Bill Maher And His Braindead Megaphone

I enjoy Bill Maher, host of HBO’s weekly roundtable, Real Time with Bill Maher.  Granted, I find his standup act magnificently unfunny.  But he’s an entertaining guy who (usually) has interesting things to say about the world.  His New Rules segment is often hilarious and his desire to bring together competing views for debate resonates with me.  Being a fellow atheist, I particularly enjoy his witty – and very fierce – takedowns of organized religion.  And I like the fact that he operates in fearless fashion, flying plenty close to the sun with his social commentary.  His political incorrectness makes him appear to exist outside of the media mainstream.  This is all very refreshing to me.

However, there are a number of things that have grown increasingly bothersome with Maher.  First is the guy’s breathtaking arrogance.  At first, I found this attribute charming.  After all, it’s almost a prerequisite for agent provocateurs, which is very much what Maher strives to be.  But watching him get annoyed at his audience for not laughing at his extremely unfunny jokes is annoying.  If you ever disagree with him, you’re not only wrong but you’re stupid.  And when his guests punch back at him, he clearly gets his feathers ruffled.  It’s never fun when someone can dish it out but not take it back.  Some self-effacement – or simple open-mindedness – would help immensely in Maher’s case.

Second is his intense partisanship.  For someone who strikes me as perfectly capable of independent thought, he toes the liberal line with the best of them.  In fact, I can’t think of a single issue where Maher deviates from the liberal playbook.  Given his feistiness, it would be fun to watch him disagree with his own party from time to time.  And I’m pretty sure it would add to his legitimacy as a commentator.  Instead, the guy is a walking billboard for all causes liberal.

This is loosely related to my third gripe, which is that I lose significant love for the man when he takes on the financial topics of the day.  Not only does he tend to speak with authority on topics about which he clearly knows very little (more on that later), but he exhibits a degree of hypocrisy that unfortunately has come to characterize much of Hollywood.  That is, Maher spends a fair amount of time on his show demeaning wealth accumulation and lamenting the inequality that exists today.  This most often involves wholesale bashing of everything tied to Wall Street as well as the obligatory complaint about how CEOs make multiples more than their average employees.  In Maher’s case, this is coming from a single man with a net worth of $15-$25 million (per various Google estimates) who lives in a 6,000 square foot home in a 2.5-acre Beverly Hills compound.  (I’d love to know what he makes relative to an HBO stagehand and whether he thinks that multiple is justified.)  Ever the environmentalist, his financial hypocrisy is compounded by the fact that he owns two cars and – at least occasionally – flies private (as Ann Coulter cleverly pointed out on one of his shows).

As many liberals who haven’t made their fortunes in finance do, Maher implicitly draws a distinction between well-earned riches and ill-earned ones.  Apparently, by their calculus, it’s perfectly cool for actors and comedians to make millions of dollars.  It might also be OK if you make computers.  Or are a politician.  But if you work in finance and happen to have made a lot of money doing it, you are immediately assumed less worthy of your money.  In their world, some types of income are better earned than others.  Apparently, robbing disappointed moviegoers of $20+ (or $50+ in the case of Maher’s standup) and hours of their time in the quest of padding their own pockets is totally legit.  But going to business school and becoming well-versed in the vagaries of corporate finance is not.

Maybe it’s cool in an aloof kind of way to willfully embrace their cognitive dissonance.  Or maybe there’s an insecurity that belies their apparent doublethink, something Drew Carey once summed up nicely:

Hollywood people are filled with guilt: white guilt, liberal guilt, money guilt. They feel bad that they’re so rich, they feel they don’t work that much for all that money – and they don’t, for the amount of money they make.

Which brings me to the crux of my post.  During his New Rules conclusion last week, Maher decided to take sanctimonious aim at Mitt Romney.  As can be seen in the above clip, Maher attempted to take Romney to task for his moneymaking past at Bain Capital.  Specifically, he seemed most concerned with how Romney made his money rather than the fact that he made any at all.  Maher led off the diatribe with the following:

You know, venture capitalists are not creators.  They’re businessmen who find weak companies and prey on them.

What Maher – and his staff of writers – did in this segment was demonstrate an ignorance of basic finance.  It’s not just worrisome that Maher apparently gets paid to spread untruths.  It’s also dangerous because I’m guessing that many in his audience (which must number in the millions) took his statement as gospel and repeated it to their friends and coworkers, creating an echo chamber that spouts ignorance on the topic of venture capitalism.

By the way, I was already annoyed before we got to this point in his show.  Previously in his New Rules segment, Maher featured Apple, Ford, and Disney as examples of companies started by people who created products, “something they made besides money”.  This, according to Maher, stood in stark contrast to Romney and his Bain colleagues, whose professional goals in life are to perform the economic equivalent of rape and pillage.  Let’s ignore the fact that Maher, as a comedian, also doesn’t make anything tangible for a living – and that 99.9% of all entrepreneurs are in the game to make money (Jobs, Ford, and Disney included) – and focus instead on the fundamental misunderstanding of venture capitalism that Maher displayed.

His first mistake was a knee-jerk one that many liberal pundits commit, which is to automatically assume that private equity is the manifestation of economic evil.  In reality, private equity (broadly-defined) plays a critical role in capitalism.  Not being an expert on the topic, I’ll defer instead to someone who is for a better explanation of private equity’s role.  Below is a quote from Jonathan Macey, professor of corporate finance at Yale Law School, from a recent WSJ OpEd in which he lamented the attacks on private equity in the Republican primaries:

This is anticapitalist claptrap. Private-equity firms make significant investments in companies, mainly U.S. companies. Most of their investments are in companies that underperform industry peers. Frequently these firms are on the brink of failure. Because private-equity firms are, by definition, equity investors, they make money only if they improve the performance of their companies. Private equity is last in line to be paid in case of insolvency. Private-equity firms don’t make a profit unless their companies can meet their obligations to workers and other creditors. The companies in which private-equity investors are able to turn a profit generally grow, rather than shrink. This is because the preferred “exit strategy” by which private-equity firms profit is to take the private companies in which they invest and enable them to go public and sell shares that will help the company grow even stronger. As for turnaround success stories, Continental Airlines, Orbitz and Snapple have all benefitted at some time from private-equity investment.

Maher’s second mistake lay in his failure to understand what it means to be a venture capitalist.  By labeling Romney and his colleagues as venture capitalists, Maher conflated venture capitalism with private equity writ large.  In reality, venture capitalism is a subset of private equity in the same way that a journalist belongs to the broader category of “writer”.  Included under the umbrella of private equity are several strategies, including leveraged buyouts (“LBOs”), distressed investing, growth (or acceleration) capital, and venture capital. To give Maher and his liberal peers the benefit of the doubt, we can assume that the private equity practice they disdain is the much-maligned LBO.  Among other things, the practice involves using a company’s assets as collateral to borrow large sums of money in order to effect a buyout.  Once in control, private equity firms generally seek to improve the financial performance of the acquired company, which often includes significant restructuring as companies rationalize their business models.  This can involve the shutdown of entire business units and the loss of jobs.  Some might call this callous and unfair.  Others might say such creative destruction forces companies to adapt or die in the face of escalating competition, leaving those left standing much better suited for survival.  Whatever the case, automatically assuming that all such transactions are bad for society is intellectually lazy.  LBOs can have outcomes both good (Harley-Davidson, Viacom) and bad (Regal Cinemas, Federated Department Stores).  And, sadly, it does allow room for certain financial reengineering that can lead to ill-gotten gains for some.  But the practice plays a necessary role in capitalism.  If it didn’t, it wouldn’t exist, for capitalism is among the most lethal and efficient self-correcting forces on the planet.

