I'm watching "More Treasures from American Film Archives Volume One," a collection which features more muttonchops/minute than a documentary about Canadian Confederation.
Sometimes I find silent films to be tiresome, but this time I'm blessed with running commentary by Jackson, my neighbour's dog.
Jackson's silent film commentary is insightful, especially since he can't actually SEE what I'm watching...all he can HEAR is the torturous ragtime piano they always dub over these things. When the bronco knocks the cowboy off his horse, Jackson lets loose with a machine-gun staccato of sharp, horse-hating barks. When the furniture falls off the back of the carriage, Jackson makes a terrible wet gargling noise, as though he were trying to eat a stinging jellyfish. In the end, when the hero gets the girl, Jackson's only comment is a mournful, ear-piercing howl, as if to say "when will *I* have a girl to love?" Or perhaps he's just saying "HELP!"