Turbo-Fire Brains

I can’t resist this one, even if it’s just one paragraph.

Here’s the opening of Steve Heisler’s otherwise innocuous (and by innocuous I mean predictably vapid) write-up of Parks and Recreation.

“Great advice. Impossible to follow, but great advice.”

Chris says this to Leslie near the end of “Women In Garbage,” and it’s one of the more memorable lines because of how it essentially sums up every single conversation I’ve ever had with every one of my friends. People get in their heads a lot, and being told what they should do hits on an emotional level, at which point their turbo-fire brains take over and it’s all for naught.

Steve, thank you.  I feel like I’ve won the lottery.  A Powerball of idiocy.  There’s just so much here.  Let’s take it slow—let it last, let it linger.

Chris says this to Leslie near the end of “Women In Garbage,” and it’s one of the more memorable lines because of how it essentially sums up every single conversation I’ve ever had with every one of my friends.

Let me get this straight, Steve.  Every single conversation you’ve ever had with every one of your friends?  No “hey, looks like it’s going to rain today?” Or “how did the Mets do last night?” or “How was your childhood?” or “Hey, look, why is that man dressed as a tarantula trying to hijack a city bus?”  Somehow every exchange you’ve ever been involved in can be summed up by a tossed-off line from a sitcom character?  Do you just sit around with your friends giving each other advice?  Sample Heisler & Friends conversation:

Friend A: You know what’s the best way to make Green Goddess dressing?  You’ve got to grow your own herbs.  Rosemary, thyme.  A windowbox is good, but you’re really going to want an acre or two.  And as for Olive Oil, that Trader Joe’s stuff isn’t going to cut it.  I get mine straight from a little town in Tuscany.

Friend B: That sounds great, but I live in an apartment.  Speaking of which, I think you need to go into investment banking.  The money is really good.  I know you’re still working on your GED and taking cooking classes, but really, look at this sweet 60 inch LED I bought!

Steve: No, Friend B, you’re wrong.  You’ve gotta become a TV critic.  You get to watch a lot of TV—maybe not on a 60 inch LED, but still—and no one will care if you have don’t have anything interesting to say about it.  In fact, you don’t even need your sentences to make any sense!

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

People get in their heads a lot, and being told what they should do hits on an emotional level,

Wait—I’m sorry, I need to go even slower.

People

What people?  Who?  Are these your friends?  The characters in the show?

People get in their heads a lot

Speaking of getting into heads, my head is starting to hurt (I’ll be here all week). 

Basic grammar?  Hello?  Who does “their” refer to?  Your friends?  Maybe?  So unspecified “people” mess with the heads of your friends?  Is this the plot of some horror film involving unwanted brain surgery?

People get in their heads a lot, and being told what they should do hits on an emotional level,

Who is being told?  Who is telling what to whom?  When?  Where?  And, for God’s sake, why?

Oof—I just got hit on an emotional level!  That was like a sledgehammer to the heart.  A pickaxe to the brain.  A bullet to the soul. 

at which point their turbo-fire brains take over and it’s all for naught.

Is “turbo-fire” a word?  I Googled it and apparently Steve Heisler is way ahead of me.  It’s an exercise program.  It involves “High-intensity kickboxing and interval training.”  So apparently after the “heads” of every one of Heisler’s friends (?) are “hit” by “people” on “an emotional level” their brains need to hit back, high-intensity kickboxing style.   It’s a tough battle. 

The lesson as always: don’t let people get in your head a lot.

And never read the opening paragraph of an AV Club review.