Hello America. I am a liberal 25-year-old working in the magazine industry in New York City. I was educated at a New England prep school and attended a top-tier college from which I graduated Cum Laude. My last three girlfriends were from countries that you've never heard of, and I prefer my sexual partners to be from an oppressed minority (my current girlfriend is a Pygmy). In case you're not getting the picture, I invite you over to my flat to listen to me pronounce my friend Pedro' name and the word "Doritos" with the phonetically correct, rolled Spanish "R".
Translation: I am much, much smarter than you.
I understand that you would probably not be such a shit-for-brains if you could just spend some time with my multicultural posse and me, chilling out while listening to my bisexual friend Emanuel spin Brazilian hip-hop. Unfortunately, the lounge where we kick it doesn't admit people wearing conservatively colored plaid Brooks Brothers dress shirts (Spin is a verb meaning to DJ, like the guy you yell at when you want to hear "Twist and Shout" a third time at your frat brother' wedding).
In any case, if you're not familiar with people like me (who are much, much smarter than you), we generally like to communicate by talking about things that Americans like that we know to be retarded, or about things that Americans have never heard of that we know to be brilliant. It gives us a chance to communicate our superior intellect without actually coming out and saying that we're smarter than everyone else on the face of the globe.
Get ready to be chastened, dipshit.
TV Show that You Like Because You are Stupid
During the first season, the writers of Lost created an atmosphere rich in mystery and intrigue. There were polar bears, walking cripples and magical black children. I found myself giddily asking my TV set (72-inch vintage HD flat panel) in unison with the rest of you: what the fuck is going on here?
Unfortunately, it appears the writers were asking themselves the same thing. This season they've basically been treading water, not moving the story forward at all, and in some cases moving backwards. It became clear that the writers had painted themselves into a corner in the second episode of the season when absolutely NOTHING HAPPENED for the entire hour.
The show has become the equivalent of that street performer at Venice Beach who gets tourists from the Midwest to cough up money by promising a big payoff, which it turns out is just him riding a unicycle around sobbing about how his mother didn't love him.
And still, the show is getting great ratings, as America continues to tune in to see the big reveal. Well, push those tube socks down off of your pasty shins and close your goddamned stupid Big Gulp-slurping mouths, the trick ain't coming.
Mark my words right now: they do not have a coherent way of ending this thing. You are going to be disappointed. If you are still watching this show then I've got a trick to show you where I pull a big shiny nickel out from behind your ear.
Movie That You Like Because You are Stupid
In Good Company:
Granted it came out a year ago, every time I flip past HBO lately, I see Topher Grace wearing a suit that' too big for him and Dennis Quaid doing a Jack Nicholson impression. Finally, I gave in to the gravitational pull of our culture' mind-numbing stupidity and watched it.
About 15 minutes into In Good Company, a 26-year-old advertising executive played by Grace gives his sales team a speech that would be at home in any boardroom across America: "This guy' psyched, you know I'm psyched! Now let me ask you: are you psyched?" (This is coincidentally, also the pep talk that Topher Grace gives himself before masturbating to reruns of That 70' Show.)
Apparently, the answer was yes America, you were psyched. In Good Company was greeted with glowing reviews (an outrageous 82% freshness rating on RottenTomatoes.com), did a brisk business at the box office and last week was even seen cropping up on the occasional "Best of 2005" list.
Quick question here: Are you fucking kidding me?
You're going to sit through a completely un-ironic corporate pep-rally that features inspirational music during a speech about "getting psyched" and "synergy," and not want to hold the projectionist hostage? Do you not get enough of this mindless, kitten hanging on a doorknob and telling you to "hang in there," Seven Habits of Highly Effective People-espousing bullshit while you're sitting in your cubicle, listening to the dull sound of your brains being sanded into smooth, indecipherable pebbles of corporate ethos by the beta waves from your computer screen?
Read that last sentence over again and let it sink in. If you still don't understand it, let me explain: I am so much smarter than you that it is fucking ridiculous.
Honorable Mention: Memoirs of a Geisha
Not since Hollywood Scotch-taped John Wayne' eyes into a squint and called him Gengis Kahn has a film so baldly insulted Asian culture. Having a Chinese actress play the lead in a movie about Japanese Geishas is the equivalent of casting Cheech as the next James Bond, and hoping that people won't mind because Mexico and Britain are in the same hemisphere.
Fuck you, America. Suck my dick!
Go ahead, try and challenge the indomitable logic of my pop-culture observations. Just don't underestimate me because of my artfully tussled hair and Jack Spade carry-along satchel. I know three forms of the non-violent Brazillian dance martial art Capoeira and am not affraid to use them.
Until next time, enjoy the life lessons that you learn from whatever sitcom with a laugh track you watch tonight.
Bawitdaba, pass the green beans.
It's hard out there for millionaire purveyors of garbage pizza.