H.o.p. gets to see a bit of a movie being filmed

So H.o.p. got tonight to see a little of what it’s like when a movie is being filmed.

The movie is “One Missed Call”, directed by Eric Valette (French, don’t know anything about him). It’s a remake of a Japanese horror film where people receive voicemails from the future which include the time of their deaths. They receive these voicemails from themselves and get to listen to themselves scream as they die.

On his way home, Marty saw some filming going on down at the Abbey and took H.o.p. over. They stood around and watched them set up the shot. The scene was a car going down the street but as they filming a car came out of a parking garage and wasn’t supposed to be in the picture so they had to start again. They shot it two more times. Did some dialogue in front of the Abbey from different angles. Then the last shot was of people walking to the entrance of the Abbey and…whah..horrors…the lights go off!

There was a pick-up truck sitting in the middle of the street with a stunt driver in it but it never moved. They pulled up a big water truck that never did anything and a crane too that didn’t do anything. There was a car sitting in the yard and there was a fake fire hydrant knocked over.

When Marty was on his way home they were filming someone walking down the middle of Piedmont.

Now you know some of what to expect in “One Missed Call”.

H.o.p. thought it was cool.

Thoughtful post chucked for a pointer to David Hasselhoff "Jump in my car" anti-war music video criticizing America's promises to give you a hand up to democratic capitalism (serious!)

Forget the thoughtful post on something or other that I wrote earlier and tossed. Forget the posts I continue to write on the films of Fellini and Antonioni but end up not posting. Forget the posting I didn’t make of my recent “Trueman” dream (truly weird, had when I was sick last week). Forget the posts in which I write on what’s going on in Iraq and end up tossing. Forget the Hanford Declassified postings and Views From the Road. Forget it all.

Ah, but the music videos of David Hasselhoff. Ah, but…

I don’t believe I will ever successfully wrap my brain around the mindset that brings these videos to us. They are so endlessly perplexingly bad as to be the intentional fruit of some truly demented souls and are deserving of analysis other than the usual “what in the hell?” and “he’s continuing to try to bank on his earlier successes”. I’m not the one to do that analysis but here’s a loose scene by scene breakdown of the craziness.

In this video we have the aging television idol playing the aging television idol attempting to pick up some women so that he may supposedly drive them home. The young women say no, that they know his game, and the bemused codger protests, sliming them with codgerly charms until they give in a little, saying “I don’t know”…

At which point the video goes nuts in the only way a Hasselhoff video can ( or in the way only a Hasselhoff video can). America’s stars and stripes race across the screen while Hasselhoff dances in his aging television idol loving his old codgerdom kind of way. Go from the US of A to a bad surreal background of the Knightly car on Australia’s Stuart Highway, the great red rock, Uluru, behind, Darwin only 1502 miles distant and Hasselhoff is now acting like he’s running down the highway. I guess a nod to the Australian Ted Mulry Gang which had a hit with this song back in 1975. Then here we are Hasselhoff has run all the way to Baywatch Beach where he smugly contemplates the sky. Go to bee’s eye many Knight Riderly Hasselhoffs twirling. He winks. Now, “Don’t Hassel the Hoff” stands in front of an image of Hoffey candy apples and a “Hot Cup of Hoffee” and now to blue and white bars kaleidoscoping the background radiating out from behind the leather-jacketed Hoff who is still doing his shrug shoulder dance in front of what seems the old Japanese rising sun flag trying an American color scheme or it’s the American flag trying the old Japanese design, seriously, which is the only thing I can reason since we did start out with the American flag and this must be a variation on it. Now to the Knightly car again on a red background, back to Baywatch and Hoff taking off his sunglasses in horrified astonishment like he’s seen I dunno what but it can’t be anything involving Pamela Anderson as nothing she could do would surprise anyone, then to Hoff playing air guitar in front of the blue and white kaleidascope bars and back now to Hasselhoff pretending to run with great urgency across the Baywatch beach in his lifeguard savior role and then Hoff against a Knightly flaming background striking the kind of “Don’t fuck with me” pose that Ronald Reagen never had to go for because he knew the one with the power to convict was the dude who had you skipping with a smile to shovel someone else’s horse shit.

