In Recognition of Butchered American Accents…

I have some great friends who hail from the UK, and I love them dearly, but one too many times I’ve been subjected to these friends, and some mere acquaintances, railing about American actors who don British accents for a part and fail miserably in the ears of anyone native.  It’s not that I don’t agree, but the rant is a little old hat at this point.  Yes, we Americans suck at British accents, we’ll never understand the subtleties and complexities and we ought to be heartily ashamed.

But, my dear friends across the pond, I-35 runs North AND South ’cause y’all suck just as much at getting American accents down pat.  I’ve heard the evidence.

Knowing that recognizing the bi-lateral nature of the situation will never be enough to actually end the ranting, we at It’s My TV, It’s My Peanut Butter have opted, instead, to recognize those from outside the US who attempt to emulate one of our numerous accents and fail miserably.  If we can’t stop the butchering, we might as well celebrated it!

The benchmark for this failure was one we identified years ago.  While watching Twister we couldn’t help but cringe at Cary Elwes’ attempt at, well, we think he was trying to do a Southern drawl, but the jury’s still out.  It was obviously supposed to be some variant of a US accent, but instead it came off as what it was:  a British guy trying to do an American accent.  It grated on the ears and totally threw whatever suspended disbelief I had in the movie (which was admittedly very little) right into the swirling vortex of the CGI-tornado on screen.  I’m not sure if this was meant to be some form of payback for American actors butchering accents over the years, or if it was just an example of how hard it is to really capture the dialect of a place you’ve never lived.

It takes guts to stink up an accent that much in front of so many, and for this, recognition is order.  For” The Worst American Accent in a Feature Film”, our inaugural winner is Cary Elwes in Twister.  Congratulations.  Now, never try to be southern again, sir.

In Praise of Fundies

So not so long ago there was a meme on Facebook encouraging women to post their bra colors.  A message which seems to have gotten attached to the meme after it started proclaimed that it was being done for breast cancer awareness.  Now I’m not interested in discussing that part of it–whether it actually did anything to help breast cancer.  I doubt it did, but I think most of us knew that wasn’t what it was really about.  We were virtually flashing our friends list.  Silly?  Yes.  Bordering on the behavior of drunken sorority girls?  Perhaps.  Fun?  Definitely.

Here’s what I loved most about that meme.  It confirmed something I had long suspected:  Many of my most conservative dressing friends were wearing the craziest bras.  The women in the trendy clothes, the women who I knew were more likely to be seen in their skivvies by someone (those two groups are not the same) tended more towards “beige” and “white” and maybe “black.”  But the girls in sweatshirts?  “black with little bows,” “blue with sparkles,” “frosted plum.”  (Okay, the last one was me and I might be considered a trendy dresser, but the only time anyone but me sees my bra is if there’s a wardrobe malfunction).

Why does this make me so happy?  It dispels the idea I think a lot of men have that we wear pretty bras and underwear (anyone else find the word “panties” awkward?) for their benefit.  I love the movie Ten Things I Hate About You but I hate Bianca’s statement that you don’t buy black panties if you don’t expect someone to see you in them.  It’s false and it gives men an illusion that they hold more power than they do over our lingerie buying habits.

I loved the bra meme for essentially the same reason I went to the first day of classes this semester wearing a mulberry colored lace bra and red underwear.  Not because I thought my classmates would know, but because wearing fundies makes me feel better about myself.  It’s empowering.  It’s the thrill of sitting there in class knowing no one knows what you have under your sweater.  It’s going to work outwardly conforming to the drab corporate dress code or mundane uniform knowing you have something crazy on “they” can’t control.  It lets us express the parts of ourselves we like to keep hidden, while keeping them hidden.  And I think doing that makes you more confident and inherently more sexy.

So on behalf of the staff here at It’s My TV, It’s My Peanut Butter I would like to come out officially in support of fundies.  And occasional virtual flashing.

Oh, and for the record: royal blue.

Defining the Gratuitous Rewind Moment

Gratuitous Rewind Momentdefinition: A moment in a film, television program or other form of video or motion picture media that so captures the mind of a particular viewer that he/she rewinds and rewatches it over…and over….and over.  Gratuitously.  Generally applies to mushy, sappy, cute moments that make girly shipper-type viewers squee with joy, however the term can also apply to moments so odd or hilarious that viewers find themselves backing up to watch again and again.

