Friday, April 22, 2005

Safety at Last

So I come home last night, heat up a Swedish Meatballs Lean Cuisine (as I do), and crack open my latest issue of Time Out New York, which is all about apartment hunting, and what kind of apartments you can afford on the salary you make. The whole article is kinda bullshitty, as it assumes you would live in a 3 bedroom apartment without any roommates chipping in. So while it tells people who make $60,000 that they can live in a swanky studio on the swanky Upper West Side (West Sii-IIIDE!), someone making $100,000 can live in much less nice and less centrally located 3 bedroom apartment in Astoria, Queens - allow me to borrow from my middle school dayz to retort with a "Nuh-Duh".

Anyway, so I'm flipping through Time Out, looking at all the cultural offerings in the city that I rarely/never take advantage of, when I see the most KICK ASS THING is happening this weekeend, Passover weekend, when I, Jew to form, will be in Miami seder-ing it up with the gang (Ma, Pa, Elijah T. Prophet, Manny Schevitz, jet-setera).


For those very dedicated readers who've been reading since the start, you may remember my post dedicated to what I believe is one of the funniest movies ever made, Safety Last. The movie, which is not out on DVD and rarely shown on television, but which you will recognize from the famous image of the man hanging off of the clock, will be shown on the big screen this weekend at the Forum. I beg you, New Yorkers, SEE THIS MOVIE.

There seems to be a sort of Harold Lloyd Rennaissance going on. This month, Turner Classic Movies has a cutesy little theme of "April Fools", showing classic comedies every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night. TCM is one of the best stations out there, showing commercial free films with really interesting introductions by a pleasant Chris Matthews lookalike. And don't let the Jew thing fool you: I prefer my films uncut, thank you very much. AMC (or "American Movie Classics", as they insist on being called) doesn't hold a candle to TCM: For fuck's sake, last night they were showing G.I. Jane, which ran 3:30 hours thanks in large part to Swiffer and their addictive ad campaign. It's like, every time I see that commercial, there's a little Swiffer Duster going in my ear, wiping out some long forgotten childhood memory and overwriting it with "Swiff it! Swiff it good!" And their brain-swiffing seems to be working, as I own every Swiffer variation: dry Swiffer mop, wet Swiffer (love!), the Swiffer Wet Jet (sounds dirty, but cleans well), and my latest aquisition, the Swiffer/Dirt Devil Vac, which I got for a steal thanks to some pesky disclaimer about 5 people in Indiana lighting themselves on fire because of some motor problem blah blah blah. Unfortch, the vacuum has about as much suction power as a desiccated, 1986-era Garfield window plush, and rather than sucking up the price tags and pounds of hair that make their way to my floor, it somehow manages to blow it into another corner of my room. Long story long, don't invest. Just set yourself on fire the old fashioned way, working in an oil-refinery.

Where was I? Ah yes, Harold Lloyd! A few weeks ago TCM had a Harold Lloyd marathon, and I managed to tape a few, although still haven't found anyone who was interested in watching them with me (it does seem to add to the enjoyment -- there's something a little depressing about watching silent films in your pajamas and eating hummus and crackers by yourself.)

So, those are my instructions this weekend. I'll be returning on Monday night, and hope to catch some of his lesser-known works before the festival ends on May 17.

But what about those of you living outside of a 500-mile radius from the city? What are you supposed to do this weekend? My suggestion for you, if you have HBO-on-Demand, is to demand to see "Funny Old Guys", a 40-minute documentary about a group of old men in their 80's, men who used to write for such shows as The Dick Van Dyke Show, All in the Family, and The Jeffersons, who meet every Tuesday for bagels and brunch at their local tennis club in California.

These men are completely adorable and wonderful to listen to. They talk about the industry, their lives, being blacklisted and its effects on their career... I walked away from this with 3 hiLARious new jokes (doubly funny when hearing them tell it), and having shed a few tears, as the story takes a touching and sad turn toward the end. 40 minutes well spent, still loving all of my on Demand features.

(Here's an example, picture a really cute old man telling this: This guy gets an operation, and afterwards the doctor comes in, and he says "I've got good news and I've got bad news. The good news is, we were able to save your testicles. The bad news is, they're under your pillow.")

So I received my Darth Tater this morning... worth every penny. I've placed it on my very clean and uncluttered desk, and am playing a little experiment called "How Long Until Someone Either Makes a Snide Comment About Darth Tater or Asks Me To Remove It From My Desk?" Game. May the brute force be with you.

The twain shath ne'er mixeth.

And just when I think I'm cursed, I realize I'm blessed. How so? Take a look at this pretty interesting site: THE WORST JOBS IN HISTORY. If the blood/shit shmears throughout give you any idea, breathe in that stale office air, strap on that middle-class glow, and thank God, whether he exists or not.

Or you could do what I do, and plan your escape.

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