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The Fancy Plans Guide to AFI’s Top 100 Films: Volume Whatever

June 7, 2011

Take that, world. Here it is: the final installment of a series I tried to will into non-existence via misnumbering and inattentiveness. But it proved too strong to be defeated by inactivity and is now proudly counting itself among the “published.” Enjoy?

Hepburn signals her lower-class upbringing with a typically shite umbrella.

91. My Fair Lady (1964)
Rex Reed and Audrey Hepburn star in this classic musical which illustrates the old adage (often through song) that with the proper amount of training, any woman can be transformed into a useful (and non-embarrassing) human being, even a woman sporting a horrific Cockney accent and a whorish mouth.

While many women today may find this depiction condescending at best, its defenders like to point out that My Fair Lady was made back in the pre-bra burning mid-60s when it was still “cool” to portray women as out of their depth operating anything more complicated than a roast or a lawn jockey. They’ll also point out that it’s a “love story” which apparently excuses all of its offenses, as does the inclusion of a “shitload of singing.”

"A devastatingly hilarious caption."

92. A Place in the Sun (1951)
Cancun.

Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine run from OSHA inspectors after violating the "Lock-Out/Tag-Out" policy.

93. The Apartment (1960)
Beating Mad Men to the punch by nearly a half-century, Billy Wilder’s comedy depicts the misadventures of a pair of ad execs who decide use a colleague’s apartment as a fuck pad. Wackiness ensues, heavily tinged with soul-searching drama. (So much so in fact, that by the second reel you’ll find yourself yelling at the screen, “Check the nightstand! I’m sure I saw you put your soul in there! You set it right next to your spare watch!”)

Unfortunately, the soul-searching continues for much of the running time, leading to conflict and threats of changing the locks. By the end they’ve found their watches and not much else, forcing them to forge on as soulless ad execs, a condition that helps them “fit in” better at the office.

From left to right: Sweary Van Browington, Raspy McFBomb and Happy "Kill Crazy" Headpuncher.

94. GoodFellas (1990)
Martin Scorsese heads into unfamiliar territory with this period gangster flick, featuring the acting talent of Ray Liotta’s furrowed brow and the highest number of F-bombs to ever appear in a mainstream motion picture. When not splattering the walls and car trunks with blood, Liotta’s gangster character is splattering your inner ear with endless variations of “fuck.” The rest of the cast joins in, raising the ratio of fucks-to-normal-words to an all-time high of 77-to-1, shattering the 58:1 ratio set by Nash Pluto. (Statisticians point out that a majority of the “fucks” were uttered by audience members who wished to know “What the fuck is this bullshit?” and “Where the fuck can I get a refund?” Also recorded: “The fuck?”, “Is this supposed to be a fucking comedy?” and “Six bucks for a fucking soda?”)

Original poster photo rejected by Quentin Tarantino as being "too shoesy."

95. Pulp Fiction (1994)
Released in conjunction with my 20th birthday (which would make me old enough to be someone’s dad — twice), Pulp Fiction was the first of two seminal pop culture touchstones to share in the unbridled joy that is the day of my birth. (The other is Fatboy Slim’s second album, You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby.)

Quentin Tarantino’s hotly anticipated followup to Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction is a pop culture repository, featuring knowing winks to such kitsch items as Modesty Blaise and Clutch Cargo. It was also a comeback vehicle for John Travolta, who briefly started reading script summaries and showing some selectivity before throwing caution to the wind and cranking out film after goodwill-pulverizing film.

On the other hand, he and Tarantino did manage to resuscitate a moribund heroin market with their tastefully shot ode to shooting up. Just remember, kids: always the veins, never the nose.

Reviewers praised John Wayne's "restrained perspiration."

96. The Searchers (1956)
Dark proto-noir-western featuring a relatively understated John Wayne as a hat-wearing cow person hot on the trail of a gang of kidnappers. Famous for its signature shot of Wayne standing emotively in an empty doorway, as well as for its willingness to turn genre expectations on their collective ear. Explores themes of redemption, often through the use of iconic doorway shots, paving the way for a new wave of nihilist Westerns directed by many Western nihilists.