The use of this term dates back to a college-dorm viewing of The X-Files episode “Post Modern Prometheus.”  A group of girls gathered around the TV kept re-winding and re-watching that little moment at the end where Mulder stands up, and extends a hand to Scully, pulling her up to dance to as the faux Cher “performed” “Walking In Memphis.”

Yes, I was one of those girls.  And so was Kristy.  And it was a defining moment.  As we finished watching the episode, there were a lot of “awe”s and “that’s so cute”s and as the credits wound up, we found ourselves glancing sheepishly at one another.  No one wanted to ask.  After all, it was rather pathetic.  A sad sign of the single-status of all the girls in the room that we were so taken with that one chivalrous moment.  That in the midst of an entire episode about the weird, strange and mysterious, each one of us was completely taken in by a less-than-three-minute exchange of a hot man pulling a woman up to dance with him in a totally surreal setting.  No, we didn’t want to admit that we were that hopelessly romantic and manipulated into the mainstream romantic schmalz.

We were trying to play it cool.

Finally, someone caved:  “Can we watch the one more time?”

Faces brightened instantly and the flood gates opened.  “YES!”  “Rewind it!”  “It’s so cute!”  So much for shame and embarrassment.

And one time?  Turned into another, and another, and another.  All in a row.  Each one yielding a little more giggling.  Until, amid the laughter, someone pointed out that we had “gratuitously rewound” that for a half hour and some of us had quizzes to study for.  So we stopped.  And from that moment forward, those “gratuitous rewind moments” were no longer something to be ashamed of wanting to see, but something to be noted, cataloged and pointed out to those friends who were simpatico enough to appreciate the particular subject and recognize the amusement to be had by reviewing it multiple times.

So, in the It’s My TV, It’s My Peanut Butter catalog of “Gratuitous Rewind Moments,”  the first entry is “Mulder getting Scully to dance at the ‘Post Modern Prometheus’.”  The first…..but not the last.

Time Vampire on Crack

You might have noticed by now that we here at It’s My TV, It’s My Peanut Butter have a thing for lists.  I don’t know what it is, because generally speaking we’re a couple of rather disorganized gals, but there’s something really satisfying about arranging bits of random material into lists.  And not to be overlooked is the major comic potential inherent in lists.  Again, hard to explain, but hopefully you know what I’m talking about.

You know who definitely knows what I’m talking about?  The folks over at  Our Time Vampire of the Week. advertises itself as “America’s Only Humor and Video Site since 1958.”  And you know, I’m trying to think back to other websites I was frequenting around 1958, and can’t think of any that related to humor or videos.  So it must be true.

But that’s not why I wind up losing hours and hours of time there.  I lose hours there because the site is full of really random, fully explicated lists.  And just now when I bopped over there one of the lists was “6 Shockingly Evil Things that Babies are Capable of.”  Anyone who knows about my evolution- defying hatred of babies understands now why I love this site.  So much so that I forgive them for starting a sentence with a numeral and ending it with a preposition.  This site brings the funny.  And their lists are hilarious, not just in terms of subject (though there is nothing funny about the evils of babies) but in the ways they explain them.  I laughed out loud at least four times in the 25 minutes I just wasted there.  For the record, I wasn’t planning to spend any time there at all.  See how an effective time vampire works?

If you’re like me and crave knowledge of the completely useless variety, Cracked is actually quite educational.  Just now I learned about the badass exploits of St. Vladimir of Kiev and why he’s one of the “Six Saints who could Kick My Ass.”  He’s also an ancestor of mine, so I’m thrilled to find out he provided humorous historical material for future generations.  It’s important to leave something behind.  A lot of the links are equipped with video and hyperlinks to provide extra material, if you don’t think a random humor website is a good enough factual source.  Also, delightfully photoshopped images.  Fun times!

I do feel I must give you this warning, however, that not all of‘s lists are completely safe for work.  Or small children.  Or factories that employ child labor.  Particularly not in the language department.  And sometimes in the picture or video department.  So explore this time vampire carefully my friends, but have fun.  (That sounds really dirty, but I’m not going to correct it.  Ha.)

How The Supreme Court Got Huevos

24 February 1803.  The United States Supreme Court hands down a decision that turned their branch from the governmental equivalent of a kid in the back of the room eating paste to the all-star-football player/valedictorian.

