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[California Seething] Year End Wrap Up: Top Four Reasons I Avoided Reality in 2015

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Recently my dad’s been obsessed with watching Perry Mason. I’m not talking about some hip new reboot/prequel on the CW network starring Ben McKenzie as a young P-Mas in which the character is “updated” from the square jawed All-American defender of innocence to a tortured little whiny, millennial Emo Kylo Ren version of himself. Nope- I’m talking about the original show from the 1950’s- black and white film, black and white values and all white cast.

I mean- how ridiculous is it that with all the hundreds of content streams to choose from, he’s watching a show that’s 60 years old? My wife and I laugh about it all the time while we’re watching Card Sharks in the morning on Game Show Network. Of course, we stop once $25,000 Pyramid comes on- cause that shit takes FOCUS. Trust me- you do not want to screw up- especially when you’re playing for the big money- because, if you do, once time expires, Dick Clark will come down from his mighty podium like a vengeful yet strangely avuncular God and force you to keep guessing meaninglessly until you figure outCal Seething- 010415- dick the category you missed just to rub in your face what a moron you are. It’s like- if you were a little smarter or a little quicker you could have guessed that when the gay neighbor from Webster was saying “an old photo, a shot in a movie, your chances of winning” the category was “things that fade” not “things that look good” – but you botched it and so instead of winning $25,000 you’re walking away with a measly $750 which in 1986 was just barely enough money to buy a medium sized house- and Clark’s gonna make sure you feel as lousy as possible about it. Gives new meaning to “Dick move”.

Look, I’m not naive enough to think the past was perfect. The 50’s was a great time, if you were a white guy (but has there ever been a bad time?) The 70’s had Cher, wide lapels and disco- and that was the good stuff! It was also a decade full of disturbing and unsettling developments- Watergate, Cal Seething- 010416- quincythe Iran hostage crisis, Jack Klugman being considered a sex symbol. And the 80’s? Hell, we didn’t think we would get out of the 80’s alive. We were positive that if it wasn’t crack or AIDS or Reaganomics then surely it would be the bomb the bomb the bomb the bomb the bomb the bomb the bomb that would kill us.

But, of course, it didn’t. Turns out the Russians loved their children too (Putin doesn’t) and we managed to make it through the 80’s alive. And while this was a bit of a rude awakening for those of us who spent the decade not doing our homework and sneering at guidance counselors cause “what does it matter man?? We’re all gonna die!!!” it was probably all for the best.

And maybe that’s why we’re so drawn to TV from past decades. Because we know how the story ends. Look, we’re here! We made it! We can look back with a smile at those things that once terrified us and talk about them with bemused detachment like we’re telling the story of a turbulent flight at a warm dinner party with friends.

Or maybe it’s cause everything about 2015 was scary and horrible and the only way to maintain our sanity in the face of almost certain cultural and global collapse is to bury our heads in old game shows and black and white courtroom dramas. Yeah- it’s probably that.

Anyhow- 2015 has ended, and I have, despite my best intentions paid a little bit of attention- so here were the the four best reasons to avoid reality in last year.

Reason #1- The Dumb Shit that College Students Believe These Days Which is Even Dumber than the Dumb Shit I Believed When I Was a Dumb Shit College Student

When I was at SUNY Albany back in the early 1930’s, our school was voted as having the worst food in the country. We were also voted #1 party school- which gave rise to the popular joke “the food’s not nice but you taste it twice!” (NOTE: this joke was never popular). Anyhow, things got particularly dire towards the end of the semester when they were running short on cash- having blown their budget on sumptuous feasts like hot open faced Oscar Mayer turkey sandwiches with beige mucus gravy and toxic cranberry goo, and they began to get creative… or rather, moreCal Seething- 010416- taconug creative. And one of the byproducts of their creativity was the “taco nugget”….which is…exactly as terrible as you think it is. Now, at the time, we were not as enlightened as college students today, so we simply thought of these taco nuggets as “gross” or “grody” or ” nastachious to the extreme” but now, looking back on it from a more fully aware view point I recognize that what was truly nastachious about taco nuggets was not the flavor, but the implicit racism.

Clearly the white supremacists who ran the SUNY Albany cafeteria  appropriated the authentic food of the Mexican people, colonized it into a nugget and served it up to us with a micro-aggression baked right inside (the micro-aggression is what gives the nugget it’s zip. Who knew that racism could be as tasty as MSG- and as toxic!!) If only we had been as culturally aware as the students of Oberlin College in 2015, who raised their Tweets in protest when their university served culturally inauthentic Asian cuisine- including Banh Mi sandwiches on CIABATTA BREAD (SHOCKING!), sushi with UNDERCOOKED rice (OH, THE HUMANITY!) and, most disturbing of all, General Tso’s chicken with….STEAMED CHICKEN instead of fried. Can you imagine??? They might as well just serve a burning cross on a plate (with Cal Seething- 010416- chickenundercooked rice). How dare the fascist oppressors running Oberlin’s food service COLONIZE this proud, traditional, authentic Chinese dish which dates all the way back to the Old Country (New York’s Chinatown) in the 1960’s. Don’t they realize what a threat this type of blatant cultural appropriation poses to the safe space which today’s sensitive college students so desperately need for their intellectual development so that they can do bong hits, puke blood and fuck each other raw in an accepting and culturally sensitive environment (dorm shower)? What’s next? Orange Drink chicken? Egg Beaters Drop Soup? Chicken McNugget Chow Mein? Will the rape of cultures never cease???? (SPOILER ALERT: No. Also- Chicken McNugget Chow Mein sounds kind of amazing. Does that make me a racist, too???? (SPOILER ALERT: Kinda))

Look, I think it’s great that you college kids want to get involved in politics and I seriously mean that in the least patronizing way possible. Hell. I was sort of an activist in college myself and I firmly believe that none of the social change we’ve witnessed in the last century would have transpired had young people not raised their voices in protest. But you’ve gotta be smart about it. When you raise your voice in protest, you don’t want to sound like an idiot, cause nobody wants to listen to a loud idiot who isn’t running for president. So- focus on the issues that matter- climate change, economic inequality, the relentless attacks on Planned Parenthood, police brutality- you know the MACRO-aggressions. Because when you raise your voice in protest over being served a sub-par banh mi at the prestigious private liberal arts college which your mommy and daddy are paying tens of thousands of dollars a year for you to have the privilege to attend and you claim that you’re being oppressed by food service workers who make less in a year than you spend on weed…well, you sound like an idiot. A big, dumb idiot. Just like when you shut down a yoga Cal Seething- 010415- emokyloclass for disabled students because of “cultural genocide” or you insist that your professor provide a trigger warning when teaching The Great Gatsby because it portrays misogyny (both true stories). You’re a tortured little whiny, millennial Emo Kylo Ren version of an activist and nobody takes you seriously. Which is a shame- cause you’ve probably got a lot of stuff to say about the world that we really do need to hear. But we won’t. Go drown your sorrows in cafeteria sushi.

