Everybody knows about the American dream, and lots of time has been spent debating about whether or not there is a specific American dream. The American dream been narrowed down to being rich and famous. That’s it. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that their idea of the American dream is being rich and famous.
Boy, it sure would be great to be rich and famous, wouldn’t it? Having all the money you’ll ever need, being able to buy anything you want, and having people approach you on the street to tell you how awesome you are? Sound great? Sure. But there’s one major drawback that can emerge from the American dream, and that is, the American nightmare. Okay, I made it up, but if you think about it, the American nightmare is very real. I’ll explain. When you sleep, you dream, and if it goes wrong and becomes scary, unpleasant, or downright embarrassing, it’s a nightmare. When being rich and famous isn’t enough to keep you happy when a problem arises, you’re living the American nightmare. It can only arise when rich and/or famous, because you can’t have a nightmare without dreaming.
There are many examples of the American nightmare. They’re everywhere. You ever read those old murder mysteries? The ones where some rich guy or rich girl is killed, probably by poisoned tea, and the disillusioned detective gradually reveals that the butler did it? That’s the American nightmare summed up metaphorically. Chances are, unless you’re rich enough to have a butler, he won’t be the killer if you are murdered. But if you are rich enough, you’d better watch yourself.
In a way, being rich and famous is a nightmare in itself. You have the paparazzi on a ceaseless quest to destroy your life with “incriminating” photos, and if you make one mistake, the press is all over you. You become a laughing stock. Look at Tom Cruise. One of the richest, most famous people on the planet, and everyone hates him because he’s a Scientologist. Not to mention, when he and his rich and famous wife gave birth to their daughter, the press wouldn’t leave them alone.
The definition of a disturbing American nightmare comes with Anna Nicole Smith’s death. How scary is the idea that if you’re rich and famous, and die with an illegitimate kid, that nobody would care about you, but instead be entertained by the media circus surrounding the baby’s mysterious father? It also creates a lot of trouble for the baby. Some day that kid will be a teenager, and find out that he was the subject of a large media phenomenon. How embarrassing. Being the spawn of Anna Nicole Smith, that’s worse than “naked in a dream” embarrassed.
Nightmares are often synonymous with ghosts, ghouls, witches, and the undead. While generally, the American nightmare only involves things that are very possible, a brilliant 19th century horror author, Edgar Allan Poe, painted a literal picture of the American nightmare. His stories usually involve people who are rich, often of royalty which renders them famous, who if they somehow manage to make it out of the situations alive, suffer fates worse than death. And many of them involve the supernatural. Take “The Masque of the Red Death” for instance (okay the story isn’t set in America, but it’s a great example of what the American nightmare could be). In the story, a horrific plague called the Red Death is sweeping the nation, and a rich, famous prince believes he could keep people safe. He organizes a fun, rich person’s masquerade ball within the “safe” confines of his castle, and everything goes great. However, you could suppose that the Red Death was pretty pissed off at the abundance of fun, safety, and the high decibel level of the clock chimes. The Red Death himself ends up crashing the party and laying waste to it. Only a rich person could have organized something as formal and fun as that particular masquerade ball, and everything goes wrong in ways beyond any human imagination, with the exception of Edgar Allen Poe, who, to put it nicely, was seriously in need of professional help, or at least whatever qualified as professional back then.
Also qualifying as American dream monsters are talk show hosts. You become a subject of a joke in one of their monologues, you officially are living the American nightmare, because you obviously did something to deserve it. As far as the American dream goes, they are totally lucid. They are in control of the quality of their lives. As long as they don’t get jacked by the IRS, or get killed, they have little if any chance of being made a fool of. That’s because it’s their job to make fools of people. “Mad” magazine is the only thing that could touch them, but (unfortunately) nobody reads “Mad,” so they’re safe.
The American dream is often described as being poor, or simply not very well off, and becoming rich and famous, or simply very well off. And that depiction of the American nightmare is well summed up in the classic, epic novel “Les Miserables.” Also, not American, but just that has nothing to do with this.
In the book, a man named Jean Valjean is poor, starving, and unfortunate enough to live in a world where stealing a loaf of bread is such a horrible offense that it warrants a five-year prison sentence. He learns this the hard way. After serving his sentence, plus an extra fifteen years for trying to run, he skips out on his parole and manages to achieve the impossible, by becoming the mayor of a small town, and being rich and famous. This is where the fame part bites him. An inspector, who guarded him in prison, has nothing better to do than spend his life chasing a man who skipped being paroled for bread theft. I’d hate to see what the book would have been like if Valjean had committed murder.
What this says is that fame brings the past back to haunt you. If you did something horrible to a person that only you and that person know about, watch out if you become famous, because your chances of being blackmailed are very high, especially if you’re rich. In Valjean’s case, he just had the rotten luck of being born in the worst possible time and place to be poor.
The American nightmare is tragically common among most people living the American dream. In fact, everything you just read is a lot of words for the overall point; fame and fortune isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Aside from being widely loved and recognized, and being able to buy whatever you want, more bad can come out of it than good. And sometimes, the bad doesn’t even need to be a direct result of fame and fortune. Look at “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” If you haven’t seen that show, stop reading and go watch all the episodes right now. Anyway, the main character, Larry David (creator of “Seinfeld”) is rich and famous, but his life sucks simply due to the worst luck imaginable.
If being rich and famous is living the American dream, then the American dream is a truly painful and difficult thing. You just might be better off living an average life. Now I’m going to go to bed and think of ideas for a screenplay so I can write it and sell it for a fortune.

