I love the Olympics!! Not just because I get to see the world's most incredible athletes compete in thrilling races, games, matches, meets, etc., but also because the Olympic theme music was used as the theme music in the short lived 1993 series "The Adventures of Brisco County Jr." A couple of years ago, I bought the series for my friend for his birthday. As we watched the first few episodes, I couldn't help but notice the music sounded strangely familiar, but I eventually concluded that I just remembered it from when I watched the show as it originally aired 15 years ago. That conclusion was debunked a week ago when that same friend pointed out that the Olympic theme music is the same music on Brisco. I became unnecessarily elated at this revelation, but anything involving Bruce Campbell inspires uncontrollable joy within me. So this fusion of campy, early nineties, western/sci-fi TV series and epic, emotional, mind-blowing olympic sports makes for one awesome televised treat.

Saw...it already

I was at the movies recently, because that's where I tend to spend a lot of my time, and I saw a preview that upset me. It upset me so much, in fact, that I groaned, too audibly it would seem, causing the people in my immediate vicinity to whip their heads around and gaze in my direction for a few excruciating seconds before returning their attention to the rest of the trailers. This preview, as you might have guessed (although I doubt you guessed because I haven't revealed any real hints as to what this movie was) was for Saw V. For those of you who might be sadly unlearned in the understanding of Roman Numerals, this is the FIFTH installment of the Saw series. FIVE. Cinco. Funf. Cinq. Cinque. Half of ten. Hold up your hand (or one of your feet) and count the digits...that's how many Saw movies are in existence at this moment. I was hoping, desperately, that Hollywood's little obsession with torture porn flicks had come to an end with the absolute and well deserved FAILURE of the most recent Midnight Meat Train (I think it was in theaters for approximately 12.7 seconds), but no such luck. I'm afraid we are doomed to see Saw (see-saw....heehee) trailers for the rest of time. Who knows? These movies might even surpass Star Wars for the "ENOUGH ALREADY!!" award. Take THAT George Lucas.