Look, it’s very simple. When deciding whether to raise your voice in protest just follow this rule- black lives matter – General Tso’s chicken doesn’t. Seriously, not even General Tso would think that was worth fighting over (especially because he would have had no fucking clue what General Tso’s chicken was). Just stick to this little guideline, kiddies and you’ll be just fine- and I seriously mean that in the most non-patronizing way possible.

But even the dumb shittiest of all dumb shit college students can never hope to compete with:

Reason #2- The Big Dumb Shit

Here’s the problem with talking about Donald Trump. Whether you’re praising, criticizing, lampooning, lambasting, Cal Seething- 010416- trumpskylauding, dismissing, condemning, wringing your hands over, skywriting about, pontificating about the significance of or shaking your head in disbelief at the unabashed loathsomeness of Donald Trump- you are still TALKING ABOUT Donald Trump- and talking about Donald Trump is the worst possible thing you can do. Because Donald Trump is like a bloated, fascist Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon and words are the helium that makes him rise up in the polls. And so the best thing we can possibly do, as Americans is STOP TALKING ABOUT DONALD TRUMP.

And I know that those of you in the mainstream media are gonna say that’s impossible- and I know where you’re coming from. Look, I don’t hate you media types- I know that you’re just people trying to do a good job, same as me. And I totally understand that because you’re a bunch of lazy, superficial, star fucking, fame whore click bait junkies (and I seriously mean that in the most empathetic way possible) you feel compelled to talk about a noxious celebrity billionaire Mussolini knock-off with a mouth like toxic waste dump (and I don’t actually mean that empathetically at Cal Seething- 010416- bernieall cause fuck that guy) So I have a tip for you- whenever you feel compelled to talk about Donald Trump- just talk about Bernie Sanders instead. It’s the perfect solution! Just think of Sanders as the Methadone for your Trump addiction.

And I know you’re gonna say that you have to talk about Trump because you’ve got some sacred duty to report the news- but that’s just one more reason why you should be talking about Sanders. Because Bernie Sanders- not Donald Trump- is the real story of the 2016 election and if you ever bothered to pull your well coiffed heads out of Trump’s pompadoured asshole, you would know that. Because- yes- a lot of us in America are angry, we do feel like we’ve been getting a raw deal and we are fed up. And yeah- a lot of us do feel sick at heart when we look at what’s become of our once great nation- and we want to make America better than it’s ever been- AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHY WE’RE VOTING FOR SANDERS. That’s why Bernie raised $33 million from over 2.5 million individual donors in the fourth quarter of 2015, that’s why he crushed Donald Trump in an online poll conducted by FOX NEWS, and that’s why he has come from total obscurity to force the whole conversation in the Democratic party to the left and has forced Hilary Republican Clinton to pay lip service to progressive issues- AND ALL OF THIS WITHOUT ONE WORD FROM YOU FUCKERS. You’re so busy falling over yourselves to breathlessly cover Trump’s latest burst of racist flatulence that you don’t see the revolution taking place right under your wet, brown noses.

But, of course, that’s exactly the way the DNC likes it. If the GOP was really serious about getting rid of Trump, they Cal Seething- 010416- debbiewould fire Reince Priebus and hire Debbie Wasserman Schultz. Hell, if she were running things over there, Trump would be as talked about as Martin O’ Malley and JEB! would have a double digit lead.

Not that Dear Leader Debbie would ever actually own up to squelching dissent. Why she would be aghast at the very thought! “How can you say that I’m insulating Hilary by not providing opportunities for opposing candidates to confront her in a debate. I scheduled SIX WHOLE DEBATES! And one of them is on the biggest TV viewing night of the year- the Saturday before Christmas! Surely everyone in America watched that debate. OK, so sure, a FEW people might have been going to holiday parties. And I guess there was just a teensy tiny portion of the population that might have been traveling to see family. Or preparing to travel. Or preparing to receive family traveling from out of town. Or cooking. Or shopping. Or decorating. Or out seeing the Nutcracker. Or Christmas Carol. Or A Christmas Story: The Musical. Or- oh yeah – fucking STAR WARS. But certainly there were still a lot of Americans at home watching TV who could see the debate. You know, unless they were watching Frosty the Snowman. Or college Bowl games. Or, oh yeah- fuckingCal Seething- 010416- frosty NFL FOOTBALL. But certainly it was the PERFECT debate viewing night for football hating Jews with no friends or family who think Star Wars is dumb- and, hey- those sound like Bernie Sanders’ people to me- so, there- you’re welcome! Of course, Bernie won’t have any way to reach these people when I take away his access to voter data due to some bullshit data breach- but, you know, rules are rules! Can’t be making exceptions- after all- you know how seriously Hilary takes data integrity!”

You really have to admire her style- she’s the Passive Aggressive Commandant of the Clinton Secret Police. Hilary should really keep her around if she comes to power. “Gosh- I’m sorry you’re stuck in Guantanamo Bay with no due process. The good news is that we’re planning to have a trial for you…on the Saturday before Christmas. Assuming of course, we can find a judge who isn’t traveling, or attending a holiday party, or watching football, or….”

But despite Data Breach Debbie’s machinations and Il Duce Trump’s blustering, Bernie continues to gain momentum. And so, if you Mainstream Media Whores are looking for a New Year’s resolution- how about covering the fucking Sanders campaign in 2016 and NOT TALKING ABOUT TRUMP ANYMORE. If you do that, I might just stop watching GSN in the morning and might actually watch the news.

But, of course, as soon as I do- I’ll see something that will scare me right back to Card Sharks like:

Reason #3: Crazy White People with Guns

I’ve covered this one pretty well in my last post– so really, all I want to add is that if 150 armed black people took over a federal building, the media would call them thugs and the cops would shoot them dead, and if 150 armed Muslims did it, the media would call them terrorists and the Army would invade Syria. But 150 armed white dudes Cal Seething- 010416- bundystorm in and take over a federal building- and the media calls them “protesters” and “patriots” and the government is all “well, let’s wait and see what happens here. I don’t think they pose any real threat- after all, it’s just an armed insurrection against the U.S. Government – it’s not like they attacked a CVS or something.” It’s like no matter how batshit crazy they are, we’re just incapable as a nation of thinking of white people as a threat – we just call them YallQueda and pinch their bearded cheeks and think the whole fucking thing is cute. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if TLC is developing a reality show around these maniacs- they can call it the Bundy Bunch (It’s a story/of a man named Bundy/who would graze his cows on land that’s not his own/and his son thought that the fedr’al gubment/it should be overthrown.) Don’t get me wrong- it’s not like I want this thing to escalate and get violent- I’m glad we’re taking a thoughtful, measured approach. I just look forward to us taking the same measured, thoughtful approach the next time Black Lives Matter organizes a peaceful protest at a shopping mall, or a 12 year old kid is seen holding a toy gun.

Also- I was sorry to see that they were so desperate to get snacks. I guess if they want crackers, they’ll have to resort to cannibalism.

Anyhow, I think you’ll agree that these were three perfectly good reasons to avoid reality in 2015, but by far and away, the best reason of all was:

Reason #4: Fear of Exposure to Star Wars Spoilers

For the love of God- I’m only human!