Matt Thomas

Language Arts 11

10-4-07

Two Years, Two Months, Two Weeks, and Two Days Later…

            Henry David Thoreau once pulled off something amazing. He made a vow to live in the woods near Walden Pond for exactly two years, two months, two weeks, and two days. He succeeded. This adventure resulted in one of the most fascinating, hypnotic, yet ultimately sleep-inducing books ever written. One where you’re so engrossed in what he has to say that you don’t want to fall asleep, but you can’t help it. Amazing stuff. Anyway, Thoreau inspired me to do the same (besides the writing part; I’m far too lazy for that). If living in the woods will give me a better understanding of society, then I’m already there, because I could really use a better understanding of society.

            First things first, I am going to one-up Thoreau in my quest. I’m going to stay in the woods for two years, two months, two weeks, two days, two hours, two minutes, two seconds, and two milliseconds. Meaning when my time is nearly up, I’d better haul ass out of the woods. Wouldn’t want to end up staying a few seconds over the preset time, or everything will be ruined. Anyway, I will now go over what I will do once I’m out there.

            Food and water are obviously the number one priority. I’d bring a truckload of food. It would mostly be crap, seeing as how disgusting healthy stuff is. As with water, there’s more than enough in the rivers and lakes all over the woods to live off. Rather than blow money on Costco 24-packs of “purified” water, I’d rather save money, and go with what nature gives me. Besides, there are plenty of places to vomit in the woods.

            I’d also bring a few weapons. A gun and a large hunting knife. In case I get sick of junk food and find myself craving bush meat. That won’t happen though. I’m picky enough as it is.

            In case I found myself in need of a good thrill, I’d bring a portable DVD player, and a copy of The Blair Witch Project (how anyone could find that movie NOT scary is beyond me). Not only would it give me a good adrenaline rush during the night, but I’d also find myself paying more attention to the random sounds I heard in the woods, and analyzing them (just like Thoreau did). I’d learn a lot about the nature of sound, determining which ones are good, bad, and irrelevant. However, the terror that movie brings out tends to keep me up for days, so to wear down from it, I’d also bring a copy of the film’s crappy sequel, the pointlessly named Book of Shadows, which in addition to being unintentionally hilarious, also makes the stupid mistake of openly acknowledging the fictional nature of it’s predecessor.

