10! Again....

This is just another in my continuing traditional of posting useless filler entries to make up my self prescribed arbitrary monthly quotas.

In somewhat of a post script to my previous entry on AT&T's unorthodox cellphone advertisements, I also wanted to mention another commercial (this time for the Go Phone) that caught my attention:

The part that initially grabs my attention are the inspired choices for voice acting. The gingerbread son is obviously voiced by Norm McDonald and I'm fairly sure the gingerbread father is voiced by none other than Steve Buscemi. Norm brings his trademark indifference to the reading of a character that is suppose to be youthful and excited over phone while the pure frustration Steve's character displays at the unstoppable forces eating his house ("Come on man, it's the holidays!") reminds me of his character from "Ghost World". Once you add that to the completely surreal situation of a suburban gingerbread father balancing cellphone costs and repairing his house from constant consumption, you get a truly interesting 30 seconds (at least for the first 10,000 times I'll see it).

If only those stupid Chips Ahoy cookies reacted this way their divine hands of fate.

Final Words...

Cellphone commercials are generally a loathsome lot. First there's the problem that cellphone service has reached a point of such uniformity that there's really nothing special one company can offer you except annoying bells and whistles that most people never need anyway. It's pretty difficult to put out a compelling, unique advertisement under those circumstances. Secondly, cellphone commercials seem to be the single most ubiquitous and overplayed advertisements on TV. Sure, beer and car commercials are pretty widespread but those are usually more heavily concentrated around sports programming. Such a universal product like cell phones can be advertised at any given time on any given channel. I'm pretty sure one can't make it through a standard network commercial break without a visit from the Wizard, or the dysfunctional roll over minute family, or everyone's favorite bespectacled douchbag. Aside from one lone amazing exception, the best a cellphone commercial can hope for is to be borderline tolerable.

That brings me to AT&T's line of commercials featuring personalized versions of people's cell phones literally calling themselves to tell them how they won't get the call. While there are clearly some haters, I for one don't really mind these commercials all that much. They may be overplayed as much as the other ones, but their uncanny amount of variety (I can probably think of at least five more along with the five listed) do a good job of mitigating the annoyance. I also find the whole format to be moderately novel and presented well. While all the situations have been exaggerated for obvious comic effect, at the core these are pretty relatable problems associated with insufficient cell phone service (business miscommunication, inability to contact a friend, lost opportunities, etc.). Although I have yet to run into a situation outside of a fallout shelter where I get no bars, I'm sure for some people out there this must be a recurring problem.

Going back to the ads, like I said, they're all slightly wacky but tame situations. The worst that could happen to someone is a perhaps getting fired or spending a night in the wrong hotel or missing a concert. I once joked that perhaps they should start increasing the stakes in these commercials to the point where not switching to AT&T cellphone service will lead to a gruesome and untimely death. Well, imagine my shock when I can across the latest AT&T ad:

He died!! Poor Mr. Sanchez's unwise choice for cellphone service cost him and the two other members of the Action News team their lives. Doesn't anyone find this to be deeply disturbing? Why is there no uproar about what's going on here? On the whole, I can't think of any ads outside of anti-drug/smoking/gun violence public service announcements that explicitly show death as a possible consequence of not using their product. Sure Bud Light emphasizes their "drinkability" over other beers but you'd never expect them to say you'd DIE if you went for Coors!

I really don't know what to make of this commercial. On the one hand it's probably the most provocative cellphone commercial I've ever seen, on the other hand it treats a horrific multi-fatal accident with the same flip attitude as the Michael Phelps fan missing out on meeting him. If this is the strange new direction AT&T is headed with their alter-ego campaign then may I suggest the next one be a kooky version of the Brian McKnight "Back at One" video, but with the guy not having the bars to make a final call to his wife. Hilarious! In the end, I guess it did its job by burning a small hole in my memory, perhaps not for the best of reasons. I know one thing, if I were a television reporter who constantly covered building demolitions, I'd consider switching plans.

Blackest Friday

Apparently out of control, borderline insane, holiday season consumerism is not as rip-roaringly hilarious as Arnold would have you believe. Despite all the news of bloodshed in Mumbai, Somali pirates hijacking tankers, and the killings in Congo; somehow this recent story about a Walmart employee being trampled to death on Black Friday filled me with a special sadness.

I once read a story about a zookeeper who, while tending to a contispated elephant, was killed when he was suddenly buried under hundreds of pounds of fresh elephant feces. This Walmart employee's death seems somehow an even worse way to go. If you start thinking in grand cosmic, existenalist themes, you could say this man could have died fighting for his country in a war, or randomly struck by lightening, or at a ripe old age surrounded by loved ones after living a long and fulfilling life. Instead, he was murdered by about two hundred crazed surburbanites, at five in the morning, at a Walmart on Long Island, looking to save a few bucks on some off brand dvd players and digital picture frames.

I mean what a way to go. It's bad enough that you're working at Walmart and they've got you stocking inventory since probably around three in the morning, the day after Thanksgiving; now you're being stomped to death by a stampede of individuals insane enough to be storming a Walmart at 5 in the morning after Thanksgiving. I'm sure anti-commericalism activists are going to be all over this perectly gift-wrapped example of holiday commercialism gone wrong, but for me it's just the human tragedy of the whole thing. I just wonder if any of those early bird shoppers will realize, wearlily sitting at home after a day of piling up debt, carrying bags and boxes, and sitting in traffic, that they had collectively put a man to death.

Men be acting all like zombies at the mall indeed.

Thank U

A happy message of thanks from all of us (using the royal "we" there) at Victor Sells Out. Being so swept up in the seasonal spirit (and needing any reason to take a break from killing myself over this final paper), here's a personal hand turkey using nothing but a sharpie and a highlighter for the whole internet to enjoy. As you can see I even named him after recently deceased author and oral historian Studs Terkel.

