Not Just Movies

Later Maxine finds Horst in the dining room trying to assemble a particleboard computer desk for Ziggy, blood already streaming from several fingers, reading glasses about to slide off the seat on his nose, mysterious metal and plastic fasteners littering the floor, instruction sheets torn and flapping everywhere. Screaming. The default phrase being “Fucking IKEA.”

Like millions of other men around the world, Horst hates the Swedish DIY giant. He and Maxine once blew a weekend looking for the branch in Elizabeth, New Jersey, located next to the airport so the world’s four-richest billionaire can save on lading costs while the rest of us spend the day getting lost on the New Jersey Turnpike. Also off it. At last they arrived at a county-size parking lot, and shimmering in the distance a temple to, or museum of, a theory of domesticity too alien for Horst fully to be engaged by. Cargo planes kept landing gently nearby. An entire section of the store was dedicated to replacing wrong or missing parts and fasteners, since with IKEA this is not so exotic an issue. Inside the store proper, you walk forever from bourgeois context, or “room of the house,” to another, along a fractal path that does its best to fill up the floor space available. Exits are clearly marked but impossible to get to. Horst is bewildered, in a potentially violent sort of way. “Look at this. A barstool, named Sven? Some old Swedish custom, the winter kicks in, weather gets harsh, after a while you find yourself relating to the furniture in ways you didn’t expect?”

Bleeding Edge, by Thomas Pynchon




The Redskins Nation citizens eagerly signed up, most of them knowing that they might be mocked in their interview with correspondent Jason Jones. But several hours into the Sept. 13 taping of the yet-to-air episode, the fans, all from Virginia, said they were suddenly confronted by a larger group of Native American activists — all of whom were in on the showdown prearranged by “The Daily Show.”

The encounter at a Dupont Circle hotel was so tense that an Alexandria fan said she left in tears and felt so threatened that she later called the police. She has told “The Daily Show” to leave her out of the segment but doesn’t know whether the producers will comply.

“This goes way beyond mocking. Poking fun is one thing, but that’s not what happened,” said Kelli O’Dell, 56, a former teacher who lives in Alexandria and doesn’t watch the show regularly. “It was disingenuous. The Native Americans accused me of things that were so wrong. I felt in danger. I didn’t consent to that. I am going to be defamed.”

If only the Native American activists protesting the racist R**** mascot knew what it was like to be falsely misrepresented and endangered without their consent, and defamed. They’d want to call the police, too.

In her essay "I’m Leaving!" White fragility in Racial Dialogues, Robin J. DiAngelo writes: ”fragility coupled with privilege will result in a response of resistance, indulgence in emotional incapacitation, exiting, or a combination of these.”

And they say people protesting the R**** mascot are the ones who are “too sensitive.”


guy fieri looks like a stereotypical american character in an obscure japanese arcade fighting game.

Doc was in the toilet pissing during a commercial break when he heard Sauncho screaming at the television set. He got back to find his attorney withdrawing his nose from the screen.

“Everything cool?”

“Ahh…” collapsing on the couch, “Charlie the fucking Tuna, man.”


“It’s all supposed to be so innocent, upwardly mobile snob, designer shades, beret, so desperate to show he’s got good taste, except he’s also dyslexic so he gets ‘good taste’ mixed up with ‘taste good,’ but it’s worse than that! Far, far worse! Charlie really has this, like, obsessive death wish! Yes! he, he wants to be caught, processed, put in a can, not just any can, can you dig, it has to be StarKist! suicidal brand loyalty, man, deep parable of consumer capitalism, they won’t be happy with anything less than drift-netting us all, chopping us up and stacking us on the shelves of Supermarket Amerika, and subconsciously the horrible thing is, we want them to do it…”

“Saunch, wow, that’s…”

“It’s been on my mind. And another thing. Why is there Chicken of the Sea, but no Tuna of the Farm?”

“Um…” Doc actually beginning to think about this.

“And don’t forget,” Sauncho went on to remind him darkly, “that Charles Manson and the Vietcong are also named Charlie.”

Inherent Vice, Thomas Pynchon


godard filming ‘weekend’ + disaster girl


Kohayagawa-ke no aki / The End of Summer (1961) Yasujirō Ozu



In facing this defiance, the choice of rich society is easy: either this society must destroy everything resisting it (but the task may be bigger than its means of destruction), or it will have to transform itself completely. But maybe it’s too much for a society at the peak of its power. If it refuses that option, it will have to sacrifice its reassuring illusions to accept this war between the poor and the rich as inevitable, and to lose it.
Loin du Vietnam [Far from Vietnam] (Joris Ivens, William Klein, Claude Lelouch, Agnès Varda, Jean-Luc Godard, Chris Marker and Alain Resnais, 1967)


Sergeant Rutledge (John Ford, 1960)

Colossal Youth (Pedro Costa, 2006)

Casa de Lava (Pedro Costa, 1994)

Casa de Lava (Pedro Costa, 1994)

On the way back to the beach, Doc looked in at the offices of Hardy, Gridley & Chatfield. Sauncho was there, but mentally for the moment not available, having the other night happened to watch The Wizard of Oz (1939) for the first time on a color TV set.

“Did you know it starts off in black and white,” he informed Doc with some anxiety, “but it changes to color! Do you realize what this means?”


No use. “—the world we see Dorothy living in at the beginning of the picture is black, actually brown, and white, only she thinks she’s living it all in color—the same normal everyday color we see our lives in. Then the cyclone picks her up, dumps her in Munchkin Land, and she walks out the door, and suddenly we see the brown and white shift into Technicolor. But if that’s what we see, what’s happening with Dorothy? What’s her ‘normal’ Kansas color changing into? Huh? What very weird hypercolor? as far beyond our everyday color as Technicolor is beyond black and white—” and so on.

“I know I should…be worried about this, Saunch, but…”

“The network ought to’ve at least run a disclaimer,” Sauncho by now quite indignant. “Munchkin Land is strange enough, isn’t it, without adding to the viewer’s mental confusion, and in fact I think there’s a pretty good class-action suit here against MGM itself, so I’m gonna bring it up at the firm’s next weekly get-together.”

Inherent Vice, Thomas Pynchon

"How’s the television?" Downstairs Eddie wanted to know.

"The film libraries on some of these channels," Elmina said, "I swear. There was one on last night, I couldn’t sleep. After I saw it, I was afraid to sleep. Have you seen Black Narcissus, 1947?”

Eddie, who was enrolled in the graduate film program at SC, let out a scream of recognition. He’d been working on his doctoral dissertation, “Deadpan to Demonic—Subtextual Uses of Eyeliner in the Cinema,” and had just in fact arrived at the moment in Black Narcissus where Kathleen Byron, as a demented nun, shows up in civilian gear, including eye makeup good for a year’s worth of nightmares.

"Well, I hope you’ll be including some men," Elmina said. "All those German silents, Conrad Veidt in Caligari, Klein-Rogge in Metropolis—”

"—complicated of course by the demands of orthochromatic film stock—"

Oboy. Doc went out to search through the kitchen, having dimly recalled an unopened case of beer that might be in there.

Inherent Vice
by Thomas Pynchon

You could do the “my God, it even has a watermark” speech from American Psycho about how exquisitely worded this tweet is to maximize racist, sexist and classist dog-whistling.

You could do the “my God, it even has a watermark” speech from American Psycho about how exquisitely worded this tweet is to maximize racist, sexist and classist dog-whistling.