Children's Movies Are Way Different Now That My Brain Is Fully Formed

So you're a bit melancholy and one of your favorite childhood movies is on TV. SCORE. There is nothing more comforting than watching something that was last seen through eyes that lacked responsibility, reason, and bladder control. You snuggle up with a stuffed animal and other cozy things like tea and fire and get ready to tingle from head to toe with nostalgia. But wait...what's this? Your favorite childhood movie is about...no it can't be...NAZIS? RIDICULOUSLY SEXY MEN? CAPITALISM? THE SUFFRAGETTES?

I'm talking about The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. If you haven't taken a history class yet, please turn back now and enjoy your ignorant youth while you can. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, let's move on. If children were rats (I've heard a lot of good points supporting this theory), Julie Andrews would be the pied piper. I was drawn to her voice like a moth to the flame (or a rat to the pipe, I guess?). Either way, I could not get enough of Maria or Mary, the creative singing babysitters. It's truly a shame that Julie Andrews blew up her voice with it's own awesomeness and can no longer serenade the world like old times. Her failed vocal surgery and subsequent limited-octave range undoubtedly caused most, if not all, of the natural disasters since 1997, but I digress (What else is new?).

Let's start with the Sound of Music, shall we? News flash: it wasn't just about children and singing and hills being filled with things. This movie revolved around the motherfucking Nazi invasion of Austria. Rolfe, Mr. "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" (Mr. Seventeen, for short), was a fucking Nazi tattletale douchebag. The wonderful concert held at the end? Do yourself a favor and rewatch that scene (I tried to find it on YouTube

I'm too sexy for World War 2.

for you but Julie Andrews hates sharing). Every member of the Von Trapp family is singing with sheer terror in their hearts to an audience of Führer-lovers. This is because they are all being held against their will and are desperately seeking a way out that ends in Captain Von Trapp maybe not becoming Captain Von Naziface. I guess he was so awesome in other wars as a captain that the the Nazi's wanted to recruit him? I don't know. It's not really clear. However, what is clear is how fucking FINE Captain Von Trapp is. My young mind never grasped this and thought he was just super mean and treated his children like dogs (which he does, but perhaps that can all be chalked up to PTSD and crippling loneliness). Also, raising six rats kids on your own has got to be a Goosebumps book or something. I would probably start using whistles and scare tactics to keep them in line too. Either way, I'd hit it like the fist of God.

Moving on, there's quite a lot of drama surrounding tuppence in Mary Poppins. Should it feed the birds? Should it be invested in a bank run by Dick Van Dyke in bad makeup? Obviously not the latter because the bank is a terrifying place filled with old, grouchy men and misery. These aforementioned grouchballs try to physically pry the tuppence out of young Michael's hand. I repeat: the bankers physically assault a child in order to make a profit. I translate: the bankers care only about financial gain and very little about the welfare of human beings. Sound familiar? I bet it does.

Not only that, the movie starts off with a wonderful song about the womens' rights movement. Have a listen:

I'm a soldier in a petticoat too, Mrs. Banks. But seriously, how fucking fierce is this bitch? I had no idea what this was even about when I was younger, let alone that there was a point in history where women weren't allowed to vote. Kudos, Mary Poppins, for being relevant to my interests regardless of what they are (dancing with exceedingly floppy cartoon penguins, disproportionate greed in the higher economic brackets, etc.) and no matter how old I am (I'm still interested in those penguins...).

This brings me to my final point, explain to your kids what is going on in these movies. Maybe times have changed and now that all children's movies are about riding adorable dragons and goofy talking Owen Wilsons cars, there really isn't any historical and political context for kids today to learn something from. HOWEVER, if you're plopping them down in front of a Julie Andrews' movie circa the mid-60s (and plenty other movies/time periods, I'm sure), then you owe it to them to be honest and upfront. If you leave it for them to discover on their own, you run the risk of raising a socially-unaware child who is furious with you in twenty years when they figure everything out themselves. I just wish I had someone to tell me how hot Captain Von Trapp was when I was seven.

What "The Human Centipede" And My High School Choir Have In Common

Mom, if you're reading this, please turn back now.


There, I feel better now that I have that maternal disclaimer up there. I don't think I could stand to look her in the eyes after I wrote a post that references The Human Centipede. When I went to IMDB to get the link for that last sentence, I noticed the actual title is "The Human Centipede (First Sequence)." Will there be a second sequence in our future? Since Harry Potter has now officially reached its end, I guess I do need a new movie series to follow (I kid).

