Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Sam

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Sam

"Like a Rolling Stone"

Bob Dylan

Highway 61 Revisited, 1965

I'm the oldest grandchild in my family, so no older cousins. But my Aunt Katie was significantly younger than my mom and way more into music than either of my parents.

Although our tastes over time diverged, she was very formative in my access to music, because she was excited and generous. I endured the Grateful Dead and Jack Johnson recommendations to be exposed to her massive CD collection. I got carte blanche to borrow what I wanted. 

The first CD I remember listening to was Dylan's masterpiece, and track one featured here jumps out at you. Like many of the CDs borrowed, I tape-recorded the fuck of this record (paired with The John Lennon Collection as B-side).

Although I've trashed my CDs and my aunt has since died, I still have all my tapes. Each one brings me back to one I have lost; none more so than "Like a Rolling Stone."

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Pam

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Pam

"Today"

The Smashing Pumpkins

Siamese Dream, 1993

When it comes to big families with lots of cousins, the Pollyanna route at Christmas is the way to go. One year, I picked the oldest cousin, who was in high school and lived in northeast Philly (leagues cooler than Feasterville) on my dad's side for my Pollyanna. His list had a few CDs on it, and I ended up gifting him the Smashing Pumpkins' album Siamese Dream. So, did he explicitly "tell me" about the song "Today" on Siamese Dream? Probably not. But whenever I hear "Today" or see that album cover, I instantly think of that Pollyanna year and my cool older cousin.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Mandy

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Mandy

"Nothing Worth Keeping"

Ghost Chant

single, 2021

I had to start from scratch on this one. I have a few cool cousins, but there are few with which I share any type of musical bond. So, for purposes of this prompt, I reached out to my cousin Anthony.

I'm not really sure how much older Anthony is than me, or really much about how we started a friendship, except that it started very naturally and has progressed as we've gotten older. He's quick to call me on my bullshit, but he's also quick to hang out with me or take my calls, and that's really the kind of friendship I need in my life.

 

Anyway, Anthony responded to my request for a song with "Nothing Worth Keeping" by Ghost Chant. I don't know much about this band, nor is there much info available about them online, but Anthony describes them as "a NY up-and-coming hardcore band."

This type of stuff isn't usually my cup of tea, but there is something about this song I really like. My issue with most HaRdCoRe stuff usually is that it is all completely rough edges and screaming, with no room for melody. "Nothing Worth Keeping" almost falls into that trap, but the subtle harmonies and descent into melody kick in pretty quickly. After listening to this song a few times for the sake of this assignment, it has not left my head.

Maybe Ghost Chant is headed for greatness in the East Coast hardcore scene; they certainly have the trappings to do so. This song reminds me of something Dave N****o would blast in our six-block ride home from the Laf, windows down and ready to shake the geriatric dining room dust off our shoulders.

I'm not sure if ghosts can chant, but if they can, it might sound like the guttural screams of these NY rockers.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Stephan

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Stephan

"The Matrimony"

Wale ft. Usher

The Album About Nothing, 2015

A huge fan of Wale, my cousin, Kevin, recommended "The Matrimony" to me around 2015/2016. At that point, I was largely unfamiliar with the artist's catalogue, but I was immediately drawn to this song due to its opening monologue by Jerry Seinfeld. It was a fun combination of two things I really liked—hip hop and Seinfeld. Later I found the album, The Album About Nothing, on which this song appears was a continuation of a whole Seinfeld-inspired mixtape series. Not a great mixtape, but a fun concept!

"The Matrimony" came to me at an interesting point in my life.  I was navigating the anxieties of adult life, and constantly preoccupied with thoughts about the future of my relationship with Allison. As cheesy as it sounds, this song was the catalyst for my wedding proposal.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Brittany

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Brittany

"Two Princes"

Spin Doctors

Pocket Full of Kryptonite, 1991

My cousin Eric, who is I don't even know, maybe ten years older than me, babysat my brother and I one time. I've always looked up to him. He was so cool. So when he babysat us and popped in this album, I obviously forever associated the Spin Doctors with all things hip and fresh. I think this tune stands the test of time. It's still a catchy bop. Like, if there is any documentary done on the '90s, this song will make it into the soundtrack 100%. ya yeaaah, de dee dee deep de dee deep de deep a deep a do-bo do-ba do-ba do-ba.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Nate

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Nate

"Temptation"

New Order

single, 1982

I don’t know what kind of fighter I was. Bad, is probably the right word: reluctant, hesitant, acting only out of defense or, like when I gave Kyle a shot before he became Blackstar, on some pure lethargic reflex long laid dormant by modern luxury and generations of cowardice, not to be counted on again. The truth is that I was afraid every time I got in the ring to do anything other than mitt work. I was afraid every time I walked into the gym, afraid as we stretched and ran laps, afraid as we did stairs and rope, afraid while we did the heavy bags and the speed bags, afraid as we worked on defense. On the best days I would lay on the floor of the locker room, exhausted, my toes barely visible like distant hills over the horizon of my gut, secure in the knowledge I had gotten through the day and I didn’t have to fight anyone, that I was at the furthest possible point from the next time I'd be back in the gym.

Mostly I was the kind of fighter who needed something to do between the end of the school day and the nighttime hours spent in an empty apartment. The night Nicky beat me, I hobbled up the steps of the gym and shuffled my way to the bus stop a few blocks away from Peaquad's. Two buses and one transfer later I was back at 2B in the Manor Apartments complex, a concrete tenement with four towers, no security deposits, washing machines that didn't work and a crumbling fire escape. I don't remember exactly what I did when I got home that night, but I can make an educated guess: three microwaved hotdogs, English homework, sitcom reruns until I fall asleep waiting for a mother to come home from hospital second shift and waiting for a father to come home from getting cigarettes a decade ago.

It only took a few weeks of nights like that before I developed hobbies just to stretch out the days and contract the nights alone. Football was good for the fall because there were away games and two-time practices that could go as late as eight, nine, 10 PM. Winter was, unfortunately, indoor track, which didn't give me cardio as much as it gave me a chance to sit around and play cards with the other losers until it was time to spend 30 seconds throwing a shotput. Spring was harder before I fell in with Peaquad, and hard in a different way after, but you come to appreciate any kind of company when the alternative is being alone.

I know what this all must seem like. It seems pathetic, even to me, to think about all of this old shit now. But every time I see Colleen, all the sensory shit comes back. The feel of felt, the taste of blood, the weight of the gloves, the blunt, then acute, pain of a well-placed punch. The vacantness in the eyes. The inching, towering darkness of the apartment. The silence.

I'm outside Colleen's apartment now. I've got the key to the place in my hands. I'm listening. To hear if she's in there. To hear if she's not. To hear if her neighbors are shuffling around, if anyone is coming up behind me from the stairs, if anyone is coming down from above. If I am alone, or if I am just made to feel like I am alone. I have spent enough time alone to know the difference, which is part of what makes me useful, Colleen says. I listen, and I wait, and I think about how all this happened, how Colleen and I came together and stayed together. I don't believe in fate. I don't really believe in anything, I don't think, but isn't this something like predetermination? The bouts? The car crash? The pills? The network? The protection? Aren't these 25 years too specific to be random chance? If it's not fate, it's something close to it, something near enough to make the grade.

