That's right. You read correctly. Here's a picture of me while this was going down:
Notice the devilishly serious look on my face. That is my "I'm going to molest you next" look. Yes... that means you.
I did this because April is, like, "Earth Month," featuring "Earth Day," "Earth Week," and all kinds of other communist plots, I am sure. Like, the plot to not lock Al Gore in a cell, for lying outright to the public on a constant basis about global climate change facts, and for leaving his hot ass wife.
How could you let this piece of ass get away, Al?!
Anyway, I don't really celebrate any Earth Day awareness stuff, both because I don't believe anywhere near half of the hype, and because recycling newspapers and glass bottles can actually be bad for the environment.
(Explanation: glass is made more cheaply and effectively new from one of the most abundant things on the surface of the earth (sand) than it is made from old glass dispersed far and wide across a nation. Recycling it is wasteful, as far as carbon emissions go. Paper recycling, when you take into account the extra carbon dioxide emitted driving to and fro to collect and consolidate the paper, the energy intensive process by which the paper is then recycled at a plant, and the effect of the extremely harsh chemicals used to extract inks and impurities from paper being recycled on the immediate environment, is no better, and arguably worse than, creating new paper with efficient tree farming and advanced paper production techniques) ..... (Unless people are willing to use paper which hasn't been entirely cleaned and bleached of ink and impurities. Recycling paper without cosmetic concern for the end product is, indeed, a better option, both financially and as it concerns the fate of the world's forests.)
Instead of Earth Month, I am having "Grown Men Can Get Molested, Too" month. Hopefully none of you men reading this are actually the victim of some kind of Deliverance rape scenario, either. (If you haven't seen Deliverance, close your web browser and don't come back until you have.) If you are, then you won't find "Grown Men Can Get Molested, Too" month nearly as light hearted and fancy free as the other readers.
This month, I want all of you grown men out there to get a rape whistle, and blow it loud and proud any time anyone even thinks about undressing you with their eyes. Make sure not to walk outside unless you are in a big group. Avoid getting black out drunk or wearing short skirts in the work place, and, generally, protect your nuts.
So you are wondering: what's my take-away on all of this? Let me lay it down for you:
1. Recycling is an industry, and people make money from it. They are driven by profit, which isn't bad, but they claim to be driven by some angelic benevolent love for mankind. That is fucking horse-shit. The only people who have time to come up with horse shit like this are rich fuckin' assholes like Al Gore, who burn more carbon in a year (after taking into account plane rides and heating his mammoth, stately castles, etc) than I probably will in a lifetime. Not all is as it seems when it comes to Earth Day. I just want you all to remember that.
2. Men can get molested too (by me.)
3. If you see me wearing my molestin' tie and pants (as pictured above) you had better run. If you can't get away, then at the very least, prepare your body.
Now, onto the next thing.
I was reveling in my melancholia when I wrote the post previous to this one. I suppose that is a necessary thing for someone like me. I don't think people eventually become great writers by reveling in their happy-go-lucky-lalia all of the time. And, I don't know if it is helping or not, but I have been reveling a lot lately in my genitalia (get it?)
Anyway, I wanted to say that I appreciated all of the comments that I received to the last post. Most of you had either kind or helpful words to say. So thanks. I know that, of late, I haven't really been responding to comments in the comments section as much, but I did take the time to respond to a few particular comments on that one (just before writing this post.) So check that out.
Next thing (a review)
Anyone who has been hanging around here long enough probably knows that I have this problem where I make my mind up about something before trying it. I don't know what it is about me. I suppose I am just, on some level, a horrible, horrible, conceited prick.
True to form, I had made up my mind about the film The Social Network before it even came out. I had made up my mind to not see it. Ever. Because my interest and respect for Facebook and its culture were already waning. Also: I had this deep-seated malice for Justin Timberlake's attempting to be an actor. Now, again, this is just a result of my gaping character flaws, I guess. Just because Mr. Timberlake was an integral part of the vast Viacom (owners of MTV) brainwashing machine for a decade when I was young doesn't necessarily preclude him from redemption. Nor does it preclude him from being a good actor. I guess I am just a little sensitive to people in show-biz because they are creating a world full of insufferable idiots for us to wade through on a daily basis.
