Please Don’t Call it a Veepstakes

August 24th, 2008

So Obama’s chosen Joe Biden as his running mate.  It’s nice to see some actual election news every now and again.  I’ve gotten pretty goddamned tired of hearing the same “McCain spoke at Poughkeepsie while Obama was in Mobile” stories every day.  Anyway, I think Biden’s not a bad choice.  Longtime Senator, pretty affable, can run a campaign but still not ruffle too many feathers.  People know him, but not so well that most people hate him.  He’s a better choice than a lot of other rumored nominees, so I’m not complaining.  Who might be better?  Well, that’s what this blog post is about so just keep reading, pilgrim.

You might be wondering why I would go through the list of potential Obama nominees days after one was chosen.  That’s because I find speculative politics a waste of time.  It envelops too much of the attention of cable news types — turn on CNN, Fox News, or MSNBC, and I’d say there’s a 70% chance people are talking about the future.  They don’t care about what’s happening in the world, but what might happen during this tedious campaign.  It’s awful.  However, I do like thinking about politics strategically, so I’ll be a Monday Morning Quarterback every now and then to talk about how I might have done things.  Anyway, let’s get to the nominees who were not chosen, and why.
———
HILLARY CLINTON

Bio: former lawyer, current Senator (NY) … most people forget that she was once the First Lady of the United States, which is a mostly ceremonial position.

Strengths: has rabid supporters … politically vicious enough to hurl back any Rovesque tactics.

Weaknesses: has rabid detractors … politically vicious enough for everyone on Earth to know that she’s politically vicious.

Fun Fact: while campaigning for President, Clinton wore a rotation of only her three luckiest pantsuits.

Reasons not chosen: was kind of a dick to Obama for about six months, so there’s that …  I think enough people on both sides of the aisle hate her enough to make her nomination harm Obama more than her savvy would help … she’s so well-known, she might have overshadowed Obama in the eyes of a lot of voters.
———
EVAN BAYH

Bio: former lawyer, current Senator (IN) … was also Indiana’s secretary of state and governor.

Strengths: looks younger than he is (he’s 53) … history of fiscal responsibility … obscure enough to be a clean slate for most Americans.

Weaknesses: most notable foreign policy decision was co-sponsoring the Iraq war resolution … the silent H in his name would make campaign signs look and sound odd (Obama-Bayh; Obama-bye!).

Fun Fact: He is officially Birch Evans Bayh III (his dad was an Indiana Senator, too, y’know), and his son is the fourth person with that name, but the younger goes by Beau.  Yep, his name is Birch “Beau” Bayh.  I just wanted to type that.

Reason not chosen: considering the recent Russia-Georgia conflict, it’s understandable that Obama would choose a Senator with a dense foreign-policy section on his resume; Biden’s got one, Bayh doesn’t.
———
BILL RICHARDSON

Bio: former Congressman, U.N. ambassador, Secretary of Energy, and undrafted collegiate pitcher … current governor of the mediocre state of New Mexico.

Strengths: incredibly varied political experience … well-spoken with an agreeable personality … could bring a lot of non-traditional Democratic votes with his moderate views, including a pro-gun stance … oh, and he’s Hispanic, so that could help bring out some votes.

Weaknesses: worked in Clinton administration, so associations might have mattered … insulted powerful Illicit Entertainment lobby by banning cockfighting in New Mexico.

Fun Fact: besides getting a bit doughier, has looked exactly the same since 1987.

Reasons not chosen: perhaps two minorities at once isn’t the best way to entice the NASCAR dads … maybe his moderate positions were too enigmatic for a major Democratic candidate.
———
JIM WEBB

Bio: author, filmmaker, Naval Academy graduate, former Secretary of the Navy, current Senator (VA), all-around impressive dude.

Strengths: gifted orator on par with Obama himself … politically pragmatic … has extensive military record, while still opposed to Iraq war.

Weakness: has no desire to be Vice President.

Fun Fact: While Webb has written six novels, two non-fiction books, and a major motion picture, he has zero blogpodges under his belt.

Reason not chosen: I think most people wanted Jim Webb, but Jim Webb didn’t want Jim Webb.  Oh well.
———
WESLEY CLARK

Bio: former Supreme Allied Commander of NATO forces in Kosovo … ran for president in 2004.

Strength: distinguished military career.

Weaknesses: has held no political office … in 2004, ran a campaign that managed to lose to John Kerry … endorsed Hillary Clinton’s campaign … has a knack for saying things that are easily misconstrued.

Fun Fact: Before the arrival of Yugoslav officials for one of many peace talks in the Balkans, Clark made a point of farting in Slobodan Milosevic’s chair.

Reasons not chosen: those weaknesses up there aren’t enough?
———
KATHLEEN SEBELIUS

Bio: governor of Kansas … delivered Democratic response to President Bush’s 2008 State of the Union.

Strengths: a female politician who isn’t hated by large chunks of America … surprisingly built popularity as a liberal governor in a conservative state.

Weaknesses: probably sits a bit too far to the left … not a lot of national experience.

Fun Fact: Among those in the know, Sebelius is referred to as Bizarro Christie Whitman.

Reasons not chosen: Again, Biden wins on the foreign policy front, and that probably would have been McCain’s only card to play during the campaign (after all, “experience” beats pragmatism every time).  Also, delivering Kansas’s six electoral votes might be big for a Dem, but not that big.
———
JOHN EDWARDS

Bio: boy-faced former lawyer and Senator from North Carolina … John Kerry’s running mate in 2004.

Strengths: he’s run presidential campaigns before … most people find him handsome.

Weaknesses: policy borders on socialism … known for divisive remarks about class differences in America … only successful campaign was in 1998 … had affair with campaign worker, possibly resulting in pregnancy … publicly stated that he would not accept Vice Presidency … has elitist image, highlighted by infamous “$300 haircut” meme … aforementioned extra-marital affair occurred while wife underwent cancer treatment.

Fun Fact: John Edwards isn’t the guy who can talk to the dead.  Funnily enough, neither is John Edward.

Reason not chosen: Obama wants to win this election.
———
TIM KAINE

Bio: former lawyer, governor of Virginia.

Strengths: more outwardly religious than most Democrats … fluent in Spanish … good, comfortable speaker.

Weakness: no national political experience … has been governor since only 2005.

Fun Fact: In some pictures, Governor Kaine has the strangest hairline I’ve seen in awhile.

Reason not chosen: Kaine would have been a fine choice, but I think Obama preferred the more seasoned, safer option.
———
Whew, that’s a lot of unchosen folks.  Apparently Obama’s “short” list had another twelve names on it, but I’m not touching them.  I can only bloviate for so long.  Maybe that’s why I don’t have a daily program on CNBC.

-Darrell

XXIX Olympic Blogpodge

August 14th, 2008

Sorry it’s been awhile; I just haven’t been awash with ideas.  I have, however, been awash with Olympic Fever (a mild strain of it, at least).  Like most Olympics viewers, I’ve seen a bunch of competitions that I normally don’t.  For those unfamiliar with some of these sports, I have included a handy guide.

FENCING: Regardless of the style of the weapon, the setup is the same — a fencer must be the first to touch his/her opponent with the sword.  Since we’re dealing with really quick fencers, touches happen after about a second and a half.  You can tell that a touch occurred by the lights that go off in response to the wireless device in each fencer’s sword.  Alternatively, if you’re watching women’s fencing, a touch is apparent whenever both fencers simultaneously yelp in victory.  Here’s what it’s like to watch women’s fencing: [beep], [lunge], “Hyaah!”, wait for video confirmation, repeat fifty times.  You see, touches happen right on top of one another, so the judge has to consult the video pretty much every time.  This makes me wonder how fencing was scored before instant replay was available.  Did the judge just flip a coin?  I doubt it — I’m thinking that back then, every judge was paid off by the Soviets, so it didn’t matter anyway.

WOMEN’S GYMNASTICS: More like infants’ gymnastics…!  [High-five!]  Yeah, so the Chinese are cheaters.  Like Adam said to me yesterday, they’re the opposite of Dominican pitchers.  Orlando Hernandez could be fifty for all we know, but he still insists that he’s 39 (maybe he thinks he’s Jack Benny).  Meanwhile, a Chinese gymnast’s first words are always, “I’m this many– I mean, fifteen!”

One more thing about women’s gymnastics.  During the team competition, whenever a gymnast was waiting for a score, she would repeatedly yell, “Come on, Shawn!” to cheer on Shawn Johnson.  It led me to believe that American gymnasts know only those three words.

EQUESTRIAN DRESSAGE: Sucks.  This isn’t the equestrian event with jumping and whatnot.  Oh, no — for a good five minutes, I watched horses walk, turn around slowly, and trot jauntily across a flat dirt lot.  It’s basically a dog show.  All that’s fine and good if you’re interested in breeding and training genetically perfect horses, but let me remind you of something: the people on top of those slowly trotting horses are Olympic athletes.  In 2012, baseball and softball will be gone, but there will still be slow trotters earning gold medals.

ROWING: Watching rowing is frustrating.  The course (track?) is so large and the boats go so fast, no camera can accurately keep up.  They have a few cameras stationed along the water, but they cover such a wide range, it’s impossible to tell who’s winning until the boats are exactly in front.  NBC tried to compensate for that by having a helicopter shot, but it doesn’t really help.  I’m guessing that the only people enjoying the show are the dozens of people on bikes who ride alongside the rowers.

BADMINTON: Way cooler than I expected.  I think I like it even more than table tennis for short-term enjoyment.  My only complaint is that the announcers made a big deal about how the arena in Beijing is perfect for badminton because it had such slow air flow that the AC couldn’t fuck with the flight of the shuttlecock.  I’m all for good sporting conditions, but really — shouldn’t an Olympic badminton player be able to take something like a slight draft into account?  Isn’t badminton traditionally played outside anyway?

FIELD HOCKEY: This will come as no surprise, but it’s basically right between ice hockey and soccer, in both gameplay and level of interest.  It’s pretty interesting for awhile.  One odd thing: you can’t score a goal unless an attacking player touches the ball inside the scoring arc.  To me, that’s like outlawing full-court shots in basketball.  If you can make a goal from that far away, why shouldn’t you be rewarded?  Besides, if a goalie can’t handle a shot from across the pitch, fire her ass.