The case was Marbury v. Madison.  The situation was this:  On the eve of his departure from office, President John Adams rushed through a lot of judiciary appointments, mostly to his buddies in the greater DC metro area (just in case you thought politicians favoring their cronies was something new).  They were all legitimate appointments, but the shear volume made it impossible for all the papers to be delivered in one night.  Some of the appointments didn’t get handed out, but it was assumed since the paperwork was all documented, signed and sealed, the incoming administration of Thomas Jefferson would do the delivering.

But the new staff didn’t deliver those documents.  A gentlemen named Marbury who was to have received one of those appointments, well, he was ticked.  And like anyone in the legal field, he decided to sue (see, suing people isn’t new either).  So, he took his suit against Madison (who, on orders of Jefferson, had not delivered that the appointments) for a writ of mandamus (which, is just a fancy term for a command to do something–in this instance the demand would be to give Marbury his judicial appointment).  Why not go straight to the highest court?  The US Constitution didn’t really allow for this, but the Judicial Act of 1789 did.

So, here sits the Supreme Court with what’s as much a conflict between two political parties as anything (really, there’s nothing new under the moon in Washington).  What to do?

How about nothing?

Well, not nothing really, but sort-of nothing.

In its opinion, the court said that, yes, Marbury had a right to his appointment, and yes by law he could get legal recourse….but–and this is the part that gets people–the court then said, “We can’t give you your legal recourse.”

See, the Judicial Act of 1789 is what Marbury used to justify his going straight to the Supremes for his justice, but where the Judicial Act said, “Yes, the Supreme Court is the Place For You” the CONSTITUTION told another story.  Under the Constitution, the Supreme Court was not the place to go for this type of justice.  And the Supreme Court–Justice Marshall in particular–recognized that the big issue here was nothing at all to do with whether or not Marbury got his piece of paper: it was about whether Congress had the right to pass an Act that changed the jurisdiction of the Court, contradicting the Constitution itself.

It was a stroke of brilliance, by saying that they did not have the right to decide Marbury’s case, they picked up a much bigger gun for their arsenal:  the right to review Congress’s laws in light of the Constitution.  The instant power gratification the Court could have gone for by exercising jurisdiction over this case and issuing a decision to force delivery of the appointment to Madison would ultimately have rendered the Supreme Court a far weaker branch of the government.  Just another court deciding whatever petty little cases that Congress tossed into their jurisdiction.  Instead, they are a powerful branch offering a legitimate amount of power balance to the other two.

It’s one of those instances where giving up a little power resulted in much greater power in the end.

A Belated Review…

So, for various reasons I don’t necessarily understand, I went through an 80s childhood without seeing many of the movies which were supposed to have shaped my generation.  Part of it is that I was never a big TV watcher.  Part of it is that I had two older siblings that monopolized the television.  Part of it is that I was (and am) somewhat anti-social.  I know these movies were watched at my house, they were just never watched by me.  I saw bits and pieces of them when other people were watching them, but never sat down and watched them from beginning to end.  So I was in high school before I saw the original Star Wars trilogy in its entirety.  And until this year I had never seen an Indiana Jones movie from start to finish.  I’ve recently decided this needs to be rectified, so through the magic of Netflix I’m exploring the pop culture I ignored as a child.

So this feature is for me to share my thoughts on these films as I watch them for the first time.  Beginning with…

Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Director: Stephen Spielberg
Writers: Lawrence Kasdan (screenplay), George Lucas and Philip Kaufman (story)

General thoughts: I’ll admit I went into this one dubiously.  Mostly because most of the time when I finally see something I’ve heard hyped my whole life it doesn’t live up to my expectations.  Also, it’s nearly as old as me, and sometimes a film that was great in 1981 isn’t great nearly 30 years down the road.  That didn’t happen here.  Either I’m sufficiently jaded or it really is a good movie.  I think it’s the latter.  I’m not going to say it was life  changing, but I wonder what would have happened if I’d seen it as a child. I have it on good authority that several generations of anthropology students started their careers because of Indiana Jones.  (One only hopes they find out that’s not what it’s really like before they get their PhDs)

Things I particularly liked: It’s impossible for me to not watch this as someone who’s taken a crap load of anthro classes, so let’s get that out of the way.  Props for him mentioning studying at University of Chicago whose anthropology program was really coming into its own around the time Indy would have been in school.  I also like the clear delineation of his two lives/two personalities.  Awkward professor and suave adventurer.  It’s almost like the latter is a fantasy the former dreamed up to escape his dissatisfaction with his real life job.  He’s what every anthro professor secretly wants to be.  That said, I can’t help acknowledging that Professor Jones’s methods would be seriously frowned on by the American Anthropological Association.