            The problem with this excursion would be that I’m not philosophical. Henry David Thoreau managed to make his a success story due to his excessive deep thinking. Me, all I can think about is movies. Movie reviews, actors, directors, the emotions they bring out in me… It’s all movies. Movies aren’t a big part of my personality. Movies are my personality. As a result of this, rather than going through the grueling process of describing a single tree in three or more pages, I’d make a documentary about the adventure. Just take a bunch of random footage of me doing random stuff in the woods, as well as random images of the woods themselves. I’d then edit it together using various transitions, color filters, and maybe some voice over detailing how I felt at certain times. I’d have crafted the next masterpiece. It could either be known as a philosophical work of art, or if I had some encounters with angry bears or psychotic cavemen, it could be the next big horror movie.

            How this will give me a better understanding of society, I have yet to learn. Let’s just hope for the sake of my social life that it does.

Matt Thomas

Language Arts 11

9/31/07

Rip Van Winkle in 2007

I awoke from a rather lengthy nap, surprisingly, without Dame interfering. Then something struck me. I remembered that Dame was dead. This was really weird. If I had slept for less than five years, I’d have remembered that. That means I overslept again. As I pulled out of my daze, I looked around and noticed that I was behind bars. It was a jail cell. I’d been there numerous times for loitering, so I didn’t care. What made me really uncomfortable about the place was the huge man who was in the bed right next to me. I called to the guard, who wore a completely different uniform than they had however many years ago I fell asleep. I called over to the man and asked him what year it was. He laughed and said, “Way beyond your years, old guy.” I told him I was serious, and he responded “This is the year that you die if you don’t shut up.”

I waited until the guy was asleep to devise my escape, seeing as how that guard was no help. However, the place was so secure, there was no way to get out. I spent all night wondering where I was, and how I was going to get out. The next morning, another guard came by, opened the door, and said “Okay old man. You’re awake, you’re free to go.” I figured, “what the heck.” They said I can go, I might as well go.

Outside looked different. There were these four-wheeled, horseless carriages, all over the place. You couldn’t look any direction without seeing one of these. I figured this year was well before 1984, because I had slept till the 1940’s recently and managed to read that George Orwell book, and what that book predicted had at least twenty years before it found it’s way into this society. After I read that, I fell right back asleep. But still, I must have been asleep for a much shorter amount of time than I thought, which wouldn’t explain why I didn’t remember Dame’s death.

I saw a little shack that was selling newspapers. The print sure had improved since my time. And they had pictures in it. Real pictures, not paintings or illustrations. The headline read “Crazy Old Man Awakens From 70 Year Slumber in Central Park.” And the picture was of me. I was asleep against a tree, and several little kids were posed around me. I had become what was apparently called a “tourist attraction.”

This place really started to scare me. I got dirty looks everywhere I went. I wasn’t helped by having a beard that was longer than I was. Not to mention I hadn’t bathed in seventy years, but that’s beside the point. I was grotesque in appearance. Oh well. What are you gonna do. You look bad, you look bad. The place was scarier when I considered the fact that the buildings were so tall you couldn’t even see the tops. In my old village, you could get to the top of buildings in one hop. Then again, how high can you make buildings made out of wood?

I continued down the street, and wandered near a building called “Broadway.” And when I got there, everybody turned to me. These people looked a lot smarter than the one’s I’d seen so far. They stared at me wide eyed, and one man shouted “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” Wow. Déjà vu. Why is it that I become a phenomenon everywhere I go? I just sleep for a few years like I always do, and everyone acts as if they’d just seen a ghost. Well, I didn’t want any more of this attention, so I ran out of there, hiding in a dark space between two buildings.

Sure enough, someone else was there. And this man didn’t even look like he knew his own name. The man offered me a bag of what appeared to be dried lawn trimmings. I had no idea what he wanted me to do with it, but being as courteous as I was, I asked him how much it cost. He said it was two hundred dollars. I freaked out at him. Only rich people had two hundred dollars in my time, and why would I buy lawn trimmings with it?

