Happy Morris Day

 

Today is Morris Day. Why? Two reasons: 1. Morris Day was born on this day 53 years ago, and 2. Morris Day Day is just plain redundant. My friend Stephan once said, "There's more to [Morris Day and] the Time than oh-wee oh-wee oh." This is the day where we explore the works of Morris Day, "Jungle Love" and beyond. It is a day for us to celebrate Morris Day. So, pop on Purple Rain and remember those killer Morris Day lines ("Your lips would make a lollipop too happy.") and be joyous today.

A wise man once said, "And should we win the day, the Thirteenth of December will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Morris Day!" (Did I get that quote right?)

14 Movies From Which a Justin Tiemeyer Can Be Constructed

(In chronological order)

1. The Care Bears Movie (1985)

Amy now gets annoyed whenever I sing The Care Bears Movie theme song Care-a-Lot by Carole King.

But I keep singing it!

2. The Labyrinth (1986)

My aunt used to baby sit us during the summer sometimes, and the really cool thing about being a teenager at Aunt Sue's house was that she usually had one or two premium movie channels that we did not have. One afternoon, a movie called The Labyrinth came on, a beautiful creation of Jim Henson and David Bowie, completely new to me in the mid-90s, and yet eerily familiar. When it came to the scene of the baby walking on the ceiling, I recognized a scene that I'd seen in dreams for most of my life, that I'd described to my mother on more than one occasion. When mom and dad got home from work and picked us up, I talked to them about this strange feeling, and in quite a Dickensian fashion it was revealed that some months after my brother had been born, making me three-years-old, my father took me to see The Labyrinth. Showing this children's film to his child was an excuse for him to get out of the house and enjoy a film starring one of his favorite musicians, David Bowie. Since my Labyrinth renaissance of the '90s, I've come to enjoy much more of the work of the Thin White Duke and I've gotta say that it's brought my father and me closer.

3. Robin Hood (1973)

 
One of the most told stories of my childhood is that my mom had recorded the Disney animated Robin Hood film from the Disney channel when we had one of those free weekends (back when there was programming on Disney worth paying more for), and that I watched that video until the tape was worn straight through. I bought it again a couple years back, but I have trouble believing that Robin Hood will ever be the same with what I now know about those Crusades that the good king was off on.


4. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze (1991)

 
If you've ever been to a karaoke bar, there's always that one white guy or girl who gets a kind of ironic kick out of doing a token rap song, the grin on his or her face shouting out, "Hey, I'm singing black people music and I'm not a black person." And it's cute, because this karaoke bar is a hole in the wall that only white people go to anyways. These people generally sing either "Baby Got Back" or "Ice Ice Baby." I've always been of the opinion that if you're going to go Vanilla Ice (wipe that smile off your face!) there's a better way to do it: "Ninja Rap." Instead of saying "Yo VIP, let's kick it," for example, I'm much more inclined to say, "Yo, it's the green machine, gonna rock the town without being seen. Have you ever seen a turtle get down?"

5. Wayne's World (1992)

 
Wayne's World is the occasion of the first time I ever really felt cool, like I was a part of something. The kids I went to school with never defined what was cool. The TV shows I watched kind of did. (I mean, come on, I watched the Ninja Turtles and Saved by the Bell - how does that not define cool?) In truth, it was the comedic interchanges between my Uncle Paul and my cousin Angie that first defined cool for me. They were always quoting some funny lines from Airplane or Naked Gun or Caddy Shack, and I would just bask in wonder. Their wit was sharp and fast, and they quoted some of those favorite lines non-stop. I wanted to be like that, and my first opportunity was with Wayne's World, which I saw in the theaters at least three times and continue to watch to this day. This was one of the first, and last, times I ever studied anything in my life, and the object of my study was Wayne's World. The result was magnificent, however: I attribute my relationship to my Uncle Paul to this movie, a man I consider not only one of my best friends of all time but also like a second father, the first person after my nuclear family that I want anyone I care about to meet, 1/2 of my concept of who and what a man ought to be. All I can say about that, and forgive me if I lapse into Mandarin, is: Zang!

