Do I Smell Like Piss?

So the way the blog comment thing works is that I get e-mailed any comment made on the blog (which is great because it saves me from having to re-load the page hundreds of times throughout the day).

I was confused, however, when the following comment from an anonymous reader appeared in my inbox this afternoon: “because mens bathrooms smell of piss consistantly. i don't want to share in that.”

I immediately assumed that this was some sort of coded slam regarding my controversial Woody Allen post. Was the post somehow reminiscent of a piss-smelling bathroom? Was this some sort of blog spam thing that I just wasn’t getting?

Turns out it was just referencing a question I posed in an earlier (and long forgotten) post. But I was momentarily quite confused.

I Am SO Over Woody Allen

So I’ve always been a little bit reluctant about Mr. Allen. I mean, I like Annie Hall and Manhattan Murder Mystery and other films from decades ago. But none rate among my favorite films of all time. Not even close.

And obviously, the less said about most of the recent additions to his oeuvre, the better.

Even so, I was somewhat excited about Match Point. Lots of buzz! Potential Oscar nominations! Hot, hot, hot Scarlet Johansson!

Boy, am I disappointed.

Seriously. Someone needs to introduce the Wood-ster to a poor person. Just one. I mean, his idea of a bootstrap-picking-up outsider from humble beginnings is this dude who spends all of his spare time going to the opera, going to the ballet, and quoting Sophocles. Not one of his characters rings true except as a time-traveling transplant from a Victorian-era novel.

And let’s talk about subtlety. Let’s see… the plot of the movie involves [SPOILER] poor dude falling in love with rich girl’s money, poor dude affairing [new word] with HotScarJo, poor dude having to kill HotScarJo and her neighbor to keep rich girl’s money, and poor dude subsequently becoming wrought with guilt. I know! Let’s show poor dude reading Dostoyevsky at the beginning! That’ll be REAL subtle.

And also? Let’s establish that the theme of the movie is the importance of luck by having EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER deliver a lengthy monologue about… the importance of luck.

Ugh.

And I haven’t even mentioned the fact that the entire first half of the film was utterly interminable. Thank goodness there was one of those wonderful “House Full O’ Cats” episodes of Animal Cops on when I got home.

Blame Canada!

So I had my first discussion sections of the semester yesterday, and I did my usual thing where I ask the students to tell me either an international issue that interests them or a television show from which they derive guilty pleasure.

They all chose the latter (not that I can blame or judge them on that point).

And in the midst of all of the heartfelt defenses of Grey’s Anatomy, that Flava Flav show, and old-school Seinfeld (as well as one student [nerd] who “only watches Frontline”), came my Japanese foreign exchange student who is enamored with South Park.

“Why?”

“Because I like to better understand Americans and how they view people from Canada.”

Oh, how embarrassing for us. Because he was completely serious.

Next thing you know, America’s attitudes toward great literature will be assessed by an episode of Paris Hilton: True Hollywood Story.

Funny Squared, Nay Cubed

http://www.fametracker.com/fame_audit/infangelina.shtml

The above link is a HILARIOUS "Fame Audit" of Bragenlina's fetus. I laughed out loud several times. Here is an excerpt:

"We will need special goggles. No, the goggles won't protect us. We'll need artists, great artists, who'll sacrifice their eyes for one brief gaze upon the Brangelina infant (or, as we like to call it, the Infangelina), sketch its glory quickly, then spend their rest of their lives as blind babbling fools, jibbering in some monastery somewhere.

To which we can also say: Oh, TomKitten, your ass just got served."

The 24 Letdown

The season always starts so promising. New characters, both suspicious and crazy. Intense plotting punctuated by intense music. And then… episode five-ish hits and things begin to get immensely dull.

Why? Well, for starters, every episode becomes full to the brim with exposition. The idea is obviously to make things clear to any new viewers who finally get tired of boring sitcoms featuring fat guys with hot wives. However, the result is anviliciously clunky dialogue.

“Jack, is that the terrorist you captured fifteen minutes ago?”

”You mean the one that was trying to blow up the bunker with the big bomb?”

“Yes, that one.”

“Yes, Audrey, this is him – and I’m really glad that we managed to foil his plot to assassinate all of those important people.”

“You mean the plot we just talked about five minutes ago when finishing our discussion of our torrid love affair from two years ago?”

“Yes, that plot.”

You get the idea.

The other problem is that it doesn’t take long for the plot to get completely ridiculous. This season, for instance, we start with an airport hostage situation. Which is quickly resolved. Hoorah! However, we soon discover that the hostage situation was only a ruse to allow one of the bad dudes (who had been disguised as a hostage) to sneak some big nerve gas weapon out of the airport.

Huh?

This. Doesn’t. Make. Any. Sense. If your goal were to sneak a big nerve gas weapon out of an airport, would you START by creating an immense hostage situation? No, you would not.

