Friday, October 31, 2008

Did I fall or was I pushed?

Friday, October 31, 2008
It lurks, this thing. Just fucking sits there while I'm watching yet another video tangentially connected to my soon to tragically end, favourite soap opera in the history of the world. I feel empty inside at the end of each Daily Show these daily weekday days, and that's when I notice that tab up there, the Stranded on Gaia one that we all have on our Firefoxes. Lurking, the cunt.

I have plenty to write about. My life is packed with incident. Incident after fucking incident. But what care you, or indeed I, of a grey sky that matches yet enhances the dubious beauty of Dublin's oldest and newest buildings? Not a fucking jot. And who wants to hear of the glistening arms of Zac Efron and the interminable nature of High School Musical 3: The Quickening? Not me. Not you. Perhaps you folks yearn for a line or two around this week's homesick alien moment? How I was transported to a different time and place, a white place of perfect blinding nothingness, where I was finally freed from this weight of terror that hangs so heavy on my soul? Pale and probed, I returned and sickened to be back. No? Nor I, nor I.

High School Musical it is.

It never looked like ending, this plotlessly life-affirming, character-free epic. And so it seems reasonable to assume that it never did. I am still there, in all likelihood, shifting in my chair, and hoping beyond hope that Data, filled full of Fanta as she is, will need, just one more time, to take a bathroom break. The typing that I do now is but a dream, images projected by my subconscious mind in a desperate attempt to distract from the reality of my having to spend the rest of this hopefully short life watching a tertiary sequel to a pair of straight -to-video vats of nastiness.

I cannot take another song. These songs, they keep on fucking coming. They all sound the same, these songs, they all look the same. It may just be the same song, over and over and over again. Duet, group bit. Duet, group bit. I can tell the difference only by the number of people on the screen. This song, this single song, this soon to be ten singles song, is not a good song. It is a bad song. I do not like it. I want to die.

But when there is no singing, there is no plot where the plot should be. Nothing's fucking happening. Where are the teen pregnancies? Is the story not set in America? It's senior year. Why is nobody drunk at this party? Where are all the fucking drugs? Why the fuck is nothing fucking happening? It doesn't have to be Elephant, or even Dazed and Confused, (though it should be Dazed and Confused, why isn't it Dazed and Confused? I'm dazed and confused by its not being Dazed and Confused) but any slight, virtually imperceptible nod to the human condition would bring me much relief. Folks, I get no such nod.

Yes, the children love it. Of course they love it. It is made for them. It is designed to turn them happily into willing servants of The Man, believers in the holy trinity of The Banal, The Brand and The Bland. Servants who already raise their eyes to heaven at any slight suggestion that the entire High School Musical phenomena might be morally bankrupt. I'll learn them. Learn them all the way to their putting me in a home, nappied up, with peeling paint and dodgy drugs. This is what High School Musical 3 is to me, a long, lonely, helpless death, lacking in revelation or dignity. This is all I have look forward to as I squirm, once more, in my seat.

Go see! Go see and I'll doubtlessly see you there.

12 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

pipecock said...

i'm so glad my son loves Kraftwerk live DVDs and Godzilla flicks!

savannah said...

i am so glad my children are old! xoxo

Medbh said...

Now that's love, Gimme.
And you didn't even sneak on your ipod to stave the artery hardening effect of the saccharine tunes.

stipes said...

do you know that 90% of the population under 10 adore HSM
Could you not think of the children for once

stipes said...

As for your q?
You fell

Conan Drumm said...

It's Fame! for the Barney generation, and the most profitable (ie exploitable) property currently being milked by the Mouse Corporation.

ps... you jumped.

gimme a minute said...

I need to get me one of those son things.

I'm happy for you. Jealous, but happy for you.

I wanted to be able to speak with authority on this cornerstone of modern cinematic history.

Your comments are taking on an increasingly snide tone.

I like it.

I did jump.

What are we talking about again?

savannah said...

to temper your jealousy, they are old, but working and can't come out to help me. so, i'm stuck packing this house up by myself with just a couple of girlfriends who stop by to pack a box or 2...and it all has to be done by 1400hrs, nov.5th. xoxox

enjoy your movie ;-)

emordino said...

> straight-to-video

In point of fact, the first two films were DCOMs (Disney Channel Original Movies).

I have a friend who works part-time in The Disney Store. Or should I say, she, as a "cast member," is "on stage" part-time.

Yes. It is a creepy place.

gimme a minute said...

Thank you for polyfillaing up that gap in my pop culture education.

Is there a high suicide rate among Disney 'cast members'?

emordino said...

I'm sure they frown on that sort of thing. I imagine what would happen is they get someone else to start dressing up like you and anyone who asks too many questions is quietly neutralised.

gimme a minute said...

It's funny cause it's most likely true.

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