The Today Show Tragedy

I think I'm a masochist. Every morning, like some pathetic brainwashed slave, I wander to the kitchen, settle down with my bowl of cereal, and, unthinking, power up the ol' boob tube and set the channel to the Today Show. And every morning, without fail, I bitch about it's stupidity. So why do I continue to torture myself in this way? I guess it's like watching a train-wreck or rubbernecking at a car accident on the freeway- Meredith is the decapitated child in the passenger seat, Anne is the teenager thrown from the car from lack of a seatbelt, Al is the spectator who continually gets in everyone's way, Kathy Lee is the stupid, babbling drunk driver who caused it all but unfairly walked away from everything unscathed, and Matt is the Jaws of Life: cold, dry, mechanical- struggling in futility to salvage this God awful disaster, all the while resigned to the fact there's no saving this pile of twisted, smoldering, carnage-plastered shit.
Seriously Matt...you could do so much better.
As far as I can tell, the Today Show no longer reports the news. I can sit and watch 4 hours (yes, 4 miserable hours) of this show and come away from it LESS informed about world issues than I was before. Watching the today show is like having your IQ slowly sucked away and replaced with facts pertaining to spring fashion, Brangelina's myriad children, how to properly disguise those pesky and unsightly circles under your eyes, and canine geneology..."Well, I'm not really sure what's happening with the war and the election and all, but what's really important is that I now know my little Baxter is not, in fact, part Poodle. Thank YOU, Today Show!"
And what's the deal with all these obesity stories?!? We interrupt this program with breaking news...AMERICANS ARE FAT AND GETTING FATTER BY THE MINUTE!! NO. REALLY? I had no idea. Seriously. Every other day, the today show breaks out the obesity stock footage and we, the unfortunate viewers, are forced to watch those gargantuan ever-expanding bellies jiggle across the gargantuan ever-expanding HD screens and hear about how this has become an epidemic in this country. It saddens me deeply that this qualifies as news anymore. I don't need the today show to tell me that. All I have to do is, you know, go to the mall...or the DMV...or look out the window. And what about those poor people to whom those portly paunches belong? One morning they could be in their kitchen watching their favorite morning "news" show, scrambling up a few dozen eggs topped with bacon, cheese, hash browns, heart palpitations, sleep apnea, and low self esteem...then WHAM. It hits them..."my, that flabby torso looks awfully familiar...and I'm pretty sure that stretched-to-capacity wolf-print T-shirt is mine! I'd recognize that grease stain anywhere. Damn...I'm so fat I've been added to the fat film hall of fame." That's pretty much the last thing these people need, isn't it? To have their bodies showcased as a warning to the rest of the only slightly overweight citizens of this nation. Pile on another helping of low self-esteem there, buddy...it's gonna be a long day. But be sure to keep watching! Because there's a segment during the 16th hour that teaches you how to cook healthy, nutritious meals without feeling deprived! You like turkey burgers and steamed veggies, right? Oh, and the 29th hour has a segment that will help you tone those triceps with soup cans! Can you believe it?? Just try not to eat the soup halfway through the exercise.
When you're not rolling your eyes at the tripe being reported, you're rolling your eyes at the people doing the reporting. If I were to write a letter to each anchor on the show, here's what I would say:
Dear Meredith, stop trying to be funny. See that tele-prompter? Read it, and only it. No one finds your banter and attempts at teasing to be particularly humorous, so please make an effort to end this. I do, however understand that your time spent on the View has warped your personality, making you more irritating and insufferable than you might be otherwise, so I'll blame Barbara Walters for some of your shortcomings...some.
Dear Anne, I think I might like you if I met you out in the real world, but I have to say, you really piss me off when you're on camera. Now pay attention to what I'm about to tell you. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE NOMINATED FOR AN OSCAR NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU EMOTE!! When reporting a serious or sad story, pretty much all you need to do is suppress a smile. Stop treating every sad story like it's a personal tragedy. You're trying so damn hard to fill your interviews and reports with swells of sadness and squints of emotional pain that it comes off as phony and obnoxious...I swear to God I'll cry if I have to watch one more heartfelt story in which you interview a kid with Asperger's who made the High School basketball team...and MY tears will be REAL.
Dear Al, Get some help. I can literally see the sanity leaking out of your ears. Take some tranquilizers and a vacation...forever.
Dear Matt, Dude, I really like you. You're genuine, witty, sarcastic, intelligent, and best of all, you hate Meredith too! I'll never forget the utter sweetness of Meredith's first day and the famous hand-holding incident. The way you yanked your hand from hers when she tried to grasp it...Beautiful. I wonder if it made Anne cry tears of fake joy.
Dear Hoda and Kathy Lee, First of all...what the hell kind of a name is Hoda? Second of all, what the HELL?!?!? Kathy Lee...in case you didn't notice, your career was over a decade ago, so stop. Just stop. I can't bear to look into your sliced, diced, and pulled face for another minute. I'm pretty sure your mind is gone too...perhaps the gray matter has been replaced by collagen. And Hoda...Hoda Kotb...how do you pronounce that? Anyway, I could say any number of antagonistic things about you, but I suppose your name isn't your fault AND you have to put up with Kathy Lee. All is forgiven. What the HELL were the producers of the Today Show thinking when they decided to take two of the most outrageously annoying women on the face of the planet and give them an entire hour of television to themselves? I still have yet to hear Kathy Lee form a cohesive sentence...at least one that doesn't contain one or more of her children's names. Somewhere, Regis is rolling his eyes. Along with the rest of fat America.
So it is with great regret and a dash a shame that I write this because I know, despite my numerous complaints, I shall continue to watch. In fact, the familiar sounds of pointless chatter hum in the background this moment as I type, continually reinforcing my theory that morning news programs are about as useful as a poopie flavored lollie pop.
But I better wrap this up because Rachel Ray is about to start. I love watching the act of pouring teriyaki sauce into a skillet being met with overly-exuberant applause. Now THERE is some high quality programming.

Why, Pandas? Why??

