Damn You Fox… again!

Bless me father, for I have slipped… it has been 7 months since I last stabbed FOX in the groin with a dull pencil.

So mush [sic] has happened since last that post, I don’t know where to begin. I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry for leaving my post. But the wealth of crap like “Joe Millionaire II,” “The Simple Life” and “My Big Fat Obnoxious Boyfriend” overwhelmed me. I could not bear to watch, even for material!

Well, upon reading the entertainment news, I dusted off my lance and decided I had to charging back into FOX. It seems they are planning a new dating show… and can you guess starring what demographic?

I’ll wait. Just think for a moment.

Right! Little People, aka the non-politically correct term: Midgets!

Apparently, both dwarf women and regular women are to vie for the affections of a dwarf man. And the kicker is, the LPA (Little People’s Association) is fine and dandy with this!

“…LPA president Matt Roloff said the Fox show may benefit people of short stature by depicting them as regular folks ‘just being themselves…’” (Yahoo News/Reuters)

You call this being themselves? It’s a dating show! It’s one of the phoniest forms of TV known to man!. And being that FOX is involved, you know it’ll have the most demeaning questions ever written…

“Bachelorete number 3, ‘If I were a munchkin and you Glinda, what would you do with my lollypop guild?’”

This show is a little something we like to call “pandering.” It singles people out by putting them on display. I’m all for dwarves to be looked at as people (cause they are), however I doubt that was the first notion that crossed that nerve ending in the FOX boardroom.

Look, if you want to see little people in action, start casting them in normal roles. It half worked on Seinfeld. Sure dwarves fill the bit parts nicely, as they can cram themselves into an R2 costume. I think, however, Warrick Davis is tired of playing irate leprechauns and teddy bears.

What’s to come next? Mama, I’m frightened! It just shows you how small minded the execs at the FOX network are.

(yeah, I think that’s the last bit of humanity I have, on to some fun)

On a lighter note, the creator of the aforementioned “A Simple Life,” has died. I know it sounds ghoulish to laud over the death of someone, especially dieing of breast cancer, but I’m going to hell anyway and am tired of mincing words.

She was a TV exec, labeled a “Reality Show Pioneer.” If that’s not enough for the gas chamber, she also came up with “Making the Band,” a prototype for “American Idol”; “The Love Cruise,” the sappy version of the Titanic; and the primarch of it all - the inaccurately named “Real World.”

Being the pioneer of the downfall of good and creative TV, and soon civilization… is not a good thing.

Random Thoughts

As some may know, I consider myself something of a philosopher. Not a very good one, mind you… just your average drop in the bucket, everone-who-has-a-blog type of a philosopher.

My style is that tired and true fortune cookieesque one-liner philosophies. You know, the ones so vague that they apply to everything and everyone - not unlike a TV Guide horoscope.

Well, I keep a notebook full of these things, and for a while I was filling it up at a pretty good clip. Then the brain freeze of 2002 hit, and I was in neutral.

Well, I’ve managed to start churning these things out again. So here are a few until I decide to publish the entire notebook:

“Pedestals are for heads of granite.”

&

“Lay not your sword
On the Eastern side of a hill,
Lest you need it on the West.”

And thus, today’s entry is done.

We Interrupt This Late-Breaking News Report…

…for a word from our sponsor?

One of the few advantages of a network having it’s own news agency is, when your watching your favorite show, you can be alerted at a moments notice to the goings on around you. Thus, the average couch-potato can be briefed about the end of the world without having to have done his/her homework before hand on why, and see it in real-time.

Well nothing as earth shattering as Ragnarøk is going on this week, but it’s just as cold. Yes, it’s blizzard time again, and every so often a news buffoon with a ruler interrupts the regularly scheduled buffoons with the latest totals. And then we are supposed to return to the show, already in progress. But do we?

Nope. We get sent to a sponsor’s bumper spot + 30 second commercial.