6. Jurassic Park (1993)

 
When I was younger I was much better at writing novels. By that I mean that I get more than thirty pages into writing them before giving up on the idea. If I listed the names of some of my early novels, you might get an idea of what one of the most important movies in creating a Justin Tiemeyer was: Prehistoric Park, Cretaceous Park, Prehistoric Park, and Golden Gate Park (about a dinosaur park under the Golden Gate bridge). You guessed it, I was a really big fan of Tron. (PSYCH! I was really into Jurassic Park. DUH!)

7. American Beauty (1999)

 
Lester Burnham (played by Kevin Spacey) strongly prefigures the latter years of my high school experience when he begins to see life as a farce and simply starts treating life as a farce. It seems simple in writing, but in actuality it is radical - it is both incredibly sad and incredibly comedic. A short while later I would have a similar experience. School is aimed toward people who don't care and don't know anything. The woman I was infatuated with at the time had begun dating my best friend. The bottom seemed to have fallen off of reality and my guiding principles were falling apart, something which has happened at least two other times in my life. But like Lester Burnham, I felt a kind of freedom, a kind of second chance at life. I spoke out in classes, half as comedic disruptions, half as well-thought answers and comments on the topic at hand. My popularity began to sky-rocket, getting me elected to the court for two dances (but never king!), and out of that turmoil I found a bigger, stronger version of myself that, despite issues with depression, would turn into a juggernaut of self-confidence. I was an iconoclast and rebel who stuck by Lester Burnham's sarcastic words: "You don't get to tell me what to do ever again." He was speaking to his wife. I was speaking to the world.

8. The Shining (1980)

 
When I first saw The Shining, I encountered Jack Torrence, a father who wore the same kind of clothing as my own father, who had difficulties with alcohol and who ended up attempting to kill his entire family. I have to admit that Stanley Kubrick's presentation was so brilliantly strange, and yet close to home, that I was kind of frightened of my own father for a couple of weeks. The man who my mom had offered as assurance of security when I heard strange noises in the night was now the object of fright, of intense fright, of the killer you live with. I think the difference between my father and Jack Torrence, however, is that my father hasn't attempted to kill us all.

Yet.

9. American Psycho (2000)

I remember the occasion of my first viewing of American Psycho fairly vividly. We had a half day at high school for some reason. I went to the mall with some girls I knew (and made them hold my hand whenever we went into a clothing store). Afterward, Jared and I decided that we were going to see American Psycho up at Studio 28, a theater that was kind of far away but featured the only reel of American Psycho in the area. A girl named Lisa, a girl I would later date for three months, called us up and decided to tag along. I think if Lisa were to describe herself in high school she would probably say that she was sheltered. She once told me that the only reason she knew of any of the songs on Guitar Hero and/or Rock Band was because she dated me. If you know anything about American Psycho, you can see why I find this occasion fairly humorous. She's a sheltered girl from a hardcore Christian Reform family and the first scene we see when we arrive at the theater somewhat late is of a businessman killing a homeless person and his dog. You think that's funny? The two of us ended up watching Requiem for a Dream a couple weeks later in Jared's basement. Lisa is happily married now, which suggests to me that I did not, in fact, break her.

10. Mr T's Be Somebody or Be Somebody's Fool (1984)

  
I couldn't talk about movies without talking about the wildly successful movie night that happened at the Tiemeyer household once a week involving my little brother, all his little friends, and his loser older brother (me). We would watch ridiculous movies from Chuck Norris's Forest Warrior (where he transforms from a bird to a ninja, mid-jump-kick) to Monster in the Closet. But the crowning jewel was Mr. T's Be Somebody or Be Somebody's Fool, a movie Micah found on the free children's and instructional rack at Family Video. After sharing this movie often with one another, we went off into the world and shared it with others. I shared it with my calculus class senior year and it was such a success that it made its way into my Salutatorian's address at my graduation. 

