VANITY CARDS

i was sitting in my living room last week eating dinner and flipping through the channels. i stopped on an episode of a show called Two & A Half Men. it stars Charlie Sheen and another guy who was in a bunch of 80's movies. for the life of me, i couldn't think of his name. he was ducky in Pretty In Pink. he was in Hot Shots, too (probably when he made the Charlie Sheen connection). anyway, it was driving me crazy. whenever i know that i know something and i just can't conjure the answer, i become obsessed. its incredibly frustrating. so i sat there for the last fifteen minutes staring at this guy trying to remember his name.

the credits rolled and his name wasn't listed. the stars of the show must have got their dues at the beginning, but it stuck me then. JON CRYER. then i remembered he was in that movie Hiding Out, where he played a business man testifying against a mobster, then pretending to be a high school student to lay low. as i sat there in a moment of pride, there flashed a still screen filled with words. it was only up for a second or two. strange, thought i.

then, tonight, i happened to come across Two & A Half Men again. the show was actually okay, not laugh out loud funny, but amusing enough. then the credits came flashing by. i waited with remote in hand and when the last still image full of words popped up, i hit freeze frame. this is what it said:

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #112

When I was in the shower this morning, I thought: If we assume a Big Bang beginning of the universe, then every molecule, every atom, every proton, every electron, every quark, every wavelength, every vibration, every multi-dimensional string, every everything that makes up everything else shares an ineffable property of pre-Bang Oneness. Assuming that, then every everything is always moving in one of two directions: either away from that primordial state, or returning towards it. We feel these quantum movements. Moving away is experienced as loneliness, fear, anger and despair. Returning is experienced as one or more of the infinite variations and gradations of what we call love. Now, while some might say that equating the miracle of human feelings to the meandering of sub-atomic bric-a-brac robs them of their mystery, the truth is quite the opposite. Connecting our fundamental experience of life to the great mystery of existence ties us to the eternal within our every waking moment. We are not separate. We are made of the same stuff that existed at the beginning and will exist at the end. Therefore, the question we must each ask ourselves is simple: "In what direction am I moving today - towards oneness, or away from it?" When I was done reflecting on this, I stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and, while glancing at the mirror, pondered a new thought: "I have a pretty nice ass for a guy my age."

honestly, this was better than the show was. the fact that is was #112 made me think there were a lot more of these so i did a little internet research. i discovered that Chuck Lorre runs a production company and creator and/or writer and/or directer of about a half dozen shows over the past 15 or so years. he ends every episode of one of his shows with a "Chuck Lorre Vanity Card". its kind of like a blog post on national television.

here are a few more...

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #108

When Dharma was cancelled my heart was broken. Over the next few years my efforts to mend it by creating a new show led to an even deeper emotional nadir when I noticed that I had somehow become the author of a seemingly endless succession of failed pilots and pilot scripts. This was not a big enough string of stinkers to lower AOL-Time Warner's stock price (that had already been done by people more incompetent than myself), but my ill-advised attempts at heart-mending were sufficient enough to cause people in suits to not look up from their cobb salads when I ambled into the WB commissary (in Hollywood even has-beens amble). But I was indomitable. I kept writing... and failing... and ambling. And then, about a year ago, my good friend and favorite cross-to-bear, Lee Aronsohn, told me he needed to write something fairly quickly in order to keep his Writer's Guild health insurance. Everyone -- friends, agents, execs -- told me not to get involved. They assured me that I was too big, too successful, for such a partnership. You see where this is going. Lee and I wrote "Two and a Half Men." Which brings me to the glaringly obvious spiritual lesson in all this. How do you mend a broken heart? The Bee Gee's never figured it out, but I did. You help a friend keep their health insurance from lapsing.

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #117

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for watching the show. I know that for many of you, particularly those who go to the trouble of reading my vanity cards, a real and continuous effort is being made to support what we're doing. So this is my little attempt at reaching out and saying how truly grateful I am. It's hard to grasp the idea that roughly sixteen million people watch each episode. But, according to the statistics, that is the astonishingly large audience we're getting every week. The fact that much larger audiences turn out to watch derivative, soulless singers being humiliated by a panel of unqualified dildos, or a bunch of pathetic shmucks jumping around like spider monkeys on crank to get a make-believe job with a goofy-haired guy on the brink of bankruptcy, does not lessen my profound gratitude. The fact that a few TV critics, who would probably eat a hole through their loved ones and crawl through if it meant they could get my job, insist on ignoring or denigrating our success, does not diminish my joy. I am a man who knows how to cherish the blessings that have been bestowed on him. And I just wanted to say so.