But let’s chat more about what it is that venture capitalism actually does.  In a nutshell, it provides young, cash-strapped companies with the funding needed to realize their visions.  So while they might not create anything tangible per se, venture capitalists most certainly provide the funding needed for companies to go out and make things.  Say, for example, a young programming whizkid (we’ll call him Mark) comes up with an idea to revolutionize social networking and needs money to support his new website.  Mark might go to a venture capital firm, someone like Accel Partners, and pitch his idea with the hope that it likes what he has to say and is willing to back him.  Maybe Accel gives the young Mark $12 million to make his dream a reality in exchange for an equity stake in his venture.  And maybe, seven years later, his idea becomes a $100 billion IPO that sees both Mark and Accel grow fabulously rich.  That, my friends, is the most successful venture capital story ever told.

Funnily enough, some of Maher’s own examples help refute his argument.  In its early days, Apple benefited greatly from the funding provided by venture capital firm Sequoia Capital (whose credits also include companies like Google,  Electronic Arts, Funny or Die, LinkedIn, and YouTube, to name a few).  Walt Disney was able to cobble together enough friends and family money to form the company that would go on to bring us Mickey Mouse and Snow White.  While Disney didn’t benefit directly from venture capitalism in its early days, the company did come to appreciate the beneficence of the practice since it now has its own venture capital unit, Steamboat Ventures.  Henry Ford didn’t rely on formal venture capital in founding Ford Motor Compnay, but he did succeed with the help of a handful of “angel investors” who provided him with the necessary capital to build his Model T.  (Note: Angel investors are basically venture capitalists who operate in more independent fashion on a smaller and less formal basis).

You see, venture capitalism is just one example of how Wall Street performs a crucial role in our society.  Sure, there are terrible misdeeds and injustices that occur, as with any industry.  But there isn’t a more effective form of capital formation and allocation on the planet.

For someone so enamored with reason in his vehement anti-religiosity, Maher can be maddeningly unreasonable when it comes to all matters economic.  I can understand why you get that with the likes of MSNBC, a company that, as a matter of existential necessity, chose to follow Fox News down the rabbit hole of overt bias.  But I’ve come to expect better from Maher, so consider me disappointed.

By the way, it’s worth noting that, while at Bain Capital, Mitt Romney was involved not just in straight LBO deals but also venture and growth capital ones, including with companies like Staples and Domino’s Pizza.

Slice Of Awesome: Arrested Development Edition

Great news from The New Yorker festival this weekend regarding the best sitcom of all time.  It sounds like a movie is indeed in the works, which will be preceded by ten brand new television episodes.  It appears there may in fact be a god.

From a Jason Bateman tweet:

It’s true. We will do 10 episodes and the movie. Probably shoot them all together next summer for a release in early ’13. VERY excited!

h/t Justin for the scoop.

On The Grinds Of Travel And The Delights Of Home

Having spent the better part of three weeks on the road (in London, Hong Kong, and Singapore), I returned yesterday to the delights of home.  My journey home from Singapore followed a great Friday night out with friends that included dinner at Luke’s Oyster Bar and Chop House and drinks at some bar on Club Street whose primary differentiating feature was a wall full of random mix tapes.  After toying with the notion of playing through until my 4 AM departure for the airport, I decided instead to head back to the hotel for a power nap at around 1 AM.  I awoke at 3:30 AM to groggily begin my 20+ hour journey home.

After being asked to show my boarding pass on (literally) six different occasions while making my way to the gate at Changi, our United 747 pushed back at 6 AM and we were touching down in Hong Kong for our connection to Chicago about 3.5 hours of interrupted sleep later (being seated next to the galley is the kiss of death for the road-weary traveler).  Our layover was theoretically scheduled for a very manageable two hours.  However, once we boarded, we found ourselves sitting at the gate well past our scheduled push-back time.  Turns out the flight was being held up for a connecting passenger.  I can understand why this should happen (putting myself in the shoes of that wayward traveler); however, as our delay worked on the one-hour mark, I became rather perturbed.  If we were waiting for a group of travelers, that’s one thing.  But the announcements made it sound like we were being held up for just one person.  I looked it up and this particular flight (on a Boeing 747-400) had a seating capacity of 374.  And since this was a sold out flight, 373 eager passengers – many of whom were due to connect to myriad flights of their own upon reaching Chicago – were being held up by just one individual.  I’m not sure how these decisions are made by the airlines – and I appreciate the difficulty of managing such complex systems – but this particular practice could surely use a revisit.  Especially since the passenger in question never even arrived, causing our flight to be further delayed as the person’s bags were removed!

Once airborne, I used the 14.5 hour flight to take in a movie (the predictably mediocre Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides), sleep intermittently for about eight hours (this flight was an especially bumpy one), read Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (which provided motivation for my upcoming marathon as well as fuel my dreams of becoming a writer someday), and watch a couple episodes of MTV’s Challenge: Rivals (one of the greatest reality franchises around).  I finally arrived in Chicago around 3 PM on Saturday and was greeted by my two ladies who happily drove me home with the moonroof open on a gorgeous Fall day.  Once home, I flirted with the idea of a run only to succumb to the comforts of the man cave, where I happily took in a much-need Irish victory over Michigan State.  I then caught up on Curb Your Enthusiasm (this season is superb) before drifting off to sleep to the sounds of the Florida State-Oklahoma game.  Bliss.

I awoke this morning around 6 AM to the beeping of our carbon monoxide alarm (no worries, just a unit error), which was fine since I’m jet-lagged anyway.  I relaxed with a coffee, bagel, the news, and Sportscenter before nailing a 13-miler at a 7 minute 37 second per mile clip.  These past few weeks have surely set my training back.  But the clip on this morning’s run was my second-best and I felt pretty good doing it, so I have no idea what to make of anything when it comes to all this training stuff.

I just watched Manchester United lay waste to Chelsea (thanks in large part to some monumental brain farts by Fernando Torres).  And now I’ll saddle up with a collection of newspapers and magazines that have piled up in my absence while watching the Bears game.  Following that, I’ll saunter on down to the Houndstooth Saloon, which is a mere two blocks away and just so happens to be a Dallas Cowboys bar.  While I typically don’t advocate day-drinking or drinking on Sundays, I will make an exception today because it just feels like the right thing to do.  Ah, the delights of being home!

The Next People

I was happy to learn today that one of my favorite writers, Salman Rushdie, has hooked up with Showtime for a new science fiction series called The Next People.  Rushdie’s motivation for making the switch in media is a belief that the format of the hour-long drama is now the best form of storytelling (surpassing movies and novels).  The show “will deal with the fast pace of change in modern life, covering the areas of politics, religion, science, technology and sexuality.”  I’ve got visions of Battlestar Galactica dancing in my head, which has me giddy with excitement.  For those who don’t know, Battlestar is one of the greatest television shows of all time.  Now you know.

The Dalai Lama Walks Into A Pizza Shop

I rather enjoyed this bit of Aussie tomfoolery:

Conan O’Brien’s Commencement Address at Dartmouth

Though I’m still a bit perturbed by the immaturity and lack of professionalism he displayed while leaving NBC, I can’t help but appreciate the brilliant wit of Conan O’Brien.  Lucky for us, he decided to provide a sequel to his 2000 Harvard commencement speech by imparting some wisdom to this year’s graduating class at Dartmouth.  As expected, there is plenty to see here, folks (“I’m here to tell you that, though you should not fear failure, you should do your very best to avoid it”).

Let’s Go Mavs! And Mormons!

Having just returned from a three-week tour of Asia, one of the things I’m most excited about is having a chance to watch my hometown Dallas Mavericks take on the Miami Heat in Game 6 of the NBA Finals.  Up 3-2 in the best of seven series, the Mavs are one game away from not only securing the first championship in team history but also from putting a finger in the eye of the Heat’s big three (Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh, and LeBron James).  Anyone who isn’t a sociopath and doesn’t hail from Miami knows why Dallas should (in a normative sense) win this series.  But for those who are a bit slow on the uptake and still need help deciding, ESPN’s Rick Reilly has kindly listed 20 reasons why everyone beyond Miami’s city limits should be pulling for Dallas.  All good reasons, of course, though I quite enjoyed the retort of Miami-based humorist Dave Barry, whose reasons to cheer for the Heat (jokingly) included the “fact” that Dirk Nowitzki pronounces his name wrong.

