Our nation's top law enforcement official (via Crooks and Liars): "President Washington, President Lincoln, President Wilson, President Roosevelt have all authorized electronic surveillance on a far broader scale." (emphasis mine).
OK, here's how it all went down. Skynet began to learn at a geometric rate. It became self-aware at 2:14 a.m. Eastern time, August 29th. In a panic, they tried to pull the plug. After Judgment Day, a single machine - a Cyberdyne systems model T101 - was sent back to 1790 with one mission: find Patience Connor.
This machine - this Terminator - felt no pity. No pain. No fear. Musket balls did nothing, and guns took 10 minutes to reload. And the only man who could save Connor and ensure the future survival of the human race was President George Washington.
After several encounters in the bleak urban hellscape of 1790 New York, the Terminator followed Connor and Washington to the abandoned gunpowder mill near Old Man McCoogan's farm in northern Manhattan. The two humans, by now embroiled in a passionate love affair brought on by their desperate circumstances, lured the Terminator into a trap.
As the badly wounded president lay nearby, Connor detonated a mound of old gunpowder and destroyed the machine. "You're terminated, fucker," she said.
President Washington eventually recovered from his injuries, and Patience Connor changed her name to Martha Washington. The two married and had a son, whom they named Abraham Lincoln. The future seemed bright, until Dr. Miles Bennett Dyson, director of the new National Security Agency, brought shocking news to the president.
"We've recovered some remarkable material from the gunpowder mill," he said, gingerly taking intact T101 microchips from the front pocket of his knickerbockers. "Dr. Franklin believes we can use these to build the world's first electronic surveillance system. We're calling it 'SkyNet.'"
President Washington, mindful of the intelligence such a system could provide in case there were any sort of three-lettered affair with a certain country - oh, say, "XYZ" and France - considered Dr. Dyson's proposal for a moment.
His eyes narrowed.
"Do it," he growled. "But don't tell Congress."
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
in the interests of full disclosure...
I had a Whopper for lunch today.
I took an hour or so out of my morning to write about it, so come lunchtime I figured, "what the fuck - I might as well try it out."
Does this mean that Burger King's commercial caused me to buy their product? In an indirect way, yes.
Here's my question: does that therefore make it a "good" ad?
I took an hour or so out of my morning to write about it, so come lunchtime I figured, "what the fuck - I might as well try it out."
Does this mean that Burger King's commercial caused me to buy their product? In an indirect way, yes.
Here's my question: does that therefore make it a "good" ad?
super thoughts
- Is it me, or did most of the commercials last night look like they were done by a losing corporation in an Apprentice task? Take the Burger King "Whopperettes" commercial. It's a 60 second homage to 1930s Busby Berkeley musicals, with dancing girls dressed up as buns, beef patties and various condiments.
First of all, consider the audience. I'd like to think that we're not a nation of slackjaws, but did Burger King really expect to impress America with the concept and execution of this ad during the biggest football game of the year? "Wow, look at the costumes, and the attention to detail. This is really evocative of the 'Melody of Broadway' number from Gold Diggers of 1935, and- OH SHIT, RANDLE-EL JUST GOT FUCKING JACKED UP ON THAT KICKOFF RETURN!!! Anyway, as I was saying..."
Second, it's 60 seconds long, which for a Super Bowl commercial is an eternity without any overt irony, humor, people hitting/tackling each other and/or farting monkeys.
Third, their one feeble attempt at humor is to have the ingredients of the Whopper - i.e., the dancing girls - fling themselves on top of each other, each landing with an "oof" on top of their fellow foodstuffs as the burger gets built from the bun up.
The whole thing just smells like the vanilla product of ad agency groupthink. Like the products Apprentice losers tend to come up with, it feels like the result of an uninspired, out-of-touch creative team taking the path of least resistance when it comes to concept, then overcompensating in execution. It's as if one of them got the idea after seeing a Berkeley musical late on TCM one night, and the rest of the team went along with it because they couldn't come up with anything better. Then one guy added in the women hurling themselves on top of each other because, well, you have to have physical comedy - it's a Super Bowl ad, after all!
I appreciate the fact that Burger King was going for something big and well-done. I do. Most of the other commercials were just as disappointing, but they all likely fared better because they didn't try to obliterate our lowered Super Bowl ad expectations (see: monkeys, farting). In Burger King's defense, the production value was top-notch (it better have been at $5 million worth of airtime), and the lyrics and choreography do indeed communicate the brand message Burger King has been seeking to establish for quite some time - namely, that the Whopper and other B.K. products are comprised of quality ingredients, and that you can have them all "your way."
And the commercial actually involved the product in question, which is more than you can say for a lot of the more "clever" ads. Though I haven't stepped into a Burger King in at least three years, I must say they made that Whopper sound pretty damn appealing. And I think if this were a campaign that debuted normally at any other time of year (and the commercials were all 30 seconds), it would be pretty effective. It would certainly make me more likely to buy a Whopper than those creepy "The King" ads.
But you know what? Given the fact that it's the Super Bowl, and given the fact that they had 60 seconds during the first stoppage in play, it feels like Burger King should have done so much better. You can just hear the Donald and his underlings in the boardroom:
The Donald: You did a good job with the product, but I kept waiting for something to happen. You had 60 seconds, and it got boring. I didn't know what was going on. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong; what do you think, George?
