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Sunday, April 18, 2004

The other night I saw the Karate Kid on cable. It is hard to imagine that the movie is now 20 years old. I never saw it in the theatre actually, because the day we went I decided to go to another movie.
It was in the summer of 1984, and our family was over at a friend's house. We used to go over there all the time in those days. Our parents would do some heavy cocktailing, we'd grill some food, and inevitably they would give us kids some money to get out of the house for a couple of hours. So six of us kids would pile into the Ford Bronco and head over to the mall. At 11, I was the youngest in the group. My brother was 14, and then there were the two kids of my parents friends, who were 17 and 20. The 17 year old was a girl who had a couple of her friends along, and my brother and I were in love with them all.
When we arrived at the theatre we looked at all the movies and it was unanimously decided that we would go to The Karate Kid, but after looking at the showtimes more closely I decided it would be more fun to see Ghostbusters. When I mentioned this, everybody made fun of me. It was hard being made fun of by three teenage girls I was in love with, but I was quite determined to see Ghostbusters. They all veiwed me as a snot nosed little brat anyway, so I had nothing to lose. I went all by myself to Ghostbusters, while everyone else went to the Ralph Macchio vehicle. The thing about it was that I had already seen Ghostbusters, it was my second veiwing. My movie got out early and I had to wait for 15 minutes outside of the theatre for everyone else to come out and tell me how much of a fat nerd I was for going to a movie for a second time and missing the great movie they had just seen.
I of course eventually saw The Karate Kid on video many many times, and I love it, but the other day when I was watching it on cable I told my wife about how I blew it off in the theatre to see Ghostbusters again. She gave me a hug and assured me, "You made the right decision, honey." She's right! And after all these years I feel vindicated. I did make the right decision. Ghostbusters is way cooler than The Karate Kid.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

I have a difficult time coming up with entries--so what? I don't even get this whole blog thing in the first place. Wait a minute--web log--blog, oh yeah.
I'm very ignent in these happenings about technologies and stuff, yet I seem to be exactly what the future anthroplogists would want as a test subject to learn about our culture. No matter how hard I try to deny it I am merely a man of my times. Everything, including my manner of dress, my sense of humour, my need for beats per minute, and my fear of the apocalypse, is contained somewhere within a catalog of early 21st century historical trivia. That's what I tell myself everytime I see a comedy skit that was my idea.
I always wanted time travel to be true, so let's pretend that it does.
Remember when Justin Timberlake murdered that one chick? Oh yeah, allegedly, he murdered her. I guess we'll never know for sure since he killed himself.
That is what I want to see in the news, more murder suicides.

Sunday, April 11, 2004

My name is Frank, Frank Candor, and I tend to say whatever is on my mind regardless of the consequences, or the people I may offend. So if you get easily offended, I have these simple words for you, "Go fuck yourself, you politically correct robot of the masses, you make me sick. The fact that you would waste your time being haughty about what I say not only shows your own lack of creativity, but it actually offends me. I'm offended at your offense, and I demand reparations."
If you are not one of those people, welcome to my abode. We can have a lot of fun together. I have a good deal of soul for a white boy.
Let me tell you a little about myself. I am 31 years old, married, and I live in a city. Sometimes I drink to excess, and sometimes I go to work. I try not to work all too much. Usually I lay around watching the History Channel, or Vh1, or Comedy Central, or whatever. I like TV. I am a freak for science fiction in general, and I even write stories of my own on occasion. When I'm not lounging, I write songs, and stories, and go on bicycle rides and junk. I used to go out to the bars alot, but my misanthropic nature keeps me at home these days--besides I'm getting old, and I don't want to become that old guy loser I always used to see hanging out with all the kids at the rock shows. It's time for me to become responsible, dammit!
When I was 16 I was in a band. We played shows in our local midwest punk scene. Our band was a little different, for we tended to make softer, weepier music than our contemporaries. We were in love with Joy Division, Bauhaus, The Damned, and of course, The Cure. Ultra-fast tempo thrash just wasn't our gig, and our sensitivity and angst gave us the edge we needed to make all the 14 year old girls think we were cute. Before a gig I would have girls put on my make-up and rat my hair. It was heaven to me. It was my own private teenage spa. My dick was hard and I was happy. Later my parents had a heart attack when I showed up in my rock gear. I embarrassed them in front of their friends at a cocktail party. They thought I looked gay, and I guess that was a bad thing. Looking gay got me more female attention than anything else I ever tried. I finally had found my place in the world. I didn't have to live in the shadow of my athletic disinterest. Sports were on the way out. The new cool was to be nerdy, gay, and artistic. This was 1989, and I was on the edge of a great awakening. An incredible journey was set, and my bags were packed--and then the drugs came...

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