Posts Tagged ‘escapism’
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The scenario in today’s strip is close enough to the truth to make a joke out of it. I’m finding the war coverage more and more oppressive. I was really left with very little choice but to go out and find some mindless escapism. So Cami and I went out and rented a bunch of dumb movies. We would have seen Phone Booth, but as you can imagine, we weren’t to up on seeing a movie about terrorism at the moment.
For the record, we really did rent The Master of Disguise and Undercover Brother. You won’t find me near Sweet Home Alabama with a ten foot pole, so our third movie was actually Wet, Hot American Summer.
Despite my better judgment, I really like Master of Disguise, but I’m glad I didn’t see it in a theater. Truthfully, I’m just more excited about Dana Carvey doing his thing than anything else. I’ve been a big fan of his for a long time. It’s a crime he isn’t in more movies.
I really liked Undercover Brother. I laughed out loud several times – which shocked me, because I’m not really fond of Eddie Griffin. But it was racial humor done right. If it had come along before the Austin Powers franchise, I picture it being much more popular. Be being the “johnny-come-lately” that it is, there’s a certain “been there, done that” feel about it.
Clearly the best of the three movies we picked up this weekend was Wet, Hot American Summer. I wish I could describe it to you, but I can’t. Basically, it’s a send up of every cheesy 80’s movie cliche there is – but I’m not talking in a Breakfest Club kind of way. Think Meatballs. It stars Janeane Garofalo and David Hyde Pierce, but it was written and directed by some cast-offs from the comedy troupe The State. You might remember the show they had on MTV for a couple of seasons in the mid-90’s.
Do yourself a favor and rent it. It’s got cult status stamped all over it.
Beyond that, I’m still getting used to updating the site through the new PHP script Comrade F from The Misc. helped me to install. For more background information on the big switch, check out Friday’s strip.
Last, but not least, I’d like to publicly thank those of you who donated over the weekend after I detailed the sob story about my car and the $700 in repairs I’ve been laid up with. You’re help means more than I can express.
But this generosity got me to thinking: I’m not usually one to ask for a handout. I’ll take it if you give it, but it only seems far to give something back in return, right? That’s why I’m pleased to announce that I am working on a THEATER HOPPER POSTER!
My hope is to get this off to the printer this week. My plan is to do a really small run and number them so those of you who buy them know you have something extra special in your possession. If they turn out to be a success, I’ll whip up a brand new poster with a limited print run and number those, too!
I’ll sign the poster for anyone who wants the autographed and plan on shipping them in tubes so they don’t get ruined. PayPal looks like the logical choice for now, but if you have any suggestions for internet transactions that don’t charge a fee, drop me a line.
I’ll let everyone know when I have more information!
Thanks again!
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Since it’s been a popular device as of late, today’s incentive sketch is a continuation of today’s strip. Click here to vote for Theater Hopper at buzzComix and to get another dose of some hard facts you don’t want to hear…
Today’s comic was pulled directly from the “It Happened To Us” file. Cami and I had gone to the early matinee of Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy and emerged into the blinding sun to discover an advertisement affixed to the drivers side rear-view mirror of my car.
The pisses me off for a myriad of reasons. Partially because I just got out of a movie where I was held as a captive audience to commercials for Coke and Calvin Klein jeans projected on-screen before the trailers! But mostly I’m irked because finding this piece of paper on my windshield means SOMEBODY TOUCHED MY CAR!!!
You don’t touch another man’s car. That’s common knowledge.
Actually, what cheeses me off the most is that when you’re first walking out of the theater, you’re on a bit of an emotional high. If the movie was good, that is. You’re strolling into the parking lot, talking about what you just watched. Laughing at lines in the movie you found funny. Generally reflecting on the good time you had.
Then you walk up to your car and it’s… “Huh?! Lose weight now… ASK ME HOW?!”
It yanks you right out of that happy place and puts you right on doorstep of Life’s petty annoyances. The things you went to the movie theater to ESCAPE FROM! And thus, this is why – in my universe – Reality is depicted as a bitter, old man waiting for you to turn around so he can slap you square across the face.
Of course, my first reaction is to dial the number left behind on the garishly pink slip of paper and to bitch out the first person who picks up the phone.
But then cooler heads prevail and reason starts to take hold. That’s when it dawns on you that – legally – these advertisers don’t have the right to leave things on your car without the permission of the property-holder. In this case, the charming Wynnsong theater.
So now your second reaction is to storm back into the theater and cram the piece of paper into the mouth of the first manager you’re put in front of.
But then you think about all those outstanding warrants you have and decide, “Eh. Probably for the best if I don’t add another one to the list.”
Ultimately, in a subtle form of protest, you toss the piece of paper on the ground like so much litter for some overworked, underpaid 15 year-old to sweep up on a slow day.
I don’t understand why this is an acceptable way to treat your customers. It’s like they are actively trying to find new ways to put more advertising in front of us like it’s some kind of test. “How long will it take before they snap?” I swear, if I’m in the men’s room and they sneak a vinyl sticker advertising the next Hillary Duff movie under the toilet seat, you can bet I’m pissing all over it in a form of protest.
Maybe I’m taking all of this too seriously, but I view movie houses as temples. Shrine to pop culture. It upsets me to see these venues and their customers treated so shoddily. ‘Makes me long for the doe-eyed simplicity of a movie house like the one in The Majestic. One theater. One screen. Martin Landau is the projectionist that lives in an apartment above the venue and the theater is operated by a kindly cross-section of quirky individuals.
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