Ok, go now to the second verse and Hoff has zeroed in on the sick buffalo and is separating it from the pack. Having recognized his face from the candy apples, sick bufalo agreeably parts with her herd, imagining she’s just caught some heir to a caramel fortune. Once in the car she tells him it’s a long way to her place. The codger is not that interested in getting himself a piece anymore that this doesn’t rouse some realistic consternation. He asks if she’s joking then when he finds she’s not there’s a truly bizarre shot of Hoff. The blue and white kaleidaocope has gone red and black and curvy and Hoff gazes blankly at us, mouth moving in a strange kind of puppetanimation (but not) as he voices that there’s only one thing to say, then he’s got red devil horns and fire comes bursting out from behind him as he tells the woman to get out of his car. Back to Hoff in his car with the girl, really aggravated, seems his plans didn’t exceed a couple of miles and a stop for a six pack. He announces that no matter what he’d said earlier, he’s not a nice guy after all. As the green hulk he yells at the disbelieving woman from a television screen to get out of his car. He does a high kick simulating his giving her the boot. Stops the car, presses a button and she is jettisoned out through the open roof. “Eeew, hope she’s ok,” says the Hoff.

And with such lazy, bad production values!

I successfully avoided Knight Rider when it was on the air. I almost successfully avoided Baywatch, only watching it once.

But here I am, after having seen this, going to watch the Hasselhoff Hooked on a Feeling video again.

I am so ashamed of myself for being captivated by the weirdness of these videos enough to watch them more than once.

No, I’m not.

I’ve decided that this video is about America turning Imperial Japanese, plays like it’s a harmless nice savior type that’s going to give you a lift to the next level of democratic capitalism, but being psychotic it goes Kabuki demonic on you for no reason at all and leaves you lying bleeding on the street.

Am I right? Am I right?

Update: And then there’s the “Then I’ll just put up a fence” line. Yeah sure, written back in 1975, but voiced with especial meaning here as a jab at anti-immigration policies. I forgot to mention that because I was so carried away with the flag imagery.

"Who dares to laugh at the vampire?!"

I sit here downloading old animations from the Hollywood Animation Archive Project Blog for H.o.p. Nice to have these made available for download. It’s a great site that provides some animation and cartoon history and knowledge but also is documenting their archiving of cartoons, comics, drawings, etc. There are times when it’s not exactly age appropriate for H.o.p. so I periodically check the site out and find posts that he’d be interested in. We looked at a number of things today as the old ‘toons available at Animation ID that were housed on YouTube have been pulled for probably copyright violation, which is too bad as it is through watching them that was H.o.p. was building an appreciation that might later result in his wanting us to buy DVDs of them.

These animation sites are such a boon for us to be able to root through them, giving H.o.p. some history of the medium and styles.

Right now he’s watching a sort of darkly surreal political cartoon he happened upon that his brain is trying to figure out. Has watched it several times, very quietly, asking me an occasional question about the meaning.

And later right now he’s watching the opening of the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon, which is a hell of a lot of fun.

He now has the promised tripod and has been trying it out.

We had a fun time the other day. He wanted me to film him pretending to be a vampire. He wrapped a blanket around himself and went and stood in the corner then slowly looked back at me over his shoulder. I cracked up laughing, at which point H.o.p. decided it would no longer be a drama, instead it was going to be a comedy. Over and over he had me film him as he turned, I would laugh, and he’d intone, “Who dares to laugh at the vampire!” as he advanced and then did a prat fall on the blanket.

If you’re feeling whimsical, Tubby the Tuba

Audio link is gone so am placing the Pal instead, now online.

We used to have a trash copy of Pal’s Tubby I was able to tape off some program years ago, but can’t find it anymore. I went looking online today as H.o.p. was asking about it and found the audio, which H.o.p. also enjoyed and though it’s been years since he saw Tubby he kept asking when was the part with the frog. When I was a child, it was the music which won my heart (along with Tubby’s joy at finding his song) when I saw the animation on Captain Kangaroo, at the age of seven. And I waited and waited for it to play again one day, which it did but I only caught a couple of seconds, then didn’t see it again for another thirty years. But I never forgot Tubby.

“Catch me, cried the little tune, “Catch me.”

“Caught you!” cried Tubby

“Oh you’re sitting on me,” said the Little Tune.

Poor Tubby picked up the flat Little Tune and tried to squeeze it back into shape.