So I listen, and I breathe, and I hold the key to Colleen's apartment in my hand, and I think about the first time we met, because whenever I think of her I'm 17 all over again, for better or worse. Usually worse.

But it's not just that. It's also this: you will forget many things, especially the meaningful things you swear you will hold on to. The mind is not a camera, it's a box television with bent wire rabbit ears catching whatever images it can through the snow. I can't recall my first kiss, who it was with or what it felt like. I know who I lost my virginity to, but all I remember is how I smelled (like piss) and how worried I was that I would finish too soon (take a guess). I can't remember what my mother's last words to me were, though I can remember which wing of the hospice center she was in (the "Faith" wing, which always felt a little more desperate and final than the ulterior "Hope" wing that her healthcare would not afford her). I can't recall my father's face, just his black jacket exiting the apartment as I sat on the floor and played with my matchbox car. You will forget friends, places, things you have done and people you have done them too. Everything will leave you, except for this: you will always remember the first time you're beaten, and you will always remember the first time you beat someone else. In that way, I'm always thinking of Nicky, and of Colleen.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Dave

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Dave

"Bullet with Butterfly Wings"

The Smashing Pumpkins

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, 1995

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was released in 1995, and proceeded in ruling the rest of the 1990s. When I started getting into music around the age of ten, my older cousin, as all '90s teens, was into the Smashing Pumpkins, and played this song for me in his bedroom in Mayfair. I liked the Smashing Pumpkins but never loved them.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Fisher

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected(?) by Fisher

"I Got Nothin'"

Darius Rucker

Charleston, SC 1966, 2010

Fisher: Yeah, I got nothin'. I have older cousins but none that ever shared music tastes. Can't win 'em all.

Joe: Give me more words for your May 31st entry. 50 word minimum.

Fisher: Oh yeah my submission was a long-winded way of saying I don't have anything that applied, unfortunately. I'll omit that day.

Joe: I'll just add our email conversation in as an editor's note to get it above 50. I think it'll be funnier like that than just skipping.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Maeve

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Maeve

"Dog Problems"

The Format

Dog Problems, 2006

As previously mentioned in my SSC write-ups, my taste can sometimes be deemed as "basic." But please keep in mind that I have picked Spanish Love Songs, Mannequin Pussy, and PUP for PoYB Record Club, so it's not truly all Top 40. That being said, my older cousins have always been mainly radio-hit listeners. Therefore, I'm taking the "cooler cousin" prompt and switching it to be about a high school friend, A. Lord knows where he is right now, but he was the cool friend who not only was in a band, but told me about new music I'd never heard of. When I think about time with him, it's similar to the scene in Almost Famous where Zooey Deschanel leaves William records, saying "look under your bed, it will set you free." Granted, I was learning about punk and emo bands that were playing in a local church basement, but you know what I mean. Music that A introduced me to was so formative to who I am today.

That being said, I went to my first official concert (Gym Class Heroes, the Starting Line, the Format, and All American Rejects) and months before, A told me that I was going to love the Format. And boy, oh boy, I did. I had him burn me the album Dog Problems and would listen on repeat. Hearing those songs can instantly take me back to being sixteen and spending nights just driving around with friends. Specifically, the titular song "Dog Problems" was so different from anything I listened to at the time. So dancey, so fun... I love a song that spells something out. Contextually the lyrics are so angry—but the tune isn't at all. It's great. This prompt is making me feel nostalgic in the best way.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Joe

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Joe

"Ripple" (Live)

Grateful Dead

Ladies and Gentlemen... the Grateful Dead
Released in 2000, recorded in 1971

It's weird, I don't really remember my cousins (paternal side, but really the only side on which I had any cousins, before the age of like fifteen, when my mom's younger brother started spittin' 'em out) having all that much of an impact on me as far as pop culture goes. My older cousins subconsciously informed me what it meant to be cool and funny, but they didn't really have much say as far as what kind of entertainments were cool and/or funny. This probably had to do with the fact that hanging out with cousins usually meant fucking around in one of the families' backyards or city blocks, playing Capture or Hide and Seek, and then much later drinking heavily. I don't remember too many discussions about what music the older kids were listening to, which primetime TV shows were hip, I don't remember going to the movies with my cousins, or concerts, etc. When the television was on in whatever basement or rec room we were chilling in, it usually featured sports, my older male cousins being really into basketball.

I guess there were a few moments that I can recall, all these years later, that were pop culture-related.

• Friday nights were the norm for birthday parties when we were young, and I definitely remember being in my cousin Bridget's basement on a Friday night with the T.G.I.F. lineup on the TV. Specifically, I recall Sabrina the Teenage Witch, which Wikipedia confirms was in the T.GI.F. lineup from '96 to 2000, which tracks for the time period I'm talking about here. It's not like I was actively watching the show, I just remember it being on the TV while we were playing hide and seek in the dark or whatever.
• That same basement featured an NES, which, shit, must've been when I was two or three years old, since I received a SNES for my fourth birthday. I don't think I was allowed to actually play. Maybe a round or two of Duck Hunt, I don't know. I don't begrudge the older cousins for not giving me a turn, especially now that I'm watching my own three-year-old daughter attempt to play Mario Kart 64 and have to bite my tongue to not say anything.
• My first experience with South Park was at another cousin house. It was probably New Year's Eve. Maybe I'm just saying that because we annually celebrated New Year's Eve at this house, though it easily could've been another celebration. I also don't remember if I myself thought that I was too young to be watching it, or if that was something that my dad implanted in my brain. I don't recall the age that this happened during, so I can't make a judgment either way. I remember the episode featured a starving child from India(?) that Cartman(?) had adopted(?). I certainly don't remember the details, and I'm not going to look it up now, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that the episode in question has not aged well.
• In another basement at another cousin house, this time in the suburbs (allegedly in the house next door to a house where some pivotal scenes in Crying in H Mart take place, but that's probably mythopoeia from my uncle). I remember playing on the Sega Genesis an old WWF video game, an 8-bit thing featuring the old wrestlers like Hulk Hogan, Brett "the Hitman" Hart, Bozo the Clown, and all the old guys that were around a few years prior to my WWF heyday. This was a different situation than the NES thing from earlier; I was older, and mostly trying to avoid my cousins by hanging in this basement, playing video games by myself. I was shy, and I didn't really have much in common with my cousins around this time. This was pre-drinking days, it should go without saying.
• Upstairs in that same house, I was pulling the same shit (avoidance) by hanging on their family desktop computer, which had exactly one game that I could play without clogging up my uncle's phone line by connecting to the AOL dial-up modem internet, and it was this Spider-Man thing. But it wasn't an action game, it was more like... an art thing? Or like, an animation thing? In which you could create little cartoon movies using pictures of Spider-Man and his villains and whatnot? I literally haven't thought about this computer program in like twenty years, but I'm seeing now that it did indeed exist—I'm not just making it up—and I remember the kindness that my uncle showed me by letting me boot up the computer in the laundry room to play this thing, and the ire of my father that I was doing this instead of hanging out with my older cousins who by and large didn't want anything to do with me around this age.
  

