#update #film #books Gone Girl

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So ‘murricans are already watching this (with $38 million weekend) and we have to wait until friday. (Not to fight with our national holiday juggernaut I guess). When I saw Fincher name is attached, I immediately read its book to prove I’m better than you, so comparisons of the film to book and all that jazz will be in my review.

But to hype you up, I’m sharing the infamous cool girl rant.

“That night at the Brooklyn party, I was playing the girl who was in style, the girl a man like Nick wants: the Cool Girl. Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.
Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: ‘I like strong women.’ If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because ‘I like strong women’ is code for ‘I hate strong women.’)
I waited patiently – years – for the pendulum to swing the other way, for men to start reading Jane Austen, learn how to knit, pretend to love cosmos, organize scrapbook parties, and make out with each other while we leer. And then we’d say, Yeah, he’s a Cool Guy.

But it never happened. Instead, women across the nation colluded in our degradation! Pretty soon Cool Girl became the standard girl. Men believed she existed – she wasn’t just a dreamgirl one in a million. Every girl was supposed to this girl, and if you weren’t, then there was something wrong with you.
But it’s tempting to be Cool Girl. For someone like me, who likes to win, it’s tempting to want to be the girl every guy wants. When I met Nick, I knew immediately that was what he wanted, and for him, I guess I was willing to try. I will accept my portion of blame. The thing is, I was crazy about him at first. I found him perversely exotic, a good ole Missouri boy. He was so damn nice to be around. He teased things out in me that I didn’t know existed: a lightness, a humor, an ease. It was as if he hollowed me out and filled me with feathers. He helped me be Cool Girl – I couldn’t have been Cool Girl with anyone else. I wouldn’t have wanted to. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it: I ate a MoonPie, I walked barefoot, I stopped worrying. I watched dumb movies and ate chemically laced foods. I didn’t think past the first step of anything, that was the key. I drank a Coke and didn’t worry about how to recycle the can or about the acid puddling in my belly, acid so powerful it could strip clean a penny. We went to a dumb movie and I didn’t worry about the offensive sexism or the lack of minorities in meaningful roles. I didn’t even worry whether the movie made sense. I didn’t worry about anything that came next. Nothing had consequence, I was living in the moment, and I could feel myself getting shallower and dumber. But also happy.”

and here are the girls who I forced to read the book over the summer. (Actually one of them read it even before me but we do not welcome book worms here, can you guess which one is that?)

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#Books Eat What You Kill by Ted Scofield

9781250021823One girl I recently flirted with proclaimed I’m a “self-made man” However, I didn’t made anything so far. I’m a fan of every single self absorbed asshole ever though. So in to make Evan and Ayn Rand proud, I’m going to put I in entire review. I consider myself a liberal and still Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged is my favorite book ever. The world is for the taking, is it not?

Eat What You Kill is, in a sense, a completely reference driven book entirely crafted for being a Blockbuster film. It has every ingredient for a success. Every character is immediately associated with a Hollywood actor instantly unlikable but captivating.  Sometimes you feel like you’re reading a script instead of a good old fiction book. But this really hardly a criticism thing at all. American Psycho’s producer Edward R. Pressman  is already interested making this a film and all the promotions about of how it is American Psycho meets Wall Street are quite true. I LOVE PATRICK BATEMAN and he was a downright weird guy. Evan Stoess on the other hand a quite real human being. He’s a trailer trash kid obsessed with money. Totally relatable from page one. His inner demons are not only a metaphor, they actually call him Kmart. While too much variables could go wrong with each killing and all of them are thrilling, he does everything perfectly (and with lots of luck). Then again the book isn’t a quick slasher. All the kills make you greatly invested in the situation. A video game genius douchebag in a party. A even more douchebag daredevil in a one of world’s deepest diving places. A fucking Safari place and the MORE OBNOXIOUS ULTIMATE NAZI DESCENDANT DOUCHEBAG. You want to see Evan gets away with everything. You want Evan to belong. You want to make a girl who looks like Margot Robbie jealous of a girl who looks like Kristen Bell because she’s richer and more blue blooded. With cringe worthy francophone-ness. Hotter one would play with her iPhone and act to get your attention. Best feel ever.

Don’t get me wrong The Wolf of Wall Street was my favorite film in 2013 but if it was that controversial, I want Eat What You Kill’s film adaptation to overtake it. Throw hottest A-listers in there. I want normal people to NOT get Evan Stroess’ motives and be terrified by him, I want new money crazed youngsters to meet with Ayn Rand and actually pick her books. This is my favorite fiction book of 2014 and we’re only in quarter of this year as I write this.

#books Christian Bale: The Inside Story of the Darkest Batman by Harrison Cheung

christian-bale-biography-book-coverWhen Andrew Garfield was announced as Spider-Man, I was really optimistic about it. The Social Network, imho, is literally THE film of our  gimmemoarlikesgoddammit generation. Everyone wants to be an entrepreneur now. Even occasionally get to hear, “we should make an iOS game, we should make a stream website” from time to time. The film was every computer user’s dream. Well, how can you top it? By taking it to the final step. Apple.

