November 12, 2004
document this, jerk
I was thinking about the movies of late, the variety to make hearts swell, eyes tear up, put a fire in your belly, give you a headache, have your fingers do the walkin', inspire more elbow room, get your butt in gear, make you want to vote with your feet, cause toe-tapping, finger-snapping, and I thought, "I don't want to do any of those things. I want to relax and laugh and laugh and laugh."
But how to do that?
I think there should be a documentary of great urgency made by, well, someone like me. Although there is no one like me, there must be someone like me. At any rate, I believe a documentary on the hazard of ripe fruit in the spread of West Nile Virus would be appropriate. It doesn't matter that fruit flies aren't the insects that transmit the virus. Doesn't matter at all.
But if I didn't tell you that, if I didn't tell you that and you found out later, just as tragedy was so nearly not averted, wouldn't you feel frightened? In fear of your life? Prepared to smother yourself and your children in DDT, just to make sure you got cancer instead of West Nile Virus?
Or maybe the person like me would make a documentary about carpet fiber and the kind of lint it produces. This would not be a lesson in forensics, as that would give too much information to the terrorists, but it would be a lesson in the kind of rug to buy, the kind of restaurants you should visit. Some lint can catch on fire. Did you know that? In fact, some overripe fruit can catch on fire.
Furthermore, documentaries can catch on fire. There's a reason that Michael Moore film was called Fahrenheit 911. Ray Bradbury might know that books burn at 451 degrees Fahrenheit. But a documentary? Guess its burnability temperature.
