"Barbie;" The Review I Probably Shouldn't be Publishing but to Hell with it.

Only the least media savvy individual in the world missed the absurd conflation of the "Barbie" movie and Chris Nolan's latest film, "Oppenheimer," i.e. the biopic that isn't a biopic because he said so and 

SO THERE!!!

I must confess a lack of interest in either film when they were released into theaters but I knew I would probably see them both once they came to home media. As "luck" would have it, I saw "Barbie" first; just the other day, in fact. And since I haven't felt compelled to review a film on this blog in a long while, it should be obvious that I had a rather strong reaction to it, although not the way cheerleaders and detractors might expect.

The plot of the Greta Gerwig-directed  film can be summed up as follows: Barbie dolls and Ken dolls live in a plastic world made up of their playsets and vehicles and blissfully live out the same scenarios on a daily basis without once questioning any of it. They believe the real world is run by strong, intelligent women whose inspiration came from the very Barbie dolls that reside in this sub-reality. However, one day Stereotypical Barbie (Margot Robbie) starts having thoughts of death and a feeling of not belonging.

Wacky antics ensue as our heroine seeks help from (sigh) Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon in a surprisingly subdued, lackluster performance) whose appearance is bizarre because some psychotic little girl subjected her doll to some truly disturbing shit. Why she's the wise woman o' the mountain is never explained but that's what she is and soon our Barbie is traveling to the real world to find the little girl whose unusual play has caused her ennui. Oh, and Ryan Gosling's Ken comes along for the ride because he loves her even though she doesn't love him.

The first third of this film is rather enjoyable. Most of the jokes work and the acting, minus Gosling's bizarre timing, is very good as well. The juxtaposition of Barbie and Ken in the real world is amusing if all-too-brief, but the world they find themselves in doesn't feel all that real. In fact, it seems equally artificial to Barbie's reality. That's where the first of several missteps takes place.

The real world in "Barbie" is not the world you and I live in, it's the product of a limited imagination designed to make a sociopolitical point one could find in any first semester college student's term paper. For whatever reason, Gerwig and her co-writer Noah Baumbach decided to make an entire movie with that conceit.

Before one can utter the phrase, "Abandoned plot point," Barbie locates the girl she's looking for in record time without an ounce of dramatic tension or struggle. If it's almost as if this isn't the movie's real point...Anyway...

A plot twist worthy of a 1970s sitcom ensues once we realize the identity of the actual "little girl" and suddenly there's a car chase as Barbie evades the incredibly incompetent Mattel executives who want to put her literally back in the box for...reasons.

Let's pause here for a moment: Those execs whose jobs depend on running a successful company seem to want Barbie back in Dreamland so the toys don't change. But when they do change, the profits continue rolling in. So, why are they still chasing her? And when she does go back, why do they follow her at a snail's pace, only to show up when the plot calls for them to help resolve it in the lamest way possible? There's really only one sensible explanation: Gerwig and Baumbach are hacks.

The "why" of it all grows exponentially as more things happen as if plucked from a deceased magician's hat. Ken witnesses examples of toxic masculinity such as guy's talking to each other and riding horses so he can return to Dreamland and install a patriarchal system to replace the matriarchal one he and the other Kens have suffered under for decades. Yeah! Stick it to the...man?

Barbie experiences an epiphany in a matter of moments when she sees people smiling and a lovely elderly woman sharing a park bench with her. "These are people," she appears to think, "Real people doing real people things. How nice. How beautiful. How tragic. Well, time to go live a lie some more!" Now, if that isn't the most poignant statement on how women are often made to eke out their existences, I don't know what is. But that's too introspective for a film that wears its grievances on its sleeve, and so we're whisked away to more wacky antics and self-conscious dialogue as the dreaded third act rears its hideous countenance.

American movies often suffer from lackluster, underdeveloped third acts. Much of this comes from studio involvement and their insistence upon focus groups and sneak previews. I doubt that was what happened here though. Remember, this whole movie is designed to prove a point and what better way to do it than to reverse everything the audience saw at the beginning?

Actually, there are at least three ways that would have been better, but I'm reviewing the movie we got, not the one that exists in a parallel universe where actual thought was put into things like story and plot progression.

