Bagel - My Thoughts

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

After a restless night, and then a horrible hangover from trying to make myself look attractive enough to myself to think I could land the sloppiest girl at the bar, I stumbled to work, and first off decided I needed to have a Bagel - a food that is the exact opposite of a hangover but probably a mainstay of "Sloppy" at the bar.

Bagel is of course, the oldest of the Jewish delicacies, created by Moses himself, writer/director of The Ten Commandments. Having never seen any of Moses' work, and basing my anticipation on commentary from many friends that all sounded basically like, "His shit is so depressing it will make you rethink whether or not you want to inhabit planet earth anymore," I waited uncomfortably for the toaster to begin. Perhaps I'm a sissy, perhaps I'm too sensitive, but I have avoided movies like The Ten Commandments, Prince of Egypt, Annie Hall etc. because the ugliness of life presents itself on a daily basis and I don't really need it reaffirmed over a bag of popcorn.

That said. I am glad I ate a Bagel.

In what I am told is typical Moses fashion, the Bagel follows the intersecting of cinnamon and raisins from around it's globe-like center. The mindless shooting out of this center is the food's catalyst, but its struggle to satiate is just one of many purposes explored by the food. Moses' piercing index finger pokes out its doughy center, and instead takes on heavy subjects from the timely: carbohyrdrates, nationalism, sesame seeds to the dark and taboo: butter, cream cheese, incest.

After swallowing the food I grappled with what I thought the food was "about." What the baking ultimately was trying to prove. Did it have an underlying thesis? A theme? After further thought, I'm not sure that it matters.

Last year's "Best Breakfast" Hash, using a similar starch-based construction painted a clear picture of dysfunctional race relations in Los Angeles. Here the theme was obvious: breakfast foods are all fucked up and there's nothing we can do about it. Period. My problem with Hash, however, was that it presented all of these problems, the problem of breakfast, but also through metaphor, race relations in America and offered little or no solution to these problems. The short order cooks of the food have responded to similar complaints stating that this was their intention. To me, this is where Hash fell short.

With Bagel, Moses certainly paints our world with a dark brush, but the moments when the food really pulls you in are when he pokes holes in his center and allows some poppy seeds to shine through. It's not sappy, there's no "happy ending." There is only the thought that while the world may be a dark place - one in which our breakfast is often overshadowed by superficial divides like syrup, Tony the Tiger, socio-economic class, Pop Tart vs. Strudal violence - human beings can offer one another hope. That the smallest human gesture, a touch, a kiss, a hug, a helping hand, a look of understanding, an act of kindness, a "Leggo my Eggo" can change our worlds. That eating one with dignity can pull us from darkness.

I'm still not convinced that this was "THE" theme. Moses doesn't go out of his way to prove it. I suspect that different people will take different things away from this food. Perhaps I just didn't want to leave having my thoughts about the world reaffirmed over a raisin bran, but that was the way I ate it. The point is, I ate it, and so should you.

Babel - My Thoughts

Sunday, October 29, 2006

After a restful night, and then a lovely afternoon at the beach with my girlfriend, I headed over to the Century City movie theatre to take a look at Babel - a movie that is the exact opposite of a restful night and a lovely afternoon at the beach with a beautiful girl.

Babel is the newest opus from Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, director of Amores Perros and 21 Grams. Having never seen any of Inaritu's work, and basing my anticipation on commentary from many friends that all sounded basically like, "His shit is so depressing it will make you rethink whether or not you want to inhabit planet earth anymore," I waited uncomfortably for the film to begin. Perhaps I'm a sissy, perhaps I'm too sensitive, but I have avoided movies like 21 Grams, Amores Perros, Requiem for a Dream etc. because the ugliness of life presents itself on a daily basis and I don't really need it reaffirmed over a bag of popcorn.

That said. I am glad I went to see Babel.

In what I am told is typical Inarritu fashion, Babel follows the intersecting lives of a number of characters stretched all across the globe. The mindless shooting of an American woman in Morocco is the film's catalyst, but her struggle to survive is just one of many life altering circumstances explored in the film. Inarritu's piercing camera takes on heavy subjects from the timely: immigration, nationalism, globalization to the dark and taboo: crib death, incest, suicide.

After leaving the film I grappled with what I thought the film was "about." What the story ultimately was trying to prove. Did it have an underlying thesis? A theme? After further thought, I'm not sure that it matters.

