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“Do I have to spell it out?
c-h-e-e-s-e-a-n-d-o-n-i-o-n-s
oh, no,….”


Cheese And Onions
The Rutles

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I love going out to eat these days. New food, new atmosphere,….new tupperware.

Have you noticed that they actually give you what’s basically tupperware to take stuff home in? It’s great. The containers last forever.

I got some cuban stew tonight and they gave me tupperware to take it home in. It’s like a whole new set of take-about dishes. Take them for lunch at work,…take them and freeze stuff in them. It’s tupperware.

The food service industry just did what the scientists in the 60’s couldn’t. Make disposable tupperware,…and it’s not even disposable because it lasts forever. Who couldn’t love that? It’s even got the button that you press down in the middle of the lid so as to keep the air out.

This is the new take-home container! How fortunate we are to live in this gilded age!

We got a White House that has committed more crimes than the Nixon Administration,…I will give you that,…but we also have free tupperware! I would say the one cancels out the other.

Yes!

Sleek. Trim. Designer.

Free tupperware. Just don’t go to the restaurant hungry or you won’t get it because your ate all you dinner…..

Anyway,…

“And each one there,
Has one thing shared.
They have sweated beneath the same sun,
Looked up in wonder at the same moon,
And wept when it was all done,
For bein’ done too soon,
For bein’ done too soon,
For bein’ done,….”


Neil Diamonds
Done Too Soon

I will continue the Sandy Hook commentary once I correct all the mistakes in the grammar in that previous post. Let it be known that I, most assuredly, do not set about to make mistakes in written grammar,….but sometimes the inevitable happens. I do.

The sentences in it do not run complete. Yet, in spite of that, I did get one “like” as well as one follower. How much this has to do with the dreadful grammar, I do not know. All I know is that I wasn’t clear and as succinct as I wanted to be….and woe to me because of it.

With that said, (isn’t that the most over-used term in existence today? “With that said”. Geez. I hate that term. It’s like farting and then saying, “with that said”. What is said becomes meaningless, doesn’t it? I notice liberals use that quite a bit. “With that said”. No. There is no, “with that said” here. I just can’t believe I actually said, “with that said.”)

I may as well just go to bed now. I actually said, “with that said” on my own damn blog! There is no more point to the day anymore, man. I said, “with that said”. Unbelievable. I should just give it up and delete the damn blog if I’m gonna utter hipster-doofus lingo here. “With that said” is a double negative, man! It doesn’t make sense! When you say that, you are essentially saying, “Hey! Look over here!….Psych!”

Geez.

(Alright. Calm down, Scabies. Fix the Sandy Hook post tomorrow, finish this post tonight. Focus.)

Ok. Here’s the deal.

ummm,…..

yeah.

I forgot what I was gonna say.

(wait a minute….)

I will fix the damn post tomorrow so it’s a little clearer. I just ain’t got time to tonight. Then I will start working on the second installment.

With that said, does that sound like a plan?

(D’oh!!!)

Anyway,…

“Say, I know a little,
I know a little about it,
I know a little,
I know a little ’bout it,
I know a little ’bout love,
And baby I can guess the rest,….”

Lynyrd Skynyrd
I Know A Little

I’m sorry. I just think that stupid “Happy” song is the worst thing to come down the pike since “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” It has got to be the worst song of the year….if ever.

They asked college students about it and they were able to name the artist. They then asked them to talk about Benghazi and their only response was,

“Wasn’t he that guy that,…ummm,…did something?”

Ben Ghazi.

Played by Mike Myers in “Austin Powers 14″

Geez.

We are lost.

Anyway,…..

“Do you like green eggs and ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like green eggs and ham!
Would you like them here or there?
I would not like them here or there.
I would not like them anywhere.
I do so like green eggs and ham!
Thank you! Thank you,
Sam-I-am!….”