So what am I thankful for this year?:

• The quality display of sidal nudity for Britney Spears' "Womanizer" video. As a fan of all forms of sidal from side boobs to Rochelle, Rochelle, I must say it was an exemplary achievement in partial nudity.

• Cheap gas. Sure it's driven by the reduced fuel demands of the dismal US economy and is actually an ominous sign of further economic troubles; but yesterday I filled up at $1.79 a gallon! I'm pretty sure I was in high school the last time it got this low. You stick some AP history textbooks in the backseat and Weezer's Green Album in the front dash and it's senior year all over again!

• The promise of a free bottle of my favorite beverage courtesy of Axel Rose.

• The Wendy's Double Stack still being a fixture of the Super Value Menu. It's comforting to know that even during these tough times for our country, the Super Value Menu can still give me this piece of delicious double barreled fast food pleasure for a buck.

• Batman: The Complete Animated Series. The entirety of my beloved Batman series, all together in a big shiny, feature-laden box set; complete with art book. If anyone has about 75 bucks to throw around...

• A nationally televised RickRoll. It would have been an even more enjoyable surprise had they not previously announced him at the beginning of the broadcast. Despite the spoiler, I still didn't think he'd actually come out and sing the song! It made for the most entertaining parade since that one year the Sonic the Hedgehog balloon went nuts and took out a lamppost.

• And of course like every year, I give thanks for another year of comfortably humorous "Lockhorns" comic strips. Bitter jokes about women drivers and mother-in-laws and husbands not asking for directions will be never go out of style.
  

And of course, the only real reason why anyone would check out a blog post titled "Thank U":

Dr. Pepper gets in the ring!

In case anyone didn't know (or stopped caring), the fifteen year wait for Guns N' Roses' 6th studio album finally ended with today's release of "Chinese Democracy". It's a day of mixed emotions. I'm sad that I won't be able to use the classic "what will come first? Chinese Democracy the album or actual Chinese Democracy?" line anymore at parties. I'm glad that I can now give my weathered, well worn copy of "The Spaghetti Incident?" a rest. However, the most amazing part of the day is that Dr. Pepper has kept their promise to provide everyone in America with a free Dr. Pepper with the release of the album.

I have to give the folks out in Plano, TX credit, when I first heard about their bizarre, completely random bounty for the next GNR album back in March, I had written it off as just an empty publicity stunt. At the time it seemed like one of those ridiculous wagers that one never expected to lose. Sort of like promising your son that you'll be a family again if the last place Angels somehow win the pennant. However, when Axl and crew actually put it on the line, the Dr. actually delivered. While a lesser soft drink company would have feigned ignorance or just kept mum about the incident, Dr. Pepper actually stepped up.

Although the site right now sort of broken from the excess surge of users, and the fact that the whole process (web application, 4-6 week delivery of coupon, redemption instructions) seems to have as much red tape and hurdles as a Soviet bread line; you can't deny that the Dr. is working to fill its half of the bargain. So for anyone looking to be a pepper, you've got until midnight.

*Update, due to popular demand the offer has been extended to 6pm EST Monday. Remember to cross those ts and dot those lower case js.

Hypothetical playlist for a "Burt Reynolds Action Mustache Viewing Party"

I'm not saying I will be throwing a Burt Reynolds Action Mustache Party (with complementary Burt mustaches for everyone to wear), but if I ever do find myself planning such an event this is how it'll probably go down. To clarify, this night of tribute to the man who single-handedly defined hairy American masculinity through the 70s and 80s will concentrate on Burt's often overlooked (and quite prolific) catalog of straight action vehicles. This means that some of his more well known and successful works from his other genres like action comedy (Cannonball Run, Smokey and the Bandit), sports (The Longest Yard, Semi-Tough), and Peter Bogdanovich directed period flops (At Long Last Love, Nickelodeon) will be excluded. The fare will be limited to straight up Burt Reynolds mustachioed action.

8:00 pm
White Lightning (1973)

It is a bit of a controversial move to kick off a "Burt Reynolds Action Mustache Party" with a movie featuring a mustache-less Burt, however, I think he shows shows enough chest hair throughout to make up the difference. This has everything one would expect from a Burt Reynolds action picture: crooked authority figures (one of the all time great crooked sheriff performances by Ned Beatty), some blonde love interest, moonshine, car chases, cumbersome fist fighting, guns; all deliciously country-fried to perfection. It's sort of a less carefree version of the "Dukes of Hazzard." Reynolds would essentially remake this film in one way or the other for about the next 20 years.

10:00 pm

Gator (1976)

Having just witnessed the action packed conclusion of "White Lightning", everyone obviously wants to know what becomes of Reynold's Gator McKlusky in this sequel. The story is essentially along the lines of "White Lightning", except you replace the evil sheriff with the evil politician (played by future Smokey and the Bandit series co-star Jerry Reed). Gator drives, shoots, punches, and gets with Lauren Hutton; all carried by his trademark smart alecky southern charm. This was also Burt's feature directorial debut.

12:00 am

Sharky's Machine (1981)

You wouldn't believe how disappointed I was when I learned that the titular "machine" was not some type of fantastic crime fighting robot but rather the name given to the ragtag group of investigators that aid Sharky in his quest to put away the crooked governor involved in a high class prostitution ring (unbelievable I know). As with any action film involving prostitution rings, there is indeed a hooker with a heart of gold (Rachel Ward) and, yes, she eventually gets with Sharky.

2:00 am
Stick (1985)

I have to admit I haven't got around to watching "Stick" but from what I've gathered, it looks like a winner. You've got Reynolds playing his Gator-esque ex-con looking to make good but getting involved with crooked characters, a sexy Candice Bergen as a possible fem fatale, more Burt directing, and a story by Elmore Leonard. To me the whole thing sort of looks like an action packed version of "Body Heat" except with more mustachioed ass kicking.