Actually, I’ve already seen it- so we’re all good with this one. And, I have to say- if you haven’t seen it yet- it’s chock full of surprises! C3PO coming out of the closet, Luke finally gets to Tosche Station to pick up those stupid power converters and, of course a reunion between the two lovers whose fleeting relationship was so touchingly portrayed in the original movies and sadly cut short (Leia and Jabba the Hutt)- and, of course, the cameo by Run DMC in the Cal Seething- 010416- leiaCantina (It’s Star Wars time in Tatooine / Han’s shooting Greedo in the Canteen…a)

OK- so now that I’ve seen Star Wars, that’s one less reason to avoid reality- but, no worries- there are still so many more! Climate change, economic inequality, the relentless attacks on Planned Parenthood, police brutality and all the other macro-aggressions. I wish those college activists all the luck in the world taking them on- and I would gladly join in the struggle with them- but, you know $25,000 Pyramid is on- and that shit takes FOCUS.

Happy New Year! I think 1986’s gonna be a great one- that is, of course, assuming WE DON’T ALL DIE. I can only hope the Bundys love their children, too. Now- who wants Taco Nuggets?

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[California Seething] Stuff Happens

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As many of you know, I’m not licensed to drive a car. It’s not a question of age- I’m more than old enough- 2.6875 times the legal minimum age but, you know, who’s counting? (Me. Sigh.) In fact one of the worst parts of not driving is that I have no easy way to express my midlife crisis. Seriously, what am I supposed to do?? JC Penney doesn’t carry Arizona brand red leather pants in husky sizes and a tattoo would be absolutely pointless with all the body hair unless it’s Jungle explorer hacking through the junglean old timey explorer hacking through the jungle saying “Dr Livingstone, I presume.” But let’s keep it real- my pain tolerance pretty much tops out at flossing and the threat of popping zits makes me turn state’s evidence, so I hardly think I’m tattoo material.

Anyhow- the point here is that even though I’m more than old enough to have kids who can drive, I don’t do it. It’s not a question of means- I could certainly afford a reasonably priced car commensurate with the glamorous lifestyle of a non-profit arts middle-manager (mo’ money, mo’ reasonableness), my credit rating is great (thanks to my wife) and my police record clear (thanks to blind, dumb, stupid luck – and the delightfully lax attitude of the Albany PD towards public intoxication. I suppose between the State University and State Legislature, the tax payers of Albany figured they were spending enough to subsidize the lifestyle of Long Island douchebags puking on Lark Street and didn’t need to shell out more dough to look em up in the county jail. Thanks officers! And also my wife. Let’s keep it real. I’d have been in jail a long time ago for something.)

So- yeah, it’s not an age, money or background thing- the reason I don’t drive is that the state won’t let me. Specifically, the state of California- though the state of New York wasn’t too wild about the idea either. It’s not (just) because they’re anti-Semites – I’ve been given numerous opportunities to prove to each state that I’m capable of driving and have failed every single time. I won’t go into too much detail about why I failed- suffice it to say that, if you’re wondering, hypothetically- you CAN fail the driving test for driving too slow…and also too fast….and too Cal-Seething--100515--busrecklessly…and too timidly….and for blowing past a parked school bus which was in the process of disgorging children and lit up like a medium sized casino with red flashing lights and stop signs so that any passing motorist or low flying spacecraft would know that America’s future was streaming out of the bus and to please FUCKING STOP. Remember, this is back in the dark ages when children could actually be transported to school in buses like livestock or poor people before they were required by law to be wrapped in bubble wrap and hand deliver in their parent’s SUV’s like Fabrige eggs with Asperger’s in age appropriate car seats and THAT’s why I can’t get a fucking intern who will file. Kidding! I’ve had some amazing interns- but it doesn’t really matter what I write here because millennials can’t read. Kidding! Millennials are perfectly capable of reading as long as plenty of Emoji are used. Not kidding Cal-Seething--100515--sad

Anyhow- until recently I just accepted the summary judgement of the nanny state (well, two states actually) that I wasn’t a suitable driver for the road- but now I realize that I’ve actually been oppressed all this time and that the Left Wing Nazi DMV Stalin-crats were actually stomping all over my precious FREEDOM. Hell, I don’t have to take no tests or get some fancy gubment license if I want to buy a gun- I don’t even have to get IN-surance. I can just pop into Dick’s Sporting Goods and pick up an assault rifle on sale- the way God and George Washington intended, and I ought be able to get a car the same way! I mean, I realize that cars aren’t the same as guns, like, when a car kills Cal Seething- 100515- waynesomeone- it’s an accident. But it’s the principle of the thing! And who’s fighting for my rights? Where’s my Wayne LaPierre? Why if AAA had just one of the NRA’s balls, I’d be riding down Venice Blvd in a brand new Hummer (or tank) right fucking now! Who cares if I weave all over the road or freeze in terror when I have to turn left or blow past a school bus while it’s discharging blind kindergartners – THIS IS AMERICA AND I HAVE A CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT TO ENDANGER THE LIFE OF ANYONE I CHOOSE!!! And if the other drivers don’t like it, they can run me off the road- after all- the only one who can stop a bad driver with a car is GOOD driver with a car- and if I just happen to kill a bunch of kids who are coming home from school, well, you know, stuff happens.

Yup, that’s right, “stuff happens” – the words of a man who would be leader of a Cal Seething- 100515- jeb2nation uniting his people during a time of grief. “Stuff happens”- 9 people dead and he reacts like the airline lost his luggage on the way to the NRA convention- and these victims were white!  When it comes to guns, no lives matter. But- hey- that’s the GOP for you- life begins at conception and ends when you’re shot. And if Republicans do condescend to talking about mass shootings, they insist it’s a mental health issue. So, hey if you want to get Republicans to pay attention to mental health issues- just start talking to them about guns!

We don’t actually even know how serious the gun violence problem is in this country because the CDC has been forbidden to study it. Brilliant! If we’ve learned one thing from climate change is that the best way to make a problem go away is to obstruct every effort to understand it. Now excuse me while I go lick sweet precious rainwater off the shit covered streets. Drought happens!

Honestly, I’m not even sure how to talk to Republicans anymore. If I had to host the next GOP debate (oh please, please, PLEASE let me host the next GOP debate) the only question I could think to ask is “how do you live with yourself?” Seriously- tell me. I want to know- how do you Republicans do it? How do you look at yourselves in the mirror after brushing your teeth in the morning with extra whitening toothpaste (you like your toothpaste like you like your Cal Seething- 100515- trumpfallonimmigration policy) and say “Yes- I’m a good person. I do good things. Today I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure psychopaths have the weapons they need to kill children. I’m going to stop women from getting cancer screenings or shut down the Government trying. I’ll send young men to war and cut benefits for veterans, I’ll steal from the poor and give to the rich, I’ll fight to make sure those who love each other can’t marry, I’ll make sure police departments have the weapons they so desperately don’t need and none of the oversight they do, I’ll find those who risked their lives to come to this great country so they work tirelessly in pursuit of the American dream and THROW THEM THE FUCK OUT OF THE DOOR and then build a wall so they can’t come back. Yes! That’s right! I’m a good person. I deserve to be President. Jesus FUCKING LOVES ME- HALLELUJAH!!” Seriously- tell me- how do you people live with yourselves? It’s not a rhetorical question- I’m dying to know. Cause if I was one one-hundredth as evil and corrupt as you, I would have bought one of those perfectly legal cheap and easy to get handguns, stuck it in my mouth and let stuff happen.

