So the sight of a clunky old typewriter in a pawn shop inspires this woman to become a writer? Is it safe to assume that if this commercial took place in the 1970s, she'd be starting her "writing career*" by purchasing a number of quill pens and jars of ink?
How long does she think that typewriter is going to last before it needs a new ribbon- and where is she going to find that? How long is the charm of a noisy, user-unfriendly, heavy chunk of metal with keys that jam every few sentences and a very lame back-erase feature (and another tape that has to be replaced) going to hold up? How long before this woman remembers that it's 2025 and we've got light laptops and printers now? How long before she realizes that the stupid typewriter might as well have a disclaimer that reads TALENT NOT INCLUDED? How long before she realizes that if she wants anyone to actually read her travel journal (instead of the four million travel journals already available on YouTube, Tiktok ,etc.) she's going to have to digitize it anyway, making the whole tappa tappa tappa typing thing just a stupid, pretentious extra step that would impress absolutely nobody even if they were told about it?
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go my neighborhood pawn shop (I live in suburban Maryland. There are at least five pawn shops within a five-minute drive) and pick up a guitar so I can start my career as a rock star. Because that's how that works.
*I believe it was a Woody Allen character who critiqued the work of a wannabee novelist by remarking "that's not writing, that's typing." Whoever did say this, he was exactly right; battering away on a typewriter doesn't make one a writer any more than traveling to other countries makes one interesting. Try harder, lady.
Obsession(n): an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on one's mind.
This, to Verizon Fios, is a GOOD thing. And Verizon has got you covered, whatever your "obsession," as long as that Obsession involves being immobile on the couch staring at a glowing box and getting no fresh air or exercise or engaging in any actual social activity whatsoever.
As near as I can tell, what we're seeing is four or five Adults of Diversity playing a board game on a table decorated with rapidly-cooling junk food someone brought in (Uber Eats?) from Burger King. I guess at some point, the black woman has a temporary victory which causes her to go into a little dance, but it's only a temporary victory because at the end we see Not Bryce Howard being crowned with a greasy piece of cardboard so I guess she actually won the game- and meanwhile, that food hasn't been touched at all. Which means it's cold. Cold food from Burger King; if this is "ruling," I'll continue to refuse to participate in this political system, thanks anyway.
Seriously, though. Why is that food even there? Nobody really seems interested in consuming any of it. At the end, at least pop the junk into the microwave. I mean, yuck.
Can we agree that "Land Cruiser" is the most pretentious name Toyota could possibly have invented to label this more recent version of Gas-Guzzling, Parking-Space Straddling, Bank Account-draining Suburban Grocery Hauler?
I'll give Toyota a little credit for truth in advertising, at least- "Land Cruiser" suggests that this thing is basically a passenger ship that glides over pavement* instead of water. It's not a car, it's not a truck, it's a freaking Boat. It doesn't roll, it Cruises. It's massive. We get it, Toyota. And yet, we don't get it at all. Why IS this even a thing?
*We all know that not one person in a thousand who purchases one of these land-dwelling dirigibles is actually going to get it dirty with intent. These things are going to be used to bring kids to soccer practice on Saturday and everything else home from Costco on Sunday. Give me a break.
This one really brings me back to those special occasions in which I would receive an invitation from my mom and dad to grace them with my presence at dinner. I'd get dressed up, call a taxi, and head off to the spot designated on the invite at the specified time, all the while wondering what special event was being celebrated to rate such an event.
In the middle of dinner, mom or dad would make the announcement- usually it involved deciding to change paper towel providers, or getting the car washed, or some other once-in-a-lifetime moment that could only be marked properly with a sit-down meal at a restaurant. Sometimes the event was tied to the place we were celebrating at- I remember being summoned to the local McDonald's, 6 PM sharp Tuesday Next, to mark the temporary return of the McRib. And the time we were called to dine at Applebee's to toast the $10 coupon dad got for Applebee's. Magic Moments.
So I can definitely relate to this ad; it's a real slice of my own life. I don't get what this kid is saying about "making varsity" or some such, but it's certainly uncouth of him for trying to step on the designated Reason for the Meal- the availability of rubber low-grade beef and microwaved fish-flavored bread crumbs. What's his deal, anyway?
