Week 17: Waiting For Guffman

Dear Avid Reader,

I kind of enjoy getting behind and cranking 'em out. Gives me some energy.

Tricked you!

D'Artagnan! How Dare You Talk To Me Like That, You!

In Waiting for Guffman, people are center stage. Literally. Oh I kill myself sometimes. What wit! But seriously.

Folks are weird. They are. They're unaware of how truly funny, cruel, or stupid they are. Guffman how truly self-centered we all are is laid bare for the audience. The humor comes from how discompassionate the characters are toward each other. And isn't that what living is all about? My crap is grander than your crap. Let's talk about it. Over Facebook.

This is turning into another romp into zaniness. The center refuses to hold.

Like How Many Babies Fit In A Tire, You Know, That Old Joke

Guffman. Right. Guffman. The flick doesn't hold up after the twentieth viewing. The fact that I didn't enjoy the movie this time around probably has something to do with the fact that I'm watching it alone. The happiest I've been watching this movie is college. All me friends huddled around a TV...laughing...quoting lines. Nostalgia. It can make one sad. Curse you nostalgia!

Great. Now I feel wistful, but in a bad way. I'm not sure why romanticizing the past is so easy. I mean it's just like the present but you already know the ending. That of course is the whole problem I suppose. The current chapter of life hasn't finished, and that's scary. It could be a heart-warming family movie, or a horror, or a tragedy, but it's never known until it's in the rearveiw. This is bumming me out.

But I continue!

I Got Off That Boat With Nothing But My Dancers Belt And A Tube Of Chapstick

Something in the mind nudges belief about the future into negative or positive shades. Those who tend to color with the poo-poo brush are usually cooler. This is a fact. But why be a hip cynic? "Because it feels truer" says the person with black fingernails. Well I say screw that pal! Everything is great or everything is terrible, either way you're lying. Why not pick the one that feels good?

And that's what the characters in Guffman do. The fact that they will never be revered artists doesn't faze them. They plug along. And they are happy to be diluted. Who cares about the truth when my fantasy is so much better?

Ignorance is truly bliss. So don't freak out if I point at your smart phone and scream, "Witch". I'm just following my bliss.

Until Next I Blog,

James