And who’s sponsoring this news update? Why, Jeep of course. Who better to sponsor a blizzard than an SUV company? How did that meeting go?

“Well if something bad happens and you report it, we’ll pay for it…”

It also makes you wonder about other possible ad combos.

Got a heat wave to report? Have Sears’s air-conditioning service pay for it. Flood - Roto-Rooter! Earthquake - All-State.

I must admit it is a semi-good marketing strategy. There’s just one flaw, however. If you don’t have what they’re selling by the time of the associated emergency, chances are it’s too late. Maybe next time, eh?

Pray we don’t see any ads for industrial strength Raid anytime soon!

Shogun: Total War

For Christmas this year I got a new strategy game, which I find to be quite the addictive little waste of time. The name of the game is Shogun: Total War and it’s a happy little jaunt through 15th Century Feudal Japan. Your objectives are simple, through select a clan and take over all of Japan.

It is like Age of Empires in that you must build up your farm and mining territories, as well as employ an intelligent building strategy for each province, allowing you to build up a massive army and decimate your opponents. When you invade or are invaded by another player, you are given the option of tactically commanding the battle. Or, if you so wish, you can leave it up to the computer’s discretion to resolve the hostilities.

The only two disadvantages I have found in playing this game, is firstly, you must have an heir (male child) or better yet a whole line of them, or when your warlord dies, you lose the game and all your lands go to your ally(ies) and of course your heirs are given out at the preference of the game. Secondly, should you tactically decide to command a battle, and your general is killed, even if you obliterate your enemies and take the field, you still lose the battle and will have to go in again and attempt to wrest power from your opponent.

And now in the fine tradition of humiliatingly undermining the integrity of the NWOt rating wheel of justice, I give Shogun: Total War 5 dead bleeding Tokagowan No-Dachi Samurai on a silver rich battlefield of doom…odd that I would finish that off with a battlefield of doom….

A Brush With Celebrity

Last night I watched Cartoon Network’s [Adult Swim], specifically Space Ghost: Coast-to-Coast. It got me remembering the time I met David Carradine at a convention. George Lowe, the voice of Space Ghost, was also there and I met him as well.

But back to Carradine. He was scheduled to arrive at 3pm. I got to the show about quarter after and he wasn’t there yet. But I figured in Manhattan, if you don’t go by train your screwed, so it was ok. Well, I got to see him at about 3:30pm. He signed the $20 photo and waved me off. He was gone by 3:45pm. Needless to say I was not impressed and very disappointed.

There was Kwai Chang Caine sitting with the stereotypical bouncer (a gorilla in Versace) on one side, a showgirl looking wench on the other side, some weasel behind him on a cell phone, and he in a cheap Vegas-lounge-act/car-dealer-esque brown suit. He didn’t even look up as he scrolled his name and a yin-yang on the picture.

I knew the press said he was a jerk, but I figured they called him that cause he didn’t play the Hollywood game. Guess they were right after all. It just proves what a good actor he is by his nice guy impression.

Now George Lowe, there was a nice guy. He was willing (or at least patient enough) to talk with all the fan-boys hovering around his table. We chatted a good 45 minutes about the cartoon industry, his early voice over stuff, and how Space Ghost is produced and other random topics. The man is sharp as a tack too. Just take a look at the autograph, complete with snack tip!

It’s yet another example of don’t always believe what you see on TV.

A Glancing Thought

Today I was browsing our local big named/mass franchised bookseller. As I walked in, I went over to one of the first tables. Usually it had a selection of off beat and humor books.

However, today and last week and week before that the table was set up different. It was a pile of books devoted to the flavor of the month: Heath and Fitness.

And this made me wonder, “So, is laughter no longer the best medicine?”

An Open Letter…

To the punks who stole my garbage can lid,

The winter season is upon us. As such, the horrific winds and snows this time of year can be quite brutal. That is why it caused much dismay to see my garbage can unlidded. The sight of naked garbage on the curbside in 20-degree temperature is indeed a miserable one.

