Taco Bell Dads

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=htasoS8GWbc

Ostensibly this is a candid video of a Dad’s first trip to Taco Bell after six years in prison. The Dad complains that he can’t remember the name of what he has been craving for years. He remembers that it had ‘a soft shell and a hard shell’ (a strange and perhaps impossible duality). He cannot remember the name. In his haste he orders something other than what he craved. Beneath this seemingly banal exterior there lie deep philosophical statements about longing, the nature of justice, and identity, all reminiscent of Kafka’s The Trial.

The Father wants something with a name he cannot remember! The significance of this nameless longing becomes apparent when it is juxtaposed with the fact that throughout the narrative we never learn why the father has been incarcerated. His crime (real or imagined), the source of his yearning, even his name have been meticulously erased. The father is faceless, obscured by shadow, and the glare of the Taco bell lights. One wonders how justice could have been served; everything that ‘Dad’ was has been monstrously erased by the inexorable push of ‘traffic.’

Dad bemoans the fact that he thought he would have been able to ‘Go inside’ and ‘sit and figure out what it is he wanted.’ But there is no time. Dad has no agency; he politely accepts his meal and dives off into the darkness. He asks his son to ‘turn that camera off’ a thinly veiled reference to suicide.

What’s So Great About Your Fantasy?

For a long time I’ve felt guilty about loving comic books. Somewhere along the way I read something that described them as ‘Juvenile power fantasies’ and that struck a chord with me. I still loved the crap out of comic books, mind you, but there was this small critical voice in the back of my mind that kept saying, “You’re wasting your time! Why don’t you read some real literature?” So, in an effort to shut that little voice up, I did. I decided to read some of the most enduring literature ever composed by human beings. These are my summaries of the stories that have captivated us for thousands of years and that have been told and retold since the dawn of civilization.

The Epic of Gilgamesh: Gilgamesh, a psychologically complex man with strength beyond that of normal men, fights monsters, demons, and another man with incredible strength in this juvenile power fantasy.

The Iliad: Achilles, a psychologically complex man and the greatest warrior alive, tries to decide weather or not to fight in a war with the Trojans. When he finally does fight, he’s totally awesome and stabs a whole bunch of them in this Juvenile power fantasy.

The Mahabharata: A psychologically complex team of superhero brothers fight a war with their relatives in this Juvenile power fantasy.

Richie Rich: A kid has a lot of money, zaniness ensues.

Ok, so that last one is actually a comic book.

An Excerpt from Super Mario Bros. The Novel:

The sweat burned my eyes. Blinking hard I tried to focus. I needed to focus. Only a cold blooded creature could consider a castle full of lava as its home. My overalls felt like they weighed a ton. My movements were all in slow motion. Even my mustache was drenched through. As the heat pressed in from all sides I wanted to give up. From the glint in his red eyes I could tell that's what he was waiting for. If it was just me maybe it would have been O.K. to just curl up and die, but she was counting on me, her and the entire Mushroom Kingdom. If he had laid one hand upon her soft flaxen hair so help me I would...

Damn. I had let my mind wander and he had seen it. A toothy grin spread across Bowser's face as he exhaled. The flaming expulsion from his bowels hurled towards me. He was gloating already that bastard. This was my chance. I summoned all the strength I had left and blindly leapt forward. With my eyes squeezed shut, I felt the intense heat of the fireball pass beneath my feet. I just might do it. I forced my eyes open. Seeing that look on Bowser's face invigorated me more than a thousand cold showers. He knew that death had finally come for him. I started to descend. My thick steel toed boots made contact with the vile lizard's skull. My full weight slammed his head into the stonework bridge. With a sickening crunch it was over. Bowser was dead. There was no time to celebrate or to consider how I was going to wash the reptile brains from my overalls, a crack had formed where we had landed and it was starting to splinter the walkway. I ran. The stones behind me fell away. I heard the sizzle from Bowser's corpse hitting the lava but I did not stop. I ran. I saw her face again. My princess. I jumped as the last piece of the bridge gave way.

My fingers clutched the shiny handle of an ax stuck into the ground at the edge of the precipice. My feet dangled over the remnants of the bridge sinking into the red hot lava. The sweat on my hands was already making my grip falter. I quickly pulled myself up. I pulled the ax out of its mount and carried it with me to the door that lay ahead. With one swing I splintered the lock and pushed the door open. I cool breeze escaped from the darkness with in the cell.

In the corner was a huddled mass. I approach delicately, becoming fully aware of my own stench and filth. I was just an plumber from Brooklyn. How could I even think she could love me? But no, the dirt that stained my clothes, that was from battling the tyrants that had enslaved her people. I reeked of a man fighting to free the woman he loved. She would understand. She always did. Just to touch that hair again. I reach forward. "Princess?" The figure gazed up at me with a thankful but saddened look. "Thank you Mario. But our princess is in another castle!"