The result of Ken's observations of stereotypical masculinity have resulted in a very different world than the one Barbie left on her quest. But worry not, for the triumph of plastic womanhood is a mere long-winded speech nobody would every utter in real life away from retaking Dreamland and instituting an even more oppressive form of matriarchy than existed previously. 

Yay?

I often complain about horror movies lacking third acts but if this is the kind we get in other genres, maybe it's for the best. One unfunny, idiotic sight gag after another takes place as the Kens go to war over something poorly defined like their girlfriends going off with other Kens. The battle takes place using sports gear because I guess that's funny. Then a dance-off happens because I guess recycled Eighties humor is funny, too. By the time the forgettable song started, I had long ago mentally checked out. 

I realize this movie was hailed as some sort of deeply philosophical clarion call for feminism but all it really does is insult the audience's intelligence and diminish the very real issues woman face in society by espousing a simpleton's view of life. And any movie that gives us a terrible, witless catchphrases like, "I am Kenough" deserve their own special place in hell.

I'm looking at you, "Avenger's: Endgame" and , "I love you 3000."

Latest Published Short Story

 I've been keeping quiet about this, patiently awaiting all the edits and formatting, knowing its time was going to come. Now that it has, I can announce my short story publication in the latest print copy of the Horror Zine. Gaze upon yon kick-ass cover:

My story is titled, "The Helpful Dead" and it's the only one you should care about!

Kidding. This issue is chockful of talented writers and wonderful short stories.

The print edition is $14.99 and the Kindle edition is $5.99. I don't care which one you get as long as you read mine first.

Order the magazine by clicking this link.

As always, reviews are welcome and encouraged, even negative ones. 

Tenzin, What Were You Thinking???

 There are times when I really, really hate being proven right. The latest Dalai Lama controversy is one of those times. In case you need a recap, you may click here or read the pull quote below:

The Dalai Lama has apologized for kissing a young boy on the lips and asking him to "suck my tongue" after a video of the incident sparked outrage on social media.

So...Yeah. That happened. 

There could be all sorts of reasons behind what he did. He could be suffering from Dementia, which is likely. He really could have been kidding, which is also likely given his attempts at joking in the past. Or, he could be an old pervert who has lost the ability to keep his perversions to himself. I want to say that's the least likely scenario, but if scandals surrounding holy folk turning out to be sexual predators has taught me anything, it's that the benefit of the doubt is no longer a luxury we can afford. 

As a lapsed Buddhist, I suppose I should be more upset at losing a spiritual teacher than I am. So, why am I not? Frankly, I never much cared for the guy. For me, he's always been a questionable figure who seemed more in love with fame and notoriety than in preaching the Dharma. Even when I saw him in-person, long before I'd formed an opinion of him, old Tenzin gave me a funny vibe.

This was in the early Nineties when Tibetan-style Buddhism was just starting to supplant Zen as the dominant denomination or "school" of the religion in the United States. This was thanks in so small part to actor Richard Gere and the Free Tibet movement. Unlike Zen, (Mahayana Buddhism) the Tibetan school (Vajrayana) had a sexy political cause behind it. Plus, it was a lot prettier than the stripped-down, barebones Zen. It was filled with beautiful colors and lots of pageantry and it had its very own Pop equivalent in the form of a charismatic leader.

I am a Zen Buddhist. I do not subscribe to the overwrought Tibetan version of Buddhism. I find it spiritually empty and far too provincial to be taken seriously. The Book of the Dead, the Bardo, all those rituals including seeking out a reincarnated former lama (teacher) always seemed primitive and silly to me. My belief is that Buddha attained enlightenment through a spontaneous flash of insight during meditation and then chose to guide others to that same place rather than hoard the realization for himself. He didn't choose to become a king.

So, when I observed the Dalai Lama along with other members of my temple, I found him entertaining and charming but something seemed off somehow. In the ensuing years, I came to regard him as an over-exposed media whore, constantly mugging for the camera and seeking validation through fame. Whenever I compared him to the teacher I feel best embodies the Way of the Buddha, Thich Naht Hanh  he came up sorely lacking. Hanh was a humble, mostly solitary figure who did not seek fame and exposure. His actions caused people to notice him, which is how every story about someone following the Buddha begins. 

Buddha never went on a speaking tour and he certainly never made stupid comments about immigrants and women. He never courted celebrities and, here's the most important part, he never placed his focus on a single country and got involved in politics. He also would have never allowed himself to be named the in-effect head of a nation. These were not things an Enlightened One would concern himself with.

