Computer Head (2021)
Entertain us. We are the late-night hoards. The chronically tired. The unemployed. Desperate for a quick fix—a date, a dream, a reason, and a meaning. The ones who exist on the edges.
BY JEN SIMPSON
IMAGE BY GREIG SANDERS
Entertain us. We are the late-night hoards. The chronically tired. The unemployed. Desperate for a quick fix—a date, a dream, a reason, and a meaning. The ones who exist on the edges. In halfway houses and basements. Retirement homes and in hospice, where time is ticking terribly by. Tired teenagers too high to rest. Mothers nursing babies through the twilight hours. We sit and watch. And sometimes we laugh. And sometimes we buy. And we are grateful for it all, in the light of the night. We are the moths to the televised glow. Fascinated en masse through a mess of confused transverse orientation, we long for a place to belong. This is how we find our way in the dark.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
With a click of the remote, the screen is no longer plain black. We are in a black and blue kitchen. A man is surrounded by bowls of various sizes. The bowls are full of different fruits and vegetables: red, orange and green peppers, purple onions and eggplants, juicy lemons and waxy cabbages. The man immediately begins speaking and gestures towards the camera. He has flawless skin and a high amount of intense energy, like a Ken doll on meth.
“Hi! It’s Vince with Slap Chop! You’re gonna be in a great mood all day ‘cause you’re gonna be slappin’ your troubles away with Slap Chop!”
His voice has the tonal quality of a manic livestock engineer. We cannot decide if we hate Vince or love him, but we do know that we must keep watching. His unconditional self-assurance demands our attention. In the top left-hand corner, black and white text saying, “Slap Chop,” sparkles to life. Rays shoot out and rotate behind the lettering like a fluorescent sun. As quickly as they came, the words disappear from the screen, fast as a finger snap.
The camera cuts to a close-up of Vince placing a red-skinned potato on the smooth white cutting board. He places the Slap Chop over the potato and suddenly—bam! The potato is no longer whole. It has been cut into four pieces, seemingly by some form of alchemy. As if this is not enough, Vince then places the device back over top of the potato and—bam! Chops again. Where there were once four pieces of potato, there are now eight. He adds a mushroom to the potato and chops, again and again. The camera pans back up to Vince. His spray-tanned skin glows in the studio lights like a freshly picked Florida orange. When he smiles, which is often, his teeth are bright white Chiclets, set in a broad expanse.
Next, Vince is tilting a tin of tuna toward us and telling us, “This tuna looks boring. Stop having a boring tuna, stop having a boring life!”
But how? We wonder, how? Bam!
All our questions are answered as Vince miraculously Slap Chops the tuna in with some carrots and celery. The colours instantly blend together, creating a fascinating palette. Vince is the Van Gogh of slapping and chopping. We see that you can also combine ham, pickle, and a boiled egg together. There is a lot going on, but Vince’s narration throughout carries us along.
“—and you’re going to have an exciting life now,” he promises.
Next, the focus is back on his face, his generously gelled hair spiky like a little porcupine. Behind Vince, we see cupboards lined with blue LED lights installed in the bottom. It’s exciting. The blue matches Vince’s apron. This colour scheme has obviously been well thought out, and the attention to aesthetic detail makes us all grateful. The top of a sink faucet is visible as well as a window with what appear to be plastic plants on the other side of the glass. Does Vince’s real kitchen look like this? Vince now looks directly into the camera and gives it to us straight.
“You’re gonna love my nuts,” he says with a strained expression.
“Watch this.”
The words, “FREE SLAP CHOP OFFER,” appear across the bottom of the screen in white writing as he demonstrates how to make ice cream toppings which would cost too much if any of us were stupid enough to go to an actual ice cream parlour.
Before you know it, Vince begins to disassemble the Slap Chop in three easy steps. He counts them down. One: He pulls the top off. Two: Another small, globe-like piece is removed and three: the machine magically opens, “like a butterfly,” and the inner workings of the Slap Chop are laid bare. The shiny metal innards look so simple, like an oddly shaped cookie cutter encased in white plastic wings. Two shiny sunshine rays reflect off the metal of the Slap Chop, highlighting its absolute and ferocious beauty.
Looking temporarily nauseous, Vince holds up another obviously inferior, though strikingly similar, Slap Chop-esque machine. This is the competitor’s brand. This one’s no good. It doesn’t work and is full of bacteria. Eww!
“Fugged about it!” He says and throws it with the grace of a monkey behind his head and into the awaiting sink. We clap. What else can we do??! What else can we do, Vince? We are on tenterhooks.
Vince moves to a more personal note. A brief look of sadness suddenly appears on his face, the expression of a man at odds with himself and the world. He divulges, while placing a half piece of onion on the cutting board, that:
“…alright. This is making me cry, making you cry. Alright. Life’s hard enough as it is. I don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to cry anymore. We don’t want to cry anymore.”
We immediately stop crying, reach for tissues, and wipe away our salty tears. How did he know? We take bites of New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream and Twinkies and turn up the volume with our remotes. Tell me what else you can do for my life!! We whisper. Vince then earnestly leans toward us and boldly states,
“We’re gonna make America skinny again. One slap at a time.” While pointing at the Slap Chop in his hand. Sweat drips down the backs of necks nationwide, forming small streams between shoulders, but Vince! Vince is cool as a cucumber.
Because he cares about us, he offers to sell the Slap Chop…but that’s not all! He’ll also give us a Graty for cheese! He demonstrates the ease and effectiveness of the Graty by filling it with two small pieces of cheese. One is orange cheddar and the other, mozzarella. He twists the Graty, and the two cheeses merge in a beautiful, shredded cheese braid. This can be so useful. He then demonstrates one more time while chanting the mantra, “Tacos. Fettuccine. Linguine. Martini. Bikini.” as delicate strips of orange and white rain down before our eyes. Everyone reaches for their wallets.
Vince looks right through the camera lens, winks one eye shut, and cocks his head slightly to the right, looking like a drunk mannequin.
“The Slap Chop sells for nineteen ninety-five,” he says, “but if you call now, you’re gonna get the Graty absolutely free! So that’s two for nineteen ninety-five. The Slap Chop and the Graty. Here’s how to order!”
Vince is gone now, and the screen is filled with a close-up of the Slap Chop against a blue background. The price appears on the screen in white writing with fluorescent rays rotating and whirling and dancing behind it. We dial the number on the screen and place our orders. After this is done, we sit back in the spaces on our worn-out couches and smile.
We will make America skinny again! We will save time and money! We will create our own toppings! We will make our lives less boring! While the rest of you sleep, we work tirelessly to keep the world together. It has been said that Buddhist monks radiate peace and salvation throughout the world with their compassion and meditations. Likewise, through our late-night commercial devotion, we keep North America running like a well-oiled machine. We have done our part tonight–our meditation. A change has occurred. Now the light in the hallway beckons, and at last, we are ready to sleep, content with our money-back guarantees.
Jen Simpson is a creative writer, songwriter, and performer based in Toronto, Ontario. Currently completing her Graduate Certificate in Creative Writing at Humber, Jen is working on a full-length memoir, a collection of poetry, and several recording projects.
Image: ComputerHead by Greig Sanders
Edited for publication by Aleeshia Carman, as part of the Professional Writing and Communications Program.
HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.