4:00 am

Malone (1987)

All those who made it all the way through to 4 will be rewarded with this spectacular conclusion to the Burt action period. What can I write that wikipedia's quoting of the Allmovie guide hasn't already written:

Malone (Burt Reynolds) has been a "wet" operative for the CIA for many years, serving his country by performing assassinations. He is tired of his job and wants to get out of "the company" (as it is called) and live a normal life. He is looking along the Pacific Northwest for a place to settle down when his much-cherished classic Mustang breaks down outside the town of Comstock. He manages to get to a small gas station and is treated like family by a Vietnam veteran, who is the station's owner, and his daughter. They are suffering from the nefarious activities of a local bigwig (Cliff Robertson) to take over all the land in the city in a hare-brained development scheme. He soon runs afoul of the town sheriff, who is basically an employee of the developer, but eventually wins his respect. Meanwhile, the CIA is none too pleased to hear of Malone's intended retirement and send a succession of hit-men after him to ensure that he divulges none of their dirty secrets. Malone destroys the first two killers at some cost to his own well-being. The next assassin turns out to be a woman who is susceptible to his charms. Meanwhile, he has a thorough-going local scoundrel to put out of business

There seems to be at least a half dozen action cliches in that plot description. While the marathon party may be wrapping up after Malone around 6, there is always the possibility of some sweet extra breakfast Burt if one of the cable channels is airing an episode of "Evening Shade."

Rule of Three: 90s MLB Kids' Fantasy Movies

My continuing series of explorations into esoteric pop culture triplicates brings us today to the mid 90s where a trio of classic kids baseball films came to fill me and the rest of my generation with completely unrealistic expectations for success in Major League Baseball. Of course the three films I'm referring to are "Rookie of the Year", "Little Big League", and "Angels in the Outfield"; three movies with surprisingly bizarre similarities in themes and structure that go beyond the obvious "kids involved the major leagues" concept to almost make it a genre onto itself.

Breaking each movie down individually based on my disturbingly detailed memory of the films and a little help from the Wik, it becomes quite apparent that these films shared more than just the main unifying concept. Also, before I go ahead I just want to note that yes, I am ignoring that other seminal childhood baseball movie "The Sandlot." But before anyone cries foul (Get it? Baseball? Foul? Hilarious...) the movie is really all about kids playing baseball rather than kids playing/being involved with Major League Baseball. By the time the movie gets to the majors the two friends have grown up, so there's really no novelty in that. The only other kid friendly 90s movie I can think of is the 1996 Matt LeBlanc, sports monkey classic "Ed" which is left off the list for obvious reasons.

I guess I should mention that there will probably some spoilers. Although come on, it's been almost 15 years, unless you're currently under ten (do your parents know you're reading this blog?) you've either seen these films or have no real intention of seeing them in the future.

Rookie of the Year (1993)

Basics: 12 year old Little Leaguer Henry Rowengartner discovers that the tendons in his recently broken arm have healed in an unexpected manner, leaving him with the ability to throw triple digit fastballs. Under much media scrutiny, he is signed by the Chicago Cubs. He leads the last place team to a final deciding game at the end of the season for a playoff spot, and, according to the ring shown at the end an eventual World Series title (thus clearly landing the film in the category of pure fantasy/science fiction). He eventually loses his talent but happily returns to being a kid again.

Broken Home: Father abandoned the family, raised by his independent, floater throwing, single mother.

Supporting Friend Characters That Tell the Protagonist How Much They've Changed: He's got two of them.

Baseball Player on the Team who becomes a replacment Father Figure: Aging starting pitcher Chet "Rocket" Steadman played by Gary Busey who helps Henry adjust to the intimidating situation of being a 12 year old MLB pitcher. It's implied that he may possibly become a literal father figure based on the growing relationship between him and Henry's mom. Although having Gary Busey as your father figure may not be the best idea.

Evil Player that Appears as the Final Out: The slovenly NY Met and John Kruk look-a-like, "Butch" Heddo who originally hits a home run against Henry in his first game and comes back as the crucial final out in the final game of the season right after Henry loses his ability to throw heat. Fortunately Butch can't handle the off speed softball floater.

Evil Non-Playing Nemesis: Henry's mother's douchy boyfriend Jack who acts as Henry's manager. He greedily exploits Henry for profit all through the film but eventually gets kicked out after attempting to sell Henry to the Yankees.

Incredulous In-Game Commentator: The late great John Candy.

Little Big League (1994)

Basics: 12 year old Little Leaguer Billy Heywood discovers that his grandfather has died, leaving him with ownership of the Minnesota Twins. Under much media scrutiny, he fires the current manager and assigns himself manager of the Minnesota Twins. He manages the last place team to a final deciding game at the end of the season for a playoff spot, which they surprisingly lose. He eventually resigns from the team but happily returns to being a kid again.

Broken Home: Father died at a young age, raised by his independent, single mother.

Supporting Friend Characters That Tell the Protagonist How Much They've Changed: Possibly the same two goobers from the previous movie.

Baseball Player on the Team who becomes a Father Figure: Star first baseman Lou Collins played by Timothy Busfield who helps Billy adjust to the intimidating situation of being a 12 year old MLB manager. He basically becomes a literal father figure after Billy allows him to propose to his mother despite not hitting a home run to win the game as stipulated prior to the last game.

Evil Player Nemesis that Appears as the Final Out: Real life MLB star, and then Seattle Mariner, Ken Griffey Jr. who breaks the hearts of children everywhere by hitting the go-ahead home run at the beginning of the crucial final game and then robbing Timothy Busfield of the potential game winning homer with a spectacular catch at the end.

Evil Non-Playing Nemises: Hard-ass ex-manager George O'Farrell played by the always hard-ass Dennis Farina. His poor managing skills and mistreatment of the players is the impetuous for Billy's decision to fire him and step in. He possibly returns as the manager of the rival Mariners but I'm not quite sure on that.

Incredulous In-Game Commentator: Real-life Twins announcer John Gordon who, for some reason, had to play a fictional version of himself under a different name.

