August 8, 2014
Dear Everyone:
42 years ago I was a college student, living in
Morocco.
A six-ounce bottle of
Coca-Cola cost about a nickel.
And it bore the famous Coca-Cola
trademark, in
Arabic.
I brought one home with me as a souvenir.
Some years later, our mother went on a trip to
Israel and brought back
another Coke bottle, this one imprinted with “Coca-Cola” in
Hebrew.
A few years after that, she visited the newly-opened-to-the-West
People’s Republic of China.
You guessed it: She brought
back a Coke bottle, this one unopened.
In retrospect, I wasn’t the one collecting International Coca-Cola
bottles. Mother was the
collector. I was just the
curator.
Each time I moved, I carefully wrapped up the Coke bottles and placed
them in a relatively safe moving box, along with other breakable
objects. I still have them.
A few months ago, I saw a plain, old ordinary glass Coke bottle for sale
in an antique shop. It
occurred to me that someone might be willing to pay money for some old
not-so-ordinary glass bottles.
Not that I was looking to make any money, of course.
I did a little research on
eBay.
$5-$10 seemed to be the going rate.
But that included shipping, etc.
Too much trouble as far as I was concerned.
But before I dumped them on some poor, unsuspecting
charity thrift shop,
I thought I would see if anyone was really interested.
So I did a Google search (have you noticed that “Google” and
“Netflix” have become verbs?) and discovered a website devoted to people
who actually collect Coca-Cola bottles on purpose.
I sent an email to the “President” of the “Golden Gate Chapter” of the
“Coca-Cola Collectors Club”, who happened to live in
Woodland,
California. According to
Google Maps, Woodland is a small town west of
Sacramento.
On our way up
Interstate 505, which bypasses Sacramento for those
who just want to go north or south on
I-5, we would always pass the sign
for Woodland. That’s as
close as you can get to the “Golden Gate” and still be near the state
capitol.
I didn’t get any response; so, after about a week, I sent a “bulk email”
to several of the other “Presidents” of Coca-Cola Collectors Clubs in
California. One of them had
the grace to reply that no one was really interested.
He didn’t think anyone would pay more than a dollar for a genuine
“antique” Moroccan Coke bottle.
So, one of these days I’ll just drop them by at one of the charity
thrift shops and, if they can get more than a dollar for one, well
that’s one more dollar than they had before.
Meanwhile, movies…
We went to see
Lucy, because
“Jeannie” wanted to see it and I was willing to go along.
Just to put everyone on the same level, this movie was written and
directed by one, Luc Besson, who gave the world
The Fifth Element some 14
years ago. The recurring
themes are: Nonsense in
search of a film; gorgeous babes in extremely tight clothing; and
special effects for no discernible reason.
The movie begins with a representation (i.e., actor in an ape suit) of
the
Australopithecus
afarensis
discovered by Donald Johanson and nicknamed “Lucy” by his colleagues who
kept playing a tape of the
Beatles song
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
Repeatedly.
Incessantly. The producers
apparently were happily ignorant of the fact that the “original Lucy”
was barely 3-½ feet tall.
Fast-forward a few million years or so to modern
Taipei.
Lucy, portrayed this time by
Scarlett Johansson (no relation), is
a young American woman who is tricked by her soon-to-be-former boyfriend
into delivering a briefcase to a hotel.
Bad things happen.
Lucy becomes inadvertently exposed to a synthetic drug which causes her
to suddenly, and increasingly, utilize “all” of her mental capability.
This is ever-so-loosely based on the so-called “10% myth”,
originating in the 19th Century, that humans only use about
10% of their brains; and if they could just find a way to utilize the
“other 90%”, they could become gods.
In other words:
Nonsense in search of a film.
Lucy quickly figures out what’s happening and heads to
Paris, France, to
find Morgan Freeman, who is in the movie to give it a modicum of
reasonability. The real
purpose in going to Paris is so the director can tear up the city with
meaningless car chases and crashes.
Suffice to say you could drive a very large truck through all the holes
in the logic. The real
reason to see the movie, apart from tearing up Paris just for the fun of
it, and Morgan Freeman, of course, is to watch Scarlett.
She is becoming a real threat to the redoubtable
Angela Lansbury
when it comes to reaction shots.
Scarlett is terrified.
Scarlett is cool, calm and collected.
Scarlett is tossing an army of Bad Guys into the air without so
much as arching an eyebrow.
Scarlett is amassing all the knowledge in the Universe and rendering it
onto a $25-USB “Flash Drive”.
If they ever give an
Academy Award for Best Reaction to (Fill In
Blank), Scarlett has a lock on it.
In six-inch heels, no less.
Love, as always,
Pete
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