Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Robert Osborne is definitely NOT pepperjack.

I loathe Robert Osborne. I envy Robert Osborne. I loathe him because he is the ultimate of tools, and I envy him because I want his job. Robert Osborne is the suit with the white hair before and after each movie that plays on TCM. He can more or less be considered the FJ (film-jay) of the station since he is the one and only person that consistently introduces films, and closes them with his oh-so interesting remarks that he gets some intern to write on a daily basis. By the way, whoever his intern is, is a MORON, (here's the deal buddy, I have a twelve year old dog that could come up with more interesting film facts without using their first year film studies anthology.) Yeah, yeah, if you are a frequent visitor to this channel, I don't want to hear your shit about how on the weekends there's Peter Bogdonavich, Ben Mankiewicz (wanker), or occasionally Sydney Pollack, for they are the equivalents to Kurt Loder, Suchin Pak, and Gideon Yago [respectively] (so get over it) we only see them on the weekends when people are home and prepared to sit down and watch a movie from beginning to end. (Sorry Bob you have to share custody of the weekends with the other white, male, film-people that know more than you.)

Anyway, back to the tool...

I suppose that an audience demographics would show that the majority of people that watch TCM range from their mid-forties to their mid-sixties, are most likely Caucasian, and find themselves in the mid to upper class of our elitist society. That being said, I would agree that Robert Osborne is the perfect candidate for the job, he's like a block of cheddar, not intrusive like a slice of aged asiago, and reliable like shaved parmesan, when people see him on a cheese platter they tend to skip him and head for the brie or the havarti (the much more interesting members of the dairy family). Cheddar is nice and all, but in the end, rendered as dull and completely unexciting to the scenses. Cheddar could be nicer if paired with a nice deli meat like ham, but alas TCM won't even spring for the ham. So the cheddar is once again all alone with his cue cards written by his incompetent intern who probably still has trouble writing a fifteen page paper on why Birth of a Nation can be considered a racially motivated film, and cheddar just goes about his routine, knowing that he will always be the cheese that everyone acknowledges but no one ever remembers to eat.

What I propose to TCM is to kick the cheddar down the cheese line in a nice spot next to the individually wrapped slices of American and go and fill your hors deurve plate with some warm pita and hummus, a few ripe strawberries, and a nice crudite with some brushetta. I need options, I need something other than dairy, I need to be drawn into an experience wholly and not half-assed. You give me a channel on my television (no less) without commercials and films that I could watch on loop for days on end (granted if I had blow it would be easier) and you have the audacity to get me to like your cheddar? FUCK YOU! Don't offer me Krug's Clos du Mesnil and proceed to pour it in a styrofoam cup, because guess what?, I'm going to sip slowly and spit it back into your face.

Ah, any-who...heh...that was the topic of conversation I was having one night with 'brainpanic', who by the way suggested that we should take over the hosting and occasionally have special guests like chimps. It seemed like an excellent idea at the time, but now that I think about may be a tad too much. These are the types of ideas that we come up with when boredom strikes, and there are beers in the fridge. That is more or less how we came up with the idea to start writing about our neighborhood. The very last frontier of Los Angeles property that has yet to be developed by outdoor shopping areas and and Olive Garden-esque eateries. This is a place where 99 cent stores still outnumber the number of grocery stores, nail and hair salons outnumber the 99 cent stores, and Mexican restaurants outnumber the salons.

This is the HP, where all the young, starving artist and their families have been migrating to in the last couple of years. Up and coming musicians by day, bartenders at night live right down the street. A film producer and his writer wife live directly across the street, and a housefull of boys that are attempting to start their own clothing line can be seen silk screening late at night by the sidewalk. I've noticed that ER seems to have the rejuvenation project down pat, but what about us HPers? We seem to be hitting a few rough patches here and there with no real guidance of any kind. So why not attempt at being the LA Weekly for HP? Why the FUCK not I ask? So here goes, I don't promise the world, and I don't promise to always be right, but I promise not to feed you cheddar and that's about all I can promise right now. Cheers.