But then, self awareness has never been a quality that Republicans look for in their candidates. After all, the front Cal Seething- 100515- benrunner just said “I’ll apologize when I’m wrong” (ahhh- the words of a man who’s been married three times). Of course you can’t blame Trump for being cocky when his closest competitor’s greatest achievement is eliminating “brain surgeon” from the lexicon as a synonym for “smart person” forever (to the smirking delight of rocket scientists everywhere) and as for Jeb!- well- after raising over $100 million in two weeks, the highlights of his campaign are apologizing to his mom for smoking weed and earning W the nickname “the Smart One”.

But back to guns- look, I’m fully aware of the Second Amendment- how could I not be? It’s every Republican’s favorite amendment cause it’s the highest one most of them can count to. It was also named the Non-Biblical Text Most Often Misquoted by Idiots by Dance Like Nobody’s Watching Magazine. But, OK, sure- it’s in the Constitution, whether we like it or not. So if you want to bear arms- go ahead- just let me know when you’ve joined a WELL REGULATED militia. You want to carry a Cal Seething- 100515-opencarryhandgun in a holster to your daughter’s soccer game like John Wayne with a dye job and capris on the off chance that a bunch of crazed Mexican rapists sneak into the country and try to steal your halftime orange slices? NO. Sorry but no. You’re just gonna end up shot to death, and then I’m gonna have to feel bad about myself for being totally smug about your tragic death and neither of us really wants that. Yeah, yeah, constitutional right, blah blah. We all have rights- and the way we exercise those rights is governed by laws which protect the greater good. I have the right to operate a motor vehicle but the state of CA has tested my skills and determined that I shouldn’t be entrusted to exercise that right. And you know what- they’re right. IT SUCKS- but they’re right. (it’s ok, motorists of Southern California, go ahead and breathe a sigh of relief. I won’t be hurt. Sigh) And the more you insist and kick and scream that it’s your right to stockpile weapons like David Koresh (old school!) and that no one should impinge on that precious precious right with common sense regulation- the more convinced I become that you’re the last person the state should entrust with the responsibility of bearing arms- in fact- I’m gonna send Obama to your house to take all your guns away. Ha- if only! I don’t know who this socialist gun seizing Obama is that the Republicans keep talking about but he’s fantastic! Let’s get him to run for President in 2016- oh, wait- he already is #feelthebern #notsomuchwiththegunthingthough #dudelikeshuntersiguess? #stillmostlyfeelingit

And speaking of our next President whom I have to believe is going to be a Democrat or I lose all will to keep living- the first Democratic Presidential Debate is next Tuesday and, if I were moderating (oh please please please please please can I moderate??) I would have a lot of questions to ask- but the first one would surely be “so what are you gonna do about all the guns?” I may not agree with everything the candidates say- but I know for sure none of them will say that “stuff happens.” And that’s just one reason why it’s so important to vote next year- assuming I can find somebody to give me a ride.

[California Seething] Noir Springs

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NOTE: I started this post in Palm Springs on vacation a couple of weeks ago and am just finishing it now. In case you’re wondering what took so long, here is a picture of the Kirk Douglas Theatre filled with 3,000 boxes. Draw your own conclusions.

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Greetings from beautiful Palm Springs! Sure, I know it may seem counter-intuitive to live in LA and vacation in Palm Springs in August, particularly when LA is in the midst of a ball chafing heatwave and I’ve been whining like a Republican about the heat every time I go east of La Brea. Note for Republicans- saying “Black Lives Matter” Cal Seething- 090715- whitelivesdoes not constitute whining- petulantly insisting that “All Lives Matter” does. Look- I’m a 42 year old white man- I’m totally aware of how much my life matters. If anything, I’m a little embarrassed by it. I can walk into a police station and take a crap on the floor and the desk sergeant will apologize cause they don’t have Charmin. I get followed around stores, but only when they’re recruiting for management positions. Cab drivers slow down when I walk by, just in case. My FICO score is “Honky”. Cameron Crowe just cast me in his remake of The Joy Luck Club- to play EVERY SINGLE PART. I’m good. I get it. I TOTALLY FUCKING COMPLETELY MATTER. Now can we please move on to the more pressing issue of black people being murdered by asshole racist cops? Cause THAT’S the only thing here that really fucking matters.

So yeah, while I certainly don’t whine about how my life matters, I have been known to whine about the heat in LA, which makes it all the more mystifying that I chose to vacation in Palm Springs. It’s like living in Albany and wintering in Buffalo. But- hey, wait a second- people who live in cold climates spend their winters in even colder places all the time. Hell, my grandparents lived in upstate New York and spent much of the winters at their place in Cal Seething- 090715- bernieVermont- and we all know Vermont is only known for three things: Bernie Sanders, heroin and SNOW (also, Ben & Jerry’s, which is a hodge-podge of the three). Why would they do that? Wasn’t there enough snow for them in Albany? Were they just dumb?

Of course not- they did it because they wanted to ski (my grandfather did anyhow). They went to a place even colder than the one they lived in so they could perform a seasonal activity which they enjoyed. And it’s the same with me! I go to Palm Springs in August so I can float in the pool, drink gin & tonics and watch a Murder, She Wrote marathon on Hallmark Movies & Mysteries channel in air conditioned comfort. My favorite summer sports! And so much safer Cal Seething- 090715- sonnythan skiing. Look at Sonny Bono. See- look- he’s right over there! Hi Sonny! Anyhow, Bono was mayor of Palm Springs for four years and the worst thing that happened to him is that he ended up with a statue of himself on a park bench so tourists could take selfies. But he goes skiing once and BLAMMO runs into a tree and he’s dead as a Kennedy.

Gotta hand it to him for being the mayor of this town, though- that sounds like it takes a lot of effort and the sun here is a sledgehammer. It beats you flat like a piece of veal and roasts the ambition right out of you. I guess he was the only one willing to get out of the pool long enough to show up for City Council meetings. Me, I’d rather float on my back, stare up at the palm trees and contemplate film noir.

Palm Springs actually makes the perfect place to pontificate about film noir. Not only are film noir and Palm Springs both by-products of mid-century America, they both benefited greatly from the old studio system. After all, the same contracts which compelled actors and film-makers to churn out all those noir classics also required them to remain within a two hour drive of Los Angeles, in case they were needed suddenly back in Hollywood (or, let’s keep it real here, Culver City). And so a glamorous little resort town was born in the middle of the desert, a quick two hour drive from the studios (good thing traffic was better back then, or we’d be vacationing in Glendale today.) And the town that was created is the perfect embodiment of everything noir was reacting to. Row after row of one story houses- low slung and angular, sleek and Cal Seething- 090715- butterflyunburdened by history- like shiny new toasters lined up on the shelf of some long gone department store, just waiting for housewives to snatch them up in a desperate bid to outdo each other. And every house is complete with a shimmering blue David Hockney pool in the backyard, hard-bodied young divers and unspoken implications included.