Having said all that, however, this incident was quite unforeseen. What was Tenzin thinking? I realize sticking out one's tongue is a show of greetings in Tibetan culture but I doubt telling a kid to suck said tongue is part of the greeting. If anything, the Dalai Lama is an extremely sheltered individual whose every utterance is treated as infallible...until it's not. Then damage control kicks in and nonpologies fly out from the Tibetan PR machine. 

Thich Naht Hanh never issued a single apology for questionable behavior. Neither did Buddha. Hmm. I wonder why old Tenzin has to keep doing it?

Censorship on Demand

Source: https://sites.psu.edu/worldwidewomen/censorship-effects-on-society/

 

Censorship group: We have a list of 200 books we would like removed from the library's shelves immediately!

Library: Well, let's take a look here and...umm, actually we don't have any of those titles in our library.

Censorship group: We're going to go after your collection policy!

Library: But why? We don't have those titles here.

Censorship group: But according to your policy, you could! Someday! Maybe! Possibly!

The above dialogue is not an imagined scenario, it is my way of presenting something that really happened in the United States of 'Murica. Now that the Karens and Chads have lost the masking policies as a form of self-congratulatory faux activism, they're once more focusing on ideas. It's all in the name of the children, of course, because that's how they accomplish their agenda. Everybody who has a different way of thinking is "grooming" the poor innocent kids as if they don't groom them to become pro-censorship, anti-science wackjobs with blatant self-worth issues. 

There is an organization comprised of, surprise-surprise, conservative women who are aggressively trying to do everything they can to make censorship great again. Why do I say "again?" Well, there was a time when it was the norm in this country. In fact, the notion of unfettered access to ideas is relatively new on the United States timeline. The name of this group is, unironically, MomsforLiberty. And in case you're wondering, they have been largely successful in their attempts to keep kids away from scary concepts such as American's actual history and the fact that not everybody is straight.

Operating under the guise of advocating for parental rights, what they're really saying is they want to be able to be part of a society while at the same time not being in any way responsible to that society. It should come as no surprise that these privileged stay-at-homes (mostly) want to have their proverbial cake and eat it, too. They are, after all, used to getting their own way because of who they are. I know, I know. I'm indulging in supposed "identity politics" or whatever rightwing catchphrase is the hip one these days, but facts are still facts no matter how they are labeled.

Like their counterparts in other, similar movements, they proceed from a false premise (See image to the left). The idea that schools, libraries and society at large are somehow attempting to "co-parent" their precious kids is absurd and small-minded. The role of these entities is to provide access to materials to a broad demographic and, if there is teaching occurring, it is for the betterment of the society as a whole. If you don't agree with making your child a well-rounded citizen, homeschool them and keep them in your bubble.

That's not good enough for MomsforLiberty though. Their mission is to wash across the country and effect change in their wake. They see themselves as warriors in the cause of childhood purity and, frankly, they have just enough actual precedent to make themselves seem credible to the misinformed. That's how these groups with their dubious origins become forces to be reckoned with. And make no mistake, they are indeed that.

There is a reason glad-handing opportunists such as Ron DeSantis are so cozy with them. They are a large voting bloc and they vote for anybody who parrots their views. Florida has been their most successful battleground so far but they have chapters in nearly every state. And if the rumors are true and this organization actually requires loyalty oaths and photos of members, we are looking at a totalitarian attempt at policing ideas that will not end with school libraries.

For a list of MomsforLiberty's "accomplishments," click here

10 "Perfect" Movies (and why)

No preamble needed. See the list below:

1.  Raiders of the Lost Ark- Easily Spielberg's finest hour, this is the perfect marriage of he and Lucas. The plot is compelling, the main protagonist is an instant legend, and the shooting style feels very old school with its use of shadows and slow tracking shots. The action is also unmatched and catapulted adventure films onto a whole new level.
2. Casablanca- Movies that are written by more than two people have no right to be watchable let alone arguably the greatest movie ever made. But the changes to the script for "Casablanca" did nothing but make it better with each iteration. Inspired casting, direction, music and acting make this is a film without a single wasted moment.
3. Top Gun: Maverick- I'm not sure who decided sequels are automatically inferior to the originals but they were wrong and this film is why. There's never been a more pitch perfect sequel to a movie nobody expected to ever get one. There's reverence for the original without the plot descending into a by-the-numbers retread and the emotional stakes are off the scale. Another film without a wasted moment.
4. The Empire Strikes Back- Here's another one for sequel haters. No film before this one had ever taken a relatively skeletal first installment and developed it so beautifully in all areas. The characters are better fleshed out, the fight feels more urgent, the acting is stellar and the many reveals feel organic to the world Lucas created. 
5. Blazing Saddles- Few comedies age as beautifully as this one has. The jokes still work, the message is still as poignant as ever, and there's a real story being told with characters who seem like actual people despite the absurd goings-on around them. Also, Mel Brooks was born to direct westerns.
6. Captain America: The Winter Soldier- Paying attention, sequel haters? A brilliant sequel that shows how easily superhero stories can be adapted into other genres such as political suspense thrillers. 
7. Beverly Hills Cop- Proof that a script can sometimes serve as a framework for the ideas of a brilliant young comic at the height of his creativity, this is another movie that shouldn't have worked. If you don't believe me, take a look at "Cobra" starring Sylvester Stallone which was based on the same screenplay. That movie was ass. "Cop" was a perfect blend of comedy, gritty realism and social commentary.
8. Django Unchained- Although it's my second favorite Tarantino film, it's the one with the best execution. The acting, the setting, the action are all top notch and this is maybe the only filmmaker who could make you root for the hero to kill unarmed people.
9. Dark City- A true forgotten gem, Alex Proyas' film tells the story of a man who awakens with no memory of who or where he is. The mystery deepens until the Big Reveal which is about a shocking as it gets.
10. American Beauty- This one get maligned a lot nowadays because it's become fashionable to say it was overrated. It's not. It's a perfect snapshot of late Nineties ennui and the acting and direction are as good as it gets.

Next up: Imperfect Movies that are Still Great

Vote for Me

 My short story, "Floorboards" is currently in the top 25 on Storybilder and you, you lucky person you, can vote for it by clicking this here hyperlink!

Thanks in Advance!

From Fascism to Pandemics, Mom Knew Best

 

For those too young to know, "V" was one of the most watched and discussed mini-series of the 1980s. Before Independence Day, this was the first time we witnessed giant mile-long spacecraft arriving over every major city simultaneously. However, instead of reigning death and destruction, they came as friends who needed our help. At least, that was how it seemed. 

In reality, the "Visitors" as they came to be called by the people of Earth, only appeared to be beautiful humanoids. They were, in fact, venom-spitting reptilian beings who saw us as a perfect food source. Not everyone knew this and many were willing to cooperate with what eventually became an allegory for Nazi Germany.

Characters we came to care about had their hearts broken by people they thought they could trust. An underclass comprised of Earth's scientists became the minority that needed to be controlled and censored lest they figure out the Visitors' secret. Soon there was even a youth group of makes in brown shirts acting as assistants to the orange-clad soldiers patrolling the streets. One such character even turns in his own grandfather, a concentration camp survivor.

During one of the times the mini-series was rerun on local TV, my mother and I got into a deep discussion about the people we knew and cared about and how we thought they would react in the same situation. It was a tough conversation because some of those people, individuals we loved, were also ones we knew would turn against us. Mom and I knew we wouldn't cooperate but we also knew we were related to people who would find their comfy lives more alluring than resistance. 

 I think about that conversation often. I wonder how she would have reacted to how COVID revealed so many true natures. I wonder if she would have been disappointed or if she would have just shaken her head in that knowing way she often employed when unpleasant things were confirmed.

It seems as if she was preparing me all those years ago for the moment when people would disappointment me on a level I'd never before experienced. I often think she prepared me too well, as it was nearly impossible for me to feel that way. Having observed the growing self-absorption in the U.S., almost nothing surprises me with the possible exception of lunatics calling medical workers "crisis actors." And that's the one thing "V" never addressed; how bone-chillingly stupid human beings can be.

So many people seem to have learned nothing as they continue coughing from their uncovered mouths into the air and clicking laughing emojis on scientifically vetted articles about viral spread. I think if COVID were an alien race, those of us who still mask up indoors would be targeted like the scientists in "V." If that day comes, I'm ready.