Pandas need to die. I say this not out of malice. Pandas have never exhibited any kind of hostility toward me, they've never offended my moral sensibilities, they have never wronged me in any way. In fact, Pandas have never done a goddam thing except continuously reinforce the fact they should no longer be alive. It seems to me that nature is doing everything in her power to extinguish the last few miserable little raccoon-eyed bears, and in direct opposition and blatant defiance to the will of mother nature, humans are trying desperately (and most likely in vain) to keep them alive. This process is painful and tedious and I liken it to the plight of modern medicine. Just like we are keeping people alive long beyond when they would normally die were nature to have her way, we are struggling to perpetuate a species the world has clearly given up on and has deemed a monumental waste of time and resources. Humans, not very concerned with what mother nature wants, are apparently blissfully unaware of the fact that species have come and gone throughout the course of Earth's history. Insects, for example, are in a constant state of flux, with entire species dieing out under our noses...not necessarily because we are causing it, but because they got their shot, they didn't give 110%, so nature, in her infinite wisdom and tidying-up skills, struck them from the face of the planet, making room for a stronger, more effective and contributory species. But we don't care about losing insects...no...because insects are not cute. If Pandas had compound eyes that bugged distressingly out of their heads, 6 flailing, multi-jointed legs, cellophane wings, and a proclivity for throwing up on their food before consuming it, I can guarantee we would not be dedicating ourselves so vehemently to rescuing these doomed creatures. Being cute is their ticket to fruitless pursuit for preservation, because they damn sure don't have anything else going for them...lazy bastards. I mean, these animals are so disinterested in keeping themselves alive, they can't even be bothered to reproduce. One of the fundamental and most important acts at which species must succeed in order to survive is procreation. Pandas choose to ignore this. Most organisms on this planet reproduce like there's no tomorrow, unleashing a plethora of offspring in order to ensure at least some percentage of survival (because let's face it, life's a bitch) and the offspring who do survive are stronger than the ones who perished, and, thus, go on to do the same...that Darwin knew what he was talking about. Pandas do not take this approach...they actually don't really take any approach, but I'll go ahead and lay out their reproductive strategy, if you can call it that. First of all, female pandas are only fertile for 2-3 days once a year. So for about 363 days a year, they're basically barren. When those fateful few days do roll around, however, more often than not, the timing isn't synced up, so the mating window is closed almost as quickly as it is opened, or fertilization never even occurs despite copulation because the male, having to mount the female several times to increase the chance of fertilization, just couldn't perform. Strike one. It should not be THAT HARD to make a baby!! This is mother nature gently saying, "I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but I really think you've overstayed your welcome and we just don't really need ya around anymore. So I'm just going to make this painless by cutting off your reproductive efforts and you can live out the rest of your days in peace until your eventual extinction. Really, there's no point in trying too hard with this. Just let it go."
So for the sake of prolonging this panda bashing session, let's say, by sheer luck, a female gets knocked up. She will give birth to one or two cubs. When the babies are born, they are blind and deaf and utterly helpless. As a result, the baby requires every second of the mother's attention
(because the mother was just too uncomfortable or inept to let gestation finish inside the womb) and when i say every second, I mean every second. This means, that if the mother is lucky enough to bear 2 sad little pink blobs, she shows her maternal elation by abandoning one of the cubs so she can give one her undivided attention. The neglected cub dies shortly after birth. This gives whole new meaning to sibling rivalry and child preferential treatment. Wow. Strike two. Not only are these babies underdeveloped and completely dependent when born (dude, baby giraffes fall 6 feet to the ground when they are born and learn to stand and walk IMMEDIATELY thereafter), but if there are two, the mother lets one die...post-partum depression? They should give Brooke Shields a call. So now the mother has to dedicate the next few weeks in isolation to this wormy, overprivileged little succubus. The baby subsists on the mother's milk, if you can call it that. Pandas' diets consist of nothing more than bamboo, which is very low in, well, everything except fiber. You might say, "but if that's all pandas are able to eat and digest, you can't hold that against them!" You'd be wrong...and stupid. I'm the one writing here, so pipe down. Pandas still have the digestive system of a CARNIVORE and do not have the ability to digest cellulose efficiently (Bamboo is mostly cellulose), and thus derive little energy and little protein from consumption of bamboo. Strike three. It's almost as if Pandas are TRYING to kill themselves by not eating what they're supposed to eat! They choose to eat what essentially amounts to big, empty paper towel rolls, instead of opting for that delicious, nutritious, life-giving slab of juicy meat. Maybe they're dissatisfied with the lack of good marinades available in the bamboo forests. Who knows? What I do know, is that this is ridiculous. Anyway, due to the lack of nutritional value in their food of choice, pandas, when they're not too busy NOT mating and NOT contributing to the food chain in any meaningful way with the exception of maybe keeping the bamboo forests in check, spend most of their day eating just to stay alive. So really, they're eating in order to have enough energy to eat. But damn it all, are they REGULAR! Now back to the damn baby. This milk they're unfortunate enough to have to drink, is very poor, and (surprise!) not nutritious, which makes the maturation of the little tyke that much slower. It's no shocker that fewer than 50% of baby pandas survive to adulthood. So if my math is right, and I like to think that it is, (weak babies/crappy milk)+low survival rate=inevitable population decrease and extinction. Then again, even if the little brats reached sexual maturity, it wouldn't really matter all that much because, chances are, they wouldn't make any pathetic little children of their own.
In an effort to remedy this, the humans, with good, albeit misguided, intentions, take the bears into captivity to try to replenish the ever depleting panda population. Ironically, this act does more harm than it does good, because once the pandas are in captivity, whatever little sexual drive they had out there to begin with in the wild completely dies. That is to say, they seem to completely lose interest in the opposite sex and put forth zero effort to mate. Well, shit. This throws a bit of a wrench in our plans to make more panda babies, so zoologists, biologists, and wasting-a-buttload-of-time-money-and-resources-to-
save-these-worthless-panda-ologists have resorted to many odd measures in an effort to increase panda reproduction. These include artificial insemination, showing them videos of pandas mating ("panda porn"), and giving male pandas Viagra. Yes, Viagra. Nothing really seems to be working. Strike four. If panda porn isn't enough to get your mojo going, I don't know what is.
So what we have here is a species on the brink of extinction...for good reason. It is clear these animals are not supposed to be alive anymore. Humans are treating the plight of the pandas the way a 2 year old would treat the discovery of his dead goldfish. We keep playing with it, tapping the glass, tossing food into the tank all the while oblivious to the fact the thing is dead. DEAD. And we just don't know it yet. We're messing with mother nature's decision making process and if we're not careful, she'll tire of our misguided, naive, and somewhat adorable attempts to keep the pandas alive despite all the evidence they really don't seem to want to be, and we're going to piss her off. Mother nature was pms-ing when she killed the dinosaurs and wasted no time with wiping them out and starting over from scratch. Let the pandas go quietly and gently, otherwise, we might have another case of asteroidal annihilation on our hands, and that's not good for any of us...especially those of use who want to keep living.

