Six Feet Under
Grinding The Corn

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Once Upon A Time In Mexico

"Okay, you know something, Norbert? I need money." So says a doddering overweight thirtysomething gentleman who went to the prom with his cousin and has a tendency to dangerously overuse the letters "IRL." He pads around a cluttered apartment that the set decorators found a template for in an old file marked "Bomber, Una" that features scattered papers, books about how pick up loose women, and lots of those make-them-yourself plain white boxes from Staples designed for the storage of papers, books, and, in this gentleman's case, I'm guessing, at least one human head. Okay. Maybe just a doll head. But does that make it any less weird?

We pan around the place to note the presence of old computer equipment -- maybe this portly gentleman is just upset because he has finally obtained a warrant to arrest Nick Brunch and can't afford to buy a plane ticket to Oslo -- and past that a series of age-appropriate (for a five-year-old) figurines of the comic-book variety. Though there's another word I learned in my childhood to describe toys such as those, and the word sticks in my mind because I wasn't allowed to play with them, even though I'm sure I asked. And that word is "dolls."

As we continue our episode of Cribs: Unabomber, we swing past some vintage-looking videotapes and an open box of Alpha-Bits, which are delicious and educational. Comic Book Guy speaks into a cordless phone no doubt modeled on early wireless communication used aboard the Enterprise, telling Norbert, "My rent is three weeks overdue and you're not helping." Norbert suggests that his fat, nameless, near-death friend "sell something," and I can only hope he's suggesting something akin to the totally awesome Radioactive Man design he made on his Lite-Brite and not anything to do with his sperm, blood, clothing, or plasma, because if the rest of the human gene pool is sullied with the intimate matter of this man, the aliens have already won. And that's precisely the excuse he gives to his parents whenever they ask him why he doesn't have a girlfriend. In response to Norbert's suggestion, Comic Book Guy crassly shoots back, "How about you just loan me some cashola from your trust fund instead?" Oh. A mooch. Who makes other people feel guilty about the fact that they have money. Who uses words like "cashola." The mortal coil is really gonna miss this guy.

Norbert won't have any of it. He realizes that if you give a man Fish Boy, Lost Prince of Atlantis, you feed him for a day, but if you teach a man Fish Boy, Lost Prince of Atlantis, you feed him for a lifetime. So he suggests, "You could sell me your entire Justice League Of America Versus The Aliens series. A guy on Ebay sold one last week for $500." eBay jokes? That's very "dork culture 1997" of them. Everyone uses eBay now. I saw it in the commercials where delightfully suburban white people sing to the tunes of classics from the '50s through '70s.

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Six Feet Under




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