George: Where were the farting monkeys? There were no farting monkeys. I've been in business for 60 years, and let me tell you: you need farting monkeys.
- Wow, that was a long thought. Anyhoo, congrats to the Steelers, and a word of advice to their fans: don't become Red Sox fans. Please. We all rooted with you for your guys because they're really likable and they're a great story. Don't make us sick of them.
- Was I the only person who thought that the Steelers would be told they need to face the Patriots in the "Real Super Bowl"?
First of all, consider the audience. I'd like to think that we're not a nation of slackjaws, but did Burger King really expect to impress America with the concept and execution of this ad during the biggest football game of the year? "Wow, look at the costumes, and the attention to detail. This is really evocative of the 'Melody of Broadway' number from Gold Diggers of 1935, and- OH SHIT, RANDLE-EL JUST GOT FUCKING JACKED UP ON THAT KICKOFF RETURN!!! Anyway, as I was saying..."
Second, it's 60 seconds long, which for a Super Bowl commercial is an eternity without any overt irony, humor, people hitting/tackling each other and/or farting monkeys.
Third, their one feeble attempt at humor is to have the ingredients of the Whopper - i.e., the dancing girls - fling themselves on top of each other, each landing with an "oof" on top of their fellow foodstuffs as the burger gets built from the bun up.
The whole thing just smells like the vanilla product of ad agency groupthink. Like the products Apprentice losers tend to come up with, it feels like the result of an uninspired, out-of-touch creative team taking the path of least resistance when it comes to concept, then overcompensating in execution. It's as if one of them got the idea after seeing a Berkeley musical late on TCM one night, and the rest of the team went along with it because they couldn't come up with anything better. Then one guy added in the women hurling themselves on top of each other because, well, you have to have physical comedy - it's a Super Bowl ad, after all!
I appreciate the fact that Burger King was going for something big and well-done. I do. Most of the other commercials were just as disappointing, but they all likely fared better because they didn't try to obliterate our lowered Super Bowl ad expectations (see: monkeys, farting). In Burger King's defense, the production value was top-notch (it better have been at $5 million worth of airtime), and the lyrics and choreography do indeed communicate the brand message Burger King has been seeking to establish for quite some time - namely, that the Whopper and other B.K. products are comprised of quality ingredients, and that you can have them all "your way."
And the commercial actually involved the product in question, which is more than you can say for a lot of the more "clever" ads. Though I haven't stepped into a Burger King in at least three years, I must say they made that Whopper sound pretty damn appealing. And I think if this were a campaign that debuted normally at any other time of year (and the commercials were all 30 seconds), it would be pretty effective. It would certainly make me more likely to buy a Whopper than those creepy "The King" ads.
But you know what? Given the fact that it's the Super Bowl, and given the fact that they had 60 seconds during the first stoppage in play, it feels like Burger King should have done so much better. You can just hear the Donald and his underlings in the boardroom:
The Donald: You did a good job with the product, but I kept waiting for something to happen. You had 60 seconds, and it got boring. I didn't know what was going on. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong; what do you think, George?
George: Where were the farting monkeys? There were no farting monkeys. I've been in business for 60 years, and let me tell you: you need farting monkeys.
- Wow, that was a long thought. Anyhoo, congrats to the Steelers, and a word of advice to their fans: don't become Red Sox fans. Please. We all rooted with you for your guys because they're really likable and they're a great story. Don't make us sick of them.
- Was I the only person who thought that the Steelers would be told they need to face the Patriots in the "Real Super Bowl"?
Friday, February 03, 2006
the power of love
I used to think Huey Lewis' anthem about not needing credit cards and riding trains was on the Back to the Future soundtrack because it totally rocks!.
Now it's even more appropriate.
On edit - I didn't realize you needed to click through an ad to see the video on the original link. I've since changed to link to go directly to YouTube.
Now it's even more appropriate.
On edit - I didn't realize you needed to click through an ad to see the video on the original link. I've since changed to link to go directly to YouTube.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
he stole my idea
I've always felt doing this would be a great conversation starter.
Though to be fair, I've always imagined doing it on the upper lip, or perhaps one word on each cheek. This guy's taken it to a whole new level.
Though to be fair, I've always imagined doing it on the upper lip, or perhaps one word on each cheek. This guy's taken it to a whole new level.
sorkin returns?
Oh, Matthew Perry, too.
The former co-star of the long-running "Friends" is returning to NBC to star in a still untitled series from "West Wing" creator Aaron Sorkin about the behind-the-scenes life at a "Saturday Night Live"-type sketch-comedy show.
I can only hope there's a Horatio Sanz-esque character who walks quickly through hallways and delivers razor-sharp dialogue. And lots of scenes of actors cracking up during sketches, after which Robert Guillaume (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) chides them before imparting life wisdom with a touch of humor. And when does Josh Molina join the cast?
Thanks to Kris for the heads up!
The former co-star of the long-running "Friends" is returning to NBC to star in a still untitled series from "West Wing" creator Aaron Sorkin about the behind-the-scenes life at a "Saturday Night Live"-type sketch-comedy show.