It’s not an ostentatious place- just a place quietly confident of the permanence of its own improbable existence. A car in every driveway, a lawn for every house, a house for every family – plenty of oil, plenty of water, plenty of land- the finish line in the pursuit of happiness. Quiet, comfortable, climate controlled and cool- it’s the epitome of illusory American greatness during the brief pinnacle of our brief history. Hell, even the names of the neighborhoods simply drip with casual mid-century Hollywood glamour likeCal Seething- 090715- moviecolony a long string of perfect pearls– the Movie Colony, the Racquet Club. OK, well, just those two- but still!

And so, even though I’ve done no research on the subject and am much too lazy to do any, I can easily imagine the great noir screenwriters and film-makers sitting by the pool here and giving life to their darkest fantasies. Hell, I know every time I walk the dog through the silent streets and look over the neat little rows of perfect square houses to the towering mountains beyond I think- “man- what an awesome place for a murder!” OK, well sometimes I think “Seriously, Punky? You’ve got to poop now- right when we’re in the middle of crossing the street- you can’t hold it til you get to the other side?? Ooooh, you’re lucky you’re cute” or “Holy crap, Punky- that bicyclist is like three blocks Cal-Seething--100714--punkyaway WHY IN THE NAME OF GOD ARE YOU LOSING YOUR SHIT OVER IT????? Oooooh, you’re lucky you’re so cute”- but a lot of the time I think “man- what an awesome place for a murder!” Maybe it’s cause there’s never anyone around- just row after row of angular houses with closed doors. Blinds pulled tight to keep the sun’s heat out and the secrets in (eh? eh? pretty mysterious right??) A hot wind listlessly stirs the fronds on tall palm trees like slowly melting ice cubes in a pool-side vodka tonic. The only sounds I hear are the panting of the dog, the soft thump of my sneakers on the sidewalk and the screaming of the cicadas in the trees. Like a restless crowd in a play with no dialogue of its own, they continuously emit a relentless high pitched drone which scratches at my ears like a thousand tiny fingers. A million million hidden insects screeching out the unspoken anxieties of a quiet desert town. Or, you know, that’s what it sounds like to me- it’s probably some kind of mating call or their way of saying “shit, man- it’s hot as fuuuuuuck out here.” I don’t really know for sure, and I’m way too lazy to research it. That would take effort and ambition, and, as you know, it’s hot as fuuuuck out here.

Then again, it doesn’t matter what the cicadas are actually trying to say, because, just like film noir, perception is the important thing. Oh and- did I just transform a rationalization for my totally half assed effort into a perfect segue? You bet, I did! I didn’t get to be the second laziest B+ student to ever graduate from the University at Albany (right behind Steve Gutenberg) without picking up a few tricks. Gutenberg, sadly is also the most famous alumnus of the University of Albany. I know,right? We couldn’t even get Tackleberry!Cal Seething- 090715- tackleberry

But back to film noir, one of the great things is how the characters are most frequently undone not by the law or the mob but by their own twisted perception of the world they live in. And so, much like Republican women, they make terrible choices contrary to their own self interest, because of their warped perception of reality. Oh, I’m sorry- does the use of “Republican women” in that sentence offend you? In that case- please feel free to substitute: Black Republicans, Latino Republicans, Asian Republicans, Any Republicans not born in the United States, Gay Republicans, Transgender Republicans, Poor Republicans, Working Class Republicans, Middle Class Republicans, Young Republicans, Old Republicans, Middle-Aged Republicans, Republicans Currently Serving in the Military, Republicans Who Used to Serve in the Military, and Republicans whose Republican Family Members Went Off to Serve in the Military and Never Came Home Again. Pretty much the only two Republicans who are actually voting in a way that’s consistent with their own self interest are Charles and David Koch. Hell, even Cal Seething- 090715- trumpmexicoDonald Trump is voting against his self interest- I mean, sure he talks big about building a wall, but all of his suits and most of his employees are made in Mexico.

But hey, that’s America for you- always shooting off our nose to spite our face with 1000 rounds of armor piercing ammo delivered for free thanks to Amazon Prime. And, much like the American people, the men & women of noir are their own worse enemies- and in no film is this more evident than Nicholas Ray’s quiet masterpiece In A Lonely Place. Humphrey Bogart plays screenwriter Dixon Steele (real name Davidovich Steimtasky). He used to be pretty successful, but that was before the war. Ever since coming back- he hasn’t quite been the same. Maybe something was unleashed on the battlefield that he couldn’t quite figure out how to shove into the two car garage of a suburban tract home. Now he can’t focus like he used to, lacks empathy, is prone to violent outbursts and, worst of Cal Seething- 090715- bogartall, his movies lose money –to this day the only truly unforgivable crime in Hollywood.

Anyhow, late one night, Dixon brings a young coat check girl back to his Beverly Hills patio apartment – and no- not to have sleazy Josh Duggar sex with her. (Bill Cosby would also be an acceptable reference there. Jared Fogle would not. That prick got off too easy- if we really wanted to punish him, we’d make him keep eating Subway. Hell, he probably just pled guilty so quickly to finally make it stop. I know how he feels. I once had Subway for lunch for two weeks straight and I was one BMT away from being the Zodiac Killer.) Anyhow- like I said- he doesn’t want to do anything dirty- just for her to give him an oral….report (I said nothing dirty!) on a book that he loaned her, since he’s too lazy to read the book himself and has a meeting in the morning to discuss adapting it for a screenplay. This may seem strange to some of our younger readers, but you have to remember that before Wikipedia, if you were too lazy to read a book, it was quite common to bring home random restaurant employees to summarize it for you. Hell, I never would have passed Abnormal Psych if that friendly bus boy from Ground Round hadn’t broken down the textbook for me. At any rate, the coat check girl turns up dead the next day (same thing happened to my bus boy. Ahh Pablo, when I close my eyes, I can still hear you explaining schizophrenia), Dixon is a natural suspect, and the only person who can vouch for his whereabouts during the time the murder was committed is Laurel Grey (Gloria Grahame) his beautiful and mysterious neighbor who lives across the courtyard, and saw Dixon from her apartment as he sent the coat check girl on her way.

Anyhow- Laurel and Dixon fall in love, but the detectives investigating the murder still suspect Dixon and they plant seeds of suspicion in Laurel’s mind. Dixon pours a giant can of water on these seeds with his violent temper and crazy pants behavior and causes them to flower into great big blossoms of doubt (is it me or did this get weirdly Cal Seething- 090715-bogartandgrahmehorticultural all of a sudden?)

