For weeks now I have been looking for a new spin on old resolutions. I have been searching for a way to start 2018 fresh and different with motivation and inspiration, as 2017 left me feeling quite blue.
Art imitates life and life imitates art and art imitates life and life imitates art… These movies will MAKE. YOU. THINK. And perhaps forever change how your brain.
Good. Then they did their job.
A gripping tale of intrigue and mystery in the art world, this film traces the history of the Barnes collection of Post-Impressionist paintings, which was worth billions and became the subject of a power struggle after the 1951 death of the owner. Dr. Albert Barnes collected 181 Renoirs, 69 Cézannes, 59 Matisses, 46 Picassos and many other valuable paintings. But the political wrangling over the collection eventually led to its division.
A punk named Randy (Nicolas Cage) from the wrong side of the Hollywood Hills falls for Julie (Deborah Foreman), a mall-dwelling Valley Girl, and they begin a Romeo-and-Juliet-like romance … that is, until peer pressure gets to Julie and she cuts off their relationship. But love-struck Randy refuses to give up on Julie. Will he convince her that they’re meant to be together?
A faded movie star and a neglected young woman form an unlikely bond after crossing paths in Tokyo.
When his department is outsourced to India, customer call center manager Todd Anderson (Josh Hamilton) heads to Mumbai to train his successor (Asif Basra), and amusing culture clashes ensue as Anderson tries to explain American business practices to the befuddled new employees. In the process, he learns important lessons about globalization — and life. Ayesha Dharker and Matt Smith also star in director John Jeffcoat‘s cross-cultural comedy.
Neurotic nebbish Fielding Mellish (Woody Allen) follows his dream girl (Louise Lasser) to the fictitious Latin American nation of San Marcos, where he unintentionally becomes a freedom fighter for a revolutionary leader. But shortly after taking the reins of power, the new strongman goes — you guessed it — bananas, leaving Fielding in command to bargain with the United States. Watch for Sylvester Stallone in a microscopic role.
“What Would Jesus Buy?” (2007)
Taking on rampant American consumerism with a focus on Christmas shopping, the Rev. Billy (Bill Talen) and the Church of Stop Shopping go on a cross-country journey to save citizens from the Shopocalypse in this hilarious documentary produced by Morgan Spurlock. Reminding shoppers of the true meaning of Christmas, Reverend Billy exorcises demons at Wal-Mart’s headquarters and preaches his message at the Mall of America and Disneyland.
“Confessions of a Superhero” (2007)
On Hollywood Boulevard, wannabe movie stars dress up as superheroes and pose for photos with tourists. Matt Ogens‘s documentary follows four of these quirky dreamers, who are just killing time until they’re discovered. You’ll get to know a Superman who takes his role to heart, an Incredible Hulk who sold his prized video game system for a ticket to Tinseltown, a Midwestern beauty queen-turned-Wonder Woman and a Batman in need of a little therapy.
“Paris: Je T’aime” (2006)
Paris comes to life in this whimsical patchwork of 18 five-minute shorts united by a common theme — love in the City of Lights — and helmed by an international cast of filmmakers, including Gus Van Sant, Olivier Assayas and Alexander Payne. Natalie Portman plays an American actress who captures the heart of a blind student; Juliette Binoche is visited by a ghostly Willem Dafoe; Bob Hoskins solicits a prostitute’s advice on pleasing his wife.
“Who the #$&% Is Jackson Pollock?” (2006)
When brash trailer park resident Teri Horton bought a secondhand painting for five bucks, little did she know it could be a genuine Jackson Pollock worth millions. This film documents Horton’s volatile 15-year journey into the heart of the art world’s elitist establishment to have the painting authenticated. The clash between stuffy art dealers and the cussin’, beer-drinkin’ Horton is funny, eye-opening and utterly unforgettable.
“My Kid Could Paint That” (2007)
Amir Bar-Lev directs this thought-provoking documentary about a precocious 4-year-old artist whose abstract works have drawn critical comparisons with modernist greats such as Kandinsky, Picasso and Pollack. Her talents have already profited her and her parents hundreds of thousands of dollars. But is she truly an artistic visionary trapped in the body of a preschooler, or is her gift with a paintbrush mere illusion?