That must have made the guy very mad. Because the last thing I remember, I was staggering back to central park, with a large painful lump on my head. This place was absolutely horrible. I hoped as I passed out that I would come across a more simple time when I awoke. I guess I’ll find out in a few years.

The Perfect American

The following is in response to a very interesting article I saw the other day. I was doing my usual aimless internet surfing, and came across an article on a magazine website, the name of which escapes me, and there was a reader poll about who the best American was. One of the top three came as quite a surprise. The first one was Abraham Lincoln. The third one was Benjamin Franklin. The one in between, who lost to Honest Abe, and beat out the man who discovered electricity, was Homer Simpson.
Now you may be asking yourself, how does a sitcom character beat out two men who actually helped make this country what it is. The thing is though, is that if you take the poll hypothetically, and really give it thought, you’d realize how accurate the results really are. Homer Simpson (again, hypothetically), is one of the greatest Americans. I’ll tell you why.
First of all, he’s a sitcom character. Sitcom characters always manage to resolve everything that goes wrong. And even better, he’s a character in an animated sitcom, therefore allowing endless possibilities as to what he can do. And before you go mentioning Family Guy, or whatever other show you might compare the Simpsons too. Peter Griffin may be similar to Homer in more ways than one, but the point is, Homer’s stupidity doesn’t get in the way of him succeeding. Peter’s a loser, plain and simple (albeit, a damn funny loser). Homer, has accomplished more in his laziness and stupidity than any intelligent man has in the real world.
Homer has been to space. He’s won a Grammy. He’s led a successful strike, served as the mayor’s bodyguard, and even beat up former President Bush (which from what I understand, automatically makes him a great American). The guy’s done it all. All the big things a person could possibly want, and not to mention, one hell of an impressive job resume. Homer’s been everything, from the sanitation commissioner, to executive producer of Mel Gibson’s remake of “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” He does all this, and still manages to find the time to drink copious amounts of beer, and warm the couch in front of the TV for hours. And once in a while, work at being a decent father.
That’s another thing about Homer. You’d have to be a damn good American to have a woman as fine as Marge be willing to stay with you in the midst of all the chaos that you create. Okay, being American has little, if anything to do with that, but it certainly adds to Homer. Only a real good man would be able to hold such an unlikely relationship together with his intelligence, or lack thereof. That goes with raising kids too. Okay, Bart is a total failure, and Maggie is a rebellious sociopath (only true Simpsons fans know what I mean). But Lisa is different. While most second graders are smarter than Homer, Lisa is a genius. She is self-taught of course, seeing as how Marge is too busy dealing with Homer’s antics, and Homer is too busy executing them, but most kids like Lisa would have already cracked under that situation and turned to drugs to ease the pain. Lisa is still only in second grade, and many people would say “wait till high school,” but come on. How many people develop genius IQs when they’re only in second grade? Actually, Homer has little to do with this, and truly does suck as a father. However, even an intelligent man would have trouble keeping his kids on the right track, so Homer gets an added bonus on that note.
Homer Simpson isn’t a smart man. Nor is he a particularly respectable man. However, he is a man who knows how to solve problems (even if it means consulting others to do so), and a man with this much experience has to be acknowledged as a great American. Homer is the man to turn to if you find yourself in a rough spot. Granted, his advice would suck, but he gives off the message “if a dumbass like him can get himself out of that, then anyone can.” And inspiration, my friends, is a great message to give off. The one thing that truly sets Abe Lincoln above him is that Abe freed the slaves. One of the greatest things ever done. And Ben Franklin may have had moral value, but what made him great was boring, and his teachings inspired people to become prudish pushovers. God bless America, and God bless Homer Simpson.

Note: What you have just read is for comedic purposes only, and not to be taken seriously. Anybody who truly believes Homer Simpson is a better American than Ben Franklin is a freak of nature. Screw magazine polls.

