Under the Table and Dreaming

Last night I had a strange dream. I hope that my loyal readers can interpret the symbols within said dream and tell me which psychiatric drug I will no doubt be prescribed. In the dream, my mother was giving me a lift home from some unknown place. We were both hungry, so we stopped at the McDonald's drivethru. At window #1, we placed our orders and paid the cashier. At window #2, a weary looking woman gave us our food and asked if we wanted ketchup. She looked familiar to both of us, and then we realized who she was - none other than Claire Huxtable herself, Phylicia Rashad. She had dyed her hair orange, and there were some lines under her eyes, but there was no mistaking it - this was Phylicia Rashad in the flesh, slinging out Quarter Pounders to the masses. My mom got all excited and told her how much she loved the Cosby Show. Phylicia thanked my mom and told her how tough things had gotten for her since her second show with Bill had been cancelled. She even pleaded with us to let her know if we knew of any acting gigs that might be coming up. My mom promised that she would. We all parted amicably, and I ate my fries.

What triggered this dream? Maybe it was because I caught the last ten minutes of a Cosby Show rerun yesterday afternoon. It was the one where Vanessa had snuck out with her boyfriend and Cliff used two apples to illustrate how close the two of them had gotten in the car. It wasn't a Claire-driven episode, so I don't know why it was Phylicia Rashad that got stuck in my subconscious. In real life, Ms. Rashad has gone on to a very successful career in theater. She even won a Tony a couple of years back. I'm guessing that the royalties from her 80s heyday are keeping her and her kids fat, happy and educated. Unless she was doing research for an upcoming role as a fast food worker with orange hair, there would be no sane reason for her to be working at McDonald's. Why did my twisted mind concoct such an image? What is it about middle-aged black women that has captured my imagination so much of late? Enlighten me, please, someone.

Are You Hungry?!

There are some things that I find oddly fascinating - things like maps, conservative Christian movie reviews, and those mini-roller coasters for marbles that you can buy at museum gift shops. They do not so much inspire affection or joy as do they stimulate regions of my brain that don’t normally get utilized. Once these things enter my line of sight, any and all neurons that attempt to distract me are soundly overpowered. One of the stimulants of this brainy arousal is a person – a very special person with true star quality that defies conventional standards of attractiveness. Of course, I am referring to the Honey Bunches of Oats Lady.

You know her. She’s everywhere (except Google Images). She is the middle-aged black woman wearing a shower cap and protective goggles whom Post Cereals has chosen to be the face, voice, and spirit of Honey Bunches of Oats in their national commercials. I doubt that many would call her beautiful. I must confess that I don’t find anything sexy about her. Indeed, there is something psychotic in her folksy cackle. But damn it all to Hell, when she pops out from behind a doorway excitedly screeching “Are You Hungry?????!!!!??” I cannot turn away. Yes, Honey Bunches of Oats Lady, I am hungry – hungry for knowledge!

Who is this woman? Why does she love Honey Bunches of Oats so much? What possesses her to promote said bunches to apparent strangers with such ferocity? Does she work at the Honey Bunches of Oats Factory? Is that why she wears that shower cap that seems like one small step up from Aunt Jemima’s old school doo rag? Are she and the Burger King lovers? Who is the actress who so fully embodies this character? Was there a large search put out seeking enthusiastic, heavyset, mildly deranged yet pleasant black ladies who don’t mind being portrayed in a somewhat subservient light? Is she Pepsi to the Pine Sol Lady’s Coke? Is it actually Halle Berry packing on the pounds and prosthetics to stretch herself as a performer?

Why do you haunt my dreams, Honey Bunches of Oats Lady? I mean, when you say that a spoonful of Honey Bunches of Oats is “like a mouthful o’ joy,” adding about four extras syllables to the word “joy,” I really believe you! No breakfast cereal has ever made me feel that way, but you make me suspect that this particular cereal might just do the trick. You, Honey Bunches of Oats Lady, could sell refrigerators to Eskimos. You are a superstar!

Royale With Cheese

Ah, Europe - the continent from which I got most of my genetic material! I’ve only been there once. At the age of 18, I went to Russia for a couple of weeks to sing a bunch of goofy songs with my classmates as part of a cultural exchange program. We sang in a bunch of schools and went on endless tours of magnificent palaces and cathedrals. We were also treated to the leftovers of the Soviet Bloc – gargantuan apartment complexes that were crumbling to the ground, shantytowns with thousands of people living in shacks the size of my bathroom, and food so old, terrible, and ridden with parasites that I prayed for death on my toilet. It was an amazing experience, but I returned home extremely thankful that I was American.

Europe puts out a lot of movies. A lot of them are awesome, and a lot of them are mind-bogglingly pretentious, bizarre, and annoying. Our Euro brethren seem more concerned with creating Art with a capital “A” than entertaining people, and I’m cool with that. Variety is the spice of life. Something I find interesting are the crowd-pleasers that are made by Europeans for Europeans. It’s in those movies where you begin to see the subtle differences between cultures, because everyone likes to laugh, but we laugh at different things.

For instance, there is a particular kind of British comedy that has flourished over the last decade. All the films within this genre contain variations on certain themes:

1) An economically depressed industrial village
2) Colorful villagers who need money fast
3) A quirky taboo being experimented with to bring prosperity back to the village
4) Pasty naked Brits who have no business being photographed in such a state

Classics of the genre include “The Full Monty,” “Calender Girls,” “Billy Elliot,” and “Waking Ned Devine.” Actually, Ned Devine is set in Ireland, but it was filmed in the UK by an English director so it still counts in my book. All of these movies were made on low budgets and were hugely profitable. Something about naked old people being silly drives the Brits into hysterics. I dunno. They’re kinda funny, but in an old people sort of way. There’s a new entry in this genre entitled “Kinky Boots,” which has more repressed English people raising their spirits, this time with slutty boots and a drag show or something. Your grandma will love it. I will not.

Not to be outdone, the Germans have come up with a crowd-pleasing sub-genre of their own: The Gay German Sports Comedy. I was not aware of this phenomenon until I perused the Apple movie trailer site and came across previews for two new movies. The first has possibly the funniest movie title I have ever seen: “Guys and Balls." Seriously, they named their movie “Guys and Balls!” It’s about a gay soccer team that defeats the odds and teaches us about humanity and all that crap. The American voice-over actor they chose to narrate the trailer had to have been laughing his ass off in the studio. The way he annunciates the title at the end is fucking hilarious. Gay German Sports Comedy #2 is called “Summer Storm” and seems to be about gay rowing teams that defeat the odds and teach us all about humanity and all that crap. Whatever. The Germans have a long way to go before they can teach me much about tolerance, but I guess that these movies are a step in the right direction for them as a people. Although, I am wondering, are there any Straight German Sports Comedies? Is that a contradiction in terms?

Anyway, I think it is fair to say that no American studios would have financed these movies. I also doubt that many Americans will go see them, myself included. When it comes to comedies, we’re currently more amused by the antics of Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson, Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell, and Steve Carell… and I like it that way. They all make me chuckle on their good days. I’m not a complete philistine, though. Check out the trailer for “Art School Confidential.” I can’t wait to see this movie. I miss you, NCSA!