So I watched 2001:A Space Odyssey for the first time yesterday.
Surprised?
I know I was.
A couple of months back, I ran across a list of the 20 most important films. Films like Casablanca and Citizen Cane. Films by Kirosowa and Antonioni. I was shocked at how few of them I recognized, let alone seen, so I queued them up on my Netflix and summarily forgot about them.
Yet as I was reading the list , I came across several that I should absolutely have seen and for whatever reason, just hadn't.
I won't share with you all of them, but most shocking was that I had never seen Kubrick's Space Odyssey
I'd seen pieces.
I got all of the references. I knew who HAL was and why he wouldn't open the pod bay doors, but I'd never sat still for the entire three hours and watch the damn thing.
And now that's done.
And I will never have to do it again.
I never had to do it in the first place, but one has to do something in between naps.
The movie did, however, give me a lot of time to think. A lot of time to ponder each scene. To take in everything from the direction of the narrative to the hand stitching on the leather seats in the passenger section of PanAm's flight to the moon.
More of a painting than a film. A symphony of space and time about space and time. Kudos to Kubrick for making space as boring as watching me typing this paragraph and then staring off into space and sipping my tea as I wait for the next paragraph to come along.
And then be enthralled when the A/C clicks on.
Way to go A/C!
But what'll happen when the temperature reaches the optimum level?
I can hear it winding down now.
Soon the fan will shut off.
and all that will be left of my experience will be the sound of Calvin killing foes with his wooden sword two doors down and the hum of the refrigerator.
The slight sticky feeling of my bare feet on linoleum and the metallic aftertaste of an over extracted Chinese oolong.
This scene needs more half naked girls and laser beams.
And yet, having experienced one of Kubrick's masterpieces, I kind of wonder if I need to experience any of the other movies that I haven't seen and probably should have.
I mean, we all have lists. Lists of chores, books to read, movies to watch, children to feed. We have our dream lists and our bucket lists and our lists that will make us happy and lists that will make us successful. We have people we have to call, letters to write, emails to send, and pages to like.
We have lists of things that we should stop doing along with lists of things we did stop doing but would secretly start doing again in a heart beat given half the chance.
Smoking, I miss smoking.
God how I miss smoking.
I won't watch Mad Men, even though it sits on the top of the list of TV shows I should watch if and when I watch TV, because I can't sit still and watch people enjoy their cigarettes.
And I do have my tea after all.
So I've got that going for me.
So who's gonna know if I never actually watched "The Seven Samurai?" or the spaghetti remake "The Wild Bunch"?
I did see "The Three Amigos" so I've got all the plot points I need.
And I'll never forget Ernest Borgnine in "The Black Hole" so my references will check out if anyone ever needs me to pass a test.
I know you can't have Pixar without Star Wars and you can't have Star Wars without Howard Hughes, but I don't need to see "Hells Angels" to enjoy a good X-Wing fight.
And doesn't this line of reasoning include all of pop culture?
Yes.
and No.
I think you do need the Beatles.
But do you need the Rolling Stones?
You absolutely need the Count of Monte Cristo, but you can die just as peacefully without the Man in the Iron Mask.
Hamlet's a must, but the Tempest can rot in eternity with the freshman english teacher that made me read it.
So there you have it.
What pop culture necessity can you live without?
I'll await your answer whilst sipping my tea.
Friday Five: Because boys are easier
Got some fun response from yesterday's post.
It was one of those last minute things as I was staring into space trying to think of something witty to say when Joann, from out of somewhere, asked if we would be just as happy if we had had girls instead of boys.
I didn't pause for a second.
Nope.
And I don't know if she was more hurt by the fact that I was too curt or too cold or if I was being dismissive, but she shot right back at me with "You can't possibly know that!" as if she was worried that I had already given the matter extensive thought, and had come to the right conclusion years ago.
Which I have.
And I did.
The "What if" scenario is a popular topic in my marriage as I'm sure it is in yours, or will be when, and the situational fantasy of having had girls instead of boys comes up after almost every commercial. I myself have written about it several times, since the theme is ripe for classless one liners, and is a wishing-well as deep as race relations and airplane food.
Yet, as I was in the shower this morning, it occurred to me that we couldn't possibly love our children less (yes we can, but that's for another post) and parenting no matter what the circumstances is the impossible scenario where no matter what you do, you will have done it wrong.
So why boys over girls?
Simple.
Boys are just a little easier.
and here's five reasons why:
1. Boys don't need clothes.
Yes, of course they need clothes, but look what happens in the first six months. If you have a girl, you are showered with all kinds of cute outfits. Dresses, shoes, bonnets. All stuff that will be worn once, if ever, and finish out the rest of eternity in a plastic wardrobe bin in the garage. If you have a boy, you are showered with diapers, formula, onesies, and a mother load of butt wipes and hand-sanitizers. Things you will need in perpetuity.
2. Boys don't cry.
Ridiculous. Of course boys cry. If they are anything like my boys, they cry all the time. All. The. Time.