Examples of my prejudice against the main-stream media include my pre-emptive judgment of the following pop-culture icons:
Kim Kardashian (is that how you spell that?)
Lil' Wayne (a rapper popular with the lobotomized.)
Ke$ha. Another popular "musician." Do you know that a "dollar sign" denotes something other than an "s," you empty meat hole?!?
Note: Those are the most flattering pictures I could find of those individuals.
Point is, I do this thing, and it usually helps to shelter me from the mental and spiritual poison that is the overt sexual propaganda machine relentlessly attacking all that is logical and good in the world today. But, occasionally, I miss out on a real gem because of my prejudice. Case in point: I never watched a single episode of Friends until a year ago, when I watched the whole series at my girlfriend's insistance. And I hated it a million times less than I thought I would. That Ross really cracks me up. A paleontologist! HA!
Ahhh. Memories. He feels like a long lost older brother to me.
So the lesson I am slowly learning is, I think, to trust my girlfriend when she recommends film or TV.
We recently added "DVD rentals" to our NetFlix package, and the first movie I put on the queue was The Social Network, because Jera was so excited to see it, even though I didn't want to. She was almost as insistant with this as she was with Friends. We watched the movie last night, and I was blown away by how wrong I had been. The Social Network is, in a few words, a wild ride, a visually engrossing piece of art, a deep analysis and commentary on the state of the world today, and, generally speaking, very smart, considering how well it did with the American public.
Of course, I already knew most of the Facebook story to begin with. But to see it all playing out on screen was just... different. It made it feel more real. The gravity of the plot line, and the gravity of Facebook on a conceptual level, didn't escape me throughout the movie. Whether any of us like to admit it or not, Facebook is a turning point in human history. To have known the inception of Facebook, for us, I think, is to have known a gigantic paradigm shift in human consciousness.
The thing about the movie that was most real to me was the dark tone set by the amazing soundtrack by Trent Reznor (of Nine Inch Nails fame) and Atticus Ross (an increasingly frequent collaborator with Mr. Reznor.) This soundtrack is the best I think I have heard since that of the first Matrix movie. Absolutely mind-bending. You will notice it on the right side of the blog under my "In My Ear Now" section. I recommend this non-lyrical score to anyone. Especially anyone who is a fan of Reznor's.
The acting was pretty good across the board. Mr. Timberlake's acting was good enough that I will think twice before writing off his next artistic endeavor as mere Hollywood claptrap.
Congrats, Justin. You've graduated from this:
... and in the future, I would be willing to take fashion advice from you in the form of GQ or Men's Health magazine interviews.
Also of note in The Social Network was the tremendous camera work. I felt that the camera angles frequently reflected, in a subtle way, the brooding aura of the main character and his headstrong push into the human unknown. It was things like this, the persistant dark-wooden color schemes of an unapologetically elitist Harvard, and the dark musical score that gave this movie an unmistakably intense feeling.
I am sure you all know what the movie is about, and most of you have probably already seen it, so I won't bore you with a bunch of details about it. I will just say that, for one reason or another, I found the movie to be chilling and moving. The commentary that the movie seemed to make is that, no matter how connected we become as a people, we can still create pockets of desperate loneliness for ourselves. Indeed, we can create this kind of desperation in our lives so well, sometimes, that no amount of money or pleasure or notoriety can really bring us out of it. The frightening thing, I think, is that we use increasing connectedness through technology as some kind of opiate against the pain of core loneliness. Facebook might be tricking us all into thinking we are surrounded by fantastic friends and yes men, but what if we look a little deeper? Is the social imperative inside our genetic memory being sated by these technologies?
Or do we just need to go out and fuckin' touch somebody?
I give this movie 5 Charles Heads. I almost never give out the full 5. See this movie, and experience it in its totality. Don't think too hard about the story, and don't think about your own Facebook page and Facebook experience the whole time. Un-focus yourself, disassociate a little bit, and let everything about this film as a piece of art and social critique hit you at once.
5 Charles Heads!
A poem for the road.
© 2011 Charles M Emerson III
Tell me what you thought of The Social Network. Tell me what you think about me molesting men twice my age. Tell me whatever.