Poor Tubby, indeed.

Danny Kaye also did a recording of Tubby, a portion of which is up at NPR, commemorating Pal’s creation upon his death at the age of 91 in 2002. I prefer the Victor Jory.

Vaguely hunting

We can no longer stand driving around this big smog-entrenched, heat island of a city in an old rambling falling apart van with no air conditioning. Falling apart is one thing. No air is another. The lungs suffer. Of course, not knowing if your vehicle is going to start up when you cut it off is kind of troubling. The van’s relability on the road has so deteriorated that Marty’s scared to drive it to out-of-town gigs. It’s in the shop every other week for something or other to be looked at. We’ve blown a lot of money on repairs over the years and it’s not worth it to us to dump more money into it. The engine is fine. It’s the peripherals that keep going out on us, like the transmission which we’ve had to replace three times The shape it’s now in, Blue Book says we can get $700 for it. Big whoop. The question is do we get the driver’s side window fixed so it rolls down and try to sell it ourselves for a little more money. (Yes, that’s right, no AC and only the passenger’s window rolls down. Makes for a nasty hot experience. Means we are never without bottles of water when we go out.)

So I’ve been sitting here this evening going through pro and customer reviews of vehicles that may suit (carry us and just Marty’s keyboards, no more carting everyone else’s gear, those days are over) which don’t go at absolutely mind-blowing prices and cut us some significant slack in the gas department. And you know how I wrote the other day, “But he (H.o.p.) enjoys good film and I suppose some of my love for it has passed along to him. Not things like “Juliette of the Spirits”. It’s not something he would enjoy yet.” Well, while I’m plodding through reviews, I hear music from “Juliette of the Spirits” and I go in and find H.o.p. lying there on the futon beside Marty, beaming, watching, “Juliette of the Spirits”, asking questions about this, that and the other.

“What? You like ‘Juliette of the Spirits’?” I say.

He looks up, grins big, says, “I don’t just like it! I love it!”

Oh my.

Anyway, he asks questions about what’s going on and we explain to him.

So that’s what was going on this evening. H.o.p. has discovered Fellini. I’ve been reading vehicle reviews. I’m planning on stopping that pretty soon and settling down to watch “8 and 1/2”. I think.

Mainly, I’m looking forward to a vehicle with air conditioning. I can count on my fingers and toes the number of months we’ve ever had a vehicle with working air conditioning over the course of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 presidents? Yeah, I think that’s right. And it is time, time, time, to have one. Hopefully by the end of next week.

Benadryl and Juliette of the Spirits doesn’t mix well

One reason I’m slogging through mud around here is because I’ve been doing Benadryl round the clock for allergies the past couple of weeks, which I hate as sometimes it makes me feel quite doped. Had just taken some last night when I sat down to watch “Juliette of the Spirits”, which I’ve not seen in several years as our copy was bad. But now have a new DVD. Was unable to watch it all the way through though as I kept falling asleep, despite the fact I was riveted, as ever, by the photography and Giulietta Masina’s amazing face.

I’m reminded that I’ve not seen “La Strada” since the 80s and must view it some time soon. I recollect nothing about it.

Had forgotten just how frightening to Juliette was the visionary appearance of the barge of the barbarians. She is at the beach and witnesses Suzy and her entourage float up in their pretty much incomparable way. And then the vision of the barge of the barbarians, the first scene of which is the dead horses.

Continue reading Benadryl and Juliette of the Spirits doesn’t mix well

Would Juliette of the Spirits have turned down a sangria mixed up by Andrea Bocelli?

Another pledge drive by PBS and tonight it’s the program, “Andrea Bocelli, Amore, Under the Desert Sky”.

I suffered through listening to their presentation of “Great Performances: South Pacific” the other night because because we don’t have cable so I don’t know what’s on other television but if we have the television on and a DVD isn’t playing then it’s PBS that’s running because when the television is cut off H.o.p. makes sure it’s on PBS and thus when it’s cut on by H.o.p. it’s turned to PBS, which is something he’s grown up doing not so much because he thus far accepts my disdain of television but because commercial television is kind of scary to him, and since a little child he’s avoided it. If Marty has a show he wants to watch, he retires to the bedroom and H.o.p. closes the door and avoids the room.

