“Silver Linings Play Book” Caution: Man Working Work-in-Progress–I Recently Re-Watched…

Got’s Me Lots Of Opinions On This One. All Respectful

And Good Of Course.

So Don’t Get Worried

Nor Winded from screaming

At Me

First Running Encounter

“Love At First Argument”

Jen’s Show me Your ‘War-Face’ Face:

Silver Linings Playbook – Diner Scene FULL

***

Full Metal Jacket

Sgt Hartman:

“Show me your ‘War Face”

Love is often a battlefield

Credit: Pat Benatar

***

“The Dance”

***

Try to figure out why.

Ask yourself why

Helpful Hint:

It is All About Insanity

And Being Broken,

Yet Finding True Love Anyway

Hits way too close to my Home/life-Experiences With Good Women.

Crazy Women.

They Draw Me As A Moth To A Flame

Bring Yer Own Goat

Where My Goat? 

Cred: Comedy Central Originals

 

So I’m standing in line at Kroger’s last night reading the tabloid headlines:

“Jennifer Lawrence gives birth to purple alien.”

”Perfectly preserved Elvis head found under back seat of ’57 Chevy in Dallas” (Why does this shit always happen in Texas?)

“Bill O’Reilly Comes Out” (Out of what? Stupidity?)

Just kiddin’ Bill. I love you man! Hahaha! (tongue firmly planted in cheek)

Anyhow, there is an elderly black gentleman in front of me, driving one of those grocery store golf carts. He has maybe five items in his basket. Still perusing the latest headlines, I hear the cashier say,

Bitch you crazy

It’s OK to say “Mother-Fucker” on my site. Tis rated “M”

“Eighty-one-fifty.”

“Eighty dollars?!” the man exclaims.

Now I look up.

“Yessir, eight-one-fifty.”

“Lan’ sakes chile. For what?”

“Well, you got them short ribs there… them was eighteen. Then you got that cough medicine, thas eight ninety-nine. Then you got that ‘luminum foil casserole dish, seven. Then you got them chips. Fo’ dollar. Then you got that gum there…. It all adds up.”

Black gentleman shakes grizzled head.

“Lawd ah mercy!”

“Yep. Y’all gonna be in big trouble onc’t y’all git home,” Cashier says. “Got a Kroger Loyalty Card?”

“Yessum, but far as I kin see, doan do no damn good.”

Now. I ask you: Since when do short ribs fetch nine dollar a pound? Since when does a nickel’s worth of aluminum foil shaped to look like a roasting pan cost seven bucks? Since when does a bag of potato chips cost four dollars? What has happened to my country?

Fuck it.

I’m moving back to Baghdad, where you can still purchase goat on the hoof for four bits a pound. (BYOB)

“Bring yer own bullets.”

No prob.

For you film scholars out there:

I understand the point behind the Musical “South Pacific.”

Yes, I do.

It was about the idiocy that is racism.

I used the video clip (see below)  for humor and to point out a point.

Sailors were innocent (for the most part). Times were heady. Facing death, which I know, can make feminists of us all:

“Mommy! Please don’t let me die here!”

Nuff said.

End of rant.

P.S. If we ban the word, ‘Bossy’ what follows when we can seriously consider banning any word?

Or Book?

Hunger Games?

As much as I admire Jennifer Lawrence, I do not wish to go there.

*******

“You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JjiaRJqKIU)

(sometimes “You’ve Got to Be Taught” or “Carefully Taught”) is a show tune from the 1949 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific.

South Pacific received scrutiny for its commentary regarding relationships between different races and ethnic groups. In particular, “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” was subject to widespread criticism, judged by some to be too controversial or downright inappropriate for the musical stage.[1] Sung by the character Lieutenant Cable, the song is preceded by a lyric saying racism is “not born in you! It happens after you’re born…”

Rodgers and Hammerstein risked the entire South Pacific venture in light of legislative challenges to its decency or supposed Communist agenda. While the show was on a tour of the Southern United States, lawmakers in Georgia introduced a bill outlawing entertainment containing “an underlying philosophy inspired by Moscow.”[2] One legislator said that “a song justifying interracial marriage was implicitly a threat to the American way of life.”[2] Rodgers and Hammerstein defended their work strongly. James Michener, upon whose stories South Pacific was based, recalled, “The authors replied stubbornly that this number represented why they had wanted to do this play, and that even if it meant the failure of the production, it was going to stay in.”[2]

–From Wikipedia

Bring Yer Own Goat

So I’m standing in line at Kroger’s last night reading the tabloid headlines:

“Jennifer Lawrence gives birth to purple alien.”

”Perfectly preserved Elvis head found under back seat of ’57 Chevy in Dallas” (Why does this shit always happen in Texas?)

“Bill O’Reilly Comes Out” (Out of what? Stupidity?)

Just kiddin’ Bill. I love you man! Hahaha! (tongue firmly planted in cheek)

Anyhow, there is an elderly black gentleman in front of me, driving one of those grocery store golf carts. He has maybe five items in his basket. Still perusing the latest headlines, I hear the cashier say,

Bitch you crazy

It’s OK to say “Mother-Fucker” on my site. Tis rated “M”

“Eighty-one-fifty.”

“Eighty dollars?!” the man exclaims.

Now I look up.

“Yessir, eight-one-fifty.”

“Lan’ sakes chile. For what?”

“Well, you got them short ribs there… them was eighteen. Then you got that cough medicine, thas eight ninety-nine. Then you got that ‘luminum foil casserole dish, seven. Then you got them chips. Fo’ dollar. Then you got that gum there…. It all adds up.”

Black gentleman shakes grizzled head.

“Lawd ah mercy!”

“Yep. Y’all gonna be in big trouble onc’t y’all git home,” Cashier says. “Got a Kroger Loyalty Card?”

“Yessum, but far as I kin see, doan do no damn good.”

Now. I ask you: Since when do short ribs fetch nine dollar a pound? Since when does a nickel’s worth of aluminum foil shaped to look like a roasting pan cost seven bucks? Since when does a bag of potato chips cost four dollars? What has happened to my country?

Fuck it.

I’m moving back to Baghdad, where you can still purchase goat on the hoof for four bits a pound. (BYOB)

“Bring yer own bullets.”

No prob.