And really, it was a vision. I had A Vision, and I don't kid around about this shit, just like I don't kid around about how when my palm itches I make a score. Not as in A Score, like that movie from 2002 called The Score, which is about stealing stuff, or even The Score from 1973, which is a movie with the same name but is about free-love, 1973-style "swinging." But I don't know for sure about that last one because I never saw it and I'm just going off of what www. imdb. com says.
What is the deal with these movies? Why can't they make a rule, or at least a law, about naming movies the same name? And that goes for remakes, too. Like The Eye, and Solaris, and pretty soon The Stepford Wives. It's irritating, especially when they are supposed to be the same movie and they aren't--even the Psycho remake, where I heard the director-guy supposedly shot it scene-for-scene exactly like the original one, which is stupid, man. I didn't actually see that one either, but that just sounds like a bad idea. I can't believe that came from somebody trying to make a movie that people were supposed to want to go see. I mean, I like me some movies, but I'm not going to see no Psycho that's just a copy of the original, plus it has the same name. Come on, man, show a little imagination, huh? They shoulda called it maybe Psycho Reshot Scene-for-Scene, or Psycho With the Guy From Swingers Who You're Supposed to Take Seriously as a, uh, Psycho. Or they shoulda called it Bad Fucking Idea for a Movie Because America Is Not All Film Geeks. Damn.
Anyway, when my palm itches, it means I'm gonna score, but not like Shaft's Big Score! or anything like that. Just a tiny li'l one. And I didn't put that exclamation point in the name of the Shaft's Big Score! movie--it came with, OK? And speaking of Shaft, that's a perfect example. You gonna tell me that there's this movie Shaft from 1971, and then there's another movie named Shaft in 2000? I don't think it's right, and something should be done about it, but that's probably why I got an every-other-week column in a weekly newspaper, because I'm all wrapped up in rules or something, right? Like, why can't I get out of my box or Shift My Paradigm or find out Who Moved My Cheese while I'm listening to the Third Voice, right?
Anyway, fuck Hollywood: Let's get back to me and my itchy palm. So I swear to Cthulhu, when my palm itches, I Get Paid a teensy-weensy bit. It's that simple. And it's not like I win the fucking lottery or something--just like 10 or 20 bucks, something that'll buy me a nice lunch or maybe 20 scratch-off lottery tickets so's maybe I can score big time, y'heard? And look, I ain't superstitious, but every time my palm itches, I pay attention to it, and it has never failed me, for real. I test it, my itchy palm. I'm like, "Aha! This time I will prove my foolish superstition to be just that!" But then inside of a week or two, I find 20 bucks inside an old pair of pants, or I get a check I never thought I'd get for something from somebody, or I win me some money from the scratch-offs.
But enough about me and my Gift of Predicting Low-Rent Windfalls. I have this information in my head and I really don't know what to do with it, and since it came to me in A Vision, I have to pay as much attention to it as I would when my palm itches, and it's kind of a disturbing Vision, so I need to release it, my Vision. I don't know about you, but that's how I get all my stuff, like ideas and answers to the Jumble and the Final Jeopardy! question, which is really an answer but you have to lay it out in question form. And I didn't put that exclamation point in Jeopardy! either, it comes with.
So like I said already about a hundred times, I don't know exactly what to do with this information or what purpose it serves, but I have a profound feeling about this information, this concept, this Vision, if you will, OK? I think it's an important theme or something, it is some powerful information, and I also think it is vital information and I need to relay it unto you immediately. But look, really, this is just some schmutz in my head that wants to be let loose, right? It's inside my skull and it is aching to be free, or at least to be released from its cramped quarters. So here it is, umkay? Get ready for some information. Are you ready for some information? Of course you are, you're already reading--probably not right this minute for some information, because you are reading this column, but here ya go, straight no chaser:
Man, I feel better now, thanks.
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