The Perfect American

The following is in response to a very interesting article I saw the other day. I was doing my usual aimless internet surfing, and came across an article on a magazine website, the name of which escapes me, and there was a reader poll about who the best American was. One of the top three came as quite a surprise. The first one was Abraham Lincoln. The third one was Benjamin Franklin. The one in between, who lost to Honest Abe, and beat out the man who discovered electricity, was Homer Simpson.
Now you may be asking yourself, how does a sitcom character beat out two men who actually helped make this country what it is. The thing is though, is that if you take the poll hypothetically, and really give it thought, you’d realize how accurate the results really are. Homer Simpson (again, hypothetically), is one of the greatest Americans. I’ll tell you why.
First of all, he’s a sitcom character. Sitcom characters always manage to resolve everything that goes wrong. And even better, he’s a character in an animated sitcom, therefore allowing endless possibilities as to what he can do. And before you go mentioning Family Guy, or whatever other show you might compare the Simpsons too. Peter Griffin may be similar to Homer in more ways than one, but the point is, Homer’s stupidity doesn’t get in the way of him succeeding. Peter’s a loser, plain and simple (albeit, a damn funny loser). Homer, has accomplished more in his laziness and stupidity than any intelligent man has in the real world.
Homer has been to space. He’s won a Grammy. He’s led a successful strike, served as the mayor’s bodyguard, and even beat up former President Bush (which from what I understand, automatically makes him a great American). The guy’s done it all. All the big things a person could possibly want, and not to mention, one hell of an impressive job resume. Homer’s been everything, from the sanitation commissioner, to executive producer of Mel Gibson’s remake of “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” He does all this, and still manages to find the time to drink copious amounts of beer, and warm the couch in front of the TV for hours. And once in a while, work at being a decent father.
That’s another thing about Homer. You’d have to be a damn good American to have a woman as fine as Marge be willing to stay with you in the midst of all the chaos that you create. Okay, being American has little, if anything to do with that, but it certainly adds to Homer. Only a real good man would be able to hold such an unlikely relationship together with his intelligence, or lack thereof. That goes with raising kids too. Okay, Bart is a total failure, and Maggie is a rebellious sociopath (only true Simpsons fans know what I mean). But Lisa is different. While most second graders are smarter than Homer, Lisa is a genius. She is self-taught of course, seeing as how Marge is too busy dealing with Homer’s antics, and Homer is too busy executing them, but most kids like Lisa would have already cracked under that situation and turned to drugs to ease the pain. Lisa is still only in second grade, and many people would say “wait till high school,” but come on. How many people develop genius IQs when they’re only in second grade? Actually, Homer has little to do with this, and truly does suck as a father. However, even an intelligent man would have trouble keeping his kids on the right track, so Homer gets an added bonus on that note.
Homer Simpson isn’t a smart man. Nor is he a particularly respectable man. However, he is a man who knows how to solve problems (even if it means consulting others to do so), and a man with this much experience has to be acknowledged as a great American. Homer is the man to turn to if you find yourself in a rough spot. Granted, his advice would suck, but he gives off the message “if a dumbass like him can get himself out of that, then anyone can.” And inspiration, my friends, is a great message to give off. The one thing that truly sets Abe Lincoln above him is that Abe freed the slaves. One of the greatest things ever done. And Ben Franklin may have had moral value, but what made him great was boring, and his teachings inspired people to become prudish pushovers. God bless America, and God bless Homer Simpson.

Note: What you have just read is for comedic purposes only, and not to be taken seriously. Anybody who truly believes Homer Simpson is a better American than Ben Franklin is a freak of nature. Screw magazine polls.

