Raised by Wolves in a Barn

I went with a friend to see King Of California last night, a tiresome would-be "our family is so fucked up but we love each other" bore in the vein of similar atrocities like Garden State or Little Miss Sunshine. Michael Douglas has the experience and enthusiasm to pull off his maniacal character, but its squandered on droll cinematography, and muted by the chemistry-less drone of Evan Rachel Wood.

The real excitement happened in the theater itself. About halfway through, a guy sitting behind us began talking on his cell phone; his apparent logic being, "Its late, theres only seven people here, this movie sucks, I am going to push some limits." Given the fact I assume a healthy percentage of theater cell phone talkers are actually armed and looking for conflict, I remained quiet. Towards the end of the movie he started up again, and my friend stood up, faced him, and said "Could you not talk on your cell phone during the movie?" Squirming in his chair, he uttered a hushed, defeated and yet coolly measured response.

"Mind your own business."

Amazing. AMAZING. Mind your own business. Thats what the guy said. So, should you ever find yourself in this situation, don't make the hasty mistake we did. Do not intrude. Please respect the PRIVACY of the person talking on their cell phone in a theater.

We are headed towards Idiocracy.

2007 VMAs: The Britney Conspiracy Theory

Leave it to the spirit of 9/11 to put me in the mood for a juicy conspiracy theory. Did you see the 2007 VMAs on Sunday? Yes, the whole world is aflame over Britney's comatose show opening performance. Apparently, she admits to currently feeling something called "embarrasment". The rest of the show oozed down my tv screen like an exploded can of spaghettios. The off camera Kid Rock/Tommy Lee brawl, Justin Timberlake's repeated helium-voiced challenges to MTV to play more videos, Jaime Fox's wild "unscripted" intro speech for the People's Choice Video of the Year, and Jennifer Garner's subsequent shouting of "The winner is...Gym Class Fallout!", the various cameras planted in various hotel room private parties, capturing spontaneous band performances. As we all know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, so if you don't blink something requiring secrecy may just happen!

Doesn't this all seem a bit in line with reality television, celebrity scandal, and the hollywood gossip industry that has sprung up to help us interpret and eventually consume what all this conflict means? Britney was acting weird, man. Really weird. You're telling me those lame outfits, the lazy choreography, and off time slip synching, and Sarah Silverman's follow up dissing don't add up to some serious evidence? Maybe she wasn't losing the fight against the world, but simply throwing it for what any artist with a new album needs...press. You think her label plans on moving units based on quality songwriting? Its Britney, bitch! Despite his handful of acting credits, I didn't pick up too much sincerity in Justin's beef with the brand that feeds either. Nonetheless, you could practically hear the entire nation gasp a collective "Oh snap!" every time he got riled up.

Is pop culture really eating itself this fast? Are we really such inarticulate apes that the only type of programming we're continually interested in orchestrates the crucifixion of those we love to feel superior to? MTV is no longer in a position where they must craft the illusion to the point of, well, believability. As exemplified by recent "cut to the chase" reality shows like Rock of Love and Two Coreys, the cameras simply swoop in from the get go to reveal implausible conflict, humiliation, and failure. Without any contextual development to make them authentic, its like we devolve into a wild crowd screaming at roman gladiators and bloodthirsty lions.

Naturally, I googled. I am not alone in this theory.

Battles Featuring the Amazing John Stanier

I Saw Battles at Southstreet Seaport on Friday. They were cerebral and brutal in all the right ways, and total masters at working the crowd into an anticipated frenzy. After 10 minutes of tape loopy sound effects you're just dying for outrageously talented drummer John Stanier to reach for that towering crash and deliver something along the lines of a mosh part. I ran into a drummer friend, Tim, and we traded pleased looks as the band eased into the demented shuffle of "Atlas", the highlight of the set, and a song that seemed to actually intensify the swaying of the docked ship directly behind them. I normally am put off by artists that operate in the experimental/electronic prog genre, but watching Battles you got the feeling this is one of the bands of our time.