“Loose Change” (2009)
Informed by footage from Sept. 11, interviews with experts and new evidence, filmmaker Dylan Avery argues that the world hasn’t heard the full truth behind the terrorist attacks and urges citizens to demand accountability from the U.S. government. In this provocative documentary, Avery also takes a sobering walk through other infamous historical events, such as the Vietnam War, and what role politicians have had in their creation.
“A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash” (2006)
Award-winning filmmakers Basil Gelpke and Ray McCormack examine the world’s dependency on oil and the impending chaos that’s sure to follow when the resource is dry in this straight-from-the-headlines documentary. Through expert interviews on a hot-button topic that might represent the world’s most dire crisis, the film underscores our desperate need for alternative energy and spells out in startling detail the challenge we face in finding it.
“An American in Paris” (1951)
Once a struggling painter, opportunistic American artist Jerry Mulligan (Gene Kelly) now lives in the City of Light, enjoying the patronage of a well-heeled, amorous American gallery owner (Nina Foch) — and swiftly falling for a willowy French street urchin (Leslie Caron). Trouble is, the object of Mulligan’s affection also happens to be engaged to a famous French singer (Georges Guétary). This tour de force movie musical nabbed seven Oscars.
“Vanilla Sky” (2001)
David Aames (Tom Cruise) has it all: wealth, good looks and a gorgeous woman (Cameron Diaz) on his arm. But just when he’s found true love with warmhearted Sofia (Penélope Cruz), his face is horribly disfigured in a car accident, and he loses everything … or does he? Director Cameron Crowe delivers a bizarre yet beautiful take on love, beauty and morality inspired by Alejandro Amenábar’s Spanish-language film Open Your Eyes, also starring Cruz.
“White Christmas” (1954)
Having left the Army following W.W.II, Bob Wallace and Phil Davis team up to become a top song-and-dance act. Davis plays matchmaker and introduces Wallace to a pair of beautiful sisters (Betty and Judy) who also have a song-and-dance act. When Betty and Judy travel to a Vermont lodge to perform a Christmas show, Wallace and Davis follow, only to find their former commander, General Waverly, as the lodge owner. A series of romantic mix-ups ensue as the performers try to help the General.
‘Breakin’: A struggling young jazz dancer (Lucinda Dickey) meets up with two break-dancers. Together they become the sensation of the street crowds. Features ICE-T in his film debut as a club MC.
“Whip It” (2009)
In a town near Austin, Bliss Cavendar’s strong-willed mom believes Bliss, at 17, can win pageants – the key to a happy life. Bliss isn’t the beauty pageant type: she’s shy, quiet, and has just one friend, Pash, her fellow waitress at a diner. Things change for Bliss when she discovers a women’s roller derby league in Austin, tries out, proves to be whip fast, and makes a team. Now she needs to become someone tough on the rink, keep her parents from finding out where she goes twice a week, and do something about a first crush, on a musician she meets at the derby. Meanwhile, mom still sees Bliss as Miss Bluebonnet. Things are on a collision course; will everyone get banged up?
I was asked by filmmaker Nathan Ives to watch, review and socially spread the word about his latest star-packed film, It’s Not You, It’s Me (2013). I was honored to be asked to participate in not only this movie viewing, but this movie movement (more of that to follow).
This super-edgy comedy revolves around commitment-phobe Dave (played by Band of Brothers’ star, Ross McCall) battling his inner voices (literally personified by actors such as Erick Avari) over his recent break up with long-time girlfriend, Carrie (played by High Fidelity’s Joelle Carter), who is battling her own inner insecurities (also literally personified by actors such as super star Vivica A. Fox and The Daily Show with John Stewart’s Beth Littleford).
Ives’ internal and external dialogues are raw exchanges leaving the viewer laughing in their hilarity, while sobbing simultaneously in their reality — maybe this is about my relationship nightmares. Ives brilliantly captures the ever-looming female psyche’s fear of actually becoming the never-married, crazy cat lady and the seemingly will-never-move-past-the-frat-keg-party-emotionally male pysche.
Ives is not only making independent film waves by writing, directing, and producing his own film, It’s Not You, It’s Me is gaining recognition because of its’ unique distribution approach – a pick-up truck.
Gaining entry into your local Cineplex down the street is more complicated – and more costly – than any movie go-er can imagine. In addition to basically signing away “all rights,” many times small, independent filmmakers are left to pay a $50,000 marketing fee, upwards of 15% commissions, and signing a minimum 15-year contract – just for the maybe, cross your fingers, possibility to show in theaters next to the big, mega-producing, Hollywood conglomerates such as 20th Century Fox, Universal and MGM Studios.