But note that none of that has anything to do with music, and perhaps also note that none of these are any older cousin purposefully exposing me to and helping me to participate in any of the pop culture moments. I was usually just here, watching them participate, or I was there, bunkered in and playing whatever games they had lying around.

So to answer the prompt today, there's really only one answer. It was my oldest cousin, Jim (there are two Jims, I'm talking about the older one), who I guess had heard that I was getting into music early in my high school years, and decided to make me a couple burned CDs of some Grateful Dead. There is a particular type of person who becomes a Dead Head, and Jim definitely fit the bill. The two CDs I got from him were Workingman's Dead, and then a live album, possible a Dick's Pick? But time has long ago washed away the memory of which live album he bestowed upon me.

This was long before the Grateful Dead's indie cred rose prominently in the 2010s, so kudos to Jim for being ahead of the curb in this regard. I appreciate it. But it also makes me think about this idea of "entry to the canon." If you're trying to get a friend or loved one into a band, then what is your responsibility as a curator? And what kind of choices can you make to get your suggestion to stick?

For my money, a well-regarded studio album is a way sturdier choice than a fucking bootleg live album. I remember listening to whatever live album it was, and just being kinda perplexed. I had never heard the Grateful Dead before at all, so I didn't speak their language yet. Hearing that language spoken in a live concert setting was really off-putting. You have to build up to it, ya know?

So even if a live Grateful Dead album was the wrong pick in terms of burning copies for one's younger cousin, it still made an impact on me, because now I think about that every time I'm trying to recommend something to one of my friends or loved ones. You gotta know where to start. It requires a deft hand.

It's funny, though, because I did eventually connect with the Dead, at least enough that when it was time for Jim to get married, I recognized his wedding song—"Ripple," a really cool pick for a couple's first dance—even though that song is not featured on Workingman's Dead, and was definitely not on whatever live album I got from him. In the space of two minutes, in that dimmed-lights union hall, under the haze of light beer from pitchers that I was sharing with my cousins for the very first time, validation came from multiple directions—the Grateful Dead are awesome; my cousin knew what he was talking about; I was connecting with my other cousins on a level I hadn't known previously, via alcohol, which was a great way to avoid the laundry room Spider-Man Cartoon Maker sessions in the future; family is important.

I think at the end of the day this is going to remain pretty much the only time in my life when one of my cousins "told me about" music that connected with me enough for me to write about it on the blog. My cousins are still out there, living their lives, but I'm finding a certain sense of remove remains post-COVID. We've chilled a couple times in the past three years, but when we're hanging, in those extremely sparse moments in between dealing with all our respective kids who are running around, there isn't really much time for talk about music. There never was, come to think of it. (And don't even talk to me about what the fuck I'm going to do at a family party without alcohol now, jesus fucking christ.)

I do wonder where my life would be if I had older cousins who burned me CDs and showed me what was cool. I wonder if, like a pebble thrown in a pond, that difference would have rippled out and changed my life in significant ways.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Lamson

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Lamson

"Knock Knock"

Mac Miller

K.I.D.S., 2010

So I truly don't think any of my cousins ever shared music with me. But when I was in my early 20s, I found out that my cousins who live in Pittsburgh actually went to grade school with Mac Miller, and they knew him as "Little Malcolm." There's one song he has about the market, and we actually went there and got sandwiches one time when I was visiting. So I'm going to go with "Knock Knock" by Mac Miller.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Galia

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Galia

"Poetic Justice"

Kendrick Lamar ft. Drake

good kid, m.A.A.d city, 2012

I think all my cousins are cooler than me. Whether it be my paternal and maternal first cousins, or my paternal first cousins once removed, they were always up on the new fashion and song trends. At a young age I gave up trying to pretend that I knew what they were talking about and just soak up their coolness. The most prominent memory was when my cousin Jeremy first showed me Kendrick Lamar. I was in early high school and we were driving around to who knows where, and he played "Poetic Justice." The coolness that emanated from that song and Kenrick and Jeremy blew my mind! And what was even cooler is that Jeremy truly started listening to Kendrick before others caught on to his coolness too.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Pat

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Pat

"The Saga Begins"

"Weird Al" Yankovic

Running with Scissors, 1999

In late 1999 or early 2000, my cousin played "The Saga Begins" while we were hanging out in his backyard. As an eight-year-old with Baby Boomer parents, two of my biggest cultural touchstones were The Phantom Menace and "American Pie." To hear them both in that instant, synthesized so perfectly, so accessibly, so hilariously, blew my goddamn mind. My understanding of what comedy was and what it could be would never be the same. Postscript: Decades later, introduced that same cousin to his now fiancée. I am officiating their wedding later this year. Consider us even, Erich.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Bob

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Bob

"Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)"

Journey

Frontiers, 1983

This was before Stranger Things made this song cool. I think this was maybe part of a Rock Band-type game. And we were hanging at Ant's house in Harleysville one day, and he put it on, and to this day it's still one of my favorite songs. I probably would have heard it eventually anyway, but it's a cool little thing me and Ant have.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 3: Walter

Prompt: "A song your cooler cousin told you about"

Selected by Walter

"Today"

The Smashing Pumpkins

Siamese Dream, 1993

"Today" came to mind. Well, the Smashing Pumpkins did at least. And my cousin James (Dad's side) liked this band I think. Not that we ever listened to it together, but I just recall him saying he liked the Smashing Pumpkins. Anyway, this song reminds me of him during the '90s, when our families would hang out still. Remember when kids would play with fake guns? We did that all the time—cops and robbers. And we'd play in the woods before our parents started warning us of ticks and Lyme disease. Or we'd play some Nintendo 64 / Playstation. Those initial days of discovering new tech was so much fun. Those were the greatest Todays ever. Such is every day, since I guess I can't go back. Makes me want to hang out with the family again. What's next?

Exit Survey: Sunny on Fear of Death

See the rest of the exit surveys HERE.

 

1. Were you happy with the reviews that were published? How do you feel about your week as Record Club captain?

For sure. Normally when I submit something weird I expect a Joe/Nate/Sunny situation, but we're in a new era of Record Club. It's nice to see, and nice to see going strong almost halfway into the year.

