Here it is December 6th, and I haven’t even thought about … OMG! there are only 19 more Panic Days ’til Christmas. What the hell? I haven’t got rid of the Thanksgiving waistline, and now there’s another turkey looming on the horizon. This happens every year: leftover Hallowe’en candy mutates into Thanksgiving pie that turns into Christmas cookies that become boxes of Valentine’s Day bonbons which morph into gigantic, solid chocolate Easter bunnies — and it’s July 17th before I can see my toes again. Merciful Jesus, sew my mouth shut!
And it’s not just my jeans screaming for mercy. It’s almost the end of the year, and I haven’t fixed the kitchen fan, the living room light or the bedroom window screen. My desk looks like Attila the Hun has established a colony, and if I don’t clean my car soon, the Department of Health is going to put a padlock on it if — big if — the Department of Safety even allows them in! I’m never going to get a tree, deck the halls, find the perfect present, string the lights, attend the parties, suffer the hangovers and get anything wrapped in time…. The whole world sucks and I hate everything.
I need a montage. I need that movie device that compresses time so guys like me and Rocky Balboa can quit whining, chisel our abs, finally get a few things done and go out and kick Mr. T’s ass — once and for all.
Movies have had montages since Soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein developed the technique over 100 years ago. You would think by now some smart Silicon Valley type would have invented one for real life. Just imagine cramming six months of relentless, laser-focused work into 3 and a half minutes of an “Eye of the Tiger” video. I don’t know about you, but I’d pay folding money for that little puppy. And wouldn’t it be cool? Want to lose weight? Get a montage. Learn a language? Montage. Write a novel? Build that kickass social network? Organize the photos from Italy? Montage, MONTAGE, MONTAGE! Just think about it. You could do the crap work before breakfast and all the cool stuff lying by the pool in the afternoon.
Wait a minute! Earth to WD!
Unfortunately, we live in barbarous times, and all those Google fools can think about is automatic cars. Hey, folks! I know how to drive; what I need is pants that fit. Find me an app for that, Google, and I’ll put you back on my Christmas list.