Sigh!
How friggin' sad is it that I got more response to my "What's your opinion of Hogan going to TNA?" than I have in five-plus days of asking people what the best part of the 80s was?
Come on, I'd guess that 96% of the people I assume read this had never even heard of TNA. The fact that my one response was "What is TNA?" backs that up, but at least whoever it was who responded had the gumption to admit that. Now, I'm stuck assuming everybody (save one reader) who reads this knows exactly what I'm talking about when I talk about wrestling, meaning this blog will slowly, but surely sink into non-stop wrestling articles.
Come on, this is a survey about the 1980s. Everybody loves the 80s right? Come on, it was the era of Molly Ringwald, Ronald Reagan, Mr. T, Bill Cosby, Alf, Duran Duran and Boy George.
It was the era when we thought the Russians were morons for having troops in Afghanistan while Americans were landing troops in Grenada and Beirut, and planning to go to war with Libya, Iran, Russia, and any other country that looked at them funny.
It was the era when people she-bopped along to songs about masterbation and Paul Hardcastle proved you COULD make a dance tune out of the dialogue of a Vietnam War documentary. It was a time when every horror movie being made today was actually dreamed up.
Those were the days when we all assumed we'd die in a nuclear war within the year, and decided to make the fashions of the 70s look respectable by comparison.
I'm not sure what my point was there, so we'll move on.
So my folks and I switched cell phone providers recently, save that we still haven't gotten new cell phones. Here's the thing, there's exactly ONE half-way decent cell phone that my folks would be comfortable using, and despite them having the phone on display every time we go in, apparently they're out of stock across the entire universe.
See my folks are pretty picky when it comes to cell phones. They want one that they can actually use to make phone calls with, with decent sized buttons. They don't want to take photos or text or download MP3s or surf the Net or send e-mails or store every bit of information they have on it.
They want a phone...to make phone calls, and with relative ease. You wouldn't think that'd be such a difficult task.
I went to see "Pirate Radio" on Saturday night, which was a lot less of a hassle than I expected. First of all, my Dad and I went to Masonville and I was a little put off by the fact there was barely a parking spot to be had and there was a mass of people congregated around the entrance of the theatre.
We did find a parking spot and then found out that these people were en route out of the theatre but, rather than going home or anywhere else for that matter, they decided to just kinda hang around the entrance. (Maybe it's me but when I leave a theatre, I...you know...leave the theatre!!!)
The line-up to get tickets was almost non-existance, as most people were using the automated ticket dispenser thingy (see, modern technology is good for something!). However, once we got our tickets, we had to wade through what must have been about a couple of hundred people are just stationed outside the entrance to the individual theatres. I do see some sort of a semblance of a line, but Dad and I waded forward to the actual ticket-taking usher, where I expected we'd be told to trudge back to the end of the line.
Instead, he took our ticket and we made our way down the hallway to the theatres. (Later I realized the line or what passed for one...this was frickin' Masonville, after all, where people assume the signs for handicapped parking is actually code for "Hey dude! Walkin's for Losers! This spots for you!"...was for Twilight. )
So, despite what appeared to be a lot of roadblocks, my Dad and I made it in to see "Pirate Radio" and wonder of wonders, my Dad enjoyed it. (I liked it, too!) There's one scene where Philip Seymour Hoffman (who, despite what the trailer may suggest, isn't necessarily the star of this ensemble piece) talks about how these were the greatest days of their lives.
As we walked out of the theatre, my Dad turned to me and said that indeed the 60s were the best of times, especially when it came to the music and cars. I decided to let my Dad have his moment and not cynically discuss how the 60s also included Vietnam, the assassinations of both Robert and John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King and any number of Civil Rights leaders, segregation, the Cuban Missile Crisis, CIA wire-tapping, the drug-related deaths of most of the major rock superstars, Altamont, Charles Manson, etc, etc.
(And at least in our generation, politicians at least have the decency to lie about why their countries were becoming involved in cockamamy foreign excursions. Bush at least had the forethought and put in the effort to make up a lie about WMDs and ties between Hussein and Al-Qaeda. In the 60s, the U.S government just said "We're going to Vietnam!")
But while I would suggest about 5% of the movie has any ties to the reality of what happened on those pirate radio stations of the mid-60s, Pirate Radio is really enjoyable and yes, it's primarily because of the soundtrack, which of course I can't find anywhere in London now.
I think I now know why so many people shop on-line. Rather than drive all over to find out the item you want is either sold out, or not even sold in most stores, you can just surf to Amazon, Chapters or even the chain stores on-line sites and purchase it that way. Sure you can't browse as much and find other things you want but (a) that's one easy way to save money spent on impulse buys and (b) you're not spending time and gas driving around to umpteen different stories looking for the one item you went out for in the first place.
And speaking of the shopping experience, when I was in the mall looking for the soundtrack to Pirate Radio, I was walking around and heard that most dreadful of all sounds...the first notes of Christmas music in the mall. Yeah, doesn't matter what my situation, Christmas music always makes me cringe!
Just be thankful (and it is American thanksgiving soon, after all) I don't decide to publish my "alternate versions" of popular Christmas songs. (Hey, when your boss subjects you to a Christmas season's worth of a CD made up of 18 versions of Winter Wonderland, your mind does whatever it takes for self-preservation. Let's just say, as a wrestling fan, I toyed with that whole "you can do the job when you're in town" portion of the song!)
No comments:
Post a Comment