2. How was the variety of opinions? A wide range, kinda samey, or somewhere in the middle?

Somewhere in the middle—people seemed generally favorable with different puts and takes on what they like or how much. Nate, as said previously, hit the mark on the overall Heidecker experience and delivery. I'm with Melissa that "Someone Who Can Handle You" is a lyrical stand-out. Kai's point, that the self-contrasting nature of the album could be off-putting, is valid (I'm pretty sure I've had the same feeling for previous RC albums, and not quite sure why I don't here). Walter discovering it's a concept album in real time was entertaining. Pam's relation to death from being a nurse is a strong unique perspective and seeing her come around on the album is neat. I generally agree it's a "mood-dependent" album of "sad dad" music, despite being ostensibly comedic. I'm "sad dad" sans children (i.e. sad lad).

3. Were there any differing opinions that made you view the album in a different light?

Ofc JMK's Marathon Man homage/parody is the "big swing" you expect from your editor-in-chief. So is the album funny?  Uhhhhhhh, sure, yeah, I guess. I mean, it's not not-funny, but it's not what I'd point someone to first for comedy, even Tim Heidecker-style absurd comedy. It's clever chuckle funny more than gut belly laugh funny. It's probably funnier than Cheekface (funny in a cheeky sort of way), but less funny than Weird Al (funny situationally/conceptually in a parody sort of way). Is the Marathon Man parody here itself funny? Uhhhhhhh, sure, yeah, I guess.

4. Was there anything about this album or this artist that you wished that people would've written about more?

I'd actually welcome more of Gary's Adult Swim talk. Maybe in a PoYB side column.

5. How do you feel about your album choice now that the week is over? A success? Any regrets?

Regrets? Nah this felt like a surprising success review wise. Last album before summer really starts is a weird comedy parody concept thing; now time for some more fun.

6. Any other takeaways from the reviews? Or from this experience in general?

After the week I am no longer afraid of dying. This has its pros and cons overall.

7. What is an improvement that Record Club can make that would enhance everyone's experience, either as a captain or as a listener/writer?

PoYB is under contract with a Private Equity LBO to streamline operations and unlock more shareholder value, after which time the yearly Taco Bell party will be sunsetted and replaced by a new monthly subscription taco package (PoYB Gold). Current PoYB subscribers will get 1 month free. Bundles are also available with Fatter, Older+ and RebaNation.

Five Questions, May 2023

Joe answers five questions that he wondered aloud to himself throughout the month. Ideally, I'd tend the 5Qs garden every month, but in practice, I end up answering five questions maybe once a year tops, i.e. whenever I think of the fifth question and write it on the phone memo.

1) How do they keep things fair at the Special Olympics when there are so many different types of disabilities?

Hopping in a taxi and screaming, "to Wikipedia, and step on it!" The first thing I learned on Wikipedia is that I'm mixing up two completely different organizations. The Special Olympics are for athletes with intellectual disabilities, and the Paralympic Games are for athletes with physical disabilities. The Special Olympics do not, as far as I can tell, have different classifications of athletes or disabilities, and those who compete are there for the physical, emotional, and psychological health benefits.

The Paralympic Games are more focused on the competitions, and thus have divisions and subdivisions. The six divisions are wheelchair, amputee, visually impaired, cerebral palsy, intellectual disability (so, there is crossover between Special Olympics and Paralympic Games), and les autres (those disabilities that do not fit into the other five divisions, e.g. dwarfism), and subdivisions are based on severity of disability.

Look—I figured it was fair, and this question was never because I thought it might not be. I was mainly just curious as to how they made the competitions fair, and it seems that it's fair enough that everyone is having a good time.

2) How does a garbage disposal guarantee that your drain isn't going to get clogged with food??

For most of my sad life of ignorance, I assumed that the big thing attached the bottom of the garbage disposal was a food holder, and that you would have to occasionally empty it so that the garbage disposal wouldn't become too full to work. That was stupid; this is not what the question is about. I'm mostly wondering, like, what prevents food too big from getting shoved into the drain and clogging it? It's not like the disposal grinds up every piece of food perfectly every single time.

Yes, the motor grinds up the food, but here's the key piece of new (to me) information: it doesn't go directly from blade to pipe. Instead, the blades (which really aren't sharp, they just move really quickly) grind the food and push it to the outer edge of the grinding area, where there are tiny little holes. The food must be small enough to get through the hole before it gets to the exit pipe. This ensures that the food is small enough and does no clogging.

3) Why does placing a finger under my nose seem to stop a sneeze 99% of the time???

I'm not asking about the act of closing your nose and mouth while you sneeze in an errant attempt to stifle said sneeze. That's fucking dangerous, don't be an idiot and try it. No, I'm talking about simply placing one single finger (usually the index finger) under your nose, gently, during that pre-sneeze sensation when you just know you're gonna sneeze in the next few seconds.

Have you ever tried it? Usually works for me. Not that I'm stopping a sneeze too often. I think sneezing feels great. It's cathartic. Maybe I feel that way because I've always had a loud sneeze, and I also crave attention. Anyway, the one context in which I stop the sneeze with the finger maneuver is when I'm peeing. I have no idea if this is a male-only thing, or if females and non-binary individuals get this as well, but sneezing when you're in the middle of peeing is truly awful, like your penis is going to pop like a balloon.

Okay, so, why? The answer is pretty simple—it's all about distraction. There's a nerve in your nose called the maxillary nerve, and its stimulation is what you feel in the moments before you sneeze. That sensation is the maxillary nerve sending a signal to the brain that it's almost time to sneeze. When you place a finger on your upper lip, basically what you're doing is pressing on a different nerve, and distracting your brain from the signal that it had previously received from the maxillary. It doesn't even have to be that specific upper-lip nerve. Apparently pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth will do the trick too. I'll have to try that one next time I'm against the urinal.

4) Does a lightsaber just cut things, or could you theoretically use one to make an entire object disappear????

Hopping in a taxi and screaming, "to Wookieepedia, and step on it!" Willow has sporadically been into Return of the Jedi recently, and I was thinking about lightsabers. We mostly see the weapon used to cut things in half, but they are pretty beefy cuts. Luke's whole fucking hand gets chopped by Vader's lightsaber, and it's so hot that it doesn't even bleed. My question is whether it's like a sword in that it splits something in two, or if it's so powerful that it makes pieces of that something disappear.

I'm going to take a reddit thread seriously, so I'm sorry in advance. But I assume anyone who writes in r/AskScienceFiction is going to know what they are talking about. This OP asks about cooking bacon with a lightsaber, the top answer is that you couldn't touch the bacon directly because it would be "vaporized." If I'm taking that literally, then we can assume that a lightsaber is so hot that it literally makes shit disappear (i.e. turn into a vapor and float off into the sky).

I dunno... I mean, I realize this is all fictional anyway, but I just wanted to know if... let's say Luke actually killed Yoda instead of Yoda dying of old age, and that whole "disappearing" thing was actually faked, and Luke just got rid of the body. Could Luke use his lightsaber and methodically use it on Yoda's corpse inch by inch so that the entire body was vaporized and there was no evidence of the murder? I'm just speaking hypothetically here. It sounds plausible, though.

5) Why does bleu cheese that comes with wings, like at a restaurant or a bar or whatever, taste so different than the bleu cheese that you'd buy at the supermarket to use as a salad dressing?????