The opening sequence was a great way to start a franchise.  It tells us everything we need to know about Indiana Jones is a short period without boring us with lengthy exposition laden with awkward dialog.  Dialog is not exactly Lucas’s strong suit, so it’s good there was someone else along to create the conversations.

I find Indiana Jones to be a likable guy, even when he’s being a douche.  A lot of this has to do with Harrison Ford’s ability to be charming and his choices in dialog.  I’m not discounting the script’s contribution here, but I think the same script with a different actor could have produced very different results.

I also like Marion.  Particularly for the early 80s she’s surprisingly strong.  I like that she’s attractive without being unrealistically so.  I like that her hair was almost always pulled back when it should be, rather than being in her face all the time (this is a pet peeve of mine.)  She’s also a fairly realistic depiction of what I’ve seen of archeologist’s/anthropologist’s kids  who spent most of their lives being dragged around the  globe while daddy was doing fieldwork.  Heightened a bit for the film obviously, but the way she’s not overwhelmed by much of anything, you get the feeling it’s because she’s been dealing with this shit since infancy.  I’ve actually met people like her.
There are so many images from that film that are just so iconic that even I, who have never seen the film before, could spot them instantly.  And I think a lot of this has to do with Spielberg’s ability to construct a shot.  There are very few moments you couldn’t grab as a screen capture and make into a pretty promo still.  Nice going.

Things I particularly disliked: Why, oh why, was it necessary for Bellog to put Marion in a filmy white dress?  Did it serve any purpose besides making her look like the helpless virgin we’d been previously told she was not?  None that I can see.  Also, cliche.  And a bad one at that.

Something was off in the pacing.  There was a part where it felt like it was time for the movie to end, even though there were lots of dangling threads.  When it didn’t end, it began to feel tedious.

But over all a good movie, totally worthy of its place is contemporary film veneration.

Coffee With… Ben Franklin

Cammy: I really don’t think I could have coffee with Ben Franklin.  Not because I don’t like him or I’m scared of him or anything like that.  I just think that he would insist on beer.  And, me having no problems whatsoever with that most blessed of beverages–I agree with something Ben once said about beer being proof that God love us and wants us to be happy–I could totally follow him down to the nearest pub or bar for a pint and some good conversation.  As long as he didn’t try to hit on us.  I mean, I want to talk inventions, his choice not to patent his works–geeky stuff.  It’s tougher to do that if the old guy is flirting with you, ya know?  I also want to give him a little heck about his comments about German girls not being quality enough for an English guy to marry without a huge dowery.  Oh, yeah, we DEFINITELY have to have a little talk about that one, Ben.

Kristy: How could I not?  Out of all our founding father’s I suspect he was the most fun to hang out with.  Cammy’s probably right about the beer, and I’m not much of a beer drinker.  But I think Ben would be okay with me sipping on a nice glass of port while he drinks his beer.  Somehow I think he’d rather I drink port than a girly, fruity malt beverage like I tend to when forced to drink beer.  It would be interesting to hear what he thinks of us now.  I suspect he thinks Americans have retained more puritanical traits than he would have hoped.  As and early defender of Native Americans I’d hate to have to tell him how much we screwed that up.  I think we could have an interesting convo about American folklore though, and I think he’d be thrilled that people are studying it seriously, rather than trying to imitate the Europeans in everything.  Got to be careful though–I suspect Ben’s the kind of enabler who refills your glass when you’re not looking.  Definitely going tandem with Cammy on this one too.

A Flaming Bag of Poo To NBC’s Olympic Coverage

Dear NBC,

I know you won’t listen.  I know you have all kinds of excuses about the cost to get the exclusive rights to the Olympics, the need to make ratings, the business aspect of the whole ordeal.  I understand all that.

I just don’t care.

Why must your Olympics coverage be crappy?  I mean, sure you’ve not sunk to the level of CBS’s Nagano debacle, but you’re racking up several Olympics’ worth of sub-par coverage and it’s enough to make me want to toilet paper your offices or send you a flaming bag of dog poo.

-I don’t want to see Bob Costas interview ANYONE.  Let him do the intros for events, give me the medal count and that’s it.  It’s wasting valuable time and nothing insightful really comes of it.  Besides, you’re just going to have the Today Show crew interview them the next morning anyhow.