Last year's "Best Picture" Crash, using a similar narrative construction painted a clear picture of dysfunctional race relations in Los Angeles. Here the theme was obvious: race relations are all fucked up and there's nothing we can do about it. Period. My problem with Crash, however, was that it presented all of these problems, the problem of race relations in America and offered little or no solution to these problems. The screenwriters of the film have responded to similar complaints stating that this was their intention. To me, this is where Crash fell short.

With Babel, Inarritu certainly paints our world with a dark brush, but the moments when the film really pulls you in are when he pokes holes in his canvas and allows some light to shine through. It's not sappy, there's no "happy ending." There is only the thought that while the world may be a dark place - one in which our humanity is often overshadowed by superficial divides like language, race, socio-economic class, national origin - human beings can offer one another hope. That the smallest human gesture, a touch, a kiss, a hug, a helping hand, a look of understanding, an act of kindness, can change our worlds. That treating one another with dignity can pull us from darkness.

I'm still not convinced that this was "THE" theme. Inarittu doesn't go out of his way to prove it. I suspect that different people will take different things away from this film. Perhaps I just didn't want to leave having my thoughts about the world reaffirmed over a bag of popcorn, but that was the way I saw it. The point is, I saw it, and so should you.

Rush Limbaugh is a Fucking Idiot

Friday, October 27, 2006

I don't care to be eloquent with this post. I'm too mad. I just want to say that Rush Limbaugh is a fucking idiot.

Some of you may have read or heard his recent ramblings about how Michael J. Fox was "acting" like his Parkinson's condition was worse than it was in a political commercial that he did for a Missouri Senator.

Guess what? When you're a fat, pill-poping fascist, you shouldn't be allowed to comment on what anyone else on earth is doing.

When I see the kind of hateful shit this idiot puts out over the airwaves I wonder if he got his job because the Home Town Buffet was located too close to a radio studio, and in a Xanax induced fury he stumbled into said radio station, sat down at a news desk, and when he couldn't find the prime rib he started talking to himself.

I have seen Parkinson's Disease up close. It's not something you need to "act like" you have the symptoms of. The debilitating disease does that on its own.

Rush Limbaugh is a fucking idiot. Go pop some oxycontin and eat a fucking burrito dumb dumb. That's where I think you're most useful.

Borat at the Airport

Monday, October 23, 2006

Jagsemesh. My name-a-Celebrity Lightning Rod. In my travelings from the Las Vegas I see many men. Some with a chocolate face, some with a vanilla, some who look like they have bomb in their briefcase.

On a Saturday when my metal flying tube land at Los Angeles International Port of Terror, I see a famous celebratory in terrorport terminal. His name a Sacsha Baron Cohen.

He was a singing tune in a foreign tongue and making whistlings. I follow him to a gifting shop where he buy a copy of New York Yankee Times. He look a funny in person. I like a see celebratorys.

I find more.

Chenkuy.

New Podcast Available

Friday, October 13, 2006

New podcast available. Listen to it. It's fucking awesome. We tell you how to make your own escape rickshaw, just like the one used by Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.

SEE BELOW>>>>>>>

At Worst, The Best Headline Ever

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

This has to be at worst, the best headline ever -

Courtesy of IMDB:

PITT & JOLIE IN RICKSHAW DRAMA



That's it.

Airplane Fluid

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

As I sit here in the airport terminal, bagel and orange juice in hand. I can't help but ponder, "How safe can we really be if they sell one of the main ingredients to napalm at the breakfast cafe for $2.25?"

Just some..."food"... for thought.

Strangely enough, the terror threat level was raised to Orange juice, just a few moments after I had these thoughts.

For up to the minute maid coverage of this and other terror related news, stay right here at twojacksinthehole... The No Pun Zone.

I Have The Best Friends in the World!

Tuesday, October 03, 2006


I seriously have the best friends in the world.

Given the above, I'm sure that everyone reading this already knew that my birthday is on Friday.

Well, wouldn't you know that my best friend from home, Nick Mazzone, went ahead and got me my present a few days early, just so it would be a surprise.

The present came in the form of a phone call. I'll transcribe it below:

Joe: This is Joe.

??: Is this Joe?

Joe: Yes. This is Joe.