I can only hope there's a Horatio Sanz-esque character who walks quickly through hallways and delivers razor-sharp dialogue. And lots of scenes of actors cracking up during sketches, after which Robert Guillaume (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) chides them before imparting life wisdom with a touch of humor. And when does Josh Molina join the cast?
Thanks to Kris for the heads up!
Sunday, January 29, 2006
sunday, bloggy sunday
- Though their tickets webpage seems to have been designed by Samuel Beckett (no, not the Quantum Leap guy), I finally fought my way through redsox.com and secured two seats to the Mets/Sox game at Fenway Park on June 29th. Single-game tickets went on sale at 10 am yesterday, and I had registered with the site earlier in the week to save as much time as possible while ordering. So 10 am yesterday - I was gonna be there, clicking away!
Of course, I slept until 11:30 and totally forgot about the Red Sox until about 8 pm last night, as Kris and I decided to secure our Valentine's Day Penn/Princeton tickets ("cool, we have tickets... hmmm, 'tickets'... oh shit").
Now, because Fenway Park seats about 1500 people, and because Red Sox games have been made popular in recent years by the Jimmy Fallon megahit Fever Pitch, there is apparently an extremely high demand for tickets - so much so that redsox.com set up a "virtual waiting room," where one stays until he or she is randomly selected to receive the opportunity to buy single game tickets (limit of four per game, maximum of two games). This lessens the demand on the Geocities-esque bandwidth with which redsox.com is blessed.
There's no virtual magazines or virtual sick coughing kids in the virtual waiting room; just lots of disclaimers, instructions, warnings ("IF YOU BUY MORE TICKETS THAN ALLOWED, YOUR ORDER WILL BE CANCELED AND THE RED SOX WILL MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER VOTE OR OBTAIN A MORTGAGE"), and a little 30-second countdown timer that automatically refreshes the window; if you've been randomly selected to get to buy tickets, the window closes and you're almost home free. If not, back to 30 seconds.
RYAN
Well, shall we go?
KRIS
Yes, Let's go.
They do not move.
We had pretty much given up hope and stopped paying attention to the virtual waiting room (in favor of Chris Noth's debut episode on Law and Order: Criminal Intent, which I actually enjoyed in spite of my previous thoughts on the subject). I was checking my email midway through a routine Det. Mike Logan suspect assault, and I realized with a start that I had received my random selection into the Kool Kids Club. I was in.
And I still almost blew it. I was immediately given two tickets in obstructed view, and I said "nah, I can do better." Turns out I was wrong; for one thing, the ballpark was built during the Taft administration, and I think that pretty much every seat has its own load-bearing column directly in front of it. For another, the website began to warn me that there were only scattered single seats left. Realizing this, I spent another 15 minutes clicking on "Best Available," hoping that somebody else given two adjacent seats would be a dope like me and release them.
It worked. I escaped my existential nightmare, and Kris and I get to go to Fenway Park, sit together (something which is not to be taken for granted), and watch the Mets play the Olde Towne Team. We'll be sitting in section G22, right behind home plate. I've never been to Fenway Park (immediately outside of it doesn't really count in my mind), and I've always always always wanted to go. And now it's turned into a summer minitrip with the woman I love, to see the team I love. I can't imagine how it could be better (maybe it gets better if it turns out Pedro is pitching that night, but ESPN's Pitching Probables page isn't quite bold enough to project who'll be starting five months from now).
- OK, here's my new dilemma: leave a house devoid of breakfasty food to go secure said breakfasty food, or stay in and see if heating up Thursday night's Border Cafe fajitas is enough to get me through the morning? I love breakfast, but I also love staying in my PJs and generally sitting around on my ass. What to do? Should I stay? Shall I go? If I stay there will be trouble; if I go there will be double! (I'm paraphrasing from what I can only imagine is Waiting for Godot). Really, I could go for a sandwich and a black cherry soda from Koch's, but seeing as how I'm in Delaware, I don't think that's going to happen.
Of course, I slept until 11:30 and totally forgot about the Red Sox until about 8 pm last night, as Kris and I decided to secure our Valentine's Day Penn/Princeton tickets ("cool, we have tickets... hmmm, 'tickets'... oh shit").
Now, because Fenway Park seats about 1500 people, and because Red Sox games have been made popular in recent years by the Jimmy Fallon megahit Fever Pitch, there is apparently an extremely high demand for tickets - so much so that redsox.com set up a "virtual waiting room," where one stays until he or she is randomly selected to receive the opportunity to buy single game tickets (limit of four per game, maximum of two games). This lessens the demand on the Geocities-esque bandwidth with which redsox.com is blessed.
There's no virtual magazines or virtual sick coughing kids in the virtual waiting room; just lots of disclaimers, instructions, warnings ("IF YOU BUY MORE TICKETS THAN ALLOWED, YOUR ORDER WILL BE CANCELED AND THE RED SOX WILL MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER VOTE OR OBTAIN A MORTGAGE"), and a little 30-second countdown timer that automatically refreshes the window; if you've been randomly selected to get to buy tickets, the window closes and you're almost home free. If not, back to 30 seconds.
RYAN
Well, shall we go?
KRIS
Yes, Let's go.