CANOEING: Just like skiing, but with boats!

SOCCER: Going in, I knew that I found soccer only mildly interesting (sometimes), and that the U.S. team is never very good.  Somehow, I had forgotten that when I decided to watch our guys lose to Nigeria.  At least I fell asleep before it was over.

VOLLEYBALL: Is it weird that I prefer regular gym-floor volleyball to beach volleyball?  Yeah, okay, women in tiny pants… but they’re six-foot sticks, which isn’t exactly my preferred body type.  Nothing against the quite impressive May/Walsh duo, but I’d rather get behind a large team of nameless Americans.  It’s just more fun to watch them celebrate.

SOFTBALL: First of all, the bases are too close together, and the mound — er, flat pitcher’s circle — is too close to the plate.  I understand that our team is dominant, but it shouldn’t be so dominant that two consecutive no-hitters isn’t a huge fucking deal.  When Bob Gibson threw a 1.12 ERA in 1968, they lowered the mound five inches in 1969.  Why hasn’t softball adapted?

BOXING: At any given time over these two weeks, there is an eighty percent chance that Universal HD is airing some random boxing match.  They must have aired every bout in every weight class so far.  I kind of like boxing, so I’ve watched a few.  I like that the scoring is exclusively about the number of punches landed, but the execution of that scoring confuses me.  It seems that only straight jabs to the face are ever awarded points.  Hard glancing blows and body punches have no value in this system.  It seems like less of a boxing tournament and more of a head-punching competition, if that makes sense.

SYNCHRONIZED DIVING: Every dive I’ve seen has made me say, “Yeah, that’s pretty good.”  Then NBC busts out the slow-mo and high-def freeze frames, and I see, well, the commentator is right — the guy on the left did hit the water a fraction of a second before his partner.  He must be the shame of his country right now.

I think that covers all the sports I’ve seen.  I’m kind of upset that I haven’t seen any judo or Greco-Roman wrestling.  Come on, NBC, step it up!

-Darrell

Feeling YouTubey

August 2nd, 2008

In this day and age, it pays to be a cultural vacuum.  So here is a bunch of clips that I find amusing.  View them at your leisure.

Some of you know about this already, but those who don’t are seriously missing out.  Watch the first episode of British short-film series “Look Around You” and delight in its absurdity.  It’s probably the smartest thing I’ve ever seen that contained so many outright lies.  It’s a brilliant send-up of educational programming.  I’ll let you find the clips of later episodes — that “related videos” section is pretty reliable most of the time.

I’ve long thought that the world was missing a humorous musical about a mopey supervillain and his hero arch-nemesis who, as it happens, is kind of a dick.  Well, Joss Whedon picked up the slack on that one.  If you want to see Neil Patrick Harris sing in a laundromat, then this is the 42-minute film for you.

Michael Jordan is still better at basketball than you.  That shouldn’t be a surprise, but it’s good to be reminded every now and then.

This is audio-only, but still an essential listen.  Robert Krulwich, of Radio Lab and NPR News fame, delivered the commencement address at Caltech this year.  It is a lovely call to our scholars to make science more romantic and interesting to the general public.  Just listen, and consider it another bit of ammunition in the defense of logic.

That small collection of links should be enough to kill some time.  You’re welcome.

-Darrell

No

July 28th, 2008

PICK-UP LINE

CHARACTERS
MATT: A dude.  Friend of Fran.
FRAN: Not a dude.  Friend of Matt.

INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

MATT: So I came up with a new pick-up line.  I want to see if it works.

FRAN: Oh, God.

MATT: Hey, hear me out.  Just pretend you don’t know me—

FRAN (interrupting): I’m pretty good at that already.

(MATT pauses, gives an annoyed look)

MATT: You’re in a bar, wearing something foxy.  I sidle up and say, “You know, you and I should have sex some time.”

FRAN (pauses, blinks): That’s it?  That’s a little transparent.

MATT: That’s the point!  Come on, play along.  Please?  You’re supposed to respond like you don’t know me, but you might be interested.

FRAN: All right, all right, fine.  Go ahead.

(FRAN turns her back, starts smoking an imaginary cigarette; MATT sidles up to FRAN)

MATT: Hello there.  (Fran looks up, nods)  You know, you and I should—

FRAN (firmly): No.

————

ART SCHOOL

International Art Instruction
542 W. 17th Street
Lincoln, NE 68501

July 24, 2008

Mr. Brandon Reynolds
1300 Ramshackle Avenue
Apt. D
Torrance, CA 90507

Dear Mr. Reynolds:

Thank you for your interest in International Art Instruction.  We have received your application and, regrettably, we do not feel that you are IAI material.

Truthfully, Mr. Reynolds, yours is the first completed application that we have rejected in over thirty years.  As your drawing sample suggests, we are a profit-making institution and thus are happy to offer instruction to any interested party.  Nevertheless, your sample was so upsetting to our president that we must refuse your offer to enroll.

On the slim chance that you are not merely playing games with us, please let me expound.  The only drawing sample that we requested was of a bear wearing a hat.  While we appreciate additional samples in order to learn more about our students, we do not appreciate the depiction of our television spokesman molesting a child while he steals an elderly woman’s purse.  Say what you will about provocative art, but such an insult will not stand at IAI.

Perhaps more importantly, we do not accept pesos for the application fee, particularly not ones that smell of excrement.

Please feel free to recommend IAI to any of your friends or family, but it would be best if this letter marks the last time we communicate.  I hope you understand.

Sincerely,

Jeffrey McDonald
Head of Accounts and Admissions,
International Art Instruction

————

GIFT

“I got you something.”  These were not welcome words for Trish.  In her experience, a gift meant that the giver expected something more valuable in return.

“Did you?” she replied flatly.  She hoped that she could stay the inevitable by keeping her words unemotional, uninterested.  It has never worked.

Grant opened the back door and reached into his car.  He emerged holding a white kitten with brown speckles.  It couldn’t have been more than five months old.  “I saw her at the shelter, and I thought of you,” his voice shook.  He advanced to hand her the kitten, but she stepped backward.  He looked at her, confused, and Trish turned away.  She couldn’t meet his gaze; no matter how many times this happens, it never gets easy.  She knew, though, that The Conversation had to take place.  He’s already making grand gestures; there’s no point pretending he’s not in love.  Rip off the bandage, she told herself.  It has to be done.

“What’s this for?” Trish remained stoic, lest she sound like she pities him.  Pity is dangerous because it resembles empathy, which resembles concern, which resembles affection.  Better she sound cold and distant than leave any ambiguity.

“I– don’t understand.  I thought you’d love him.  Isn’t he cute?”

Trish took a deep breath, steeling herself for the cruelty she had to deliver, then lifted her face.  “Yes, he’s adorable.  But I can’t accept him.”

“I see.  Well–”

Trish interrupted, “First of all, my apartment complex doesn’t allow cats.  Also, I’m allergic.”

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

For Grant, this was a gross miscalculation.  How many nights had he lay awake thinking about her voice, her breasts, her skin?  All the jokes they shared at work, the Happy Hours at Chili’s, the smiles from across the office: they must have meant something to her.  He just knew that he needed only an ounce of courage to turn her from distant obsession to endless love.

“Listen, I can take him back.  No biggie,” Grant spat out the words, trying to salvage things.  “Does your apartment allow dogs?  Or fish?  I just wanted you to have a friend.”  Empty words from the lovesick fellow.

“No, Grant.  No gifts.”  He tried to respond, but her glare stopped him.  “I know what this is about.  I’m flattered, but please.  Let’s just keep being co-workers, okay?”

“You don’t understand, Trish.”

Trish began to tire of Grant’s barrage of sadness.  “Stop it; I understand just fine.”

“No, you don’t.”  No matter the situation, the self-destructive confession of love is unstoppable.  “I’m tired of just being co-workers, getting drinks on Friday and saying goodbye in the parking lot.  I know you like me, and I hope you’ll love me.  I just…”

“Stop it, Grant,” her face tightened.  You aren’t gonna cry.  He will not make you cry.  You’re just feeling guilty; if he sees you cry, he’ll misinterpret like all the others.  Deep breath.

“I couldn’t go another day without telling you.  You just had to know.”  Of course I did, Trish thought bitterly.

Confident that Grant had nothing left to pour from his heart, Trish gave the speech she’s given far too many times.  She spoke slowly and clearly, like a retired colonel disciplining a four-year-old.  “Listen.  Like I said, I’m flattered, and I don’t think any less of you for this.  But I’m not interested, and I don’t think I ever will be.”

“Okay, but–”

“Let me finish, goddammit.”  After another deep breath, Trish continued, still staring through him.  “If you can be an adult, I’ll be happy to go back to how things were.  We can still be buddies, and we can still have drinks.  But that’s all.  Okay?”

He had been defeated.  He could only nod and walk away.  Tonight, Grant will drink alone, still thinking of her voice, her breasts, her skin… her eyes, neck, and smile.  Accompanying the thoughts would be that familiar twinge of self-pity.  The twinge will soon fade, to be replaced by the equally familiar optimistic determination.  This is just a setback.  She just needs to spend more time with me… get to know me… then she’ll understand…

————

-Darrell

Monsoon Season Blogpodge

July 22nd, 2008

I think it’s about time for a blogpodge.  Yeah, it is.

So I saw Batman the other day.  Oh, sorry — I saw The Dark Knight the other day.  That might be the only movie I’ve seen that exceeded super-high expectations.  Before I saw it, I read some stuff about how it might be a generation-defining crime drama that transcends the superhero genre… and it might be.  I also heard plenty about how Heath Ledger’s performance as the Joker was incredible… and it was.  In fact, every time I think of it, I’m angry that he won’t be around to do any sequels.  Until now, I often cited Willem Defoe’s Green Goblin as my favorite super-villain performance.  Willem’s at a distant second now.

