The Ira Glass Infatuation Post/This American Life Roundup: “Promised Land”

It’s a regular Jerusalem in the heatwave-riddled urban terrain of New York in August as Jewbello Ira leads us to The Promised Land in this week’s installment of This American Life. "I wish," sings Ira. Yes, sings. Audio experts have agreed that he is on pitch and keeping it fresh. Completely astounded with our luck, we listeners directly get a juicy bite out of Ira’s fruit of desire: to "fill you with longing" and that "the stories will be gripping and special." Oh baby. Ira explores the trend of main characters dreamily coveting an unattained something in the world. As he shares a variety of melodics from Snow White’s horny hallucinations of forest-animal-approved Prince Charmings, to Ira’s own wishes for an earth-moving session, I’m enjoying my remote Flotilla stationed on the waves of FM with TAL this week. 

Act 1: We had no idea where this burst of spontaneity had come from, but my sister and I had learned not to question these things. In the vain of dreamland desires, Starlee Kine heats up for some carnie fun at Disneyland. The This American Life darling took the nice girl role, living a life constrained by her ultra-caring mothah’s kindly neuroses. As Kill Bill music chimes in, Glass’s production paints Kine as the badass Thurmanesque independent chica that I hadn’t yet seen in her. Later, Kine describes her mother as a creature of another color, letting her guard down for no apparent reason. "She laughed her head off on the teacups…we had never seen her that relaxed." Sounds like your mama did the right maternal thing and chilled the fuck out à la the Byrds at the Monterey Pop Festival of 67.
Act 2: It’s all about stuff coming out, so to speak

"Is it possible that all that stands between us and enlightenment is food?" questions David Rakoff. Another sexy rationalist hits the waves like a naked Lolla Gaga. Rakoff attempts to see the light by ingesting the one pill that makes you smaller not mentioned by Grace Slick: hunger.

Aside from a day-by-day of this Lifer’s fast, we are constantly reminded of his prescribed regular enema habit. I admire this kind of out-of-the-closet disclosure of the process. The lack of judgement he expects of his audience is a beautiful thing, like that of Lilo’s pre-prison blowouts. It’s my body and I do what I want: the battle cry of the independent warrior of happiness, seeking satisfaction in the least popular of places. And isn’t that the perfect conclusion to a discussion on enemas?

At any rate, Rakoff’s journey to his personal promised land, just a moment of Aha!, is a stretch to attain via fasting. An equally sexy-minded logical doctor states of Rakoff’s endeavors, "I’d be interested in seeing how a rationalist would interpret these same feelings. I hope you see something." In examining the experience with someone who did see the light, he concludes that he could find the same chemical imbalance-riddled hallelujah from a cup of joe. Might I suggest to a Chekhov and Woody Allen-quoting Rakoff a popular elixir that he might find in continuing on his Alice In Wonderland quest: a prescription of the hookah-smoking types known as the Bombay Caterpillar, or a Gin & Chronic? "It is as if I’ve taken an anti-anxiety pill."

Act 3: You wouldn’t? Even if I did this to you?

The exhibition of female dominance, not over a man oppressively but rather over his immediate reality, is pure desert heat. The way a girl works her femme fatale-degree dangerous curves on the unlikely set of a McDonald’s is expert, and I’m under the impression that even the manipulated had a nice time. It is as Patti Smith wrote in Just Kids of David Croland: "As a top model at Boys Inc., David was confident and not easily intimidated. When he was chided for using his looks, he retorted, "I’m not using my looks. Other people are using my looks." What a nice example of symbiotic sin-icism.

"I wish" songs in the movies declare what it is that characters want. If only we could all be like Snow White, with a clear picture of what that might be. Ironically, outside of Disney fiction, acknowledging a desire could feel like signing up for the French gout. Yet, more often than not, the things that come from following one’s desires tend to work in one’s favor, even if accompanied by a syphilitic level of permanence. It will at the very least, propel us in the right direction, like a Sterger on the Favre train to her promised land, Fame.

Surrealist Fortune Cookie of the Week:

Doctor: "Societies are filled with beliefs about things that are good for you that may have no scientific merit. That doesn’t mean they don’t work, but that doesn’t mean that they do work either."