Okay, for this one, I'm more focused on the validity of the question than the actual answer. You want the answer? Here you go: YES there's a fucking difference. You may not have noticed before, but I have. I have lived my entire life knowing that the bleu cheese you get as a side with buffalo wings is different than the bleu cheese you buy in a bottle and keep in your refrigerator. The difference is taste, consistency, texture, chunkiness, ingredients, fucking everything about it.

But the question is important too. I finally looked up the answer for this blog post, and I'm glad I'm not going crazy, because every time I posed the question for the past twenty years, I've been looked at like I'm a fucking lunatic, like I'm posing some nutso conspiracy theory. "Just grab some more from the fridge," I'm told, after we run out of the small measure of bleu cheese provided for the takeout wings, "it's the same thing, isn't it?" No, it isn't, you buffoon.

One time I was bringing wings to my parents house for a family gathering. I was walking up the front steps, and in the act of brushing away the spiderweb that hangs over the top step every single time I have crossed the threshold in the past two decade of my life, I dropped the bleu cheese. "We have some in the fridge, it's all good," says my mother. No, you don't, and no, it's not. So I call Hollywood Tavern, and ask them, can I have a pint of bleu cheese? And they are like, what? Just bleu cheese? The bartender couldn't believe it. They refused to believe that it was worth going to a fucking dive bar for bleu cheese rather than go across the street to the Giant to get some.

No one believes me. But it's true. you know that now. You either did the research on your own, or you trusted the blog that you've read every day for the past fifteen years. The matter is settled. There are different kinds of bleu cheese. Don't back down! Stand your ground! Demand the right bleu cheese for your hot wings!

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Stephan

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Stephan

"Microphone Fiend"

Eric B. & Rakim

Follow the Leader, 1988

Hip hop has always been my preferred genre of music, but it's been harder to stick with and stay interested in its artists/songs of today. While a part of this feeling is probably the simple fact that I am getting older and my tastes are changing, I definitely believe that there are fewer songs in the genre being produced today that have any real longevity.

I'll save a deep dive into why today's hip-hop/rap music lacks lasting appeal for another day. Instead, I'll just share this 1988 classic by Eric B. and Rakim.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Dave

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Dave

"My Michelle"

Guns N' Roses

Appetite for Destruction, 1987

Guns 'N Roses and 1987 are synonymous with each other. I loved their debut album, Appetite for Destruction, while finding myself musically when I was a kid. I eventually played them out and lost all taste for their music. As a guitarist, though, I still love and respect Slash. He walked in on his mom banging David Bowie once.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Brittany

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Brittany

"Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go"

Wham!

Make It Big, 1984

Not only was this a song from my birth year, but it was actually #1 on the day I was born. Yes, I have done that google thing before and posted this on Facebook or something. This song is so awesome, but honestly, there is currently a commercial out for an automatic starting car or something featuring this song and it fucking drives me nuts. I hope it doesn't ruin the song for me. I guess my next question is... is this song about waking me up before you go? or is someone leaving to Go-go, as in Go Go dance? I also want to comment and say that this song had excellent placement in Zoolander—that gasoline fight was LOL. But I also want to say the movie Last Christmas, featuring all of George Michael's / Wham!'s collection of songs, was a big disappointment.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Joe

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Joe

"Teen Age Riot"

Sonic Youth

Daydream Nation, 1988

There is occasionally a huge fucking gap between when a song is released and when a song is discovered by you, the listener. That will probably be the story for a lot of today's Song Challenge entries, barring the weird possibility that someone is going to pick a random song from their birth year that they aren't now familiar with. That would be unusual, because when we talk about songs from around the time you were born, we're trying to create a connection. We are trying to say that this particular song was important because of the coincidence of its timing. But then also, we can only give it meaning by listening to it much later, when we are no longer infants, when we can absorb music and appreciate what it really means, which requires ears that aren't still clogged with embryonic fluids and a brain that isn't the size of a walnut and just about as useful.

Daydream Nation was released 44 days before I was born, so when the world first heard "Teen Age Riot," I was not yet a teenager. But eventually I became a teenager, and eventually I found kinship with "Teen Age Riot." It felt poignant, back then, in a way that I would not have been able to describe, had you asked me. Even parsing through the lyrics now, I don't really "get" it. Genius.com mostly indicates that this was an ode to Dinosaur Jr., and had no lofty ambitions about being any sort of anthem.

But it ended up being an anthem anyway, to me, a kid who would say things like "kids are going to change the world" out loud, and actually mean it. "Teen Age Riot" was an anthem that spoke to that fiery spirit, but only because I wanted it to, not because it was intended to work that way. That's okay. The audience has a right to impose meaning on art as it sees fit, and this was my doing: "Teen Age Riot" was the sound of my youth as I knew it in the moment I was living it, even if I only knew it subconsciously.

We get cynical as we age, and I think that's okay to a certain degree. It's been 5286 days since I was a teenager, and so it's been a long time since I felt like "Teen Age Riot" meant something than just being a really good song. Though maybe now it's taken on an additional meaning, that of the nostalgic kind, so that when I hear the song, I'm transported back in time to when I was young and I felt alive and I could feel deep within me that there was hope for this planet, and that kids like me were capable of effecting real change. Feels good to feel that fire again, at least for seven minutes at a time.

This song was around when I was born but didn't really find its way to me for at least fifteen years or so. That alone gives me faith that it will still be here for me no matter how old and gray I get, and no matter how drastically its meaning changes for me.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Mandy

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Mandy

"Pictures of You"

The Cure

Disintegration, 1989

1989 was certainly not a year to be taken lightly. Besides my birth, it was also a year of many incredible albums: Pretty Hate Machine by NIN, Paul's Boutique by Beastie Boys, and mother fucking Doolittle by the Pixies. This list actually goes on and on, and it's no surprise that Taylor Swift would eventually name one of her albums after this iconic musical birth year (more on my Swiftie love later in this series).

But I gotta keep it classic, and pick "Pictures of You" by the Cure as the song from my birth year. Sure, it wasn't released until 1990, but it is a hallmark song of the the Cure's Disintegration, which lives in infamy with the other albums mentioned here.

"Pictures of You" sticks to your ribs. It stands as a foil to Disintegration's other love song, "Lovesong," because in this one, Robert Smith doesn't have the girl yet and he's living in pictures only. "Pictures of You" clocks in at almost eight minutes, but never feels like it. If you've spent nights awake, churning and longing for something you can't have, then you understand why this song stands out, even amongst the dynamos of 1989.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Walter

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Walter

"I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"

U2

The Joshua Tree, 1987

This is a great prompt because I love the '80s. I could have rick-rolled you, but there are so many other hits to mention. Anyway, 1987 goes to U2 and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" for it's great up beat riff and the buttery solo in the middle that just makes me wiggle like I'm at jam-band concert. I feel like U2 has that little bit of jam-band vibe to them, but still is pretty commercialized (even through philanthropy). Anyway, I started seeking in this earthy atmosphere on December 4, 1987, and I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Galia

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Galia

"Wannabe"

Spice Girls

Spice, 1996

I had to look this one up. Many good ones from the year of... (I'm about to show that I'm the baby of PoYB)...1997. I decided that I will pick the song that has remained a prominent classic in my life. The winner is: "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. This song NEVER gets old!