If you ever want to start a long conversation among geek friends, I have a great ice-breaker.  Ask what your company thinks are television’s best-written characters.  Regardless of whether alcohol is involved, names will pop up and debates will spark continuously for at least an hour.  It took me ten minutes of talking out loud and I still haven’t decided which Carnivale character should make the cut (I’m between Samson and Brother Justin… maybe both should be on the list).  Also, you’re not allowed to argue with me about Lost: Ben Linus is on the list and nobody else.  …yyyou can make a case for Sayid or John Locke, but that’s as far as I’ll go.

Here’s a strategy game for the true sadist: Pandemic II’s object is to wipe out all of humanity with an evolving disease.  I failed the first time: my virus left people alive in southern Africa, Madagascar, and Japan.  Every other region was completely wiped out, but I was still a little sad when my last victim in Russia died.  The score they gave me was somewhere in the 71 thousands.  My biggest complaint about the game is that I think regions protect themselves too well.  If Greenland has its shipyard and airport closed, ain’t nobody’s getting infected there.  I just wish there were a button for “rogue infected boatsman” or “apocalyptic bio-terrorist”.

Since we changed our cable package, I’ve watched a fair amount of G4.  That’s not a bad cable network, all told.  Its original programming is pretty good, and they have a knack for hiring ridiculously gorgeous women.  Also, the banter on Attack of the Show! isn’t so bad — even when the jokes don’t quite work, it’s all so amiable and fun that it’s still entertaining.  Chris Hardwick is on a lot, and he is surprisingly awesome (surprising considering his first high-profile gig: as Jenny McCarthy’s cohost on MTV’s Singled Out).  He’s also one half of outrageously clever nerd-comedy duo Hard ‘N Phirm.  Check out some of their songs.

Another cool thing about G4 — Ninja Warrior.  Japanese people (with the occasional gymnast from America or Belgium) attempt to get through the most physically demanding obstacle course I’ve ever seen.  It works better than MXC because there’s no ironic detachment, and it’s better than American Gladiators because the course is so taxing, viewers have no choice but to root for every contender.  It’s also kinda nice to see a pure man-versus-obstacle competition in which nobody hopes for another’s failure.  It’s manly physical prowess and warm, fuzzy, “go everybody!” sentiments.

Are there foods on this planet more delicious than barbecued pork ribs?  Yes, one: sushi.  That is all.

A few more well-written characters for ya: Dale Cooper, Eric Cartman, Shirley Schmidt, Dr. Gregory House, Hank Hill, Malcolm Reynolds, Michael Scott (I’d say he’s even better than David Brent… but that’s a whole other post).

Tonight’s great shut-out against the Cubs better be a sign of good things to come.  Still in first place, but still under .500.  Ugh.  My favorite thing: I noticed that if the third-place Brewers were in the West instead of the Central, they’d have a seven-game lead over the D’backs.  I guess last year was an aberration — we really are the NL Worst.

I’m still waiting for more than just G-bomb to contribute to my albums post.  If you missed it, here it is.  I want more contributions from you music lovers!

Speaking of the albums post, I gave Adore another chance, per G’s request.  Verdict: I still hate it.  Sorry.  It seems that without a human drummer, Billy Corgan can write only sleepy songs.

Eh, that’s enough for now.  I’ll talk to you all later.

-Darrell

Oh, The Folly of Man!

July 13th, 2008

Jason sat at his cubicle, eyes dead from the years of pointless torment that office life gave him.  He looked up from his company’s email about its declining stock to nod to one of his many apparent superiors.  This was Sandy, the leader of a team that had nothing to do with anything he did, but he still got the feeling that he should somehow act subservient.

“Morning, Sandy, how are–”

Suddenly, the building shook.  Wordless confusion filled the last thoughts Jason ever had as his workplace, the great Sears Tower, toppled downward, crushing all inside.  From street level, it resembled a building implosion, as if an impossibly talented and secretive demolitions team pulled off history’s most outrageous terrorist attack.  Due to the chaos, this was the first popular explanation.

Meanwhile, in Malaysia, Rahmat vacuumed the fifty-eighth floor of Petronas Tower #2.  Like his janitorial comrades, he would not come home after this night shift.  As it was the middle of the night, there were not as many witnesses to the actual event.  Locals likened it not to an implosion, but to divine vengeance.  The Malay were closer than they realized.

This is News Channel Nine with more breaking news on the great disaster at the Sears Tower.  Police say that rescue teams are at the location, but are having difficulty finding victims.  I am told we have video of the Chicago police chief addressing the media.  Let’s take you there.

Police Chief Stan Grasso approached the podium in the same manner he always did whenever a high-profile case came along: reluctantly and with his perpetual “tired, yet serious” face.  Even with his city’s shining symbol turned to rubble, he knows no other way to communicate with the press.  “We are still gathering information about what happened, but we know that the Sears Tower is gone and that the casualty level is catastrophic.  We have city, county, state, and federal officials working tirelessly to aid any survivors they find.”

A breathless reporter interrupted his speech.  “Chief, what do you say to reports that the building is missing?”

“I’m sorry?  The building is gone, yes.  We are still not sure of the cause, whether terrorist or otherwise–”

“No, chief, a source is telling me that there’s almost no rubble at the site.  Is this true, and if so, how can this be explained?”

Grasso was not prepared for the media to know so much so soon.  “We have heard similar things, but I wouldn’t give it much credence.  As a city, we are still in shock.  At this time, we should focus on aid and rescue.”  With that, the Chief turned on his heels and walked back to headquarters.

Even more breaking news — it appears that another building has fallen in Malaysia.  The famous Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur have imploded in a fashion similar to the Sears Tower, reports say.  It is looking more and more like a worldwide terrorist attack.  Joining the studio to speculate wildly about this tremendous disaster is political analyst Rich Butt.  Rich?

Word spread quickly that two of humanity’s tallest buildings fell at almost exactly the same time.  Millions fled their workplaces in case the terrorists had chosen their skyscrapers to target next.  Commercial flights worldwide were grounded.  All the while, not a single terrorist group took credit for the attacks.

———

It was a placid, gorgeous day at Yellowstone, just as Toshi wanted for his family’s vacation to America.  From the little English he knew, Toshi was able to glean that Old Faithful would erupt again in another ten minutes.  His wife and children waited just as excitedly; they weren’t going to miss this for anything.

A light shone from the distant tree line.  It moved steadily, bouncing a bit across the landscape.  Visitors and park rangers alike expressed curiosity about what this light could be.  “Is that a bear?” one girl was heard to ask.  Sure enough, the bright yellow light emanated from an average-sized grizzly bear as it ambled toward the crowd.

“Everybody play dead!” a man in a pink hat jokingly yelled.  Another got in on it, saying, “No, man, we gotta try to make ourselves look really big.”

“SILENCE!” the bear intoned, right paw raised.  “I shall not harm you.  Fetch your media outlets, please.”  The bear sat on the ground with a thud, scratched his ear, and waited.

Another breaking news story…  Normally, we would not leave a story as large and horrific as those occurring in Chicago and Malaysia, but this is an unprecedented day.  We have a live video feed of what appears to be a talking grizzly bear bathed in golden light.  I am told that this is not a hoax and that the grizzly has called the media to the Old Faithful Geyser in order to address humanity.

The great beast approached the podium surely, as if this were not his first press conference.  His bearlike countenance belied a knowing, almost human peacefulness.  Later, some witnesses would swear that he smiled softly throughout the speech.  “Ho, humans!  My name is Brownie and I have a message from Mother Earth.  Please take heed.”  With those words, every person near a television watched the bear address humanity.

“Mother Earth says that the humans on this planet need to be disciplined.  You are getting too big for your britches and too proud of yourselves.  The propagation of tall buildings saddens her, for it imbalances her gravity and makes her feel less compact than she once was.  She fondly remembers ancient civilizations that beautified Earth without building excessively upward.  These civilizations stayed close to the ground because of their love for the land, not because reinforced steel had not been invented.”

The bear concluded his speech, “Mother Earth says that today’s incident was a warning for the rest of you.  Starting tomorrow, she shall swallow all buildings that stand over 1,000 feet tall.  She sent me to tell you so as to minimize the death count.  She wants you all to know that while you have lost your way, she still loves you.  I will now take questions.  Yes, the Japanese man in front.”

Toshi nervously spoke to the bear, completely in Japanese.  The bear responded, “No, my friend, I am not speaking Japanese, nor am I speaking English.  I speak Universal Language so that all may understand me without the aid of translators.  It is a language that is still spoken by most of the animal kingdom, but is long dormant among humans.  Your selfishness and greed have torn you apart physically and linguistically.”  At these words, a feeling of shame overcame the crowd at Yellowstone and, indeed, all of humanity.  ‘Twas humbling to be taken to task by Nature’s bear messenger.  “Next question: yes, you.”

“Um, Mr. Bear, sir… um… why would Mother Earth destroy our greatest accomplishments?  Our skyscrapers are beautiful beacons of…”

“Please stop, young man.  In the eyes of our Mother, a tall building is not a great accomplishment.  One must subsist on the land, yes, but also replenish it.  To erect monuments to oneself is far from replenishing.  Your material loss will be great, but it was man’s folly to put such stock in material things.”

———

True to the golden grizzly’s word, all of man’s skyscrapers fell into great chasms, one by one.  Most watched from a safe distance as the world’s most beautiful architecture was devoured.  Some seethed, some sobbed, some sat in smug appreciation of Earth’s ability to slap our collective wrist.  All learned a lesson about the human definition of greatness.

So begins a new chapter of humanity: one without gravity-defying office buildings and vertigo-inducing resort-hotel-casinos.  This shall be a chapter of collective humility.  There shall be less one-upmanship and more brotherhood.  We shall stop looking toward the cosmos and start looking within our hearts.  A new day has dawned.

-Darrell

Geeky List

July 9th, 2008

I came across another interesting post on the AV Club blog, and it has inspired me to write.  Naturally, it’s about music.  Specifically, one must name the best (or one’s favorite) album from each year of one’s life.  This has proven to be a more daunting task than I anticipated.  Some years are so rich with great music that it feels like I’m slighting some of my favorite music.  At the same time, some years had such a dearth of greatness that some lesser albums are sneaking onto the list (how is it that nothing I love came out in 1992 when ‘91 and ‘93 had so many great albums?).  For those reasons, I think it was an interesting exercise to compile my list.