At the end of the day, this Dallas team is largely comprised of good guys who are due for some love from the basketball gods.  The world would simply be a better place if the likes of Jason Kidd, Tyson Chandler, and Dirk Nowitzki won a ring.  Especially if that achievement came at the expense of a talented but narcissistic Miami Heat squad whose diving antics make me wonder if Cristiano Ronaldo has been hired to lend some of his expertise.  Like Kidd, I really hope the Mavs pull this one off for Nowitzki, who is nearing the end of his run as one of the most unguardable players in NBA history and who comes off as a decent human being.  Plus, if he gets his ring and the inevitable Finals MVP that would come with it, he would overtake Dirk Diggler (of Boogie Nights fame) as the first association with one of the cooler names around.

Naturally, this Mavs squad isn’t without its annoying and/or questionable characters.  For example, DeShawn Stevenson has a lame trademark move where mimics the “OK” sign over his eye each time he drains a three.  And he has over 100 tattoos, one of which is (strangely) a backward Pittsburgh Pirates logo on his right cheek.  (Now, the Yankees I could understand.  But the Pirates?!?).  Then there’s Juan Jose Barea, who is the type of player that annoys everyone who isn’t a member or fan of his team (something a quick call to Andrew Bynum would confirm).  Such enmity is exacerbated by the fact that the lucky bastard is dating Miss Universe 2006.  And who could forget the gargantuan ego that is Mark Cuban, who is to sports team owners what Donald Trump is to real estate developers (though his silence during this year’s playoffs has been a welcome break from his usual routine).  But the most unlikable character in my mind is Jason Terry.  Maybe it’s the headband or that stupid jet move he loves to do when he’s on a roll.  Or maybe it’s his over-the-top willingness to give credit to god during his postgame interviews…or that fact that he lists Martin Lawrence as his favorite actor.  Whatever it is, I’ve never really cared for the guy.  He’s a toned-down version of what Michael Irvin represented for me back in the heyday of the Cowboys:  I never liked the Cowboys wide receiver but that didn’t stop me rooting for him while he was helping my team win.  Hypocritical, perhaps.  But as long as these characters aren’t breaking the law, I’m comfortable with such moral ambiguity when it comes to supporting my teams.  So come 7 PM this evening, I will be found happily watching and hoping from the comfort of my couch, greeting each Terry three-pointer with the same cheer that accompanies one of Dirk’s patented fadeaways.  And though I promised myself that I would undergo a bit of a cleanse following two weeks of pure decadence, I’m pretty sure I’ll help myself to a Miller Lite or three.

A Mavericks victory tonight would be made sweeter by a good showing for the Book of Mormon at the Tony Awards, which airs at the same time as the game.  Such programming logistics may force me to do the unthinkable for any self-respecting sports fan, which is surf between one of his team’s biggest games ever and an awards show for Broadway musicals.  This may strike most as counterintuitive but anyone who has seen the show and knew that the supremely talented Andrew Rannells would be performing “I Believe” will understand my dilemma.  At the very least, I highly encourage those who like stuff to DVR the awards show during the game so you can go back and catch a rare glimpse of the best Broadway musical of all time.

All About The Moments

We’ve been treated to another guest post from Ms. Lizzi Sue:

Ali and I were incredibly lucky today. We got to sit on either side of our mom while she got to see her all-time favorite, Diana Ross, at the Oprah Show. For those of you who don’tknow, Deb is a HUGE Diana fan. She played nothing but Diana when we were kids and even introduced us to the concert experience at a Diana Ross show. As girls, we had plenty of dance parties in the living room and the majority involved something about mountains not being high enough and stopping in the name of love.

Anyway, Deb is a woman who doesn’t care about anything flashy or fancy. Her favorite meal is broiled chicken made in her own oven. Expensive jewelry makes her nervous.What my mom loves more than anything is dancing, Diana Ross, and her family, arguably in that order.

When she first got the call that Ms. Ross was going to be on Oprah and she and her daughters were going to be in the audience, she was speechless. Literally. When I called her to find out what the weird voice mail was all about, the call went a little something like this:

Mom: “Oh my god, you didn’t answer your phone. I’m having a heart attack. I can’t breathe. You need to take Monday off. You…you…you…you can’t work on Monday. She’s here Ali.”
Me: “Mom, it’s Lizzi”.
Mom: (all said through tears)“Liz, Ali, I…I…I can’t breathe. Whoever you are, SHE’S HERE! She’s here and we’re going to see her. We’re going to be in the same room as her! She’s going to be on stage! WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO WEAR?!? I need to sit down. I’m dying! Oh My God.”
Me: (all said through a huge smile/laughter) “Mom, breathe. Who’s here? What’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Mom: “Diana Ross is going to be at Oprah and WE ARE GOING!!!! ME AND YOU AND ALI ARE GOING TO SEE DIANA ROSS AT OPRAH!”

The rest of the call was all about reminding Deb to inhale and exhale (good thing I have all that yoga training!). I found out that two of her incredible customers are producers at the Oprah show and Deb had always begged them that if Diana was ever to come on Oprah, to please remember how much she loved her. Well, they remembered. Not only did they remember, they gave her three tickets so Deb could share the moment with her kids.

The past few weeks have been all about Diana Ross. What to wear, what she might sing,what time we should get there…
And today was the big day. Mom showed up at my house at 8 AM with a suitcase of clothes since, of course, she needed options. We chose the perfect ensemble and were on our way. The whole affair was a “hurry up and wait one” but her level of excitement never wavered.  First we stood in a line to get to the waiting room. She was excited. Then we were in the waiting room and signed waivers…and waited. She was still excited. The room filled up with ladies in sequins, boas, and smiles. And now everyone was excited.

It was finally time to start filling the studio. Special groups were called first. A few groups of women went ahead as we all waited anxiously. And we heard, “Debbie Morris, party of three, come this way, please.” We were IN!!!!! The amazing producer was seating everyone and gave us SECOND ROW seats!

As the production team was gearing everyone up for this incredible show, they singled out Deb and asked her what this show and seeing Diana meant to her. It was Mom’sbig chance to shine and she held it together amazingly. She spoke about how Diana has always been so beautiful, always singing her favorite songs, and now she is sharing it with her two daughters and nothing could ever be better.

It was a moment. Ali and I were crying. To see our mom SO genuinely happy, happy to her bones, was a gift.
Like all moms, Deb sacrificed a lot for Ali and me. Every time holidays or birthdays came around, we always looked at each other with blank stares about what to buy her since, after all, she doesn’t care about “things”. Like I said earlier, not much moves her needle! Our mom has worked her butt off sitting on the floor selling shoes in order to give us great lives. She is the ultimate salesperson who genuinely she loves her job and if anyone deserves a day with Diana, it’s this woman!!!

When Diana Ross came out onto Oprah’s stage, my 58 year-old mother jumped up and down and started screaming the way we did when we saw New Kids On The Block at ages 9 and 11. FULL ON SCREAMING AND JUMPING. It was raw emotion. It was shear joy. It was a moment I hope to never ever forget.

Diana was nothing short of spectacular. She was beautiful and gracious and grounded. The show was great. She sang “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and I must say, it was spectacular (especially from the second row!!!).
Of course, the whole day wasn’t about Diana Ross or a song. It was about fulfilling adream for my mom and creating a very special memory.

And Oprah gave us a Samsung Galaxy tablet (which Matt has already kidnapped!).  All in all, it was a great day. Very happy I was back on this side of the world and able to be there.