Nothing brings up "baby" faster than a chain smoking father figure and another non-chain smoking father figure.

97. Bringing Up Baby (1938)
Another Depression-era screwball comedy centering on a couple’s misadventures while raising a jaguar (the titular “Baby”). Hijinks (often of the “screwball” variety) ensue, until the final reel when the “Baby” turns on its owners, slaughtering one and maiming the other before going on a kill-crazy rampage. This rampage comes to a halt thanks to a “pushed to the edge” Charles Bronson, who seems to find the “violent revenge” business agreeable and starts up a few “kill-crazy” rampages of his own. The nadir of ’70s dystopian filmmaking with a 30+ year headstart.

Viewers found themselves confused during long scenes of Clint Eastwood staring at his own back.

98. Unforgiven (1992)
Yet another depressing deconstructionist Western, only two spaces removed from the last one, as AFI continues their downhill coast to #100, grabbing names they’ve heard of and shoving them onto the list.

Unforgiven takes place in the seldom-discussed part of the West where it’s always night and it’s always raining. As is the case with most “avenging a hooker’s disfiguration” films, Unforgiven is chock full of iconic shots of a very tired and iconic Clint Eastwood standing in various iconic doorways (and rainstorms).

Hepburn and Tracy brace themselves for the inevitable culture clash (accomplished mainly by staying white and square).

99. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)
Longtime closeted couple Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn star as the uptight, mildly racist parents of a college student who insists on shaking up the status quo by bringing home her new, non-white boyfriend, Mr. Tibbs. A majority of the running time is given over to uptight discussions of the impending blackness, broken up with a second storyline where Poitier’s character deals with even more uptightness at the hands of the local law enforcement he was sent to help.

An IMPORTANT FILM, delivering the message that black people are no different than white people, except they’re more “black” and prone to causing uptightness in insular whites like Spencer Tracy, Katherine Hepburn and Rod Steiger. Look for a young Rob Reiner as adorable loser, Meathead.

Cagney plays against type as some sort of rouge-sporting, hat-wearing showgirl.

100. Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)
Released during the height of American patriotism, Yankee Doodle Dandy sings and dances its way into the final spot on AFI’s list, presumably pushing John Wayne’s The Green Berets to 101. Filled with cheerfully positive tunes such as “Buy War Bonds,” “Save Your Nylons for the Boys Overseas,” “Buy More War Bonds,” and “Necessity is the Mother of Temporarily Useful Female Employees.”

Very much a product of its time as evidenced by its disastrous re-release during the height of the Vietnam War, tanking miserably at the box office despite the hasty insertion of the timely song-and-dance numbers “Hell No, We Won’t Go!” and “Icn Bin Ein Newly-Minted Canadian, Motherfuckers!”

-CLT

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Heavy Rotation 73: The CLT Self-Promo Edition

May 30, 2011

Elizabeth asked for some links so that she can keep track of where else I’ve been writing. I’m going to do a complete link dump of everything I have published elsewhere. I’ll also be adding a few tracks for some background music.

Going forward, I’m going to trim back the Heavy Rotation to three tracks per week (theoretically). Not that I don’t have a huge backlog of awesome music to share, but that 20-30 minutes is a lot of time to ask anyone to invest in a single post. Speaking for myself, I know I’d have trouble sitting on one single page of the internet that long, so I’m not going to be asking (or demanding, via blogguilt) anyone else to do it.

You may have noticed there are four tracks in this Rotation, which would seem to indicate the exact opposite of what I just said. Let me explain: one of those is a mashup, and so it actually is part of a Sonic Collision and not part of this Heavy Rotation. (Although it will go headerless for maximum confusion). Enjoy.

THE LI N K D  U  M    P

Techdirt.com

Capitalist Lion Tamer (that’s me!) Profile Link.
(Use this link to see everything I’ve written for Techdirt, including comments. Handy!)