For Steve Hyden (the writer of said AV Club article), his toughest years were 1987, 1994, 1997, and 2002.  I would agree, but also add every year since 2003.  That’s probably because that’s when my indie-rock kick started to blossom, so I had a larger sample to work with.  Anyway, here’s my list.

1984: Metallica - Ride the Lightning
1985: Dire Straits - Brothers in Arms
1986: Paul Simon - Graceland
1987: Guns ‘N Roses - Appetite for Destruction
1988: Traveling Wilburys - Traveling Wilburys, Vol. I
1989: Pixies - Doolittle
1990: Black Crowes: Shake Your Moneymaker
1991: Warren Zevon - Mr. Bad Example
1992: Flaming Lips - Hit to Death in the Future Head
1993: Nirvana - In Utero
1994: Green Day - Dookie
1995: Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
1996: Metallica - Load
1997: Radiohead - OK Computer
1998: Eels - Electro-Shock Blues
1999: Ben Folds Five - The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner
2000: Radiohead - Kid A
2001: Spiritualized - Let it Come Down
2002: Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
2003: Radiohead - Hail to the Thief
2004: Brian Wilson - Smile
2005: Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene
2006: Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood
2007: Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
2008 (so far): Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer

What does everybody think of my list?  Yeah, there are a lot of repeats, but I promised that I’d be honest with myself.  If you have the time and gumption, please post your list in the comments.

-Darrell

Inimitably Cool

July 1st, 2008

The other day, I watched The Gold Rush for the first time.  (It was great.)  In one of the special features, the narrator mentioned that during the scene where another character pictures Charlie Chaplin as a chicken, they could put only Chaplin himself in the chicken suit, as no one else on set could believably imitate his movements.  I thought, “Now that’s cool.”  It occurred to me that this should be the measuring stick for coolness: how difficult it is to be imitated, no matter how many might try.  With that in mind, allow me to submit my partial list of folks who are inimitably cool.

#1: Gene Kelly

He’s at the top of this list for a reason: He’s the only man who has ever made me love watching a man dance.  For whatever reason, dance is an art form that pretty much eludes me.  But Gene Kelly could dance on stage, in the street, in the rain, doff his cap, and smile to the camera and I’d be riveted the whole time.  He’s a man whose smoothness and confidence is apparent in his every move, and his every move is as sure and balanced as has ever been seen.  Performers could learn a lot from Gene Kelly, but they’ll never be able to imitate him justly.

Evidence?  Okay, watch this, one of my favorite scenes from Singin’ in the Rain, a top-five comedy in my book.  Notice how Donald O’Connor keeps up with him in terms of timing (comic and rhythmic), but doesn’t quite match Kelly’s dancing.  Kelly is just more controlled, more aware of his body.  That’s not to say that Kelly steals the scene — he’s too much of a showman to make a fellow actor look bad.

#2: Elvis Presley

“Wait a minute,” you say, “is there anyone who hasn’t imitated Elvis?”  Well, no.  But no one’s been able to do it well.  A good impersonator might get the wardrobe, the hip-shake, the curled lip, and the silky voice, but he’ll never capture a tenth of his presence.  Years back, I happened upon an old Elvis concert on VH1.  It was pretty late in his career, so the pounds were accumulating.  This was a concert from over thirty years ago, watched on a small TV in the middle of the day.  I didn’t get the rush of seeing him live or being a part of an excited throng.  Even still, I’ve never seen a more dynamic performer in my life.  He owned that stage.  There are a thousand “Elvises” in Vegas, but only one King.

#3: Carl Sagan

What, only stage performers can be cool?  No one can fill me with as much wonder and appreciation for the world around me than Carl Sagan.  He amazes me with his strict logic combined with his romantic, almost boyish love for the pursuit of knowledge.  He presents complex thoughts calmly, understandably, and interestingly.  With minimal visual aids and zero special effects, he was the sole presenter on an hour-long show about science, and people kept watching.  The Science Channel likes to run episodes of Cosmos every so often, and I make sure to watch it whenever I find it.  That’s because Carl Sagan is one of few people who gives me immense joy just by speaking.

#4: Tiger Woods

He made golf cool.  That should be enough, but I can go on.  He dominates his sport in an unprecedented way — not in the level of domination, but in his popularity while he’s doing it.  Roger Federer is admired, but not universally loved.  Michael Jordan is legendary the world over, but that’s more in retrospect — I remember a lot of folks growing weary of his greatness right around his first comeback (that, and there are a lot of Hawks, Cavs, Lakers, Blazers, Suns, Sonics, and Jazz fans who aren’t totally in love with him for some reason).  But Tiger is feared, admired, and loved by pretty much every golf fan there is.  Even as I rooted for Rocco Mediate, I couldn’t root against Tiger.  He has unmatched tenacity, focus, and talent.  All that, and he’s a gentlemanly, reasonably well-spoken fellow.  Nobody can attempt to be as cool as Tiger.

Eh, four’s enough for now.  Whom would you put on there?

-Darrell

Rest in Peace

June 24th, 2008

I’m officially devastated.  One of my heroes has died.  George Carlin, I shall miss you.  No one could phrase a joke or an argument as well as you.  Yours is still the best comedy show I’ve ever had the privilege to see, and I doubt anyone else will ever top it.  Forgive me for quoting the USA Today, but this sentence pretty much sums up my love for him: “The blue-collar Irish Catholic evolved into an atheist whose religion was the power of speech.”  If you aren’t already a superfan, here are six links for you.

In that second link, he talks about death.  What’s funny is that I was thinking similar things over the last week.  I had in my notes something about what kind of bullshit it is to tell people that a lost loved one is “looking down on us and smiling”.  What separates the likes of me from the greatness of Carlin is our approach to it.  I was prepared to write an angry rant about it, make it a semi-serious essay about how we approach death.  I was going to say, “Fuck you; my dead loved one is dead.  He/she isn’t smiling.  If so, then my sadness would be selfish and horrible.  Let me be upset like a normal person and accept death for what it is.”  George Carlin, in contrast, turned it into something funny, bringing people of all thoughts and philosophies together to laugh about the expression.  That’s something I’d never be able to do.

I could go on and on about the genius of Carlin, but if you don’t know about it already, I encourage you to find it yourself.  Click the links above, read his books, and buy his CDs.  The more people who appreciate his brilliance, the better off the world shall be.  RIP.

-Darrell

Randolph ‘08: Attacking the Competition

June 19th, 2008

Hello Friends,

Mike Randolph here again with an update on my Presidential campaign!  Winnie and I have been burning the midnight oil at both ends over the last few months, and it’s only gonna get busier now that I have some actual competition from the Republicrats.  So to further help the millions of voters who regularly read this Blog Without a Name, allow me to tell you exactly what distinguishes me from Senators McCain and Obama and why these characteristics are why you should write “Mike Randolph” below the names of all other candidates.

First, let’s talk about both of them at once.  I’ve harped on it before, but the most important difference between them and me is that I’m beholden to no party.  I’ve no fixed set of ideals, no predictable voting pattern, no person or special interest to impress (besides my wife).  You won’t get that kind of independence from seasoned politicians.  Plus, keep in mind that my outsider independence makes me open to hear ideas from all sides of the proverbial aisle.  There will be no shutting-out or silencing of rivals in the legislative branch, and my cabinet will contain practical experts, not political ones.

Now it’s time to get specific.  Let’s start with the man who became his party’s presumptive nominee first, Arizona Senator John McCain.

McCAIN PROBLEM ONE: He’s a Republican.
  Just wanted to reiterate that.  Parties BAD, independence GOOD.

McCAIN PROBLEM TWO: He never did any honest work in his life.  Listen, I appreciate a military man as much as anyone (I was in the National Guard, after all), but it doesn’t automatically make him fit to govern.  Besides, he was groomed since birth to be a Navy man.  He was handed cushy position after cushy position, even getting to stay in a Hanoi Hilton Hotel during the course of the Vietnam War.  And after he got home?  He entered politics.  He was never a paperboy, never a night nurse or a mechanic like yours truly.  I’ve run a successful body shop through the many ups and downs of this economy that the Senator has helped create, and meanwhile he’s been living in his Senatorial mansions in sunny Arizona, sipping on cactus-flavored cocktails.  That’s not a leader to trust, no sir.

McCAIN PROBLEM THREE: He’s often rumored to be hot-headed.  That doesn’t sound like a guy who unabashedly loves puppies.  With this in mind, my newest campaign promise is as follows: I promise to never chew out a staffer, intern, or coffee boy.  I’m a nice guy who loves puppies, and nice guys who love puppies don’t yell when they’re upset.

McCAIN PROBLEM FOUR: He really loves this war.  His goal to get out of Iraq is to be “mostly” done by 2013.  Twenty-thirteen!  If we’d just do like we did for Japan and leave the rebuilding to Coca-Cola, then we’ll be seeing Iraqi Hello Kitty backpacks before the next Summer Olympics.  Once again, I love the military too, but at least Coke’s most feared weapon is pervasive marketing.

McCAIN PROBLEM FIVE: He’s a lousy author.  How do I know this, even though, like everybody, I have never bothered to read one of his books?  He has a co-author (read: ghostwriter!) for every single one of them.  This is a man the people of Arizona have entrusted to author legislation, and he can’t even write for himself about his own life.  Nuh-uh.

McCAIN PROBLEM SIX: He doesn’t go far enough fighting pork.  You’ll hear over and over how McCain has fought earmarks and pork-barrel spending, but for all his bragging, he hasn’t done nearly enough.  He thinks the problem is that bills have needless amendments and earmarks, but he ignores the fact that the bills exist at all.  If the Senate had just stopped passing bills, pork wouldn’t be a problem.  That’s why when I’m president, I promise that at least sixty percent of all bills that reach my desk will be vetoed.  Anything that isn’t 100% vital in my mind will get axed.  Special interests and political image be damned — useless laws will not be tolerated.

Okay, now let’s move on to the junior Senator from Illinois, Barack Obama.

