Magical Realism, Writing, Fiction, Politics, Haiku, Books

viernes, enero 30, 2009

Cheech And Chong

Cheech and Chong (2009)

Pardon me, but this is ridiculous:
It took a quarter of a century, five presidential administrations, two divorces and a nine-month prison sentence, but Cheech & Chong, those lovable lowlifes of comedy who broke up in 1985 to pursue solo opportunities and get away from each other, have at last reunited.

Sure, they may now carry BlackBerrys and look like your grandfather (if your grandfather kept roach clips in his pockets and had a perpetually squinty look in his eye), but they are still the same genial reprobates of albums like “Big Bambú” and films like “Up in Smoke.”

Only now, when they play the characters from their repertory of comical degenerates (as they are scheduled to do on Saturday at a sold-out Radio City Music Hall show) or reminisce about their 40-year-old partnership, there’s an added poignancy; the acts are colored not only by a marijuana haze but also by the passage of time, and by the onset of old age and infirmity.

You grandfather? The "onsent of old age and infirmity"? Ouch. Chong is 70; Cheech is 62. They look to me like my old hippie friends. And in a way, they are. And when the Times thinks they might look like "your grandfather," I have to wonder how old the present readership is. If I had grandkids, which I don't, how old could they possibly be?

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Anonymous jessie said...

Your kids better start reproducing soon, because clearly you're behind that curve. (the grandparent curve, that is.)

4:43 p.m.  

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