Musicality

Today I heard an interesting song on my way to the gas station. The song is called, "I Kissed a Girl," by Katy Perry. Yes, Katy Perry is a woman...singing about kissing a girl. The lyrics aren't particularly insightful, poetic, or creative and the song doesn't carry any kind of profound or meaningful message. The gist is that she kissed a girl just because she wanted to and thought it would be a fun, innocent experiment, and she wonders aloud if her boyfriend would care. If we've learned anything from the male gender, not only would he not care, he'd most likely encourage such action, but that's beside the point. As my finger rested on the scan button, poised and ready to skip swiftly to the next station, I felt oddly compelled to continue listening to this song. Sure, the lyrics are, for lack of a better word, dumb, but there was something about the beat, the background music, the baseline that kept me interested in an otherwise lame and banal ballad. This triggered a realization...i have a shallow musical ear. I don't need to have deep revelations when i listen to the radio; I don't want to have to decipher symbolic phrases embedded in weird instrumental rifs to derive some depressing meaning. No. All I need is tempo. If the song has a good beat, decent vocals, and simply entertains my ear for a full 3 minutes (which can be very difficult with the music on the radio nowadays) I'm sold. The song could be about watching paint dry, picking up dog poop, or girls kissing girls, but if it sounds cool, dammit, I'm going to listen. So I will not be ashamed of myself for liking "I Kissed a Girl." And I know that came out wrong, but if you listen, you might see my point.