If you’re short on time, here’s some of my favorites:

The Bygone Bureau

The Big Jewel

Defenestration Magazine

Enough about me. On to the music.

Mirrors – Ways to an End.mp3

This track by Mirrors is like getting hit in the ears with a Louisville slugger made out of nostalgia (and some ash — for weight). This is the crystalline pure pop bliss of OMD and the Pet Shop Boys. If you close your eyes, you can see impossibly/impeccably dressed people (often with shoulder pads and sleeves incomprehensibly hiked up) doing impossibly/impeccably cool things (often involving chrome and neon) with this as background music. If you close your eyes for long enough, you’ll feel like John Hughes presiding over a cast of next-big-things, most of whom will flameout spectacularly. (Including John Hughes.) Don’t close them for too long, though, otherwise people might actually think you’re John Hughes and start divvying up your estate. Hat tip to MEK for shooting this my way.

Von Haze – Outsyd Tha Nite (White Car Remix) (Salem Re-edit).mp3

Usually too many cooks are bad news, what with their constant fucking around, spoiling the broth and angling for book deals. But in this case, Von Haze gets re-rubbed by not one, but two, remixers, resulting in this wall-of-despondent-sound that edges close enough to triumphant to not get completely distraught and head off into the woods to do damaging things to itself. The vocals get pitched down to the sub-bass level of rolling Gothic thunder and skittering drum patterns slide across the murky tones without ever finding a foothold.

Tyskerhar – Oh.mp3

I’m not going to say much about this one, other than once Tyskerhar’s track gets into your head, it’s not coming out. Not for awhile. And then you’ll be stuck singing the chorus, over and over again, most of which is composed of the one-word track title. There’s a word for this: nefarious.  So, what can you do? Do what I did. Force it into the brains of others, sit back and watch the contagious collateral damage. It’s like a yawn, only catchier.

….

DJ Topcat – The Safety Booty (Men Without Hats vs. Bubba Sparxx).mp3

Topcat gives up something that couldn’t be more appropriate (and inappropriate, in terms of subject matter) if it tried: a bootie about booty. Asstacular!

DJ Topcat

-CLT

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This Explains Nothing

May 25, 2011
[Note to readers: my fishing license has been revoked. I’m not looking for reassurance. I’m trying to work something out using the few tools I have available.]

It’s been long, too long since I’ve posted anything of value in here. Well, I’ve posted plenty of stuff, mainly music-related, but no original writing. Apologies all around and apologies in advance is this piece goes long/gets weird/gets tiresome/has too many parentheses.

Quite honestly, I’m working through some weird sort of writer’s block. It’s not normal writer’s block as I’ve been doing quite a bit of work over at Techdirt. Given context and a starting point, I’m doing fine. Coming up with something on my own? Not so much.

Now I do enjoy the Techdirt gig, with all of its attendant “getting published elsewhere” glory and included perk of being able to say I write for Techdirt, something that probably will remain more important to me than anyone else but still won’t prevent me from name-dropping it frequently (often inside this very post) in hopes that it will somehow turn into a well-paying career for a respectable publisher that isn’t currently going out of business.

On the downside, it does tend to use up a lot of what I used to refer to as my “free time.” I feel bad that I’ve let this blog kind of slide, but the other thing is very shiny and new and I haven’t been doing it for 2+ years and so it kind of gets priority thanks to my willingness to be entranced by novel experiences.

(But not actual “novel experiences.” Like many others, I harbor the secret [but not so secret now, is it?] desire to write a Novel. [Capitalized so as to be easily identified as Something With Pretensions Toward Greatness.] I have some unorganized scrawlings in some notebooks and some ideas that float around, but nothing substantial, so you can all stop holding your breath. Or start holding it, and then stop, just as a favor to me.)

Let me take a moment here before this all goes downhill/sideways and tell you how grateful I am for your comments and compliments over the past 2+ years. No matter what I say from this point on, remember that.