OBAMA PROBLEM ONE: He’s a Democrat.  It doesn’t matter whether or not he’s a secret Muslim; he’s an overt Democrat and that disqualifies him right out of the gate.

OBAMA PROBLEM TWO: He likes the New Deal.  If you hate bureaucracy, you should hate the New Deal.  New-Deal philosophy is why I had to go through mountains of red tape just to get my grandmother buried in her old backyard, and they still denied my request.  All the New Deal did for us was to give Americans false hope that the government can fix everything.

OBAMA PROBLEM THREE: He claims to be athletic, but clearly isn’t.  He plays a lot of basketball, but have you seen him try to box somebody out for a rebound?  He acts like a fifty-year-old politician out there; it’s pathetic.  Plus, he plays with his t-shirt tucked in.  And he’s left-handed.  That’s no hoopster.  And then, he has the audacity to show off his bowling skills, but he bowled a 37!  Somebody get him some bumpers!  In contrast, I am a long-time league bowler with a 180 average.  The alley Nixon installed in the White House will come to great use.  I hope Brown and Sarkozy won’t mind getting their asses waxed on the lanes.

OBAMA PROBLEM FOUR: He opposes weaponizing space.  Come on, Barack, don’t you know?  Space is the only place we should be weaponizing!  Invaders can’t run in to steal our bombs if we have them floating above us.  Plus, what if the unthinkable happens and space aliens try to take over our planet?  Boy, would the egg be on your face.

OBAMA PROBLEM FIVE: The media can’t decide whether they love or hate him.  One day he’s the finest orator of our age, the next he’s in bed with a racist preacher.  One day correspondents line up to fellate him, the next they say he’s a condescending elitist.  I’ve dated girls where I had similar feelings — hot and cold, hot and cold.  In the long run, let me tell you, it was not worth it.  Breaking up with that sort of woman is the smart thing to do.  When the media has the same feelings for a major candidate, it’s about time to say, “Barack, we need to talk.”  It’ll be the best for all of us.

OBAMA PROBLEM SIX: His plan to withdraw from Iraq is dumb.  I know what you’re thinking: at least he plans on doing it sooner than 2013, right?  That’s like saying AIDS is better than the Ebola virus.  However true it may be, they both stink.  Obama wants a “phased” withdrawal so that we can “aid” with “rebuilding” and all that.  I’m telling you: just leave now and send in the sugar-water brigade.  Coke will cure the Middle East crisis.

So there you have it.  Six major problems with both major candidates.  Now you have but one choice: to write in the name of your favorite political contributor to this blog, Mike Randolph.  Once again, that’s M-I-K-E (space) R-A-N-D-O-L-P-H.

Before I go, I have a favor to ask of you.  If you would, please petition the major networks to let me into the upcoming debates.  It would hardly be fair if the people were given less than all possible information about all available candidates.  The more the media hears from you, the more viable I’ll appear, and the better chance there will be that you’ll see me on your television screen.

Thanks in advance.  Until next time, I’ll be out on the trail!

Cheers,
Mike Randolph

One Link

June 19th, 2008

Quick recommendation for you: this article from the AV Club blog is outstanding, and pretty much backs up everything I’ve ever written about humor on this site over the last four years.  Just a perfect critique of the lazy comedy that pervades the media.

A real post is forthcoming.

-Darrell

UPDATE: My sister left me a comment that got me writing far too much about movie comedies.  If you’re interested, read the comments.

Happy Blogpodge to Me

June 16th, 2008

Hello.  Yeah, it’s been awhile since I rapped at ya.  Sorry.  Allow me to make it up to you with a blogpodge.  Let us begin.

I just watched the 18-hole playoff for the US Open between Rocco Mediate and Tiger Woods.  It was by far the most fun I’ve had watching golf.  What a match — Rocco came so close on at least three different occasions, but yet again, Tiger proved unbeatable.  And I was rooting pretty hard for the old underdog.

How long have people been leaving out the first R in ‘forward’?  Even a Toyota commercial I saw had the VO guy say, “Moving fo-ward”.  It’s their fucking slogan, but it doesn’t seem to matter that it’s mispronounced.  Bah.

One more grammatical point that’s been bothering me: I’m hearing a lot of people use ‘if’ in a sentence when they mean ‘whether’.  During the golf tournament there was some financial services commercial that asked “if you will retire at 62 or 67.”  This isn’t hard-and-fast wrong, but since an alternative (rather than a condition) is involved, ‘whether’ would work a whole lot better.  There’s no room for ambiguity, either.

In a recent-ish episode of his video blog, Penn Jillette talked about having dinner with someone who directs porn movies.  Penn’s wife was curious about how he finds women to do the kinky stuff and what motivated them to do it.  He offered a number of theories (none of which, thankfully, involved abusive childhoods), but Penn’s favorite was that perhaps they wished to “immortalize their youth”.  He was struck by the phrase and considered it oddly beautiful.  I can see his point — it is a rather romantic notion.  Still, it has kind of a Norma Desmond feel to it that for some people, youth is so valuable that they would preserve its mere image in whatever way possible.  Again, I’m ambivalent.

This age of ours has been called a lot of things: The Millennials, The Information Age, etc.  Allow me to suggest one: The Future.  Yes, it’s the information age and all that… so let’s just call it the future.  It’s great being from the future, you know — everything’s way more convenient than it was in the past.  Also, part of this suggestion is that after, say, 2012, we have to stop calling it the future.  Then it can be the post-future or the Nuclear Mutant Age.

The other day in his blog, James Lileks said something about how July Fourth signals the end of summer for him.  He’s dead wrong.  Doesn’t he know that it’s Thanksgiving that signals the end of summer?  Silly Minnesotan.

If you’re looking for a smart 3D platformer, check out Psychonauts.  You can play it for free on GameTap or purchase it on a previous-gen console.  The last level is frustrating as all hell, but they make it so you don’t have to repeat huge chunks.  Also, it has jokes that are actually funny.  Highly recommended.

Hey look, Obama finally won.  Probably.  We’ll have to see for sure once the conventions take place, which I think will be in about five years.  You know how those political parties are — it’s all smoke-filled back rooms with handshake deals and winks and nods.  It may sound like I’m joking, but both Hillary Clinton and Ron Paul are still in their respective races.  Delegates can still ignore the votes if they really wanted.  Wait, this just in… Ron Paul dropped out (yes, it took him this long).  Nowadays, there’s pretty much no chance of that happening (it is The Future, after all), but it wouldn’t be the first time if it did.

I’m only linking to this because I like the comic shorthand for biologist as “man holding octopus”.  That is all.

Speaking of web comics, I can’t be the only one excited about the upcoming wedding between Molly Sanders and Roast Beef Kazenzakis, am I?  Anyone?  Come on, this wedding will be sick as hell.

Well, I should go wait by the phone.  Vince McMahon is gonna give me a quarter-million dollars for my birthday.

-Darrell

The Rules

June 1st, 2008

Silence, little ones, for I shall give you the most useful guidance you could ever desire.  My many years of absorbing the culture and interacting with humanity have allowed me to become well-versed in the art and craft of humor.  While it is far from perfect, I have compiled a list of general guidelines that should be followed whenever one wishes to amuse one’s company.  These I call, in pithy fashion, The Rules of Humor.  Why do I get to be the arbiter of humor?  Because I have a blog and I’m the first one I know to write a post about it.  (That’s one of the Rules of Blogging.)  So behold the Rules and pay heed!

—————

1) Originality first and foremost

This is the most important rule, so it comes at the top of the list.  Unoriginal schtick has its own word in the comedian’s lingo: hacky.  If you joke about the size of the package of airline peanuts, you might be a hack.  If you complain about call waiting, you might be a hack.  If the rhythm of most of your act mirrors those of the last two sentences, you might be ripping off Jeff Foxworthy (who, incidentally, is more of an opportunist than a hack).  Anyway, since humor is based more on surprise than anything, familiar and unoriginal shit isn’t funny.

Also, needless to say, stealing a joke from someone else is verboten.  Think up your own jokes or attribute them to their inventor.

1A) Quoting something isn’t a joke, and doesn’t make you funny

I’ve written about this before (over three years ago!), but it bears repeating.  Simply recognizing the funny parts of a movie doesn’t make you funny and is possibly the least impressive thing you can do (yes, farting is more impressive).

Quoting isn’t 100% evil, mind you.  It’s useful when remembering movie lines with your friends, and if you can toss in a quote when it fits the situation (and still manages to be surprising), then maybe you can make it funny.  If not, keep the Anchorman references to a minimum, please.

1B) Don’t be lazy

I know I’m just repeating “be original”, but I still have things to bitch about.  I hate jokes that just use comedy shorthand.  This is a bit more specific than the hacky “airplane peanuts” comedians.  I’m referring to folks who base jokes on broad strokes painted by someone else.  This is another thing I’ve mentioned, but anyone who makes a “Dick Cheney is Satan” joke is guilty of senseless laziness.

2) Timing… is…… important

This is another rule that should seem self-evident.  Anyone who talks seriously about comedians or comic actors will inevitably address their timing, and everyone has had at least a few jokes fail because they weren’t timed right.  I think this is where humor is most like an art — you can’t measure the best timing.  You just have to sense it.

As a rule, “you just have to sense it” seems pretty vague, so let me clarify.  As you get older, that sense gets better, whether consciously or not.  My rule, then, is to trust that sense.  If you’re in a conversation and you think of an awesome joke, great.  But if you think of it a half-beat too late, just eat it.  ‘Tis far better not to tell a joke than to tell one badly.

3) Know when to stop

While applicable in any situation, this rule most commonly comes into play in group situations.  Example: One guy makes a funny comment and the group chuckles.  The girl next to him attaches a hilarious rejoinder and everyone laughs audibly.  Then another dude does even better with his joke, knocking the place down.  Then you come up with a joke.  It’s okay, but not as funny as that last one.  In this situation, you’ve just killed the mood and have become the villain of the evening.  Fuck off, hypothetical you.  You ruin everything.

