I haven't seen it yet, but I find michael moore very entertaining. He's a sharp one, just a bit manipulative for me.
It's been ages since I watched the news, I havent put much stock in anything from any news network.I used to catch bits on the local news about some third grade teacher who had her class do somthing nice for the community, or the elderly couple confounded as to how a muskrat got loged in one of their above ground pool "cleanin tubes." I'm sure "some" would agree with me when I say, "this hardly qualifies as news". But now that I live in NYC I dont even have to watch the news, i see it on peoples faces. If I do happen to catch even a few seconds on say, a cabbie's radio, it's always Bush did this blah blah blah, Iraq that blah. And even if its not that it's somthing else thats no fun to hear, shootings, beatings, hearsay about shit politcal moves that are going to change the way me or someone else lives i.e. not being able to smoke in bars. But I feel I am much better off avoiding the news at all costs, I mean some people hang on every word the news folk say and they are all having this constant freak out in the back of their heads that totally shows up in their everyday lives.
I'll tell you a story of mine that happened just the other night:
I work on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, this area of town is fairly wealthy, and ridiculously safe even when compared to the Disneyland they have turned Times Sq. into. I had a closing shift this particular night and was more than slightly annoyed that as we were closing customers kept comin right on in. We recently had a large staff turnover and our new general mgr. is a rather "soft" man fresh picked from Brazil. He speaks less english than our bus-boy Javier. He speaks the english decent enough at least, his words are intelligible. But his sentences dont quite add up. As my torturous and unrelenting evening begins to wind down, everyone splits, dumping the uphill battle of shoo-ing the customers out in my most polite manner(all I can say is, its a damn good thing I'm southern). Leaving Myself Brazil boy and the very girly girl hostess. . . Oh, and Javier of course, with the last of the patrons who just wont take a fucking hint. Our sweet hostess, being detained at work only by the free boozy-drink she scored of one of the leftover alkies, finally decides to make her exit, when to her dismay she is unable to push the door open. I know what your thinking and no, It wasnt a pull. There happend to be a large non-descript heavy box blocking the door. Immediatly she was fearing for her life, she still managed to trot gracefully back to where Myself and Brazil's Finest Export were in a slowly simmering debate of simple common sense. We were made aware of the situation, and I made light of it, and my humor was totally wasted and unappreciated by them. This further annoyed me and I stared our helpless and ineffectual manager in his dopey, vacuous face and said " Well Boss, this is quite a situation we've got here, do you want to check it out for yourself or should I go ahead and dial 911?" He seemed not to hear me, which is the norm. " Jimbo. . . Jimmy, James!" he finally moved some muscles in his face. " I . . tink. . .I'n gointa take a loook, for mysef." Some of the leftovers got wind of the commotion, and those who weren't good and sloshed began to ease into panic one by one. Turning white and whispering were a few reactions among the sober, but nobody wanted to be the first to freak out. Jimbo, crept up on the front door, keeping his dumb stare fixed on the package through the glass. Eventually he tried to open the door and found that in actuality there was a largish heavy box blocking the way of the door. Our #1 in command, Captian James, master of the obvious, slowly walked back to us to reveal his findings. "Ha-veer, wud you mine move that box from doutside?" Javier just looked at him, much like a puppy looks at a person trying to get it to fill out their tax forms. "Wull I jusdunno what. . to do, who shud I call?." I was as visibly iritated as I get, which means that inside I had all the stupid and naive people in the world lined up and was shooting their kneecaps and genetalia in no particular order (so they wouldnt breed any longer and that they would feel pain similar to the one they put in my head) one person at a time, starting with everyone in that room(except Javier, who just didn't want to move the box because he didn't feel like it, and I can respect that). "Jesus f-ing C! " I bellowed, to my own astonishment cos' I dont say that. "Am I the only usefull human being that works here!" This is especially funny because I am terrible at my job and its no secret. After another short staring contest I wheeled around still talking loudly about how ridiculous it was to be afraid of a damn box that was dropped off at a place of business. I pushed an open space in the door till I could fit out, whipped out my trusty pocket-knife (I wasn't a boy scout or anything I just happen to know a few well enough for the whole "be prepared" thing to rub off), cut open the box and lo! there were girlie mags pilled to the brim. Not quite a skin mag, but you know, hot mostly nude girls in suggestive poses. Naturally I went from angry dwarf to hardly being able to contain myself as I pressed the covergirl up to the window with satisfied sarcasm. Turns out the box was a promotional one and our establishment had agreed just earlier that evening to make free copies available.
All that said, I'm becoming of the opinion that it may be more damaging for your health to watch the news then to, say smoke cigs, or eat right before you go swimming.
Hope someone was entertained by my silly story, I know it's a bit long and possibly in the wrong thread, especially since I haven't seen the movie, but shit like this really makes me sad. I had to get it off my perfectly bow-flex sculpted chest.
THE CHECK IS IN THE MAIL