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #50

I was recently asked by a journalist why I write these vanity cards. It seemed like a simple enough question, but the truth is, I was stumped. Why do I write them? Not for money certainly, although I continue to hold out hope. Is it a creative exercise from which I derive great pleasure? Not really. I've always felt that the act of writing isn't nearly as enjoyable as the feeling that comes from "having written." So why do I do it? Well, after careful consideration I've come to believe that had I been even a moderately successful communicator in my formative years, I would feel little compulsion to communicate now. This leads me to wonder, would it have been appropriate to have told the journalist that I write these vanity cards because I was incapable of expressing myself as a youngster, a situation which caused me unbearable anguish and is only now beginning to dissipate? Maybe. But I didn't. I told him I write them because it's fun. And this leads me to a question: if he's writing about my writing, what kind of miserable childhood did he have?

some are funny, some are insightful, some are personal. there are many more (213 and counting) on this archive.
check it out.

THE MISERY OF JON ARBUCKLE

my elementary school used to have some sort of arrangement with a book seller. once a week, we'd get a pamphlet of books for sale. i think it was called The Weekly Reader. i'm sure the idea was to encourage reading but most kids would spend their parents' money on the babysitters' club, maybe a choose your own adventure book or some mad libs. not exactly mind expanding literature. my investment was in comic strips and for a period of 5th grade, i was mildly amused by Garfield books.

years later, i noticed something that entirely changed the comic in my mind. most of the strips are of Jon Arbuckle and his cat Garfield. Jon speaks to Garfield and he responds. my revelation was that Jon's speaking appears in a speech balloon above his head while Garfield's replies are in thought bubbles. little clouds. while Jon is having this conversation out loud, Garfield is having an inner monologue. to the reader, it's an interactive conversation, but in Jon Arbuckle's reality, he's talking to his silent house cat.

then, some time ago, while wondering if anyone else thought this was weird, i came across a site in which someone removed all of Garfield's thought bubbles. it made the comic as if you were witnessing the comic first hand. a lonely guy having conversations with himself.

i thought of it again today for some reason and tried to find the site. instead, i found something even better. its called GARFIELD MINUS GARFIELD.

instead of just taking out Garfield's thoughts, which Jon can't hear anyway, someone omitted Garfield entirely. without the distraction of the orange cat's presence, you get a clear look at how deep Jon Arbuckle's problems really are. here's a sample...

(click to enlarge)

"Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb."

-from garfieldminusgarfield

there are a lot more here. head over and take a ride on the roller coaster that is the fractured, unstable psyche of Jon Arbuckle.

BRAIN SEX

just another interesting British documentary. this one is about the physiological differences of the brain depending on gender. i thought the part about the size of ones ring finger in relation to prenatal testosterone levels especially interesting.

its approximately 50 minutes long.




UPDATE: i found 2 more videos from the BBC's 'Secrets of The Sexes' series. this one is about a study into attraction:



this one is a study about love:

JURY DUTY

a couple months ago, i received a summons in the mail stating that i had been selected for jury duty. it was a familiar looking envelope as i'd received one around the same time last year, and also the year before that. it would seem that i am the poster boy for the model juror. the first two times, when i called in the night before to check the status and make sure i would still be needed, i was notified that my services would not be required. this time, they were.

first off, when i made my call in the night before, there was an automated message saying they no longer validated parking or provided any discounts for parking. since i had to report to the court of common pleas in the heart of Philadelphia, i would almost certainly have to put my car in a garage, setting me back at least $20 since i had no idea how long i'd have to stay there. i decided the train was a more economical way to go. what could have been a 15 minute drive became a $9 round trip ticket and a 45 minute railroad commute.