The lesson here, of course, is to know when to stop.  Don’t push a joke too far.  Otherwise, you’ll look selfish and greedy.  Just think about how dickish it is to insist on getting the last laugh every time.  People like that seem to care more about attention — any kind of attention — than making the world a funnier place.  They’re the karaoke warblers of humor — they don’t care that they’re killing the vibe by screeching out a slow-ass Christina Aguilera tune.  They just want the attention.

4) Jokes should never come from a mean place

I’m serious about this one.  Jokes should not come at the expense of others.  I don’t mean that they can’t be critical or biting but it shouldn’t be mean.  The line here is finest when we deal with political humor, but it should still be clear.

Here’s an example.  Will Ferrell’s impersonation of George W. Bush as a bumbling doofus, mispronouncing words and misunderstanding the situation: funny.  One of Seth MacFarlane’s cartoon characters simply calling George W. Bush a retard: not funny.  Even if the object is someone you don’t like, mean humor doesn’t (and shouldn’t) work.

Here’s another example.  Jokes about Jenna Bush’s party days that mirror those of her father’s: probably funny.  Jokes about Chelsea Clinton’s appearance: never funny.  In fact, pretty much any joke about any person’s appearance isn’t funny.  We should be ridiculed for the things we control, not the things we can’t.  It’s the real reason why nobody laughed at Don Imus’s infamous joke: it was mean-spirited and not funny.

I would even go as far to say that at least 90% of fat jokes are not funny.  As much as I like Conan O’Brien, he’s the worst offender.  He has told the same six jokes about Luciano Pavarotti, Al Roker, Ruben Studdard, and Kirstie Alley for fifteen years.  In those fifteen years, only one joke has been decent, and that was because it was a silly pun.  Enough already.  I understand that it’s hard to come up with jokes every day, but do you have to be lazy AND mean?

(The “decent” fat joke, by the way was an SAT analogy (of all things):  Nomar Garciaparra is to “I love Mia Hamm” as Luciano Pavarotti is to “I-ah love-ah me-ah ham!”  Not great, but it’s the best fat joke he’s ever done.)

5) A joke should have substance

There should be something behind any joke — a point, an argument, an observation… anything.  Otherwise, you’re just jingling keys in front of a baby.

I think repeated violations of rules 4 and 5 are the biggest reasons American Dad is the worst cartoon on TV.  It’s either aimless hatred for Republicans or utter nonsense that comes from nowhere.  (Mexican vampires?  That was supposed to be funny?)

6) Remain calm

We’ve all seen at least one guy whose energy is too high to sell a joke.  He lets the mood of the room overtake him to the point that he’s hyped up, yelling some joke that was funny inside his head.  He isn’t the funniest guy in the room, but he’s certainly the loudest.  I hate that guy.

I hate him even more if he’s on stage.  There are few things that irritate me more than a manic comedian.  It bugs me mostly because it scatters the humor to the point that it has no punch.  Robin Williams is at his worst when he’s in Robin Williams Mode.  Otherwise, he’s a pretty good actor with decent comedy chops.  And of course, I have to mention Dane Cook as a major violator.  Early Dane Cook was fine — his first Comedy Central special was mostly great.  He didn’t end it very well, though, because he decided to run around the stage and take his shirt off.  Now he’s way more popular than he needs to be, and it’s mostly on the strength of the crowd reactions to his manic bullshit.  What should have been a well-regarded high-energy comic is now an exploding squirrel who is loved by frat boys and derided by comedy snobs like me.

Keep in mind, I’m not saying that high energy is bad — Sam Kinison had high energy, but it was focused and brilliant.  It’s that his wasn’t an explosion of “look at how excited I am to be funny!”

7) Know your audience

This one shouldn’t take any explanation.  Know your audience and tailor your sense of humor to them.  Don’t insult your company with a joke they wouldn’t like.  There’s no point being clever if no one around you will pick up on it.

—————

Well, that’s it.  As you can see, it’s hard to talk about humor and be funny at the same time — that’s just kind of how it works.  I should end with a disclaimer: I realize that humor is inherently subjective, and that these rules are based more on my own sense of humor than others’.  However, I think my observations are pretty fair and true (surprise, surprise).  Also, you might have noticed that these are the Rules of Humor, and not the Rules of Comedy.  This was meant to express that humor exists in its realm wherever you go, regardless of whether you’re putting on a fucking show.  Finally, this list of rules is likely incomplete, so if you have any proposed additions, I’d be happy to hear them.

-Darrell

Ramblin’ ‘Bout Rasslin’ (Ag’in)

May 28th, 2008

You know what’s crazy?  It’s been over a year since I wrote at length about how lousy the WWF had been.  To quote College Football Hall of Famer Ron Simmons, damn.  Since so much has happened in the world of rasslin’, I think it’s high time for an update.  So, readers who don’t give two shits about wrestling, I apologize.  Come to think of it, though, this post will probably be fun to read anyway, since it’ll be filled with bad jokes and fake tits.

The biggest development in wrestling is a personal one — I started watching TNA.  In a lot of ways, I’d say it’s better than the WWF at the moment.  They care about writing, humor, and delivery more than the WWF, and perhaps most surprisingly, they’ve delivered the first watchable women’s division I’ve ever seen.  They’re constantly innovating, coming up with interesting matches and fun rivalries, and most of their personalities are distinct.  I think the awkwardness from earlier years is subsiding.  But all that can be explored in greater detail in the following paragraphs, which I decided should loosely follow an awards-show format.  (It makes for good, lazy organization.)  Keep in mind that this is hastily thought-out and only partially accurate, considering the only broadcasts I watch regularly are TNA Impact and WWF Raw.  Let us begin with our first category.

MOST DISAPPOINTING DRUG SUSPENSION === King Booker === From what I understand, that’s why Booker T. is with TNA now: the WWF suspended him for violating the drug policy, so he quit.  In a year filled with drug suspensions, I call Booker’s the most disappointing because it ended the reign of King Booker.  Nobody played the role of a ridiculous, self-appointed authority figure better than Booker.  The faux-English affectations, the referring to everyone by his first name (e.g., calling Batista “young David”), the silly pinky salute… it was all outstanding.  He was a funnier royal send-up than even William Regal.  Which reminds me…

SECOND MOST DISAPPOINTING DRUG SUSPENSION === William Regal === And again, it comes during an interesting heel angle after winning the King of the Ring.  That farce of a tournament must be cursed.  Or maybe it’s just bad luck to be a character who milks a victory in a mid-season tournament.

LEAST SURPRISING DRUG SUSPENSION === Jeff Hardy === Even I could have guessed that he was involved in some sort of recreational drug.  Combine his stupid hair and penchant for taking the most consistently vicious bumps among any top-tier guy today and you’ll get a leading candidate for drug use.  It’s a shame, really — his high-flying shit is a big reason why I like him.  His mic skills aren’t great and that dance of his is just retarded, but he almost always delivers an entertaining match.  Here’s hoping he doesn’t get suspended for a third (and final) time.

MOST SUDDEN DRUG SUSPENSION === DH Smith === New kid, son of Davey Boy Smith, comes into the ring for his first TV match.  He doesn’t get the mic and makes a respectable (if not particularly memorable) debut.  A week later, he’s suspended for steroids.  Talk about a roller-coaster ride for Mr. Smith.

MOST CONVINCING PROOF THAT THE WWF DOESN’T CARE ABOUT THE TAG-TEAM BELTS === The Hardcore-Twink Connection === Properly, this tag team has no name — it’s just Hardcore Holly and Cody Rhodes.  But Cody Rhodes is your prototypical twink (muscle-bound, hairless, square-jawed babyface).  If he weren’t the American Dream’s son, there is no doubt in my mind that he’d be doing gay porn.  So that’s why I call the world’s least interesting tag team the Hardcore-Twink Connection.  Why so uninteresting?  Just watch Twink struggle with a microphone.  His woodenness is made more apparent whenever he has to argue with Santino.  It’s like watching Letterman interview Paris Hilton — he runs so many circles around her, she doesn’t even realize how bad she looks.

Anyway, they’re currently the Tag Team Champions while decent teams with equal ring skills, better mic skills, and WAY better chemistry keep losing to them.  The champs should be Santino & Carlito, and they should have ongoing rivalries with Cryme Tyme, London & Kendrick, and Cade & Murdoch.  These are facts.  I also think Jeff Hardy should go back to tag action — the Hardys’ matches against Edge and Christian are the stuff of legend.  If Matt won’t go along, give Jeff another partner. 

BEST CUT-SCENE IN RECENT MEMORY === AJ Styles’s impromptu honeymoon with Karen Angle === I could write novels about how brilliant AJ Styles is.  He is easily the best part about TNA, and happily enough, the organization actually seems to recognize as much.  He’s a fearsome wrestler whose goal in life seems to be to befriend as many of his competitors as possible.  He’s a blameless sweetheart whom everyone hates for reasons that he insists are misunderstandings.  Even when he starts feuds, his character makes you believe that he’s doing it out of love and innocence.  He is the most lovable heel I’ve ever seen.

Just before the cut-scene in question, AJ accidentally “married” Karen Angle during her vow-renewal ceremony with Kurt (stupid, yes, but it set up some serious brilliance here, so I’m willing to forgive).  In an effort to make Kurt jealous, Karen ran with it and went with AJ (and the TNA camera crew) on a date.  What follows is up to interpretation (I think that’s the first time I’ve ever said that about a wrestling segment).  Either AJ really is a boyish, hopeless romantic, or he’s playing along to make Karen feel lousy for using him.  Either way, the segment works.  A wrestling segment managed to be funny and heartbreaking at the same time.  Well done, TNA.

MOST WELCOME RETURN === Chris Jericho === Still funny, still a great wrestler.  Plus, I’m liking this Jericho-HBK rivalry.  The best feuds have two guys with good timing.

MOST ABSURD MALE CHARACTER === Shark Boy === (Curry Man is a close second.)  Shark Boy is absurd in every way — he’s a scrawny dude with a full-head shark mask who talks exactly like Stone Cold.  He even appropriates the catch-phrases.  Oh, and he stands on the turnbuckles and drinks clam juice.  Completely ridiculous, but in the few weeks when TNA put him over, it worked.  And wisely, they’ve shown restraint by not emphasizing him every week.  As funny as he was the first two times, I figured they’d beat me over the head with him until I hated him.  I guess the WWF has me trained.

