I dreamed Donald Sutherland showed up in my kitchen and bitched me out about my public support for the war in Iraq—which took me by surprise, honestly, because up until then, the dream I’d been having was about trying to perfect the mushroom swiss omelet. While wearing a wet suit.
Fortunately, Jack Bauer quickly rappelled down my fireplace, plugged Sutherland in the leg with a single, well-placed gunshot, then jammed the old Canuck’s paw into the disposal until Sutherland confessed he hadn’t really done a whole lot of research into the Hussein regime—which, I must say, saved me the trouble of having to debate the wizened hippie on the merits of his complaint.
Not only that, but Bauer’s heroism gave me the opportunity to compliment Sutherland for his work in Philip Kaufman’s underrated remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers while I wrapped his pulpy stump in a dish towel and packed the hole in his thigh with kosher salt to cauterize the wound.
Unfortunately, all Sutherland wanted to talk about was Sophocles. And M*A*S*H.
But I figure it’s the thought that counts.
Welcome back, cauter!
That’s some rather heavy Oedipal imagery, Jeff.
Not there’s anything wrong with that.
Drambuie brings out my inner Freud, man.
I blame Tomatin, which is so nasty a 12-year old single malt that I had to mix it turn it into a mixed drink to get it down.
Are you sure it was the real Donald Sutherland and not an alien that snatched his body?
Cause you know that’s what happened.
LIAR!
I remember when I was, oh, twelve, and my dad was stationed in Korea; my mom was living with us three kids on Kirtland AFB. One week, my sister’s and my ballet lesson (on which money was wasted – my nickname was and is “Grace” because I ought to wear clown shoes all the time) was postponed from Tuesday to Wednesday, and my mom, wanting to take the three of us to a nice, peaceful movie at the base theater, got the movie listing confused because of said postponement. She thought we were going to see You Light Up My Life (which is bad enough); we ended up seeing Rolling Thunder, in which the protagonist does in fact get his hand ground off in a garbage disposal.
My younger sister and brother caught on immediately to that fact and started watching the movie through their fingers in sheer horror. I thought he’d been horribly, disfiguringly scalded by the hot water running down the drain, and didn’t actually figure out the real deal until after the movie was over. (Great powers of observation…) My mom, apparently not wanting to waste money, kept us – at 12, 10, and 8 – there in the theater for the whole movie. I need to remember to ask her about that…
Yuck.
Surely the name was a hint of horrors in store?
Eh. I thought it was Scottish word meaning “quality” or “malted by the clear waters of Monadhliath hills” or some other such bullshit.
Plus, it was on sale.
Rolling Thunder! William Devane! Been waiting for that to come out on DVD. One of the best Vietnam Vet gone CRAZY revenge flicks ever—up there with Cutter’s Way.
A Big Bush – Little Bush allegory?
Well, I suppose if you HAVE to do it when purchasing a single malt.
(He says in his best Bill Buckley patrician sniff.)
Let’s leave my Woodstock II experience out of this, shall we?
Why shoot him? Just hand him a cake, and let nature take its course.
Your subconscious Donald can now safely be called “Lefty.”
Wow, I’d forgotten there was one of those! Hmm, nudity 25 years later… Shudder.
You know what else Drambuie does? Makes you listen to Echo and the Bunnymen’s greatest hits DVD.
The band I used to work with in the mid-late eighties did a cover of “Rescue.”
It won’t be long before Drambuie has me listening to the soundtrack from Vision Quest, I fear.
What’s with the wetsuit ? ……. someone had to ask ….
You got me. It was a dream.
Fear of butter splatter?
He didn’t want to talk about Kelley’s Heroes?!?!
“This is a byooteeful tank!”
Freaking pragmatist ….btw , I think the scotch you mentioned is manufactured by a multinational pharmacutical conglomerate that produces decent diet pills , as well as scotch ….stick to the Drambuie…..
It is a testament to the readers of this blog that I was beaten to the Oedipal post by two hours.
***on the second freakin’ post***
Where did all these clever people come from? I thought that I was the second smartest guy in the room…this always happens when I visit here.
Cthulhu,
For what it’s worth, I voted for you for Texas governor this year. I figure, why chose between the lesser of two evils.
Jeff,
If Donald had broght along Kristy Swanson from the Buffy movie, Jack might have popped him twice. Jike likes himself some Buffy
Always wit’ tha negative wave, cthulhu; always wit’ tha negative waves!
Let’s not piss off any Elder Gods, shall we? They tend to turn nasty when annoyed. Like that time a neighbor of mine had his head drilled into and his brains sucked out by an invisible flying HORROR from beyond space and time!
Come to think of it, he did look a lot like Sutherland – Donald, that is, not Keith.
‘Cause Bauer kicks ass.
…
What was I talking about?
OMG. I just realized….Jack Bauer is played by Kiefer Sutherland, and Kiefer Sutherland’s father is Donald Sutherland….so…he shot HIS OWN FATHER!!
Do you people understand the layers of irony in this?
You’re askin’me?
Yin/yang, cthulhu–on another thread I called Latvia a Balkan republic.
And I am no where near even a thimble of Tomatin.
Thanks for the kind words of support from RobB, mojo, and (indirectly) CraigC. ***sniff*** It’s been so stressful.
It’s just that I’m so used to totally dominating discussions. Bringing the firstest with the mostest.
Except here, where I’m just one of the guys. Especially as compared to our illustrious host, his avatars, alternate personalities, oddly verbose inanimate houseguests, figments, delusions, and the armadillo.
TSI—I’ve got some negative waves headed your way. Watch your dreams.
***I’d like to thank the Academy…..***
Hate to say it, cthulhu, but you were beaten to it in the post proper.
cf., Sophocles.
I already expected to be the second smartest person here.
Any truth to the rumor that Kiefer’s childhood nickname was Rex?
Just threaten to talk to Sutherland about S*P*Y*S. He whimpers like a whipped bitch…
As long as that’s all Donald was doing. I once had him in my kitchen and he insisted on reaching to an upper shelf while not wearing any pants, a la Animal House. Had to kick his bare ass out of the house.
I’ve always wondered what the hell Katie could’ve possibly been thinking.
A more important question: has alpo ever HAD any bush?
I doubt it.
Oh, that Sophocles!
“I’d rather marry
a duck-billed platypus
Than end up
like old Oedipus
Rex”
A in his class?
Underrated?
Good Vietnam bet gone crazy flick – “The Park is Mine”. Tommy Lee Jones and Helen Slater.
Supergirl goodness. And Yaphett Kotto.
Doesn’t get any better.