Dr. Seuss
Green Eggs And Ham

I went to the public library today. I know that this is earth shattering news to some of you. Me going to the library and all. I was pretty stunned myself actually. The reason why is simply this: They had amnesty this week. I am not altogether sure if it had something to do as a precursor to Obama’s impending thing on illegals or if it was simply to get asses in the seats, as it were.

It was painless enough. I walked in and told them I was a wanted man and that I was there to turn myself in. They asked for my address as I stood holding out my hands so they could cuff me and process me. I just dropped that dime on myself. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time type thingy. They looked at me like I was an idiot,….which, of course, I am.

The Librarian pulled up my rap sheet and read the charges: $11.00 in fines. I began to fidget. I began to sweat. $11.00 is a heavy rap, man. That’s almost a felony in library speak. (I just wished I had counsel at that point.)

She cheerfully told me that I was the lightest pardon of the day. She had processed over $2,000 in fines in the previous four hours. I breathed a sigh of relief. She wiped my bill clean. I was a free man.

I told her that I lost my library card about three years ago and would really like one back. She was more than happy to issue me a new one. She even pulled out a bunch of templates that I could choose from. There was one that looked like a Starbucks card. It had emblazoned on it: “Borrow, Return, Repeat”.

I told her I would take that one because it had commands on it instead of fallow suggestions. I need to be reminded,….because I’m a fugitive from justice…..”right now!”

(Gil Garcetti. L.A. District attorney during the OJ flight from justice.)

I paid my meager dollar for the new card and went in search of items that I could brazenly “just take”. I felt like I was wilding. I was on the hunt,…and woe to anyone who was in my way whilst I did it.

I found a CD entitled, “Neil Diamond’s Greatest Hits” and a DVD entitled, “The Smothers Brothers: Season Three”! I can’t believe all those idiots who were just sittin’ there on the “free” internet just missed these gems! What a bunch of three-toed sloths.

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I grabbed my stash and headed for the self checkout! I checked my items out, got a printed receipt and just walked out the door,….un-molested. Not a word was spoken as I brazenly just walked out. Babies.

The library is like Neville Chamberlain. If you hold their head in the toilet long enough, they will cave.

Appeasement, my ass.

I think the next course of action is to order up a bunch of “Project: Runway” and just not pick it up when it comes in…..

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Anyway,…..

“Hot town, summer in the city…”

Lovin’ Spoonful
Summer In The City


“Thunder and Lightning,
I tell you it’s frightening.
It’s thunder and lightning,….


Thunder and Lightning
Chi Coltrane


“The snow is really piling up outside,
I wish you wouldn’t make me leave here….”


Meatloaf
Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad

This summer has been rather a gem in my book. Until today.

I was dreading this day all summer. What happened was that it actually broke 90 degrees today. The highest we got all summer was a warm 88. Not today. It climbed that two degrees to 90.

(And I cut my grass today of all things! It was all dry and crunching under my feet as I stepped. Dust blowing out of the side of the bag and crap…..)

People look at me like I’m crazy when I say I hate the heat. They usually ask me when it’s something like 25 degrees outside. Usually, it’s in the form of a question like, “Hey, don’tcha wish summer was here? I love the heat. I’m outside all day in it when it gets really hot.”

My answer always remains the same. “I hate the heat.” I bet these same people that ask me that have a dab of cockroach DNA in them,…even if it’s a little bit of it.

And this was no normal 90 degree day today either. It had it’s exclamation punctuation at precisely at 10:55 pm tonight, just as I was about to leave work. So much so that I couldn’t leave work when I wanted to at precisely at 11:00pm. What happened at 10:55 was simply this.

It rained.

I love a good rain. Everyone loves a good rain. After a 90 degree day, rain was more than welcome.This, however, was no normal rain. This was a freak of nature rain. This was a mutant rain, the likes I’ve never seen before. It was accompanied by frequent thunder and lightning to boot.

