Over the past eight years on the first entries of countless unfinished blogs, I've harkened back to that moment seven minutes into Cameron Crowe's Jerry Maguire in which a before-we-knew-he-was-a-Scientologist-nutbird Tom Cruise spends a restless night in a Miami hotel room rattling off the document that will define the rest of his life. (FUN FACT: As I discovered tonight, Crowe made the full, never-before-seen text of "The Things We Think and Do Not Say" available online in 2003.) I've rather pretentiously led myself to believe on a number of occasions that the thought of me broadcasting the minute details of my life were going to be some game-changing event for the circles of the internet that surround me; the kind of game-changing event that gets our leading man fired from Sports Entertainment International to the derisive grins of Jay Mohr and an oft-unnoticed Donal Logue and sends him onto an elevator with only a well-mannered goldfish and an adorable young single mom Renee Zellweger--before her face started collapsing into itself--showing their support. With the advent of Facebook and Twitter, putting the minutiae of one's existence out into the world ceased being the goal of everybody with a modem and too much free time and simply became the natural order.Late last year, something happened.
I watched in horror as a family conflict of the whitest-trash caliber was broadcast to an unsuspecting audience of Facebook "friends", and suddenly I realized I didn't want to be my own personal P.R. firm anymore. Rest assured, I don't mean this as an offensive dig at any and everyone who subscribes to any of the many beloved social networks. I just realized it's not for me. Gradually, I shifted my networking skills to the thing that has always kept me sane: entertainment.
My Twitter and Facebook feeds became my place to share the latest movie trailers, A.V. Club reviews, superhero movie casting revelations, and "Doctor Who" episode previews. It felt good. No. It felt fucking GREAT. (Right there is when I realized I should post that disclaimer at the top of the page. That's how that happened.)
In doing so, I felt a rush I hadn't felt since I was violently ripped from the city I called home for the better part of five years; from the family of friends I'd made in that time. (You might call it college graduation. I call it forced relocation.) I felt a sense of community. I'd found a means to keep all these connections alive; in the one place I'd always found hope: on movie and television screens, in the verses of songs, in the panels of comics, and the pages of books. Even though I was three hours away from the bulk of the people who've made me feel happy and loved over the years, I felt a sense of home.
Over the past few months though, that home has gotten a little too small to house all my pop culture ramblings. There is a long missive on the downfall of my once-favorite network sitcom; a missive that could lead to an episode-by-episode analysis of where exactly I believe it all went wrong. There are network-by-network analyses of the recently-announced Fall 2011 television schedules. There are movie reviews about the summer's biggest releases, and maybe even some little-known indie flicks viewed in a room full of elderly out-of-towners. These are all things you can come to expect--as soon as tomorrow--here at "Entertainment on Jeff's Terms"; and as this is a so-called "mission statement", how about a few more?
For one, I make it my solemn vow to never make you, the reader feel less than you are just because you and I disagree on something. (I'll leave that to Television Without Pity and the A.V. Club comments section.) Rest assured, we will disagree. Probably quite often, but I will NEVER say anything to the effect of "You aren't a person if you don't like this movie." I've been given that kind of treatment before and it's the reason why I have such hard feelings toward certain beloved entertainment figures. (Here's looking at you, Modern Family.)
On a related note, I will do my best to NEVER suggest that just because I'm someone who takes the time to write overlong treatises on pop culture, I know better than the reader. One of my greatest pleasures in this world is being introduced--and often educated--on the ways of entertainment by my nearest and dearest; and since my nearest and dearest will be the primary audience here at the start, I welcome your feedback with the openest of arms.
Finally, let me apologize for how wordy, narcissistic, and overly self-important that all read. It's merely a product of the stream of consciousness that led to all these words hitting my screen.
It went a little something like this:
alright I found my title let's write hey it's another blog let's do the Jerry Maguire thing again ooh I should find a picture of the mission statement scene ooh I really want to watch Jerry Maguire now I'll put it in the DVD player hey that's a young drake bell and hey that's Toby Huss ooh I had no idea the full text of the mission statement was online typing typing typing god I'm coming off like a bloated douchenozzle ha show me the money he won the hell out of that oscar typing typing typing hello nephew have a seat and we'll finish watching that Simpsons episode we were watching on Hulu oh hey your grandma's home ooh a cup of ice typing typing typing hey let's end this with the stream of consciousness that led to this whole thing hey I'm pretty clever ugh I'm such a douche I should apologize again
So, yeah, I'm sorry once again. As you can see, my mind is constantly running, and I thank you for giving me a place to let it rest every now and again.
Welcome to "Entertainment on Jeff's Terms". This shit is about to get real.
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