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.

Friday, September 24, 2004


The queue inside the Burbank branch of Fry's Electronics last Tuesday morning went from the bank of cashiers, all the way around the appliance area from the refrigrators to the Maytag Whirlpool washers and dryers, up and around the lastest in laptop and PCs showcases and wound up ending near the 50's sci-fi alien B-movie flying saucer decorated cafe located all the wayyyyyy in the right hand rear of the store. Never mind that there were at least 42 cashiers on hand. Never mind that the store and its parking lot combined is practically the same size and width of Staples Center or any small stadium for the matter. It was an hour long wait to buy the new Star Wars trilogy on DVD. It didn't matter what you were buying - if it being a entire home theater or a small little plastic packaged transistor component for some electronic doo dad that junior is working on for the annual school science fair - there was no avoiding the...line. Eight out of every ten people were on that line from 10 AM to 11 AM with the holy grail of dvds tucked ever so gallantly under their armpit. Everyone who passed me with a shopping cart or just to come to grab a two liter bottle of carbonated stomach acid at least muttered these exact same words under his or her's breath: 'you gotta be fuckin' kidding me'

No mac, you're just going to have to endure like the rest of us eager tikes waiting to take this package home and finally dissect the digitally remastered answer to the universal question: Who really shot his laser cannon first at the Catina Bar scene: Geeko or Han Solo? Mac, you're just going to have to endure the endless obnoxious barrage of geek speak like the rest of us from the reminiscing mouths of past laserdisc or Beta owners about the virtues or disparagements of the unconquerable Lucasfilms. Oh Yes, Mister or Mrs non-purveyors of popular culture, you will suffer the acrid tonguelashings of a incomprehensible banter for second upon tumultous echoing second in a lucid chattering world of overweight and acne scarred skin blabbermouths who know not the meaning of the words - 'hidden feature spoiler warning '. And you endure harshly for your utter lack of understanding that this is the release dates of all release dates in multimedia history. So take that king size Snicker bar, that cruddy Cosmopolitian Magazine with that skank Katie Homes on the cover, take that cruddy 9 hour blank VHS tape to record all your time consuming worthless contrived daytime soap operas, and your shitty George Forman grilled cheese sandwich maker and SHUT THE FUCK UP AND WAIT IN LINE LIKE THE REST OF US, YOU GODAMN WHINER! For the sole and simple reason: another legal holiday has been official declared for Star Wars fans and there's not a godamn thing you can do about it.

And that's where I am today- brown nosed deep in the dvd quaqmire of no return. I have been totally assimilated to do my part in the digital revolution to the point where I now shrug off all human contact and sacrifice my entire weekends, whereas I could be out hitting the clubs, checking out live gigs and shoveling twenty dollar bills up some stripper's gine gine. Instead, me and my forty pound overweighted ass is now content to settle in a cheesy captain folding chair and plug up my brain cells with expanded editions of certain genre movies, anime, or revisiting long lost memories of certain shows you'd watch when you were ten or eleven but weren't quite old enough to grasp the comprehension of the story the show was telling.

A couple of years back, I bought a DVD player to watch merely on the weekends - and get back in the game of renting movies again. I was on the verge of cleaning up some credit - (or in some cases, I never had any at all until Capitol One came around. Let's face it: most people who were allowed credit cards were people with rich backgrounds, had a good paying job, or were attending college. I'd like to think that being employed full time had something to do with it also) and better I knew it, Blockbuster Video was welcoming me with open arms and I started renting movies on disc because they weren't becoming too readily assessible on VHS anymore, - but you probably been through the same shit I'm talking about. Then as soon as prices begin to bottom out, I realized I was beginning to spend more money than I was on comic books, and it became even more problematic when I started spending so much time at the studio's employee store and finding that I could get entire season sets of HBO shows for at least half off of suggested retail. And lo, they started to come in by the shitload- Sopranos, Six Feet Under, Curb Your Enthusiam, Sex in the City, the Wire, etc. All for a mere half off of what they sell at Best Buy's or Tower Records. Shows that I've haven't been privileged to see after living in a cable deprived house for eight years.

And now it hasn't been long that I can't go on without a day without putting in a disc in the player. It just isn't the movie itself- the addiction lies in finding the hidden eggs that the studio just neglect to tell you about (easter eggs is the technical term for throwing in bonus footages such as screen tests, bloopers, outtakes, or three making of featurettes and not listing them on the packaging. You have to find them ourselves by fucking around with the remote.) and soaking in the picture clarity and...

Yeah, I've become a DVDoholic. I've given up one substance abuse (comic books) over another. I am a self professed maligner of programming strategy.

Next week- we'll take a look inside the Coatney Channel.




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