It was during an outdoor double bill on the Reitz Student Union lawn. My cold, sudden introduction to the world of film director David Lynch was when I was a student at the University of Florida in Gainesville at the dawn of the ‘80s. That explains why McDonald’s, The Olive Garden and Starbucks are so beloved in 2018.Īs I read Friedman’s literary humor column, I substituted Wallace’s title with Thomas Pynchon’s “Gravity’s Rainbow” or James Joyce’s “Finnegan’s Wake.” Every generation that reads books has one. People these days are in love with routine. “Zone out when explanation is long and complicated.” Nobody is willing to do the work anymore if it requires thought and you don’t have to swipe left. Zone out when explanation is long and complicated.” Express love for book and subtly inquire what book was really about. Ensure that Times obituary mentions enduring passion for ‘Infinite Jest.’ Be buried with book.ġ8. Get to heaven despite lifetime of lies. Ask spouse to bring up devotion to text in eulogy. Skip ribbon-cutting ceremony to dodge questions.ġ7. On deathbed, position book on bedside table. “14. Start claiming to be on the third read.ġ5. Become novelist and frequently discuss monumental influence of Wallace on own work.ġ6. Use proceeds from own writing career to open literary foundation dedicated to hero, Wallace. That cliche about brevity is true.įriedman, though, turns to the impenetrable “Infinite Jest,” a comedy that is not supposed to be understood. How’s the water?’ And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes ‘What the hell is water?’” He started it with this parable: “There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says ‘Morning, boys. Most people know Wallace thanks to a short, pithy and meaningful graduation speech he gave to Kenyon College in 2005. No wonder it warrants its own humor column. “Infinite Jest” is the one with all the footnotes that wore out their welcome and wit fast. In the latest issue of The New Yorker, there is a humor column by the Emmy Award-nominated Claire Friedman about the novel “Infinite Jest” by the late writer David Foster Wallace. “Tommy” was “Tommy” until The Hillbenders nearly ruined everything by blabbing about it too much. I decided then and there to keep “Tommy” in its strange little box, even when friends went to the Broadway show and raved about it. It was still something of a mystery by the time Russell was done. Mercifully, the confused film did little in the department of a plot. When I saw director Ken Russell’s 1975 film version of “Tommy” – which featured everything from the eroticism of Ann-Margaret slathered in baked beans to the horrors of Jack Nicholson singing – I realized that my mother was right. The song “Christmas” is as repellent to my wife as "The Wedding Present" is to rednecks around Graceville. I played a hole in “Pinball Wizard,” a song I never need to hear again. Songs such as “Uncle Ernie,” “The Acid Queen” and “Sally Simpson” kind of frightened me but they were put into heavy rotation. I first heard about “the deaf, dumb and blind kid” on an eight-track tape in the early ‘70s. “Tommy” first entered my life as a small boy. After a few more “Tommy” tunes later, another member stepped up to the microphone and began talking about the plot progression. Let’s hear it for the Who-billies.įirst, the guitarist, who looked like Van Morrison of the Ozarks, began to tell the audience the storyline of “Tommy.” At first, I thought he was giving the other players a chance to catch their breath. The five musicians in The Hillbenders knew what they were doing. Who cared if one of the singers acted like he walked out of the musical cast for “Godspell.” One of the others stomped around the stage in overalls and mutton chops. They sure could pick.īesides the banjo and slide, there was a mandolin, a thump/doghouse bass and a regular acoustic guitar. The band members from the hilly part of Missouri have probably played their instruments once or twice judging by how comfortable they were with the sound. So, I kind of enjoyed “Tommy” with a twangy edge. I am willing to give anything a chance, though, besides fascism, Nazi pinheads and the Kardashians. Usually, I’m the guy who says this about bluegrass music: “Play the fast one. Went to see The Hillbenders do The Who’s rock opera “Tommy” in its entirety live on stage at Florida State last week.
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