a distant memory
Desperately trying to avoid a boring or uneventful, or even the catastrophe, being dull and unfunny live journal entry, I've decided to take a little trip down memory lane. While just about anything can come up during conversations online, this night I was discussing a rather interesting experience I had with Italian TV.
Last summer, my family's destination for their vacation was Italy, including Rome, and Venice. Italy has become infamous for its lack of restrictions on drinking, sex, and just about anything else that’s legal, even some that aren’t. Fully enjoying the lack of restrictions, I became used to seeing the occasional sex scene on TV, that would require a rating higher than PG-13.
One late night, flipping through Italian TV, switching from Italy's version of MTV, to CNN, something caught my eye, or more accurately my ear. Rarely hearing any English during my trip, I was pleasantly surprised to hear some of my favorite American classics. Hearing in a soft volume the songs of the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, and even Oasis' hit song "Wonder wall". I was surprised with the dose of home, for this home sick Angeleno. Being somewhat drained and exhausted at 3 am in Venice, my eyes were not fully open to see what images were being shown with these Classic favorites, I simply assumed it was the music videos being shown on Italy's MTV.
Enjoying the third song that was playing softly in the background, I was able to finally glimpse the disturbing images. What appeared to be on the TV, were ads, or perhaps more accurately infomercials for stripers/hookers. All of the ads, in slow motions with the barely clothed women moving in sexual and seductive gestures, all along to the lyrics of The Beatles "Help!". Finding this mix of semi-porn and Rock Classics, wrong on numerous levels, I was unable to change the channel, like a car accident in progress, like a fight between two hobo's, like watching a piece of art fall to the ground, I watched as naked Italian women grabbed and stroked her large breasts along to Simon and Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson". Even though I have seen The Graduate, and am fully aware of the original meaning of the song, something was still disturbing about this new reinterpretation of a classic.
To this day, those songs I heard on that cool night in Venice, forever have a new meaning. No longer do the images of the cartoon versions of Ringo, George, John, and Paul follow the pleasant song of "Yellow Submarine", now whenever I hear the subtle melody, disturbing images of a Italian Hooker named Sophie--who's specialty is deep throating--appear in my mind.
Random quote of the night:
Fatso861 (1:58:31 AM): jesus on a pony! what are you doing over there?
Last summer, my family's destination for their vacation was Italy, including Rome, and Venice. Italy has become infamous for its lack of restrictions on drinking, sex, and just about anything else that’s legal, even some that aren’t. Fully enjoying the lack of restrictions, I became used to seeing the occasional sex scene on TV, that would require a rating higher than PG-13.
One late night, flipping through Italian TV, switching from Italy's version of MTV, to CNN, something caught my eye, or more accurately my ear. Rarely hearing any English during my trip, I was pleasantly surprised to hear some of my favorite American classics. Hearing in a soft volume the songs of the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, and even Oasis' hit song "Wonder wall". I was surprised with the dose of home, for this home sick Angeleno. Being somewhat drained and exhausted at 3 am in Venice, my eyes were not fully open to see what images were being shown with these Classic favorites, I simply assumed it was the music videos being shown on Italy's MTV.
Enjoying the third song that was playing softly in the background, I was able to finally glimpse the disturbing images. What appeared to be on the TV, were ads, or perhaps more accurately infomercials for stripers/hookers. All of the ads, in slow motions with the barely clothed women moving in sexual and seductive gestures, all along to the lyrics of The Beatles "Help!". Finding this mix of semi-porn and Rock Classics, wrong on numerous levels, I was unable to change the channel, like a car accident in progress, like a fight between two hobo's, like watching a piece of art fall to the ground, I watched as naked Italian women grabbed and stroked her large breasts along to Simon and Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson". Even though I have seen The Graduate, and am fully aware of the original meaning of the song, something was still disturbing about this new reinterpretation of a classic.
To this day, those songs I heard on that cool night in Venice, forever have a new meaning. No longer do the images of the cartoon versions of Ringo, George, John, and Paul follow the pleasant song of "Yellow Submarine", now whenever I hear the subtle melody, disturbing images of a Italian Hooker named Sophie--who's specialty is deep throating--appear in my mind.
Random quote of the night:
Fatso861 (1:58:31 AM): jesus on a pony! what are you doing over there?