Begrudgingly, I put on slippers to seek out the vagrant top. However it was to no avail; the top was stolen. And I am sure it was stolen for other lids, equi-sized and weighted, if wind blown, were only feet from their parent cans and not missing.

So I say to you, the pail-cover bandit, or bandits, return the object in question or there will be hell to pay. You hear me? Hell!

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “How can he pay me hell if he doesn’t know who I am?” Well, one advantage to being head of a multi-faceted organization is - I know all. I know who you are and where you live. I know what bus routes go past your house.

Another advantage is that you do not know who I am or where I live. So this means EVERYONE who has stolen a can lid in the past 13 hours will have to return it to its rightful owner in order to ensure a safe night. For you cannot know if you are the one in question, can you? No.

You have 6 hours. If there is no lid on my can by then, well: you will be beaten about the head and shoulders with a modest sized dumpster; your family shall be chopped up and buried alive (or as alive as can be expected after being chopped up) in said dumpster; and your parakeet shall be roasted on an open flame. That is, of course, if you have a parakeet… for that I don’t know. Or don’t I? Non-parakeet owners are not off the hook.

Oh, if you, the lid thief, do not read this blog… that’s your own fault.

Time’s a wastin’.

Foul Language

I’d hate to bite the hand that will potentially feed me, but I have no choice.

As we advance in the methods of communication, we lose quality in what is said. I’m sure the more lucid of us knows what I mean, however all those “l33t” folk may be a tad lost. So, let me begin with a little history.

For years, letter writing was the only way of communicating over long distances. And during that time, the written word flourished. As Civil War documentaries show, even the most backwards farm boy wrote with such style that it puts current Rhodes scholars to shame. Then came the telephone, and letter writing became almost obsolete.

As calling rates went up, so did the need for brevity. Not wit… just brevity. The spoken word suffered. And as interesting the forms of slang that developed may be, it’s gets annoying when it seeps into the vernacular without realizing it, ya dig dude? I guess it’s the evolution of language so it’s excusable to a point. However, enter the next advance in communication: the Internet and all it’s products.

Email, IM and chat rooms have become safe havens for the most abominable acts of English butchery. ALL CAPS, abbreviated thoughts and constant misspellings are all too commonplace. And what’s the deal with using numbers and punctuation marks as letters? Haven’t we gotten passed the point of seeing how many words we can spell with a pocket calculator?

I may misspell a lot, but it’s due to the fact I can’t type. Not being able to type quickly and the desire to punctuate and spell properly do not a happy combo make. And there you go. I admit to have fallen prey to Internet Illiteracy.

But it goes further. In letter writing, you would write to those you would probably never see again; telephone - once in a blue moon; IM - well, people instant message people in the same damn house, or room even!

An article in the January 3rd NY Times says that instant messaging has the ability to bring family members, living under a common roof, together through virtual communication.

And now, as families own more than one computer, the machines spread beyond the den and home networks relying on wireless connections become increasingly popular, instant messaging is taking root within the home itself.

Although it might seem lazy or silly to send electronic messages instead of getting out of a chair and walking into the next room, some psychologists say the role of the technology within families can be positive. In many cases, they say, the messages are helping to break down the interpersonal barriers that often prevent open communication. (John Schwartz - Read it on ContraCostalTimes.com)

The article makes some points in its favor (like most articles do), but I still don’t buy it. Personal experience has shown me the badness of purely typed language.

Before 1998, I never had access to the Internet. And although I was shy and removed, I could still hold a conversation. Then I found IM and began using it more and more, admittedly even to people even in the next chair in the computer lounge. I’ve noticed now that I drift off in mid thought; I can’t look people in the eye anymore (not that I’d want too); I’ve grown distant in real life. It scares me.

Now, I’ve never actually verbalized “L-O-L,” but I have heard people use it in actual speech. It sent a shiver down my spine.