(I’m serious. It is important that you know that I highly value your readership. Especially considering how flaky I have been lately about responding to comments and posting entertaining articles. [And nobody mention Tanager. I really need to go answer those comments. If you don’t bring it up, I won’t feel nearly as shitty as I do everytime I look in there and see the dust gathering.])

From this point on, I have nothing prepared. I am winging this in hopes that a breakthrough occurs as I ramble on, hopefully to some sort of conclusion or enlightenment.

BOLD STATEMENT OF NON-INTENT

Do you know what people hate more than poor writing? Writers bitching about writing.

Therefore, there will be no complaints beyond this point. Just positive stuff with the occasional bitterness. (Directed at nobody in particular — the best kind of bitterness. It’s the kind of unfocused bitterness that makes family reunions and office retirement parties the kind of excruciating event you wished you had the callousness to just say, “You know what, I’d rather drag my unprotected eyes across a stack of thin cardboard that’s been dipped in margarita salt than hang out here any longer.” We could say those sorts of things. We honestly could. We’d be branded “misanthropic” or “fired” but at least we wouldn’t have to make any more small talk about Aunt Whoever’s prize-winning quilt pattern or the 40+ years of middle management by the guest of honor.)

HERE’S WHAT I HAVE LEARNED FROM BLOGGING

It’s hard. It’s fulfilling. It’s sometimes scarily easy. It’s its own reward occasionally. There are way too many smart and funny people* out there. The overall ratio of smart/funny to the rest of the internet may be low, but I don’t read stupid or unentertaining blogs, so I can’t give you any stats.

*See also: the blogroll. If your name is on there, then you are who I am talking about.

Sometimes I stare at the blog and hate it for needing my help. Without me (or RF) cranking out posts, it does nothing. A week goes by and I’ve got nothing and I start to feel like a cybersquatter. “No one’s taking this name. If for no other reason, this stays live. I’ve got a brand to maintain.” (“Maintain” apparently meaning posting intermittently with a definite lack of cohesion.)

I have this blog on my RSS feeds. Why? Because it looks more professional when it shows up there. I find it inspiring. (I also find it narcisstic. But I want to try to remain positive.) The simple, clean lines of the RSS feed show up with a lot of established blogs and it feels good to me. “Look at it go! Hanging out with Marginal Revolution! And Cato@Liberty! And Techdirt! (Again. I warned you.)

Google Reader allows me to flatter myself. That’s got to be the most unintended use ever. I’m sure beta testers never stumbled across that “feature.”

POSSIBLY RELATED ANECDOTE

I used to work as a DJ in a bar. And it was fun. It was the most fun I’d had while still earning money. I could drink and play music and get paid. I did this for a few years until the management decided they wanted to chase out The Dance Crowd and replace them with The Rock Crowd, mainly to get rid of The Black Crowd.

And I played along. And then I left. I quit and moved halfway across the country to kill what was left of my soul with a nine-month stint as occasional boyfriend and stand-in dad for the last woman I dated before meeting my wife. This fell apart in 9 months or so and I returned to the town I left and reclaimed the job I left.

Why? Well, because I could. DJing is easy. Things had changed and the bar was back to at least being all-inclusive as long as sales were good. But it didn’t last. And then management made the same decision. The employees fought it but I was right back in the job I loved hating every minute of it. I was no longer a DJ. I was just some guy playing records for money, catering to a crowd that wanted to be somewhere else, working for people he didn’t respect.

So I drank more. And more often. I handled this soul-crushing, whorish job like anyone else would: I attempted to set some stuff in the employee restroom on fire and got canned.

Related how?

I’m not sure. Something about how doing the thing(s) you love can still be heaped full of suck occasionally. In the bar case, it was external. (Except for the drinking. That was all me.) Here, it’s internal. Sometimes it’s a mixed blessing. Other times, it’s hangs all over everything like an overly talkative acquaintance, hammering away at you with inanities and sucking away your inspiration. (Again, internally.) You want to do the things you love, except sometimes you can’t find the easy joy in those things. The upside is this is usually temporary.