-You still have too much human interest crap generally.  ANY of those touching montages in between with slow music, family pictures and a Behind-the-Music-Style voice over are useless.  I don’t feel touched.  I feel annoyed that I’m missing sports.  And this is saying something because I’m not exactly Ms. Sporty.

-Why do you discriminate against some sports?  Biathlon always gets shafted to the off-hours when most people who have school and jobs can’t watch either because they are at said work or school, or because they have to wake up at a reasonable hour.  The first two runs of women’s Skeleton were too late-night for me to see.  You know, you could shuffle at least some coverage of those in during the odd moments (like when you have Bob Costas interviewing people).  I know you’re making assumptions about what Americans want to see, but they are never going to want to watch a sport if they never have a real opportunity to see it and develop an interest–you’re not helping that situation at all.

-Your commentators.  Yeah, I’m not going to name names because it would be an extensive list, but really?  Mute these people.  So few of them give me any commentary which actually helps, and some of them just clearly do not know what they are talking about.  I especially hate when they talk through skating programs because I actually give a damn about the music (except during the Ice dancing compulsory program….then let them chatter because I don’t need any more of that Lawrence Welk-reject music than I get in one run).  One of the BEST periods of coverage I ever watched on NBC was during the Beijing games.  One of the rowing/crew events on a weekend morning, the mics clearly weren’t working and ALL you heard was the ambient noise of the water and the crowd.  It was the most awesome viewing ever.  Especially in the straight race/time events–when all I need is the time clock.

-Preempt more.  I know your local networks would probably bitch about this, but who cares–you can figure out a contract on this one and you know it.  I’d love to see the half-hour of Wheel of Fortune after the evening news filled up with some winter sports instead.  This is a matter of two weeks ever two years.  Make a real event of it.

The Olympics is essentially the only time I really sit down to watch sports and I know it’s the same for a lot of other people and every time you fail to live up to my expectations.  You have an all access, totally exclusive pass to the Olympics, NBC.  I know it’s not practical to expect that every minute be shown, but c’mon, maximize it, you schmucks.  If it’s such a losing proposition, quit bidding on it.  Let someone else take a shot because maybe they could do it right.

No Love and Lots of Poo,


p.s.  Update: 9:23pm CST.  Okay, congrats NBC, you are now lower than CBS Nagano.  Dude, seriously, you were showing free-frakkin’ style skiing while the US was playing Canada in HOCKEY?  Are you shitting me?  You couldn’t, oh, I don’t know, MENTION that they were going up against each other?  Give score updates at breaks?  Something?  I missed the cut over to hockey because your coverage contains no information about when you’ll hit what sport.  Add that to your list.  I don’t LIKE freestyle skiing (or whatever that was you were showing).  If you have to have a judge and there are points for style or artistic merit, I’m really not interested in watching because it’s subjective, not objective, so I had changed the channel (and then, actually, turned my TV off altogether).  The fact that I’ve seen NO hockey games at all this Olympics tells me there’s a problem because nothing says “Winter Olympics” like hockey, particularly when the Games are being hosted by frakkin’ Canada, land of hockey and Gretzky.  You can’t even claim that it’s not popular enough a sport to draw viewers because there are whole cable networks devoted to NHL and even TEXAS has hockey teams, and those poor SOBs don’t have naturally occurring ice over a quarter inch that lasts more than 72 hours.  Seriously NBC, get a clue on your coverage.  You are officially NOT allowed to bitch if you lose money on this deal because it’s your own damn fault.  US vs. Canada in hockey = money.

Stupid morons.

Award Season Continues…

Tonight are the Writer’s Guild Awards.  Neither Cammy or I are members of the Writer’s Guild (shocking, I know) so we’re going to continue giving out our own awards.

The Award for Most Needlessly Flashy Fight Sequence in a Motion Picture…

An ordinary person might think that a fight sequence in which four of your principal characters die would have enough drama in it.  But Kenneth Branagh knows that you can no more pack too much drama into a final duel sequence than you can pack too many A-list actors into one random Shakespearean movie.  And that is why we here at It’s My TV, It’s My Peanut Butter bestow the inaugural award for Most Needlessly Flashy Fight Sequence in a Motion Picture upon Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 production of Hamlet.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Kenneth Branagh in many ways.  And there are several things I love about this movie.  But somewhere out there is a fight choreographer with blackmail material on Mr. Branagh.  (Nick Powell is credited as “fight arranger.”  He’s my primary suspect.) I can’t think of any other reason for the final fight sequence to be quite so over the top.