Matt Thomas

Language Arts 11

9/13/07

Those Damned Movies…

            This is the case of everyone who has ever had a supernatural thought; you are all doomed. Anyone who has so much as considered the idea of magic, even thought of, spoke, or wrote the word “magic,” you are all so damned you don’t even know it. Hell is your destiny. Consider your flesh already melting away in the flames, as you have angered the lord God beyond forgiveness. In other words, everyone’s going to hell, because who the hell hasn’t fantasized about flying, or having superpowers. God will not tolerate that, and those who preach it, revel in the idea of it, or simply engage in it out of curiosity are destined for an eternity in the black pit.

            Those who preach witchcraft, science fiction, science in general, or worlds besides God’s green earth, heaven, or the place you’re all going, hell; you are the worst of God’s creatures. He loathes you, and he loathes himself for creating you; he wishes he could pull an “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and just erase you from his all powerful memory. Alas, he can’t do that, so he will simply turn you over to the black beast who is Lucifer. He will deal with you in ways the lord is too much of a baby to do himself. You have made the lord suicidal by your fantasies. And in hell, you will feel all the hurt, humiliation, and jealousy that you have caused him. And with the lord being that massive, infallible being that he is, that’s a lot of freakin’ pain, o sinner. But you brought it on yourself with that blasphemy.

The lord has specifically condemned those who go by the names JK Rowling, and George Lucas. By now, JRR Tolkein most definitely wishes he had never written those blasphemous Lord of the Rings books, as he is certainly suffering in Hell, with a long eternity before him; that’s right, longer than those evil, blasphemous movies based on his evil, blasphemous books full of lies.

            George Lucas shall suffer most greatly at the hands of the most vengeful lord! As his extensively worshipped science fiction series mirrors the Holy Bible in more ways than one. The only thing God despises more than false worlds not of his own, is when they are portrayed as if they were a testament to his plan! O sinners who partake in Lucas’s blasphemy, you are all but insects walking on an ant hill, with the burning heat waiting to catch up with you and make you burn for your sins of partaking in such drivel.

            Magic is not of the lord’s ways and you shall all endure hell (literally) as a result of your participation in it. To enjoy or fantasize about unholy entertainment is to drop thy pants and unleash a steaming pile of s**t on the lord’s doorstep. And on that note, JK Rowling has done it by chugging seven giant bottles of laxative. You hear that JK, o sinner? You have crapped on the lord! The shameless depiction of broom riding and graphic wand waving in your blasphemous, albeit highly entertaining and well written books, has left a bad taste in his mouth, and as punishment, he will vomit you into the bowels of hell!

            When you are in hell you shall be shown no mercy. Those who I named will be living in hell’s penthouse. The devil may condone the acts of which you have committed to bring this on you, but he delights in the torture and pain that he will inflict on you, and even your bringing of magic into the world won’t end his wrath. And your screams for help shall be ignored by him, as he flips you the middle finger and says “told you so, you sinful jackass!”

 Have a nice eternity in the fiery pit.