My brain is bricked. But it will be back. It’s happened before. I’ve written my way through (once). I’ve waited it out (once). This is some of each.

-CLT

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CLT Recommends: N A T T Y M A R I

May 17, 2011

I rarely dedicate an entire post to single artist but when I do, I mean it, maaaan. I’ve spent some time and several hundred words expounding on the virtues of Rraaiillss’ new wave of classic altrock. I’ve spent a few hundred more pushing Whitey’s incredible blend of electro-rock and caustic lyrics. And now I’m here to push another worthy artist straight down your earholes.

N A T T Y M A R I

Nattymari is an unusual beast. With a name copped from ultra-weird import hit “Katamari Damacy” and combined with a reggae descriptor, Nattymari both covers up his blacker-than-black productions and tips a cap towards his dub progenitors. His pitch-shifted blend of corrupted noise is built on the back of the following monstrosities (from the man himself):

“The clippy sounds of lo-bitrate mp3s,the buzz of blown speakers, cassette hiss and warble, the sound of a tape with a bend, where you hear the other side backwards for a few moments…”

There’s no term in existence for what Nattymari does. It’s not dubstep. It’s not industrial. And while he frequently rubs shoulders compilation-wise with plenty of witch house/drag artists, he’s not really that either.

For starters, he revels in the “artifacts of the medium.” You can hear the tape loop fuckery of Chrome and Throbbing Gristle ricocheting around the soundscape, slipping off the spindle now and then with a burst of Chipmunk speed or getting hung up in the gears and grinding to a halt.

Then there’s the pitched-down James Earl Jones-on-Quaaludes vocals as pioneered by the late, great DJ Screw, whose prolific productions warped the minds of a whole generation of southern hip hop fans, reclaiming dime-a-dozen braggadocio and turning it into a hellish incantation led by the most cocksure demons to walk the planet.

There’s more in there as well. Bursts of static destroy what came before them and alter everything that follows. Tinny, overdriven drum patterns drill fractal landscapes into the murky tar pit bubbling malevolently below it. Vocals elongate and compress randomly, often submerging entirely before clamoring to the surface, gasping for air desperately.

Nattymari – Pri$3 749.mp3

By this point, you’ve probably decided how this sits with you. By any stretch of the imagination, it’s not really what the uninitiated would call “music.” It certainly doesn’t present any sort of easily approachable front. It edges very close to antagonistic several times. But that’s where the genius lies.

This is music destroyed and rebuilt without a manual. This is the sum of the parts laid end to end and reformatted one by one. This is what creativity sounds like: the complete removal of waypoints in order to forge a new path.

There’s beauty in it as well. It’s often obscured and rarely left untroubled for more than few moments, but it’s there nonetheless. Take a listen to IIEVOL.

Nattymari – IIEVOL.mp3

The vocals are as troubled as they are troubling, like a villain left to die, his humanity reduced to a streak of tears and a pool of blood. Haunting snippets of Venice canal accordion emerge, along with a brief bit of nearly unaltered vocals, all of it awash in palpable sadness. And just as the pain subsides, the track morphs into a miniature tonepoem built on downed power lines and decayed radio signals.

The beauty is nothing without the juxtaposed destruction.

And there are moments where Nattymari, despite having every damaging tool at his disposal, surprises with something approaching hummable, like N477Y L1GH7.

Nattymari – N477Y L1GH7.mp3

There’s a stark simplicity in the buildup, an approachable beat that runs for nearly 40 seconds with a minimum of interference. (Although there’s just enough noisemaking to let you know that this is unmistakably Nattymari.) Once the whole thing kicks in, the screwed-down vocals glide effortlessly over the loops, occasionally slipping forward and backward as dictated by the fiend at the controls.

