Hang on. I'm going to go to the bathroom to see what the actual title is.
[GOES TO BATHROOM; RETURNS.]
It is, alas, Pedagogy of the Oppressed! The first sentence of the Preface reads, "These pages, which introduce Pedagogy of the Oppressed, result from my observations during the six years of political exile, observations which have enriched those previously afforded by my educational activities in Brazil."
(Please note that this blog entry took an hour to write because I fell asleep three times while trying to type out that last sentence.)
I feel like I should be in a Manhattan loft, and Woody Allen is in the next room drinking wine with Elaine Stritch. But I'm not. I'm in freaking Glendale, where the stomping ground of the cultural elite is the Glendale Galleria.
Fortunately, people are complex: there is a PlayStation 2 in the other room, and I play a mean game of Ms. Pac-Man.
I am also fascinated by their Direct TV and TIVO (I don't even have cable in my apartment), and I keep recording everything and alternating 10-minute segments of a number of movies like The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Dark Water, Pulp Fiction, Husbands and Wives, and The Phantom of the Opera. Waiting in the wings, I have The Machinist, Spanglish, Ju-On, and some crap from Animal Planet. It doesn't matter that I don't actually finish these movies. The collective experience of them still have an impact on me. Just don't ask me if the Phantom lives or dies. I don't know.
This, my friends, has been Pedagogy of a Slacker. And Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Sue: your days are numbered! I'm taking you down!
—Reporting From Glendale, California