Anyhow- I don’t want to give away what happens in the end- but, come on, it’s a film noir called In A Lonely Place- so…you know…it’s not good. Her distrust leads to fear, fear leads to deception, her deception fuels his rage, his rage unleashes violence. By the time she actually finds out if Steele is guilty or innocent of murder, it’s too late- their future together is as dead as the coat check girl (or a doe eyed bus boy with a preternatural understanding of the DSM). It’s been poisoned by their toxic mistrust of each other, strangled by their choices and dumped off the road in a lonely place.

And that brings up one of the other great pleasures of film noir- the Film Title Drinking Game (invented by my wife. Copyright 2015)- wherein you do a shot every time a character says the title of the movie. In fact, there’s one movie called Tension which is worth watching for two reasons- there are a couple of scenes shot in and around the Culver Theater – 50 years before it was converted to the Kirk Douglas Theatre and 60 years before it was filled with Cal Seething- 090715- tensionboxes, and the fact that if you are playing the Film Title Drinking Game- you will get FUCKED UP. The hard-nosed cop played by Barry Sullivan even stretches a rubber band between his fingers throughout the movie just to make the point about how much TENSION (gulp) the characters are under and if enough TENSION (gulp) is applied, a criminal will sooner or later crack because of all the tensidi-tense TENSION (gulp. Vomit)

But of course, we came to Palm Springs to get away from all the TENSION (gulp) of Los Angeles and to soak up chlorine, sunshine and ambiance. And as the sun goes down, the ambiance intensifies. Palm Springs is even more deliciously ominous by night. The cicadas quiet down and the wind takes over as sound designer. And while the cicadas perfectly capture the simmering TENSION (gulp) that lurks behind closed doors under the burning sunlight, the wind brings out all the mystery and intrigue of the city in darkness. It whoshes through trees, tinkles chimes on porches and scrapes a dry leaf across the pavement, scraping the nerves as it travels along. Of course, the lighting helps too. There are no street lights- the only illumination is provided by sconce lights on houses. Some are cold new fluorescents shining through clear glass like hard blue eyes. Others are incandescents in aging plastic, cracked and yellow as nicotine stained teeth. Hell, we’re way past noir town here and heading for David Cal-Seething--090715--cowskLynch country. (The sconce lights on our rental house had the outline of a cow skull cut into them. That’s not really so much evocative of murder, unless it’s the murder of good taste and Georgia O’ Keefe is the primary suspect.) Even the names of the gated communities are evocative and mysterious- the Enclave, Sunrise Palms. OK- just those two- but still! Can’t you just picture a retired Dale Cooper living in a place called Sunrise Palms, spending his days talking into a tape recorder (actually a banana) and drinking sludgy coffee with dwarves (actually Filipino nurses)? “Annie’s just fine, Agent Cooper. You don’t have to keep asking about her. Why don’t you take your pills and have a nice nap? Maybe you’ll see your friend the giant!”Cal Seething- 090715- dale

Of course, in reality, nothing much evil is happening at all. The worst crime most people are guilty of in Palm Springs is pulling their white tube socks all the way up to their knees and walking through Trader Joe’s so…fucking…slowly. But that wouldn’t make much of a noir movie- I mean what would you even call it? They Shopped By Day? Push the Cart Slowly? The High Tubesocks? Fearful Flyer? Raw Deal….on Raw Cashews? The Big Schlep? “Look at you- shopping by day (gulp)- pushing the cart slowly (gulp) acting all high and mighty with your high tubesocks (gulp). You’re looking for a bargain- but all you’re gonna get is a raw deal on raw cashews (gulp). So go ahead- look through that Fearless Flyer for savings- deep down you’re just a fearful flyer (gulp) cause you know there’s no saving you. Someday soon you’re gonna take that big schelp (gulp) to the sky and I’ll be able to get the hell out of here with my Riesling and tortellini in less than 45 minutes and get on with my damn life.” So- yeah- not nearly as interesting in reality as in the imagination, but then- that’s reality for you. Fucking lame.

Still, all vacations must come to an end, so now I find myself in September walking the dog through the dusty backstreets of West LA past broken cacti and patches of dirt with receding hairlines of brown grass. There are no cicadas, just the oceanic roar of the freeway and the only mysteries to solve are “why does everyone dump their mattresses here?”, “is the guy in the Montero Sport, like, living in his car?” and “no, seriously – why DOES everybody dump their mattresses here?” and honestly, none of these are mysteries I’m really eager to solve since the answer is likely to be more depressing than the question. Even the street names are uninspiring- National, Robertson- well, OK, just those two- but still!Cal Seething- 090715- tshirt

But, we’ve still got a few noir movies on the DVR we haven’t seen which we recorded during TCM’s Summer of Darkness, like grey leftovers in the fridge that still smell sort of fresh, and I got an awesome Summer of Darkness t-shirt and TCM hat from my wife, who retains her title as Best Gift Giver Ever for the 17th year running as well as being my partner in crime (or crime movie watching anyhow) and most important person in my life. Happy Anniversary! Someday, when we’re old, we’ll get to spend all our time in Palm Springs, but for the time being, it’s just a two hour drive away (or was in the 40’s anyhow), in case the tension (gulp) of Los Angeles gets to be too much. And, meanwhile, if you want to find me, I’ll be at the former Culver Theatre, now the Kirk Douglas, hiding under a pile of boxes and dreaming of my next vacation. Oooh- maybe I’ll see my friend, the giant!

Cal Seething- 090715- giant

Oh- and if you’re wondering what the deal is with all the boxes- check out The Object Lesson at the Kirk Douglas Theatre now playing through Oct 4. It’s pretty amazing- almost worth coming back from Palm Springs for. Almost.

[California Seething] Shark-noir-do

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SPOILER ALERT: This post may contain details and information that could spoil the experience of watching Sharknado 3. Then again, it would be hard to imagine I could possibly spoil the experience of watching Sharknado 3 Cal Seething- 081115- handsawany more than the bozos who made the movie already have. And therein lies the biggest mystery of Sharknado 3. No- it’s not whether Tara Reid lives or dies at the end- I guess they’ve just left that up to Twitter to decide- so do yourself and America a favor and hashtag “#AprilDies” on everything you Tweet – because the most believable part of her performance is her prosthetic chainsaw attachment which is the most human thing about her. But, anyhow, the biggest mystery about Sharknado 3 is – how did they manage to ruin something that was already so terrible to begin with? Look at it this way, any chef can screw up beef bourguignon- but it takes a special kind of incompetence to fuck up Ramen- and that’s exactly what the geniuses who made Sharnknado 3 did. How the hell did they manage that? All they had to do was take a cheap, pre-packaged shark movie, boil it in shlock til it was dumb enough to be funny but not so long that it was reduced to a brainless mush, and add in a shiny flavor packet of Gen-XCal Seething- 081115- ramen in-jokes (Ian Ziering is cinematic MSG) and voila- a Sharknado 3 that doesn’t suck. Just a tasty little movie with no nutritional value that’s even more delicious when you’re wasted. They followed this recipe and produced two perfectly good (or, let’s keep it real, perfectly bad) Sharknado movies- but they messed it up badly with the third one.

