Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Me and Roger

Well, I'm officially unsettled. It's not like I didn't have a storm cloud or two lingering over my clunking cranium, but thanks to Michael Moore's freshman film I'm now inundated with thoughts of socio-economic doom. Ugh. So I'm going to seem much like the pastel-clad blue-haired ladies teeing off at the private club in the movie, but I'd like every now and then to smile, and I just can't when I'm made aware of the tragic moral incongruities that prevail thanks to money-grubbing corporate-types all over the world and not just in Flint, Michigan. I still don't understand how Michael Moore can fake a smile unless he's being smug or mischievous at the expense of the "establishment." (I put that in quotations, or as they appear when gestured, "bunny foo-foos," because I think the establishment is almost as much the anti-establishment as anything else nowadays. I mean, seriously. I feel like a rebel being religious in today's climate. That's right, bring the "man" down! . . . that he may humble.) :)

Anyway, I ate a Jell-O cup and some Triscuits so I'm cool. Er, except for that seething sensation in my stomach . . . (Don't I end most every post w/ some kind of bowel dysfunction? Patterns are our friends!)

3 comments:

  1. Hehe, I pictured you maniacally typing so fast that your fingers disappeared and your eyes protruded from your head by half an inch . . . Hhahaahahah! You crack me up, sistah.

    I, frankly, used to think ill of Michael Moore, but whatever acclaim I begrudged him I'm more willing to rescind now that I've witnessed his "honesty."

    Film folk will know and readily testify that no one can make a truly objective film. You cannot shoot "reality," (thus my gripe with reality television). So anyone suggesting that Michael Moore should do more to show "both sides" is suggesting that we tell a kettle that calls itself black to go grey.

    I appreciate the fact that, when you watch a M.M. movie, as I'll call them, oooh or an M to the M movie, you're not in the dark as to the director's feelings, motivations, etc. even if you've been living in the Basque region of Spain w/o a television or newspaper and think Michael Moore is the expatriate guy running a cheap necklace shop for tourists
    down the street.

    As you're watching, Moore is very clear in his designs, whether you appreciate them or not. In my newly personal opinion, Moore promotes thinking, at least awakens an audience. Watching crap like Shark Tale will not accomplish this, but retard the process considerably. Considering how deep the chain of deception goes in our own government, it's nice to know someone is rattling things every now and then. Hurrah, Mr. Moore.

    (Just don't ask me to eat much after watching . . .)

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  2. I'm only guessing the previous tirade distended from personal disdain and not out of concern for my political leanings; if you know me you'd understand I don't take ANYTHING w/o a generous dollop of salt (and sometimes other spices).

    I'd have to say that I'm almost resenting the fact that you think I could be anyone's puppet. Now, if Michael Moore were a woman exuding oodles of vulnerability, tenderness, and had big, brown eyes and a cute behind I'd follow him anywhere, but that's another issue. (Sorry, I caught just enough of Roswell to get sucked into the black-hole vortex that is romantic television teen angst.)

    Anyway, I only get swept up by Michael Moore's movies because I see ancient America parallels, a la The Book of Mormon, especially in "Me and Roger," and not so much the snippets I saw of Bowling for Columbine. I'm already anti-guns, anti-materialism, etc. w/o needing inspiration from a man who clearly needs a new look.

    Come to think of it I'm more influenced by programming not meant to teach/influence but entertain, so what's more perilous?

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  3. Bah. I just don't feel like anyone deserves being assaulted, even if they're as bonkers as Michael Moore. Since he's probably too busy to defend himself, I'll act as stand in . . .

    Maybe I'm a devil's advocate. Er, I know I've got the devil's part down . . .

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