Monday, December 31, 2012

The Sound of Malarkey


Question:  When you take two sick people and lock them up in a house with two healthy people for a few days, what do you get?  Two more extremely sickly unhappy people, that's what!  This is how I seem to have come down with my current case of cooties/Ebola/Avian flu/SARS/whatever.  And while at this point it has pretty much run its course, the last few days have been truly delightful.  And by delightful I mean dreadfully wretched.  Nothing I like more than having my skin turn the color of an eggshell, not be able to breathe through my nose and have extended coughing and hacking fits.  O, the fun never stops.  And the last little bit is holding on for dear life, regardless of how many near-lethal combinations of OTC drugs I ingest.  I pump enough meds in me to see the future and converse in Aramaic with the purple spiders climbing the walls but still can't get rid of a little congestion.  sigh. 

Anyways, to attempt to drive this thing into the ground, I decided to take a rare sick day and do nothing for a while.  And sleeping in was lovely and all but after a while I got really really bored.  I'm not one of those people who can just sleep all day.  I need to be doing something, anything or I start to get a little nuts.  But since standing up was not an extended option and I didn't want to barrel roll my way through the house to get from Point A to Point B, I was a little limited in my potential activities.  

Luckily, I happen to have an extensive DVD collection.  And in that collection is one movie that I have always just absolutely loved:  The Sound of Music.  Odd, I know.  Not that it's an odd movie by any means, just probably what most people would think of as an odd choice for me.  But I always liked watching it when I was little and still love to do so now.  When I was younger, if I was in a rush I would just pop in the second tape so I could see Maria and the Captain get together and then outwit the Nazis.  Sound of Music Cliff Notes!  Sound of Music for the ADHD!  Hurrah!  I actually have two different super-DVD versions of it because each one had newimprovedneverbeforeseen extras that I had to have

So since I was going to be bed-ridden for a while, I decided to pop the movie in since 1. it's like a film version of chicken noodle soup for me—kind of a visual comfort food and 2. it's a super long movie and would help eat up some serious time in an otherwise long and dull day.  Usually I go on mental screensaver when watching, just kind of enjoying the images flashing by while not really processing anything.  But, perhaps because of my drugged-out state, I happened to really tune in to one particular section and realized for the first time that it was complete and utter bullshit.  An affront to my sensibilities.  An inaccurate assumption of logic.  And an odd choice for a Christmas song to boot. 

That's right, I am talking about "My Favorite Things."  Realizing this was like being re-born.  A completely new level of consciousness was achieved with this discovery.  And perhaps something in the chemical cocktail swirling through my bloodstream had something to do with my next reaction.  Cue the rage.  "This is complete crap!" I shouted to my little football-shaped cat, Tsukoshi, as I threw up my hands in exasperation.  "This is completely ridiculous!  Who on earth has these kinds of favorite things?  This is the stupidest list I've ever heard of!  It's like a second-grader's list of best friends!  Too long and completely random!  It's like a stream-of-consciousness list of minutiae!"  Tsukoshi carefully considered my argument, yawned in disgust at the banality of it all, rolled over and turned her back on the whole business.  Either that or she just completely ignored me and went back to sleep after my shouting and flailing around woke her up.  But I choose to believe that she was in complete agreement with my assessment of the situation. 

This song is now the bane of my existence and as I have become born-again as a result of my new higher consciousness, I believe it is my duty to inform the unsuspecting public of the truth behind the lies.  Let's examine this bit of tripe line for line, shall we?

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
If I am looking at raindrops on roses then that means that I am stuck outside in the rain.  Never pleasant.  It gets in your shoes, soaks your socks, ruins your hair, and is generally not a fun experience.  So right off the bat we are a bust with raindrops on roses.  Unless they have been painted on a black velvet background and cheaply framed.  The only thing that beats it then is a sweaty jump-suited Elvis or a rearing unicorn with a rainbow at its back although they are all clearly better than a clown with a tear running down its painted cheek.  I do so love the black velvet genre.  Nothing is nearly as deliciously tacky.  As far as whiskers on kittens goes, in my experience they are typically being used to wake me up at 3am because my nocturnal fuzzball has decided that she need some attention, stat!  So really, I'm not particularly fond of either of these things and they definitely do not qualify as a favorite thing of mine or, I suspect, anyone else. 

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Seriously, people.  Function does not equal favorite.  I'm beginning to think that Maria was a bit addled.  She may have been spending a little too much time with the lonely goatherd, if you know what I mean.