Angels in the Outfield (1994)

Basics: 12 year old baseball fan Roger discovers that his father has decided to abandon him in foster care, leaving him with the sarcastic response that they'll be a family again when the last place Angels win the pennant. Incapable of understanding sarcasm, Roger prays to God to help the Angels out so he could have a family again. God sends actual angels to secretly help the team cheat. Roger convinces manager George Knox (Danny Glover in full "I'm too old for this shit mode") to follow his advice. However soon people pick up on this seemingly crazy strategy and under much media scrutiny, Roger reveals his incredulous secret. The Angels stop helping the team but they still win the final deciding game at the end of the season for a playoff spot anyway and he happily returns to being a kid again.

Broken Home: Father leaves, raised by independent willed, foster parent (the always independent and motherly Brenda Flicker).

Supporting Friend Characters That Tell the Protagonist How Much They've Changed: His adorable black friend J.P.

Baseball Player on the Team who becomes a Father Figure: Aging starting pitcher Mel Clark played by Tony Danza who ends up defending Roger and George and rallies the team around their cause. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him it is revealed to Roger that he will be dead in 6 months so George ends up becoming the literal father figure by actually adopting both Roger and J.P.

Evil Player Nemises That Appears as the Final Out: Real life MLB semi-star Carney Lansford as the "intimidating" White Sox hitter that Tony Danza has to get out sans angel to win the game.

Evil Non-Playing Nemesis: Skeptical atheist in-game commentator Ranch Wilder, who aside from being a long time nemesis of Knox, almost ruins everything after reporting on the implausible use of Angels and jeopardizing Knox's job. Not as blatantly evil as the others in my opinion. Wasn't he just being a responsible sports journalist?

Incredulous In-Game Commentator: Double duty, see above.



One interesting note, all three films came out during the one year stretch just prior to the 1994 baseball strike. In fact, "Angels in the Outfield" debuted roughly a month before the season was shutdown. That sort of really knocks the wind out of the whole "magic of baseball" and "love of the game" messages expounded by all three films. Adding together the ill will generated post strike, the overall taint of the steroids era, the overtaking by football as the most nation's most popular sport, and the generally increased cynicism of 12 year old children today, it's fairly certain that such movies are truly a relic of our childhoods.

Just What I Needed

In another sign o' the economic times, the number 2 consumer electronics retailer in the country, Circuit City, filed for bankruptcy protection just the other day. Objectively this bit of economic news appears to be another depressing example of the financial crisis gripping this country as we head towards what will most likely be an exceptionally dour Christmas season (think Merle Haggard's "If We Make It Through December"). However, let it be said that there is always a silver lining in the most pessimistic of situations. A possible dissolution of the Circuit City corporation would essentially guarantee that they will never again air those commercials featuring "Just What I Needed" by the Cars.

I know that it has been a few years since those once ubiquitous ads terrorized the nation. In fact, there has been such a movement in the past years to forget that dark chapter in the history of advertising that I couldn't even find a single historical copy of the ad (the closest approximation I could locate was this amateur parody). However for those of us who lived through those unspeakable horrors, the nightmare lingers. Even today, what should be the Cars' finest moment and a pinnocle example of late 70s American New Wave, is forever tainted in my mind by the lasting legacy of those ads. When that distinctive guitar chord kicks off the song, I still for a split second expect some goober to be enthusatically talking about the wide selection of HP Compaq laptops available. While time has done its best to nurse the wounds, the scars will always remain.

So as this recession continues on and the number of corporations start falling like the leaves of autumn, you can atleast take some solice in the almost divine retribution being delivered on many of the guilty companies for their past sins of ineffective, irritating, overplayed, advertising that forever ruined our favorite pop songs. For example, with the current state of the ailing American automtive industry, I think we're in the clear against anymore "Our Country" ads. Unfortunately foreign automakers like Toyota are still posting relatively positive gains.

Are there any other offending companies that you think are really asking for a bitch slap from the invisible hand?

God Bless The NEA!

While the nation remains in the hazy depths of the Obama Hope Coma brought on by his historic victory on Tuesday (doesn't it feel like it's been a lot longer than three days?), the great majority of the country has inadvertently (some intentionally) forgotten that we are still unfortunately under waning days of the Bush Administration. Although we can all take solace in the fact that January 20th is relatively right around the corner, we are certainly not out of the woods yet. In fact, this 70 some odd day period until Inauguration Day could be the most unpredictable days yet. Whether it's doing some last minute hostage negotiations, handing out presidential pardons like candy, or preserving the ideals of the dying Federalist Party within the judicial branch, with any outgoing presidential administration in full lame duck mode, there's no idea what crazy shit they'll pull.

I mean, wouldn't you do the same thing if you were told over two months prior that you would be replaced at your job by someone you fundamentally disagree with and there would be little to no repercussions for your actions during your remaining months of employment? That's why a lot of other jobs just give an outgoing employee a short two weeks and have the security guard keep an eye on them when then they take their stuff out. At least with the standard downsized wage slave the worst you can expect is some stolen office supplies or inappropriate mass emails, with the President you're talking about the reigns of the country and the free world.

In any case, while the Obamarama continues, the Bush administration has already started on its exit strategy. In what will most likely be the first of an increasing number of under the radar efforts to preserve the Bush legacy, the president has just recently appointed everyone's favorite hyper patriotic, neo-conservative country music superstar Lee Greenwood to a 6 year term as one of the 14 members of the National Council on the Arts. Had it not been for my unexplainable obsession with all things Lee Greenwood, this subtle little legacy of the Bush years would have been completely overlooked by me over all the election headlines.

And in the end why not Lee? I mean who is more in touch with the contemporary American arts community and of the plight of artists in general than Lee Greenwood.

