Microbano

Steagle Colbeagle, Plucked

2006-10-16T09:57:00.000-04:00

A few weeks back, the citizen/viewers of The Colbert Report used that most American of democratic traditions - ballot stuffing - to name the new mascot of the Ontario Hockey League's (OHL) Saginaw Spirit "Steagle Colbeagle the Eagle". The stuffing season was both inspiring and successful, igniting a 6-game Spirit winning streak (including a three-game weekend road trip that The Spirit swept - after Colbert had called it on Thursday's show). However, I recently visited The Spirit site and noticed that former #1 mascot Sammy Spirit has his head shot on the Front Office page. But what's this? Steagle Colbeagle is nowhere to be seen.

But it doesn't stop there. Over at the Spirit Kid's Club, the operation is still known as "Sammy's Spirit Kid's Club" despite Steagle having been designed, both in physique and temperment, to appeal to the pre-teen crowd.

Colbert, a southerner, appears to be behind the Spirit. But these 'oversights' have me thinking that perhaps, the whole "Steagle" affair is nothing more than a cynical attempt by the Hollywood hype machine to capitalize on the popularity of Saginaw Spirit hockey.

I wait to be proven wrong.

F1 Champions! They're Just Like Us!

2006-10-04T13:24:00.000-04:00

TSN, reporting on the news that Jacques Villeneuve is "coming for you Ricky Bobby" laid bare just how far Villeneuve has fallen since the salad days of wiping that fucking smile off Schuey's face:

"Villeneuve and his wife were spotted Tuesday at an Ikea store in Montreal by reporters for La Presse."

Ikea? Ikea.

Was he hoping to save a few sheckels on tea lights? Maybe pick up a few dented Billy bookcases in the as-is?

This is not a fitting end to an F1 career. Nor an auspicious start to one in the land where rubbing is racing. Ikea? It's just so... so... shit. No, it simply won't do. THIS is how Jacques should have decorated this life transition:

1. Get absolutely hammered on Kristal and Natty Light.

2. Go out and kill a large mammal (something endangered, like a whale) with a brutish weapon (a crossbow, or perhaps some dynamite) while screaming drunkenly and at the top of your lungs "soooooooo-WHEEEEEE!"

3. Skin the fucker. Then throw away the entire carcass - save the foreskin and nut sack.

4. Pay poncy, minimalist Euro designer an unconscionable amount of money to craft furniture that looks like it belongs in a prison cell. Make it something obscure - like a vitrine or a pembroke - that NASCAR types wouldn't know whether to put it in the tool shed or the shitter.

5. Upholster said vitrine in said whale foreskin.

5. Hold a press conference announcing the big news whilst lounging - or doing whatever it is that one does on a vitrine - on your vitrine and doing lines of blow off Shania Twain's tits.

It's so SIMPLE - keeping your traditional base happy while appealing to the new audience.

Or, you could just do it from the ball room. Loser.

"A Man Whose Spam Filter Decides Primaries"

2006-09-22T10:00:00.000-04:00

Last night's Colbert Report brought up an interesting kerfuffle from a few months back that allows me pretense to come very late to said kerfuffle.

With this being the Jewish week of atonement - actually the 10 days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kipur, the three-day discrepency surely having something to do with usury - Colbert has installed a hotline to allow various MOTs who have wronged him over the past year to set things straigh with both God and Colbert. Last night, he called out WaPo word doodler Richard Cohen for describing Colbert's performance at the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner thusly:

"Colbert was more than rude. He was a bully."

(Digression - Cohen begins the column by laying out his credentials as a funny man. Richard, you're a Jew. EVERYONE knows you're both smart and funny.)

Unsurprisingly to, well, everyone (yes, you too Richard - see smart and funny, above), calling out Colbert in such a fashion resulted in Cohen being buried under a blog-o-flurry of emails telling him what an enormous testicle he is for holding such an opinion.

So, Cohen did what every blogger would do when surfing 'The Colbert Bump', he published a follow-up shedding heavy on both the volume and vitriol of said emails:

"What to make of all this? First, it's not about Colbert. His show has an audience of about 1 million -- not exactly "American Idol" numbers."