This was the type of rain that came down really hard and in huge drops. That type of rain. The type of rain where you have your wipers on full-blast and still can’t see out the windows. That type of rain, man (raaaiiin, maaaan. Rain man! Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise!) The Marion Crane driving through the desert to the Bates Motel type of rain. That type of rain.

Sorry, I digress.

This was the type of rain that my old man, in the summer of 1977, would sit in a lawn chair in a dark garage, smoke a cigarette and just watch the rain come down with a small transistor radio playing and Blatz next to him. It was that type of rain.

This was also the type of rain that flooded my street in front of my house. People not privy to it would almost begin to panic at the sight of it. The street floods and water is coming up the drive at an alarming pace. There are no worries, however. That’s caused by the breakers on the sewers they installed a few years ago. The breakers are trap doors that close to let less water into the sewers so us residents don’t get flooded out in our basements. It gives the water somewhere else to go and that somewhere is the street…and decidedly not into our basements.

It looks ugly, but the world is as right as rain at that point.

But there was another exclamation punctuation to be had on this dark and windy night!

When the rain moved in, the heat moved out. Instantly. It dropped from 90 degrees to 68 degrees in a mere matter of multiple minutes. By that I mean 5 minutes. The cold front moved in with extreme prejudice.

So, now it was a cold rain…with wind, thunder and lightning.

It reached that scenario by the time I got home tonight. It is now silent. The windows are quiet…..time to let the dogs out.

It stopped.

Guess I’ll go to bed now….

Anyway,….

“Jenny, Jenny, who can I turn to?
You give me somethin’ I can hold on to,
I know you think I’m like the others before,
Who saw your name and number on the wall,…”


867-5309
Tommy Tutone

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A guy I know at work dropped his iphone into one of the Great Lakes. He came back to tell me that if I wanted to get a hold of him, there probably would be a fish answering.

We stood looking at each other for a minute or two.

I asked him how it was going. He knew the meaning of the question as soon as it landed.

“How is it without your coveted phone?”

He sheepishly said, “Alright.”….and then confessed it was actually pretty good. He brought a book he wanted to read tonight. He started on that. He said it was kinda cool not seeing the “pop-culture internet” that he would stare at by reflex on a nightly basis. He said that his time was freed up because of the lack of it.

I instantly became jealous. I need my phone because we got rid of the house phone and the cell phone was the only way I can communicate with my family now. I am a slave to my cell phone.

It wasn’t always like that. We had a land line for years and years. We had a four gig computer for years. We had cable TV for years….but we got rid of all of that. We have no TV at all now. We use our tablets for everything. We now communicate through our phones that are all on the same “plan”.

There’s a certain envy in seeing a person lose their right arm. For me, at least.

My phone means Angry Birds. My phone means Facebook. My phone means the weather. My phone means emails. My phone means music. My phone means Youtube. My phone means Highway Rider. My phone means texting. My phone means my calculator. My phone means my camera. (Video and still) My phone means the web. My phone means my pictures. My phone means the time. My phone means my flashlight. My phone means I am a slave to it.

I couldn’t help but think back to the time when there were no cell phones. It was great. One less bell to answer to. One more missed call from someone I probably didn’t want to hear from anyway. More time with the record player and tape deck….and books. And girls. And my guitar.

Our phones are like a narcotic that never, ever satisfies.

At least, mine is.

Anyway,….

“Breathe,…breathe in the air,
Don’t be afraid to care,
Leave, but don’t leave me,
Look around, choose your own ground…”

Pink Floyd
Breathe

We have now gotten ourselves into a sticky situation. I’m speaking, of course, about the current and dangerous trend that we find with the present state of candy production. It seems that the faceless denizens of corporate America have decided that another check-mate should be incorporated against the sheeple.

Hershey Candy has just perpetuated one of the biggest conspiracies in the history of candy production. The aerated chocolate bar.

They say they invented it, in spite of the fact that aerated chocolate already accounts for $500 million in confectionary sales worldwide. That doesn’t matter when a conspiracy is afoot. It’s what you see at the moment. You believe it because the TV tells you it’s true.