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Pat

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Pat

"Good Vibrations"

Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch ft. Loleatta Holloway

Music for the People, 1991

Can you believe there was a time when Donnie was far and away the most famous Wahlberg? I went back and looked at contemporary reviews of this song (ed: skimmed the Wikipedia page while taking a dump) and a surprising number of them refer to Mark as "Donnie's little brother." Of course, at the time Donnie was a founding member of New Kids on the Block, while Mark was just another muscular delinquent hellbent on keeping Boston unbearable. Now, I mainly remember Donnie as the lead in Saw II, while his little brother has gone on to become a resoundingly successful producer/entrepreneur, a two-time Oscar nominee, and an increasingly unhinged tradcath weirdo. I look forward to Marky's 2028 congressional campaign, when he proposes that women seeking abortions should be required to watch Father Stu and way too many people agree with him.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Sam

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Sam

"Battered Old Bird"

Elvis Costello and the Attractions

Blood & Chocolate, 1986

I appreciate this specific assignment, as it taught me something on one of my favorite (physical) records I own. Costello always seems so much older than he is. I would have sworn this record was ten years older. I don't have much affinity for the tones and theme of 1980s rock music. The thoughtfulness and simplicity of this ballad to an old dude is devoid from many albums in my birth year. I'm happy to know Napoleon Dynamite was still fighting that good fight when I joined this race.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Fisher

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Fisher

"Hip to Be Square"

Huey Lewis and the News

Fore!, 1986

I picked this song because of the movie American Psycho and that reason alone. If you haven't seen the film, do so. And do so now. I don't know that I could enjoy this song without its filmic anchor lodged in my brain. It's an iconic scene involving the death of a character as played by a well known Hollywood douchebag. Christian Bale spoke far more eloquently in the film about this song than I ever could. YouTube it at the very least.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Bob

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Bob

"Holy Wars... The Punishment Due"

Megadeth

Rust in Peace, 1990

I saw Megadeth live a few months ago, and my first thought was the lead singer doesn't move and shows no excitement. Halfway through the set, I found out that he battled throat cancer in 2019, which gave me a huge appreciation for what he is accomplishing. He still sounded great and the band absolutely shredded it. Long live Dave Mustaine.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Nate

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Nate

"Bonzo Goes to Bitburg"

Ramones

Animal Boy, 1986

The stool caught me as I collapsed after round one. I looked across the ring at Nicky, who barely looked like he'd gotten his heart rate up while he swung on my ribs, my stomach, my hips. I felt like I was going to break in half. I felt like a kicked dog, confronted with an incomprehensible pain at the hands of something much stronger, infinitely strong. He hadn't even tried to establish his jabs, because he knew he didn't have to. I was too slow, too glacially slow, to do more than absorb what he threw at me. I looked over at Peaquad, who had his back to the ring, calling out to some other younger fighters working through drills. He wasn't watching because he didn't need to see. No help was coming. Nicky sneered across the ring at me, bouncing on his toes. I stood in slow, angular movements. Why did I get up? Why have I ever?

We went four more rounds. All the soft tissue between my waist and my chest felt like one single pulsating, nauseous ache. It's normal for people training around the ring to watch a sparring session when it's especially intense or especially brutal, but when someone gets run over the way Nicky ran me over, people usually do what they can to act like it isn't happening. That mirage of ignorance weighed on me as I understood, in my swollen, bruised core, that an entire gym watched me get taken apart. Thinking about it now, I wonder why this happened to me. Why Peaquad thought this was worth Nicky's time. What I had done to be chosen for this fight. Why did I have to stand in front of this particular sociopath and have my lunch eaten? Nicky didn't look like he'd had a workout. He looked angry, like he wanted to go another 10 rounds, like he wanted to take his gloves off and drive his thumbs into my skull, like he wanted to hit me across the face with a 2x4, like he wanted to rip a knife through my chest. Whatever he learned in this fight, it wasn't going to help him against the prep school fuckers of Northern Ohio.

Peaquad required that all fighters touch gloves after sessions, in a nod toward something approaching the gentlemanly pugilistic nature of boxing's origins. Nicky strutted to the middle of the ring and punched my fists before bouncing out without saying a word. Peaquad patted the back of his head and sent him to run laps so he could get the workout I had failed to provide. I went into the locker room and threw up into the toilet with my gloves still on. I am ashamed to remember how ashamed I was. Even now recalling it, I can feel that smallness creeping back in, as if this was somehow my failing. I hate that it blossomed in me then, I hate that it's budding in me now.

Nicky came into the locker room a while later. He got dressed without looking at me, spry and eager to leave, while I sat in front of my open locker, half naked and purple. I looked like a worm, like a thumb. Before he left, he turned and looked at me like I was a question.

"You didn't show anything."

Fuck off, Nicky, you fucking prick.

"Yeah, no kidding."

"No. I mean, I hit you hard."

"Nicky, what the fuck? I was there, I know."

"I mean, I hit you hard. I hit you as hard as I could. I know it hurt you. But you didn't show it. I couldn't see it in your face. What's that about, you a fucking freak or something?"

He turned and walked out of the locker room and got up to piss blood.

Nicky remained an asshole for as long as I knew him, and he remained the kind of guy who took glee in hurting other people, but he and I never fought again. We barely spoke after that, which was a minor miracle as far as I was concerned. Two years after that sparring session, I separated my shoulder and walked away from boxing. The doctor prescribed me some Vicodin and Nicky offered me $500 for my prescription, which I sold to him without thinking. About 18 months after that, Nicky died in a head-on collision, driving the wrong way on the freeway after midnight. He had a 16-year-old girl in the car with him, and an infant son at home. Rumor was he was gone on pills when he left the bar, that he had in fact gotten kicked out after getting caught snorting some off the urinal. I never bothered to check on that because some things are true regardless of how they happen.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Maeve

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Maeve

"Love Shack"

The B-52s

Cosmic Thing, 1989

1989 is a faaaascinating year for music. But what's even more fascinating is that "Love Shack" is from that year and not the '60s, which is what I'd always assumed. No rhyme or reason, but it just feels fun, silly and dated. You know what "Love Shack" is? A perfect karaoke song: everyone knows it, you get to do silly little voices, it's easily danceable, and you can really command the stage.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Pam

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Pam

"The Sweetest Taboo"

Sade

Promise, 1985

Man, Sade is the coolest. Her smooth voice exudes effortless seduction. I'm honestly surprised at myself for not having ever picked a Sade album to explore for Record Club. This song is also not your "typical" 1985 song, or what I would immediately think of as having that quintessential '80s sound. But as soon as you hear it, you know it's Sade.

