Monday, July 30, 2012

50 Shades of Potato Salad

One would think popular culture might advance beyond its genitalia.  Alas…
What’s behind the success?  Sex still sells; shazam and golly-gee-whiz Wally!  Whodothunkit , and all that.
Trip down memory lane; once upon a not too long ago, towns had special little stores with painted over windows where men parked blocks away and then walked.  Grandpa and grandma called them dirty books.  Ah, but a few years and now it’s the rage.  Marketing is an amazing thing.  Not only does it advertise, but it creates desire.  Now that’s seduction.
If memory serves, I’m trying to remember something here… Oh yeah, that fifty-percent divorce rate and half, yep half, of all children born out of marriage.  Wait till these kids raise their kids.  Won’t that be fun?  But the boomers and the x’ers and the y’ers never were ones to gargle much with self-restraint.
Then there was the London opening.  No Shakespeare, no Wilberforce, no good old Churchill.  But a healthy dose of vapid reflection about the wonders of the cell phone and music and young people dancing and having fun, with just a flash of Winehouse, the throwaway starlet who ain’t going to rehab, no no no.  But the queen was there.  Yes, fun I tell you.  That’s the addition and the display of London culture to the earth.  Can you imagine watching all that in some sub-equatorial group-hut on the village television?
There was something else not too long ago – Holmes at the theater and Warner Bros. descrying the violence, all the way to the bank.  That particular franchise started in 1939.  Get yourself some early ones, see if you recognize anything but the utility belt.
I don't know boys & girls.  Some days I just don't  know.  Maybe 50 is too many.  Maybe we were better off with plain old black and white.

No comments:

Post a Comment