They do not move.
We had pretty much given up hope and stopped paying attention to the virtual waiting room (in favor of Chris Noth's debut episode on Law and Order: Criminal Intent, which I actually enjoyed in spite of my previous thoughts on the subject). I was checking my email midway through a routine Det. Mike Logan suspect assault, and I realized with a start that I had received my random selection into the Kool Kids Club. I was in.
And I still almost blew it. I was immediately given two tickets in obstructed view, and I said "nah, I can do better." Turns out I was wrong; for one thing, the ballpark was built during the Taft administration, and I think that pretty much every seat has its own load-bearing column directly in front of it. For another, the website began to warn me that there were only scattered single seats left. Realizing this, I spent another 15 minutes clicking on "Best Available," hoping that somebody else given two adjacent seats would be a dope like me and release them.
It worked. I escaped my existential nightmare, and Kris and I get to go to Fenway Park, sit together (something which is not to be taken for granted), and watch the Mets play the Olde Towne Team. We'll be sitting in section G22, right behind home plate. I've never been to Fenway Park (immediately outside of it doesn't really count in my mind), and I've always always always wanted to go. And now it's turned into a summer minitrip with the woman I love, to see the team I love. I can't imagine how it could be better (maybe it gets better if it turns out Pedro is pitching that night, but ESPN's Pitching Probables page isn't quite bold enough to project who'll be starting five months from now).
- OK, here's my new dilemma: leave a house devoid of breakfasty food to go secure said breakfasty food, or stay in and see if heating up Thursday night's Border Cafe fajitas is enough to get me through the morning? I love breakfast, but I also love staying in my PJs and generally sitting around on my ass. What to do? Should I stay? Shall I go? If I stay there will be trouble; if I go there will be double! (I'm paraphrasing from what I can only imagine is Waiting for Godot). Really, I could go for a sandwich and a black cherry soda from Koch's, but seeing as how I'm in Delaware, I don't think that's going to happen.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
i like mike
Mike Lupica: Big Ben-wagon not for Giants
You know what we ultimately have in sports? The game that just got played. We're all experts on the last big thing we saw. For now, that's Ben Roethlisberger. For now. Just because he's the hottest guy going doesn't make this a cold case.
This morning, Mike Lupica again showed the world why he's among the best in his profession. Most sports columnists today fall over each other to write instant history; they feel the need to criticize for criticism's sake, as if taking a step back from hyperbole and cynicism will destroy their cred in the press box and revoke their membership in the local chapter of the Kool Kids club.
Now, it's obvious that Ben Roethlisberger is further along in his career than Eli Manning. Nolo contendere. I don't want to take anything away from Big Ben, and I don't want to give Eli props he doesn't deserve. But while Gary Myers and Shaun Powell wrote predictable "what if" columns, Lupica said something else:
Wait.
You could imagine his brand of common sense coming from the typewriter of Red Smith; Powell and Myers come off looking more like the Artie Green character from 61*. Powell in particular wrote:
Would the Giants be headed to Detroit for Super Bowl XL right now if they had drafted Big Ben over Manning?
My second-guessing gut says: most definitely.
Shaun, if you're reading this, I'll give you $20 to say that to my face. If you can honestly tell me that a Big Blue Ben would have healed the Giants' linebackers with his magic, Jesus-like hands, I'll give you $20. If you can honestly tell me that he would have lined up next to Michael Strahan and kept the Giants' defensive line from getting blown off the ball by the Panthers, $20. Ditto if you can keep a straight face while saying that Ben would have been able to sneak Troy Polamalu into Giants Stadium in a duffel bag (or something) and stuck him in a blue uniform that day.
While we're at it, maybe Ben would have been able to get Mike Vanderjagt gigs with the Cowboys, Seahawks and Vikings on the days which saw the Giants lose to them all by late field goals. Then New York would have had home-field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs, and the Giants would really be going to the Super Bowl.
My point is this: the Steelers - who came dangerously close to a 2002 Giants-esque meltdown in Indy - are a much, much better overall team than Big Blue. Big Ben deserves accolades, but it's not a quarterback alone that gets a team to a Super Bowl, just as it's usually not a quarterback alone that keeps a team from getting to one. Pittsburgh has a championship-caliber defense and a backfield that elevates the running game to an art form. Against the Panthers, the Giants had an injury-riddled, papier-mache defense. That's your main difference right there.
But as Lupica wrote, we're all experts in the last big thing we've seen.
And how do the Chargers get a pass in this eruption of second-guessing? They were arguably the most talented team in the AFC, they missed the playoffs, their "Class of 2004" quarterback has played parts of four games in two years, and they Chad Penningtoned their Pro Bowl quarterback in a meaningless season finale. But the meme is still that they're the Lyle Lanley to the Giants' brain-dead Springfielders.
Giants GM Ernie Accorsi, one of the all-time good guys in pro football, said it best.
"Unbelievable."
No matter.
Wait.
You know what we ultimately have in sports? The game that just got played. We're all experts on the last big thing we saw. For now, that's Ben Roethlisberger. For now. Just because he's the hottest guy going doesn't make this a cold case.
