So I really enjoy just about any competent spoof of Warcraft and its players. I suppose I might have a bit of grudge against it for the way it sucks people in and uses up hours and hours of time. Not to mention that in my various (if brief) stints at MMORPG playing, I continue to be a bit freaked by the players who seem to identify a little too much with their character. No, Dude, you're not an ass-kicking warlock. You're just a douche with a computer.
Hiya. Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have an update to our Issues with Heroes (from last night's episode). And, if you're catching up, don't forget to read the latest Second Opinion with help for a woman pondering a boob job.
Last night, on the Celebrity Apprentice (yes, I watch because evidently I'm a masochist), the teams had to put together some kind of product launch/presentation for a new video phone. Since watching a catty "model" (whose main career accomplishment is the ability to open a suitcase on TV) attempt to manage a group of B-listers isn't exactly mentally taxing, I then had plenty of time to reflect on my issues with video phones. Which mostly boils down to one thing:
People who make video phones do not understand women.
The last thing that I need in my life is to worry about how I look when I'm on the phone. I like taking work calls in ratty pajamas. I don't want to have to brush my hair before calling a colleague to ask about a deadline. I don't need my mom to see the piles of dishes and laundry that tend to accumulate in my house. And I don't want my boss to know that I'm playing solitaire while I listen to him repeat himself for the 25th time about something or other. In other words--I don't want a video phone. I have skype and a webcam--if I really need someone to be able to see my face, they can. On my terms. And don't even try to suggest that you'll have the option of turning off video for any of these calls. Technically speaking, you might, but you know that everyone would be asking why you turned off the video, and it would turn into this big deal. I mean, look at all the drama inherent in de-friending someone on Facebook. And I can't even imagine the pressure of trying to date in a world of video phones. It would probably turn me into a twitchy mess, sleeping with a tube of mascara clutched in my fist.
Personally, I blame the Jetsons. I think the vid-phone people watched it as kids and thought, "Well, I can't make a machine that cooks dinner, but I can definitely invent a phone/television." And they always try to sell it to us with the idea that we can share these touching moments--like our child's first steps--with distant loved ones via the phone. I don't know about you, but very few of my phone calls have to do with major life milestones. And anyway, I have something called a camera, which handles those very well, and with much less dialing and, "hold on--you're breaking up," involved. The vast majority of my phone calls involve discussion of whether we should get pizza or Mexican for dinner, and frankly, I don't need to bring video images into that conversation.
Good Morning. Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have a new Second Opinion (on a woman considering plastic surgery). And, if you're catching up from Friday, there's always the latest Fluff Five.
Commercial naming is such a tricky thing. No one really notices when you do a good job, but come up with something clunky or amusing, and people snigger at your commercials and you become a public joke. My own pet peeve is the names pharmaceutical companies come up with for their new drugs--especially the depression and anxiety drugs, which tend to have goofy attempts to be reassuring, like "Calmalex." (They remind me of the silly names that cosmetic companies use for the ingredients in their beauty products: "New Pantene! With Silkatide!) Courtesy of AnneArchy, I just read Forbes' list of best and worst car names, and I now have to sympathize with the companies that just use alphanumeric names, even if they're boring. (Though I still stand by the premise that anyone driving a car with an "X' and a number in the name is highly likely to be an asshole.)
I can't argue much with the Forbes list, which puts the Corvette, the Diablo, the Ram, and the Viper among the best car names. You don't even have to see them to know that you want to drive a Diablo or a Viper. (I'm not as hot on the Corvette--mostly because I think it works more from tradition that because it's an inherently good name.) Of course, the real fun is in the bad names, which they divide into fake names, overreaching names, and weird names. The fake names are my personal pet peeve: What is an Aztek? Would it have killed Saturn to spell Vue correctly? Though I think the Fiero perfectly evokes the disappointing fake sportscar that bears its name. The overreaching names are well-categorized--the Ford Aspire always filled me with pity and reminds me of how unfortunate it is that anyone who has one probably aspires to having a better car. But the real fun is in the weird names, where we find the Daihatsu Naked, the Honda Life Dunk, the Mazda Bongo, and the Toyota Toyopet. I probably don't need to clarify that these are models found outside of the US (generally in Japan), and you could argue that something might be lost in the cultural differences, but how many shades of meaning can you put on the Life Dunk?