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Today’s Lesson In Cognitive Dissonance

One of my recent posts expressed some curiosity at the notion that Kathy Griffin was invited onto Larry King Live to discuss the dangers of bullying.  My confusion derived from the fact that Griffin is a comedian who makes a rather notorious living making fun of – same may call it bullying – other people.

Well, the little red rocket is at it again, this time making fun of Bristol Palin’s weight by referring to her as the “white Precious“.  This, ladies and germs, is a wonderful example of hypocrisy.  Griffin’s mastery of doublethink would’ve made Orwell proud.  But to those of us paying attention, it just makes her look petty and disingenuous.

By the way, this marks the second straight post where I came to the defense of Bristol Palin.  Some might say this provides evidence that Eddyfication is a bastion of independent thought.  Either that or I tend to develop subconscious crushes on people named after the hometown of my beloved ESPN.

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Late Night Boob Tube

While searching for Conan yesterday, I accidentally happened upon George Lopez’s horrifically unfunny and awkward fluff hour on TBS.  My disappointment was compounded when I found Lopez interviewing none other than the immensely untalented and uninteresting David Arquette.  I spent the next 1.5 minutes trying to imagine a more powerful pairing of comic mediocrity and annoyance.  The only possible rival I could imagine was if Dane Cook were to visit Jay Leno.

Speaking of Conan, I’m very happy that he’s back on the air.  In my view, the man is the shining light of late night and a true comedic genius, as witty and creative as they come.  Not only is his show great but his brain farts are also brilliant, evidenced by the chuckles Lizzi and I got when we took a peek at his Twitter the other night.  However, I’m still perturbed by how he left NBC.  If you ask me, everyone’s favorite redhead demonstrated a shocking lack of class when he was asked to exit stage left.  I would’ve much preferred that he have taken the high road and just moved on, making success in his next gig revenge enough.  Instead, he let his ego get the better of him and decided to drag his viewing audience through the mud of his messy divorce.  It was the adult equivalent of watching a child throw a tantrum in a Toys-R-Us aisle.  In our case, that child had his own talk show with a multi-million dollar budget to waste on extravagant “F-You’s” to the boss while a large viewing audience (oddly) cheered him on.  I can imagine the sting that must come with being passed over in favor of the less-likable Jay Leno.  But dude, you didn’t deliver and you got fired.  Take it like a man and move on.

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Dear Steven Weber: What Is A Gerund?

In addition to being a part-time actor, Steven Weber is also an occasional blogger.  His ruminations can often be found over at the Huffington Post, which allows all manner of entertainers and other non-technical practitioners to wax philosophical on heavy topics like economics, politics, and the naturalness of John Boehner’s pigmentation.

Besides conforming nicely (and aggressively) to the Hollywood liberal tag, I’ve noticed that Weber’s postings serve as great examples of someone trying way too hard to sound smart.  Now, I’m sure Weber is indeed plenty smart.  But a clear, effective writer he is not.  And I detect more than a touch of insecurity in his meandering prose, where run-on sentences punctuated with big, smart words and feigned humility seem par for the course.  As evidence, I invite you to read Weber’s latest post, which is entitled Lords of the New Church.  In addition to not understanding how the title ties to the content, I am totally confused as to what he’s trying to say.

Here’s a little taste:

Because what the right has figured out is that they can literally rewrite reality as it fits their newly effectuated agenda. Using every traditional sociopolitical and/or cultural opportunity as a canary in a coal mine of their breakthrough design, they are seeing firsthand the efficacy of practical, empirical analysis born of the formerly terrifying exploration of new ideas.

And the rest of us can only gaze in stupefaction as they outstrip all that has defined civic discourse for millennia (or at least in the 200-plus years of our national zeitgeist) with sheer — I don’t know — cheekiness? Anarchy? Balls?

Because we — that is, the rest of us who continue to base their lives on tried-and-true ideas and ideals culled from the sometimes painful, often magnificent fundamentals wrought from the countless lives and events that precede every moment up to and including the present one, are using tools that have become instantaneously obsolete. We might as well be lecturing the “LOL-OMFG” generation on the beauty and expressive depth of cursive penmanship and the deceptive poetry of the gerund (granted, I may be pushing that last notion. I have to keep looking up “gerund” myself. In fact, please don’t ask me what it means after you finish this).

Anyone who can read his entire post and explain to me what the fuck he’s talking about will win a free lifetime subscription to Eddyfication.

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Awkward News Opening

Man I love stuff like this.

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Musings On A Halloween Sunday

I started my day today in typical Sunday fashion – with a swift kick in the nuts (otherwise known as the Irish game).  After the whuppin’ suffered at the hands of the Midshipmen last week, the Irish decided to lay down again yesterday, this time at home against Tulsa.  One can be forgiven for assuming the Irish would destroy an opponent such as the Golden Hurricane – named as such because Tulsa has lots of hurricanes(?) and…er…gold(?) – but that was before god decided to smite Irish football.  Sandwiched between these past two losses was the tragic death of an ND student who died when the scissor stand he was using to film practice collapsed amid gale force winds.  Coach Brian Kelly assumed responsibility for the call to have practice outdoors that day, so we can add that horrific determination to the long list of terrible strategic decisions he’s made throughout the season.  Of course, as Barney Frank and Isaiah Thomas have taught us, strong decision-making skills aren’t prerequisites for job security, so I’m sure Coach Kelly will be just fine.  In the meantime, we’ll have to consult Pat Robertson to see why god hates his favorite university so much.  I’m guessing it has something to do with allowing gays to serve in the military, as I’m sure he really hates that.  But if that were indeed the case, wouldn’t he have wanted ND to beat Navy last week?  So maybe he’s just pissed about the enduring popularity of Jersey Shore, or the fact that the iPad doesn’t support Adobe Flash.  Either way, it’s clear he’s got it out for the Irish.  And he’s definitely not making time for all those prayers being sent his way from the grotto each week.

I decided that the Irish loss would be best forgotten with a run around the palace, where it turns out a special Halloween race was underway.  Unfortunately, the most outrageous outfit I could find was someone running with a massive sombrero and wearing hot pink tights.  I blended in nicely with my own costume, that of a pasty expat sponsored by Nike.  As I ran, I pondered some of the more interesting developments of late, including: how Mohammed is now the most popular name for newborn baby boys in England; how China now has the world’s fastest computer; and how Charlie Sheen’s compulsive whore-mongering and myriad drug-inspired arrests can be considered nothing short of impressive so long as he keeps his day job on Two and A Half Men.

Lizzi and I attended a wine dinner at a nice French restaurant in Tokyo Midtown the other night.  The event featured pre-phylloxera vines, which means they pre-date the attack of those pesky little bugs that wrought destruction over pretty much every single European vineyard in the early 1860s.  It was a delicious and educational night.  Amid all the smart wine talk, I was a bit preoccupied with knowing why – from an evolutionary perspective – the voracious louse found it necessary to insert venom into the vines as they fed from them, thus destroying their source of food.  But judging by the blank stares my inquiry received, I’m guessing this isn’t the type of stuff one is supposed to discuss at such events.  My misstep was compounded by some rather poor form when we made our exit.  As we politely bid everyone adieu, I felt compelled to tell someone whom I had just met – a culinary bigwig from Chicago, no less – to “be good”.  I have no idea why I said this.  And I have no idea why I said it again during our second round of goodbyes.  Something’s clearly wrong with me.  Here’s hoping he just assumed that I had a mild case of Tourette’s.

As I write this, the horribly hokey Mike Huckabee Show is playing in the background.  The camera just panned to the show’s sparsely populated studio audience, which can’t be any greater than thirty people.  I wonder what series of poor decisions would lead someone to be a member of that audience.  I fully expect to see Todd Margaret sitting there someday.