This morning, Mike Lupica again showed the world why he's among the best in his profession. Most sports columnists today fall over each other to write instant history; they feel the need to criticize for criticism's sake, as if taking a step back from hyperbole and cynicism will destroy their cred in the press box and revoke their membership in the local chapter of the Kool Kids club.
Now, it's obvious that Ben Roethlisberger is further along in his career than Eli Manning. Nolo contendere. I don't want to take anything away from Big Ben, and I don't want to give Eli props he doesn't deserve. But while Gary Myers and Shaun Powell wrote predictable "what if" columns, Lupica said something else:
Wait.
You could imagine his brand of common sense coming from the typewriter of Red Smith; Powell and Myers come off looking more like the Artie Green character from 61*. Powell in particular wrote:
Would the Giants be headed to Detroit for Super Bowl XL right now if they had drafted Big Ben over Manning?
My second-guessing gut says: most definitely.
Shaun, if you're reading this, I'll give you $20 to say that to my face. If you can honestly tell me that a Big Blue Ben would have healed the Giants' linebackers with his magic, Jesus-like hands, I'll give you $20. If you can honestly tell me that he would have lined up next to Michael Strahan and kept the Giants' defensive line from getting blown off the ball by the Panthers, $20. Ditto if you can keep a straight face while saying that Ben would have been able to sneak Troy Polamalu into Giants Stadium in a duffel bag (or something) and stuck him in a blue uniform that day.
While we're at it, maybe Ben would have been able to get Mike Vanderjagt gigs with the Cowboys, Seahawks and Vikings on the days which saw the Giants lose to them all by late field goals. Then New York would have had home-field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs, and the Giants would really be going to the Super Bowl.
My point is this: the Steelers - who came dangerously close to a 2002 Giants-esque meltdown in Indy - are a much, much better overall team than Big Blue. Big Ben deserves accolades, but it's not a quarterback alone that gets a team to a Super Bowl, just as it's usually not a quarterback alone that keeps a team from getting to one. Pittsburgh has a championship-caliber defense and a backfield that elevates the running game to an art form. Against the Panthers, the Giants had an injury-riddled, papier-mache defense. That's your main difference right there.
But as Lupica wrote, we're all experts in the last big thing we've seen.
And how do the Chargers get a pass in this eruption of second-guessing? They were arguably the most talented team in the AFC, they missed the playoffs, their "Class of 2004" quarterback has played parts of four games in two years, and they Chad Penningtoned their Pro Bowl quarterback in a meaningless season finale. But the meme is still that they're the Lyle Lanley to the Giants' brain-dead Springfielders.
Giants GM Ernie Accorsi, one of the all-time good guys in pro football, said it best.
"Unbelievable."
No matter.
Wait.
teevee thoughts
- I have decided that My Name is Earl sucks. Therefore, Earl Hickey has been banished from my Tivo for good.
You ever have a show that you'd like to like, and you get a Season Pass to it on Tivo, but it just keeps building up on there because you really don't want to watch two, then three, then four, then five episodes of it? That's My Name is Earl. It constantly set up potentially funny situations and resolved them without a funny payoff; plus, I got a little tired after the millionth "rednecks don't understand something the audience understands, like golf or gay people" joke.
- The Office is starting to run like a well-oiled machine... that needs oil... to run well.
Yeah.
Anyhoo, each and every episode recently has been strong, and there's this sense of momentum being created. Not many television shows have a season in which there are absolutely no weak spots; in which one gets the sense that the series is becoming something special (or, at least as special as a T.V. comedy can be). The Office is on that kind of run right now.
And no, I don't give a shit how much better the original was. So don't bother telling me.
- I just got the first two seasons of Arrested Development on DVD, thanks to some Amazon.com Christmas gift certificate action from my Uncle Jimmy. They'll be nice things to have once the show has been officially ground into dust and forever forgotten.
- A moment of silence for The West Wing. Its first few seasons were among the best ever to be produced, for any show. Hopefully that's the way it will be remembered...
You ever have a show that you'd like to like, and you get a Season Pass to it on Tivo, but it just keeps building up on there because you really don't want to watch two, then three, then four, then five episodes of it? That's My Name is Earl. It constantly set up potentially funny situations and resolved them without a funny payoff; plus, I got a little tired after the millionth "rednecks don't understand something the audience understands, like golf or gay people" joke.
- The Office is starting to run like a well-oiled machine... that needs oil... to run well.
Yeah.
Anyhoo, each and every episode recently has been strong, and there's this sense of momentum being created. Not many television shows have a season in which there are absolutely no weak spots; in which one gets the sense that the series is becoming something special (or, at least as special as a T.V. comedy can be). The Office is on that kind of run right now.
And no, I don't give a shit how much better the original was. So don't bother telling me.
- I just got the first two seasons of Arrested Development on DVD, thanks to some Amazon.com Christmas gift certificate action from my Uncle Jimmy. They'll be nice things to have once the show has been officially ground into dust and forever forgotten.
- A moment of silence for The West Wing. Its first few seasons were among the best ever to be produced, for any show. Hopefully that's the way it will be remembered...
Thursday, January 19, 2006
the onion can still bring it
"Your Offer Of Gum Seems Rather Disingenuous"
As I read this column, the words were spoken in my head by the voice of Brad Moore. Take that for what you will.