Sometimes nothing succeeds like restraint. In a perfect world, this could at least climb into the lower half of the Top 40, too “weird” to top the charts but catchy enough to pluck it from obscurity.

Look, I can’t sell you on Nattymari’s music. You’ll love it or you’ll hate it, but there’s no way you’re walking away completely unaffected. The greatest artists out there are the most divisive. I won’t drown him in oppressive comparisons and start tossing around names of the all-time great sonic abusers. It serves no purpose. Nattymari can get by on his own merits and name-dropping only draws attention away from his singular sound.

If you’d like get smacked around by some lurching, ramshackle death machines, follow these links:

http://www.youtube.com/user/nattymari?feature=mhee

http://soundcloud.com/nattymari

http://soundcloud.com/nattymari-1

http://soundcloud.com/nattymari2

http://nattymari-unfortunate-events.blogspot.com/

-CLT

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Sonic Collision 8

May 14, 2011

Another edition in what is swiftly becoming “THE ONLY THING I POST HERE ANYMORE.” Catchy, non? Apologies all around. Very busy. Tired a lot. Brain hurts. Brain refuses to cooperate and generate new funny/mindblowing/awkward/incisive material despite very clearly worded threats and cajoling. So, enjoy the music. I hope to have all systems back online shortly. Engage!

Previous wreckage here:
The Sonic Collision Archives

rikkirok – If Eminem Visited the Lawrence Welk Show.mp3

This is why time travel needs to be invented. So get on it, whoever it is that’s working on it and get back here and do things like this so we can all (as one people) blow the minds of squares back in the day. rikkirok drops Lose Yourself all over various bits of instrumental weightlessness. You can kind of feel it lose its footing here and there, but the moments that are on are dead on.

(Hat tip to my youngest brother for pointing this track out to me via The Facebook.)

via Mashuptown.com

DJ Clive$ter – Funky Dream (Empire of the Sun vs. Wild Cherry).mp3

Returning to the Collision, it’s DJ Clive$ter with this impeccably tight mashup which places Nu-Romantics Empire of the Sun front-and-center with the electrocowbell romping of Wild Cherry’s Funkytown riding backup. Gives Roller Boogie a run for its money.

DJ Clive$ter at Mashup Industries.

The Kleptones – The Underground Hand That Buttoned the Widow.mp3

I am honestly trying to not turn this inadvertently (or as it would seem now, advertently) into a “Kleptones of the Week” feature. Eric Kleptone (there’s actually not three of him) is just that fucking good. Plus, bschooled is taking a hiatus and we all know how much she loves her some “brother/sister” bluesy two-piece rock bands. (A lot, actually. Nearly as much as she loves her some “husband/wife” bluesy two-piece rock bands.)

So, this is some traveling music for the multi-talented writer/Facebook troll over at JMC.

Full sample list:

  • Primal Scream – Get Your Rocks Off
  • Aerosmith – Dude (Looks Like a Lady)
  • Nine Inch Nails – The Hand that Feeds
  • White Stripes – The Hardest Button to Button
  • Tori Amos – Professional Widow
  • Mirwais – Miss You
  • Radio 4 – Dance to the Underground

-CLT

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Sonic Collision 7

May 7, 2011

Diving back into the virtual crates for the elusive sound of the party in your head.

Previous wreckage here:
The Sonic Collision Archives

okiokinl – Satisfy Me (Fischerspooner vs. Elvis Presley).mp3

Netherlands DJ okiokinl hitches Elvis Presely’s swaggering A Little Less Conversation to Fischerspooner’s lurching electronic breakout hit, Emerge, with spectacular results. Be sure and check out his Official.fm page (linked below) for no fewer than 166 tracks (at last count), including an incredible (or incredulous, if you prefer) set of tracks marrying Joy Divison’s post-punk melodies with today’s pop tarts (Katy Perry, Destiny’s Child, Fergie, etc.)

okiokinl at Official.fm

smash – R U Gonna Be My T.V.mp3

Smash, an on-again, off-again mashup pioneer (mostly off — the last post on his site before dropping this track was from August 2010), found this kicking around his hard drive and released it, saving us all the trouble of mixing Jet’s iPod-whoring track RU Gonna Be My Girl with Tim Curry’s inimitable camp icon, Dr. Frankenfurter. Which is good, because we’d have just fucked it all up anyway.