??: Joe, this is David Keith, and I'm just calling to wish you a Happy Birthday.

Joe: Oh my God, seriously? David Keith? How did you get my number??

David Keith: Well, your friend, Nick Merzone, is a good friend of mine, and he thought you would enjoy it if I gave you a call for your birthday.

Joe: Mazzone! Nick Mazzone! Yeah! He's my best friend. You're friends with him?

David Keith: It says Merzone here, but yes, we go way back.

Joe: I can't believe he never told me that he was old friends with the star of such awesome films as Behind Enemy Lines and Ernest Goes to School!

David Keith: Well, I'm glad you're a fan of my work. Most people are just disappointed that I'm not the black guy from Men at Work.

Joe: Keith David? How could anyone make that mistake. You guys are like night and day! No pun intended! --laughter--

David Keith: --laughter--

Joe: And Parkman! Who could forget Parkman?!

David Keith: Yeah, yeah. Major League II. That was fun.

Joe: This is going to sound stupid, but...

David Keith: No, no! What is it? Go ahead...

Joe: Would you do a scene with me from Major League II?

David Keith: Sure--

Joe: It's my eliminator. I've got another pitch. You get a piece of it, I'll let you name it. --Joe mimics the sound of a pitch being thrown and a homerun being hit--

David Keith: I'd, uh, call it the masturbator.

Joe: YES! That is AWESOME!

David Keith: I did a lot of research for that role. Hey, you know though, I've gotta get going, but you seem like a really cool guy so I wanted to ask you something.

Joe: Of course. Anything!

David Keith: I have a telecom business on the side, and I was wondering if you would want to work for me. No. More like - be partners with me.

Joe: What is it?

David Keith: Well, you see, the big phone companies all spend millions of dollars per day in advertising. With Telcom Direct, we pass that money onto our "reps" who go out and sell the product for us. You make $20 for every person you sign up, and for every one they sign up, you make $15 and so on and so on. It's only $1,800 to have your business cards made up, so if you just want to give me your credit card number over the phone...

Joe: Um, yeah, well I'll have to get back to you about that.

David Keith: The cards take a while to come in, so let me just get the order going now.

Joe: I think I hear my call waiting clicking in...hang on.

--click over--

Joe: This is Joe.

??: Joe, this is David Keith.

Joe: What the frig?

David Keith: Did you know that when they said my acting for "In Her Line of Fire" also known as "Air Force Too" was "phoned in" and the ensuing eviction notice that followed i's when I got the idea to join Telcom Direct? It was referred to me by John DeLancie, who played "Q" on "Star Trek the Next Generation." He made $20 when I signed up. And now you can make $20 whenev--

--END OF CALL--

So anyways, I just wanted to say thanks to Nick for remembering my birthday. It was probably the best present I've ever gotten.

If you want to do the same for one of your friends, check out:

Hollywood is Calling - David Keith



Beautiful Music

Monday, October 02, 2006

Here's what happens when a semi-creative person, in the honeymoon phase of their relationship (not that it's over for me), gets ahold of a Xanax, a pen, and a barfbag as they are embarking on a cross-country flight with their significant other.

In the words of my boy Vincent - a recent double casualty of the at worst most brilliant show on television - Project Runway, "I've been making sweet music all my life, and I'll continue to make sweet music."

Without further rambling, my poetry:

"Poem on a Barf Bag" By Scott Huff

My girl is nothing like a barf bag.
Puking inside of her is not okay.
She is not made of paper,
and she is not kept in a fabric pocket underneath a pullout tray table.

My girl is different from a barf bag,
she is not white.
She is a little Latino/Asian fireball,
ready to hook up a taco, or throw a Chinese star.

My girl is nothing like a barf bag.
She is my girl.
And that.
Is why she is mine!
Love me, Love me, Love me, Sex machine.


"Untitled" a Love Sonnet by the one and only Scott B. Huff

The moon's gentle lumination
Touching the surface of the Pacific
Can't compare to the light
In your eyes

Fasten your seatbelt,
by placing the buckle into
the metal thing. No shit.
I hope you're buckled up

The perfect botany of the orchid
Is nothing,
Compared to your hot ass, and boobs,
I mean it!

You are like no one else.
A perfect specimen,
Of sweet devotional love.
Of love. Did I mention love.
I love you.
Never inflate the vest inside the aircraft.