Good morning. Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have a new Fluff Five on poor hat-related decisions. And if you're catching up on the week, there's always the latest Second Opinion, or our Issues with American Idol--not the mention the Daily Fluff Archive.
 Not that I expect most people with more important things in their life to remember her, but Kenley (the retro dress designer from season 5 of Project Runway) was just arrested in NYC and spent the night in jail for assault, harrassment, menacing, and criminal possession of a weapon. Needless to say, when I saw the headline, I was expecting the same-old story about starting a fight in a club, or maybe threatening a papparazzo. (Not that I expect that Kenley is actually famous enough to be followed by papparazzi, but still.)
Instead, it turns out that she threw a cat at her boyfriend. Also, his laptop, some apples, and a glass of water. Yep, just your run-of-the-mill domestic dispute--though throwing the cat was an interesting twist. What surprises me most is the fact that a cat, if thrown, evidently counts as a weapon. Who knew? Was it a ninja cat? Maybe it was a Army Ranger like Nicholas Cage in Con Air--where the fact that it has been trained for fighting automatically qualifies the cat as a deadly weapon. It seems kind of unfair that all the blame is falling on Kenley when her highly-trained ninja cat isn't sharing any of the responsibility for the attack. Going from what I know about cats, it had probably been waiting and training for this opportunity for months. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire argument was part of the cat's grand scheme.
Hello. This morning, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have an update to our Issues with American Idol. (A brief one for last night's results show--if you're looking for the issues with the performance episode, just scroll down.)
Yesterday, Drudge (and my local news) were both reporting that an anonymous employee at Fox was accusing American Idol of being rigged. According to the story, the Producers have already picked the final four (Adam, Lil Rounds, Danny Gokey, and Alexis Grace). I haven't been so shocked since I learned that the sun would rise again this morning.
Actually, I have no opinion on whether it's true or not because (obvious possible fraud aside) it's pretty clear that the producers already heavily manipulate the results--toying with the actual voting is just the icing on the cake. Let's disabuse ourselves of the notion that this is an actual singing contest and accept it as a popularity contest in which singing plays a part. If it were about singing rather than ratings, then there wouldn't be so many restrictions on who could participate, looks wouldn't matter (and if you think they don't, I've got some prime beachfront property to sell you), and we wouldn't get such an effort at creating diversity in the top 12. And don't even get me started on the overdramatic spats between the "judges."
I've watched this season since the first episode, and they almost don't need to tamper with voting when there are so many ways to manipulate the vote through what they show us. Have you noticed how we get to hear so, so much about certain contestant's backstories (like Danny of the Dead Wife), and yet with others, we know almost nothing? How the judges seem to inexplicably love certain performances that aren't materially any better than anyone else? Last night, Anoop probably did one of the better vocal performances of the night, and while he got love for it, the worship he receives isn't anywhere close to what Danny and Adam get--and yet his voice isn't signicantly better or worse than them. The real difference is that Anoop doesn't have personal tragedy or a bunch of romantic photos with his boyfriend to add to his appeal. (Ok, so maybe the photos don't really help Adam. Based on the Clay Aiken experience, teen girls who watch AI wouldn't believe a guy was gay if he wore a Gay Pride shirt and started fellating the band while singing "I Will Survive." This is because teenage girls are dumb.)
So, am I outraged? Well, again, we don't know if it's true or not, but to me it's almost a detail that they would manipulate voting. It's not as though they have a super-transparent, one-man-one-vote system anyway. The voting has always been manipulated through how they present the contestants, the speed dialing machines, and so on. And it's not as though AI had a lot of musical credibility with me in the first place. But there is a bit of schadenfreude to the whole scandal that is, of course, thoroughly enjoyable. I guess we like being fooled but don't particularly care to know that we've been fooled.
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