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Monday, December 04, 2006

 

Ol' Faucet-Eyes


A couple of years back--and I mean almost exactly a couple of years--I wrote a post that was a bit cynical about It's a Wonderful Life. I love the movie, and loved it at the time I was writing, but I was in a mood then to pick it apart a bit.

I watched it again over the last couple of days. (Started it last night, fell asleep, finished it earlier tonight.) I cried my fucking eyeballs out. Again. After the kind of year I've had, I wasn't picking it apart in the slightest. And from the moment George comes home and finds his kids at the top of the stairs 'til the final chorus of "Auld Lang Syne", I was bawling like a white collar criminal his first night in prison.

Never mind that, in reality, the townfolks probably would've shrugged and gone on with their holiday. The idea that, if we try to do good, we'll see the karma swing back to us, the idea that the universe eventually cuts us a break, is very appealing. And tear-inducing; let's not forget that part.

So here's to George Bailey. And here's to that poor bastard whose only line was, "We'll wait for ya, baby." ('Cause he needs love, too.)

Comments:
I quote that movie all the time. ("George, why must you torture the children?).

I love the idea that our good deeds ripple outward and have repurcussions that we never even know about.

And I totally believe in the karma thing.
 
I start crying as soon as George says "Bert, do you know me?"
 
There is only one quote I use from that snoozer.

"But Mr. Potter. It's Christmas."

Maybe it's time for me to revisit it, and see if there's any additional appeal.
 
I gotta say, Prego, I don't think very many people change their minds about this movie.

As far as quotes go, there are far too many for me to list them here. I will say that I love calling people "warped, frustrated old [men]".
 
Happy New Year to you...IN JAIL!

Watching this movie as a kid, I first learned the word "malfeasance."

Have I mentioned that your money is in Martini's house? Just checking.

I've seen it a quadrillion times, and much like looking in the mirror, I choose to ignore its faults and enjoy it for what it is.
 
Say...did you write that poem lying in a pool of your own sick?
 
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