Uberfluff

Good morning.  Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have a new Poor Decisions, where we focus on a streaker who epitomizes the idea of "bad naked."  Enjoy.

Today's Daily Fluff is all about the importance of tuna sandwich compatibility.  Now, some would say that tuna compatability is not nearly as important to a relationship as pizza topping compatibility, and I can certainly see the merit of that point--especially in the case of  couples who don't much care for canned tuna.  But I will maintain that among couples that enjoy both, the tuna sandwich is still the weightier consideration.  After all, there's generally room for compromise when it comes to pizza.  You may not have your ideal slice, having had to leave off the green peppers or anchovies or whatever.  (Someone, somewhere likes anchovies, right?)  But you'll still be left with something that is basically enjoyable.

Tuna, however, is a different matter.  Even the subtlest variations can totally ruin the sandwich.  If you're one of those people who adds curry powder, you're not going to enjoy the compromise result.  No one will, really.  AI know that there are people who like tuna sandwiches with absolutely nothing added to it but mayonnaise and maybe salt, but there's something wrong with that.  I suspect these people are all budding serial killers. 

(Incidentally, my iron clad rules for a proper tuna sandwich?  Use the kind packed in olive oil, and add mayo, salt, pepper, mustard, and onions.  I don't object to a dash of Old Bay seasoning, if you're so inclined, but adding chopped celery is tantamount to an act of war.  My mother used to add celery to stretch the meal--yes, it's part of one's innate Filipino-ness to try to strech a 50-cent can of tuna when one is fairly comfortable financially--and celery in tuna still makes me mad.  It doesn't taste like anything but watery crunch.  The only use for celery is on veggie trays and with buffalo wings.)

Hello!  Today, in addition to a new Daily Fluff, we have a new Fluff Five (featuring five terrible patriotic song ideas).  And if you're catching up on the week, don't forget about the latest Poor Decisions and Second Opinion.  Have a great Fourth of July!

Good morning.  Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have a new Second Opinion, on a woman who is hoping that her husband will embrace her newest fantasy.  (That's about all I can say about it here.)  And if you're catching up, don't forget about the latest Poor Decisions too.

Last night, I managed to catch a few minutes of "The Superstars"--one of those pointless summer airtime fillers.  This one goes all '70's style and pairs up sort-of famous entertainment types with professional athletes in a sort-of athletic contest.  The fact that I only watched about 12 minutes of the 90 minute show should tell you all that you need to know.  It wasn't terrible.  It just wasn't as entertaining as the alternatives.

The problem, I think, is two-fold.  Part of it is the official celebrity boot-licking stance that seems de rigeur in a big chunk of our culture.  So the competition has the be staged in all sorts of ways that makes everyone feel good about themselves.  Instead of a Pros vs Joes showdown, the teams are one celebrity and one athlete, so what we're really doing is watching retired athletes compete with various levels of handicap.  And so that we can get a mix of stars, they try way hard to balance the teams, giving the athletic Julio Iglesias a partner in Brandi Chastain, while saddling Terrell Owens with some stick figure "supermodel."   Half the time, I couldn't identify the celebrity if my life depended on it--after all, once cute actress/model/singer is very much like another.  Who can keep up?  Of course, giant chunks of time are taken up with dull "post game" interviews, where we get the standard, "Oh isn't this fun, we're going to do our best to win," blather.  In the end, the only thing to hold our interest is watching the trash talking between Owens and Robert Horry.

Of course, there's very little excitement in trying to guess whether Lisa Leslie is a better long-jumper than Bodhi Miller.  I wish they'd accepted the fact that it's not too hard to rank the relative abilities of the star athletes, and turned it into more of a competition between the "star entertainers," with the athletes serving as a kind of general opponent.  (Yes, like Pros vs Joes.)  That way, it wouldn't seem so contrived, and I'm sure that the producers could have still figured out a way to make everyone spend most of the time in a bathing suit.

Good morning.  Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have a new Poor Decisions, featuring the t-shirt that fools no one.  Enjoy.