You can keep those elitist art directors, turtleneck wearing dance troupe leaders, overly critical authors, snooty museum directors, and other pretentious members of the American creative intelligentsia. How many of them are willing to (at least in song form) "gladly stand up" next to America and "defend her still today"? How many of them make Toby Keith look like an Al Qaeda operative? How many of them can pull off the oh so difficult white short shorts and unbuttoned carnival barker shirt look so well?

Of course this isn't as earth shattering as stuffing the Supreme Court full of conservative Justices before you leave but it's still a little piece of the W. years that perhaps may even outlast the Obama presidency. It's definitely something for all you musicians, performers, and artists out there looking to improve your chances of scoring some funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. Have an operetta that needs financing? Maybe you should throw in a song about the heartland of America. Need some funding to continue your series of contemporary abstract expressionist paintings? Try adding some more red, white, and blues. Need extra dough for that public art installation criticizing the war? It couldn't hurt to change the message to "join the army."

As for me, I think this may be the year I'll finally get enough support for my interpretive dance production of "God Bless the USA".

I Voted for Kodos!

By the end of tomorrow our long national nightmare that is the 2008 presidential campaign will finally be over. Residents of battleground states like Ohio and Florida will finally be free of round the clock robocalls and mailboxes stuffed with glossy campaign adverts. Mario will regain his title as the world's most popular plumber. Undecided voters will be free of the spotlight to go back to their anonymous lives of crippling indecisiveness. Saturday Night Live will have to resort back to writing original, non-political, non-humorous, sketches again.

What this also means is the end of my series of tangentially election related blog entries (at least until the next presidential election cycle). From the Hillary's histrionics in New Hampshire, to the Palin announcement, to the presidential debates, to the rise of Obama, to this meeting on the eve of election day; it has been a quite a ride...quite an increasingly annoying and tiresome ride that I'm glad is finally coming to a conclusion.

In any case, always the great prognosticator that I am here's my completely unscientific, hastily created, projected electoral tally:

I think it's a little more generous to McCain than most of the non-Fox based projections. I'm going with more Bradley Effect over white guilt. Remember everyone, Vote or Die!

Hack-A-Shaq, bruise an ego.

The NBA season kicked off this week and for the Spurs and Suns it only took around 5 seconds of the new season for hilarity to ensue. If you haven't seen it already, Gregg Popovitch figured he'd give a cheeky little response to Shaq's recent accusation that Pops was a "coward" for employing the "Hack-A-Shaq" in the playoffs last season:

Once everyone realized what was going on, a good laugh was had by all. Shaq was smiling. The Spurs were smiling. Pops was down right Fonzied pink about his clever little punk job. In a fun little gesture, whatever animosity that may have existed between the two was playfully buried. I found the whole thing entertainingly unexpected. I've always considered Pops to be the closest thing the NBA had to Bill Belichick; a cold, calculating, disgustingly successful, evil genius. While he was never as unambiguously evil as Belichick, I figured he'd at the very least be a humorless dick incapable of such lighthearted moments. But somewhere between the last odd year championship and growing that crazy beard I guess something changed. In this one gesture he has shown more personality than the last three championship teams combined.

As funny as the brief little episode was for everyone, there was one question on my mind: what does Michael Finley think about all this? Here is this guy, a respected fourteen year veteran of the league, a two time all star, a former member of the old Dallas Mavericks' "Big Three"; and he's the guy they figure is expendable enough to burn a foul on. I mean he was obviously cool enough with the whole thing to go along with it but that's got to dent your pride a little bit. Obviously they weren't going to let Tim Duncan or Tony Parker to go one foul in the red at the immediate start of the game, but they were more than willing to burden Finley with a foul. Couldn't they have have outsourced it to one of their bench players? I'm sure they could have lived with jeopardizing Matt Bonner's career 6.3 PPG (although I guess it might have been been too big a give away to inexplicably start Tim Duncan on the bench). Or couldn't they have just brought back Robert Horry?

I know at this point in his career Finley's primarily a role player and back up for Ginobli, but come on, the guy was one of the superstars from "Like Mike". I think that's got to count for something right?

Four Random Thoughts About the New Guitar Hero Commercial

1. Activision isn't fucking around. The Guitar Hero crew really went to the mattresses in rolling out, in grand fashion, their latest bid to reclaim the fake instrument playing throne that they originally founded. In an obvious show of wasteful ostentatiousness, they decided to get the four greatest athletes of their respective sports (I guess in the case of Tony Hawk, historically the greatest) to come together to promote a product that has absolutely nothing to do with sports! The closest example I can recall of a comparable accumulation of such talent are those Gillette ads (although Theirry Henry could hardly be called the Woods or Federer of soccer) and possibly ProStars (with Bo Jackson playing odd man out). The ball is in EA's court now for Rock Band 3. Movie stars? Astronauts? World Leaders? Decades down the line when we're all old and gray, we'll be telling our grandchildren, in a manner much like a Werther's commercial, about what life was like during the eventual plastic fake instrument playing Cold War that consumed the world.
   
2. Why "Old Time Rock and Roll"? I guess the better question might be: why Risky Business? It's iconic, widely recognizable, and I guess it's associated with fun and cool (in an outdated 80s sort of way); but in the end it is one joke that goes absolutely nowhere after the big slide-in introduction (now if Rebecca De Mornay shows up and they run a train on her, that'd be compelling advertising). Also, I don't know about you but outside of the context of a single teenager cutting loose after being left home alone by his parents, four guys doing the whole dancing around the house in their underwear thing comes off a touch homoerotic. I'm also not sure if the use of a such a stale, anti-progressive, aggressively rockist anthem like "Old Time Rock and Roll" is really the sort of song you want to attach to something being promoted to todays music consuming youth. You better believe Bob Seeger would have objections to some of the "non-authentic" rock acts in the game like Michael Jackson, 311, or perhaps even Steely Dan.
3. Poor Tony Hawk. Does he really have to come out in a helmet and skateboard? You'd figure being the biggest name in his sport and making billions of dollars through video games and other licensing deals would warrant some degree of recognizable celebrity. They didn't make A-Rod wear a baseball cap or Phelps where swimming goggles. Is he that much of an anonymous white dude that they need flagrant signals directing people to who he is? On top of that indignity, they made him the drummer of the band. Granted, drums are definitely the funnest fake instrument to play (at least until someone gets around to creating the fake theremin) but it comes at the cost of being the most overlooked member of the group. While I know Kobe and A-Rod's massive egos could never be constrained to the back, I figured Phelps being the youngest should differ to the veteran. Which brings me to my final point...
   
