I Have Found the Cure for Writer’s Block (Spoiler Alert: It’s Billy Joel)

You think I’m joking, but the empirical data that I have compiled anecdotally indicates that my hypothesis is sound. In other words, I couldn’t think of anything to write about today and then ‘My Life’ came on and now I’m writing like a man on a mission.
For those of you who don’t speak Smart, I’ll put this in layman’s terms: Billy Joel’s music makes thoughts happen in your thinky-noodle. Now, I’m not going to speculate as to why this is. Okay, a little. Perhaps it’s the fact that his music is so deeply engrained in the collective American consciousness of those born in the Eighties or sooner. Perhaps it is because you can understand all of the words he is saying - unlike most of the music that I normally listen to – and, consequently, the brain begins to absorb the (not generally all that complicated, deep or interesting) lyrical content of his tunes. Frankly, it doesn’t matter one bit. I’m writing right now and that’s good enough for me. I thought that all I was going to get done today was round after round of Battlefield 3 online.

Clearly, I know what you are thinking - because I have a superior thinky-noodle machine in my head cave: you want to know WHY I am listening to Billy Joel and you naturally have assumed that it is because he is towards the top of my iTunes list because his name starts with a B and you think that I’m too lazy to make it down to B, much less Y.

Hey, I bet you cannot think of a band name that begins with Y! Go ahead. Try…

You thought of the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs because you are a closet hipster from 2005, but you should have thought of Yes. Only people with superior thinky-noodles like prog. This is a scientific fact.

The real reason that I have chosen to listen to Billy Joel is much more disturbing. It’s because of that god-awful looking new TV show that I just saw an advertisement for that appears to be a direct and shameless rip-off of Bosom Buddies, the show that launched Tom Hanks to stardom and his co-star to such lofty cinematic heights as… err… let’s pull up the IMDB here. Standby…

THE VOICE OF THE LIMO DRIVER ON AMERICAN DAD! Fuck you, Tom. You ain’t so special.

I know I’ve complained about this before, that Hollywood is basically a vacuum of creativity and has been for the last fifteen years or so when remakes became the norm and original screenplays that really weren’t all that original began to be hailed as staggering genius. If you seek proof of this, magically transport yourself back to 2005 when Crash, the most face-palmingly preachy pile of drivel to ever reach such collectively positive critical consensus, won Best Picture at the Oscars.
The problem is not simply that I am jaded. The problem is that original thoughts in Hollywood are generally considered to be the opposite of profit-making potential. This is why we all have to be bombarded with remakes and with movies packed full of recognizable faces so that the drooling masses will get up off their couches and pay seventy five dollars to sit in a smelly theater chair as opposed to waiting for the steaming pile of film-reel to become a series of ones and zeroes streamed via coaxial cable into the idiot box for free or for five dollar PPV purchase. Why else would there be another GI Joe movie coming out? And, as current evidence of this fundamental truth, I will list my current most-hated movie that I have not seen, nor will never: New Year’s Eve.

How do I know that NYE will be a shitty movie? Well, aside from the fact that all the editing power of Hollywood couldn’t make a trailer that showed any spark of a cohesive plot or dramatic tension, the makers of said preview decided to throw ol’ Bobby DeNiro up as the last shot in the trailer to attempt to fool people into thinking that this film has some sort of cinematic gravitas or worth. Basically, DeNiro is Sharon Stone’s hairy labia in Basic Instinct, a dirty trick by filmmakers to generate buzz about another completely ridiculous movie.

To be clear, I’m not saying that it isn’t okay for you to go see these films or even like them. I’m just saying that Billy Joel would not approve. And he wrote ‘Piano Man’, which is one of the most horribly self-centered and offensive things to ever be sung along to by hoards of drunkards at the end of the dueling piano show at the New York New York Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. On that note, I have a little secret for you. If you are ever in a bar where a guy is playing songs on the piano and singing and it ISN’T jazz, bet your buddies some cash that the last song of his second set will be ‘Piano Man’ and you will make money every time. You can set your clock by this. Don’t tell anybody else though. They don’t deserve to know if they don’t read my articles.

To summarize, here are my instructions for you as you venture into 2012, the last year that humanity will walk this earth because the Mayan’s said we are all going to die and they were an empire that thrives to this day. I think. Here they are:

1. Do not go see New Years Eve. Please. Protest the Sharon Stone labia trick. It’s underhanded, obvious and extremely lame.
2. Do not watch that Bosom Buddies rip-off. Watch the original. It may be a bit dated but at least it was the first version. And it has Tom Hanks. Everybody loves Tom Hanks. Don’t pretend you don’t. You can’t help yourself but saying ‘Wiillllllsssoooon’ whenever you see a volleyball to this day.
3. Listen to ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel and take a note of every time it seems like he is saying he is too good to be playing piano in a bar full of people who he thinks are pathetic drunks but actually all sound very nice. I mean, what the hell does it matter that Davey was in the Navy still? It’s called a career, asshole. At least he didn’t write a bunch of trite songs on his piano and get them stuck in everybody’s head and then fail to retain vaginal access to the sexiest chick of the Eighties.

 

 

 

HOME