advertising a wee bit. American Cliche brought to you by American Eagle Outfitters. Squadcast brought to you by Chipotle and Xbox. Pacific Coast Hellway brought to you by Vaseline brand petroleum jelly. Enjoy that Vaseline site. There's almost a tit!

***Out of Touch Music Review***
1987's Kick by INXS
Sometimes you just have to hear Guns in the Sky.