Let’s be blunt and to the point. They are pumping free air into your candy and you are paying for less chocolate that is replaced by a somewhat chocolate flavored air bubble.

It’s the same with White Castle hamburgers. They give you a tiny hamburger and then,…hold the phone here,…poke holes into that tiny hamburger and call them “flavor holes”. These flavor holes are filled with the same air that they fill the Aerated Hershey bar with. And that air is free, people. You are paying for something that is free. The annual profits on free air could possibly reach upwards to the equivalent of 12% of our national defense fund.

We see more air in our food all the time. So much so that we become blind to it after a while. A half-gallon of ice cream is no longer a half-gallon. It’s smaller than a half-gallon, isn’t it? But you still pay the half-gallon price. Why is that?

When a small potato chip bag gets opened, it’s filled 1/4 the way with potato chips,…the other 3/4 the way with,…you guessed it! Air. Free air. Free Air that you are paying for, once again, with you hard earned farthings.

The last time I checked, air was free. It’s all around me until, say, someone crop-dusts me in a Best-Buy or a low-level liquor store and/or elevator.

To put this rare commodity (known as air) into your tires, you have to pay for that. You pay 75 cents for all the free air that you can aerate your tires with in your three minute allotted time. The problem with tires, of course, is that you don’t eat them but they need to be aerated nonetheless. It’s air and it’s channeled,…but it’s still air. It’s still air and air is free. You are now paying the owner of the property for that free air!

(It says so right on the sign: Air-75cents.)

Branching out into other directions of our God-given free air, there is another commodity that is worth mentioning here. Water. Water is free. Water is all around us. We need water to live. Water is another commodity that we now pay for.

Let’s hearken back to the aerated candy bar for a second. They put it in your candy and you pay for it and get less. The same with water. They put frozen water in your drink and you pay a tariff for that. They tell you it’s free,…while automatically charging you for it.

How, you say? By the real estate in your glass. You get less Sangria when they fill it with free ice (frozen water) than if there was no frozen water in the equation. Sans ice, you get blotto’d. With ice, you get a slight buzz. If you got the ice, you just got ripped off because a good Sangria should really level you out. It’s their contention that it is desirable for your glass to sweat with coolness.

This is the propaganda that is put forth. Wine with lime and orange tastes exactly the same after two sips whether it be iced (frozen watered) or not.

People, we need to be proactive on this dumbing down situation that we currently find ourselves in. We need to stand up and take control of our free, God-given elements that we need to survive. The Reichstag burned in a day. The government leaders are doing this to us subtly. We now pay for air and water in consumables.

This tyranny will not stand!

Anyway…

“On a night when bad dreams become a screamer,
When they’re messin’ with the dreamer,
I can laugh it in the face,
Twist and shout my way out,
And wrap yourself around me,
‘Cos I ain’t the way you found me.
And I’ll never be the same,…”


You Make My Dreams
Hall And Oates

I have come to the sad realization that there are certain things that transpire, that are seemingly innocent, but bears witness to where we stand today. One of those things is almost innocuous to the naked eye. Let me explain….

I do believe, after a certain amount of cursory study, that most thirty-year-olds and below now have broken glass screens on their Iphones and Androids. Why this is, I may or may not know.

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The screens still operate. They still do the same thing that they always did….but they are indeed broken. They have the same spider vein cracks going through the glass. But they keep operating.

But why is it that people basically under thirty have this dynamic going on with their phones when people over thirty do not? I can only speculate. And this is my speculation.

There seems to be an attitude of that, “It’s not that important. If it breaks, it breaks. What are you gonna do?”

I wish I had that kinda attitude. It’s a fault of my own making. My ass would be in a pucker should I break the glass on my iphone. The problem with me is that, of course, I am so anal retentive.

I think, in all honestly, that I wouldn’t rest until it was fixed. They, however, carry on like the post apocalyptic generation that they are.

