Idiocracy Alert: People who Text in Movies






The wonderful picture above (just a teaser) can be found here. Well done, Oatmeal!

AMC Century City Multiplex, October 9, 2014, 11:30AM

My wife just went out of town for the weekend. Part of me was looking forward to being able to stay up late and watch horror movies. The other part of me freaked out a bit. After all, who is going to have breakfast with me and ask for back rubs? I love my alone time but I also love the SNGal. Oh well. I think that missing her but loving my boy-time is a good mix for a long-term marriage. No worries; besides, she’ll be back in time for game 4 of the ALCS (Go Orioles!)

Anyway, after dropping her off at the airport, I headed over to a local multiplex to take in a screening of, “Gone Girl.”







This is me before the screening, both a little sad because I miss my Mrs, but also…because I was going to the movies.

Where, for the past 5 years (I’m not embellishing) at every single screening I’ve ever attended, some asshat starts texting in the middle of the movie. Granted, I was getting paid to see this film, but still, it was a film I wanted to see, and ended up loving it.

But a funny thing happened during the screening that literally has not happened to me since W was President. The lights dimmed and 7,234,248 trailers followed (because we all LOVE trailers and having all the major plot points spoiled, right idiots?), I got anxious. I looked around as a few people facebooked and instagramed. I thought it would be a matter of time.

However, as Ben Affleck described removing his wife’s skull…and as he gets home to discover that she’s gone…and the truth comes out…and hour goes by…and then the whole movie…

No one texted. No one talked. Everyone was super polite! We all laughed together, gasped together, we all became one as we allowed the film to hypnotize us. As well we should have.

I was tempted to shout, “Everyone, coffee on me!” but thought better of it.

Seriously, though, this was the first time in five f–king years that everyone behaved like adults in a Los Angeles movie theater.

I have written on this subject before here, and yap about it nonstop on my show. Have things changed?

Doubtful. A friend suggested that the morning shows usually are full of polite folks such as myself who are courteous and don’t believe the world runs on their feelings. Another said that folks in Portland, Oregon never text during movies. My sister-in-law said the same of chaps and birds in London. Is this an LA thing, then?

Highlights over the years:

  • Man on Fire, 2004, The Grove: dude’s phone goes off just as Denzel is putting two bullets in a bad guys. He starts yapping. We complain. His response, “It’s my wife, guys.” Thank you, Beta Male pussy, for an accurate snapshot into your marriage.
  • Saw 3D, 2010, Santa Monica 5: Hard-R-rated horror flick. Not only are there three under-17-year olds who won’t stop texting, there is also a family of five in the front row with a median age of 5. CHILD ABUSE.
  • Lincoln, 2011, The Landmark, Westwood: Just as the film begins, older dude starts texting. And looking at porn (not kidding). We ask him to stop. His response, “I’m a doctor, and I’m concerned about my patient, so I guess I’ll leave.” To his credit, the lying sack of shit actually got up and left. Maybe he wasn’t lying; maybe he really was concerned about his patients WHILE looking at naked girls. Whatever.
  • Guardians of the Galaxy, 2014, Downtown Disney AMC: Flat-topped idiot starts texting. Won’t stop. We ask management to intervene. They do. He stops. 20 minutes, he starts again. I leave and get the manager. They come back and ask him to stop. This happens two more times. I don’t know if I enjoyed the movie. This asshole prevented me from knowing either way. HAPPY, PRICK?

All of us polite folks can’t stand it when someone starts texting, but let’s face it; the biggest reason most of us are afraid of saying something is that we don’t want to get a bullet in the head. Los Angeles is known for it’s retarded gang culture, and it is true that someone who doesn’t care about other people just might be a sociopath being willing to put a bullet in your head.

So, the solution is to get management involved (as quality control is their responsibility) but even if you are successful, you still lose overall, because you are knocked out of the film’s hypnotic hold. You miss a scene, a detail here in there, you’re thinking about your recent confrontation that you didn’t want, and the movie experience is ruined. All because some inconsiderate jerk had to find out if his selfie got any likes on instagram.

We continue to have an epidemic of morons who don’t give a shit about other people. All id, no guilt. They shave their balls at the gym (true story), they text during movies, they talk on their cell phones while driving even though it’s against the law, and their instagram profiles are chock-full of selfies.

What to do? I say shame, because shame works. At the moment, we ask nicely to not text or talk during the movies. Fucktards do it anyway. Time to switch tactics. Short of throwing them out (like Alamo Drafthouse does, which would be nice), and calling them out for what they are (which is impractical) I say that an animated talking duck walks out before the movie starts and says the following:

“If you text during the movie, you are a selfish idiot who can’t stop facebooking or checking the score. You literally cannot sit still for 90 minutes and enjoy something. You do not care about other people’s experience, only your own. You are distracting people but you don’t care. You suck. To everyone else, please enjoy the movie.”

