Hallelujah! Praise be, Indiana Jones!
I got this the other day. I'm giddy over it. I'm in awe of it. It keeps me happy and excited and although the picture seems too dark and photographed poorly, you can right well suck it. Because this is a beautiful thing and that's all I have to say about it.
Well, I suppose this at least deserves a bit of a back story.
Got it at my favorite hot spot, Greg's Comics. Duh. It was in a box full of ancient Life magazines and, amazingly, actual stills from He-Man, Bravestarr and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Like, the literal still drawings used in the cartoons. I was assured they were legit, and if I cared to delve deeper, could find the exact episode they were used in. At this point, I feel I made a grave mistake by passing this up, because Lord knows owning a half shot of Michelangelo's head turned slightly left would make me for a helluva conversation piece. But I denied my desire and plowed deeper. The good stuff had to be at the bottom.
Found this, and it was worth it. Kinda tough to measure what's "worth it," but if you're like me, you'll gladly pay over twenty bucks for a piece of over sized paper so magnificently wrinkled and thin. It's a wrinkled and thin poster that has Indiana Jones on it, people. To top it off, it's in a bizarre language I'm not willing to google to find out. I'll stay ignorant and say Turkish, only because that sounds fancy. Hey, I have a movie poster from Turkey! Cool!
Thing is, I love the "Indiana Jones" series as much as the next guy, and can possibly even forgive the fourth installment in around thirty-seven years. Everything that was said, done, blown up and punched has SO forever been burned into my mind you'd half expect me to start wearing brown slacks and a bullwhip around my waist. You know, to hold up the brown slacks.
Growing up, these films were perfect. It boasted the greatest blend of adventure, comedy and life changing weird-fucking-moments. Face melting Nazis? A greasy, grabby hand pummeled through a dude's ribcage? All these things kept my imagination pumping and my dreams totally unsettled. I've kinda realized, through the years, that all of my favorite things have at one point made me want to shit my pants. Yes, kind readers, "Indiana Jones," and the themes and imagery throughout, have made me want to shit my pants.
And that's why this poster is my newest religious relic. Everything that has been built up inside me can be accumulated into an artifact that describes who I am, what I do and what I believe. This is that artifact. It is my little statue of a fat man that sets off a giant, tumbling boulder. It is my personal Ark of the Covenant, inconveniently stored in my apartment's living room. It is my three magical stones that get too hot to handle and are accidentally dropped into the alligator infested waters below. Don't worry, friends, because throughout the scuffle, one single stone is saved. And that stone is mine.
If you've noticed, it's not in a frame yet. Usually, I make it my first priority, but things are different this time 'round. Out of respect for it's holiness, the frame will be made of gold. If gold is unavailable, plastic and thick cardboard from a crafts store will be an acceptable substitute.
We're leaving for tour in a few days, and I'm filled with a warmth and comfort knowing that this will be at home waiting for me. If it could jump off my wall and surprise me with a plate of warm cookies as I walked through the door after a long and arduous two weeks, all the more better. Unfortunately, that won't happen, so I'll have to settle for Shakespearean re-enactments of "Temple of Doom" in the bathroom mirror and a whole lot of bragging. Usually, I never let a single soul into my living quarters, so it'll mostly be Internet or text based.
UR WALLS R BORING LOL.
Ahh, this is gonna be fun.
See you in two weeks!