The show is still good. But at this point I’m primarily watching for Jean Smart and Jean Smart alone. “I look like a wedding cake. Let’s start over.” HEE!

A Post in which Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Richard Hatch are Compared

Those of you who thought I was capable of only one post comparing the Alito hearings to Survivor were sorely mistaken.

In both cases, there remains an unresolved question regarding the proper basis for one’s final vote.

On the basis of alliances – be they buffed tribal alliances or sadly non-buffed party alliances?

On the basis of competence or gameplay – however these things are determined?

On the basis of ethical character?

On the basis of “you have to vote for someone, however repulsive that someone may be”?

On the basis of how much the votee sucks up to you?

Although I will certainly admit that one of these situations has substantially more import than the other, I think in both cases the answer is competence/gameplay. Maybe. If so, though, (a) Alito should be in and (b) Boston Rob was screwed.

Actually, perhaps it is because this question of the basis of the vote remains so undetermined that both confirmation hearings and final Survivor juries are so boring. In neither case is it quite clear what exactly the questioners are supposed to be doing.

Who Likes Frozen Eggs?

My refrigerator is once again an icebox.

To eat cereal last night, I had to scrape bits of icy milk into the bowl and let it melt until it became a sort of cold milk paste. Yum! I then chiseled some leftover tater tot hotdish from the pan and tried in vain to squeeze some overly gelatinous ketchup crystals from the bottle.

This is not the first time this has happened. So I called my landlord and left a lengthy message indicating that I had done on-line research and diagnosed the problem as a faulty thermostat. And that I would appreciate it if he would deal with this problem as soon as possible. I even managed what I thought to be an admirably haughty tone of voice.

Then I heard nothing.

By noon today, I had worked myself into a nice bit of righteous indignation. How dare he ignore me! My frozen milk must be dealt with! I had even prepared a lengthy diatribe indicating the depths of my frustration.

Then my landlord called.

From the hospital.

Having just had a heart attack.

And he called to apologize for not getting back to me sooner.

Now I feel terrible. The dude called appliance repair people from the hospital. FROM THE HOSPITAL. And I can’t even be angry about the fact that they won’t get to me until next week because of the whole heart attack/apologizing thing.

And I really hate it when a full head of righteous indignation fizzles out without being released. Just a warning. Best not to wrong me in the next few days – I have a lengthy diatribe all ready to go.

Alito Confirmation Hea… z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

It’s hard to imagine that these things were once riveting enough to completely capture public fancy. Because this thing is dull, dull, dull.

The “questions” seem to typically be of the Survivor finale variety. “Here’s why you suck/Here’s why you’re great. Do you agree?”

And the “responses” are monster varieties of say-nothing-ness. It’s all either “I can’t possible say anything about any issue at all because that issue might someday come before the court” or “Yes, I wrote/said this terrible thing a few years ago, but (a) I was just acting for a client, (b) I was just young, or (c) I would keep an open mind on the bench itself.” The nominee is so clearly trained to say as little as possible that the whole things becomes quite uninformative.

And then there’s Alito himself, who looks as bored as we are by the proceedings.

If only Sue Hawk were a senator, things might get a little interesting.

A Day at Steep & Brew

11:05 – I arrive at Steep & Brew to begin writing the final chapter of my dissertation. My first move, however, is to play Hearts on my computer and make an iTunes listening plan (today’s plan is to put iTunes on party shuffle and always listen to whatever song in the upcoming five I have listened to the fewest total times).

11:19 – Guy sitting behind me has fallen asleep in the largest way possible. There are throaty grunts and lots of accidental flailing of limbs. Eventually he gets up and stumbles (literally) out of the shop.

11:39 – I promise myself only one more game of Hearts until I start writing.

12:04 – Radically Unshowered Dude comes upstairs and fills his ENTIRE backpack with Steep & Brew napkins. He leaves but a handful of napkins in the receptacle. I briefly consider saying something to management but decide to play another game of Hearts instead.

12:22 – While waiting for the men’s restroom to open up, I ponder the question of why places have separate Men’s and Women’s restrooms when they are of the one-stall, lock-behind-you variety. Why not just Bathroom #1 and Bathroom #2?

12:40 – I curse my little baggie of snack baby carrots. Bleh. I also curse my unfortunate waffle binge of Friday night, necessitating the purchase of a yet another mega-bag of baby carrots.

12:52 – I am amused by this bit about the lead up to the 2003 Iraq invasion. “The most candid quote of the whole failed diplomatic effort came from Spain's normally reticent prime minister, Jose Maria Aznar, a crucial Bush ally, who broke precedent by complaining that in order to build a coalition, ‘we need a lot of Powell and not much of Rumsfeld.’” I need not much of Rumsfeld either.