4. Michael Phelps really can't act. He may be the greatest Olympic athlete of all time and has more gold medals than I have shoes, but the man can't act his way out of a kiddie pool. He always seems to lost and uncomfortable during every media appearance. Despite the writers and producers' best efforts to idiot proof his hosting gig on SNL, it was still a powerfully painful experience to watch. Every time I see him in something with that vacant, goober, semi-smile, I start to become more and more convinced that he's actually borderline retarded, but just happens to be a total idiot savant at swimming. He has yet to prove me any differently. I can only imagine the fascinating challenge faced by his publicist: to promote an immensely talented, inhumanly gifted athlete that lacks a single ounce of charisma.
   

Wassup!

I guess there's been a slightly longer than usual down time since the last entry. There's no real reason for the mini hiatus. I have been feeling a bit out of step lately though; a little north of ennui but not quite up to malaise. Oddly enough, despite the missed time, I'm actually slightly ahead of my usual rate of updates for a month. I'll probably top out over my usual ten post Mendoza line if I maintain this current pace. Do I dare even start to dream about matching the 12 to 13 posts a month heydays of January to March of 08'?

It seems like every other day another reflection of the dire problems of the country today makes me more and more nostalgic for those free wheelin' Clinton years. It appears that late 90s advertising sensations, the "Wassup" Guys, also seem to have felt the pinch of the past eight years.

In a bold, public display of outright partisanism by a beer commercial spokesman not seen since Spuds Mackenzie's endorsement of Dukakis in '88, the Wassup Guys have clearly given their verdict on the previous administration and their opinions on the future.

As tongue and cheek the whole presentation was; it was still kind of expectedly jarring to see such a symbol of simple turn of the millennium high school days supplanted and placed right in the worst elements of the present. It'd be like seeing your high school self on the street crankin' dat Soulja Boy. The whole thing felt sort of bizarre and sad (especially when that one guy tried to hang himself). Seeing this relic of the past in a modern context just seemed to magnify how ugly things have gotten. I guess that's the sort of message they were trying to send out.

Also, isn't it a little bit ironic that it's a former Budweiser ad campaign that's strongly endorsing John McCain's opponent? If I were him I'd get the Budweiser Frogs on the horn and get back on the offensive again.

Resistance is Futile

The 2008 presidential campaign is now heading down the homestretch with just a little over three weeks to go. From what the pundits and national polling seem to be indicating, barring the discovery of a Barack Obama and Bill Ayers friendship scrapbook/joint terrorist manifesto, the country is headed towards a historic Obama victory. I don't know, it seems like historic events are occurring just about every other day (the stock market seems to setting new records by the hour).

If Obama does come through on election day it'll cap off one of the most unexpected, spectacularly meteoric rises to power in American political history since Gerald Ford unexpectedly fell ass backwards into the Presidency. Just four years into his first Senate term he is on the verge of becoming the next president of the United States. I think I'm still using the same super sized double pack of Head and Shoulders shampoo I got from Sam's Club since then.

Given the current context, this recent article offers an interesting historical question: "Could Mike Ditka have changed the course of US history?" I do remember that brief period after the Republican nominee Jack Ryan dropped out and in the search for a new candidate the party was throwing out his name as a potential replacement. While nothing eventually came of it; Ditka, with national exposure and a strong in-state support base, would have definitely been a stiffer challenge than Alan Keyes (the one man political equivalent of the Washington Generals). In fact any member of the Chicago Bears Shufflin' Crew would have been a stiffer challenge. I do agree though with the article that while there was no guarantee that Ditka would have gone all Super Bowl XX on Obama, it is definitely true that had Obama lost, there would be no way he'd be in this position right now. Perhaps had Ditka ran and won, we would be talking about his current quest for the White House and pondering if Tony Eason could have changed the course of US history?

While the Dikta nomination is definitely a plausible "what if", I think the individual who has had the greatest influence on the chain of events that has led to our current position is none other than everyone's favorite ex-Borg, Jeri "Seven of Nine" Ryan. Aside from single handedly keeping Star Trek Voyager on the air for an additional four seasons and replacing Deanna Troi as the prime masturbatory fantasy for an entire generation of Trekkies, she was also Mrs. Jack Ryan from 1991 to 1999. Despite the fact that Mr. Ryan had retired from Goldman Sachs at 40 with hundreds of millions of dollars and had that sweet Borg action to come home to every night, it apparently wasn't enough. In what can only be described as a truly epic case of tragic hubris, his desire for Jeri to go to freaky sex clubs and perform public sex acts with him, naturally led to a prompt divorce. Of course eventually all those lurid details oh so inconveniently came out five or so years later when he was running for Senator, causing him to drop out.

Had Jeri been a bit more Adina Howard-like in her sexual boundaries and gone along with Jack or at the very least been discrete about it during the divorce proceedings, then this entire mess would have been avoided. Without a tabloid scandal crippling the campaign, the state party apparatus could have mounted a strong and effective effort rather than scrambling with a sudden fill in solution like Ditka or Keyes. Interestingly Ryan's credentials were almost exactly like that of Obama: young, good looking, political neophyte, successful, local roots, and a Harvard JD (in addition to his Harvard MBA). And as blue leaning as Illinois was, the Senate spot they were competing for was vacated by a Republican, so it wasn't unprecedented. In addition, sharing the name with Tom Clancy's ass kicking super agent is second only being named Jack Bauer, so the election really could have gone either way.