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The Economics Of Seinfeld

Combining one of the greatest sitcoms of all time with the dismal science is pure gold (“That’s gold, Jerry, gold!“).  If you don’t believe me, check out yadayadayadaecon.com, where the economically-inclined and Seinfeld-savvy could easily waste an hour perusing the various economic principles underlying many of the show’s episodes.  Below are a couple examples to whet your appetite.

On collusion and cartels, from The Foundation episode in Season 8:

Kramer brags to Jerry that he’s taken up Karate and is dominating his dojo. Jerry discovers that Kramer is in a class of 6-year-old children. Kramer beats up on all of the kids, but at the end of the episode they decide to stop competing with one another and band together to form a force capable of dominating Kramer.

On barriers to entry and monopoly power, from The Soup Nazi episode in Season 7:

The Soup Nazi makes delicious soup—so good there’s always a line outside his shop. He refuses service to Elaine, and by a stroke of luck she comes across his stash of soup recipes. She visits his shop and informs him that his soup monopoly is broken, while waving his recipes in his face. Also in this clip, George gets charged $2 for a roll that everyone else gets for free. This example of price discrimination shows that in order to charge different customers different prices, you must have market power.

On opportunity cost, scarcity, and trade-offs, from The Sponge episode in Season 7:

Elaine’s birth control sponge has been pulled off the market, and she’s carefully hoarding her stash. So is the man she’s dating “spongeworthy?” If she uses a sponge for him, she won’t have it if a better opportunity comes along.

On complements and substitutes, from The Switch episode in Season 6:

Jerry is dating a girl but really wants to date her roommate. George suggests that the only way to make the switch is to propose a menage a trois to his current girlfriend, which will turn her off and her roommate on. Jerry follows through on George’s plan, and finds that both girls are “into it.” But Jerry can’t follow through—and George can’t believe it. To Jerry, the roommates are substitutes; to George, they are complements.

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Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

The latest plea for fiscal responsibility from the Citizens Against Government Waste.  Creative and effective, I must say.

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On Harlem Charter Schools, Vanishing Typhoons, and Other Incongruities

Having just returned from another whirlwind trip to Singapore and Hong Kong, I’m now happily ensconced back in Tokyo.  Of course, Typhoon Megi could’ve spoiled that, but what was threatening to be a canceled flight turned out to be the smoothest Hong Kong-Tokyo leg I’ve ever had.  Now back in my blogging lair, I can catch up on a few things that caught my eye over the past week or so.

On Larry King Live the other night was a show dedicated to the issue of gay bullying and what we can do to minimize its occurrence and effects.  A good cause, to be sure, but I was a bit confused by the show’s participants.  Lance Bass, Tim Gunn, and Nate Berkus?  They made sense.  Wanda Sykes and Kathy Griffin?  Not so much.  I don’t intend to pass judgment on their own experiences with being bullied, and I certainly applaud their support of an issue in great need of it.  However, it struck me as odd how two comedians whose job is largely comprised of ripping on others – sometimes, in less than tasteful ways – are invited on a show to describe how hurtful bullying can be.  Huh?

I read an article somewhere along the way that talked about how school districts are having to lay off hundreds of thousands of teachers because of their states’ massive fiscal challenges.  It reminded me of a commencement speech President Obama gave at Wesleyan in 2008, which basically served as an advertisement for public service.  In it, he admonished the idea of selfishly pursuing personal ends on Wall Street and urged everyone to instead do things for the good of the collective, like teach.  Quoting:

…we need an army of you to become teachers and principals in schools that this nation cannot afford to give up on. I will pay our educators what they deserve, and give them more support…

Meanwhile, Wall Street has been on a hiring binge for most of this year.  And the more money Wall Street makes, the more taxes it pays.  And the more people it hires, the more taxes they pay.  Among other things, those taxes are used to pay for our schools (most of them, at least).  Plus, those lucky enough to be highly successful in pursuing “selfish” ends very often supplement their forced donations to state and federal treasuries with personal charitable contributions targeted specifically at improving education in our country.  It goes without saying that teaching is one of the most honorable and important professions around.  But I find it interesting how many liberals – particularly those in leadership today – spend so much time demeaning the very success that makes funding of our public services possible in the first place.  I’m just sayin’…

Speaking of the horrendous state of American education, I watched a documentary called The Lottery on the flight yesterday.  Superbly done, it chronicles the experience of four Harlem families desperate to secure spots for their children in one of the city’s charter school lotteries.  This was a heartbreaking and illuminating film on multiple levels.  When it came to the kids, I wanted to jump through the screen and wrestle their roadblocks to the ground.  And when it came to the work of charter schools, particularly that of the Harlem Success Academy, my faith in their efforts did nothing but grow. (By the way, I had the exact opposite response when it came to the teachers union).  Among the impressive cast of thought leaders featured in the film, including Newark Mayor Cory Booker and Geoffrey Canada of Harlem Children’s Zone, I was most enthralled with the movie’s protagonist, Eva Moskowitz.  The CEO of Harlem Success Academy, Ms. Moskowitz is a force, and to say she’s fighting the good fight would be an understatement.  Articulate and savvy, she has taken the failure of Harlem’s public schools as a personal call to duty, and her leadership is a sight to behold.  Facing angry throngs of ill-informed parents, as well as corrupt and inept community “leaders”, she bravely navigates a minefield of special interests and misinformation for the greater good.  Her conviction and thoughtfulness is awe-inspiring, and I’m ever so thankful that people like her exist in this world.  Bravo, Ms. Moskowitz.  This is the sound of me clapping.

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Sunday in Singapore

Having wrapped up another week of class, I’m left with a sandwich Sunday since I’ve got meetings in town on Monday and Tuesday.  These days are a welcome break in the routine, as they give me a day to relax, read, and blog about nothing in particular.

The elevators in my hotel are those fancy schmancy ones that have little television screens built into the panels above the buttons.  Playing on those screens this morning was a Charlie Rose interview with funnyman Zach Galifianakis.  I was tempted to ride the elevator up and down for 20 minutes to watch the entire chat but figured that would be poor form.  So instead I hustled to my room to watch the interview on the interwebs.  The clip was pretty good (you can watch it here) and it reminded me of three things.  One, Charlie Rose has a cool job and I dare say he’s pretty good at it.  Two, I always enjoy seeing comedians/actors who normally play outlandish characters exist for a brief moment as normal human beings.  And three, Seth Macfarlane had a great Tweet the other day where he wondered what lurks in the eerie black void behind Rose.  I wish someone would ask him about that backdrop and he would respond by staring at them in silence for an awkward period of time before turning around and disappearing into the blackness.

Speaking of watching stuff, I’ve got Friday’s Real Time with Bill Maher on as I type this and it might be his worst one yet.  His collection of guests this week left much to be desired:  Al Sharpton, John Legend, Markos Moulitsas (of Daily Kos fame), Dana Loesch (a radio host), and Dan Neil of the Wall Street Journal (to talk about electric cars).  The guests had nothing much to add and made mostly obvious or asinine comments (particularly in the case of Legend and Moulitsas).  And Maher’s show-ending “New Rules” monologue about Brett Favre was just weird.  It got off to a good start but quickly devolved into a weird self-hating diatribe about how white men are idiots who ruin everything.  The Favre “sexts” are certainly fodder for good fun but this was one big swing and a miss for Maher.

Moving on – Once the torrential downpours subsided (which occur with great frequency here), I decided to brave the crowds and roam Orchard Road.  The primary shopping area of Singapore, I’m convinced that each of the country’s five million residents pays a visit to Orchard over the weekend.  It might be the most annoyingly packed place on the planet, filled with hordes of window-shoppers and Filipino maids enjoying their day off (congregations similar to those seen in Hong Kong’s Central district on Sundays).  I wonder if the Singaporean government has mandated that patriotism equals one trip per week to the country’s magnificent mile equivalent.  In which case I’d say Singapore is a mighty patriotic place indeed.