Thanks, Mom~

The Literal-Mindedness of Evangelicalism

 

"Why pay for movies when you can pay me?"

You would think someone who operates exclusively on faith would be able to grasp abstract concepts in lieu of being suffocatingly literal-minded. And while that is, perhaps, true of some true believers out there, it's not true of your typical Evangelical Christian. They don't view anything they believe as metaphorical or representative of some greater, impossible to define truth. They take it all at face value and, even worse, they project that mentality onto the rest of us.

Especially those of us who dare write fiction.

Recently, I saw a video clip of an Evangelical preacher admonishing people for watching horror movies. His bone of contention was that the films somehow convince us that the entities they feature are more powerful than they actually are when all one really needs is Christian faith to essentially stomp these beings into the ground for Jesus. This preacher went on to decry all horror films as an attempt to deceive people from the truth of the Gospel. That's all well and good. He can believe whatever he wants, but what he can't do is speak as an authority on something he clearly knows nothing about.

This certainly wasn't the first time a preacher arrogantly proclaimed his knowledge about the so-called "secular world" and it sadly isn't anywhere near to being the last. It's yet another in a long line of misconceptions uttered by someone who entire existence is informed by magical thinking. It's a fascinating contradiction to be both literal-minded and entirely lacking in logic, but when one's false sense of righteousness is backed up by the bubble they operate within, it is unavoidable. 

"We're lookin' for the guy that called us weak and defeated."

First off, horror is so much more than movies featuring demonic entities of the Judeo-Christian variety. There are several sub-genres, some of which don't include the supernatural at all. Secondly, the preacher's assertion that demons are defeated beings living under our feet is a provincial one at best. Not everyone believes that and not every culture's demons are former uppity angels who got their comeuppance. In some belief systems, angels are indeed equal to their counterparts. Thirdly, the preacher's woeful ignorance of the genre and its history is on full display because he has no idea what traditions are being drawn from. You think he knows about Lovecraft's Ancient Ones or Clive Barker's pleasure/torture vision of Hell? 

Most importantly, he misunderstands (whether intentionally or unintentionally) the entire point of horror, which is to provide much-needed catharsis for the audience watching it. Fear is only a bad thing if it's given more power than it deserves. By proclaiming all fictional horror part of some greater conspiracy to perpetrate a lie about Christian-centric demons, he stands revealed as little more than a peddler of ignorance desperately trying to understand a word that makes little sense to him otherwise. The sad part is there are millions of Americans are not only willing but also happy to follow along.

I can't think of anything more horrifying that that.

Why Your Jive Doesn't Jibe with the True Definition

 

The greatest gift social media has given us is the ability to know just how many people not only don't know what they're talking about more than half the time, but also the fact that they don't even know the correct words to use when they don't. Forget about misspellings, those run rampant these days. And with the absurd rationale that enforcement of good grammar is somehow based in colonialism or that it's a symbol of being old, don't except it to get much better. This post is all about usage.

Some of the ones that really grind my gears:

• All the Sudden
• Few Far and In-Between
• Should of/Would of
• Jive instead of Jibe

That last one is the source of all my pain and suffering, the very origin of all that is empty and wrong in the world and, possibly, the universe and its many multiversal equivalents. I will move on at the risk of indulging in hyperbole.

For whatever reason, many people tend to automatically turn unfamiliar words into familiar ones based on fascinatingly obtuse biases. For instance, "Few and Far Between" may make sense to those of us who possess a literary bent, but those who do not look at and see a phrase that looks incorrect. The term refers to something that rarely occurs. To add "in-between" is to create a phrase that no longer means that but sounds more like a description of physical location. To be fair, I'm not convinced that the people misusing the term don't also believe the latter meaning is the one that applies. The same is true for "Jive" vs. "Jibe."

According to the Chicago Tribune, "Jive means either a type of music or loose, meaningless chatter. Jibe means to be in accord; agree. To confuse matters, jibe also means to shift your sail from one side of the vessel to the other (sometimes spelled gybe). And gibe, which means to make taunting, heckling remarks, can also be spelled jibe."

So, if you're using "jive" to mean something doesn't go along with your beliefs or those of someone else, stop it. You look uneducated. 