(The apocalypse took place when Obama refused to close the borders and when that dude in Syria lost his head….James Foley. That was the pre-apocalypse actually…the apocalypse occurred a few day later…. )

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Anyway….

“Come ride the little train that is rolling down the tracks,
to the junction….
Forget about your cares,
it is time to relax at the junction.


Petticoat Junction Theme Song
Paul Henney and Curt Massey

I think I’m getting too long winded. I rarely have anything of import to say. (By those first two lines, you can see this is a confessional so no hard feelings if you click the red X in the stage right corner of the screen. That’s OK. I’m cool with that.)

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I used to be funny. I used to be witty and urbane. The times we live in are tapping me out however. I got nothin’ to say anymore.

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That’s OK too. So be it.

I try and think of things to talk about but they remain ever elusive. Sometimes an idea will meld itself but will be lost on the midnight drive home.There’s just nothing left to say. What it comes down to is that I am on the losing side of history. I can, however, rip off a few more top ten’s and the world will be as right as rain for a while,…but that will simply be a panacea for having nothing else to say.

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To have a blog means that what you say has some valuable import, doesn’t it? It’s supposed to convey something. I just fear that my resources are exhausted. When I have nothing else to say, I simply sit down at my piano and play the piano part of Layla. It provides me no inspiration, of course, it just keeps my fingers nimble for just a few more weeks. That’s it. That’s all.

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I went and got blood drawn today for labs that my Dr. ordered. I fear this will be the end of me. Not because of some gloom and doom disease, but because my luck is having the anvil dropped on my head the second I walk out of the office. That’s what life is like right now. I hope it’s not that way for you.

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In any event, this is where I am. I may bounce back and I may be dead within a week. Who knows?

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Anyway,…

“Mason’s gone to Zanzibar,
Underneath his panama,
Out in the boundary.
Fading in the evening sun,
Hopelessly panglossian,
Out on the boundary.

There’s no surprise.
There’s peace in his eyes,
On the Boundary….”


The Duckworth Lewis Method
Mason On The Boundry

I decided to just throw caution to the wind today and just make some serious comfort food. I suppose I don’t need an excuse to do that. I do it enough,…but for some reason, I just decided to make some good old-fashioned Italian food.

There’s no real recipe for this and, even if there was, I’m not sure I have the fortitude to write it out. The pictures are self-explanatory. I will lay them out here in case anyone wants to go for broke and make it themselves. It’s really just sweet peppers and mild italian sausage….make a pot of spaghetti, crack a jar of sauce and it’s done. I made a gallery on top for close-ups of all the pics….

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So, I watched two Wes Anderson films today. The Life Aquatic and The Darjeeling Express. Can’t say I loved either one of them but they weren’t the worst movies I’d ever seen. Owen Wilson does a pretty good job in all of his flicks. I just think I didn’t find the characters really that likable or something. I just couldn’t connect with them or something. Maybe that’s a flaw in my own character or something.

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Both pictures in this double feature were actually pretty visually stunning. (That’s me trying to sound like a bonafide film critic. You use terms like “visually stunning.”) Anderson a big fan of the cutaway set, isn’t he? I really liked that aspect of it. The fact that there was that interplay was reminiscent of Hitchcock’s, “Rope”. To not cut the film but to cut the set instead. I liked that part of it. That really is thinking outside of the box, so to speak.

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The story lines of both films left a little to be desired however. I’m afraid that I’m either really pretty dumb or, worst yet, not very deep. Both films had Anjelica Houston in them and in both films she kinda creeped me out. I think that was because she was living with Jack Nicholson when Roman Polanski did his dirty deed with the 13 year-old back in ’74. That happened in Jack and Anjelica’s house ya know. Maybe that’s why she creeped me out. I don’t know. (I believe I read somewhere that she was even home when it happened. I could be wrong in that though.)

