Welcome back to school, everybody. If you read this space in the Cardinal last semester, you may remember me as a shameless hater with a Bruce Springsteen obsession often bordering on masturbatory. Those characterizations are indeed still accurate, but this semester I plan to convey such thoughts through a series of predetermined subtopics. My hope is that it makes my writing more enjoyable to read (Note: It’s also because I’m too lazy to synthesize an original column topic every week). We’ll call it the “Wednesday Morning Hangover.” Let’s dive in.
Movie from your childhood that still kicks ass
“Jack” (1996)—Robin Williams stars as the title character, a 10-year-old kid that looks like he’s 40 due to a rare condition that causes him to age rapidly. I was about 11 or 12 when I first saw this film, and when Jack’s friend Louis reads aloud this touching paper he wrote on why Jack is his best friend I bawled like a goddamn baby. My older sister gave me a lot of shit for it, and since then I’ve done my best to suppress my tears when I watch emotionally moving films. It’s totally stupid that some imagined macho creed prevents males from displaying a human reaction to something touching, but brainless sheep that I am, I adhere to this creed anyway. Except for “Toy Story 3.” If you don’t cry during that film, you could be a robot.
Shit that salvages an otherwise shitty day
Even with pretty much any song we want to hear accessible on demand nowadays, it’s still much more exhilarating to hear that song randomly on the radio or somewhere else. I was in a terrible mood one day last semester, so I decided to go to the SERF to burn off some steam. Now, the music selection in the SERF’s weight room typically consists of nu metal or some other terrible alternative rock, and since I don’t own an iPod, working out can be an especially taxing endeavor. But not that day. As I walked through the weight room entrance, I surprisingly heard U2’s “Mysterious Ways” and got unnaturally amped up. I actually let out an audible “hell yeah,” prompting a dude nearby to stare at me dumbfounded. I didn’t care. In that moment, all the worries and concerns weighing me down faded away. At least until Korn came on and ruined that temporary high.
First-World Hate of the week
This week’s hate is reserved for the makers of Gardetto’s, who insist on filling 70 percent of their bags with pretzels. Gardetto’s are delicious and have more than earned their place as the Holy Grail of Snacks, but when you’re denying space in your bag that could be set aside for more rye chips and breadsticks, are we supposed to take that shit lying down? I can’t think of a more useless snack than pretzels. When you lay out a spread of snack foods for your guests, is the bag of pretzels ever going to be devoured before the Doritos, Sun Chips or even popcorn? No, because pretzels are bland, empty carbs that lack flavor and offer nothing to get excited about. Remember last year when Hostess announced it was liquidating its inventory and everybody was decrying the death of Twinkies? Nobody would go to bat for Rold Gold if it was forced to cease operations. The makers of Gardetto’s need to realize that pretzels suck and are killing the integrity of their product. I’m still going to continue eating Gardetto’s because they’re irresistible, but one day someone will emerge and put a rightful end to pretzel tyranny. I’m very excited for that day.
Song that will make you wet your pants with excitement
“Rebel Rebel” (David Bowie, 1974)—You might not know this song by name, but surely you recognize its riff. Oh, that gorgeous, gorgeous riff. I’m always in search for new music, but it’s difficult to get into new songs until after a few listens and that’s kind of a chore. So it’s thrilling when a vaguely recognizable song like “Rebel Rebel” pops up on my Pandora station because it seems new-yet-familiar, since I only knew it as “that song with the riff.” Somebody needs to create a chip that probes the inner recesses of your mind to recall long-forgotten songs like that. I say we divert funding away from NASA to make this happen.
Unedited moronoic facebook status from a kid from my high school
“jeeesh all this shit om my fb wall bout that fucking gun band so ill put my 2 cents into this one look here i finally got to have guns in my house cause my dad dnt like em so theres no fucking way im lettin em take em god bless my 12 guage shot gun this is the time for the south to rise again and any one with a gun for that matter”
Yes folks, the same South that lost the Civil War—due in no small part to its lack of factories for capably manufacturing GUNS AND AMMUNITION—will rise again as the Gun Overlords they never were. So if you see one of the guys from “Duck Dynasty” leading a shotgun-toting militia from the Bayou to Capitol Hill, you heard it here first.
Be sure to email firstname.lastname@example.org to share in his anger.