I had someone who moderates a page on scientific accuracy argue with me about this. Discounting the inherent superiority analytical types feel when dealing with creative people, this is an individual who appears learned and to be a good researcher. Yet in this case, where language is often regarded as secondary to opinion, they relied on a single source and then tried to spin the incorrect usage itself. When that failed, they tried to say the original wrong definition was correct. No amount of proof seemed to sway them.

On second thought, if you wanna use "jive" to mean what it doesn't mean, have at it. Just try not to vote. Or Procreate. Or work with the public. Or run for office. 

Or become a pet owner.

It just wouldn't jive with what makes a well-rounded person~

Excerpt from "2012/21," the First-Draft-Completed-Editing-in-Progress-Novel

This is not where I truly belong. This is a nightmare of epic proportions, the kind of bad dream brought on by late night drinking and total despondency. 

The smell is the first thing to hit me, followed by the sight of bodies stacked as high as the eye can see. I shouldn’t be able to smell anything in this state and I for damn sure shouldn’t be able to handle such a smell without gagging. That means I’m being allowed to experience the stench of death and decay without becoming overpowered. Unlike me, the living walk around in those yellow containment suits you see in movies when there’s been some type of outbreak. 

Somewhere not too far away, somebody cries. It is impossible to tell the sex or age of the person because the despair they express transcends any of that. The grief stretches throughout the street as refrigerated trucks are loaded with body after body. The loaders aren’t even using gurneys, they’re just grabbing the dead people from both ends and tossing them inside the truck into the storage beds like sacks of wheat.

Someone yells, “Christ, Craig! This one’s still alive!”

I can’t see who said this or who they are talking about, but the flurry of activity points to one of the trucks further down the line. 

“What the fuck, Craig?” a female voice says. “How many times do I need to tell you to check them before you shuck them?”

Craig utters a sheepish, “Sorry.” 

That’s the last thing I hear before the scene shifts to what appears to be the outside of a hospital where, if I’m not mistaken, a group of angry people are brandishing protest signs and yelling at medical staff. What could these people have possibly done to incur such rage?

“Fucking crisis actor!” the big guy in the red baseball cap nearest me says, spit flying from his mouth.

The woman in scrubs standing like a statue before him wears a surgical mask and says nothing as he keeps accusing her of lying to the American people and calling her a pedophile.

Where the hell did that come from?

None of the medical folks are reacting to the angry men screaming in their faces like demented toddlers. It’s probably the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, except I don’t know what the hell is going on.

Where is my guide? I don’t care how hideous it is, I would welcome its presence right now. It would be far less nightmarish than what I’m witnessing from my fellow human beings. 

I decide to walk on, past the unmoving medical staff, past the angry, mostly unmasked protestors, past the news crews who are obviously eating all this shit up. I need sanity, peace, something that makes sense. I find the exact opposite on the next block.

Pamphlet-waving, saliva-spewing men and women beckoning all of us who pass by to come hear what they have to say. Most of them want us to sign their petitions for this group or against that group or for no group at all. They have markedly different beliefs but they all somehow sound the same. This whole scene feels less like reality and more like metaphor, but there’s a gritty realism to the whole affair that stubbornly keeps me from dismissing it as such.

Ignoring the shouting would-be activists, I glance to my right and stop dead in my tracks. On the side of an abandoned brick building, somebody has painted, in giant red letters: THE MAYANS WERE WRONG!

It’s all too much. I don’t feel myself hit anything when I pass out, but everything goes black

 

Excerpt from "This Evil Sky" a Novel-in-Progress

 Sleep does not come easy for a killer with a conscience. In fact, it remains ever elusive following a job. The more successful the job, the less likely there will be sleep. Alan is no exception to this rule, which is the only reason he isn’t rudely awakened by the pounding on his door. Throwing on a bathrobe and grabbing a nearby pistol, he walks to the front door of his apartment and stands off to the side as he gazes through the peephole. 

Wonderful. 

He opens it and breathes a heavy sigh.

Detective Moran. To what do I owe the displeasure?

The detective sneers and looks Alan up and down. Still awake, huh?

I’m a light sleeper.

Moran nods and asks if he can come in. Alan tells him he can, but may he?

Moran sneers again, his bearded face a mask of annoyance. How about we cut the crap?

(Shrugging) Fine. Let me just open my robe up nice and wide.

(Face contorted) Excuse you?

Well, if you’re gonna bust my balls as usual, I might as well grant total access.