Tuesday, November 16, 2004

I'd love nicholas picholas.

my pessimistic mind just came up with a good secondary wish. by which I mean, you can now fly, you can turn invisible, you're a gazillionaire, the middle east is quiet, you're on a first name basis with rachel ray (hot-cha!), but the genie is still there. you've made all your big wishes, so now what? well, if we're in the universe where genies grant an infinite number of wishes, you move on to the secondaries.

an endless supply of mighty taco? for keen eddie to start up again? the ability to always remember fred willard's name? (yes, I had to look it up.) how about we make calories good for you? all good thoughts and if you've got the wishes to throw around, be my guest. I'd definitely go for the mighty. but as I sit here in my car, flipping through the buffalo FM stations (yes I'm using my ipaq and yes I'm parked), I'm struck by my new secondary wish: I wish I had worse taste.

when I hear a song on the radio that I reeeeally like, let's say “istanbul” by TMBG, I'm elated. I'm thrilled. I feel like all the problems in the world could be solved if we just use enough elbow grease. but then the next thousand tunes are inevitably pearl jam's “last kiss”, and I instantly remember why I’m a misanthrope.

think about it: I wouldn't be dumber, I'd just have lowered standards. every song on the radio would make me happy, every summer teen movie would be my favorite, and don't even get me started on how much I'd look forward to sitcoms! and with poor taste, even the reruns are good to me!

or I could just wish everything was good, but c'mon, he's only a genie.


Anonymous said...

Lowered standards? C'mon, Garvey...that's the easy way out. Personally, I'd rather continue hating crap (reality TV, cookie cutter movies, Ben Affleck, etc.) than be enamored by it. True, life would be easier if you embraced the drivel that is spewed forth from the television, music and movie industries…but by doing so, you’d probably become some kind of media ingesting zombie. The main difference would be that instead of crying out “MMM! Brains!” your zombie form would bellow forth with such blasphemy as “MMM! Need sequel to From Justin to Kelly!” Ensconcing yourself in filth would only dumb you down to the point that you’d be unable to enjoy QUALITY entertainment. Taste is essential.

Or something.

I’m bored at work.


Anonymous said...

Hey man, I'm just a local dee jay at a local station. Cut me some slack.