Summer Song Challenge, Day 2: Lamson

Prompt: "A song from your birth year"

Selected by Lamson

"Poison"

Bell Biv DeVoe

Poison, 1990

A little embarrassing but I couldn't think of a single song just by using my noggin. I had to go to google and search for "popular songs from 1990." Thankfully, there were a few I recognized to choose from, including "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice, "Can I Kick It" by A Tribe Called Quest, but ultimately I went with "Poison" by Bel Biv DeVoe. Honestly, I did not know that was the artist. It's just one of those songs you know the song and never really looked too much further into it. But that's my pick. POISON!

Never Seen It, #106 of 200: Mission Impossible

Your mission: 200 movies that I've never seen before. This blog will self-destruct in five seconds.

Mission Impossible

1996

Brian De Palma

Welcome back Fisher to Never Seen It. Over the past week or so, we've volleyed some emails back and forth about the 1996 populist thriller Mission Impossible. Around the last time we spoke, the email conversations for this film column were more free form. Starting with Frank and Lawrence of Arabia, I tried to impose a structure of strictly sending questions back and forth. But for Mission Impossible, I combined the two formats. There was still a conversational structure, but with the rule that every email had to end with a single question. Let's see how it worked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joe: Shit, man, this was a really fun movie. I could definitely see how it would appeal to a younger audience, since it forefronts the fun action sequences. I think you could definitely make the case that the plot is a bit convoluted, but maybe the plot isn't necessarily the most important thing here? The important part is the thrills.

Along those same lines, I was impressed how the movie just kind of threw you into this world with very little explanation as to what the fuck was going on. It was almost in media res, how the first thing we see is a mission that the team is completing.

As a rule, I don't look up anything about the movie before I watch it, and also I'm a dumbass, so I didn't know that this movie was a sequel of sorts to a TV series from the '60s (and one from the '80s). It even features one of the same characters, and it's a continuation of the premise of the TV series. So my question is this. Do you feel like it is a good thing or a bad thing that the film provides very little context at the start of the film? Would more overt connections to the TV show have been worth making, or is it more honest to trust the audience, that they'll be able to catch on quickly?


Fisher: I say good thing. It shows respect for the audience's intelligence. They pretty much all saw the trailer by that point. The big helicopter explosion / train bit was featured so they know what they came to get. And I really think it's an efficient way to acclimate the viewer to the world. We all understand the theory of the "spy world" by this point, we don't need a Star Wars-style scroll of text to clue us in. Just dump us right into the action. Ooooh yeah, it's a really great method to establish how kinetic this movie is going to be.

I don't think more overt connections would have been worth making because the previous source material isn't very relevant. And it would be wasting time and resources to create references that only a small percentage of the audience would appreciate. All they needed to keep is, "This tape will self-destruct in five seconds." That's just a great, signature device that plays well over the entire series of films.

Question for you: as we agree the plot is a bit convoluted, did you comprehend it fully by the end? Did you see the twist coming? Would you have added/subtracted anything to help straighten it out?

As I sit here, I'm fine with both. My most recent watch had me dedicated to studying the plot and the twist. My previous viewings of course made it easier but I didn't sense any "cheating." This (and No Country for Old Men) is at the top of my "I love this right away but give me another four or more tries before I can explain the plot to you."


Joe: Good question. Two things to consider. One, I think there is a lot of gray area between "very straightforward and easy to understand" and "doesn't fucking make any sense whatsoever." I'm okay with finding that middle area, as long as it sort of trends toward the former, and I understand it enough that I can find satisfaction in the getting to the end. Plus, there's always Wikipedia to fill in the blanks afterward. Two, the way we watch movies these days is between 8:30 and 9:45ish, for as many nights as needed (MI needed two). But I start getting tired at 9:15ish. So then usually I have to rewatch the middle 15-30 minutes the next night. And also there's a sleeping baby in the room, so movies with soft dialogue vs. loud explosions require constant volume adjusting. All this to say that if I don't understand a movie, I usually blame myself, and not the movie.

Plus, this is kind of the whole deal with spy films, right? The secrets. It wouldn't be as fun if the double-crossing and subterfuge were described to the audience. There is no room for dramatic irony in this film, since part of the fun is taking this journey with Ethan Hunt (a good, if obvious surname, by the way). Did I get that Jim was the bad guy and that he was "Job"? Not necessarily right away. But I could get there eventually (with Wiki's help), and in the meantime—explosions! Good times!

Q: It's funny how much of this film I already "knew," without ever having seen anything Mission Impossible-related before. The theme song is iconic, for example. The aforementioned "this tape will self-destruct" thing. And even the whole sequence of Tom Cruise being dropped into a room and hacking a computer while hanging from the rope was definitely something I was aware of, and there was a moment that I was "oh shit, that is from this movie?!"

So I want to ask, how important do you think Mission Impossible is, within the general history of film? Can we say that this film is one worthy of, say, being preserved in the Library of Congress? Or is it just a fun movie that touched the zeitgeist around the time I was a preteen and should have theoretically been at the prime age to be into this stuff? Why did I know so much about MI before ever having seen it?

Fisher: This question of its importance fills me with imposter syndrome. But let me be brave and say: Yes. I do think this film is important. I'd submit the simple fact of its longevity as my proof. The series will end with it's eighth entry, and that won't come until nearly 30 years after the start. Library of Congress? Fuck yeah, why not. They can even place it on the shelf in the same iconic way as when he stole the NOC List.

Without looking up other people's words, I suppose this was such a big hit because we hadn't had a great spy hit in a while? Global audience's were thirsty? A Bond dry spell ended only a year earlier with Goldeneye. But now the Americans had a big bold entry, and with America's Sweetheart right at the center.

Yeah I can't quite put all of its magic in a bottle. Unsure why so many people know bits of it without having seen it.

 

Does this movie inspire you to invest another twelve-plus hours into the franchise? (I highly recommend you do. I mean, 2 is trash, Ghost Protocol didn't wow me though I'd revisit, but I love the rest). And what do you think spoke to you the most from a filmmaking perspective? I loved the locations and cinematography.

Joe: It's funny, one of my friends who is into films and is invested in the Never Seen It project in at least a surface-level sort of way told me like a year ago that he thought Mission Impossible 1 sucked ass and that the sequels were way better. I didn't take him seriously at the time, but I wonder now how much truth there is to that. It did amuse me that there were so many movies in the series, and I'm always at least curious about the "mythology" of a movie series when it reaches that many films in the series.

Look, am I going to watch any of the sequels any time soon? No, I'm not. But that doesn't speak to the quality of the first film. It just speaks to the fact that there are only 24 hours in the day, and a list of at least 90 more movies that I'd like to complete sometime before 2025. I also don't have any qualms reading through some of the sequels' descriptions, since I'm curious: are these episodic films (standalone stories), or are they attempting to build one big story spread out over eight films? Let's see...

