Rushfield Babylon

You whipersnappers here will wake up one morning, open your computers and read a blogger’s account of how their parents showed them some olde timey DVD’s of this madcap funny lady named Tina Fey who used to pretend to be a news reader on this TV skit show.

And when you read that, you’ll understand how I felt this morning when I happened upon the following sentence at theawl

My father went on to show me the Airplane movies, the Naked Gun sequels 

And when they day comes, picture me, by then long dead, floating above your computer, laughing.

VANCOUVER, British Columbia - Randy Quaid said Tuesday if it weren’t for Canada’s refugee system, he and his wife would be dead.

The actor made the comment Tuesday as he entered his immigration and refugee board hearing in Vancouver, where he and his wife, Evi, were picked up last month on an outstanding warrant in the United States.

The pair quickly claimed refugee status and their hearings have been conducted amid their bizarre claims of being hunted by what they call “Hollywood star whackers.”

They say many of their friends have died under mysterious circumstances and believe they could be next on the hit list. Quaid is hoping to convince Canada’s Immigration and Refugee board that he and his wife are targeted by Hollywood killers and thereby accomplish what no other American has ever done in Canada: Gain refugee status.

This would explain so much

The truth is hiding in plain site.

Sofia Coppola = Ciao Sofa Plop; Fiasco La Poop

Kate Middleton = Detonated Milk; Talkie Oddment

Waity Katie = Take Ya I Wilt

Joe Biden = Job Need I

Gawker Media = Awake Grimed

Bristol Palin = Brat Pill Is On

Don Draper = A Nerd Prop 

Boardwalk Empire = Awake Problem Rid

Conan O Brien = Nice An Boron

Daily Show = Washy Idol; Ah Dis Yowl

Kardashians = Hark a Sad Sin

Not to brag too much, but I went to see an Antonioni film this weekend at the New Beverly.  I don’t want to get hung up on the point except to say if you are in Los Angeles and you did not go you should both be ashamed of yourself and incredibly impressed with me.

Anyhow, impressive as this feat was, it was turned into a near catastrophe by two young women sitting a few seats down from me who were texting during the entire film.  If I weren’t attempting to rely less on the word hipsters, that is the word I would certainly use, but since I am weaning myself, I’ll just say young of the moment people who would seem very at home in certain parts of Brooklyn and Silverlake that I’ve been told of.   I would have told them to knock it off and escorted them from the theater gladly were it not for the fact that there not six seats between us and I was too cowardly to make that loud a stink in that quiet an auditorium.  

But having missed my moment to address the matter in person, I’d like to bring it up here, with them.  No doubt they are reading this, but in case they are not if you know any of their ilk, please forward this their way so that we can have a meaningful discussion.

So to these young ladies who nearly ruined my film flashing their phone screens, I would like to ask you a few questions:

First, putting it as simply as I can, What the hell is wrong with you?  And I don’t mean this in a mean way, I just mean clinically, what condition do you have?  Is there some diagnosed ailment that you suffer from that makes you behave this way?  If so, please forgive my rudeness and lack of understanding.

Second, what is so damn interesting about your conversation that it really could not be put on hold for more than, by my accounting, five minutes at a time.  I couldn’t actually read your words but from a cursory inspection I am fairly confident that nothing either you or anyone in your life has to say will be remotely interesting until you are well into your 50’s, decades from now.  And yet, the phone had to be checked 12 times an hour.  Again, if your conversation truly was more interesting than the works on the screen, you have my apologies and I only ask you share it with the rest of us next time.

Third, were you under the impression that you had to go to the movies last Saturday night?  In particular, did you think there was some legal requirement that you be present for an Antonioni screening at the New Beverly?  To the best of my knowledge, there is no law on the book compelling such attendance, and people who have very interesting text message conversations do not actually have to go?

Finally, Would you and everyone like you mind very much wearing armbands for the rest of your lives so that decent people can refuse you admittance to our establishments.  They will be very attractive armbands. We’ll have Dov Charney design them, and you can personalize and accessorize them to your needs.  Please just send your names and the names of all your kind to this tumblr and we’ll get you fixed up right away. 

Your humble servant,

Richard Rushfield

editor in chief, Rushfield Babylon Inc

The phrase “bitch slapped” has entered into such common usage that it has eclipsed the traditional “slapped” (see the always precise and articulate  Nikki Finke, Scripter John August Bitchslaps Jessica Alba").   But in eclipsing the simple To Slap, has To Bitchslap acquired its properties?   

Put more simply, does “To Bitchslap” now just mean “To Slap” but is used by people who think its funnier if you can say “bitch” with its penitentiary connotations?   Does the phrase “To Slap” even exist anymore?

I mean, if AMC is going to give us a zombie mini-series, how can you quibble with that?  Short of them sending someone to my home to cook dinner and give me a foot massage while I watch, what more can I really ask for in life?

Nonetheless….

If people don’t calm the F down about it and stop proclaiming Walking Dead to be the greatest piece of artistry since the Michelangelo started doodling on the Pope’s ceiling, then this show is going to find itself in the midst of a full-fledged backlash before it gets to its one month anniversary.

Honest assessment of last night’s episode: Enjoyable, not extraordinary.  If there is a hackneyed trope within the zombie genre, it is people being trapped in a building surrounded by zombies and having to get out.  That was the plot of Dawn of the Dead, for instance.  To devote your entire second episode to the well-trod conundrum does not exactly give hope for a great reserve of fresh ideas to come.

(And in Dawn of the Dead, that plot contained an active subtext about consumerism, zombies drawn back to the place they feel closest to - the mall, people being trapped by that society they had created. In Walking Dead they were just drawn to the department store because they smelled people inside)

(And no its not an homage.  An homage is something you do with a single shot or reference, not stealing a whole plotline)

Another problem just starting to set off alarm bells in episode two is the fact that thus far not a single memorable character has emerged.  They all feel more or less like stiff cardboard cutouts. Or worse, over-the-top caricatures who seem leftover from Lost’s central casting grab bag.  (The white supremacist might be Sawyer’s uncle).

And then there seems to be some inconsistency on the question of whether zombies can run or not. (For any historian, this is not debatable: zombies can not run).

So I’m still enjoying the show.  I’m still hopeful for it. After all, it’s a zombie miniseries. But with the warning signs in the air, folks need to give it a bit of a shorter leash lest the producers get lazy and slacken up their game any further.  Right now, I’m giving it a “B.”  A “B” can easily turn into an “A” but it can just as easily slip to a “C.”