Maybe you liked “Great Performances: South Pacific”. Did I like the movie as a kid? Would I now? I didn’t like it as a kid not so much because of the music but because I didn’t like the leads, I didn’t believe Mitzi Gaynor as some plucky mid-American, didn’t get the French guy, didn’t believe any of it really, and I’ve not tried it out as an adult. Still, I don’t get “South Pacific” without the staging, and here was PBS telling me that this was our “classical” music and how important it was our children got to hear it performed at Carnegie Hall blah blah. It was running in the other room while I was working and I was thinking, “Boy, that’s certainly some flat, uninviting performance, doesn’t convince me at all, I don’t believe a word of it” but I left it on, despite the fact no one was watching, because because I was too lazy to cut it off.

And at some point this week I passed the television, which was again being watched by no one despite our apartment being small enough that the television on in the front room means it’s unavoidable as an old Drive-Inn movie screen staring down at the cows in the next field (somehow we still manage to avoid) and there was Andrea Bocelli singing, without sound, because at least the sound was off, and I admit I’m clueless enough that I was fooled, I caught a brief glimpse of the background set which looked kind of real and I thought it was some performance somewhere in Europe and thought to myself well the Europeans sure like it American don’t they or vice versa.

Well I discover tonight that the show was filmed at Lake Las Vegas, a resort with a fake Italian setting. This time the sound is turned up and I don’t turn it down because I’m trying to absorb why millions of people love this, I don’t get it, simply don’t get it, and I’m torturing myself with not getting it (and the fact that the on/off button on the one year old television stopped working last week and tonight I can’t find the remote control). The overdone orchestration, no feeling to it at all. And if Bocelli has any feeling for a song, I can’t tell it either, someone whose singing I don’t care for and am ever amazed whenever I hear about how huge, how popular he is, which I very rarely hear about because I’m not tuned into the media that sells him. To me it’s all bad dinner music that isn’t easy on my ear. But I leave it on for some reason, though not because I’m entranced, and not because I haven’t thought to pull the plug, I guess because I’m waiting to hear if it ever possibly gets good, if there is anything I might like at all. I look up on the internet to see if there’s anyone else who dislikes his music and if they do they’re buried by the fans. Lots of static about Bocelli performing on “American Idol”. Believe it or not but I’ve never watched “American Idol”, not one episode. I’m just not turned in, so not tuned in I hardly realize it’s going on out there.

These arrangements! Agh! How to describe it? I can’t. The only thing that comes to mind is Fellini’s “Juliette of the Spirits” and the scene where the boat of the barbarians is being drug along by the guy on the beach, Juliette looking on, but instead in my head there’s appeared Juliette looking on in stunned amazement as PBS drags “Amore” past in that boat, chandeliers clanging. That is the only thing that grabs me and it only exists in my head. And I’m seriously surprised that when I’m trying to dream up a way to describe this music and PBS’ presentation of it, that Juliette of the Spirits appears, not to compare Amore with the boat of the barbarians and Suzy and her entourage, but to contrast the sense of humor of Suzy’s barbarians–that are somehow equal parts exotic and K-Mart–and the oh too flatulence inducing seriousness of Amore’s production values. Reminds me of a nice but very prim young woman with whom we once ate dinner, whose intestines were surprised by the beans.

God I suddenly miss Nino Rota’s music. Am going to have to dig up “Juliette of the Spirits” or “8 and 1/2”.

Back to PBS selling me how much we all adore Amore and Andrea Bocelli.

“Listening to him play Neil Diamond, on the piano…” the host gushes.

Oh. Ok. I think I’m getting what’s going on here.

And they’re talking about how amazing it is that Bocelli can sing without the added dimension of sight-reading helping him.

Yeah, now I get it.

(What in the world is going on in their brains, that it’s amazing Bocelli can sing without being able to sight-read?)

Oddly enough, and I’m not sure if this is something I like or don’t like about myself, but if I was in someone else’s environment, someone I liked, and this music was naturally a part of their environment, something they liked, then I wouldn’t like it any better but I’d get it as far as their envionment goes and would accept it and wouldn’t quibble about it and might even enjoy it as far as being part of the overall environment of the person, part of their setting. Well, I wouldn’t quibble so much, perhaps. If it was Neil Diamond then I would be in misery, as weasels ripped my ears tearing my smile to pieces.

