The Purple Pinup Guru Platform

When purple things are pulsating on your mind, I'm the one whose clock you want to clean. Aiding is Sparky, the Astral Plane Zen Pup Dog from his mountain stronghold on the Northernmost Island of the Happy Ninja Island chain, this blog will also act as a journal to my wacky antics at an entertainment company and the progress of my self published comic book, The Deposit Man which only appears when I damn well feel like it. Real Soon Now.

Thursday, September 25, 2003


I have to get this out early due to some unexpected emergency that has come up tonight.

A few things has reined in my unbridled attention.

What the fuck is it lately with all these fast food joints constantly shoveling their rancid rat poison and have the mitigated gall to pander it to the unsuspecting guinea pigs of the free world? Burger King is increasingly becoming more of a major nuisance than ever before with the introduction of all these fancy-schmancy gourmet sandwiches.

Yes, the very same Burger King, where every menu item goes through your intestines faster than a Mexican divorce is now ready to introduce to the world their version of what they consider to be healthy food. If the Chicken Caesar Salad Sandwich wasn't bad enough, now comes the all new Santa Fe Fire Grilled Chicken Baguette loaded with only five grams of fat. I like it when they advertise the words 'loaded' and 'fat' in the same sentence- because it sort of presents itself as a paradox. Burger King, along with McDonald's are both notoriously renowned for fanning the flames of lawsuits that deal with the issue of obesity. People could take it the wrong way and may misconstrue that the sandwich may have 5 grams of fat included in the sandwich altogether. And what's up with the baguette? Is that supposed to improve the quality of their inferior ingredients? Baguette? Gimme a fuckin' break! This is the same shoddy marketing campaign that McDonalds employed with their heralded addition of Paul Newman salad dressing to all their salads in a plastic bubble that probably imports all of it's lettuce from Iraq, if the Iraqi children were all lucky to have the privilege to have tasted lettuce to begin with.

No matter how you toss it- McDonald's and Burger King share an alliance in one thing and one thing only: who can give you crippling diarrhea the quickest way possible? It's guaranteed- every time I walk out of their restuarant either in Encino or Westwood, it's a instant thousand yard dash to the nearest men's room facility- and I ain't stupid to use the one already provided for you in the restuarant - I go to a gas station 'cause it would be like stepping in a time capsule of every wino and needle junkie who has leased space before you. I one time had a bowel build up and tried it to beat someone to a men's room one time at a location in Venice Beach - but I happened to stumble upon Arnold Schwarzenegger trying to re-enact a scene from T3 in trying to jam Arianna Huffington's head down the toilet, so I had to save it until I got back to Sherman Oaks. Why do I even bother to eat there, if I hate it so much? Well, one reason is that when it comes to fast food franchises and their advertising- it's just the same as it was back in the fifties drive-ins - it's hypnotic and it's subliminal. Pretty pictures of food make people do foolish things. And you can't have lived life if you haven't tried everything once- despite the stomach pain that will linger in the afterglow.

I wish I could rant further on about this subject- I could literally go on for hours on how much I think McDonald's a detrimental abomination to society as subjecting the world public of the idealogy of slapping together processed American cheese in the middle of your pancakes as they horrendously demonstrate in their breakfast McGriddle sandwiches.

Since I have to rush home and do this errand for a friend- I'm probably not going to be able to check on the progress of the construction of the five Constantine sets. But interestingly enough, a bill from the drapery department stumbled in concerning two mattresses. Looks like there's going to be a exorcism hoedown somewhere in this movie. Of course, with Exorcist: the Prequel on indefinite hold and with Constantine being categorized in the horror genre - someone's gotta make up for the lost time.

I finally got ahold of that Hollywood Reporter article on 'codas'. As I may have mentioned before- codas are little tagged on endings that see in a movie after you've sat through seven to ten minutes of rolling credits. Two weeks ago, a pair of movies Cabin Fever and Once Upon A Time in Mexico both had little codas tacked on- sort of as a reward for wracking your brain over such jargon terminology such as foley Artist , gaffer, or Second Unit Director - In Mexico, there was Depp, bathed in a ring of fire, sauntering towards the audience with his guns raised and poised to fire. In Cabin Fever, there is a reference to an earlier scene within the movie of a Santa Claus white bearded shopkeeper played by Robert Harris who appears to have a racist agenda and spourts off off color epithets faster than a machine gun at a watermelon spitting contest, but is later revealed in the movie that he is more familiar to the black culture than one would expect when he greets a small group of African Americans and knows a lot of their lingo and appears to be down with their mannerisms. In the coda, there is the same shopkeeper sitting on a stool - trying to say 'Ah Word ' in a attempt to master the black street lingo.

The article lists past example of other movies that have had tried this experiment in the past, listing ' Ferris Bueller's Day Off ' and ' Young Sherlock Homes ' as prime example. But in recent months, it seems that today's mainstream movies are applying this technique more and more due to the popularity of DVD Easter eggs. You would be rewarded with the knowledge of the final fate of the monkey at the end of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. How did Bullseye make it through the end of Daredevil? What exactly did happen to Kenneth Branagh's Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's character in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets? All these questions are answered at the very, very end of the movie. And if you missed it, well, the studios are counting on you to shell out money to see it again, because they fucking fooled you as you left along with the rest of the popcorn and soft drink stuffed lemmings- either that or you have to wait to see the DVDs to find out.

The article doesn't mention anything on the Pixer blooper reels that are shown in such films as a Bug's Life and Toy Story or Dreamworks' Shrek. One of my favorite codas were the ones stuck on Howards Stern's Private Parts where Stuttering John was left all abandoned and realizes that he was cut out of the whole movie.

Bottom line: stay through the credits through some of these movies and you may very well be rewarded. I've been doing it ever since I was a little kid, and even then my family thought I was wacko. One time, my stepfather would say to me, 'what the fuck, Cary - you see anybody you know? and then I would use the tired old excuse; ' yeah, you freakin' ignoramus, some of the people who did the storyboards happen to draw for some of the comic books I read' . When all I really wanted to do was listen to the film score. I mean, does anybody really walk out of a Star Wars film without basking in the glory of a John Williams score - until it all fades to black?




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