Monday, June 21, 2010
Disco:Very Does Dallas. No, Wait: San Francisco [Part 2]
Benjamin Bratt as Himself
Disco:Very as Himself
Curtain rises on a busy day at Amoeba Music on Haight Street. Disco:Very, dressed in the youthful fashions of today, is in the "B" section of the CD racks, mystified as to why the goddamned store doesn't have any music by The Black Jaspers. At that very moment, Benjamin Bratt, star of both TV and talking pictures, enters the store, eventually inching his tall lithe frame down the aisle across from where Disco:Very is shopping.
Noboby has yet noticed Benjamin Bratt except Disco:Very--similar to the same way nobody but Disco:Very spied Michael Moore walking towards his gate at the Chicago Airport some years ago, and how could they miss him because that guy's as big as a trash barge? Does Disco:Very possess a sixth sense of some kind? An ESP which alerts him to the proximity of actors, musicians and entertainment personalities? Perhaps, upon Disco:Very's eventual demise, scientists ought to slice Disco:Very's brain into thin tissues so as to study and learn from what are surely remarkable and perhaps even revolutionary cerebral impulses.
Benjamin Bratt is dancing the dance upon which all celebrities embark: hoping to not be noticed while hoping to be noticed; pretending to be an Average Joe out on a shopping excursion while fully expecting that his many fans will gather around him, gawking and gushing about his filmic achievements. Because Disco:Very sniffs his nose at the types of films and TV series in which Mr. Bratt would appear, no praise will be forthcoming from the lofty blogger. Instead, he merely follows Mr. Bratt at a safe yet inquisitive distance.
What music will Benjamin Bratt be buying, in this enormous shop containing millions of CD's, records and tapes? The possibilities are as endless as one's tastes. Will Bratt pursue the extensive International section, concerning himself in particular with Native American recordings, thus showing an interest in his own proud ethnic heritage? Or will he instead skirt along the edge of the jazz aisle, purchasing a Verve reissue of musical renown? Perhaps Bratt will indulge in some extreme noise recordings and surprise us all by brandishing a recording of Sunn O))), or perhaps he's into the experimental creations of mathematically-inclined composer Iannis Xenakis?
No, Benjamin Bratt stays in the vicinity of the rock and pop aisle, picking through the racks labeled Fleetwood Mac.
Disco:Very, seeing this, shoots himself in the head.