1:04 – Several groups of potentially amusing people sit near me. I covertly turn off iTunes (while leaving my headphones in) so as to better note any moments of unintended hilarity.

1:14 – The groups of people disappoint. There is neither unintended nor intended hilarity. iTunes goes back on.

1:29 – Radically Unshowered Dude has been joined by an even more radically unshowered friend. The odor is beginning to waft.

2:39 – Woo! Finished the first page of the chapter. Must take Hearts break.

2:47 – Artist Lady with Many Scarves across the way is clearly sketching me in her little book. I take the opportunity to de-slouch.

3:59 – The hell? A pair of people has begun a series of recorder/accordion duets downstairs. Not the most pleasant of combinations.

4:09 – The duet of non-beauty has been joined by a fiddle. I choose this moment to make my exit. So long, Steep!

Plug of the Week: Video Dog

Have you been reading/watching Video Dog at Salon?

If not, you should be. The Video Dog scours television for ridiculousness and amusement so you don’t have to.

But for Video Dog I would not have witnessed the David Letterman/Bill O’Reilly smack down from earlier this week. HEE!

But for Video Dog I would not have seen the highly amusing promo for Pat Robertson’s new book on miracles. HEE!

But for Video Dog I would have missed precious scenes from the last episodes of Arrested Development (since I forgot to watch it when it was actually on). HEE!

A Day Without a Baldwin

Oh, dear. Given the events of the last 24 hours, my previous post seems particularly harsh. I was going to erase it, but in the 24 hours prior to the last 24 hours, I think my point was valid. So I’ll leave it up.

I have nothing else to report, as neither raccoons nor Baldwins were spotted today.

I’ll just give you a brief quote from Bob Woodward’s Plan of Attack (which I have been reading for dissertation reasons). Woody is writing about a pre-Iraq meeting between George W. and his senior staff.

“Feith displayed organization charts. It was a lot of abstract political science, and the President didn’t have much to say.”

Hee.

It’s Not That I Have Anything Against the Miners…

... but I’m just not sure this should have been an on-all-four-cable-news-networks-for-hours-on-end kind of story.

Abramoff? Alito? Natural gas in Russia? The War on Epiphany? No. Just Anderson Cooper in his weather-confronting outdoors-y jacket talking about the miners.

On the Relative Deliciousness of Baby Carrots

After ten straight days of eating nothing but cream, sugar, and butter in various combinations, I have forced myself into a diet consisting mainly of carrot sticks and frozen peas. A handful of unsalted peanuts officially counts as a treat.

Of course, it could be worse. I whiled away some time over the holidays reading old Little House/Town/Whatever on the Prairie books. I used to find this era and these books immensely charming and thought it would be a great lark to live in the Ingalls’ glorious simplicity.

Upon further reflection, not so much.

One Christmas, Laura and Mary were new-iPod-level-excited about receiving a single piece of candy in their stockings. The ever-wise (and ever-annoying) Mary chose to take but a single lick per day from her tiny piece of hard sugar. [I mock, but if only I had that much self-control, I would not now be eating entire meals of baby carrots.]

Another Christmas, there were to be no presents, but Laura and Mary were given the opportunity to make a button-string for Baby Carrie. Oh, how excited they were! A button-string! They made it for an entire week! And it is a string. With a bunch of old buttons attached. Sounds… riveting.

And then there’s that Long Winter Christmas, where to the best of my recollection the family spent several months simply weaving hay into bundles until their hands bled. And still they barely avoided freezing to death.

Yeah. Not so much for me, I guess. Turns out I’m a 21st-century kind of guy after all.

Almost as Scary as Unexpectedly Encountering a Baldwin

Two things today made me nearly leap out of my skin in fright.

The first occurred when I was walking down Dayton Street and reading a book. No, I didn’t trip over a curb or get side-swiped by a Buick. And no, I didn’t get frostbite on my ungloved reading hand.

Instead, a giant raccoon jumped out at me.

It hissed. I pondered exit procedures and fretted about the likelihood of Different Strokes-esque shots in the stomach.

I was moments away from throwing my gym shoes at it as a decoy when it squeezed itself into a nearby sewer drain thing (not the technical name). Disaster was averted.

The second fright-o-the-day was when I flipped through the cable news networks and saw Jesse Ventura. That alone is, of course, frightening. But this was a Jesse “The Body” Ventura who was sporting a bald head rimmed by very long, very stringy black hair and this bizarre goatee thing that involved two long braids linked together six inches below his chin. It was a sight.

And? Ventura is considering a presidential bid in 2008.

Please Pass the Quilt

For a New Years possessing the title of this post as its tagline, I had a surprisingly good time on Saturday night.

Yes, CT had ebola or something and GS had mono. And the bar we ended up in was far from the hippest locale in town. But old friends, amusing conversation, and good beer make for a splendid way to ring in another year.

My New Year’s Resolution will be to engage in more of all three.