I sit here writing with a bemused smile on my face that will not go away.
How many times have I watched this incredibly funny satire? And, still, every time, can’t stop laughing.
“This Is Spinal Tap” is quite simply the greatest film ever made about rock & roll.
Period. I shall not argue with you.
And, is as clever and funny and penetrating a satire as I’ve ever seen. On film. In print. Or elsewhere.
Period. I shall not argue with you.
Let’s give credit where it’s due. Rob Reiner (Marty Dibergi), Christopher Plummer (Nigel Tufnel), Michael McKean (David St. Hubbins) and Harry Shearer (Derek Smalls). They all have writing credits, though much of the film, which includes lots of amazing cameos, was improvised.
Here’s a video with several clips:
It’s really silly for me to go into why this so good. So I shan’t. If you’ve seen it, you know. It’s time to watch it again. If you haven’t seen it, today is the time to go rent it, or download it, and let the humor cut through the gray and damp.
This is brilliance, the lyrics to “Stonehenge” for your approval.
Spoken Intro: In ancient times…/ Hundreds of years before the dawn of history/ Lived a strange race of people… the Druids/ No one knows who they were or what they were doing/ But their legacy remains/ Hewn into the living rock… Of Stonehenge
Stonehenge! Where the demons dwell/ Where the banshees live and they do live well/ Stonehenge! Where a man’s a man
And the children dance to the Pipes of Pan
Hey!
Stonehenge! ‘Tis a magic place/ Where the moon doth rise with a dragon’s face/ Stonehenge! Where the virgins lie
And the prayers of devils fill the midnight sky/ And you my love, won’t you take my hand?/ We’ll go back in time to that mystic land/ Where the dew drops cry and the cats meow/ I will take you there, I will show you how
Oh!
Spoken: And oh how they danced/ The little children of Stonehenge/ Beneath the haunted moon/ For fear that daybreak might come too soon
And where are they now?/ The little children of Stonehenge/ And what would they say to us?/ If we were here… tonight
Understand there is also a certain poignancy to the film that is beyond humor. There was tragedy too.
If somebody out there really understands, I’d love for you to explain it to me.
What exactly was technosavant Mark Zuckerberg saying on Monday?
There he was on stage at one of those bells and whistles-laden, dog and pony cyberollouts usually held only by guys named Jobs. Or Gates. And, now, by he who seems to be trumping them both — along with every googlicious SilIcon — Mark Zuckerberg. (Or, is that Jesse Eisenberg? I can’t tell the difference, can you?)
Anyhow, Facebook hopes to corner the cybermessaging market in the same fashion as those Texan Hunt brothers who tried to corner the world’s silver market a half century ago.
Will the digital grab work? I dunno. First, we gotta figure out exactly what Zuckerberg is proposing?
Was he saying email is dead? Or, just that Yahoo Mail, GMail and HotMail are soon to be six feet under?
Is texting passe?
You got me.
What I think he’s saying is that he’s going to roll all that communication gizmology into one thing that will be available wherever and whenever you want. Coming soon to a grocery shelf near you: Facebook-encoded, aloe-infused toilet paper.
What I do know is this. If Zuckerberg pulls off whatever it is that he says he’s going to do; he, not Leo DeCaprio will be the once and true King of the World.
My computer guru shared an amazing statistic with me the other day. Facebook, which we already know has an almost unfathomable 500,000,000 users, usurps 40% of all internet traffic worldwide.
Let that number sink in for a nanosecond.
One site among the millions of them. Two out of every 5 mouseclicks worldwide.
Somewhere those Hunt boys, those that’s left of them, are smiling.
* * * * *
What I also know is that the perceived if not real need for instant communication and response is increasing.
Sometime about a decade ago, perhaps a bit longer, my friends Pete and Patti and I made a bet. Who would last the longest without getting a cellphone? How quaint the conversation now seems.
I won easily. (Hey, I stuck with cassette tapes long after CDs were the medium of choice for music. You remember CDs, right?)
As fascinated as I am by the technology revolution — I’m a beta tester for Insight’s 50Mbps broadband — I am still entrenched in some old habits. Like, I dunno, calling somebody up on the phone and talking to them, either when I have a question or just want to chat. Or, sitting down at my computer when I morph wikipedic.
I haven’t felt the need for a smartphone.
Nor have I taken to texting.
The latter may be changing. Just in the last few days, some contemporaries have taken to writing instead of calling. This morning my buddy Don wanted to change the meeting time of the weekly lunch he has with our pal Mike and me. He texted instead of calling or emailing.
My bride texts all the time.
It seems like an inevitable.
I’ve always prided myself on my simple DumbPhone. “It does only one thing,” I would lie to any who asked. “I can call out. You can call in. That’s it.” Truth is it also texts, but that’s it. Really. No camera. No internet connection. No apps.
Now I fear I’m headed for a dark place where the conundrum won’t be Cats or Cards, Ginger or Mary Ann?
It will be iPhone or Android? Or, heaven help me, the next step beyond.
I sit here writing with a bemused smile on my face that will not go away.