Storage Wars (TV EDITION)

It is common practice to sit back straight thumbs up after having your wisdom teeth removed. If you lay down on your back, the blod clots at the excavation sites could come loose and choke you to death. As you lay on the ground writhing for oxygen amidst the congealed blood stuck in your windpipe, you can't help but think, "Was it worth it all?" Well, I have no reason to even contemplate this future for myself because I am quite content sitting straight up. I am watching one of the most important shows of our generation, some would call it the televisual equivalent of Born to Run. This show is, of course, Storage Wars.

I've never reviewed a TV show before. This is new, unexplored territory like the Falkland Islands or a Black Hole. This show, a partially scripted, partial reality program follows five different entrepreneurs as they navigate the ever shifting roads of abandoned storage unit auctions. These people are Dave Hester, the son of a bitch who is often portrayed as the antagonist. If this were a movie about friends reuniting after a long period of time, Dave would definitely be the friend who sold out early on in his life to work for his girlfriend's father at the local car dealership. He is confrontational and flaunts his arrogant personality. There is Jarrod and Brandi, the young couple who constantly argue like a pair of old farts. This couple brings the much needed sexual tension to an already masculine dominated show. I'm almost certain that after a long day of bidding at auctions, Brandi rocks Jarrod's world. Just saying, she seems like kind of a sloot. Then we have Darrell, a big neo-Nazi looking goon. Actually, Darrell seems like a hooker with a heart of gold, except this hooker is actually a former Hell's Angel. Every time you see Darrell at an auction, you want him to just go ape shit and start beating someone's face in, but he doesn't because he would go to prison for breaking his probation. Finally, we have my personal favorite: Barry Weiss. This man is the pimp daddy of storage warriors. He is an old geezer whose age is actually yet to be determined. He acts like a wise guy and he talks like a 30 year old porn star. He is the kind of guy who shows up to an auction with Kenny Roger's son just for shits and giggles. I bet he pounds girls 10 years younger then him on the regular. I wouldn't be surprised if Brandi and Barry don't smash after the cameras turn off.

I do take some problems with the show, however. After every storage unit is sold and the items inside are inspected, the warriors take their special pieces to different authorities to figure out a price. Whenever they visit these experts, the price given is added to the total value the warrior has made from the storage unit. Whenever the expert gives a price range, the higher of the two prices are added to the value. Sometimes the ranges are as big as $400-$700 and the $700 is the added value. THIS IS HORSESHIT! What happens if the prospective buyer only gives $400? Then that means the warrior doesn't make a $350 profit off of the $350 storage unit he bought; it only means he made a $50 profit. This is outlandish. If anyone understood what I just wrote, you are not outlandish. What is outlandish?

Also, rumors have spread that producers plant special items in the storage units to give the show more appeal or allow for more opportunities to cut to commercial break with a cliffhanger. And guess what, Estonia? I don't believe a single rumor. America has a collective of crazy people who hoard crazy shit in their storage lockers and forget about them. I mean, seriously, can't someone collect hood ornaments worth thousands of dollars and not remember that they are in there? 

Well, time for another Vicodin fix. Bye.

Swingers (Special Wisdom Teeth Edition)

