November 23, 2010 § Leave a comment
High School Musical 3 follows Troy and Gabriella and company through their senior year of high school, ending with a heart-touching (not) number about how, even though the former classmates are traveling to opposite ends of the country to pursue their personal goals and dreams, they’ll remain friends forever. Millions of kids sat through those 90 minutes and likely believed every word of it I. I’m guessing that the few adults who attended either criticized the entire time or submitted themselves to 1.5 musical, colorful hours of the willful suspension of disbelief. Through this movie, Disney seems to be claiming that friends are forever. At least, they are in Hollywood. In front of the camera, never behind.
Even though life doesn’t usually work out that way, people still like to hope that it will. In my opinion, that hope is a big part of the reason HSM3 made $16.5 million on its opening day. Granted, a lot of the income was from elementary and junior high girls who just wanted to see Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens sing and dance. But I’d venture to argue that part of the appeal is the message that the movie portrays: the message that friends are fairy-tale quality and that all the people you like will like you back and that those you love will never leave your side.
As we grow up, we learn that this isn’t the case and that life is hardly a Disney movie. But we still like to dream. So I paid my $8 and sat through all the catchy songs and Zanessa nonsense and realized that, even though I was cynically criticizing the characters for claiming they would always be together, they were all doing and saying exactly what I had done and said. I used to have that same hope. As a kid, every time I met a new set of friends I thought, “these will be my buddies forever.” I was always wrong. At first it depressed me, because I missed my friends. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that an ideal social situation is not the one advertised at the end of HSM3, because for that scenario to work, time would have to freeze. But like it or not, we can’t stay in high school forever. (Thank god.) Life is constantly, fluidly moving forward and hence so must be our circles of friendship.
You get friends specific to your location and circumstance, and when either or both of those things changes, so does your peer group. The change isn’t a bad thing — in fact, if you were forced to drag the same set of friends through all of your life’s changes your social life could get unreasonably tiresome. In other words, “We’re all in this together” may be sung with jubilation at the beginning of high school, but its an anthem of doom to adult life.
November 22, 2010 § 2 Comments
Joking about terrible diseases is a terrible thing to do, because thousands of people worldwide are afflicted with, debilitated from, and killed by the horrendous maladies so unfortunately ubiquitous amongst mankind. But for some reason, making fun of these illnesses is one of the funniest jokes available. I watched a show on MTV with some of my friends called “True Life,” a show that finds kids with some kind of defect and follows them around for a couple weeks documenting their difficult life. This particular episode was about a couple of kids who suffered from Tourettes Syndrome. The show incited disgust and sympathy amongst my friends, but that is as far as our benefactorial spirits would take us. The remainder of the weekend was not spent raising support money for Tourrettes research or thanking god that True Life isn’t making episodes about us; rather, it was spent jokingly excusing every fumble with “I have Tourettes.” It was funny, and it never got old. (And believe me, there was a lot of stumbling and tripping and dropping things that summer weekend.) We probably could have marketed our own show — “True Life: We’re Horribly Insensitive But We Don’t Care.”
But I don’t think are actions are as disrespectful as they first appear. True, no healthy person should mock another less healthy person. But I think laughing about it is partially a cover up of our fear that it could happen to us. Additionally, speaking lightheartedly about evil traumas is our own way of celebrating the fact that we don’t have that disease. Everyone’s going to die someday of one thing or another, so while we’re healthy we eat drink and merrily mock those not so fortunate. Because soon enough, karma will catch up and it will be our turn to fall.
November 20, 2010 § Leave a comment
So there’s this kiddie show called “Charlie and Lola.” It’s about these two little 2D cartoon British kids who go around doing ordinary daily things like eating and schoolwork and recycling newspapers to save the earth. For some reason, little kids love it. The show, while mundane, has a unique charm, and I have at times been drawn in if not by the cute characters than by the effect of a well-turned British phrase on a case of sheer boredom. (“I feel absolutely completely dreadful, Chawlie!”)
While I was watching one day, Charlie and Lola were enjoying their afternoon snack: biscuits (that’s the British word for cookie) and milk. PINK milk. Pink milk is their favorite.
Why do little kids love turning food wrong colors? For some reason, it’s fun for them. Breakfast cereal, candy, juice, jelly, you name it — people marketing to younguns make sure its sopping with Red #40 and Blue #5. If you don’t believe me, check the grocery store. And then when people graduate from childhood and get their I-Am-Now-Officially-A-Boring-Adult diploma they suddenly think wrongly-colored food disgusting. Instead of Fruit Loops they eat Raisin Bran without the raisins and and the Frosted Flakes without the frosting and Lucky Charms without the lucky or the charms.
I dare you to re-release your inner child and put food coloring in everything you eat and drink for an entire day, and enjoy it. Pink milk. Absolutely and completely charming, Chawlie.
November 19, 2010 § Leave a comment
I’ve discovered the ultimate cop-out. Here it is.
Seriously, use it for anything — If someone tells you you’re a jerk, if you’re having a bad day, if you yell for no reason, if you crash your car — anything bad you do can be excused with those two little words. Think of any bad thing you could do that would not be absolved with that statement. Maybe you’re offended by this post. Maybe it seems sacrilegious, or disrespectful, or contrary to your beliefs or maybe it offends your lacking sense of humor. But I don’t care, and it really doesn’t matter what you think anyway. Because, well….
November 13, 2010 § Leave a comment
I think it all boils down to the fact that humans thrive on similarity, and pain is something we, unfortunately but universally, share.
My second hypothesis is that as subjects of occasionally awful luck we like to watch karma dish itself out once in a while onto other people’s heads. It is under this assumption that America’s Funniest Home Videos has made a fortune and aired for years. For the sympathetic soul, watching it is half cringing, half laughing. Haha their ATV tipped over, haha they fell through the trampoline, haha they slipped on the bathroom floor, haha they crashed into a window, haha haha haha haha! That looked like it hurt. Hahahahaha!!!
Most of the humor in The Three Stooges is slapstick comedy of the hammers-dropped-on toes variety. So is the humor in Bugs Bunny. Disney’s Pinocchio falls down the stairs. In the Home Alone movies, the bad guys get bricks dropped on their faces, step on nails, and get their hair set on fire. None of these instances are meant to satisfy sadistic urges or model behaviors; they are intended to make people laugh. And I think the reason it makes us laugh is that it reminds us of ourselves. We make mistakes all the time and so, while it feels almost wrong to laugh at this type of entertainment, in reality we are really only laughing at ourselves. So watch the stooges guilt-free and laugh until you pee your pants, because there really isn’t any substitute for vicarious tomfoolery.
A comedian died last night, Rorschach (Watchmen) says. But his death, though tragic, was a comedic act in itself, for every brutal tragedy invents another shade on the comedic color wheel to add to the ironic palette of humor.