The duel between Hamlet and Laertes clearly would not have held our attention on its own, and that’s why Branagh ratcheted things up a bit by interspersing the invasion of Fortinbras’ army.  Thank goodness, it was the only thing that kept me awake. (That’s a joke, in case you’re missing my sarcasm).  The pure visuals of the scene–the red carpet on the black and white floor, the mirrored hall, etc are striking, but completely overshadowed by the sheer violence of the duel, which is supposed to be, at least at the outset, amiable.  But from the moment Laertes’ sword goes sliding across the tile and Hamlet makes the switch, I just can’t keep a straight face.  Because next we have stairs, and glass display cases exploding as our heroes bump into them.  And it’s not enough for Laertes to die from being stabbed with at poison tipped sword.  No, no.  We have to have him flip over the railing of the second floor walkway so that he can gurgle out his final lines while silhouetted against the black and white tiles.  Brilliant!

But where this scene really loses me, is Claudius’s death.  I know he’s a murdering scumbag, but is there a chance that’s a touch of overkill?  Dude gets impaled with a flying fencing foil (still envenomed), pinned to his chair by a falling chandelier (complete with Tarzan!Hamlet) and then forced to drink poisoned wine.  Cathartic?  Yes.  A little silly?  Definitely.

And in the midst of all this we also kill Osric.  Because we can.

For all this death and drama and use of every stage combat technique you learned in school, we give this award to your film, Mr. Branagh.  Please share it with Mr. Powell and your stunt coordinator Simon Crane.  Congratulations.

BSG List: What kind of packer/mover is…?

This was our very first list. Maybe you have to have moved as much as I have to see why this is such an essential quality for a person, I don’t know. I should clarify that the original lists were written back in season 2 when certain characters were not prominent and there were certain things we didn’t know about other characters. Tori, Anders, Zarek and Leoben were added to most of these lists after a couple shots of coffee infused Patron the night the series finale aired.

Adama: He’s a military man who’s moved a lot, so he has it down to a science. Don’t mess with his system.

Roslin: Packs with her hair in a kerchief, rolled up sleeves, deeply engaged in the packing. She’s a bit scattered so there are usually six half packed boxes around the room.

Billy: He’s young, just starting out, doesn’t have much. Which is good, because he’s not very organized. His mom usually comes to help.

Gaius: He hires people, leaves instructions, then goes out for a nice drink. He doesn’t want to be bothered by the menial stuff.

Six: She hires movers, but wraps the china and crystal herself and stays to supervise the movers.

Doctor: Just throws it all in boxes. Or contractor bags. Doesn’t really care about much.

Dee: She’s easy going. Pretty organized

Apollo: Gets frazzled and cranky. He has a system designed specifically to contrast with his dad’s. And it’s not super effective.

Starbuck: There are a few special items she packs carefully and then she throws everything else in trash bags.

Tyrol: He has a system. He’s graphed out each box to get everything moved as efficiently as possible. Don’t argue.

Callie: Packs with Madonna blaring. Like Dee it doesn’t really rattle her, but she’s not nearly as organized.

Helo: Invites all his friends over to help and gives them pizza and beer. It’s not necessarily efficient, but it’s fun.

Sharon: Has a lot of stuff. Can’t figure out where it all comes from. Tries to be organized, but doesn’t manage.

Gaeta: The Star Wars figurines are carefully wrapped and any embarrassing materials (as well as his blackmail stash) are packed so no one sees them. Everything else is packed haphazardly in boxes.

Tigh: Snarly. Thinks he has a system but he has no sense of spatial dimensions and proportions. And by the end of the day he’s consumed so much liquor it’s all gone to hell.

Ellen: Lets the movers take care of everything. Leaves no instructions but then complains when the movers didn’t know how she wanted things.

Tori: Leaves it to the last minute and becomes quite scary to be around.

Anders: What? I have to pack? He lives out of a gym bag anyway.

Leoben: Doesn’t pack. If he has to leave he just leaves everything behind. Except his stalker box filled with Starbuck momentos.

Zarek: Rents a truck and picks up day laborers to pack and move his stuff for him. While they’re trying to work he babbles endlessly about the mistreatment of the masses in an attempt to make them aware of the unjust system in which they live.