I’m not just talking about bearded and unemployed hipsters. From garage times to being #1 at everything Apple fanaticism is beyond every fandom ever. Hooray for cult following. So Sorkin is adapting Jobs’ biography by Walter Isaacson for ages. We had stupid iSteve film and heart crushing disappointing Jobs before. Sure, I’m hundred percent positive about A Steve Jobs film by David Fincher would become ultimate spiritual follow-up The Social Network, but I also though Ashton Kutcher was a perfect casting. Now, Fincher said he wants Christian Bale to become Jobs. I AM HYPED FOR THIS MORE THAN BATMAN & SUPERMAN. (Not as Interstellar though.)

Naturally, I stumbled upon Christian Bale biography two years ago but never get around because every review of it was how this is about a butt-hurt fan boy which worked with Christian Bale for years. Well, I was a Christian Bale fan before he was Batman, well, d’uh. American Psycho. Still my favorite film ever. Not Citizen Kane. Not 12 Angry Men. To tell the book is biased in Bale’s favor is an understatement. The writer continuously bitch about everything and it’s more like a coherent version of every TMZ news ever. For every insighter info, you had to swim through basic IMDb information and you know he’s not the easiest guy to be pals with. The entire book literally reads like an angry fan letter but to give Harrison his due, it was a quick read.

Well, also it confirmed Christian Bale and his demons would make a perfect Steve Jobs. I only was aiming for to validate this.

Only recommended if you hate Christian Bale and wanted to read about him for hours to hate him more, or you’re a fan.. I guess.

#books Kevin Roose’s Young Money: Inside the Hidden World of Wall Street’s Post-Crash Recruits

RooseYOUNGMONEYLeonardo DiCaprio should have won the best actor. Wolf of Wall Street should have won the best picture. Martin Scorsese.. you know where I’m going with this. I loved every single controversial second of the Wolf of Wall Street. (with the acceptance of how brilliant dark comedy it actually is) Sure, a lot of people missed “LOOK AT THEM, THEY’RE NOT VERY DIFFERENT THAN COMMON THUGS. THEY WERE COMMON THUGS BEFORE THIS FOR GODSSAKE!” message, with lots of walk out during its release day but it is what it is. Oliver Stone’s Wall Street for young douchebags to aspire for. So it’s not really that hard wanting to live exactly like Jordan Belfort.

This book is the perfect anti-thesis of what the film proudly flaunts. Doing coke out of a stripper’s ass in between work is now a relic of past. We’re living into one financial crisis to another. Everything is occupied and while it is not easy for anyone, it sure as hell is not easy for recent Ivy League grads either. (Look at me, I’m humanizing one percenters)  As a legal intern, I’m still having a hard time accepting what to endure for making a little bit more money than people we graduated with, which requires devoting your entire brain cells to work and work only. The survival of fittest on the steroids. Eh, we’re talking about the MECCA of Money. Some of the guys in the book get less than five hours to sleep a day, every day. There aren’t any weekends. New grads are making $70K minimum (+$20-90K end year bonus, depending on how little you fuck your excel spread sheets) in their first year but the rules aren’t so different even in Turkey. I actually know legal interns called to be office on a Sunday evening; (for less than $15K and mind you, most can’t get a yearly salary of $5K but that is entirely different topic) of course it’ll be harder on Wall Street.

Then again, most of the characters are not memorable at all. While the author does his best to flesh out its eight different characters, they still fall flat like South Park characters. A token girl with a doomed to fail long distance relationship, a token black guy, a guy who literally did not know anything about finance before being thrown here and question himself with the tragedy of quarter-life crisis. Yet, I think this further illustrates the point. All of these guys were somewhat interesting in college. Now the real life forcing down their throat they can’t help but whine all over the place. They lose all of their non-finance friends. They can’t meet anyone else. They throw Fashion meets Finance mixers. (which the book hilariously calls as social Darwinism in its purest, most obnoxious form). I also find it funny how all those Ivy Leaguers are all over Tech companies just after David Fincher’s The Social Network. When banks are opposite of sexy, they all act like the cure is in slippers not power suits anymore. At Harvard, percentage of seniors who went directly to financial services fell from 28 percent to 17 percent in last three years. Princeton gets cut by 46 to 36. Well, even my colleagues are half-jokingly suggested to make a mobile application for iOS about anything. What I found a little lame is how the book ends exactly like a young adult TV series. Telling who had quitted their jobs or continue to their struggle with sharpened fangs (and mostly crushed spirits) now. Cry me a river.

Not a literary example (a fast read with short chapters) and VERY focused on its subject but if you ever in need of an antidote for The Wolf of Wall Street, this book is for you.

Definitely recommended: If you are interested in corporate culture. Regardless of your allegiance.