Graduation (written for my sister's masters graduation)

Graduation is a funny thing. The ceremony itself doesn’t seem to properly highlight the meaning and magnitude of the accomplishment. First of all, graduates are forced to wear odd flat square hats. These seem to symbolize that the cranium has been lodged up against a ceiling, and the ceiling says, “this far, no further!” The image evokes a feeling of stagnation, complacence- of having reached the end of a journey or fulfilled all of one’s potential. In fact, those wearing the metaphorical ceilings have not arrived at the end of anything, but rather the beginning of everything. If the graduates are to be forced to wear a hat, it should be conical in shape, pointing skyward, because the sky is, as the saying goes, the limit. Ok, so that would be almost as stupid as the flat hats and would make the convocation more closely resemble a wizard convention rather than a graduation, but hopefully you get my point. While we’re on the topic of apparel, I might as well comment on the rest of the ensemble as well. All the students wear the same drab gown, and, upon observation by the semi-conscious audience, blend together into one monochromatic mass, unwillingly conforming to the crowd. This contradicts the significance of what graduating means. You’ve distinguished yourself both as a student and a person; proven that you are capable of anything and have established your individuality in the academic and post academic world. If anything, students should be allowed to “pimp” their gowns, so to speak, and make it their own, thus reflecting what they have done for their futures. The students’ stunning and unique personalities should be showcased at a graduation as it is these personalities, and components thereof, which allowed them this moment.

Rant as a result of Heath Ledger's passing

1) First of all, I feel I must address the Heath Ledger issue. Why the FRICK did his stupid housekeeper call Mary Kate Olsen before she called 911?? Who in his/her right mind sees a naked guy lying face down on his bed, oh yeah and NOT BREATHING, and thinks "I know...I'll call whatever the hell is the first phone number I see in his cell phone...That person will no doubt know what to do...MARY KATE TO THE RESCUE!!!!" I mean come ON! AND, it doesn't even stop there! Mary Kate, bless her itsy-bitsy heart, proceeds to call her bodyguard when hearing the news of her friend's cessation of respiration (note the continuing absence of police and/or ambulance in these perplexing and frustrating clusterfuck of unfolding events). Poor Heath really had some first class dolts working for him. I'm not saying if the housekeeper had called 911 before the teeny-tiny Olsen twin that Heath would still be with us today, I just wanted to rant about the random idiocy of those involved.
2) Eels. Why? Why do these creatures exist? I know, in evolutionarily and ecosystem-balancing terms, there must be a great explanation for them, but just for the sake of randomness...does the world really need these horrifyingly ugly, slimy, eerie, evil, slippery, underwater-hole-dwelling monsters? I submit that it does NOT.
3) On the subject of monetary coinage- pennies- will there ever be a time when these one-cent copper discs become obsolete? It seems that all they're good for is weighing down purses, wallets, and pockets. Everyone has an extensive penny collection whether they want one or not, because even when we have the rare intention of using them in our attempt to provide exact change to that nice lady in the Arby's drive through, we inevitably are hit by a wave of laziness and pull out a 20 at the last minute because the idea of counting out all those little coins then risking dropping them and having to start all over is just far too daunting a task for the day. Thus, the 20, that beautiful, easy to carry, lightweight, pristine 20 dollar bill, is viciously broken up into dozens of smaller bills and coins only adding to our ever-growing stash of pennies and perpetuating the tiny-tender-buildup cycle.
4) This random thought goes out to our buddy Stallone- why all the remakes, Sly? Has no one told you you're 61 years old? Will those steroids you took for Rambo (and most likely Rocky Balboa) interact with your viagra and smattering of other old-man medication? Be careful, dude. I hear there's a scene in Rambo in which Stallone actually punches a guy's head off. Just punches it right off the neck...snap. If that doesn't make you want to see it, i don't know what will. So in light of all these remakes, what do you reckon we'll see from him next? Another Cliffhanger? What about Over The Top 2? I personally would love to see Demolition Man 2: John Spartan vs. the Three Seashells.
5) And finally, a truly random observation...I've noticed throughout my typing of this email, I have the tendency to capitalize words right in the middle of sentences...and they're not titles or proper nouns or anything like that, just random words...it's like my pinkie finger starts missing the Shift key (!there's an example!!) and wanders over there independent of my control. As a result of the wayward finger, I've had to make several corrections, changing many unnecessary capitals to lowercase. This has taken some time. I think I should seek professional Help...damn it. I Can't Be Stopped!