I thought we might start out this week with a brief discussion on REASONS TO LIVE ON CAPE COD IN THE WINTER, as I assume there must be some, I know there have to be some, but they were not coming to me as quickly as I hoped and in fact this is now my second day trying to find some, which I will helpfully list for you now (very slightly below.)
The police won’t let you live anywhere else.
Insatiable desire to be where the action was.
Too poor to live here in the summer.
Too sensible to live here in the summer. (You can make your own ones up of these, just start with “too” and then stick in any old word and then end up with “to live here in the summer.” Go on, it’s fun! Try it.)
The fascinating word games they have here.
To see if living here this winter could possibly be as bad as living here was last winter.
More and more bars with free movies.
You get to meet all those lovable inbred local eccentrics whose relatives lock them in their basements on Memorial Day so they won’t bring down property values. (My family locked me and my siamese twin brothers Martin and Morten in our basement right through our teenage years, and the room acquired a fragrance that was a bit unsettling, yet somehow totally beguiling.) (By the way, my other half, the startlingly lovely yet kinda strict Mrs. Kelp, still threatens me with that in the springtime when I’m starting to frisk about too much.)
Great for people who want to desperately unravel.
Women more approachable than usual (or at least you’d think they would be.)
It’s cheaper than Tahiti, and much nearer to the world centres such as Worcester and Taunton.
Bridge too scary.
Good spot for folks who hate everywhere else.
But really, when it all comes down to it, it’s because of its utter fabulousness, because the people are so kooky and OUTRAGEOUS, the livin’ is easy, the fish are jumpin’, and because it seems so much more light and airy now that we got rid of all those stupid trees.
No, really, it’s the little things, those tiny things that happen every day, or don’t, that make you feel like you really, really live somewhere kind of special, or not. Like the sound of yourself stepping briskly into a big ass babbling goldang brook where your driveway used to be. Like the cozy, thrilling knowledge that you didn’t give it your all, but you appeared to. Like wet socks at work. These are the glory days!
Because it is winter on Cape Cod, I occasionally will pass along news of exciting developments in the video rental field, and this week I have particularly fine news: next Tuesday, “The Aristocrats” is being released on DVD, “The Aristocrats”, being one of the funniest movies I’ve seen in years. Basically, it’s a collection of different comedians’ takes on a classic joke that gets grosser and grosser until it truly reaches the great beyond. It’s the filthiest, vilist thing I’ve ever seen, roughly the equivalent filth-wise of probably about a solid year in the van with the Spampinato-era Incredible Casuals (don’t know why I’d think of them, or him, in particular -I’m sure a lot of other musicians are disgusting, too.)
This is not an idea that should work (or at least that was my reaction on first hearing the premise, prior to seeing the film.) But the filth and simple malevolence of the many genius minds at work here (including George Carlin, Sarah Silverman, Lewis Black, Joe Franklyn (!!), Gilbert Gottfried, Penn & Teller, and scores of others, including a revelatory segment from Bob Saget, of all people, doing perhaps the filthiest version yet and dying laughing in the process) puts it over big-time. It sounds dumb, but it actually cuts a little deeper than you’d think somehow, and at the end there’s a feeling of elation at the sheer scope of the depravity.
A word of caution: don’t know what they’ll have on this for extra footage, but start with the theatrical edit if you can. I made the mistake of watching the expanded “uncorked” edition of “The Wedding Crashers” last week instead of the regular version, and it was very long and pretty terrible, which I hadn’t expected -the theatrical version couldn’t’ve been that bad. Again, the harsh reality -why do you think they call them “deleted scenes”?