2 is interesting because the villain is trying to start a pandemic with a deadly virus? I wonder how that holds up in our post-COVID world. I fucking love Thandiwe Newton, cool that she's in that one. III has Phillip Seymour Hoffman as the villain? Holy shit, that alone sells me on the premise. I've heard the phrase "Ghost Protocol" before, but nothing in that film's description stands out. It kind of looks like the next couple movies are one story with a single group of villains (the Syndicate)? And then there are two new ones coming out this year and in 2025. I think MI falls into the category of "I'd watch it if a friend put it on, or forced me to come to the theater with them to see it," because I can imagine all the sequels are really fun and don't necessarily require you to know the full backstory. Correct me if I'm wrong though, and I promise not to skip any.

And I dunno, I was probably most impressed with the stunts. First, for the classic reason: Cruise does his own stunts, which is incredibly stupid and dumb and he's a fucking moron, but at the same time it adds some real stakes the affair. Second, because some of the sillier stunts (a helicopter attached to a train speeding through a tunnel!!!) didn't look nearly as bad as you'd think they would, being almost 30 years old. Third, because they were so over the top, and shot so well and so larger-than-life, that you were guided to treat the movie as a fun action thriller, i.e. less seriously, almost like a cartoon. That's supposed to be a compliment, P.S. Mission Impossible would not have been as good a movie if they tried to make it a serious movie. Think about the fact that Ethan Hunt explodes a huge fish tank with a stick of gum, and then the camera angle is him running away down the street as the water pours down the street after him. That's a little goofy! And really fucking fun!

I wonder how much Tom Cruise has to do with the fun. This isn't really a question, but I'd just really like to read what you have to say about this actor. He's probably been the most seen actor in my movie project so far (at least Eyes Wide Shut, A Few Good Men, and Jerry Maguire), and I just really like his manic energy. He's a good enough actor that it makes it easy to ignore all the crazy shit in his real life. Anyways, how integral is he to this whole Mission Impossible thing? Could there ever be a Tom Cruise movie that isn't all about Tom Cruise?

Fisher: That's a great attitude to have. They're intentionally broad for a wide audience. They've deftly navigated being TOO invested/dependent in an arc(s). But as you touched on, MI5 debuted the Syndicate. Which followed into 6 and then I would suppose this two-part finale. Even then the Syndicate is easy to grasp with fresh eyes.

So good! "Kittridge, you haven't *seen* me very upset." I fucking love Kittridge. After the NOC List is stolen and the office dude is in the background: "So uh... whaddya wanna do with him?" "I want him manning our radar station in Alaska by the end of the day... we'll mail him his clothes."

With research I could pinpoint it but at some point the answers to those questions did change. MI2 was a stinker so the franchise stalled. Stylistically it was a radical departure (1-4 different directors, fourth guy stayed on since). Therefore I suppose you could argue that Tom Cruise wasn't necessary. Good filmmaking was. And good filmmaking has been the story of Mission Impossible ever since.

But to the all-about-Cruise point, over time the answer changed from yes to no. I don't know how early, probably even before we hit age ten. But dude just was Hollywood gold and got that "I make significant BTS contributions or I don't play" status. However, it's usually to the benefit of the audience. And no director is gonna bother to take that on unless: they consciously agree to this situation prior, and Tom has personally vetted them.

And yet I've never heard him spoken of as a Diva. Really everyone on set likes him. Granted people aren't prone to talking shit publicly, but his public word is well over the standard "great guy." Edge of Tomorrow footage shows him racing the cast and extras to the starting mark after the end of a take. "All right, guys, I'm (50-odd) years old you're gonna let me win?" Constructive hustling. Team-building exercises that simultaneously maximize production. What a boon. A tangible intangible.

Question: I love your point about the scope of the action. This franchise finds real world things and dials it up to 10.7, not a full 11. I only added the "full 11" bit because I hated the look of the period book-ending the 7.

Actual question: Do you think you could textualize your thoughts on your breaking point for good silly fun vs. a bridge too far?

Joe: Sure. Just wanna make sure you and everyone else reading this knows that I am definitely talking out of my ass 90% of the time when I'm talking about movies, so this isn't me presenting myself as an "expert" or anything. Just a fucking dude with a blog.

I think when you're working with "good silly fun," the underlying requirement is that the film has to be specifically designed to be that way, and it has to do it well. To me, Mission Impossible is that thing. It was designed to be an action spy thriller with intrigue and explosions. That is its purpose, and it achieves its purpose in its allotted time frame. MI promises fun, and it delivers fun. It has no ambitions to be an artsy film or a drama that asks its audience to take it seriously.

There's probably a need to clarify this because there are movies that do in fact ask you to take it seriously, and fails to get its audience to do so, and then there's that excuse afterward of "well that's okay, it was just a fun movie!" I'm just looking at the Never Seen It list for examples. Close to MI on the list is Loser, the Jason Biggs vehicle that spawned the Wheatus song. There's a movie that asked its audience to take it seriously. It's a bad romantic comedy, basically. Yes, there are laughs, and yes, you could say "but it was still fun at the end of the day!" and be technically correct. But that's not what the film is asking of you. It's asking you to laugh and to cry. And it fails in regards to the latter.

Or like Gremlins, which asks you to consider it a horror film. It has remained in the public consciousness because it's not that, it's actually a goofy kids film with absurdist elements, but the movie is not designed to be "just good ol' fashioned fun." It ends up being silly fun despite what the intentions were, and I think that's the line drawn in the sand.

I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm settled on everything that I just wrote. Maybe the answer is that it just comes from the gut, that you can just naturally tell the difference between silly/fun and silly/dumb. Or maybe there is no line, and I'm just working overtime to justify the fact that I liked Mission Impossible.

I did like it, though, and that leads into my final question: How much do you like it? Give me your opinion on a scale from 0 to 5, and justify your score. I think I would give it a solid 3.5 pukes out of 5, since it lacked a certain profundity that the best films possess, but nevertheless was a really fun watch, and worth checking out (for all those who haven't seen it yet). How about you?

Fisher: I will be so bold as to say 4.5 pukes. I was sold on 4 but then I allowed a grand indulgence in the nostalgia factor.

The plot does make sense if a little dense. Of course it may be all a matter of my own density. The cinematography is excellent. The opening botch-job really is gorgeous to see. Color and locale and lighting. Just grand. DePalma is a master craftsman and he puts a lot his knowledge on display.

I've heard this said once and it never left my head: "A great movie is a collection of great scenes." This movie embodies that so well. Tom Cruise is flawless, Jean Reno is flawless, Kittridge guy, the ruthless dowager-type lady badguy who wants to fuck Ethan Hunt sooooo badly. It's all just great and well-made fun. Eat your popcorn and be happy when the bad guys explode to death. So good.

And it holds a particular spot in the hearts of me and the sibs. I've pitched them on the sequels some point this year for sure. A movie you've grown up with that never turns on you as your perceptions shift is a beautiful thing. Mission Impossible is a beautiful thing.