*Thanks to Dr. Hughes for breaking out the I-phone
11 on. No cover. See you there.
Just got a fresh Mitt Romney. ASSIMILATE. INFILTRATE. DESTROY!
From Jacques Audiard, the director of “The Beat That My Heart Skipped.” If you haven’t seen it, go check it out before it leaves the theaters.
It’s a masterpiece, easily of the best films I’m seen in the last decade and I’m a couple of thumbs short on being able to give this a proper review. Yes, it’s that good.
When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,
a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.
And all the birds in the trees, well they’d be singing so happily,
joyfully, playfully watching me.
But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible,
logical, responsible, practical.
And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,
clinical, intellectual, cynical.
There are times when all the world’s asleep,
the questions run too deep
for such a simple man.
Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned
I know it sounds absurd
but please tell me who I am.
Now watch what you say or they’ll be calling you a radical,
liberal, fanatical, criminal.
Won’t you sign up your name, we’d like to feel you’re
acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable!
At night, when all the world’s asleep,
the questions run so deep
for such a simple man.
Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned
I know it sounds absurd
but please tell me who I am.
Do you like me? Do you think I’m pretty? Will you love me like my daddy didn’t? If not, I can totally get plastic surgery and make an asshole of myself on national TV for you. And if that’s not enough, I can also sacrifice my pride, personal relationships, first born and soul. Won’t you please make me famous and save me from a life of mundanity and anonymity?
Does the aforementioned rant sound anything like the running monologue in your head? Are your knees bloody from constantly giving Blow J’s to “all the right people?” Or perhaps this reads like the silent battle cry of someone you know, a distant cousin maybe, or a friend of a friend?
If so, you and/or this certain someone might be suffering from a condition known to some Los Angeles psychiatric professionals as Hollywood NOS, and I highly recommend you take a break from looking around to see who’s watching you read this (Is anybody reading this? Do they like it? Do they like me? Gosh, I sure hope so.) and check out this dope article from Sunday’s L.A. Times on the dope so many sad souls in this city are addicted to, validation.