This from probably the only person you’ll ever virtually meet who actually does enjoy Schoenberg.

Now PBS is telling me that the 50s music is no longer being heard on commercial radio and how we can’t let our history die, we can’t let it be erased. Songs like, “How much is that doggie in the window?” I have no argument with Nat King Cole singing “Mona Lisa”, but how they can talk about that and “Oh my pappa” in the same breath, I don’t know.

This from a person who actually likes Dean Martin singing, “When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…”

And I’m wondering why in the world PBS, for their pledge drive, isn’t instead featuring, as works which must not be forgotten, Schoenberg and John Cage and, well, Gavin Bryers.

I go to Amazon because I’m looking for something by another composer whose name I can’t remember. I check out too Bryers’ “Sinking of the Titanic” to see what versions they have of it. I look at “Customers who bought this item also bought”, thinking the other composer, whose name I can’t remember, might show up there, and the results shown are:

* Bryars: Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet ~ Gavin Bryars
* Aria: A Passion for Opera ~ Tito Gobbi
* Trout Mask Replica ~ Captain Beefheart
* Prison Songs (Historical Recordings From Parchman Farm 1947-48), Vol. 1: Murderous Home ~ Various Artists
* I Have Heard It Said That a Spirit Enters ~ Bryars
* In the Wee Small Hours ~ Frank Sinatra
* Solo Monk ~ Thelonious Monk
* Texas-Czech Bands, 1929-1959 ~ Various Artists

And yes, that’s a snapshot of part of our music collection.

Ah, blessed silence. I found the remote buried under H.o.p.’s drawings and cut off the television. For now. Marty called, is on his way home from the studio, and is saying he’s thinking of stopping and getting a cheap DVD player since ours is going bad. I tell him to pick up a copy of “Juliette of the Spirits” as our videotape of it is worn out.

Lake Las Vegas? Somewhere around here is our copy of Sugar’s “Copper Blue”. Time to pull it out and listen to “Hoover Dam”, which can only be appreciated at appropriate volume.

And so we discuss Hitchcock (a little)

Most of the animations at the Super Shorts Festival are for adults but there are a few appropriate for children, such as The Stalking, directed by Andrew Johnson, which H.o.p. is crazy about because it is reminiscent of Wallace and Grommit. I tell him that it is a take-off on Alfred Hitchcock’s horror films. He has never seen a Hitchcock film and I tell him he won’t be able to see one for a while yet, but we discuss Hitchcock and he’s asking me about, “Does he use shadows like this?” and acting out the shadows and asking about camera angles and telling me how he thinks Alfred Hithcock would shoot something and asking me if that is how he would do it. Has made for an interesting conversation.

I’m putting this link to the animation on my blog so H.o.p. will have easy access, because he wants to watch it over and over. So forget your edification. This is just for H.o.p.

It don’t worry me

Lance Mannion last week compared Kelly’s Heroes and MASH in a post at American Street, Kelly’s Heroes are my Heroes. Which also got some commentary here.

I ended up bringing up Nashville and thus got a pointer over to an Altman Blogfest that was occurring this past weekend. I didn’t participate as it’s difficult for me to break Altman down into nuggets, though the bits and pieces are what Altman excels at spying and draping threads between. If Nashville was geomtry only, all its threads and hubs would look like a Red Skelton stage after he was done with a wallpapering skit…

Continue reading It don’t worry me

In which I find it has all been written and there is nothing else for me to do in this world but microwave hotdogs

ANNOUNCER: Other shampoos just work on your hair. But Chambraigne travels down each follicle and bores into your skull, depositing magical knowledge crystals.

TV’S AL ROKER: (“Heavy User”): Lather your way to a new intelligence.


ANNOUNCER: With Chambraigne. The shampoo of kings. (Faster) Made by Carl and Sons. Continued use may result in limb loss.


SPACE GHOST: Finally, a product for me! I believe every word that man just said, because it’s exactly what I wanted to hear.


SPACE GHOST: Ha ha ha ha! I’m already smart enough to know this is working!


VOICE: This is a proud day for Carl and Sons, son. (TWO BRAINS HOVER IN SHADOW)

LARGE BRAIN (CARL): We’ve sold enough Chambraigne to purchase this…television.


SMALL BRAIN (SON): (incoherent squeaking)

CARL: Yes, son. Fetch daddy’s hard plastic eyes so he can see the TV.