But when my boys start to cry, I can walk out onto the base ball field and say things like "Are you crying? Really? Are you really crying? Fine! Why don't you just cry your little heart out? The rest of us will just stop and wait and watch you cry until you decide to grow a pair of testicles and we can get on with the game." and then storm back into the dugout. Can't say that to girls. Mostly because they don't have testicles.
3. Boys have testicles.
Much easier to keep clean.
4. Boys grow up to be . . . well . . . boys.
Their stuff gets bigger, faster, louder and they might take on a few essential skills, but once you've gotten used to the dirt, the smell, and things breaking all the time, you're good to go. Girls, however, grow up to be teenagers, then ladies, then women. One more terrible stage after another. You will never know who and or what is going on.
5. I love my boys.
Oh, I'm sure if they were girls, I would love those just as much,
but not really.
It was one of those last minute things as I was staring into space trying to think of something witty to say when Joann, from out of somewhere, asked if we would be just as happy if we had had girls instead of boys.
I didn't pause for a second.
Nope.
And I don't know if she was more hurt by the fact that I was too curt or too cold or if I was being dismissive, but she shot right back at me with "You can't possibly know that!" as if she was worried that I had already given the matter extensive thought, and had come to the right conclusion years ago.
Which I have.
And I did.
The "What if" scenario is a popular topic in my marriage as I'm sure it is in yours, or will be when, and the situational fantasy of having had girls instead of boys comes up after almost every commercial. I myself have written about it several times, since the theme is ripe for classless one liners, and is a wishing-well as deep as race relations and airplane food.
Yet, as I was in the shower this morning, it occurred to me that we couldn't possibly love our children less (yes we can, but that's for another post) and parenting no matter what the circumstances is the impossible scenario where no matter what you do, you will have done it wrong.
So why boys over girls?
Simple.
Boys are just a little easier.
and here's five reasons why:
1. Boys don't need clothes.
Yes, of course they need clothes, but look what happens in the first six months. If you have a girl, you are showered with all kinds of cute outfits. Dresses, shoes, bonnets. All stuff that will be worn once, if ever, and finish out the rest of eternity in a plastic wardrobe bin in the garage. If you have a boy, you are showered with diapers, formula, onesies, and a mother load of butt wipes and hand-sanitizers. Things you will need in perpetuity.
2. Boys don't cry.
Ridiculous. Of course boys cry. If they are anything like my boys, they cry all the time. All. The. Time.
But when my boys start to cry, I can walk out onto the base ball field and say things like "Are you crying? Really? Are you really crying? Fine! Why don't you just cry your little heart out? The rest of us will just stop and wait and watch you cry until you decide to grow a pair of testicles and we can get on with the game." and then storm back into the dugout. Can't say that to girls. Mostly because they don't have testicles.
3. Boys have testicles.
Much easier to keep clean.
4. Boys grow up to be . . . well . . . boys.
Their stuff gets bigger, faster, louder and they might take on a few essential skills, but once you've gotten used to the dirt, the smell, and things breaking all the time, you're good to go. Girls, however, grow up to be teenagers, then ladies, then women. One more terrible stage after another. You will never know who and or what is going on.
5. I love my boys.
Oh, I'm sure if they were girls, I would love those just as much,
but not really.
Snack it up
Wait dad? Can you make me a snack plate?
Sure thing.
Makes and delivers.
Wait dad?
Yes?
Did I say anything about cheese?
Sure thing.
Makes and delivers.
Wait dad?
Yes?
Did I say anything about cheese?
F-Bomb
Wait Dad?
Hmm?
Can you go to jail for saying a bad word?
Not in this country.
Cause today, a fifth grader, was singing "We Will Rock You" but instead of saying "Rock" he said "We Will, We Will, Eff You."
Very funny, but you know you're too smart to use those words, right?
Uh huh.
Wait dad?
Yes?
Is it better to say "The Eff word" or to say "Bleep" like they do on TV?
It's best not to use either, but if you do have to make mention of a bad word, then just say "A Bad Word."
Kay.
Do you know who recorded that song?
No.
A band called Queen.
Oh.
And the band had a lead singer named Freddie Mercury, and the guitar player, Brian May used a silver coin instead of a guitar pick.
Oh . . . wait dad?
Yes?
Where's mom?
Its no secret that I can get rather curse wordy when the spirit moves me. If you have a delicate constitution, its best not to be riding shot gun when I'm merging onto traffic and you probably don't want to read some of my earlier posts.
I've been toning it down a bit on paper, but out loud, out loud, I've been getting a little carried away.
There's no doubt that Calvin's little ears have resonated with the sound of his own father spewing the kind of sonic filth one might hear at a Dead Kennedy's reunion tour. So he's far more world weary than his deceiving little doe-eyed face would have you believe.
But he is only seven. And I should set a better example.
I don't remember my parents swearing much, so I don't really know when I adopted a sailor's vocabulary, but it was most likely due to the music I listened to and the books I read and the people I hung out with.
Suburban lower middle class white kids sure know how to talk hard.
I do remember dropping the F-Bomb when my paternal grandmother was in the room, but I immediately apologized and changed the subject.
Sometimes I wonder if other languages are as rich in dirty expressions as the english one is. Or if they are as versatile. To be a poet in one breath and a pimp in another.