In Star Trek terms it's kind of like that classic episode of original Star Trek where Kirk and the gang end up in depression era United States and they realize that the women he has just met and fallen in love with needs to die to prevent the Nazis from winning World War II...except this one involves sex clubs with cages and whips. Regardless, if you end up finding yourself the following morning after Election Day, awash in the historic news of a Barack Obama victory, just remember: all this could have very well been determined by the less than freaky sexual tastes of Jeri Ryan.

Debatable

Another presidential debate season has now come to an end (I still can't believe they held it at Hofstra) and the patriotic themed debate backgrounds with giant passages from the Declaration of Independence transcribed on them will be going back in the cellar for another four years. Overall, it was obvious to anyone watching that McCain was clearly taking a more aggressive stance to boost his trailing campaign:

A little loose with the moderating rules there, Bob.

Please forgive the lateness of my reply.

Is it just me or was the first thing you recalled after hearing about Ringo's irritable plea to his fans to not send him any more fan mail was that old episode of the Simpsons when Marge sends him a portrait and gets a response from him decades later?

Well whatever busy side activity he's working on (The New Beatles? Ringo Starr and His Second Team All-Starr Band?) I'm sure it's a wholly valid and compelling reason for issuing his fans a peace and love filled message of alienation. Frankly, I would have found it far more interesting if he had flashed just one half of a that peace sign while addressing his fans.

I, at this time, would also like to extend a message to all fans of "Victor Sells Out" to stop swamping my mailbox with superfluous, gushing, fan mail and requests for autographs. As of October 14th, I will just set fire to them on sight. I am simply too busy with my breakneck, every three days or so, posting schedule to properly answer them all.

Financial donations and offers of no strings attached casual encounters accompanied by self photographs will still be accepted.

Rule of Three: HorrorTown Genre 1982-1984

Anyone who was ever really into academic bowl in high school or college (NYU college bowl president, 2004-2006) will likely understand where I'm coming from. For those of you whose only exposure to hardcore, moderated, team based, buzzer pressing action was that episode of Saved by the Bell where Zack and the gang compete against a bunch of ugly nerd caricatures from rival Valley; all I ask for is for you to keep an open mind.

For the benefit of those unfamiliar, a standard round of academic trivia consists of two teams of four being asked a ten point tossup question by the moderator. At any point in the question, any member of either team can ring to answer it; at the risk of getting it wrong, losing five points, and giving the other team sole control of answering the question. Once a side has correctly answered the tossup they will get and series of exclusive bonus question worth 30 points which they can confer and answer family feud style. The format of the bonus questions in terms of number and value could be anything: a trio of 5-10-15 point questions, a pair of 15 point questions, questions of declining value from 30-20-10, etc. The most popular format, however, are three questions of 10 points each. If this explanation has somehow perversely peaked your academic bowl interests you should check out Ken Jennings' "Brainiac" or Andrew U.'s disturbingly thorough analysis of buzzing techniques.

After four years of college answering countless 30 point bonuses (and having to write more than a few myself) I developed a sort of mental proclivity towards groups of threes. Many times I or my old college bowl friends and I would find ourselves talking about some esoteric pop culture topic and then notice that there are at least three examples of them (i.e. Drifter's hits about being somewhere: "Up on the Roof", "On Broadway", and "Under the Boardwalk") and deem them enough for a "bonus" or lament the fact that a category is one short of a "bonus" (i.e. biopics about Steve Prefontaine: "Prefontaine" and "Without Limits"). In my mind, a piece of overly specific pop culture trivia reaching that particular standard of the rule of three has now earned a sort of "bona fide" status. Something specific happening once is obviously an isolated incident. Something specific happening twice is a mere coincidence. Once something specific happens three times, it's a movement, a category, a series, an era, a period, trend, or in this case: a genre.

While I doubt there's any real literature to attest to it, under my rule of three, there was an incredibly brief but wildly successful subgenre of Pop R&B that I will officially coin as "HorrorTown", an early forerunner for the more legitimate "Horrorcore" hip hop subgenre that would emerge over a decade later. As the next three songs and videos will show, essentially this sound could be characterized as a blend of 80's contemporary Motown style pop R&B mixed with elements of the occult, death, darkness, the macabre, and the bizarre. Fittingly enough they all involve Michael Jackson as well.

Michael Jackson - Thriller (1982)

With that totally false statement, the HorrorTown genre was launched in a most spectacular fashion. The Citizen Kane of music videos, which to this day continues to influence a whole new generation of pop stars, Filipino prisoners, and reenactors at the Village Halloween Parade who never fail to annoy me, lays out the fundamental blueprint for the entire genre: monsters, disturbing imagery, paranoia, unrelenting darkness; all done with a grand eye for the cinematic...and featuring Michael Jackson. It also carries on the HorrorTown trademark of having a completely accessible, fun, danceable, pop sound that is completely the opposite of its lyrics and theme. There's also the big twist ending, which is a common feature of HorrorTown videos.

Rockwell - Somebody's Watching Me (1984)

For me personally, this is the probably the scariest of the HorrorTown videos (whether that makes it more definitive of the genre or less, I'm not sure). Once again, the random disturbing imagery (floating head, demonic dog, blood, etc.), paranoia, sense of evil, Michael Jackson vocals are all there. Most people will say based on the theme of the song and the shower references, that there's a distinct cinematic tie to "Psycho" with the video, but I find it more like "The Shinning". It's obvious that Rockwell didn't know what he was getting into being the caretaker for this modest two story condo which may or may not be built right next to a cemetery. The video also definitely had the best HorrorTown twist ending with the undead mailman. Aside from the song and video, the fact that Rockwell was Berry Gordy's son gives this single the distinction of having the strongest of ties to the Motown sound. Although I've never seen the music video for his second "hit" "Obscene Phone Caller", based on the words and music, how could it not be another HorrorTown classic?

