In a fit of peak’ed pique I peeked at Netflix, renewing for the billionth time a subscription. Every time I have broken off with Netflix there have been hard feelings, we have not “just remained friends”; I’ve been the no account rat bastard ex and Netflix has been that blood sucking whore. Yes, I’m prone to hyperbole.
I think the last time I left Netflix was with an angry email. I had streamed Caligula and they had redacted all the sex and violence. Double Ewe Tee Eff? There is no movie without the sex and violence. A few decades ago a network channel had run Blue Collar (Richard Pryor, Harvey Keitel, and some other guy like those two) and had edited the cussing. Every third word in the Network version was Mommy-Jumper.
What on earth would have me reconcile with Netflix? A few years back they took the logical step of producing their own shows. I really liked Orange is the New Black, but I liked it from — um — sources other than Netflix. Hulu I had broken up with in one of those It’s not you it’s me let’s be friends kind of break which really means You Repulse me. I needed my legit-OTC- itch scratched and Netflix was the way to do it. It’s not like I gave them a ring or anything, it’s an open relationship, and they can see other customers and I can make booty calls for streaming at two in the morning.
As silly and over-played as the concept is, I’m kind of digging Hemlock Grove. It reminds me more of Twin Peaks than, say, twilight, though character wise it’s more like twilight if anyone actually got laid in twilight or any of the supernatural blood thirsty fiends in twilight actually did anything blood thirsty or fiendish.
I don’t know, the song below is truncated, but it’s part of the appeal of hemlock grove; I like the soundtrack.
Oh, hey, yeah, I went to see Guardians of the Galaxy last night because it’s the sort of thing that needs to be seen on the big screen. The theatre has these really fancy Coke machines that give you the option of adding flavors. For instance; I got the ginger ale, I had the option of adding cherry, vanilla, orange and … shit, I don’t remember, but every drink was like that. You could even do like vanilla root beer. If you like sci-fi action/adventure/comic book sort of movies, and I do, you’ll love Guardians. I understand I might be the last person in the world who likes that stuff who hadn’t seen it yet. But, if, perhaps, say, you are, then go the fuck right now. Oh, and, um, lime ginger ale? Not as good as it sounds, but it’s like a train wreck, you can’t stop drinking it. Heh. I crack me up.
An old student of my dad’s stopped by this morning to offer condolences. It was kind of cool. Some of his ex-students who’ve kept in touch for decades are douche bags. This guy isn’t. I realize that doesn’t sound like much of a recommendation, but, look around, not being a douche-bag is becoming a rare commodity. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice work if you can get it, but, unfortunately, douche-bag isn’t really a literal — um, it’s not a job description. Asshole either. Assholes are rather benign compared to people who are referred to as assholes. Actual assholes perform a function that no other body part wants, and do it with relatively little complaint and relative grace and elegance (well, imagine if the knee was in charge of waste disposal/removal — awkward and kvetch kvetch kvetch. Just sayin’.) As far as work environments go douche bags have pretty plush digs, assholes not so much. I’m sure both places are nice places to throw a party, but I have my proclivities and I’m sticking to them.
Ok, I’m so far off the reservation I either need to run or try to pass. TTIT (Thank Thanos it’s Thursday, or a typo for tit).
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