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Jack doesn’t creep me out when I see him. I can watch Jack all day and be amused. It’s just something about Anjelica Houston that bothers me. She’s kinda cold and aloof, ain’t she? I gotta wonder if that’s her true character.

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In any event, I just felt like the story lines petered out. Like there was some serious potential for both of them but they never quite got there. Out of the two, I would have to say I actually laughed more at The Life Aquatic,…but I really like the Darjeeling Limited better. (Can’t really say that I liked the part about the guy being in India when his wife was expecting however…that was kinda cold.)

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Bill Murray was in both flicks. What accounted for his presence in The Darjeeling Limited is anybody’s guess of course. There was no point in that character…unless he was supposed to be this symbol of what happens when you miss a train in life. Other than that, nothing accounted for his presence. Anybody could have played that part. They coulda got Ron Howard’s little brother Clint to play that. It was that strong of a role.

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As far as The Life Aquatic, there’s this rule of thumb that you don’t kill the hero until the end,…if he has to die. If you break that rule, you need to do it right. Hitchcock’s Psycho was a perfect example of it being done right. He kills off Marion Crane in the middle, but he seamlessly replaced her with Norman….who, in spite of being a psycho, became somewhat the helpless hero.

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I think the strongest features of both movies was the visuals. I think I could watch them both again for that alone. I also have to say that, were I to watch them again, I might actually do so with headphones on with The Duckworth Lewis Method playing. The depth of The Darjeeling Limited was a bit over my head. I mean, does anyone really have that much time to analyze their life?

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I know I don’t. I stopped doing that when I hit 24. I’ve found that too much introspection is not really that great for me. It might be for others, but not me, babe.

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He did make good use of the panning cameras in both flicks though. I’ll give him that. The fluid slide to the right and left (without dialogue) can really capture a scene. That’s when the actors really have to have their game on. It’s that timing thing. Since it was so fluid, I have to really wonder if it was either easy or difficult. You can’t really tell. Of course, it looks easy,…I guess that’s the point. I suppose that’s all that really matters when it comes to the final product.

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Anderson also uses colors to tell his stories. I thought that was pretty cool. Just inserting a predominate color into the whole movie and keeping it there. In the Darjeeling Limited, it was the color blue. In the Life Aquatic, it was yellow and red. (I think. Watching them back to back, I might be a bit confused about that.)

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You almost have to watch both of them back to back to get the feel for him as a film maker actually. Since these were probably the only two movies of his that I’ve ever watched, that might have to be a given. Maybe the continuity of his method might’ve escaped me if I watched both of them three months apart. I don’t really have that great of a memory anymore.

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Bill Murray always seems likable in anything that he does. I think it’s because of that true irish face that he has. Yet, he wasn’t that likable in The Life Aquatic. It might be because he will always be Carl Spackler to me. (I know, I know. 1980 was a long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away. Let the past go, Dan.)

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I did really like the scene where he took on all the pirates himself. That was actually a pretty good scene…and the fact that the pirates were all dressed like street thugs. That made me laugh.

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Ya know,…I really hate to say this at this point, but they were actually pretty good movies in hindsight. They wouldn’t rank up there with my favorites, but they were pretty good. When the guy popped Jeff Goldblum, I thought that was the end of him. The next scene has him running, covered in blood, but experiencing no apparent pain. That was pretty funny actually.

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The pepper spray scene in The Darjeeling Limited also made me chuckle quite a bit. And when the one brother chucked that belt into Owens’ face. It was funny, but it made me wince for a second. That was actually something me OR my brother would actually do….

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I just had a hard time with the guy being in India when his wife was about to deliver. That kinda stuff rattles around the back of my brain during the entire course of the movie. To me, it wasn’t the tension between the brothers and the mother. It was the fact that he’s off in India trying to “find himself” while she’s at home about to drop a kid. In that, I probably missed the take home of that flick. It would have done nothing to the storyline if they removed that one aspect of the story and kept everything else in tact.

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Anyway,…

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