Brown paper packages tied up with strings
Good lord, I've barely begun and already I'm ready to climb the walls with how stupid this whole thing is.  I mean, really?  Really?  Maybe I'm just a product of the media's brainwashing, but if I saw a brown paper package tied up with string I'd want to call the Bomb Squad, not mince around in my nightgown gibbering about a bad wrapping job.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
It seems to me that the bar has been set just a touch low.  Maybe Maria was just really easy to please.  Simple mind, simple pleasures, something like that.  Has anyone here ever been just tickled pink over a door bell?  If so, I'm taking you off my friend list.  On a separate note, who even eats schnitzel with noodles?  In all my time in Germany and Austria I've never seen it served this way.  And if your apple strudel is really crisp I would think that it had been sitting out too long and was stale.  I also imagine that a cream colored pony would be akin to having a white car—shows all the dirt in the world.  So it certainly wouldn't be cream colored for long.  This woman is getting on my nerves more and more with each passing line….

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
Other than the fact that I know what the Latin name is for geese (Branda Canadensis), the only thing that I think about whenever any bird flies over my head is that I hope it's not going to poop on me.  That stuff is murder to get out of your hair!  And yes, I know it's random that I know the Latin name.  No, I don't know how I know it's just one of those random things that sticks in your head forever, like the lyrics to the Muppet Show.  Still, not a favorite thing however poetically she phrases it. 

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Again, not really something that should be on your list of All-Time Faves unless you're from 1943.  Or a pedophile.  Either way.

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into Springs
Snowflakes that stay on my eyelashes would be annoying in the extreme.  You'd have to keep fluttering your eyes, trying to get them off and people might think you're having a fit.  And snowflakes on your nose will melt and make your nose all runny and probably contribute to you getting a nasty cold.  And while I'm all for spring, especially after a cold winter, does it really count as a favorite thing?  I mean, for something to be your favorite I would think it would need to be something with a little weight behind it, not just something that you kinda like.  Unless you're incredibly vapid and just happen to be sixteen going on seventeen.  Ohmigod I love Justin Bieber!  I love One Direction!  I love Channing Tatum!  I love Hot Topic!  I love the mall!  I love my pink and silver Sketchers!  ::gag::  I'm starting to feel more and more personally offended, the further into this nonsense I get.

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad.
And now we get to easily the most egregious part of the whole ditty.  I've gotta tell ya, if I've just been mauled by a pit bull, thinking about warm woolen mittens isn't going to distract me a whole hell of a lot.  And if I'm busy going into anaphylactic shock after a chance encounter with the hive, giddily reflecting on how much I'm dearly in love with doorbells isn't going to reverse the effects.  This is clearly advice for an idiot. 

Now perhaps it was never an over-medicated illness but simply possession by dark spirits that has caused me to rotate 180 degrees on my formerly beloved movie musical.  But really, this insipid song is quite possibly the worst ever written and should be burned in effigy as far as I'm concerned.  Nothing mentioned in the song should be a favorite thing for anyone with anything more than an elementary-school education.  And since I'm ranting on the silliness of some of the musical selections in this movie, allow me to bring up another point that has annoyed me ever since I first saw this film.

Now, I understand the construct of a movie musical.  And I am more than willing to suspend my disbelief at the necessary points.  I know that in reality, people do not burst into song as exposition or at certain climactic moments in the narrative.  And for the most part I am totally okay with the excessive non-realism although even I have my limits.  Pretty much any of the old-school musicals annoy me to varying degrees.  Oklahoma, West Side Story, Carousel—all a bunch of hooey.  I don't buy the characters and I find it impossible to suspend my disbelief.  Oddly enough, I'm down with whatever Lloyd Weber would like to throw at me.  So the people wrapped in foil whooshing around on roller skates are really singing, emoting trains?  No prob.  Jellicle cats?  No worries.  But the dance-belt-wearing Sharks and Jets as gang members?  I think not. 

But I digress.  Even though up until a few days ago I was cool with nearly the whole Sound of Music experience, one part has always perplexed and annoyed me.  SPOILER ALERT!  After battling each other's past, personality quirks and prejudices, dancing around the impending Nazi advance, climbing ev'ry mountain, fording ev'ry stream and outmaneuvering a bratty baroness, Maria and the Captain finally realize their love for each other.  The movie has been building and building to this point and honestly we're, what? seven, eight hours in at this point?  This is a hellishly long film!  Anyways, they've finally worked around to the goddamn gazebo, they kiss, he tells her he loves her and she responds by…….bursting into song.  The hell?  Even as a child this struck me as wrong.  It totally brings me out of the moment.  As soon as the orchestra swells I'm done.  For whatever reason, I have never been able to just go with it for this sequence.  I have no issues with The Lonely Goatherd, but My Favorite Things and Something Good make me go from calm to enraged in approximately 2.5 seconds.  It has always driven me crazy and continues to do so now.  So instead of just zoning out and getting a little rest the other day, I spent it shouting obscenities at the screen until I was hoarse and bemoaning the state of entertainment these days because of these two songs.  It offends my delicate sensibilities, I tell you.  That, and I probably just need to ease up on the Nyquil…

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