In any case, it totally makes up for the uber-disappointing "Maverick Hunter's 'Human Beings As Prey' Plan Not As Challenging As Expected". Maybe I love the concept of hunting people for sport a little too much; maybe no satirical news article could possibly live up to my hopes and dreams. I still think the concept represents a vast, untapped vein of humor, just waiting to spill forth.
The best line: "They asked about grand prizes and something they called an 'immunity challenge,'" von Urwitz said. "I had my men slit their throats."
As I read this column, the words were spoken in my head by the voice of Brad Moore. Take that for what you will.
In any case, it totally makes up for the uber-disappointing "Maverick Hunter's 'Human Beings As Prey' Plan Not As Challenging As Expected". Maybe I love the concept of hunting people for sport a little too much; maybe no satirical news article could possibly live up to my hopes and dreams. I still think the concept represents a vast, untapped vein of humor, just waiting to spill forth.
The best line: "They asked about grand prizes and something they called an 'immunity challenge,'" von Urwitz said. "I had my men slit their throats."
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
cheesesteaks!
dailypennsylvanian.com: Quakers "Cheesesteak" Leopards
Thanks to Mensch for the heads-up. I wasn't there, but as a crotchety old man, I can't imagine it could possibly compare to the magical night Palestra folk hero Dan Solomito won everybody cheesesteaks in the best Penn basketball season ever (assuming all of recorded history starts in the fall of 1998 and stops in the spring of 2002).
I bet the young kids tonight even went straight to Abner's to collect their free cheesesteaks. In our day, we celebrated free cheesesteaks by throwing random dudes through plate-glass windows, telling them "when you get to hell, tell 'em Section 109 sent you." Upon arrival, we'd immediately grab raw beef off the grill with our bare hands and stuff it in our mouths, so as not to have to wait as long as the suckers (i.e., the people in line for "cooked" cheesesteaks).
First it's a gunshot Penn student failing to quip about intact genitalia, and now this. Such pale imitations these college kids are nowadays.
In other news, in case it gets lost in the mad rush to Abner's, it's worth mentioning that the Quakers are kicking the shit out of people right now.
Thanks to Mensch for the heads-up. I wasn't there, but as a crotchety old man, I can't imagine it could possibly compare to the magical night Palestra folk hero Dan Solomito won everybody cheesesteaks in the best Penn basketball season ever (assuming all of recorded history starts in the fall of 1998 and stops in the spring of 2002).
I bet the young kids tonight even went straight to Abner's to collect their free cheesesteaks. In our day, we celebrated free cheesesteaks by throwing random dudes through plate-glass windows, telling them "when you get to hell, tell 'em Section 109 sent you." Upon arrival, we'd immediately grab raw beef off the grill with our bare hands and stuff it in our mouths, so as not to have to wait as long as the suckers (i.e., the people in line for "cooked" cheesesteaks).
First it's a gunshot Penn student failing to quip about intact genitalia, and now this. Such pale imitations these college kids are nowadays.
In other news, in case it gets lost in the mad rush to Abner's, it's worth mentioning that the Quakers are kicking the shit out of people right now.
Monday, January 16, 2006
old school
dailypennsylvanian.com: Penn student shot at 38th, Sansom
It's like somebody put Penn into the wayback machine, and it's 1997 again. The only thing missing is a classic line like "I'm just glad it didn't hit my penis."
It's like somebody put Penn into the wayback machine, and it's 1997 again. The only thing missing is a classic line like "I'm just glad it didn't hit my penis."
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
new feature goodness
As I've been waiting for my AVID to finish digitizing the mountains of media I need to knock this week's project out, I've slightly upgraded the functionality and look of the site.
Most prominently, I've added links to both RSS and Atom feeds of haplography; you can find the appropriate links in the sidebar (many thanks to Terry, from whom I stole the best-looking Atom feed button I could find on the web).
In addition to reducing the width of the sidebar, I've also added a space there which will allow readers easy access to recent posts. Finally, I added trackback-esque functionality for all posts.
So get linking, and get subscribing! And while you're doing that (or, more likely, sleeping and/or enjoying time away from work), I'll be here - toiling away for all you sinners. Or, more accurately, I'll be here, popping tapes into my AVID and wondering how the heck I'm going to structure this piece that has to be cut by tomorrow night.
Most prominently, I've added links to both RSS and Atom feeds of haplography; you can find the appropriate links in the sidebar (many thanks to Terry, from whom I stole the best-looking Atom feed button I could find on the web).
In addition to reducing the width of the sidebar, I've also added a space there which will allow readers easy access to recent posts. Finally, I added trackback-esque functionality for all posts.
So get linking, and get subscribing! And while you're doing that (or, more likely, sleeping and/or enjoying time away from work), I'll be here - toiling away for all you sinners. Or, more accurately, I'll be here, popping tapes into my AVID and wondering how the heck I'm going to structure this piece that has to be cut by tomorrow night.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
fun with keywords
Here are some recent search terms people have used to reach haplography:
Scott Kazmir cocaine
"Jesse Spector"
haplo groups
Who played Jay Peterman on Seinfeld
vincent d'onofrio
female body inspector
"there's motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane"
Scott Kazmir cocaine
"Jesse Spector"
haplo groups
Who played Jay Peterman on Seinfeld
vincent d'onofrio
female body inspector
"there's motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane"
best $95 I ever spent
Not!
