Barrelhouse editor Dave Housley wrote a “Commercial Fiction” piece for Hobart’s website about the “trippy magical realism” in Coors Light advertisements. You know what that means, right? People all over the world! Join hands. Start a love train. (Love train.)
There was a pretty great "Cialis" one the week before, too! (And, pssst, maybe a “Wrangler” one coming in the near future??)Millions Millions
“I thought you were going to play football,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say.
“You’re wearing jeans.”
“Wait,” she says. “I’ve never seen those jeans before. Those are like Mom jeans. Those are like Eighties jeans.”
“You know what these are, Sally,” I say.
“Really?” she says. There’s a little bit of laughter in her voice, a little bit of pity. “Those are Wranglers?”
“Turn around,” she says.
I feel ridiculous but I do it.
“Huh,” she says. “They took that W thing off them. But those are Wranglers alright.”
(via Hobart :: Wrangler by Dave Housley)
The workmen stand by the doorway. Nichols comes out with bottles of water for everybody. They make jokes, their hands held down as if carrying the television, scaled wide in reference to its sheer size. It’s a party over there. A giant television party.
Burns remembers standing in that same Best Buy not so much as five weeks ago. A salesman had quietly pulled him aside, assured him that he didn’t want to get bigger than fifty, that the size was there but the technology wasn’t ready. Burns had been skeptical of the guy from the start: a salesman with dreadlocks and a neck tattoo? Burns remembers when salesmen wore short sleeved shirts and black ties, pocket protectors and glasses, when they sold things that lasted for decades without service plans or replacement insurance.
But why would the guy lie? What could possibly be in it for him? Now Burns considers whether, somehow, Nichols could have been behind the whole thing.
Laurel puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s happening,” she says. She slips toward the tables. People are already eating hamburgers, high-fiving, bumping fists, nodding at one another with knowing looks in their eyes.
“Cheddar and ONION!” Josh shouts. He and Tommy bump fists.
The music stops and then starts again. “John Mayer about time!” Lee says. “Turn that shit up, y’all!”
I’m wondering if I’m being punked. Hamburgers? McDonalds? John Mayer and the Dave Matthews Band? This can’t really be what Laurel’s parties are like.
Excerpt from “The Canada Dry Girl” Documentary Interviews, Central Florida, 2013.
Carrie Newgent, 29 years of age, 248 lbs.
Interviewer: What do you say to people who worry that the…drink… you’re drinking. The ginger ale. Might have…addictive properties?
Carrie Newgent: [Laughs] It’s ginger ale! Soda. Same as they drink everywhere in the world. Same as you get at the supermarket or the 7-11 or a baseball game. Here [holds out a soda], give it a shot.
Interviewer: I don’t…
CN: It’s soda pop!
Interviewer: Some people say the field…that there are qualities.
CN: The field? [Gestures behind her] Its dirt and ginger. You can see that for yourself. You can go over there stick your thumb in it if you like. Plenty have done it.
Interviewer: But this is the only place in the world where those two things – ginger and dirt is what I mean. Where they combine to produce manufactured ginger ale. In plastic bottles. Bottles that have been confirmed to contain no organic materials.
CN: Well. Are we talking about, I mean, are you asking about the soda or the field or us or the girl?
Interviewer: I’m asking about all of it, I suppose.
CN: Well. [Finishes can of ginger ale]. Maybe what you want to be asking about, then, is the girl.
(via Hobart :: Canada Dry)
One thing I know: this sure as hell isn’t Epic Games, where if you remember, I did my internship last summer, and I thought was awesome until I walked into this place. You’d think it would be all bro-ing down and crunching code, but those guys were more like accountants than anything else, all bottom line and Dockers and project management software (hey Basecamp: suck it!) and timetracking and fourth quarter projections.
I’m going to learn so much from these dudes. Meta rules!
Double-feature on Hobart today!
But midway through the movie Gremlins, it would appear that all is lost. With almost no resistance, give or take the occasional blender or microwave, the little buggers have conquered the entire town, leaving its inhabitants snowed-in, murdered, or in hiding. Now, free to have their run of the place, they do what I imagine most of us would do had we newly inherited a quaint northeastern village from the harried inhabitants: they go to the bar.
In December 2013, Brooklyn Nets Assistant Coach Lawrence Frank was “reassigned” by first year Head Coach Jason Kidd, demoted from coaching on the bench to filing daily “team evaluation” reports from a remote location. The following story imagines what might be in those reports. These are works of fiction and in no way represent the personal or emotional state of the real Lawrence Frank, although, if you were him, you’d be a little pissed off and existential too, right?