So in what I have to assume is a desperate attempt to get customers to pay good money for grade-B quality garbage, Golden Corral now allows you to fill up a plate and bring it home so that you can continue to punish your digestive system and heart at your convenience later on.
That being said, I have two things to add about the exchange between the mom and kid in this commercial:
1. It's bad enough that you are modeling the idea that eating at this pig trough is a good idea, stupid mom. At least have some level of economic acumen and don't encourage your kid to use the one plate he's got for broccoli. As cheap as those frozen butterfly shrimp and that "steak" is, they are still more valuable than that green weed. Let the kid go for the protein, such as it is.
2. Never in the history of Anything has a kid been this excited at the prospect of eating leftovers. The only way this makes sense is if the kid is expressing relief at having his order be take-out and being spared the experience of actually sitting in one of these "restaurants" (which, I promise, look nothing like the brightly-lit, spacious, clean sets we see in these ads.) As bad as that stuff must take when it's freshly microwaved, I don't want to think about what shoe leather it turns into once it starts to cool down. Hard Pass.
First let me say at the very outset that I did enjoy this film; I thought that the acting, with one or two glaring exceptions, was superb and the story was both important and well-told. The last thing I want to do is throw any shade on attempts to tell tough stories about the reality of the modern economy. Forty years ago, "Roger and Me" really opened my eyes to the reasons and consequences for the collapse of the middle class. "99 Homes" I think attempts to do much the same thing- and, as I said, I did enjoy this film- but also fails on a number of levels.
First- the ethos of the film seems to be that if you are already in a home and you are earnest in your belief that the house belongs to you, missing mortgage payments simply should not matter. If a bank requires a homeowner to live up to his contract, that bank is Evil and Wrong, especially if the homeowner has a wife and kids or is a senior citizen. In short, home ownership is a Sacred Right. I wonder if the writer of this film has the same grace toward renters who don't pay their rent- can we be evicted if we fail to pay? What if we have children? Is the right to renege on a contract exclusive to people who buy property?
Second- Laura Dern's character is just infuriating throughout the whole film. She lives with her son and grandson and "runs a business" (is a hairdresser) out of the home. She worries about money when they are forced to move into a motel but makes no effort to get an actual job that would pay a regular salary, being perfectly comfortable to put the entire burden on her son. Then she rages at her son for taking a job foreclosing homes- a job which will get them out of the motel and back into their home. Then, when he decides to sell the family home to buy a better one, she flies off the handle, insisting that she wants "their" home back and will not live in the new house.
Um, the old family home is not yours, lady. Your son bought it. He can sell it if he wants. What is the matter with you? Why are you acting as if you have a say in this? But it gets worse- she decides to take her GRANDSON away with her rather than live in the beautiful new house. Um, excuse me? How does she have the right to do this? Isn't this kidnapping? THAT IS NOT YOUR SON, LADY. If you "can't" live in the new house, there's the door. But you don't take the boy with you. What planet are you from, anyway?
Third- with one exception, every single person who faces eviction in this film is a victim of their own choices, yet acts as if they are under attack by "The Economy" and "The Rich" and "The Banks." At one point the "bad" guy points out that one couple failed to make their mortgage payments after taking out a stupid loan to add an extension they didn't need. That improvement could just as easily have been a swimming pool or a Disney vacation- it was a decision to borrow money which must now be repaid, but we are told to be angry at the creditors. The one exception is the guy at the end who keeps his house because of a technicality (an unfiled legal form) and not because he actually paid his mortgage. Warms the heart, it does.
I don't know- maybe I'm just getting cold-blooded in my old age, but my empathy meter didn't move much during this film (except for the widowed old guy who got scammed by a reverse mortgage; I felt bad for him.) Maybe it's because I've rented my entire adult life and even during the great housing fire sale of 2008 I didn't take the jump and tie myself down to 30 years of payments I was not sure I could make. Am I really supposed to have sympathy for people who have lived in appreciating assets during the same time but for some reason failed to make their payments? Because I don't. Someone explain to me why I should.
Michael Shannon is not a villain in this film, Andrew Garfield is not a villain in this film, and Laura Dern is not a heroine in this film (she's just a screechy anchor around her son's neck. And a kidnapper.) Ok, I'm done.