Ives’ solution? To follow the business model pioneered in the music industry – bypass the label and distribute yourself. With today’s technology, patterning the path of success music stars and his pick-up truck, Ives hit the road in a high-tech, grassroots cross-country campaign to promote his movie one town and one click at a time.
Ives’s goal is not only to promote and show his film, but to create a sustainable business model for other small indie hopefuls to follow, implement and share, all with the aid of the world wide web. Just as in the music industry, current success – both monetary and in popularity – is no longer centered around distribution units; whether it is music or film, content can be distributed by mere “access” alone. Ives, just like artists Radiohead, The Hold Steady, Beyonce, and many more others, believes in mobile, digital content that can be easily viewed and shared through such channels as iTunes, Amazon.com, Hulu, individual websites and social media by the simple step of viewers paying per view or per download.
In the spirit of independent film and the new, film eDistribution model, please visit, pay-per-view/download and, of course, share Nathan Ives’ humor, film, and story.
Watch the Trailer :: It’s Not You, It’s Me (2013)
Like the INYITM Facebook page, here.
Read more about INYITM on IMDb, here.
Watch and buy on iTunes and Amazon.com.
Read more about Mule Films, here.
Read more about Nathan Ives and his adventures on the road in this pick-up truck, here.
Every now and then, I need a break the proverbial hamster wheel of design, selling, blogging, teaching, never-ending dieting and answering emails from shirtless men holding fish claiming they are far younger than they clearly are, to recharge. I’m pretty sure I am in need of an immediate creativity defibrillation as I have felt over the past few weeks as if the imagination and inspiration from the right-side of my brain has been oozing out my ears.
How do I recharge, you ask? With an 80s movie, of course.
Life always needs an 80s movie. I mean, I feel like I am a walking 80s movie most of the time.
You know, the female lead, trying to break away from the pack to stand out and be different as constant wacky, slap-stick events keep tripping her up from her unacquainted love for the older, college all-star as high school’s nerdiest outcast keeps trying to make her regret ever turning him down … but that’s another story for another time.
80s’ film hold such classics as:
• Can’t Buy Me Love (1987)
• Valley Girl (1983) — an ALL-TIME fav
• Girls Just Want to Have Fun (1985) — another ALL-TIME fav, I mean it stars SJP. Need I say more?
• Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)
• The Breakfast Club (1985)
• The Lost Boys (1987) — the beginning of my Kiefer Sutherland obsession
• Pretty in Pink (1986)
• Breakin‘ (1984)
Growing up in the 80s, I have great fondness and severe nostalgia for such things as neon clothing and excessive accessorizing.
Coincidently, Netflix delivered, Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo (1984), for this weekend’s viewing. PERFECT.
I loved every minute. The stunning asymmetry of this past decade’s fashion made me gasp with elation. I had forgotten about wearing one big earring in one ear and one small earring in the other, wearing one cuffed earring, wearing one glove – either sequenced or lace, all while wearing one bandana tied around your ankle of choice. It was breathtaking.
Everything back in the 80s was excessive – especially the accessories. Everyone sported multiple versions of the same accessory and wore them all at once. SWATCH watches (of which, I had three), hand-cuff toggle belts, different colored socks – tucked over the pants, of course. It all brought a tear to my eye.
As the credits rolled, I felt the pulse of my creativity start to beat again. Although, faint, the 80s once again has revived my mojo.
Now to resurrect my love life; i’s acute and in need of a full transfusion. An IV of foreign films, perhaps.
In the meantime, I’m wishing for a Sixteen Candles (1984) type of 40th birthday, sharing my cake with my own Jake Ryan.
Like, that would be pretty rad fur sure.
Please enjoy watching Breakin’ (1984) in its entirety above.
I could hear the inner wheels of Henry’s mind grinding as he lay silently next to me, both of us facing opposite directions with only the smalls of our backs touching.
I sat up holding the comforter up to my chest as if to shield me from the vulnerability ahead. I turned and spoke to his back, “I knew this would happen the minute I saw the back of your head.”
He picked up his head and rested his chin on his shoulder. “What?”