Jacksons - Torture (1984)

Like the ephemeral splendor of a blazing firework, the spectacular run of the HorrorTown genre eventually ended with the Jacksons' swansong Torture. It's amazing to observe how far the genre had evolved in the mere two years since "Thriller". The HorrorTown video had moved from merely creating pastiches of traditional movie elements to drawing its own completely original artistic visions. In a wholly created nightmarish dimension worthy of Lovecraft the Jacksons find themselves in a truly disturbing universe of giant eyeballs, grotesque spiders, and dancing skeletons; torn between sick pleasure and twisted pain. A true masterpiece of the form if there ever was one. Although Jackson and like minded artists would casually exhibit HorrorTown-like projects from time to time, the classic era died with "Torture".

10 trillion to midnight

The current Victor's signs of the financial apocalypse series turns its sights to the National Debt Clock in Time Square. Since 1989, this billboard sized display constantly updated a series of numerical displays to show the current state of U.S. national debt and how much each family owed. I remember as a little kid driving through Manhattan with my father and asking him what all the increasing numbers meant. Being the lovable sadist that he was, he told me that it was some sort of scientific dooms day clock and when all the numbers reached 9, the world would end. As the case with most eight year olds, after hearing this news I promptly freaked out.

Now about 16 years later, Brian Williams mentions with his trademark gravitas that perhaps my father's cruel lie might not have been all that off.

Remember, this is without factoring in that $700 billion or so I.O.U. the government took out. Can you believe that there was actually a time in 2000, when they had to shut it off because the debt actually started to go backwards? Doesn't that just fill you with an overwhelming sense of melancholy nostalgia for the waning days of the Clinton years, NSYNC's "No Strings Attached", the high flying "The Greatest Show on Turf" St. Louis Rams, and Pets.com; a time when the only thing that crashed was your new copy of Windows Me.

One day we'll look back at this and laugh...OR CRY!

You know you doodle a couple of bears at a cocktail party talking about the stock market...

Well with the ongoing financial crisis now spreading throughout many of the global markets, a crippling, long term global recession may be the final climax of the eight year disaster movie known as the Bush administration (ironically enough, one of the few countries that appear to be apparently immune this: Iraq). Frankly, I don't even know why both major party candidates are working so hard to get elected. With all these things going south it's sort of like going out of your way to the next Oakland Raiders coach.

While it'll definitely be a while down the line before we see how bad things really get or how much they'll improve, or whether all those government billions really did anything, for me things are looking pretty grim. The single greatest signal for me that the soup lines and shanty are closer than we think? Jim Cramer is no longer mad.

Imagine how much trouble the markets must be in where Jim freakin' Cramer, the raging bull, a guy who's whole job is to provide advice on investing in the stock market is telling everybody to completely throw in the towel, give up on buying and holding stocks, and literally take all their money out of the stock market! He looks like he's just a step away from breaking down and sobbing in the tender arms of Anne Curry. I'm not sure what sound the button on his little soundboard makes for "liquidate your portfolio". By the end of the day it was apparent that the market reacted expectedly to this hot little stock tip.

It looks like they'll have to change the show from Mad Money to Sad Money (and yes about 90% of the reason for making this entry was to write that).

Annoyance is Blind

We here at "Victor Sells Out" pride ourselves at our record of unflinchingly addressing provocative contemporary issues and boldly questioning social mores. Whether it's confronting issues of taboo sex, race relations, the state of modern media, or Ziggy; I'd like to think that a big reason people regularly visit this blog, in some cases possibly use it as their primary source for all daily news and set it as their homepage, is due to our special brand of unrestricted candor (and according to the tracking data to mostly read about cheeseburgers).

So it is in that grand tradition of fearless, resolute, social commentary that I'm going to ahead and say it: I hate that blind guy. I know it's in bad form to be criticizing the handicapped, especially someone whose Daredevil like auditory abilities appears to be so inspirationally handi-capable, but what can I say? Every time I've seen this commercial this year, I come out of it with one advertised message: the blind guy is a total douche bag.

Imagine being the two guys sitting by the window or the next table over or standing near them by the bar. You're just waiting around for your order or enjoying your meal when out of nowhere this jerk starts rattling off motorcycle specs based on the noise totally unsolicited. All the while he's smiling in smug satisfaction as if everyone in the bar is staring at him, amazed at this other worldly ability. It's interesting to note that aside from the two Miller Lite drinking rubes by the window, nobody else seems to care or notice. Keep an eye on his buddy sitting across from him, it's obvious from his look of frigid indifference that he's been through this charade before. You know that just off screen he's rolling his eyes in exasperation, quietly muttering "here we go again with the motorcycles..." I can imagine this is the type of annoyance Foggy Nelson has to experience every time he goes out with Matt Murdock.

I'm also bothered by the fact that there's really no verification or accountability for his motorcycle predictions. He could just be spouting out random years, models, modifications that don't exist (um..double overhead shaft Johnson rod). We're all just suppose to assume all that stuff he's spewing out is totally accurate. I do concede that he accurately predicted the beer, although selecting a mainstream brand like Miller Lite really ups one's probability. Also, what's with the extra "perfect combination of refreshment and taste" commentary all of a sudden? You were all facts with the motorcycles. I suspect that the blind guy is working off the incorrect assumption that the two people that he's directing his commentary two are women and that his little routine is totally impressing them.

After that paramount display of self satisfied douchebaggery, what really seals the deal for me is that smirking "next" he drops on every one. At this point I always think he's just going to take off his shades and flaunt that he's not blind. It's the only logical transition for his terrible, terrible character to become even worse. In the end it just leaves me annoyed and displeased that I had to spend even 30 seconds in this ass's world, which I then associate with a tall refreshing glass of Miller Lite.

To put things in perspective. I'd rather have the ethnic comedy stylings of Carlos Mencia shilling me beer.