I paid a visit to the local Borders bookstore to see if I could find Jonathan Franzen’s latest work, Freedom.  Though I’m not entirely sold on the guy, I’ve got a friend with impeccable taste who swears by him.  Plus, I saw him do a BBC interview the other day and he seemed pretty smart.  I like feeling smart, so reading him is probably a good thing.  And though I own an iPad – which allows for plenty of book downloads for the avid traveler – a Franzen work strikes me as one that needs to be owned in hard copy.  That way people who peruse my bookshelf at home will assume I’m one of the sharper tools in the shed.  It’s the literary equivalent of wearing glasses.

Interestingly, though, I detected not a whiff of Franzen at the store.  Given all the media hype, I figured he’d be prominently displayed among the “Staff Favorites” or “Bestsellers”.  Instead, he was nowhere to be found.  Not even when I visited the Fiction section and looked him up by name.  There were lots of books by Jodi Picoult but not a damn thing by Franzen.

One topic on prominent display, though, was Singapore.  I’ve heard from expat friends here that the Singaporeans are a rather proud people.  And a visit to a local bookstore does nothing to dispel that notion.  Indeed, a whole wall was dedicated to the city-state, with a host of works chronicling the country’s miraculous rise.  Titles like From Third World To First and The Singapore Story were all over the place.  But the one that stood out to me was Conversations with Lee Kuan Yew: How To Build A Nation.  There is so much inherently interesting about that title, particularly the notion that one could actually build a nation in modern times (which is pretty much what Lee Kuan Yew has done).  This resonated with me not only because it provided an awestruck moment of “Well, he would know”, but it also got me thinking about how more people should do that – and by that I mean they should found their own country.  As we know, there’s precedence.  And it appears there’s funding too.  This may or may not have stemmed from a brainstorm I shared with some B-school classmates.  And our latest brainstorm may or may not involve channeling L. Ron Hubbard and founding our own religion.  We don’t do small ideas at Booth.

 

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The Greatest Squash Photo Ever Taken

Richard Messina of the Hartford Courant captured this phenomenal photo while covering this year’s College Squash Association’s National Team Championships.  Apparently, the antagonist in this photo – who quite clearly won the match – was so ashamed of his defilement of the “gentleman’s game” that he removed himself from the competition.

I don’t know about you, but I would love to see a reenactment of this on SNL, preferably starring Will Ferrell and Ken Jeong from the very underrated NBC sitcom, Community.

h/t JJ for the scoop.

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Three Things

That I like:

  1. Boardwalk Empire: HBO’s newest show looks tailor-made to fill the void left behind by The Sopranos, thanks largely to the magic touch of Martin Scorsese and writer Terence Winters.  It’s also fun to see Steve Buscemi get a shot at carrying his own show.  So far so good!
  2. The Office: Now in its seventh season, NBC’s adaption of the British classic has matured very well over the years.  So much so that it should no longer be compared to the British version and deserves to be recognized as a very funny show in its own right.
  3. ESPN’s Mike Lombardi: Heard the football analyst on a recent BS Report and found him to be very thoughtful and articulate.  The dude’s a football encyclopedia.  Very impressive.

That I don’t like:

  1. Fancy watches on the sideline: It always strikes me as incongruous when I see a football coach (particularly a college one) on the sideline looking sporty with khakis, a hoodie…and a nice, flashy watch.  If ever there were a time for a good old Timex, that would be one of them.
  2. Lebron James playing the race card to explain the backlash surrounding his decision to “take [his] talents to South Beach”.  Ugh.
  3. Ed Schultz:  The MSNBC talking head is turning into his network’s version of Glenn Beck, at least in the angry blowhard sense.  And he loves unions, so there’s that too.

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    Tea Partying In Delaware

    The media is up in arms about the recent surprise victory of Christine O’Donnell over the incumbent Mike Castle in Delaware’s Republican primary for U.S. Senate.  O’Donnell represents the rise of the Tea Party, which has ruffled feathers across the political spectrum and caused a rather entertaining uproar to ensue.  Followers of this here blog won’t be surprised to hear that I consider O’Donnell’s success unsettling on several levels.  Her general weirdness aside (coming out against masturbation, dabbling in witchcraft), I’m most concerned by the fact that she seems to fall short when it comes to competence (at least judging by her pedigree) and corruption (given her campaign’s financial skullduggery).  Keep in mind that I actually appreciate, in many ways, where the Tea Party is coming from.  I like their anti-establishment angle and am all for smaller government.  What I don’t like is their aggressive insertion of religion into the political debate and their general embrace of highly unqualified characters.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  The Tea Partiers by no means have a monopoly when it comes to promoting shockingly inexperienced strangers (see one Alvin Greene as evidence).  But their quick acceptance of empty vessels is disconcerting, which drives Independents like myself screaming for the hills.

    As you can imagine, I find O’Donnell’s take on religion and apparent willingness to legislate morality amusing.  Unfortunately, I can’t do justice to the high comedy of it all.  But, lucky for us, there are folks like Jimmy Kimmel walking this earth to help us out:

    Back to the overarching lament, I happen to agree with Bloomberg’s Margaret Carlson that the Tea Party’s triumph does indeed make competence quaint.

    It’s one thing for a political movement to nominate someone unconventional. It’s quite another to elect someone whom senior Republicans called “delusional,” a bit “nutty” and unelectable even as “dog catcher.”

    So hats off and raise a glass to the Tea Party. They really strutted their stuff yesterday in Delaware, nominating Christine O’Donnell, a 41-year-old marketing consultant, for U.S. Senate over Mike Castle, a moderate Republican congressman and former governor. Her victory puts to rest the old saw that you can’t beat somebody with nobody.

    The Tea Party swept to victory someone who may have paid rent out of campaign contributions, is vocally against masturbation, had staff check cars and bushes to see if she was being followed and suffers from what Karl Rove politely called a “checkered background.”

    Speaking of Bloomberg…

    Mark McKinnon pointed out recently over at The Daily Beast that the Tea Party’s rise could very well create an opening for a legitimate third party candidate.  Enter the big boss man himself!

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    Snooki Versus Sparty

    As I lament yet another ND heartbreak (more on that later), I’m thankful that I’ve got season two of Jersey Shore to help me forget about those dirty Spartans.  As expected, the new season is just as good as the first.  And though the show gives way too much airtime to the old Ronnie-Sam drama, I’ve noticed that I’m laughing out loud way more often this time around.  And it’s been fun to watch Snooki embrace her role as the clueless yet oddly charismatic and sweet house mascot.  I particularly enjoyed it when she informed us that the lesbian rate is increasing in this country because guys suck (revealed as her boyfriend was acting like a douche); and when she and Vinnie serenaded each other following another night of drunkenness (Snooki:  ”Wanna fuck?” Vinnie: “Sure”); and when she said she felt like a pilgrim from the ’20s when she was helping to wash Sam’s clothes in the sink.  On that latter point, it would be easy enough to assume she got her centuries off by about three, but I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she was referring to the 1620s rather than the 1920s.  Afterall, Wikipedia tells me that the first Thanksgiving dinner took place in 1621.  Atta girl, Snook!

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    Coolest Commercial Ever?

    Maybe not the coolest ever but certainly the best I’ve seen in a long while.

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    Preemptive Product Placement

    As if anyone needed reminding that the MTV show Jersey Shore is basically a televised look into the armpit of America, a recent piece in the New York Observer pointed out an interesting practice being adopted by various luxury retailers looking to distance themselves from certain of the show’s stars.  Specifically, companies like Coach and Hermes have actually been sending Snooki bags made by their competitors in an effort to get her to be seen with items other than their own.

    Allegedly, the anxious folks at these various luxury houses are all aggressively gifting our gal Snookums with free bags. No surprise, right? But here’s the shocker: They are not sending her their own bags. They are sending her each other’s bags! Competitors‘ bags!