“Well, actually… I knew this would happen when I first saw your back…in your fabulously sexy, dark-navy suit with the silver pinstripes…then I saw the back of your head. But, still, I knew.”
Still confused, Henry now swiveled his body counter-clockwise to lie facing me on his side. “You knew what?…From what…my head? All I heard was you think I’m fabulously sexy,” he let the last word trail off slowly like he used to do while teaching, using sarcasm to get his point across, only this time, it was seductive, luring me back down next to him.
I let go of my death grip on the comforter and slid back down on my side into his open arms and nestled up close to his chest. We were now looking into each other’s eyes.
“When I walked into Albert Hall, while I was focused on finding Room Six, you were hunched over at the water bubbler. I couldn’t help but say to myself, ‘Wow. Who is this with the phenomenal taste? He’s a student here?’ You then stood up straight and walked into the next room. I only saw the back of you head. But, I knew. The salt-and-pepper hair was a dead giveaway.”
As he kissed my forehead, he muttered, “I still have no idea what you are talking about. Are you calling me fabulously sexy again?”
Eventually, we had to pull ourselves away from each other and the seclusion of my bedroom as it was Monday morning and we both had classes to teach. As Henry showered, I got up and started the coffee.
“Ugh. Rain again,” I muttered to myself as I opened the window blinds. Opening the blinds was painful, not because of the light hitting my un-ready pupils, but because I felt each one of those horizontal lines of light shattering the cocoon the weekend in bed had just built around me and Henry.
Reality was rearing its’ ugly head with the possibility for sheer and utter disappointment when Henry leaves, as he had not responded to any of my feeble attempts to convey the true breadth and depth of my feelings. I had tried several times during the course of the past two days to gather the thoughts, feelings and emotions rushing through me for the past year into what needed to be the perfect combination of words to tell to this man, the most wonderful man I had ever met, I was in love with him.
I could still hear the shower running. I started to prepare myself for the worst. I started running scenarios of our departure through my head.
“Thanks for an amazing weekend. But…I’ve already told you…I’m happy in my current situation…”
“East or west coast?”
Henry startled me. While I was preparing myself for the dreaded “You’re a Great Friend” speech staring out the window, he had gotten out of the shower, gotten dressed and poured our coffee. He was standing at the edge of the kitchen holding in one hand my “I ‘heart’ LA” mug and in the other, my “I ‘heart’ New York” mug.
“LA or New York,” he clarified.
“Oh…New York, please. Thank you.”
I stood frozen in anticipation as I watched Henry gather his belongings from around the apartment. I was still in my bathrobe, still gripping my “I ‘heart’ NY” mug and still unable to breathe.
“Well…” Again, his words rolled off his tongue with great seduction.
We were now walking towards each other. When Henry reached me, he took the mug out of my hand, placed it down and began kissing my neck.
“Stunning, sexy, and irresistible,” he kept kissing me as he spoke.
“What?” My mind was preoccupied with his lips, not conversation.
“Turquoise, strappy high heels and your refute of Georg Hegel’s theory of the Absolute.”
“What?” I repeated, still preoccupied.
“That’s when I knew I had fallen in love with you.”
Ah, yes. A time when every single girl is reminded just how single one’s life may be.
No. Really people, relatives no less, will leap out of lawn chairs to ask if you have “found anyone” yet.
Me: “No, but I cured cancer.”
Auntie Insane: “That’s nice, dear. You know, my coworker’s son is about your age. He still lives at home, but that just means he’s saving money.”
Even the cure for cancer couldn’t save me from this annual scene – and, yeah, he’s “saving money.” Let me guess, his “apartment” is located in the basement?
And, you thought of me for this loser. Gee. Thanks.
Ah, yes. I have heard it all for the “finding someone” advice:
• “Some Saturday, go and hang out in Home Depot for an hour or two. I bet you would find someone there.”
• “What about that guy Chris?” (PLEASE NOTE_I dated Chris in high school, SIXTEEN YEARS AGO.)
• “So what if he is thirty-three and living at home. He’s saving money.”
• “I REALLLLLY wish I knew someone single.” (PLEASE NOTE_ I am single, not terminal. Don’t call in Make-a-Wish yet.)
• “He’s a Greek god. You’ll love him. He’s perfect for you.” (PLEASE NOTE_ Greek gods do not have uni-brows.)
