club \â€™kleb\ 1: an association of persons participating in a plan by which they agree to make regular payments or purchases 2: to beat or strike with a heavy weapon
I am afraid of the Columbia House compact disc club.
The scariest thing about the Columbia House compact disc club is that even before â€œthe evil record and tape peopleâ€ (whose business cards were changed back in â€™91 to â€œthe evil compact disc peopleâ€) have started to suck you into their world of never-ending reply cards, check off boxes and glossy magazines touting â€œthis monthâ€™s special artist,â€ youâ€™re already their bitch.
Sometimes, it’s not the most positive experience when you realize that your life and an actual motion picture are, in fact, one in the same.
There were times, over the years, when these realizations were less than flattering. From coming to the conclusion that, yes, the entire mini-storyline of Stand By Me, with the kid in the pie-eating contest and the throwing up and the, yes you get the idea… to The Godfather 1 & 2, with the way in which my childhood was controlled by a god-father of sorts, with rules about bedtimes and who I could associate myself with… Well, you get the idea.
But how could I scoff at the moment when my life and a $154 million dollar, 4-day grossing blockbuster movie like Revenge of the Sith finally crossed paths? When the two resembled each other more than a pair of twins, or two life-savers from the same roll of candy. The moment of realization that your life is just like a George Lucas’ penned movie can be a startling and nerve-wracking moment, but if his creation can reap the riches of a small third-world country… Then so can mine.
But how, you ask. How is your life just like Revenge of the Sith? How is a movie that takes place in “a galaxy far, far away” anything like your Los Angeles existence. How could you post anything about Star Wars after weeks of publicity that’s giving us all a headache?
I do what I gotta do, people.
It’s true. I am faster than my computer.
No matter how amazing the technological improvements become, no matter how blindingly-fast the processors are, no matter how lightning-quick the button-pressing, key hitting and internal system clocks can be — I am still faster than any computer on the face of the Earth (past, present or future).
No, no, no, no, no. My brain cannot computate a million mathematical processes in thirty seconds flat. No, I cannot render effects on a video clip within a minute. No, I cannot multi-task between twelve programs, all doing computations and other complicated mathematical equations.
Imagination Danger 911!
It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Makes you sort of think about your own imagination, how sometimes it can be dangerous, and then I threw in a number associated with danger — 911! (Sometimes I’m giddy with excitement at the cleverness spilling forth from this here dangnabit head of mine.)
What is Imagination Danger 911!?
Well, it’s many things. It’s a board game. A t-shirt. A beach blanket. A drink cozy. A rallying cry. A bowl of hummus. A plastic Slinky. A boar’s head. A supplemental sheet of some kind with lots of Excel like boxes on it. But above all, it’s a state of mind.
(Insert sizzling sound here. In fact, if you can make that sound for me, and you do, and you actually REALLY DO make that sound, please make sure I know that you’ve been so dedicated to the process in the comments section. Really. Maybe you’ll win a ham or something.)
(Insert crackling sound here. See above for extra details.)
Fire was invented some time ago. A really long time ago some have said. There was a point where there was no fire, then suddenly, FIRE! It was like the moment before those people on Survivor had no fire and then they rubbed some sticks together and crack! Fire.