    Call it what you will — “preemptive product placement”? “unbranding”? — either way, it’s brilliant, and it makes total sense. As much as one might adore Miss Snickerdoodle, her ability to inspire dress-alikes among her fans is questionable. The bottom line? Nobody in fashion wants to co-brand with Snooki.

    Now don’t get me wrong – I am by no means hating on Jersey Shore.  In fact, I happen to love the show and am very excited to dive into Season Two.  But the same car crash element that draws me to its warm embrace is exactly what drives otherwise buzz-hungry companies like Coach to run for the hills.  And not only do they run away but they even resort to subterfuge to undermine their competitors.  You gotta love it when trashy reality pop culture and cutthroat business collide!

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    Slice Of Awesome: Kenny Powers Edition

    Posted in honor of – and with great anticipation for – the upcoming season of Eastbound and Down.

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    I Can’t Feel My Face

    I was awakened from my blogging slumber by the below video, which was just too good to not pass along to my long-neglected legions of readers.  As for the inexcusable gap since my last post, suffice it to say that things have been rather hectic this summer, which took me away from my favorite hobby.  That said, I’m hoping this marks the beginning of a return to a more normal posting schedule.  Fingers crossed!

    In the meantime, just remember that “They don’t call it the Amazing Race for nothin’!”.

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    I Love Local Commercials

    Ilovelocalcommercials.com is a brilliant website that compiles some outrageously funny local commercials from all over the country for our viewing pleasure.  The one below will resonate with my fellow Chicagoans, as I remember watching – and laughing uproariously – dozens of times during college whenever it aired.

    The site is run by a couple guys named Brett and Link who make local commercials of their own using the original, unintentionally funny classics as their inspiration.  Here’s an example of their stuff, which is downright redonkulous.

    h/t Adam for the scoop.

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    A Colbert Zinger

    The below quote is from Stephen Colbert’s interview with Israel’s ambassador to the U.S. on today’s Colbert Report.  It’s Colbert reflecting on Helen Thomas’ now infamous suggestion that Israelis go back to where they came from.

    I repudiate what Helen said….Israel is for the Israelis.  If anything, the Palestinians should back to where they came from.

    Zing!

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    The Amazing K-Strass

    Someone going by the name Kenny “K-Strass” Strasser has been impersonating a yo-yo master with an environmental message to sneak his way onto television stations across the Midwest.  After finagling a spot on a local news program, K-Strass then proceeds to make a complete fool of himself, leading to some rather awkward moments with the anchors.  Obviously, this is a Borat-inspired act of sabotage perpetrated by an enterprising comedian…whose efforts I roundly approve.

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    RIP Gary Coleman

    The following post was submitted by a friend to whom I’ll assign the temporary nom de plume, The Logicalist.

    ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    I moved to Los Angeles just after September 11th after a year of freezing my ass off in Boston following my undergrad studies in the South.  Needless to say, at that time everyone’s heads on the East coast were swimming with questions about the future, our security, and hastily-made foreign policy decisions.  On the West coast, however, the wheels were turning on the annual Laker Bandwagon and people in general felt very removed from the tragedy, so life generally proceeded as normal.  Most folks don’t work a typical day job in Los Angeles because they’re “in the business” (kind of ironic actually) but at that time it was painfully difficult for anyone actively searching for work, notably architects (my chosen profession at the time).  So, I did what any newly-transitioned, 23-year old East-coaster who lived on the beach in Playa del Rey would d0 – I sat on the beach drinking beers with Mary Jane.

    My beer store du jour was Ralph’s in Marina Del Rey, the one at the end of Lincoln before you hit the turnoff for Culver (that was before they rerouted everyone to Jefferson).  I typically hit this spot every few days or whenever my finances swung in a permissible direction.  And when I did I usually grabbed the usual 12-pack of Budweiser and two PBR tall boys.  What can I say, I am a simple American guy.

    During one of those trips, one fateful night in October, I experienced my most memorable moment in Los Angeles:

    As I was walking towards my usual purchase in the freezing cold beer aisle – which lies adjacent to the room temperature wine aisle – I heard a giant crash followed by no less than 20 breaking bottles of wine.  I had already grabbed my goods and was not the slightest bit interested in the shenanigans of drunken idiots destroying the highfalutin grape juice stash.  And considering the strong, mellow buzz I was sporting, I thought the best place for me to be was far away from any persons of authority, which at the time even included the Ralph’s security guard.  So I walked up to the checkout counter, set down my purchase and began to hear, “Good grief! Gosh, I’m sorry. Boy, how stupid of me, I can’t believe I did that. What I mess. I am so sorry I was just trying to reach the wine and my foot…”. The voice grew louder and was clearly moving towards me, yet I couldn’t see anyone except for the cashier.  Suddenly, the voice stopped somewhere below waist level.  And when I looked down I was met by the bloodshot eyes of none other than Gary Coleman.  He was standing in front of me wearing overalls, a train conductor’s hat, and a red bandana wrapped around his neck.  And he was completely covered in red wine.  He stood there looking at me for a moment then turned around and muttered “Goddammit all” under his breath before turning and walking away.  I waited until I got outside for my brain to process what I had just experienced.  And then I just burst into laughter.  The entire drive home I was thinking to myself that no one would ever believe me, but when I relayed the story to my brother he laughed equally as hard.  I guess that was just life in L.A.

    The recent news of Gary’s death made me a little sad.  The guy never seemed to recover from the popular perception that he was an outcast has-been child actor whose boyish charm and comedic timing seemed inappropriate for a pint-sized adult.  I grew up watching Diff’rent Strokes and can remember very clearly what happened when Arnold and Willis got locked in the basement, when Kimberly decided to wash her hair with rain water, and when good ol’ Lincoln (Arnold’s goldfish) died.  I think it was kind of fitting to see him that night in a train conductor’s outfit amidst all the mayhem because I will always remember him as that kid who made me laugh, and I’m thankful I got an up-close and personal look at just how funny he was.

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    Slice Of Awesome

    Courtesy of Grandma:

    Ruminations Of A Commuter

    Just got back from a whirlwind trip to NYC and DC, which I’ll blog about in more detail later (hint: it will be entitled How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Phish).  For now, I’m going to share a few insights gleaned from my couple days stateside and from my time spent commuting.