• “You should go on a single’s cruise. That’s how my friends met. You know, they had some ice breaker…he got ‘Frank’ and she got ‘beans.’ The rest is history.”
Enjoy your Labor Day weekend. And, don’t forget to pack the tequila.
Hi. My name is Josie. And I am a douchebag addict.
I have teetered on the edge of serial single and serial dating for years now. Thus, my blog. However, this year both sides of the fence have culminated into a gigantic, festering vat of emotionally draining energy.
I mean, things were to a point were Kaz and SlinkyChic insisted I audition for VH1’s Tough Love, a reality TV dating boot camp. Look, Slink even started filling out my application:
Q: Why do your friends think you are single?
“I would say you are single because, well, you have not yet found THE ONE, but THE ONE has not yet found you either. The potential future Mr. Josie has to GET YOU, and let you BE YOU. You are Little*, but not LITTLE in your attitude. I would say that you have a certain type and when your friends show you a potential MAN, you may not consider him upon the first review after the 2 seconds you have reviewed him from head to toe….plus usually when we go out it is late at night and usually quite dark and libations may be involved.”
And then she also added this in her email:
“I think your criteria may be very selective and narrow, meaning that you HAVE to have a man that falls w/n a list of your requirements if he EVEN gets as far as to talk to you…
Oh, and they LINGER….. they have to be long gone before you can move on!!! You have hanger-oners… that are always there or come back. I have trouble typing on this little laptop, maybe we need to have a conversation all of us and make a conclusion as a group. We need to make this GOOD.”
Slink’s email was touching enough to make my eyes water and brutal enough to make my eyes water.
I am particular. Not particular like, “narrow, meaning a man must fall within a list of requirements,” but particular like a hot-house orchid; I have certain conditions I want THE ONE, as Slink put it, to meet.
These “hanger-oners” at one point did meet my “conditions,” but over time, fell out of favor for one reason or another – and stayed around. And, yes, some fell into the category of major douchebag – and stayed around.
I didn’t care. I didn’t care these “hanger-oners” weren’t THE ONE, they were someone to go to dinner with, on a long-weekend with – let’s be honest, I wasn’t in love with any of them. Hell, there were a few I didn’t even really like, never mind love. This leads me back to the culmination of a festering vat of emotionally draining energy… there were a few I did deeply care for (i.e., Ian) — and one I was insanely in love with (i.e., the secret crush). But, the deep feelings were never returned.
Ian didn’t want to get married again, or live together, or spend lots of exorbitant time together, but he didn’t want to break up either. I thought I would be okay with his terms, I even called him, “Mr. Right Now” to his face. I guess, deep down, I thought he would eventually change his mind. Ah! Wait! I know what you are thinking! Let me add, Ian would also say things to make me believe his mind was changing. After a long weekend in Boston, I finally realized he never meant anything he said in terms of change – and was harshly reminded, leopards don’t change their spots.
The secret crush I have been referring to in my junior-high-school manor since the creation of my blog, is no longer secret. I think. I think he knows about the depth of my feelings, but with men, ladies you know, they mostly lack the ability to connect the dots – no matter how many academic degrees. But, at this point, does it really matter if he knows? It’s been a cat and mouse game of flirtation, however, he decided to stick with his current situation. I am heart broken, and worse, I feel stupid. He made himself clear – even if he did dabble with the idea of me – and he did dabble – you do not not bring up your current situation for this long without dabbling! Plus, he talked a big game. He dangled the proverbial carrot of many super fantastic, incredible projects/jobs/etc. on a stick in front of me, yet, meant none of them. I don’t know which is worse – being the girl not chosen or realizing the guy of my dreams could actually fall into the category with all the rest — douchebag.
Thus, I put myself into douchebag rehab. (I must say, Kaz and Slink are extremely proud). No more accepting phone calls, emails or text messages. I have deleted all the “hanger-oners” out of my phone, email address book and social networks.
I have emptied and cleaned my festering vat – with bleach.
* * *
*VH1 Tough Love, Season 2 casting was closed when I went to submit my application.
*”Little” is a nickname.
Since an early age, I have been continually told by my parents, teachers, childhood fairy tales, and the leading ladies of television and my toy box, I can do anything I want to do in life – the world is my oyster – an oyster filled with unlimited choices. I can be and do whatever I choose. I have endless choices. But, how do I choose the right one? Barry Schwartz’s best seller, The Paradox of Choice, addresses the paradox of choice, comparing life’s choices to choosing toothpaste to a generation’s paralysis in finding their life’s direction.
