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Forsgren: Gimme what I want or the I.T. guy gets it!

Movies & TV

In the movie “Airheads,” a trio of lame-brained rock musicians hijack a radio station hoping to get their demo tape on the air. Of course, because the perpetrators are lame-brained rock musicians, the whole plot goes badly off the rails. But, eventually, the band gets their music heard and everybody gets what the movie tells us they deserve.

Why would I bring up such a silly movie that a lot of people have forgotten? Because part of the movie involves the perpetrators forcing the cops to acquiesce to a list of bizarre demands, including a football helmet full of cottage cheese and naked photos of “Golden Girls” star Bea Arthur.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I like to pretend I’m part of the movies that I watch. I’m not sure whether that’s a wanna-be filmmaker thing or one of my own psychological eccentricities. And it’s easy for me to project myself into “Airheads” because Steve Buscemi is almost as funny-looking as I am. You best believe that if I was in “Airheads” in place of Buscemi, I’d be making some changes to that list of demands. Here are a few items I’d insist on or I’d walk, breaking up the band just like Yoko.

  • I know I can’t wipe country music from existence, no matter how much I would love to. So, instead, I’d want every radio station in the world, regardless of format, to play the same trio of songs every day at 3:30 p.m. That trio must consist of “Metal on Metal” by Anvil, “March of the Fire Ants” by Mastodon and “Skyhunter” by Dethklok. That way, I would know that there is at least one time of day I can turn on the radio and hear some killer tunes no matter what station I was tuned to.
  • An endless line of credit at Guitar Center, so I can collect all the awesome guitars, amps and gear the little riffer inside me desires. Don’t worry, I won’t take everything. Just the stuff I really like.

guitar center wall

  • My own biopic directed by Edgar Wright and starring Idris Elba as me. And it should tell the story of how I used my gravitational superpowers to save a bunch of space babes from a one-eyed slave-driving scumbag named Chuck.
  • A three bedroom house on the coast in Iceland. Complete with a comfy couch to sleep on. What? I need the rest of the space for guitar gear.


  • A “Star-Trek” style transporter. Because commuting into work from Iceland any other way would be true drudgery.
  • More shelf space at work. Because I’m running out of space to place cool knick-knacks and my coworker Natalia’s desk is too far away for me to play with my Deadpool bobblehead when I want to.
  • A lifetime supply of beard oil. My beard needs some TLC.
  • A way to contact Anna Kendrick. I don’t want to stalk her or anything creepy like that. I just want to call her and say “What’s up?”


  • Oh, and it would be nice not to go to jail or suffer any other sort of punitive measures.

There are plenty of other things I could demand, but I seriously doubt the cops, or anybody else for that matter, have the power to fix my health problems. And there’s a better chance of Chester the Cat figuring out how to unite quantum mechanics and relativity than there is of someone finding me a girlfriend. But those are just wants. When it comes to what is essential, I think my list has me covered.

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