    • Saw a couple movies on my flights, including Public Enemies and Funny People (I also watched Michael Moore’s Capitalism, which deserves its own post).  Public Enemies is about the infamous bank robber John Dillinger (played by Johnny Depp) and his cat-and-mouse game with FBI agent Melvin Purvis (played by Christian Bale).  Considering the headliners and the plot, I had fairly high expectations for this film but was left disappointed with the final product.  While Depp had a decent turn as Dillinger, I thought Bale pretty much sucked as Purvis, and the directing felt strange to me.  Lots of pieces just didn’t seem to fit and there were too many stunted moments for what should’ve been an edge-of-your-seat ride.  I actually liked Marion Cotillard‘s turn as Billie Frechette, Dillinger’s love interest.  However, her French accent was way too overpowering for her to pull off a Wisconsin one, which is turning out to be one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to film and TV entertainment (see the FlashForward post below).  On the other hand, I thought Funny People was fantastic.  Initially, I had no interest in seeing this film, as I’ve had spotty success with past Judd Apatow productions (Knocked Up, Superbad, etc.).  This film, however, was great.  It moved beyond Apatow’s standard slapstick humor and actually went for a more visceral and serious treatment of comedy, told from the point of view of those who practice the art as a profession (i.e. stand-up comedians).  Adam Sandler plays the lead role as a successful but disenchanted comic whose close call with death sends him down various routes of self-exploration.  Taken along for the ride is a budding amateur played by the surprisingly convincing Seth Rogen.  The supporting cast includes Jonah Hill, Jason Schwartzman, Leslie Mann and Aubrey Plaza, each of whom is quite good.  In addition, Eric Bana has a great turn as Mann’s conflicted husband, and we are treated to an onslaught of pretty solid cameos from the likes of Eminem, Ray Romano, Sarah Silverman, and Norm Macdonald, among others.  This is a very good movie.  Though it runs a bit long, it is powered by some solid performances (especially Sandler, who revisits the depths he explored in Punch-Drunk Love) and the writing is equal parts convincing and humorous.  The jokes delivered onstage are fun and the ones delivered as part of the standard character dialogue are even better, especially since they are done in such nonchalant fashion.  See this movie.
    • Unless you’re willing to spend an outrageous amount of money, hotel rooms in NYC pretty much suck.  Small, stinky, and lacking in amenities would seem to be standard fare for anything less than $500 per night.  We stayed at the Hotel 373 near the Empire State Building and would certainly never stay there again.  Our room was ridiculously small, it smelled of mold, the TV was tiny and disproportional (making everyone on the tube appear short and fat), and I’m quite certain that the sheets are not cleaned on a regular basis (plus, housecleaning closes at 4 PM – WTF?!).
    • I took the Acela Express from New York’s Penn Station to DC’s Union Station on Saturday.  This was quite the pleasant experience, especially considering that it took less than three hours to make the trip.  My one complaint would be the lack of wifi access anywhere along the route, something I’m told Acela is soon to address.  Passing through places like Philadelphia, Delaware and Baltimore reminded me of how close together everything is on the eastern seaboard.  Unfortunately, I was also reminded of how substandard our transportation network is in the U.S.  In Japan, the bullet train concept is fully-developed and took hold long ago.  Meanwhile, our access to such transportation in the U.S. is limited to just the Boston-NYC-DC corridor, making me lament yet again the poor state of transportation infrastructure in our country.
    • Speaking of which, we flew out of Washington’s Dulles International Airport on Sunday.  This was my first visit to the airport and I must say that I was very impressed (Lizzi would disagree since we arrived separately for different flights and apparently had much different takeaways).  What I found was an experience colored by very little waiting times at check-in and security, clean corridors, plentiful shopping and restaurants, tons of pleasing, ambient light, and an ANA lounge that connected directly to my plane.  Dulles is now my favorite airport in the U.S.  Of course, this is kinda like winning the world’s tallest midget contest, but still.
    • Though I was only there for a short time, being in DC reminded me of how much I love that city.  I interned there for a summer during undergrad and fell in love with the history that oozes from the city’s pores.  And there’s something romantic about the notion that the city’s buildings are not allowed to exceed the height of the Capitol Building, making everything take on a more intimate feel.  Maybe I’m growing tired of the concrete jungle that is Tokyo?  Whatever the case, I can’t wait to get back to our nation’s capitol for a more involved visit.
    • I got reacquainted with two shows that I previously loved but had taken some time off from: Curb Your Enthusiasm and South Park.  Both shows are great.  Smart, witty, just downright brilliant on so many levels.  Anyone looking for some comedy gold should check out South Park’s Margaritaville episode from season thirteen.  Among the issues tackled are religion, profligacy, government ineptitude, racism, and the financial crisis.  This show has got some serious layers for anyone looking to explore them.  Very good stuff.
    • Among the things I read during the trip were Soccernomics (the soccer version of Freakonomics) and American Sketches (Walter Isaacson’s newest collection of profiles), to go along with a smattering of magazines.  I’ll write more about the books later.  The one magazine article that stood out was The Atlantic’s piece on the prosperity gospel and its possible role in the latest financial crisis.  The article asks the question, “Did Christiantiy Cause the Crash?“, a loaded question if ever there was one.  It’s of course tough to answer with any certainty, but the article at the very least shines an unflattering light on certain elements at play within Christianty and among its practitioners.

    FlashForward

    Lizzi and I recently began watching a new television series on ABC called FlashForward.  It was described to us as a mix of 24 and Lost, which sounded just fine (conceptually, at least).  Speaking of the latter, I gave up on Lost about two seasons ago – I got tired of it once I figured out that the writers had absolutely no idea what direction they wanted to take the show in, likely because they didn’t envision it lasting more than two seasons.  I’m at the point now where all I need to know is how it ended.  I’ll greet the news that it was all just a crazy acid trip of Hurley’s with a nonchalant “ah, interesting” and then never think about it again.  This would clearly fall short of justifying the endless hours we spent mesmerized by the plight of the survivors of Oceanic 815, but such is life.

    Anyhow, back to FlashForward.  The story is an interesting one and certainly contains some solid potential.  The basic premise centers on an inexplicable event – a mysterious two minutes, seventeen seconds when everyone on the planet loses consciousness. While suspended in their dreamlike states, most people experienced a flashforward, during which time they each got a glimpse of their lives on a date about six months into the future (I say most people because those who saw nothing got a glimpse into their own impending mortality).

    The primary characters in the show are members of an FBI team who have taken the lead in solving the mystery of the mass blackout, a puzzle piqued by the spotting of a lone, solitary character moving about a baseball stadium while his fellow sports fans lie slumped in their seats (caught on security camera, of course).  That means someone must be behind this nefarious deed!  Why the mastermind would choose to enjoy his time among the snoozers in a baseball stadium remains to be seen, but an interesting development nonetheless.

    While I hesitate to embrace a plot that promises to weave in lots of headscratching moments of time-shifting (thus flying way too close to that sun called Lost), I like the unique gist of the story (which is based on a novel of the same name by Canadian science fiction writer Robert Sawyer).  However, there are a couple of things that bother me intensely about this show.  First, the acting is atrocious.  For some reason, five of the ten main characters are British actors, with only two of them actually playing a character of British origin.  This means we get to watch actors spend more time thinking about perfecting their American accents than nailing their lines, which is a painful exercise.  Most brutal on this account is the protagonist himself, special agent Mark Benford, who’s played by the very British Joseph Fiennes.  Apparently, Fiennes is a rather accomplished stage actor but his turn as an American FBI agent is truly terrible.  His portrayal of Agent Benford might be one of the worst acting performances I’ve ever seen on the small screen.  And that’s saying something, particularly when we consider the existence of shows like Reba and Walker Texas Ranger.  Beyond the brutal performances of Brits trying to speak American (hehe), John Cho, who plays special agent Demetri Noh, is equally horrendous, even in the absence of the need to fake an accent.  At the end of the day, I don’t care whether any of the characters in the show lives or dies, an ambivalence that I’m sure the show’s creators aren’t seeking (you may recall that I feel the exact same way about the characters in Grey’s Anatomy, save for the fact that I actively root against Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang).

    My second gripe relates to the directing, which I suppose is magnified by my distaste for the acting.  The director loves to repeat things so much that I get the feeling he thinks I’m slightly handicapped.  It’s like he’s deathly afraid we’re going to miss some key revelation in the story, so he bludgeons us over the head with it sixteen times just to be sure we caught it.  And he loves cliches.  There are numerous over-the-top cheesy scenes in the series, including the one below, which involves one of those totally lame yet ubiquitous moments.  It involves two guys on the same team that earlier had a falling out; they later find themselves in a shootout with the bad guys; one of the good guys saves the other guy’s butt, who greets his savior with a nod of the head while bullets zoom by; and, of course, it’s set to totally incongruous music and is played in slow motion.  There should be a keystroke for P-U-K-E.  If there were, I’d be pushing it now.

    Oh, Betty!

    Just one of many reasons to love AMC’s Mad Men.  Those looking for more of Betty Draper (real name January Jones) should check out this month’s GQ.

    january-jones-mad-men-cover-story-06

    Slice Of Awesome

    I’m with Larry 100% on this one.  Classic!

    Steven Seagal: Lawman

    This has the potential to be included among the best reality shows ever.  So, so much potential.

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