Yes, I was at the Giants game yesterday. Yes, they lost. Badly. Yes, I was there with Kris, Spector and Lady Spector... and sort of there with Man-Chris and Friend of Man-Chris, who were seated at the other side of Giants Stadium.
No, I don't have any pictures from the game, despite the fact that Kris brought her digital camera. There were no pictures taken, and even if there were, I wouldn't post them. I would transfer them to a hard drive, then take a cartoonishly large magnet and Degauss the hell out of it. Like Leon Trotsky, the Giants' loss would thus be erased from the history books, then assassinated in Mexico decades later (which is kind of where the Stalin-era Soviet Russia analogy breaks down... and in Soviet Russia, analogy breaks you!).
I really, really don't want to think about the loss anymore, but as bad as he played, I think it's ridiculous to say that Eli Manning is the main reason the Giants lost. And I think Steve Politi of the Star-Ledger and Keith "Ladies Man" Idec of the Bergen Record both know that and don't care, or have myopic understandings of the game. Either way, it's pretty inexcusable to downplay the culpability of the Giants' porous defense and the team's outschemed coaching staff in order to get in one's licks on a high-profile, second-year quarterback in a near-impossible situation. Put it this way - if the Giants had Jake Delhomme at quarterback for the entire game and the Panthers had Eli, would New York have won?
Fuck no.
No matter. The Giants stunk just fine without Delhomme under center, and the Panthers played so well they probably would have won even if Big Blue played to its maximum potential. All we can hope is that this latest playoff disaster doesn't set the franchise back two years or so (like the last one did). I guess we'll see in eight months.
In the meantime, I'm sure the resurgent Rangers and the potentially special Mets will come to the precipice of greatness before shitting the bed in the most painful fashion imaginable. I figure it's only a few more decades before the New York sports karma for my particular teams reverses itself; all I have to do is hang on, and hope the sun doesn't explode just before one of my teams finally seals a championship (though thanks to the limitations of the speed of light, it will be 8.3 minutes before we know what has happened - and perhaps the championship can be sealed as we all wait for the shockwave to rip the flesh from our bones!).
Yes, I was at the Giants game yesterday. Yes, they lost. Badly. Yes, I was there with Kris, Spector and Lady Spector... and sort of there with Man-Chris and Friend of Man-Chris, who were seated at the other side of Giants Stadium.
No, I don't have any pictures from the game, despite the fact that Kris brought her digital camera. There were no pictures taken, and even if there were, I wouldn't post them. I would transfer them to a hard drive, then take a cartoonishly large magnet and Degauss the hell out of it. Like Leon Trotsky, the Giants' loss would thus be erased from the history books, then assassinated in Mexico decades later (which is kind of where the Stalin-era Soviet Russia analogy breaks down... and in Soviet Russia, analogy breaks you!).
I really, really don't want to think about the loss anymore, but as bad as he played, I think it's ridiculous to say that Eli Manning is the main reason the Giants lost. And I think Steve Politi of the Star-Ledger and Keith "Ladies Man" Idec of the Bergen Record both know that and don't care, or have myopic understandings of the game. Either way, it's pretty inexcusable to downplay the culpability of the Giants' porous defense and the team's outschemed coaching staff in order to get in one's licks on a high-profile, second-year quarterback in a near-impossible situation. Put it this way - if the Giants had Jake Delhomme at quarterback for the entire game and the Panthers had Eli, would New York have won?
Fuck no.
No matter. The Giants stunk just fine without Delhomme under center, and the Panthers played so well they probably would have won even if Big Blue played to its maximum potential. All we can hope is that this latest playoff disaster doesn't set the franchise back two years or so (like the last one did). I guess we'll see in eight months.
In the meantime, I'm sure the resurgent Rangers and the potentially special Mets will come to the precipice of greatness before shitting the bed in the most painful fashion imaginable. I figure it's only a few more decades before the New York sports karma for my particular teams reverses itself; all I have to do is hang on, and hope the sun doesn't explode just before one of my teams finally seals a championship (though thanks to the limitations of the speed of light, it will be 8.3 minutes before we know what has happened - and perhaps the championship can be sealed as we all wait for the shockwave to rip the flesh from our bones!).
Saturday, January 07, 2006
more from "duh" magazine
Bob Klapisch says Pedro's supposed toe injury is a way for him to bow out of the World Baseball Classic with honor.
Friday, January 06, 2006
your new drug
Have fun, bitches.
My fastest time at home was 30 seconds and change; I plateaued at around 21.5 seconds at work, where I think it runs a little bit faster on a better computer.
My fastest time at home was 30 seconds and change; I plateaued at around 21.5 seconds at work, where I think it runs a little bit faster on a better computer.
scene from a dry-cleanery
Me: Uh, the suit has some stains on it.
Dry Cleaning Lady: What are the stains?
Me: ... That would be vomit.
Dry Cleaning Lady: [Business-like silence]
end scene
Dry Cleaning Lady: What are the stains?
Me: ... That would be vomit.