Call them out. Seriously, we have to stop coddling people, folks.

For the first time, I have hope. With the IPIC opening up in Westwood, the Alamo Drafthouse coming to Los Angeles, and my recent experience, I see now that I am not alone. Time will tell.


Idiocracy Alert: Hot for Teacher

This is the first in yet another series, which will attempt to draw attention to the downward slope that our western society is currently on, yo. 

Let’s begin with this:

Followed by this:

“Idiocracy,” directed by Mike Judge (Office Space, King of the Kill), may be a one-joke movie, but what a joke.A future dystopia based upon dysgenics (people devolving from smart to stupid) was explored in, “The Time Machine,” to some extent in Woody Allen’s, “Sleeper,” plus a few others.

However, in Judge’s work, he points as the culprit not just low IQs, but consumerism gone wild as well as out-out-control ids with no ego or super-ego to keep them in check. It’s the latter that I wish to discuss today.

Once again, we have another case of a super-hot blonde teacher having sex with an underage boy. In this case, actually, it’s two super-hot blonde teachers. Once again, most of us are reacting in the exact wrong way. I thought the South Park guys had this all locked up but alas, nope. Have a look, in case you missed it. The satire is spot-on, as per usual:

Anyway, first things first, this article today began with a screw up on my part. A (facebook) friend of a (facebook) friend of a (facebook) friend named Brian posted the above article, and he with his buddies reacted, well, just like the cops in the South Park Episode. Without thinking, I wrote the following:

“Enough. It’s rape, end of story. No more high fives and lucky kids.”

It was only after I hit the, “Return,” key that I noticed the shiny saddle I was sitting on attached to my very high horse. Rarely does that annoying stallion ever come out of the corral. When he does, I am not paying enough attention to my own pretentiousness. I miss my own smug alert.

This horse of mine (we all have one), he doesn’t have a proper brain, he thinks he’s always right, but he’s always wrong, though not about the message, but the way he sends the message. Like a troll. I trolled Brian and it was wrong. The dude doesn’t know me and I don’t know him. I should have left it alone, and, you know, went on living my life.

So, what I got next, I had coming, no doubt. However, well, see for yourself:






Without question, Rich is misguided. That said, completely by accident, he makes an excellent point; if I were a 16-year old kid, I would have jumped at the chance, no question. No doubt. I would be lying if I said other wise.

I might be gay too, but never mind that. If you disagree with me, “YOU’RE A FAG!” DERP!

Again, of course I would have jumped at the chance, because I would not have known that it was wrong. This is why we have consent laws, folks; you do not possess the emotional maturity to consent.

And let me cut you off when you ask, “Is there a difference between an 18-year old and a 17 years, 364 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes teenager?” Please, don’t split hairs. We have to draw the line somewhere. Libertarians (small-l) like me believe that any behavior between consenting adults should be left alone by the state, the key word being, “consenting.” Get it?

Then Brian jumped in:






“I was molested…” HOLD IT. Stop, and think. I hope he’s kidding, but we have to take him at his word. And I have no more words for the man. I feel sorry for him and he can call me a, “Beiber listening fuckard,” til the cows come home, but…man I just feel sorry for him. Does this make me a, “concern-troll?” I really couldn’t care less.

Men overwhelmingly do most the raping in the world, but women can do it too. Not enough to make a permanent philosophical point, but, well, have a look.

Let’s pump the breaks, shift gears and talk about, “Twilight,” as well as, “50 Shades of Grey.” I have spent more time than I should ripping into those books on my show, as well as criticizing women for loving them so much. I’m going to skip the part about the obvious hacky writing, and I’m gonna leave it alone that the former is Mormon propaganda. Here is the real problem:

Twilight fits all 15 criteria for an abusive relationship. 50 Shades of Grey encourages women to be in abusive relationships as well.

The latter has been called,  “Mommy Porn,” and it’s funny I bring that up, because men have been criticized for liking pornography that is basically nothing short of abusive. The ladies are right on this one, fellas. Money shots to the face and constant thrusting are not what any woman with her head on straight wants.

Many men think that women have a rape fantasy. Nope. What they actually have is a fantasy of being consensually overpowered by what Dr. Geoffrey Miller and Tucker Max call a, “Tender Defender.” Is that what happened below?

I don’t know. You tell me.

Now, back to the hot teachers. I used to think women had a fantasy/reality problem. We all know that it’s the men that have a continuing problem with being the (majority) perpetrators of rape, misogyny, homophobia, and violence. Still, I thought that women were the (mostly) soul occupants of fantasy crazy town.

