Hooray Hurrah! Congratulations to Lauren K. Bear, my own dear baby sis, on her engagement over the weekend to her extra-handsome beau, Steve Martin. I couldn't be happier. Steve set up a whole flaming plan which was both romantic and surprising for Lauren which concluded in her saying "yes." August 9th, 2003 is the big day, laddies and lasses, so mark it down. Be sure to shower congratulations on her head by emailing her here: elby11@hotmail.com.
So, I guess it'll be "Lauren Martin." "Lauren Martin." Hm. That'll take awhile to get used to. But, I must say, Steve is, from my small bits of conversation with him, a fine fellow, sinewy and svelt. I'm sure he'll sire many wonderful little Martins to make us all proud. And, I must admit, Steve handles his celebrity-sounding name with much grace and fortitude. I can only imagine what it must have been like growing up. For example, I simply don't know what I'd ever do with myself if my name were, I don't know, Meredith Baxter Birney.
...
So, yesterday, I saw a woman rollerblading down the street toward me. All decked out in athletic gear and whatall, nothing strange. Then I realized that she was smoking.
Only in California.
...
Upsetting happening of the week: A couple nights ago, Carey and I went to see the hip-hop film 8 Mile, starring the always-controversial Eminem. It was an okay movie, I guess, but I'm not sure I'd recommend it. I can't be bothered to lie: the language in the film is about 5 steps beyond raw and there's a whole heap of sexual content. It's violent, it's crude, it's loud, and it's basically a carnival of depravity. Now, normally I'm jaded enough to not think much about these things while watching a film. It's sad, I know, but it very rarely occurs to me to become offended at... well, anything.
Toward the end of the film, though, I became truly disturbed... I heard a 4 year-old-kid in the theater say something to his mother, who promptly shushed him.
Now, I'm not exaggerating. This kid was barely beyond toddler-hood. That extra-tender age where they understand exactly what's going on around them, and everything leaves an impression. Some friggin' moron-loser-dillweed-punk-asshole decided that they simply couldn't go one more minute without seeing Eminem on the big screen and thought it was simply too much trouble to hire a baby sitter. I was enraged. DON'T TAKE YOUR KIDS TO SEE AN EMINEM MOVIE, you imbecile! And for cripes, if you are stupid enough to take the little guy to the movie, wouldn't it occur to you that it might not be the very best viewing material for a pre-kindergartener after the 100th F-word or maybe the first 5 minute sex scene or gang shooting?
Which begs the inevitable question, I know, I know... if it's so bad, Jer, why were YOU watching it? Man, I don't know. The only defense I can possibly give is... there's some material that's inappropriate for children. Some things are adults-only. (God help us if 8 Mile is the definition of "adult", but...) I realize it's a shaky argument, but it's the only one I have.
So, I guess it'll be "Lauren Martin." "Lauren Martin." Hm. That'll take awhile to get used to. But, I must say, Steve is, from my small bits of conversation with him, a fine fellow, sinewy and svelt. I'm sure he'll sire many wonderful little Martins to make us all proud. And, I must admit, Steve handles his celebrity-sounding name with much grace and fortitude. I can only imagine what it must have been like growing up. For example, I simply don't know what I'd ever do with myself if my name were, I don't know, Meredith Baxter Birney.
...
So, yesterday, I saw a woman rollerblading down the street toward me. All decked out in athletic gear and whatall, nothing strange. Then I realized that she was smoking.
Only in California.
...
Upsetting happening of the week: A couple nights ago, Carey and I went to see the hip-hop film 8 Mile, starring the always-controversial Eminem. It was an okay movie, I guess, but I'm not sure I'd recommend it. I can't be bothered to lie: the language in the film is about 5 steps beyond raw and there's a whole heap of sexual content. It's violent, it's crude, it's loud, and it's basically a carnival of depravity. Now, normally I'm jaded enough to not think much about these things while watching a film. It's sad, I know, but it very rarely occurs to me to become offended at... well, anything.
Toward the end of the film, though, I became truly disturbed... I heard a 4 year-old-kid in the theater say something to his mother, who promptly shushed him.
Now, I'm not exaggerating. This kid was barely beyond toddler-hood. That extra-tender age where they understand exactly what's going on around them, and everything leaves an impression. Some friggin' moron-loser-dillweed-punk-asshole decided that they simply couldn't go one more minute without seeing Eminem on the big screen and thought it was simply too much trouble to hire a baby sitter. I was enraged. DON'T TAKE YOUR KIDS TO SEE AN EMINEM MOVIE, you imbecile! And for cripes, if you are stupid enough to take the little guy to the movie, wouldn't it occur to you that it might not be the very best viewing material for a pre-kindergartener after the 100th F-word or maybe the first 5 minute sex scene or gang shooting?
Which begs the inevitable question, I know, I know... if it's so bad, Jer, why were YOU watching it? Man, I don't know. The only defense I can possibly give is... there's some material that's inappropriate for children. Some things are adults-only. (God help us if 8 Mile is the definition of "adult", but...) I realize it's a shaky argument, but it's the only one I have.
posted by Jeremy Bear at
12:00 PM
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