My Version of the American Dream

The American dream is something that is debated over constantly, as if there was a specific one. People usually refer to getting rich and famous as the American dream, and the majority of people would argue that that is the truth. However, the American dream is nothing more than a myth. There is no specific American dream, although lazy people have narrowed it down to getting rich and famous. And most people won’t even answer beyond rich and famous. That’s pretty much it. The answer might as well be that their whole family could be brutally killed right in front of them, but as long as they were rich and famous, they’re cool with that.
I have come up with MY vision of the “American dream”. It may reflect others’ visions, but I am writing about my American dream. Yes it does involve being rich and famous, but that’s not what it all comes down to. I’m going to admit to being a total hypocrite here. However, I want to be rich and famous for some very specific reasons, and currently won’t settle for anything else. There are many things that can get you rich and famous, but that you wouldn’t be happy doing. This is what would make me happy.
The first thing would be for me to make a movie. And not some big, loud, blow-the-hell-out-of-everything-in-sight action blockbuster that’s all about the star and the special effects. I mean, you ask anybody about Mission Impossible 3, the only name involved with that that they’d know is Tom Cruise. Nobody cares who directed those movies, as in, made the movies everything they were. No. A movie where the star gets all the credit is not what I’m out for. I’m talking about a FILM. A real film, one that stirs up some controversy, makes a big scene at a film festival, or simply one where the careful direction and methodic pace upstage even the biggest stars. I mean look at Pulp Fiction. John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Bruce Willis, Christopher Walken. These stars are all box-office gold, and when Pulp Fiction comes into a conversation, the first person to get mentioned is Quentin Tarantino. It also stirred up controversy and made a big scene at a film festival, but when you watch it, you aren’t watching a Bruce Willis movie. You’re watching a Quentin Tarantino film. And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. If I got Tom Cruise in on one of my movies, it wouldn’t be considered a Tom Cruise movie. It would be referred to as a Brian Scott film (I use my middle name on my movies).
Once that movie made it big in theaters, I’d use the money to buy a beautiful house in the Hollywood hills. To be honest, I am not satisfied with my life so far having not grown up there. Currently, I can’t picture myself living anywhere besides that place (or a crappy apartment in Venice Beach if I decided I want to save a little money). Most people would buy a sports car, or at least a really fancy car overall, but not me. The cooler or more luxury a car is, the lower their gas mileage is, and a gas guzzler isn’t worth it no matter how much money you have. They’re just for show. They look cool, and sure they go faster, but where the hell in America is it legal to drive 200 mph anyway? No. A nice Honda Civic (which I currently have), which gets great mileage, is moderately classy, and gets me where I need to go with nice simplicity would do just fine.
I want to get married, and looks aren’t my top priority when it comes to who I marry. As long as she respects my decisions and doesn’t turn into the stereotypical nagging wife you always hear about in redneck comedy, she’ll be fine by me. I won’t go into details now, because I don’t aim for that to happen for a long time, and who knows where my views on that might go.
The topic of kids is an interesting one. The idea of having three kids is apparently synonymous with the American dream, and if that is really what it is, then the whole idea of the American dream is nearly irrelevant to me. I only want one kid. I want to keep my family’s legacy going, but one thing I’ve always had trouble doing is sharing love. If I had more than one kid, I’d find myself picking favorites between them whether I wanted to or not. I want my kid to worship me the way I worship my parents. And it would be a lot easier to pull that off with just one kid.
Those are the biggest details I can truly provide. And to be honest, those pretty much sum it up. If my movies make enough money, I’ll pretty much have nothing going on (save for a few talk-shows and guest appearances), and when I’m not spending time with the wife and kid, I’ll buy copious amounts of DVDs and spend half the night watching two or three movies. Kevin Smith (my personal hero) summed up my dream perfectly when he said “I’m extremely lazy, but sometimes I make flicks.” The comedic masterpiece that is Office Space also sums it up, when the main character said that if he had a million dollars, he’d do nothing. And it makes sense. If you had so much money you wouldn’t need to worry about it, you could pretty much do nothing, and still have plenty of it. That is what I’d be happy doing. I’m at my happiest when I’m sitting around watching movies and eating junk food (most of my money might go into a hospital fund strictly for this purpose).
While the average American states that the American dream is simply getting rich and famous, most of them have no idea what they’d want to do if they did achieve that (aside from buying a big house and a fancy car), let alone how they intend to achieve it. That I think, is why the American dream is considered to mean getting rich and famous, because that’s what it’s narrowed down to. But if everyone took five minutes to put their idea of the American dream on a very detailed paper, people would realize that the American dream doesn’t exist, because it’s always something different, no matter how common the big picture with it is.
By the way, I’ve got to add something. Many people say that Ozzie and Harriet sums up the American dream, but that is not true. It sums up the American stereotype. It depicts where people end up if the whole “rich and famous” thing doesn’t work out completely as planned. I’m just saying, I don’t think the American “dream” is capable of causing a midlife crisis. If I lived like Ozzie and Harriet, only then would I buy a sports car.

The End.