First of all, they overcooked it- going well past the “brainless mush” stage until nothing was left but a gelatinous glob of gore and idiocy. Then they emptied an industrial sized canister of celebrity cameos into the glob (David Hasselhoff is cinematic Cheez Whiz), deep fried the whole thing in product placement and served it with a side of cynical self-awareness- like oh oh oh- we know it’s dumb so that makes everything ok. Well, I’ve got news for you guys- it doesn’t. Dog shit with parsley is still just dog shit- and yes, I realize I just pulled off the extremely rare “metaphor inside a metaphor”- the blogging equivalent of the flashback inside a flashback. And, yes, I realize that was actually a metaphor FOR a metaphor- which is even more rare- as rare as a unicorn or a Lincoln Chafee supporter or a transgendered Republican reality TV star. Come to think of it- why isn’t Caitlyn running for president? I mean – Olympic champion, successful businessman, conservative Christian,Cal-Seething--081115--voltr pop culture icon and now a WOMAN??? That’s something for everyone! She’s a one woman Fox News debate! She’s five candidates in one- she’s GOPTron! Hell, she’s even got a black son in law (or, ex-step-son-in-law- close enough). Now if she can just get Khloe to marry Pitbull she’ll be UNSTOPPABLE.

Which gets me back to my original point- how did the producers manage to screw up Shaknado 3 so badly? The movie starts with a tornado full of sharks hitting Washington DC and destroying the White House- could there be any better metaphor for the election??? I mean, come on – 10,000 sharks hit DC and not a single one has Trump hair- how did the producers miss that? It’s like striking out at kickball. Sure, there was a tiny nod to political satire with Cal Seething- 081115- cubancoulterPresident Mark Cuban and Vice President Anne Coulter (easily the scariest part of the movie) but they could have done so much more. For instance: Obama orders Congress to evacuate- the Republicans refuse and are eaten by sharks. Trump says the sharks are murderers and drug dealers that are attracted by Megyn Kelly’s blood. Bernie Sanders has some great ideas but #SharkLivesMatter shouts him down at a rally which the mainstream media won’t cover. Jeb Bush claims he’s half shark, Fox News claims the science is still out on sharknados, Jimmy Fallon says the sharks can eat more than Chris Christie, Marco Rubio compares the sharknado to an abortion, and a shark eats some lion no one’s ever heard of in Zimbabwe and Facebook loses it’s GODDAMN MIND. Meanwhile Hilary hangs back and doesn’t say a damn thing cause she knows sooner or later the sharks are all gonna Cal Seething- 081115- hilaryeat each other and, when the storm clears, she’ll be the only one standing. Yup- that’s Hilary- President of a ruined nation, its institutions of government destroyed, standing knee deep in shark guts- but- hey- at least she got to be what she always wanted to be when she grew up- so the American Dream is still working for somebody. Slow clap for Madame President. Credits. And THAT’S how you make a Sharknado movie in Washington.

Sadly, though, that’s not what the producers of Sharknado 3 did. Instead, they expected us to believe that Mark Cuban is leader of the free world, an action hero and a passable actor- in ascending order of implausibility. Seriously, Cuban hasn’t been this unconvincing since he met with DeAndre Jordan. And then, after Cal Seething- 081115- iwojimaour heroes raise the American flag Iwo-Jima style in order to impale a flying shark, the worst thing to happen to Veterans in this country since the VA, the movie leaves DC for Universal Orlando- a perfect example of cynical corporate interests ruining something that pretty much sucked to begin with. Hey- come to think of it- you could say the same thing about the Republican party- so maybe this movie is a sly political satire after all!

Anyhow, back in Universal Orlando, Tara Reid is about to give birth to Ian Ziering’s baby (the Cal-Seething--081115--bodersecond scariest thing about this movie) and is hanging out with her mom, Bo Derek, who, in the movie’s only pleasant surprise, looks refreshingly human for an actress her age. Things just get dumber and bloodier from there and the whole thing ends up in outer space with Ian Ziering, David Hasselhoff – who turns out is a former astronaut (one of the less plausible things about the movie) and also Ian Ziering’s dad (one of the most!) and Tara Reid, who was fortunate enough to find a petite maternity space suit at the very last minute. Actually, that’s not really so surprising – what’s surprising is that they take the opportunity to do product placement “Finn- I don’t care if I am pregnant. If you’re going into space to save the world I’m going with you. And besides, I found the cutest little space suit at Pea in the Pod, and I’m just dying to try it out!”

Anyhow, they are launched into space by NASA on a secret space shuttle with the intention of creating a huge explosion which will somehow end the sharknado, which is TOTALLY PREPOSTEROUS. I mean, everyone knows if you want to blow something up in space you hire Space X. But anyhow, the explosion thing doesn’t work and they have to use the old SDI (“Star Wars”) satellites from the 80’s instead to fire a laser pulse into the heart of the giant storm. Well, before the ghost of Ronald Reagan can say “I told you so- wait- what were we talking about again?”, Hasselhoff leaves the shuttle to float out to theCal-Seething--081115--hoff satellite and hit Ctrl-Alt-Delete on it so that it can fire the laser- even though he knows it means he will die in space because the shuttle doesn’t have enough fuel to come back and pick him up. Which I guess is supposed to be heroic, and I guess we’re supposed to be inspired by his courage when one of the movie’s final shots shows him standing on the surface of the moon- but I have to wonder – if he could float 240,000 miles to the moon how come he couldn’t float 50 feet back to the space shuttle? But then again, I suppose I too would rather suffocate in the infinite blackness of space then spend ONE MORE FUCKING MINUTE ALIVE with Tara Reid #AprilDies.

Anyhow, sharks in space, something something something, space shuttle destroyed, Tara Reid gets swallowed by a shark, Ian Ziering goes in after her and she gives birth to her baby while plummeting to earth in the belly of an enormous flaming shark, ultimately slicing it open from the inside with the buzzsaw attachment on her hand (man, that thing can act!) and handing the mewling infant to Ian Ziering before slicing her way out of the carcass of the beast. And it’s perfect cause this is exactly what she wrote in the birth plan she gave her doula except for the Enya and aromatherapy candles.

Oh yeah, sharks also eat the cast of the Today show but spare Kathy Lee and Hoda because they’re in recoveryCal Seething- 081115- aprildies and at the very end of the movie, a giant hunk of space debris falls out of the sky on Tara Reid and, we, the viewers get to vote on Twitter if she lives or dies – and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AMERICA, I’m begging you once more to tweet #AprilDies. An America that doesn’t want to kill Tara Reid just isn’t an America I want to live in.

