Respect Authority

So I may or may not have been watching an NFL game on mute this Sunday afternoon - while simultaneously plowing through the first book in the Sookie Stackhouse vampire series that inspired True Blood (I’m undecided as to which of these realities is more embarrassing) - when I noticed some artistic camera work on the part of whatever sap was out filming football games in 20 degrees. If you’ve seen American Beauty, this’ll look familiar:

The most beautiful thing.

Not one to pass immediate judgment (I like to give a 7-minute window), I only chuckled to myself. But in the course of the game, cameramen felt compelled to show how windy it was three more times. And these are just the ones I noticed in between lurid vampire/human romance scenes.
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The more I watch this season of Top Chef, set in Manhattan, the more I continue to ponder three things: (1) Why does this show have to be on on Wednesday nights, when I am more often than not in the midst of a five-day detox from the food, drugs and alcohol of the weekend? (2) Why am I so unabashedly awful at cooking? And (3) Who the hell was in charge of casting?

Although I’ve remained loyal so far this season (something like a whopping four episodes) primarily because of the Big Apple scenery, I have to say the New York cast has quite a few real lookers that keep me coming back for more. 

1. A heroin addict.

2. A muppet

3. And most impressively, what might very well be a mentally disabled person.

Bravo may have long since moved on from its status as the go-to channel for the gay population, but don’t say they haven’t stuck with diversity.

Okay, so it wasn’t like I didn’t know The Beach was bad. Even though this movie came out in 2001, when Leonardo DiCaprio was at the veritable height of his career as a teenage heartthrob (not to be confused with his current career as an adult heartthrob), all anyone really knows about it now is that it’s bad. Things like the mildly ludicrous plot, or the highly ludicrous editing, were lost as conversation topics over the years, replaced with the more vague and easier-to-remember “The Beach? Man, that movie fucking sucked.”

But Sunday wasn’t exactly full of television options, and in a hungover daze on Saturday morning, I actually watched The Truth About Cats and Dogs, so I figured the bar was already set pretty low. Read More ›

Okay, I promised Aaron that I would limit my postings about reality television, and while I realize I’ve already somewhat circumvented those limitations by mentioning reality television in most of my other innocuous posts, I’d like to take this time to flat out ignore them.

I was, naturally, watching A Real Chance at Love yesterday evening, when I overhear the announcer saying the show is sponsored by Plan B emergency contraception. My ears perk up. Seriously? Like, the Plan B?! I mean, I know it’s sold over the counter — I’m very much in favor of it being available over the counter, but isn’t sponsorship kind of like advertising? Well indeed it is, because immediately after the sponsorship message there’s an actual advertisement for Plan B.

I realize that the commercial is meant to be part-advertisement, part-public service announcement, promoting awareness and all that, but if you see it — it’s kind of hard to find any real consequences for not using birth control. Most of the girls kind of make an “Aw, shucks” face when they wake up and then hop on over to the nearest pharmacy. Ironically, even though the pill’s slogan is “Because the unexpected happens,” the commercial overwhelmingly suggests that the “unexpected” is faulty birth control, evidenced by the fact that all of the girls wake up in their own beds. In any case, no harm no foul. By the end of the 30-second spot they’re enjoying a dinner out with their girlfriends.

Maybe I’m still too close-minded for my own good, but isn’t advertising Plan B kind of …weird? And isn’t advertising Plan B during a show about women competing for the attention of fifth-generation reality television stars both weird and eerily appropriate?

I don’t care what anyone says, I love this country.

Scary Voldemort taunting Harry Potter in his dreams, or Romantic Voldemort serenading a woman in hers? I think this could go either way.

I searched TiVo for 22 minutes of the debate in slow-motion to find this. It was worth every second. (Thank you Lou).

Whenever I get down on myself for watching what many would consider “trashy,” television, I’m reminded that so-called mainstream TV isn’t much better. I caught this little tidbit while watching the tail end of an episode of 60 Minutes this weekend, and for a brief second wondered what it must be like to be old, stupid, and convinced this program is a legitimate source of news or really any valuable information at all.

 Then I read a book.