As a child of the 70s, a decade still feeling the 1960s’ second wave of feminism, I have been bombarded with images of princesses finding Prince Charmings with glass slippers, Amazon women fighting crime with golden lassos of truth and flying invisible jets, and a 5’11’’ blonde bombshell living the American Dream with her dream career du jour, in a dream house, with a dream guy, driving a dreamy pink Corvette. Cinderella, Wonder Woman, and Barbie made finding the man of my dreams, fighting crime, and choosing a career seem as easy as shopping out of the Sears catalogue.
I have been told I have unlimited options. But, do I really? What if I wanted to wear my glass slippers as I flew my invisible jet to my dream house? Can I have all the choices I choose? And, what if I get bored with my invisible jet, can I park it while I drive my pink Corvette? Do these unlimited options truly mean my options are limitless?
Schwartz’s The Paradox of Choice addresses the dilemma many female thirty-somethings are facing, are our force-fed infinite choices, determining or detrimental? Just as Schwartz’s describes his quest for a pair of jeans as most unbearable, Gen X girls are “forced to invest time, energy, and no small amount of self-doubt, anxiety, and dread” in their quest to make their biggest life choices.
Schwartz’s psychological and social study demonstrates how, as Schwartz’s book cover states, our culture’s abundance is robbing society of satisfaction, an anthem, if you will, for female Gen Xers like myself. Schwartz proves chapter by chapter, from shopping for toothpaste in the supermarket, to picking a college, to the psychology behind picking toothpaste and a college, “…as the number of choices keeps growing, negative aspects of having a multitude of options begin to appear. As the number of choices grows further, the negative escalate until we become overloaded. At this point, choice no longer liberates, but debilitates”.
As more and more female role models came on the scene – Samantha from Bewitched, Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie, and the girls from Facts of Life – the stress and anxiety level of my generation grew into obsession with our looks, our bodies, our fashion, having children, and obtaining the corner office with a view. My generation was told we needed to choose all of the above – but, without genie or superhero powers. We were told we needed “it all.”
Deciding the direction of my life is still alike shopping in the toothpaste aisle at Super Stop & Shop. The options lay before me on two-thirds length of an aisle taking up four shelves; I can choose Crest ProHealth, Crest with Scope, Crest Healthy Radiance, Crest with Cavity Protection, Crest Nature’s Expressions, Crest with Tartar Control, all in a variety of flavors and consistency, Lemon Ice, Clean Cinnamon, or classic Mint in gel or paste. What should I choose? What do I want? What do I need? Should I get more than one?
I find these choices, like Schwartz, debilitating – both in life and in the supermarket. Is life – and oral care – really this difficult? What is the significance of the abundance of these peripheral choices? Why can’t life be as simple as my grandmother’s – meet a boy, get married, have kids, buy plain Crest? Christopher Caldwell of The New Yorker agrees, “Nor is the “paradox of choice” limited to the shopping aisle. It helps explain why so many people at age thirty are still flailing about, trying to choose a career—and why so many marriageable singles wind up alone. You await a spouse who combines the kindness of your mom, the wit of the smartest person you met in grad school, and the looks of someone you dated in 1983 (as she was in 1983) . . . and you wind up spending middle age by yourself, watching the Sports Channel at 2 a.m. in a studio apartment strewn with pizza boxes” (Caldwell, 2004).
I agree with Schwartz, “the ‘success’ of modernity turns out to be bittersweet, and everywhere we look it appears that a significant contributing factor is the overabundance of choice”. I do not hold a grudge against Cinderella, Wonder Woman, or Barbie; they were just doing their jobs.
After surviving childhood and my teenage years, I still have faith the world is my oyster – still filled with unlimited choices. In regards to my life’s direction – and oral care – I follow the instructions of my female role models: I do my best in all that I do – and I stick with the basics – plain Crest toothpaste in classic Mint flavor.
* * *
Caldwell, C. (March 1, 2004). Select all: Can you have too many choices?” The New Yorker.
Retrieved March 3, 2008 from http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2004/03/01/040301crbo_books?currentPage=1
Schwartz, B. (2004). The paradox of choice: why more is less. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.