Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

I moved in that summer, not prepared for a hot, festering several months in a strange, small house that had seen its share of drunken, college parties. I moved in with three other guys who I had known awhile: Dave, Joe, and Jeremiah. We were a motley crew: a punk rock English major, a brusque music major, a science major, and an opinionated psychology major. I was the progressive English major that flirted with anarchism, like a less obnoxious version of Rik from The Young Ones . In some ways, we resembled that troupe, except with far less humor.   Joe was a more conservative psychology major who liked to argue. We were both from the same hometown and had honed our friendship as outsiders. Dave majored in teaching music; he was the authoritarian taskmaster that wanted to keep us in line. Jeremiah, the science major, added a new flavor to our little group of outsiders. We met Jeremiah when he took a room in the house the previous January. He and I would move into another house, T...

As consumers of popular culture, we have often been indoctrinated into the bizarre, yet effective, cult of fake products. Most of us have heard of Duff beer or seen a character asking for a beer or cigarettes and get one easily without thinking about products or personal taste. "Hey, give me a beer?" "Okay sir." No one has to worry about choosing between a Miller Lite or a Craft beer; the world is an easier, less obtrusive place. Devo wouldn't have to advise us about using our freedom of choice if we lived in most versions of TV land. It's more like in Desperado when Steve Buscemi has to accept piss-warm Chango; his response is happy like most television and movie characters when accepting service: "That's my brand. Oh, this is damn good! Say, this is the best beer I've ever had." But what if the choice between fake products rears its funky head? Some of these products are show, director, or movie specific: Futurama has Slurm made fro...