I obsess about the weirdest things sometimes. Essentially since waking up yesterday afternoon the only song I’ve wanted to listen to was Elvis Presley’s Suspicious Minds. I just keep listening to it. Over and over again. Initially I didn’t even know what song it was; I had the tune stuck in my head but for the life of me couldn’t come up with a single lyric. The solution? Frantically downloading every Elvis song I could find and skipping through them until I finally found the one I needed so badly. The odd part about all of this being that I don’t think I’ve ever purposely sought out an Elvis Presley song to listen to. Fuck me, I’m not even sure how I came up with this song to begin with; I’m keen on proclaiming latent psychic prowess but feel it might be somewhat premature. Or at the least manifested in a stupidly useless way – baring that life-or-death scenario where someone, anyone must think of and secure an Elvis song they may or may not have heard before and find it thus deterring a terrorist plot and saving the day leading to a massive celebration and hardy handshakes with top military brass and the girl finally being won for the unlikely hero and the roaring 80’s song as the credits start to roll so that no one in the audience has to see what happens 15 minutes later when everyone stops caring and remembers why said hero was so unlikely and leave him alone to wallow in his past glory while slowly killing himself at the bar – that would be a depressing story and not the proper fodder for summer blockbusters; even if George Clooney is somehow convinced to be a part of it all…On that note no one go see Michael Clayton, unless you like sitting around for 2 hours wondering what the fuck is the point of this movie and when is something – anything – going to happen that I even remotely care about and then just having it end for no real reason. There are literally horses running about for NO FUCKING REASON. It would make more sense if those horses could talk, because then we might’ve gotten some reasonable exposition, but nooooo that’s asking too fucking much of Tom Gilroy it would seem. What the fuck am I talking about?
Right, so I obsess over rather weird things at times. Somewhere during the whole Suspicious Minds on repeat thing my mind wandered from the usual combination of painful reminiscing, inner monologue, and weird anime fantasies where I’m generally some form of ninja to envisioning an ultimate Elvis showdown – a post-apocalyptic brawl between Elvis Presley and Elvis Costello. It would have to take place in an old Vegas lounge – now the castle throne of the King and would involve Costello cutting his way through King’s legions of mutant followers before a final climatic battle that would rage for eternity; Essentially Ragnarok, only rocking more capes and rhinestones. Suspicious Minds is of course the theme du jour as I feel it adequately mirrors the clashing of titans locked in epic everlasting combat. Did I mention they fight armed only with katanas and flourish? That’s important. Anyways, I’ve yet to develop a motive for Costello’s journey, suffice to say that this duel is preceded by him fighting and singing his way across the desert ruins of society – not entirely unlike Resident Evil: Apocalypse which is another movie no one should go see – struggling against the cannibalistic mutant survivors in order to reach the King and engage him in glorious battle. And before you say anything, this is a Reagan era commie fearing apocalyptic future, so the culprit is obviously NUCLEAR WAR and not some pussy modern day people-ender like GLOBAL WARMING (Ooooooh! The scariness that is gradual temperature increases…in 30 years I might not need quite so heavy a jacket come winter!). Moreover, NUCLEAR WAR always results in cannibalistic mutant survivors (it’s a well documented fact) and I believe Elvis Costello to be the best man for eradicating them.
The movie version I think should star Jake Gyllenhaal as Elvis Costello. It’s a bold move, I know, but I’m going for a darker, jaded Donnie Darko Costello here and it gives me an excuse to have my man crush wear buddy holly glasses and fuck people up with a katana. Bruce Campbell would obviously reprise his role as the King (and if you don’t know who Bruce Campbell is I hate you, and if you didn’t know he was ever Elvis Presley I compel you to go buy Bubba Ho-Tep and learn the error of your ways) and automatically it becomes the manliest film ever conceived let alone made. If Clive fucking Turner were to direct it I feel the world might end due to an awesome overload. That would be an entirely cannibalistic mutant-free apocalypse world, by the way, but I’d like to think would feature ninjas and pirates fighting in Napoleonic grandeur. And maybe a robot army or two.
edit: I decided on the title after writing all this, and now I can't stop laughing because I keep envisioning the robot chicken Admiral Ackbar yelling "it's a trap!" and then his cereal: "your tongues can not repel flavor of that magnitude!" Also, I'm delighted that I was able to get the title in italics.
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