More smash mashups.

The Kleptones – Welcome Back.mp3

The Kleptones have cranked out enough truly classic mashups in just the past two years that I could easily just rename this series “Kleptones of the Week” and still have enough material to run out the end of the year. It must be the unrepentant techno-head deep inside me that loves hearing Axl Rose’s twist his snarling whine around the acidic tones of early underground club classics like Joey Beltram’s Energy Flash and LFO by (oddly enough) LFO.

Full sample list:

  • Boney M. – Rivers of Babylon
  • Emerson, Lake & Palmer – Karn Evil 9
  • Guns ‘n Roses – Welcome to the Jungle
  • The Chemical Brothers – Hey Boy Hey Girl
  • Basement Jaxx – Where’s Your Head At?
  • Missy Elliott – Lose Control (which samples Cybotron – Clear)
  • LFO – LFO
  • Meat Beat Manifesto – Radio Babylon (which samples Boney M – Rivers of Babylon)
  • Joey Beltram – Energy Flash
  • The Future Sound of London – We Have Explosive

-CLT

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Unpublished Correspondence V2

May 6, 2011

Sneak past my spam filter, will you? Brace yourself for an onslaught of wordiness which contains none of that important personal information you’re barely trying to capture.

Your email just W o n £ 850,000 UK Pounds in our on-going 11th Anniversary PROMO!!!

YOUR DETAILS: L u c k y # : 12-12-23-35-40-41(12),
T i c k e t # : 00869575733664,
C G P N : 7-22-71-00-66-12.

For more information Contact: Email: mrgrahambenfield_101@hotmail.com
Agent: MR GRAHAMS BENFIELD. On behalf of staffs felicitate with you!!
MRS. ANGELO COLLETTA (Promo Announcer)

————————————————————————

NOTE: Do not reply this mail, send your correspondnence to Mr Grahams as instructed.

….

Dear Mr. Grahams Benfield –

Thanks for alerting me to this promotion. I’m not too sure what the prize is but I would love to have your staffs felicitate this. Unless your UK pounds are significantly different than our American pounds, I’m going to need a lot of help hauling these 850,000 pounds to my apartment. I may also need to obtain a storage unit as I’m not sure if 850,000 pounds of anything would all fit in my apartment.

Of course, math never was my strongest subject. I suppose after conversion this prize would weigh something more manageable, but I still think I’d better take advantage of your staffs.

Not that this is important or anything, but when did you “blokes” (I hope I’m using that correctly) ditch the metric system? I didn’t read anything about it online, but I spend most of my time cruising baseball stat sites or leaving mocking comments on various Gawker blogs. All I have to say is: it’s about time. We both speak English, so why shouldn’t we be able to do a 1-1 weight conversion? It’s bad enough that I have to Google up a calculator every time I buy an import album on eBay.

Which raises another question: are you or are you not using the Euro? If not, “bully” for you! (Again, I hope I’m saying that right.) No good can come of a single currency. Prominent conspiracy theorists  have indicated that it could very well bring about the Apocalypse, and I don’t know about you but I still got some livin’ to do! Some livin’ with my new collection of … things… that weigh a lot!

Looking forward to hearing from you. Please let me know how many staffs will be available to felicitate this move. Please keep the number of women and children to a minimum. This sounds like a lot of lifting and I can’t be slowed down by people unable to keep up with me and my roommates and your guys.

If you must send women/children, please make sure that they can lift a minimum of 20 pounds, in accordance with my handwritten EOE compliance form. Please also have several copies of your most bulletproof waiver forms on hand for those who think they might become repeatedly injured during this move.

Sincerely,
CLT