Visual representations of the state of my mind.
Boxes full of nothing.
Themselves composed of discarded, irrelevant, redundant information.
"This song is Copyrighted in U.S., under Seal of Copyright #154085, for a period of 28 years, and anybody caught singin' it without our permission will be mighty good friends of ourn cause we don't give a dern. Publish it. Write it. Sing it. Swing to it. Yodel it. We wrote it, that's all we wanted to do." —Woody Guthrie, in a songbook from the 1930s.
From the "Toys -backwards R- Us" ad copy above: "He can throw a ball, lift weights, dream, walk, talk, rap and more! "
I got no beef with hundred dollar toys that pound their fists, rap, and roll over, but 'dream'? No thank you. No toys with aspirations in my house.
You're a toy, and you're always gonna be a toy.
About four years ago, fed up with being treated like an ATM by the pinheads on their cellphones, I put up this sign at the video store. I also posted it on Photobucket, emailed it to a few fellow retail-monkeys, put it on my MySpace page (This pic is a later one, but shows the original sign in its original place: http://www.myspace.com/ginsoak/photos/61960451 ).
Last night I went to the midnight premiere of "Scott Pilgram vs the World". I'm a big fan of the director Edgar Wright, and the early reviews were great, so I decided to catch it early.
About 10 minutes into the film the Scott character gets a call from his bitchy sister Stacey, who works as a barista. Something in the background catches my eye; look at the sign over her left shoulder:
And for easier comparison:
Four years after putting this up out of frustration with shitty customers it works its way to Hollywood, where some set designer/art director decides it's a good background sign for a bitchy barista....