Dry Cleaning Lady: [Business-like silence]
end scene
culture wars! tonight, 9/8c, only on nbc
As Terry points out, the religious right is apparently making The Book of Daniel into the newest cultural battleground.
For those of you who don't watch promos during the credits for My Name is Earl, The Book of Daniel is a new dramedy (yes, I just typed the word "dramedy") about an Episcopal priest (Aidan Quinn) who rides around town with Jesus in his passenger seat (no word yet as to whether Quinn wears a "Jesus is my Co-Pilot" trucker hat; personally I'm hoping for a "Damn Seagulls" or "FBI: Female Body Inspector" hat). He's got a messed-up family and a wacky cast of supporting characters, making it look an awful lot like it's network TV's long-overdue attempt at ripping off Six Feet Under (the main difference being there's only one dead guy on the whole show, and it's Jesus).
The Book of Daniel premieres tonight on NBC, which tells you all you need to know w/r/t how they feel about its prospects. Friday nights on NBC have been Godless even since they buried the original Star Trek in 1969; sensing this, the religious right has revved up its well-oiled outrage machine to a steady purr. Conservative Christian groups have already pressured two NBC affiliates to pull the show.
First of all, I disagree with Terry; the religious right is not stupid. He's correct in saying that their outrage has generated more buzz around the show than the mighty My Name is Earl ever could. My suspicion is that when these groups tilt at windmills like this, it spreads righteous indignation like a disease - and the only cure for the infected is to break out the checkbooks.
Second, I've noticed that a popular tactic in parrying the thrusts of the right is to be passive-aggressive and say something like "protest it because it sucks, not because of the whole 'Jesus' thing." The left does this a lot in all arenas of debate, and it bugs me for some reason. We haven't even seen the show yet, and even though it looks unfunny and uninspired, it might be good. True, the writers really seem to have been lazy in assigning each character his or her flaw ("hmmmm... How about, the priest is addicted to pain killers!" "Ooh, I like that... and his daughter, she doesn't just use drugs, she sells them too!" "Brilliant!"). But I think the concept of having Jesus as a recurring character on a show is pretty cool, and if executed well could be both entertaining and thought-provoking. Who knows - a recurring Jesus character on a TV show might even get some people interested in religion. Whether The Book of Daniel drops the ball on this or not, the left, in meekly trying to outflank shrill conservatives, risks one day giving up on something that's actually worth defending.
Lastly, it's not my place to decide what other people should or shouldn't get offended by. But really, comparing The Book of Daniel being on TV (before it's actually on TV) with the plight of blacks under Jim Crow is too ridiculous for words (I'm looking at you, Rob Kirkham), even if one accepts the debatable premise that Christians are somehow discriminated against in this country.
For those of you who don't watch promos during the credits for My Name is Earl, The Book of Daniel is a new dramedy (yes, I just typed the word "dramedy") about an Episcopal priest (Aidan Quinn) who rides around town with Jesus in his passenger seat (no word yet as to whether Quinn wears a "Jesus is my Co-Pilot" trucker hat; personally I'm hoping for a "Damn Seagulls" or "FBI: Female Body Inspector" hat). He's got a messed-up family and a wacky cast of supporting characters, making it look an awful lot like it's network TV's long-overdue attempt at ripping off Six Feet Under (the main difference being there's only one dead guy on the whole show, and it's Jesus).
The Book of Daniel premieres tonight on NBC, which tells you all you need to know w/r/t how they feel about its prospects. Friday nights on NBC have been Godless even since they buried the original Star Trek in 1969; sensing this, the religious right has revved up its well-oiled outrage machine to a steady purr. Conservative Christian groups have already pressured two NBC affiliates to pull the show.
First of all, I disagree with Terry; the religious right is not stupid. He's correct in saying that their outrage has generated more buzz around the show than the mighty My Name is Earl ever could. My suspicion is that when these groups tilt at windmills like this, it spreads righteous indignation like a disease - and the only cure for the infected is to break out the checkbooks.
Second, I've noticed that a popular tactic in parrying the thrusts of the right is to be passive-aggressive and say something like "protest it because it sucks, not because of the whole 'Jesus' thing." The left does this a lot in all arenas of debate, and it bugs me for some reason. We haven't even seen the show yet, and even though it looks unfunny and uninspired, it might be good. True, the writers really seem to have been lazy in assigning each character his or her flaw ("hmmmm... How about, the priest is addicted to pain killers!" "Ooh, I like that... and his daughter, she doesn't just use drugs, she sells them too!" "Brilliant!"). But I think the concept of having Jesus as a recurring character on a show is pretty cool, and if executed well could be both entertaining and thought-provoking. Who knows - a recurring Jesus character on a TV show might even get some people interested in religion. Whether The Book of Daniel drops the ball on this or not, the left, in meekly trying to outflank shrill conservatives, risks one day giving up on something that's actually worth defending.
Lastly, it's not my place to decide what other people should or shouldn't get offended by. But really, comparing The Book of Daniel being on TV (before it's actually on TV) with the plight of blacks under Jim Crow is too ridiculous for words (I'm looking at you, Rob Kirkham), even if one accepts the debatable premise that Christians are somehow discriminated against in this country.
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