CARL: On the dresser! You are an imbecile!


Ice, cold, valor and vanity

Mardi Gras. Marty’s sick but of course has back to back gigs this week, had a Mardi Gras gig tonight and is still a couple of hours out, heading home. He called and spoke through sniffles. It’s a slow-burning cold and H.o.p., after trailing Kleenex for a couple of days, insisting it was allergies (did not want a cold) finally got the fever today. “I’ve got boogers coming out my nose!” But he’s not absolutely miserable. “It’s allergies,” he still insisted with the fever, slept and laid around and I would go in to sit with him when he woke up and we ended up watching PBS’s show on the Franklin northwest passage expedition, turned tragedy by botulism and lead poisoning, which was pretty depressing, but we sat there stupefied by congestion and stared at the ice, going through tissues, H.o.p. with tissue hanging out each nostril, and every time I sneezed H.o.p. would laugh.

I was reminded of the haunting movie, “The Red Tent” (Krasnaya palatka), directed by Mikheil Mikheil Kalatozishvili, Sean Connery playing Roald Amundsen, an explorer who died in the effort to rescue the crew of Umberto Nobile’s ill-fated polar flight.

Umberto Nobile decides he wants to fly over the North Pole in a blimp. His crew is composed of scientists and journalists. Winds tear the blimp apart. The surviving crew sets up a salvaged tent, paints it red and waits for help. A month passes before the world realizes they’re alive with an amateur radio operator picking up a transmission. Nobile is for some reason airlifted out first. He protests. The sick should go first. But the pilot insists he can only airlift Nobile (also injured) this time around. Then, returning, the rescue pilot crashes. The explorer, Amundsen, also dies during a rescue attempt.

Peter Finch plays Nobile, reflecting on all this as an old man, being judged in his imagination by the dead and survivors of his crew. But I scarcely recollect him in the film. It’s instead the red tent I remember. The red tent. And Connery. It has been years since I’ve seen the film, and I recollect only a little of this trial by imagination. What I instead remember is the red tent and the waiting. The questions of courage or vanity. Nobile in a warm place, years distant, meeting again the ice, in what is successfully a story about each of the individuals.

Continue reading Ice, cold, valor and vanity

The woman washing cars with a hamburger is funny stuff

H.o.p. right now is excited about any movie that comes out, as long as it’s not frightening.

He wants to see that movie “…about mermaids! There’s going to be a movie about a mermaid! I’ve never seen a mermaid!”

Then when there was the commercial for the horror film about mutants from the Manhattan Project he had me hide his eyes during and asked me afterwards what it was about. That was followed by a commercial about “Date Movie.”

H.o.p.: That’s not a scary movie is it?
Me: Nope.
H.o.p: It’s a funny movie?
Me: Yes.
H.o.p.: We can watch it!
Me: Uhm, I don’t think you’d much like it.
H.o.p.: Why not?
Me: Well, uhm, it is uhm well it might have smoochy stuff and people kissing. (What do I know about what exactly it will have in it? But H.o.p. at 7 started hiding his eyes when people kissed in movies and still does a bit, though not as much as he did. And I figure Date Movie will be a lot of sexual humor that will be inappropriate for an eight-year-old.)
H.o.p.: That’s ok. Kissing isn’t scary.
Me: It’s a movie for adults.
H.o.p.: Why? It’s a funny movie.
Me: Well, the humor is kind of adult humor. Like, uhm, some men think women ought to wear bikinis all the time, they think women are kind of like dolls in bikinis, they don’t think of them as people, and I suppose it makes fun of that kind of attitude but it does it in a way that is for adults. (I was thinking of the Paris Hilton parody as I spoke and I was really at a loss for words and had other things on my mind.)
H.o.p.: But it’s funny! There’s a woman in it who uses a hamburger to wash her car! That’s funny!!

Soooo, the Paris Hilton parody part of the commercial was the part that caught his attention. But it’s seemingly because she’s washing the car with a hamburger! And that’s funny!

I read the movie isn’t funny, however. I read that it’s pretty much a disaster.

Anyway, I think that’s kind of amusing. When H.o.p. sees the Paris Hilton parody part of the commercial, he sees a woman using a hamburger to wash her car and finds it hysterical.

For the present.