Shampoo is Better

Ruminations:

-Billy Madison is the defining film of my generation. Here's why: it is the only film that both perfectly encapsulates the joys, pitfalls and ennui of the vastly over-privileged children of the 80s and 90s and belongs solely to Generation Y. The other closest contender is probably The Big Lebowski; it's certainly a better film, and it, too, paints a lovingly absurd portrait of the isolated, leisurely United States of Americana. But my dad loves Walter, my mom loves the Dude and your little sister has probably said "shut the fuck up, Donny". In other words, this movie is transcendent and has fully, inexorably entered the 21st century pop lexicon. It doesn't belong to us anymore (it did, once)--it belongs to everyone.

Billy Madison, on the other hand, will always be ours (even if no milk will ever be our milk). That film, with its endless string of non-sequitors, infuriated critics, baffled my parents and is, I suspect, just plain boring to the youngsters of today. And though I doubt Adam Sandler and his overgrown adolescent cohorts had any idea, it is fit for a time capsule. Over a decade after it's release, it's message is clear: being rich and American is fun and almost entirely without responsibility. Any threats on the horizon are vague and can be conquered with a healthy dose of absurdity and luck. Billy is our protagonist and we are asked to root for him not because he is virtuous or possesses anything other than charm, simply because he is preordained as the good guy. Nothing is more American than that. He lives in a wealthy, protected bubble and spends his days wallowing in privilege and exploring the nuance of baby talk and pornography. Billy Madison is the hood ornament at the apex of the Industrial Revolution, a mascot for a country that traded substance for fast-food chains and sacrificed erudition at the alter of money.

So, you see, the puppy was like industry in that they were both lost in the woods and nobody--especially the little boy ("society")--knew where to find them. Except that the puppy was a dog, and the industry... that, my friends, was a revolution.

And while comedy has historically been a respite from the horrors and realities of existence (some evolutionary biologists hypothesize that we developed our humorous tendencies to deal with the added burdens of an over-developed frontal lobe), Billy's world of the impossibly fortuitous 90's is pretty damn comfortable. With nothing to seek shelter from or be consoled about, the human comedic brain apparently turns to pickle races and binge drinking. Hilarious, hilarious absurdity. Oh Billy, Billy boy... when will you find whatever it is you're looking for?




Updates:

-The inaugural War on Drugs tour was an adventure (and a success, by my count). Here are some lessons learned over the two weeks or so we spent on the road:

1. A Volvo station wagon with 240,000 miles on it is not a good vehicle to tour in.
   
2. It is illegal to drive a Volvo station wagon in Cleveland, OH without a muffler.
3. If the Celtics can win on the road, so can the War on Drugs.
4. A 404 Sampler is capable of destroying a high end monitor system.
5. It's not a good idea to tell a band that drove all the way to Detroit for a show that they will receive "no hospitality, no drink tickets and no special treatment whatsoever".
6. Hawkwind is some trippy, trippy space rock.
   
7. When the catalytic converter finally falls off of a Volvo with 240,000 miles on it, the resultant fumes can cause severe dizziness, carbon monoxide poisoning, and possibly even death.
   
8. NEVER eat an old tuna sandwich from a poorly lit truck stop in Akron. Unless you like food poisoning.
   
9. Chicagoans are a friendly, hospitable bunch. So are Detroitians, Clevelanders, Bean-towners, and New Yorkers. Thanks to everyone who put us up.