Quite a mean little feat if you ask me.
Yet I think its time to start being a little more wary of the language I use around my children, and around the other people that have to share a room with me.
Unless,
Unless you are in my car.
Then all bets are off.
Hmm?
Can you go to jail for saying a bad word?
Not in this country.
Cause today, a fifth grader, was singing "We Will Rock You" but instead of saying "Rock" he said "We Will, We Will, Eff You."
Very funny, but you know you're too smart to use those words, right?
Uh huh.
Wait dad?
Yes?
Is it better to say "The Eff word" or to say "Bleep" like they do on TV?
It's best not to use either, but if you do have to make mention of a bad word, then just say "A Bad Word."
Kay.
Do you know who recorded that song?
No.
A band called Queen.
Oh.
And the band had a lead singer named Freddie Mercury, and the guitar player, Brian May used a silver coin instead of a guitar pick.
Oh . . . wait dad?
Yes?
Where's mom?
Its no secret that I can get rather curse wordy when the spirit moves me. If you have a delicate constitution, its best not to be riding shot gun when I'm merging onto traffic and you probably don't want to read some of my earlier posts.
I've been toning it down a bit on paper, but out loud, out loud, I've been getting a little carried away.
There's no doubt that Calvin's little ears have resonated with the sound of his own father spewing the kind of sonic filth one might hear at a Dead Kennedy's reunion tour. So he's far more world weary than his deceiving little doe-eyed face would have you believe.
But he is only seven. And I should set a better example.
I don't remember my parents swearing much, so I don't really know when I adopted a sailor's vocabulary, but it was most likely due to the music I listened to and the books I read and the people I hung out with.
Suburban lower middle class white kids sure know how to talk hard.
I do remember dropping the F-Bomb when my paternal grandmother was in the room, but I immediately apologized and changed the subject.
Sometimes I wonder if other languages are as rich in dirty expressions as the english one is. Or if they are as versatile. To be a poet in one breath and a pimp in another.
Quite a mean little feat if you ask me.
Yet I think its time to start being a little more wary of the language I use around my children, and around the other people that have to share a room with me.
Unless,
Unless you are in my car.
Then all bets are off.
Its her 34th Birthday
Well WaitDad fans,
it's ButMom's 34th birthday . . .
And to celebrate, and because I'm mean, and because it's more fun this way, I've hidden five presents somewhere in the house.
Five Presents.
Five Clues.
Friday Five.
and a Happy Birthday to the girl I love:
Clue Won:
This one's easy, but only cause I'm such a tool.
Clue Too.
This one is from Calvin. Or for Calvin. But she did ask for it. And it is in fact right where it will end up in a tomb of its own.
Clue Three:
This one is also, most likely, exactly where it will end up, especially since she just created so much space for it, assuming thats why she created that space.
Clue Fore:
Now that she's on her Magical Mystery Tour, she may find this after a Hard Days Night, and assuming she takes a right on Abbey Road she won't need any Help with this one.
Notice the very subtle Huey Lewis reference.
Clue Five:
This one is hidden with the first present I ever gave her. It's also the oldest. Unless you consider the diamond on her engagement ring to be the oldest. Which I clearly don't. At least for the purposes of these clues.
But it does bring up a thought.
What if she doesn't remember one of the first presents I ever gave her?
What if she is racking her brain right now, so embarrassed that she can remember who played opposite Harrison Ford in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" when she is half asleep, but she can't for the life of her remember this one particular present?
Well hmmmm?
That would be pretty sad wouldn't it?
At least she's got a good six months to find it.
If she hasn't locked me up in some dungeon in Italy and made me spend all my stolen money on just a few morsels of food.
Alright then.
No more clues.
it's ButMom's 34th birthday . . .
And to celebrate, and because I'm mean, and because it's more fun this way, I've hidden five presents somewhere in the house.
Five Presents.
Five Clues.
Friday Five.
and a Happy Birthday to the girl I love:
Clue Won:
This one's easy, but only cause I'm such a tool.
Clue Too.
This one is from Calvin. Or for Calvin. But she did ask for it. And it is in fact right where it will end up in a tomb of its own.
Clue Three:
This one is also, most likely, exactly where it will end up, especially since she just created so much space for it, assuming thats why she created that space.
Clue Fore:
Now that she's on her Magical Mystery Tour, she may find this after a Hard Days Night, and assuming she takes a right on Abbey Road she won't need any Help with this one.
Notice the very subtle Huey Lewis reference.
Clue Five:
This one is hidden with the first present I ever gave her. It's also the oldest. Unless you consider the diamond on her engagement ring to be the oldest. Which I clearly don't. At least for the purposes of these clues.
But it does bring up a thought.
What if she doesn't remember one of the first presents I ever gave her?
What if she is racking her brain right now, so embarrassed that she can remember who played opposite Harrison Ford in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" when she is half asleep, but she can't for the life of her remember this one particular present?
Well hmmmm?
That would be pretty sad wouldn't it?
At least she's got a good six months to find it.
If she hasn't locked me up in some dungeon in Italy and made me spend all my stolen money on just a few morsels of food.
Alright then.
No more clues.
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