Nope. It’s us too. The overwhelming response of, “lucky boy!” and, “where the hell were all the hot horny teachers when I was in high school?” paints a sad, sad picture: These men, wishing they could trade places with these underage boys, cannot differentiate between fantasy and reality. Just like women who lust after a gay vampire and a 27-year-old billionaire who makes them sign a love/sex contract.

And gentlemen, there are long-term consequences. After getting raped (yup, raped) by that smoking hot teacher, after you’re done high-fiving all of your buddies…that’s where the fun stops. Addiction, depression and suicide are two very real possibilities.

This is a problem, and it has to stop. For the first time in my life, the view from the high horse isn’t so bad, and I encourage you to appeal to your better natures and do the same.


What Works For Me: The Zone


Sunday, September 28, 2014

So there I was the other day, in the middle of the toughest run of my life. It was only tough because it was the longest; 10 miles. I was aiming to beat my previous record of 8 miles, during which I broke my previous record before that of 6 miles and change during my very first 10k race.

The first 4 miles were a pain in the ass. My knees ached and my belly (nicked-named, “Wilbur” by my wife) seemed to scream to me, “Jordan, you suck, go home and order pizza.” But I kept going. And then a funny thing happened around mile #7.

I didn’t care.

Miles, 8, 9 came and went, and finally mile 10 arrived (1 hour and 45 minutes later, not bad!). I slowed down to a walk and strolled home. I spent the rest of the day watching my beloved Philadelphia Eagles get a good lesson in humility, enjoyed a cheat day of pizza and wine, and woke up the next day….wait for it…not really all that sore at all.

I was a bit confused until my wife’s lovely friend Jackie said, “Uh, Jordan, you’ve been training for this 1/2 marathon since June. You’ve trained up to this, hello???”

I was reminded of how running 4 miles would have intimidated me back in the day. Now it is practically a warm-up. A listener invited me to this last week and I almost turned it down, as it was only a 5k.

So, about that Zone. Athletes talk about it in the context of feeling, and not thinking. A pitcher throwing a no-hitter is said to be in the zone. A writer is in the zone when great word combinations just pour out of his head, pass through their fingers and into the word processor. A seductive lothario stud-muffin gets into the zone when he flirts with women effortlessly with no fear, because he’s not thinking, he’s just being.

You ever see Star Wars? Using the force? Same thing.

All good examples, but you might ask, how do you get to the zone? My answer that has worked for me is very simple; TRY.

Try, and train. Try, train…and begin.

That’s it, there is no life hack for this one. You must begin. Seems simple, but so many of us (present company included) make excuses. No excuses, play like a champion.

Running-wise, I get to the zone every run simply by understanding that the first 4 miles are going to be the hardest. The zone usually shows up when I stop thinking about how hard the run is, and focus on the music and meditation and, my phone’s running program gently tells me, “You have run…8 miles….at a 10-minute mile…pace, split pace, 10 minutes and 2 seconds, keep going, Jor-dan.  And watch out for that bus.”

Diet-wise; I don’t remember what is feels like to crave sugar in the morning. I just stopped eating it, and the first week, like the first four miles above, sucked. Now it’s the new normal. Eat healthy for one meal only. Now do another. And the next. Do it for a week. Do it for a month. The 30-day challenge thing is quite trendy at the moment for a reason…it works. Bad habits are easy to make, while good ones require effort. That’s a good thing. What isn’t earned, isn’t appreciated.

Most of us are in denial the change is a glacial process. Please build a bridge and get the hell over it. There are no get-rich-quick schemes, there is no magic pill, and anyone who says otherwise is trying to sell you snake oil.

To sum it all up, I have made successful changes in my personal and professional life by getting into that zone. I get into that zone by showing up and taking things a day at a time. I keep my gains small, but stick to my plans so that they add up exponentially, every day, little by little. Someone wiser than me said that 90% of life is showing up and following through. They’re right.

Again, don’t feel like working out? Too bad. But just do this; put on your workout clothes. 1/2 the time, you’ll keep going. Better than none of the time.

Don’t feel like running? Run the first 4 and see how you feel. Just starting out? Run 1 mile. Wait two days, and do it again. Then next week, add a 1/2 mile. Muscle through and before you know it, well, you know.

Don’t feel like eating healthy and you’re craving sugar (or its evil step-child, high fructose corn syrup)? Drink a glass of cold water, and stuff your face with lean meats and vegetables. Keep a food diary, write down every bad food you want during the week and save it for your cheat day.

Writers, don’t feel like writing? Got writer’s block? BULLS–T you’re being lazy. Start writing. I don’t care what it is, it could be nonsense. Just. Start. Writing. Give yourself a daily quota (Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day, every day).

Looks like Nike was on to something. Just do it, and the zone will come.

Note: this is a first in a new series of blog posts. I hate calling this an advice series, because most gurus and life coaches are sociopaths, and I don’t want to be anything like them, hence, I’m just going to tell you what works for me; hence the title.