Frustration
is a common theme when it comes to my satire, but especially when it
comes to my personal blogs. Of course I am on who believes that frustration
is necessary for good writing.
At least in
terms of nonfiction, but that is not entirely true. Some of the best
works are done in response to the poor ones. "Airplane" was
to "Airport," as "Scream" was to slasher flicks.
And then we
get "fill in the blank Movie." Not to speak ill of the dead
(especially since he rarely appeared in the latest stain on the big
white screen), but hopefully Leslie Nielsen's death will slow those
productions down as a memorial/moratorium to him. One would hate to
need to put a hit out on Kevin Sorbo or Diedrich Bader.
As a narcissist, it is a bit frustrating to be stuck on movies. Then again, some of
those who are reading this blog maybe frustrated that my self-centered
nature is where I am taking it to. For those who have not pushed the
back button or the X in the top right corner, let me finally begin with
frustration is what sums up 2010.
I don't think
it is wise to follow the suggestions of Tyler Durden, and the "Big
Lebowski" showed that nihilism only leads to missing nonessential
body parts. Which makes me wonder why ears are prized by psychotic war vets
and Mike Tyson?
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