11. Donnie Darko (2001)

I currently own three copies of the film Donnie Darko. The first is a VHS copy of the film that I bought before we witnessed the massive conversion to DVD. The second is a DVD copy of the film that I bought not because I thought VHS was on the way out, but because it included various bonuses. Most people forget that it is precisely bonus features, and not some human drive toward progress, that really sky-rocketed the DVD medium into mass use. The third is a DVD copy of the Director's Cut, possibly the most unique re-presentation of a film I have ever seen, focusing on the science fiction elements that were hinted at in the original, but also including a hilarious featurette on Donnie Darko's biggest fan. I still have use for all three copies, because Donnie Darko is one of the movies I am most inclined to loan out to friends. It is as if watching this movie is understood as a condition for understanding who I am. (For example, who I am is a fan of Tears for Fears, but this was not so until I watched this film, which features "Head Over Heels" and a cover of "Mad World.")

12. Purple Rain (1984)

Eye once tried 2 write a story where Jesus came back n the 1980s n he was essentially Prince, being very much like the Purple One and yet very Jesus at the same time. When eye became blocked on that story, eye decided 2 write a kind of Andy Kaufman story about a writer trying 2 get a story published n which Jesus comes back in the 1980s and is essentially Prince. Then eye just gave up on the whole thing and listened to some of the best music that has ever been made. It was probably the best decision eye could have made.

13. Dawn of the Dead

Last semester I went to see a movie in Fort Worth with a couple friends/colleagues of mine. The movie theater spanned multiple floors, the first consisting of a large parking garage and a couple smaller businesses, and the upper levels of the ticketing counters, the concession stands and the theaters themselves. I remember leaning over to my friend David and admiring with him how defensible this structure would be in the event of a zombie apocalypse. The garage could be armed with explosives and fire traps in the event that we'd need to clear the area and bolt, but this might be better done with ladders and ropes as other tall buildings were within climbing or swinging reach. A gigantic picture window overlooked the square, a picture that at this point in time was dominated by a muddy construction site. Between this and the area overlooking the escalator one could easily snipe zombies. Laughing over the choke points and strategies, I honestly think David and I became better friends.

14. There Will Be Blood (2007)

 
I'm finished.

The New Free Bird

How does Bob Saget play Purple Rain?
Justin Tiemeyer tells him to. That's how.

There is a measurable difference in awesomeness between me and your normal concert-goer. For example, I don't even think about leaving a concert until they raise the house lights and play somebody else's music on the house speakers. I don't get fooled by that whole "Thank you, good night!" charade.

More importantly, your normal rock fan still thinks it's cool to yell out "Stairway!" or "Free Bird!" When these shouts arise I think to myself, "Fools! Have you no popular culture sensitivity?" After all, the 1992 film Wayne's World closed the book on shouting out "Stairway to Heaven," with the line, "No Stairway? Denied!" Similarly, the 2005 film The Devil's Rejects gave us the closure we've always been seeking for the tragic plight of Lynyrd Skynyrd when a gruesome gunfight arises to the tune of "Free Bird." (Kudos to Rob Zombie for not playing "Blaze of Glory" instead.) If you know your history, then you know it's not cool to yell out "Stairway!" or "Free Bird!" at concerts anymore.

Unfortunately, however, there there is a kind of human need that is expressed in yelling stupid things to musicians at concerts. Just as there are checks and balances in the United States Constitution to prevent tyranny of one individual or group of individuals, yelling out "Stairway!" is a way of placing checks and balances on the possible tyrannical power of a performer. If it's no longer cool to yell out the names of these two classic songs, then how are we to regain our democratic right from these bullies up on stage? It was in response to this question and in light of my obsession with Prince that I began shouting out "Purple Rain!" at concerts.

"Purple Rain!" is golden. It's a song that everyone is familiar with. Just as importantly, it is still uncommon to hear as a request at a concert. That means it's still cool to shout it out. Every performer prepares a pat response to the inevitable "Stairway!" or "Free Bird!" But now there's a new level of measuring the coolness (and thus the power) of a performer: in all likelihood any given performer has not prepared for the "Purple Rain!" contingency, so if said performer can deal with this request in a cool and interesting way, this performer can be called cool.