Are we that close to falling into another communication chasm? First it was the written word, then the bastardization of the spoken word. What next? A passing how-do-you-do without looking up from a mobile keypad and headset?

Maybe that’s why science is so eager to finish computer chip implants?

Think about it… Think about it out loud.

Phillip Hole - The Singing Gravedigger

A few years back I attended a small Renaissance Faire in Staten Island, New York. There wasn’t much there for a while. Then halfway through the day a man resembling Mick Fleetwood, brandishing a guitar, stepped onto a box and began drawing a crowd.

"My name is Philip Hole, sing tada…" he sang. And the audience sang "tada," too, as did I. "This is neat," I thought and proceeded to buy the CD.

The songs tell of the life and times of the son of the humble boy of fishmongers "Douglas and Martha Theresa (Doug and M.T.) Hole" from 1535 England (what else would you expect from a Renaissance Faire).

Done in a wandering minstrel style with some sea chanteys tossed in, The Singing Gravedigger is a fun album. Hole accompanies himself on a 12-string guitar while singing brilliant lyrics peppered with word play, puns and odd stories. Some songs are Hole’s own, while a few are timeless classics like "Old Rosin the Bow" and Tom Lehrer’s "Irish Ballad."

All lightheartedly walk on the darker side of life. "Father’s Grave" is about how they moved his father’s grave to build a sewer with dire results, and "Isn’t It Grand," proclaims: "And always remember the longer you live, the sooner you’ll bloody well die." Hangin’ Johnny recounts the life of the little pleasures of a town executioner. That’s just to name a handful.

Says Hole, "I prefer songs of death, love, death, the sea, death, drinking and death."

Phillip Hole not only tickles the funny bone, but also stirs up emotions and the imagination. Here, take listen for yourselves.

Samples from Phillip Hole, The Singing Gravedigger by Rick Nestler: (streamed at 16kbps)

Track 2 - Isn’t it Grand - 2:51
Track 3 - Father’s Grave - 1:52
Track 6 - I Wish They’d Do It Now - 2:48
Track 9 - Two Reasons - 1:51

Rick Nestler, a guitarist from up-state New York, plays the part of Phillip Hole. In searching for more information on Neslter I came across someclips of his other works. When not singing about graves, he sings about the sea in a Jimmy Buffet-eque style.

I’d say that’s versatility. 6 out of 6.

Mr. Nestler does not have a website yet, however you can email him at dnestler @ catskill (dot) net, or write with quill and ink for more information to:

What the Fortune?!

There are idiots in the world. I know; I’ve seen them; they’re often on Wheel of Fortune.

It was tonight’s edition where it happened that I lost faith in the human race- not that I had found it prior to tonight, but you get the point.

The category was “Song/Artist” - meaning that there would be the song title and the artist that made the song famous, i.e. a pop smash known around the world. First I’ll set up the situation, and then follow with the response. Ok? Here we go:

“Pat, I’d like to buy a… ‘U’.”

…
…
A “U?!” She bought a “U?!”

At first I thought she was just greedy and spinning to get more dough. “Ok,” I said, she’s in it for the cash. Then she bought the “I.” Now I’m thinking, as impossible as it seems, she doesn’t know the song or the band. That’s sad enough as it is. Then she went and bought the “U”.

OF COURSE THERE IS A U!! THERE CAN ONLY BE A U!! WHERE THERE IS A Q, A U WILL SOON FOLLOW!!!

It gets better; after she chose an “F” and got buzzed out the next moron bought the “O.” Was there any doubt? Is it possible it could have been “CHAMPIZNS” or “CHAMPILNS?”

The fact that “BY” was totally overlooked in a category marked “Song/Artist” just screams duh!

Now to add to the intelligence black hole forming… it was NFL week. You know, where pro football players “help” the contestants. You would think that one of them would know “We Are The [bloody fucking] Champions” by Queen! It’s only played over and over again at every major and minor sporting event in the world!

But no.

Your honor, I reserve the right to re-examine Wheel of Fortune at a later date.

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