i got there 10 minutes early and had to pass through a security checkpoint. my bag went through an x-ray machine as i repeatedly failed to make it past the metal detectors without sounding the alarm. eventually i succeeded only to be pulled aside and reprimanded by the officers for having my cell phone in my bag. they demanded that i check it in at a desk in the lobby. i did so, then went back and set the alarms off another half dozen times.

i was directed to a large room and given a couple forms to fill out. 20 or so yes or no questions to test my impartiality. i filled them out at my seat, sitting amongst at least 200 other annoyed Philadelphians. periodically, a woman went up to a microphone and called out 40 names and sent them off to a civil or criminal trial. in between these announcements, i got to listen to the woman on my left vent her frustrations about civil duties and the fellow on my right poorly crack after everything that came out of the p.a. system. they both eventually got called away for jury panels. my name was never called.

hour 1: i mainly just sat quietly filling out my paperwork and listening for my name.

hour 2: the lady to my left began to get irate and let me know about all the things she's rather be doing. we were also privy to an instructional video about how fill out the forms in case anyone had doubt on how to answer yes or no questions.

hour 3: i got up and walked around the room. i tried to go out in the hallway, just to explore a little bit, but was quickly stopped by a couple boys in blue. i thought it was weird that they had guards posted. i went back to my seat and started reading, secretly devising the most intricate escape plan possible in my head.

hour 4: i read and intermittently gave a chuckle to the guy next to me as he tried to make jokes. i wouldn't have been shocked if he'd have opened his jacket to reveal a spinning, polka-dot bow tie. it was that level of comedic genius.

hour 5: i read. the woman next to me got called for a civil trial. she wasn't happy about it at all since it meant she had to walk all the way to city hall (a block away).

hour 6: i read and sketched. the jokester got called for a trial and told me he was going to tell the judge that he was on anti-psychotics.

hour 7.5: i was given a check for $9 and dismissed. cartwheels through the city's center ensued in celebration of my new found wealth.

honestly, prior to this ordeal, i was a little excited to be a juror (as hard as that may be to believe). i know most people dread the experience. there's something compelling to me about the power of justice. the authority of decision. i do live in a major city which held the record last year for homicides, so i figured that the chances of having an exciting case were in my favor. probably the first time in my life i was really hoping to meet the king of a drug cartel or a serial killer. the anticlimactic disorganization of the day dashed that feeling. the excitement fizzled out entirely around hour five.

i did manage to read an entire book (on a weekday no less), and i enjoyed a free, warm piece of apple spice cake... so, it wasn't a total loss.

SYNC FLOYD

the band Pink Floyd has been tied to a lot of movies ever since VCR's and video cassettes became mainstream commodities. they've scored several movies in the past (The Wall, More), but their music has been recently linked to several films with which they have no official affiliation.

many people have likely heard about the connection between their "Dark Side Of The Moon" album with The Wizard of Oz. its definitely the most talked about. if you start the album at the third roar of the MGM lion at the beginning of the movie, the audio and visual seem to be connected.
have a look:

the wailing singer through the tornado scene and the lyrical coincidences relating to the Glinda and Scarecrow scenes seem almost too coincidental to be an accident. it is an accident, though. one i suspect was first discovered by a group of multi-tasking teenagers with a fair amount of weed.

lesser known is the synchronization of Pink Floyd's 23+ minute song "Echoes" (the final track from Meddle) with the final chapter of Stanley Kubrick's film, 2001: A Space Odyssey. i think this one is way cooler. one of my favorite songs with one of my favorite movies. not only is it more abstract and almost perfectly timed, but it could have potentially been done on purpose. Kubrick asked the band if he could use songs from Atom Heart Mother for the soundtrack. they denied the request. Roger Waters later stated it as one of his biggest regrets. Could they have written the song after the movie came out as an homage to what could have been?
you decide:

while searching for these full length videos, i came across one i never attempted before. i have tried Alice In Wonderland paired with the soundtrack to The Doors movie (which is actually really cool and quite obviously, totally coincidental), but never with Pink Floyd's The Wall. it seems to work out pretty well.
enjoy:

i could write out a list of interesting coincidences between the music and the correlating flicks, but i think its more intriguing to watch it yourself and see what you notice. intentional or not, its fun to experience something so familiar in a whole new way. again, i think a big "thank you" should go out to drugs for making these discoveries possible.