* * *

Two nights before seeing Bob Saget I went to a Pete Yorn concert at the Dallas House of Blues. At this point I had been shouting out "Purple Rain!" at concerts for something over a year, and nobody had satisfied me with a really cool response. That night I requested the tune twice. The second time was with Pete Yorn himself, who didn't bat an eye at the request despite the fact that I was directly in front of him in the first row of general admission fans. The first time was with Yorn's opener, a young musician named Isaac Russell.

"Purple Rain!" I shouted. "Purple Rain?" Isaac Russell asked. "YEAH!" I shouted. Russell then proceeded to look from his guitar to his microphone and back for some thirty seconds, a look of mischief coming over him. Finally, as if he shook the devil off his shoulder, he said directly to me, "No. I'm not going to do that song."

Things did not look promising when I saw a live Bob Saget comedy set. For normal concerts, the general admission tickets admit one to the floor of the Dallas House of Blues. There are no chairs on the floor, and if you get to the House of Blues on time you can go right up to the front. At the Pete Yorn concert, a woman with a cheap admission ticket received Yorn's harmonica. He walked right up to her, kneeled down and placed it gently into her hands. For the Bob Saget show there were chairs on the floor, and these were the most expensive seats in the house. With general admission tickets we were pushed to the back toward the bar, an area loaded with pillars and douche bag college students to obstruct ones visual and auditory lock on Saget. I was fo far away from Saget that the Wayne's World line paraphrased itself in my mind: "No Purple Rain? Denied!"

To my surprise someone handed Bob Saget an acoustic guitar, and to me this was like some divine being handing me a second chance at greatness. My first chance at greatness was during a Justin Timberlake concert in Dallas a couple of years earlier. It was at this concert that I mastered surfing on the sound waves of the crowd. What I mean by this is that I was silent while the crowd was shouting, but just as soon as the crowd got to its quietest point waiting for Timberlake to speak, I'd shout something. I was against the back wall of the American Airlines Center, and in the relative silence I let out a lion's roar of a request: "DICK IN A BOX!" After about three requests Timberlake played a verse from this song: "Not gonna buy you a diamond ring / That sort of gift don't mean anything." Of course, his entire family was in the audience this night, so he looked up in the general direction of my hollering and asked, "Is it cool if I play another song?"

Saget was even more difficult than Timberlake. With Timberlake, I knew that he at least knew the words and tunr to the song I was requesting. Timberlake's concert, despite the screaming girls, had many more moments of silence. Bob Saget just keeps talking and talking, slinging insults at a rate that one begins to wonder if he needs to breathe. I found a silent moment, however, as he was adjusting the acoustic guitar on his lap. Taking advantage of this brief window of time I shouted, "PURPLE RAIN!" Saget's head stuck bolt upright and he said, "What?" I shouted again, "PURPLE RAIN!" Bob Saget began firing off questions. Had we ever met before? How old was I? Insult, insult, insult. I didn't catch all of it. But then he started strumming the chords that I know so well and singing that beautiful Prince tune. It went on for a verse and a chorus before he said, "This is a really long song," and stopped.

* * *

In the aftermath of living the greatest story ever told, I'm left with the question, "What's next?" Is there any point in requesting "Purple Rain!" if it'll never be more unique and insane than when it was performed by potty-mouthed comedian - not musician - Bob Saget? Ought I to move on to another song? And if so, what could compare? To paraphrase Prince: "Nothing compares 2 Purple Rain."

Though I'm largely in the dark as to how to respond to this situation, I know two things for certain. First, I know that there is some strange and dark Dickensian moment in the past that connects Bob Saget to the song Purple Rain, and I intend to find out more about this. Second, I know that there is still at least one person who might surprise me more than Saget doing "Purple Rain."

So, look out, Mr. President.

Pack your guitar, Mr. Barack Obama, because I'm coming at you with a personal request.

And it sure ain't "Free Bird!"