"The Human Centipede" centers around a creepy douchebag whose main goal in life is to haphazardly sew women together in order to make a working centipede out of them. In the movie, which I have yet to see (the one star rating on Netflix isn't really swaying me either), he somehow captures three women and is able to make his centipede-y dreams come true. Don't ask me how he is able to successfully kidnap three women at once but hey, the female gender is just that helpless, amirite? EDIT: three people. There was a dude involved in the ass-to-mouth fun. In order to create THC (not referring to home-brewed weed here), he sews one woman's open mouth to the other's butthole and has them kneel on their hands and knees in a single-file line. Thus, with each meal the first lady centipede link consumes, she poops it into the lady link behind her's mouth, and so on down the line. Forever. Charming, right?

Upon hearing this description, it's natural to feel an intense wave of revulsion and anxiety. Go on, take your time to say "blehhhhhhh" aloud if you haven't already.

Now that that's taken care of, I'd like to state that I don't think being the Human Centipede would be all that bad. Before you freak out and judge my personal life, let me clarify: I don't think being the first in line in THC would be all that bad. Yea, I said it. Granted, I wouldn't choose to poop into some girl who was sewn to my butthole if I had the option, BUT, if I was forced into a THC-y situation, you best believe I'd volunteer myself to be the head car. If you ask me, that's the best seat in the centipede house.

Like this, except not at the Sears portrait studio.
Picture me as the little boy in front: soaking up all the
pleasure without giving a single fuck.

At this point you're probably asking yourself, "But Taylor, what does this have to do with your high school choir?" The answer? Massage trains. Each day, before we started warming up our vocal cords, our instructor thought it would be beneficial for us to warm up our bodies. Since we were in rows, we would start by turning to the person to our right and massaging their neck and shoulders. Then, we would turn the opposite way and massage the person to our left. This was to ensure that everyone both received and gave a massage at some point. If we didn't change direction, there would be someone in the front who was getting the wonderful pleasure of a tension-reducing massage without having to do any massaging themselves. This, my loyal readers, is the philosophy behind choosing to be the first centipede link. However, instead of giving the person behind me a mouthful of human shit, I was receiving a wonderful massage from a 16 year old peer.

So, if you're ever kidnapped with two of your besties and told that you're going to be sewn ass-to-mouth-to-ass-to-mouth, don't freak out. If you remember what you learned from high school choir massage trains (or girl scout camp massage trains or interpretative dance class massage trains...) and make your way to the front of the line, the future may be that much less like 2 girls 1 cup brighter for you.

Artist Review: Adele

I'm really just making this post because I have absolutely no idea what to write about and just want a platform where I can rave like a banshee about Adele. Before this, I spent about ten minutes trying to write a post combining science and sandwiches, but then I realized that I had no idea what I was talking about and am just really hungry/wanted to include HD pictures of sandwiches in a post. To fulfill the latter desire:

Get in mah bellay!

Now that I've been placated, let's talk about Adele. I have no idea where she came from, but it seems like I blinked my eyes and her complete discography was all over the radio and everyone and their mom knew who she was. Prior to finding the spotlight, Adele was hurt bad. I mean real bad. That, or she is extremely creative and imaginative because almost every song's message is "I love you but ow, my heart" or "You really cut me deep and now I'm going to fuck up your shit." Her voice is like an angel's wet willie and I find myself listening to her albums on repeat. I also find myself singing with her, full blast and pants-less, in my room at 1:00am on a Sunday night (Monday morning?). But that's a different story. Her single, Rolling In The Deep, sounds like Etta James or Tina Turner but BETTER (yea, I said it). I have yet to have a negative reaction to my semi-fascist force-people-to-sit-down-and-listen-to-Adele sessions.

On top of all her mad harmonious skillz, Adele is just an awesome person. She is a curvier lady who does not give a single fuck about the beauty standards of society and the pressure that is put on her in the music industry to look a certain way. Below are some of Adele's most fabulous, body-positive quotes:

FUCK. YES. Reading stuff like this makes me feel incredibly empowered as woman who constantly struggles with loving her body (don't we all?). To stand up and say stuff like this, without shaming the other women who choose to go a different, more provacative, route, takes a lot of cajones and cerebros (that's balls and brains for you non-Spanish speakers [I don't speak Spanish either. I had to ask Sam, which led to me wondering if Spanish zombies moan "Cerebrossssssss..."]). Anyway, now I'm distracted by zombie thoughts and by how many parentheses are in the previous sentence. Punctuation, y u make me sad? Moving forward, Adele is a positive role model for women everywhere to learn to love themselves, respect other women, and do what's right and comfortable for them without judging and putting down others. Behind those angelic wet willies is a woman worth listening to, both with accompaniment and without.

I think that concludes this installment of "Taylor's Unfocused And Grammatically Offensive Tirades," or as you like to call it, "http://majorstranger.blogspot.com/." To sum up everything that's been discussed, here is a picture of Adele eating a sandwich (burgers are sandwiches, right?):