Alright, so, yeah, Sharknado 3. Total crap. The worst movie of the summer not featuring Planned Parenthood. I’ve already written 1500 more words than that fucking movie deserved. And maybe the reason I’m being so critical of it is that I’ve been obsessed all month with the TCM’s Summer of Darkness- DVR’ing 24 hours worth of film noir classics every Friday in June & July and slowly working my way through them. Now, some of you may not be aware of what film noir is or have any knowledge of classic cinema- and that’s OK. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being a culturally illiterate philistine wallowing in the excrement of your cinematic ignorance who thinks that being a sophisticated movie goer means spending $15 to see Pixels at the Arclight in Sherman Oaks. You know, per se. Hey, it’s your money (Mazal Tov, BTW, to the fast food workers of New York State for their recent minimum wage increase. They’ll be earning no less than $15/hour state-wide by 2021, which is perfect as it gives McDonalds exactly enough time to perfect the robo-cashier. Just hand over your money to the animatronic clown, kiddies, then never stop screaming in your sleep.) If you want to spendCal-Seething--081115--pixel your hard earned cash watching Adam Sandler, Kevin James and Josh Gad (add Jack Black and you’ve got the Mount Rushmore of Ugh) fight classic video game characters in a movie that’s been hacked to pieces so that it be sold to the Chinese (I suppose it’s only fitting. First we ruin Chinese food to make it palatable to Americans now we ruin American movies to make them palatable to the Chinese), that’s your terrible choice to make. Who am I to judge? (GUILTY!) Hey, we all have our taste in crap- I liked the first two Sharknado movies and I’m a sucker for the Fast & Furious franchise. But, sometimes it’s good to know that there’s something better out there and that’s when I turn to TCM. Because like Monterey Park hot-pot in a world of Panda Express- TCM has the real thing.

So what is this film noir thing anyhow? First of all- it’s important to know how to pronounce it- it’s not “Film New-ahh” with a silent “r” like it’s en francais or something – it’s “Film Newarrr” with the “r” pronounced American style. Cause while the name may be French, the film movement is as American as French Fries or French Dressing, although to be fair- the stories are actually told through the international language (film- what were you thinking?) Anyhow, there are a million ways to define Film Noir (or “freedom flicks” as Lindsay Graham called them in the mid 2000’s) but I like to start with this quote from Walter Neff, protagonist of Double Indemnity, the best film noir of all Cal Seething- 081115- nefftime:

“Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money – and a woman – and I didn’t get the money and I didn’t get the woman. Pretty, isn’t it?”

And, weirdly, enough, it is pretty. Cause that’s what film noir is all about- making bad choices while looking good. And while I realize that could also be the logline for Models, Inc, it’s nevertheless true of film noir. Now, some of these choices can seem innocuous at first- pick up the wrong hitchhiker, notarize the wrong document, go home with the wrong guy and, boom, just like that your life can be changed forever. In these movies, fate can seem arbitrary and cruel- like a pop-quiz from the universe designed to test your character.

But in most film noir, the choices are not so innocent. Take our friend Walter Neff. Now, Walter has things pretty good. He’s a charming, handsome bachelor with a good job that allows enough flexibility to go bowling in the afternoon (my lifelong dream) and an apartment in Hollywood with underground parking- which in and of itself is something worth killing for (“I killed him for off-street parking- and an open-plan kitchen- and I didn’t get the parking and I didn’t get the kitchen”- House Hunters Noir!)

But he is dissatisfied. He’s restless. We’ve all felt it. This country was founded on restlessness and dissatisfaction- it’s at the root of the American Dream. But it’s dangerous. Hell, there’s nothing more dangerous than restless, dissatisfied white people- just ask anyone we haven’t killed yet. Now for the first 150 years or so of this country’s existence the answer to restlessness and dissatisfaction was always “go west, young man”. But Walter Neff finds himself in sunny Los Angeles- as far west as he can go. I mean, technically, I suppose technically he could move to Santa Monica but then he’d have to give up his underground parking spot and THERE ARE LIMITS. So, what does he do? He goes slightly north-east instead to the home of Mr and Mrs Cal Seething- 081115- walterandphyllis.Dietrichson somewhere in the hills. He is hoping to renew Mr Dietrichson’s car insurance but ends up concocting a much deadlier plan when he meets Mrs Phyllis Dietrichson, a very sexy woman with a really unsexy name.

In fact Walter and Phyllis sound less like a couple of sex crazed killers and more like my grandparent’s friends from Congregation Beth Emeth. Sure, Phyllis hosted a killer Hadassah luncheon and Walter was a hoot at the Brotherhood breakfasts, but my grandparents had to cut them off when they caught Walter cheating at canasta. He couldn’t help himself. He’s no good. He’s rotten. That’s the reason why most noir heroes and heroines make the terrible choices they do in response to their dissatisfaction. They’re rotten. And it’s the only reason we viewers need- we don’t need to know about their terrible childhoods, we don’t need to hear about how they are victims of society, how they suffer from FFS (Femme Fatale Syndrome.) Everything we need to know about their backstory is wrapped up in this quote from The Hollow Triumph – “It’s a bitter little world.”

The men and women of noir have been kicked around their whole lives and so they are shitty people with poor impulse control who are likeable because they are so damn cool. It’s a blast to watch them try and get away with stuff the rest of us barely dare to think about and cathartic as hell when they fall on their chiseled faces with success just tantalizingly out of reach- tripping over their shoelaces at the finish line of the marathon. Or- better yet, they cross the finish line and feel warm and safe all wrapped in the shinyCal Seething- 081115- marathon insulated blanket of success only to fall into an open trench reaching for someone to hug.

And in the best noir flicks, what trips our heroes up is not their wickedness but their inconvenient humanity- the shot they can’t take, the heart they can’t break, the home they shouldn’t try to go back to but can’t help themselves, the lover they can’t leave behind, the betrayal they never see coming. And sometimes, it’s just the fact that they can’t live one more day with their horrible, rotten selves and so they jump in to that open trench with a crooked smile on their face and leave the rotten world behind.

As for Walter Neff- I won’t tell you exactly what happens to him. Suffice it to say he makes some bad choices and they don’t turn out well. He doesn’t get the money. He doesn’t get the woman. And he’s probably gonna lose his parking spot. A bitter little world indeed.

There’s a lot more I can say about film noir and, in fact, I’m going to say it! In my next post, though because I’ve already wasted your whole fucking lunch hour (sorry). Why not? What am I supposed to do instead of wallowing in the great films of the past- deal with reality? Seriously??? Have you seen that place? There’s random violence, Cal Seething- 081115- debatesanctioned brutality and a perfect storm of right wing lunatics gathering in the skies above Washington threatening to strike the White House in 2016 (GOPnado). And since Shitnado 3 was such a major disappointment and I refuse to gorge myself on the globs of orange chicken being vomited out in 3D from IMAX screens, I turn to noir for distraction instead- a cool, dark cafe away from the blazing sun. And you know what, it’s nice in here. I think I’ll stay awhile. I mean, just look at what’s waiting for me in the outside world- armed white supremacists marching around Ferguson,  Trump gaining in the polls, the Jets punching each other in the face- why not live in the past??? The present blows! But the sad truth is that sooner or later I’m gonna run out of noir flicks on my DVR and I’m going to have to return to the present- and in anticipation of that terrible day- allow me to just say one thing- #AprilDies. It’s the least I can do to make the world a little less bitter.