The relationship culture of contemporary times has changed greatly from the courteous, chivalrous courtings of early man. Back in the day, men would give gifts and offer sacrifices to the gods in exchange for the hand of a woman (or young girl) in marriage. This symbolized the great debt to which they owed the gods for the love of such a fine lady. Once the man owned the lady, he would entrust her with his estate. She became the housewife, the landlady, the keeper of the castle. Then when the man died, she would thrust herself onto the pyre and take her own life so that she could be with the man she loved, both in life and in death. Today's romance culture is all about getting it in. You go out to a bar and find the drunkest girl at the party and try to get some. If you're lucky, she brings a friend a long. For the dude or girl looking for something a little more longer lasting, you get their phone number and text them at odd hours of the night with phrases like "You up?" "Come over and say hi" "I'm so bored" "Maybe we should chill in a little". As I sit on my couch, generic store brand peas strapped to my balloon cheeks and apple sauce drizzling down the front of my shirt, I wonder what my wisdom teeth are doing right now? Are they happy now that they can live a life of freedom, maybe see the world, maybe catch a movie? Do they miss me? Is I a good mouth? How long does Vicodin last? Is it easy to obtain? But these are merely the questions of children. The real question is "How good is Swingers?" The answer, faithful plebeians, is money.
What can be said about Doug Lyman's Swingers? To say that it sparked a cult following is not enough. To say that it embodies the spirit of every young man trying to make it big is not enough. Swingers is a film about growth, redemption, and the power of a strong personality. Mike (Jon Favreau) and Trent (Vince Vaughn) are two 20 something unemployed actors trying to make it big in Los Angeles. Along with their friends Rob (Ron Livingston), Sue (Patrick Van Horn), and Charles (Alex Desert), the group chugs their way along the nightlife of L.A. in search of parties, "beautiful babies", and stardom. Mike is coming out of a difficult relationship and always brings his troubles with him to parties. This makes for some very funny moments including one scene in which he leaves twenty disturbing messages on a woman's answering machine. Filled with themes that strike at any rising star's heart, Swingers is a movie for the ages.
This movie is so exceptional because of its dialogue. The ways in which Trent tries to explain the female persona or the proper way in which to return a girl's phone call are mesmerizing. Vince Vaughn is perfect for this role and his future roles are clearly building of his role as Trent. Jon Favreau plays an excellent Mike. Mr. Favreau is an actor whose droopy, affected voice screams Mommy problems. He is a scarred man and he plays it nicely. (WHAT A GREAT FUCKING REVIEW SO FAR!)
But there is an oasis in the desert of despair and that is The Dresden. Located in L.A. on some fuckin street, The Dresden is the hangout for the group. After a night of rejection and piss, this is the one place the group can retire to and feel like royalty. Of course, it is full of old people, but that does not tarnish the feeling the group gets when they enter.
I love this movie because it ends on such a good note. The kind of note you get when you know that shit has been going on all day, but something happens and you just finally figure out it will end up good. It's that kind of note. Yeah, that kind of note. Well, I have totally forgotten what I'm writing about. Oh, yeah Swingers. Good movies, check it out. Really low budget film, but it's got a deep message. Keep your friends close, but keep your friends closer.

Midnight in Paris

Woody Allen's latest film (well not latest, he does have a new Italian movie coming) Midnight in Paris has proven to me a fact that I now find immutable and it will come to the dislike of engineers, biologists, chemists, biochemists, chemical engineers, and biochemical engineers of the world. The plain and simple truth is that the arts matter. So what if great literature can't save a mother of two from breaking both arms? Who cares that Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro didn't stop that dude from having sex with a monkey and making AIDS a real thing? Would Norman Rockwell's Reading in Bed have actually cured Christopher Reeve's paralyzation? The answer to all of those questions is absolutely not (I hope so at least). And now the eyes are rolling on every reader of this blog as questions arise like "Yeah! But what the fuck does a painting have to do with a bodily function!?!?" or "How can you even compare the two, you fucking moron?!?!?" And my answer to that is EXACTLY! You can't compare the two because they have their own realms of possibility in our world. Could Robert Jarvik make The Shawshank Redemption? No, but he made the artificial heart and that is damn impressive. The Shawshank Redemption, and Norman Rockwell's paintings, and Mozart's music all have their contributions to society as well. They give some enjoyment to the boring, monotonous cycle we call life. How often do you listen to music when you study for a test? How many times do you put the TV on while you're doing homework? Suck it Charlie! This is damn good writing now!
Midnight in Paris tells the story of screenwriter Gil (Owen Wilson) who is visiting Paris with his fiance (Rachel McAdams) and her parents. Feeling unfulfilled with his style of writing, Gil decides to walk around Paris in the evening alone and without a guide. During one midnight walk, Gil is approached by an antique car where the occupants invite him in. Little does Gil know, he has stepped into a time machine and is driven back to 1920's Paris. There he runs into the artist powerhouses of the era including Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, and Gertrude Stein. Through his repeated interactions with The Greats, Gil becomes a more competent and impressive writer.
I was a big fan of Whatever Works because of its message: do what makes you happy. But Midnight in Paris gives an even simpler, and quite frankly much less original , moral in a far more entertaining way: be happy with what you have. Gil's mortal flaw is that he can't find happiness in his own time period and that is what drives him to the 1920s every night. But when he is transported back to the 19th century one night, he realizes that there is more to life then just pleasing yourself. I run the risk of sounding corny, but the grass does seem greener on the other side. It is Woody Allen's twisted, neurotic humor that contorts that age old adage into something that can be appreciated in our contemporary time.
Gil asks Ernest Hemingway to read his manuscript and Hemingway replies "I hate it". When Gil mentions that Hemingway never even read it, Hemingway declares "if it's bad, I'll hate it. If it's good, then I'll be envious and hate it even more. You don't want the opinion of another writer". I see this as the relationship between the humanities and the sciences and mathematics. Neither wants to admit the other sometimes makes a good point, a lot like Democrats and Republicans.  A mutual respect needs to begin to develop between the two disciplines. This is not a pro-art blog, nor is it an anti-everything else blog. I am pro-human. Now everyone hug.