MOST ABSURD FEMALE CHARACTER === ODB === Another TNA winner.  ODB can best be described as a linebacker with fake tits.  Unlike most female wrestlers, she’s built for power and is entertaining in the ring.  What makes her more absurd than, say, Roxxi Laveau, the voodoo queen?  Well, ODB carries a flask that gives her Popeye-like power during matches.  And she slaps her breasts when taunting.  And she once said that her breasts were filled with 100% pure vodka.  Do you need any other evidence?

NICEST THING THE WWF HAS DONE FOR ME ALL YEAR === Maria’s Playboy shoot === All things considered, it wasn’t the greatest of spreads.  But Maria’s long been my favorite WWF Diva, so I’m pleased as punch that I got to see her naked.  And now she’s in a lot more matches, which is great for my libido… but that’s it.  She’s otherwise pretty brutal in-ring.  She needs to go back to managing/dating somebody.  The Santino thing ran its course, so she could attach herself to somebody else.  She was a pretty good straight man for Santino, so I’m thinking maybe a turn with Kennedy while he has the feud with Burchill and Katie Lea.  I’m thinking that could work, but maybe I just want Maria and Katie Lea in the ring together.

BEST WRESTLING GIMMICK === Eric Young’s silliness === He won my heart once I saw that he was afraid of his own pyrotechnics.  On top of that, he has an alter ego, Super Eric, who is basically Young in a mask and cape (and he ISN’T afraid of his pyro!).  If he’s struggling during a tag match, he’ll leave the ring, return as Super Eric, and destroy the competition.  The kicker is that the “real” Eric Young insists that it isn’t him and expresses regret that he once again missed meeting Super Eric, his greatest hero.  So silly.

WORST ENTRANCE MUSIC === tie: John Cena, Randy Orton === This isn’t just because I happen to not like the wrestlers themselves.  The songs really are as irritating as the characters they introduce.  Cena’s with its repetitive electronic-trumpet “bwah da-nah bwaaah” and Orton’s stupid “Hey!”  Man, they’re bad.  Luckily, Orton’s music changed a few weeks ago, so we’re down to just one entrance tune that makes me claw at my eardrums.

BEST FAREWELL OF A WRESTLER I NEVER REALLY LIKED ANYWAY === Ric Flair’s final match at Wrestlemania === The old man had one last great match in him.  Everyone knew he and Michaels would pull out all the stops, and they certainly did.  Everyone knew that it would end with HBK giving Flair some Sweet Chin Music one last time, and it was not disappointing.  The final count for backhand chops (WOO!): forty.  Also, the tear-strewn farewell at Raw the next night was a nice capper.

WORST GIMMICK MATCH === Big Show v. Floyd Mayweather at Wrestlemania === Come on Floyd, for twenty million bucks you couldn’t take even a moderate bump?  That was the least convincing David-over-Goliath match I can remember.

LEAST EXCITING ADDITION TO TNA === Sting === I’ve never understood the draw to the Stinger.  He wears makeup and… um… is there anything else about him?  He talks generically tough and for some reason he’s a perpetual face.  That’s pretty much it.  Why am I supposed to be excited that Sting is on the roster?  He’s just taking time away from guys I already like.

N.B.: A close second for this award goes to Booker T.  Having to lose the King Booker gag removed everything entertaining about him.  Perhaps his new heel turn will improve things.

BEST INJURY === Cena’s torn pec === I don’t wish pain on the man, and I don’t mean to suggest that I was happy about the injury, but… it was pretty nice not having to hear his stupid music every week.

WORST INJURY === Candice Michelle’s broken clavicle === Pretty brutal and painful.  I wanted this category to go to Gail Kim’s busted implant, but not when there’s a shattered collarbone on the mat.

STUPIDEST LINE THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MENACING === Randy Orton === The line in question was delivered to Jeff Hardy.  Orton had Jeff’s brother Matt (who had just had a real-life appendectomy) vulnerable.  To enrage Jeff, Orton exclaimed, “I’m gonna kick him where his appendix used to be!”  Ugh.

BEST FINISHER IN THE HISTORY OF WRESTLING === Petey Williams’s Canadian Destroyer === And no, I’m not overstating things.  The man does a front-flip pile driver.  Imagine the trust the other wrestler has to have to even attempt it.  Just watch it and tell me it isn’t insane.

WORST PERFORMER WHO IS STILL ON TV EVERY WEEK === Vickie Guerrero === According to Adam, the WWF was going to get rid of her, but she’s so unpopular, they’re keeping her on as an uber-heel.  That’s where I think the WWF misses the mark where TNA hits it — the WWF still acts like the live audience is most important.  The volume of the arena crowd’s hatred is enough to convince them that Vickie is a good heel.  But they evidently don’t pay attention to ratings, blogs, or general chatter that would clearly tell them that she doesn’t belong on TV.  People aren’t booing her because her character is a power-hungry bitch; they’re booing her because she — as a performer — has yet to sell a single line.  Lose her.

MOST SEEMINGLY INTERMINABLE TITLE REIGN === Randy Orton === He only won the title because Cena injured himself.  How did that turn into a seven-month reign?  Nobody, not even Orton’s mother, was excited about the Age of Orton.  The Orton reign did put one thing in perspective: there are worse champions than John Cena.  At least Cena can deliver a joke reasonably well.  With Orton, they don’t even try anymore — they just prop him up as the silent, angry kid in the back of the bus with nothing interesting to say.

WORST HIRE === Mike Adamle === Why?  Even among people who liked the original American Gladiators, he wasn’t popular.  A creepy, awkward interviewer/announcer, Adamle has been around forever, and nobody knows why.  Now he’s a play-by-play man for ECW and, again, nobody knows why.  My mother remembers when he did sideline reporting for NFL games even before Gladiators, and she hated him then.  She’s convinced that he has compromising photos of every network executive, and that he unearths a new one every time he loses a job.

MOST SPLENDIFFOROUS DEPARTURE === Bobby Lashley === Stupid babyhead (that’s Adam’s name for him) left the WWF for an apparent attempt at an MMA career.  Hooray.  Wait, what’s that?  He wants to sign with TNA?  Say it ain’t so!  Maybe he could tag-team with Sting and form the Uninteresting Vaguely Goodish Guys.  The kids’ll love ‘em.

BEST HEEL === Santino Marella === The fake Italian accent has won me over.  Santino is a fantastic heel — he’s a hot-headed fool who mispronounces everything.  “I’m-a so mad!!”

BEST BEAST === Awesome Kong === For the first time in the storied history of the Darrell’s Personal Wrestling-Related Awards Show, the “Best Beast” award goes to a woman.  Wrestling hasn’t pulled off a scary, silent beast character in some time.  (I think the original incarnation of Kane was the last to do it well, though I have been reasonably happy with Umaga.)  Now, TNA has a silent, hulking beast of a character and it’s the Women’s Champion.  She normally wins in squashes, and it’s convincing nearly every time.  This is why you should start watching TNA.

BEST INTERVIEWER === tie: J.B. and Crystal, both on TNA === It’s nice to see interviewers who have more range than the area between nervous and frightened.  Also, Crystal is ridiculously hot.

MOST BITTERSWEET MINOR DECLINE === John Cena === As I’ve mentioned, I’m not a fan of Cena.  But his drop to a non-title feud with JBL over practically nothing… it just doesn’t feel right.  JBL back in the ring doesn’t feel right on its own, and now a former champion has a meaningless beef with him?  I like that I’m seeing less Cena, but it seems like they’re wasting him on this feud.  I still contend that the WWF should try to turn Cena heel.  He has the mic skills — let’s see if the crowd goes along with it.  He’s divisive enough as it is, so maybe it’d work out if he did some cheap shotting and devious plotting.  It’s better than every other incarnation they’ve given him.

MOST UNDERUTILIZED WWF STAR === Umaga === He’s a pretty good beast character who sells his mania very well.  I like the nonsensical yelling and the idea that he’s fearsome to any and every wrestler who encounters him.  They pull it off well.  So why is he always part of undercards and B-plots?  He needs a good manager and a title run.

MOST UNDERUTILIZED TNA STAR === Jay Lethal === Having Black Machismo in a boring love triangle is a mistake.  He needs to get back to fighting for the X-Division championship so we can hear more of his spot-on Randy Savage impression.

An aside: man, the TNA roster is loaded these days.  It’s no wonder they keep having multi-man gimmickry matches — there wouldn’t be any room for all of them otherwise.  And now they’re talking about adding Bobby Lashley AND Ultimate Warrior?  I hope those are empty rumors.

MOST CURIOUS GIMMICK === Vince’s million-dollar giveaway === So a sweepstakes passes for entertainment now?  Granted, Vince just announced this as his big idea on Monday, so it could still go anywhere, but really?  Giving away a million bucks couldn’t possibly bring in over a million dollars in TV viewers, can it?  I don’t know… here’s hoping the mean Vince pops out in the coming weeks and gives his prize to Donald Trump.

LEAST INTERESTING BELT === WWF Championship === Oh, how the mighty has fallen.  The Cena-Orton reign is over, thankfully, but I must say, Triple-Haitch isn’t as fun as he should be.  He’s still feuding with Orton, which is boring, and frankly, HHH is a little slow in the ring these days.  He’s always been kinda hulking, and the spinebuster is still exciting (if frightening, considering those quad injuries), but it’s getting hard for me to root for him.  I still like the guy, though, so maybe he just needs a better foil. 

So who should be the next champ?  The way I see it, the most believable champs based on looks and in-ring ability would be Jericho, Cena, Kennedy, Michaels, or Umaga.  That’s my top card on Raw.  Orton has no charisma, Hardy’s too small, JBL’s too old and awkward.  Of course, all of that might not matter, considering next month’s draft shuffle.

Okay, I’ve rambled WAY too long on this one, so I’ll stop.  I can’t wait to see what the rasslin’ fans have to contribute.

-Darrell

Can We Blame Dan Rather for This?

May 22nd, 2008

On Friday, Diamondbacks pitcher Doug Davis will return to the mound after six weeks on the disabled list.  What makes his trip to the DL unique is that he had to undergo surgery to treat thyroid cancer.  Now he’s back and I’m overjoyed that he is healthy and that he can again contribute to the best rotation in baseball.  However, media folks have thrown around a word in conjunction with Davis’s tribulation that I think has been far overused: courage.  Whenever anyone mentions Doug Davis (or Lance Armstrong, or Jon Lester…), it’s now de rigeur to talk at length about the tremendous courage he has displayed.  Granted, he surely had a tough row to hoe, but has he truly been courageous?

Strictly speaking, yes.  Merriam-Webster defines “courage” as the “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty”.  Anyone who gets treatment for a life-threatening illness is, by definition, courageous.  I’m still uneasy about using the word so indiscriminately.  I don’t want to sound too insensitive, but I don’t think it’s automatic that cancer equals courage.  Think about it this way: if you had a life-threatening illness, wouldn’t you make all efforts to have it treated?  Wouldn’t you make every decision thenceforth in the interest of survival?  I sure as hell would.  I don’t think that would make me courageous in the way we understand it, mostly because it wouldn’t make me special.

I think we understand courage a little differently from how it is spelled out in the dictionary.  Courage is literally the mental or moral strength to withstand danger, but it has a connotation that courage is displayed only rarely, and only by the finest people.  “Courage” implies that a decision has been made that is much riskier than its alternative, and that there is some higher goal driving that decision.  Most cancer patients have two choices: undergo treatment or die slowly.  By choosing treatment, they are (smartly) choosing the less risky path.  They’re doing what nearly every sane person would do.  That doesn’t jibe with our understanding of courage.

The way I see it, courage needs that decision to take the riskier path.  American civil rights leaders showed great courage because “rabble-rousing” was necessary to improve society, but it also was a great way to get shot.  Firefighters who run into burning buildings to save children are definitely courageous.  Medal of Honor recipients have made countless decisions to brave danger in order to protect their country or their fellow man.  If we want to return to personal, medical matters, I would say that those who choose the new, experimental treatments and those who donate a kidney display more courage than most cancer patients.  I don’t mean to diminish cancer — especially during the most cancer-fearing era of our time — but I think you see my point.

Friends and loyal readers, I know what you’re thinking — there goes Darrell again, turning a weighty issue into a semantic argument.  Well, dammit, word choice is important to me and it always bothers me when a word gets misapplied and overused.  Let the medical establishment worry about cancer — that’s their specialty.  I’ll be correcting their grammar while they do it.

-Darrell

This Just In: Murdering Prostitutes Still Fun

May 15th, 2008

Sorry for the delay, loyal readers.  I’ve been busy almost every day, but it’s still no excuse.  I have to write something tonight, since I’m off to Mexico for several sun-soaked days, and depriving you of my brilliance any longer would just be cruel.  I may be thoughtless, but you’ll never accuse me of being cruel.  So to get something down in writing, check out this bit of nonsense I farted out: what I have learned from playing Grand Theft Auto IV for the Xbox 360.

1. The worst crime you can commit is to mildly annoy a cop.  If I hit pedestrians, there’s about a 30% chance that the cops will chase me, and if I can lose sight of them, they forget about me.  But if my beat-up Stallion (that handles like a bread truck, by the way) accidentally clips a police cruiser, it’s all over for me.  An even worse example: early in the game, I wanted to explore Liberty City just to see how big it is.  I set a waypoint for the other side of town and started driving.  Well, since I hadn’t done too many missions, half the city was blocked off.  There’s a blockade in the middle of the expressway that’s manned by dozens of cops.  Why a supposedly active police force uses so many resources for such a mundane task is a mystery to me.  Anyway, I run into the blockade with my car and decide to walk, maybe see if the cops will offer some in-game excuse for why half the city is inaccessible.  “Hello, officer, nice day today, I was just wondering…”  BLAM BLAM BLAM!  That’s right — they immediately start shooting AND my wanted level goes to a maximum six stars.  The city’s entire police force — helicopters and all — are chasing me because I intended to ask, “Hey, why can’t I cross this bridge?”  Fucking fascists.

2. Crime is much easier if you have a set mission.  While on missions, it seems that cops are fewer, farther between, and more willing to let some things slide.  The lesson here: wanton destruction is okay as long as your destination involves murdering pot dealers.

3. American girls have ridiculously low standards.  I, a broke Slavic immigrant just off the boat, took thin and sexy Michelle to one game of bowling and one game of eight-ball on two consecutive days.  Now she’s 100% fond of me and fucks me whenever I’m tired of busting heads.

4. Virtual sex is absolutely real these days.  While fucking Michelle, she unconvincingly yells out, “Oh Niko, I really like you!  You’re so interesting!”  Change the name and that describes three of my last five sexual encounters pretty much to the letter.

5. Life never gives you an opportunity to explain yourself.  I took my cousin to the strip club and had the worst experience ever.  The first time, the screen says that weapons aren’t allowed.  So while I’m pressing buttons, trying to figure out how to drop the knife that I didn’t even know I had, I accidentally stab the bouncer.  Now five security guys are surrounding me and I have no choice but to murder them all.  The next day, I go back to the strip club.  I manage to get in, but accidentally walk onto the stage, which prompts the same five security guys to come after me (whom I thought I had just murdered), thus ending my quest to see CGI implants.  For situations like that, I wish there were a button that lets you expose your palms and back away.

6. Television and radio are fucking terrible.  How many times can a game make the same transparent class-stereotype jokes and call it satire?  My count is somewhere in the thousands by now.  Also, I think it’s a sign that 3D animation still has a long way to go when it can manage to suck the funny out of Ricky Gervais.  (Yes, a robotic, rendered version of the actual Ricky Gervais performs at the comedy club.  I hope they paid him well.)

7. Russians have bad fashion sense.  Just go into the Russian store and look at the five varieties of clothing they offer.  I must admit, though, those track pants just make me feel faster.

8. Everybody likes a sociopath with no apparent loyalties.  Why else would I be so popular with every character in the game? 

9. The underworld has some demanding motherfuckers.  Pretty much every mission goes like this: “Hey there, European immigrant I’ve never met, how would you like to kill somebody for me?  I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”

10. Darts is super easy, bowling is tricky, and pool is impossible.  Funny, I always had the opposite problem in real life.

11. Sometimes, being irrational is necessary to advance the plot.  Like when Niko decided that he had to execute Vlad for fucking his cousin’s lady, even though Vlad is a powerful Russian mobster.  I thought I was controlling Niko, not vice versa.

12. Being killed in a hail of gunfire isn’t so bad.  The Liberty City hospital will fix you up right quick.  You’ll be back on the streets in mere hours.

13. If you’re gonna be anybody, you must adopt a cartoony accent.  I think Little Jacob watched Cool Runnings a few too many times.

Eh, that’s enough.  All in all, it’s a swell game.  If you have the chance, have your roommate buy it so you can play it while he’s at work.

-Darrell

Focus!

May 3rd, 2008

Omigod guys, you wouldn’t believe this.  The other day, I was teaching a bunch of teenagers (I know I know, but really they aren’t that hard to relate to) and something totally struck me.  It was a pretty big realization that kind of undercut my assumption that teenagers would be easier to teach than younger kids, but still I stand by that assumption.  Anyway, I realized that those motherfuckers get distracted easier than just about any group I’ve met.  Case in point: I told a throwaway joke in one of my classes that I thought would ease the chatter and bring the room’s attention back to me.  I was wrong.  Story is, the kids were talking about some dude with a Hispanic name and one referred to him as “Alex Guatemala or something”.  I mentioned that in contrast to her previous description of him as “Mexican”, this statement might be borderline offensive.  My throwaway joke: “Eh, it’s Alex Chimichanga or something.”

That’s not a great joke.  It worked just fine in context, you should know, but I don’t consider it that great.  Maybe it was the timing of it, since that often makes jokes work better than they probably should.  It’s funny how we all elevate cleverness and phrasing, but 90% of comedy is still timing.  It’s why Bill Cosby can dominate a room just by telling simple stories about his family.  It’s why waiting a few seconds to shoot a barb can be the difference between cuteness and rudeness.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, the chimichanga joke.  You know, chimichangas aren’t truly Mexican food.  It took an American to decide that it’d be a good idea to drop a burrito into the fryer.  That’s two American qualities in one: the co-optation of vaguely foreign cuisine and deep-frying.  The entire menu at an American Chinese restaurant does the same thing.  Chop suey?  Not even remotely Chinese.  Fortune cookies?  Nuh-uh.  If it seems less like healthy, bare-bones, authentic food and more like drunken munchies, it’s probably an American creation.

That reminds me, it occurred to me the other day that our two most popular drugs are encouraging weight gain.  We all have a favorite drunk food, and those of us who smoke pot have a favorite high food.  Respectively, mine are tacos and everything.  I should go on a sweeps-week news show — common, popular substances are making us all fat!  Recreation is killing us all!  Our children are eating poison!

Shit like that came up just last week: Channel 15 said there was a place in the Valley that would reach 150 degrees this summer.  We all surmised that they would use infrared thermometers to find rooftops and black cars whose surfaces topped off at one-fitty.  Fucking shock TV.  Fucking local news.  It was such a transparent okey-doke that it just made me mad.  Eat me, faceless anchor.  All this because I had to watch Lost on the big TV.

By the way, Lost is still great.  If you haven’t gotten into it, you must.  I know I’m a broken record, but it’s the only show where I’ll say this: you are missing out on something vital if you do not watch Lost.  It will inform and transform your philosophies and beliefs, as well as the ways you approach drama and humanity in general.  Stop being skeptical, you closed-minded fool.  Take my recommendations, for I am the arbiter of good taste.

Speaking of which, here are a few more recommendations.  You all probably watch and love The Office, but you also should be watching 30 Rock.  It’s delightfully silly and most of the jokes arise from the characters.  Top notch stuff.  Also, get your hands on DVDs for The Wire.  I’m only halfway through the second season and it’s already one of the best crime dramas I’ve seen.  It’s a brilliant depiction