The fact that thirteen year old girls and anyone who would sue Clay Aitken for not being straight most likely don't have a ton of time for political satire appears to be lost on Cohen. But let's be charitable for a moment and presume that Cohen meant to say that The Colbert Report - like The Daily Show and Plum TV and The Newshour - is a media outlet whose social impact cashes checks its ratings don't appear to be able to write.

Had he said that, when he held his laptop to his forehead and pronounced Karnak-style that his bulging inbox meant trouble for the Dems in 2008, it might have made sense. Sort of:

"This spells trouble -- not for Bush or, in 2008, the next GOP presidential candidate, but for Democrats... I have seen this anger before -- back in the Vietnam War era... In this way, they managed to prolong the very war they so hated."

Hmmmm. "What to make of all of this?" Well, for starters, RC shouldn't use the week of atonement to make amends with Colbert; he should use it to make amends with poor Ohio. Sorry buckeyes, from now on, as goes Richard Cohen's inbox so goes the nation.

NOTE - By a strange co-incidence, Cohen also had a Carson theme this week.

2006-08-30T15:24:00.000-04:00

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2006-08-30T15:19:00.000-04:00

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WTC Number Two

2006-07-18T15:49:00.000-04:00

Head over to Paramount Pictures, wait for the main space to scroll through the graphics for Nacho Libre and Barnyard, it'll hold on World Trade Center. Click on it.

I love shit jokes.

Pronger

2006-06-30T07:37:00.000-04:00

I've pulled down the Pronger post. Christie Chorley made a statement denying any connection with the situation. I respect that and have nothing other than the word of a few tangentally connected individuals to confirm that the rumour is true. Consider it retracted. The statement:

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM CHRISTIE CHORLEY

JUNE 29, 2006

ANY RUMORS AND/OR SPECULATION ABOUT MY INVOLVEMENT WITH THE CURRENT CHRIS PRONGER SITUATION IS COMPLETELY, ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT FALSE.

I would appreciate your help in putting an end to my name being linked to this situation, as it is completely WITHOUT ANY MERIT OR FACTUAL BASIS.

Any further slander or defamation can and will result in swift legal action.

Thank you.

Gretzky/Nash and Other Nationals Separated at Birth

2006-05-31T11:40:00.000-04:00

Overheard during last night's Suns/Mavs game four (paraphrased):

Steve Kerr: "You know, the way Nash drives the lane and then finds the cutter slashing to the net is reminiscent of the way Gretzky used to operate in his office behind the net. Dishing out passes to team mates driving to the net."

Kenny the Jet: "Nowitzki's ability to stop and pop the three as a seven footer brings to mind Rohmmel's ability to pivot and reverse a flanking movement at corps strength."

Charles: "Guys, lemme tell you, Boris Diaw is so smooth that he brings to mind, for me anyway, the nutty smoothness of a sliver of foie gras served a la Perigordon - which, as you fellows no doubt know, means perched delicately atop a fresh Bosc pear."

Kerr: "Didier Ilunga-Mbenga? He has the length and elasticity of the rubber plants for which his fellow Congolese were slaughtered for decades."

Sager: "Steve, is it distracting out there on the floor when you stop and think to yourself, Damn, Barbosa looks just like Rivaldo..."

Portuzilia: Futebol, and the Crisis of Ethnic Identity

2006-05-26T13:27:00.000-04:00

It's as cliched as it is possible to be: The World Cup isn't about sport, it is about tribalism. It is about old world vs new; about stallwart Europeans and South Americans vs upstart Asians, Africans and Americans; about ye olde enemy and the new world order. Sides are chosen, colours are flaunted, victories celebrated, defeats mourned, drunkeness encouraged.

In a city like Toronto, without its own surrogate soldiers marching as to war, allegiances are found in the lands of ancestors - or, at the very least, in the lands with a common language. These mercenary decisions are advertised via the now ubiquitous for every playoff series in North America car flags.

Fluttering from the rear of the family station wagon, or as a personalizing touch to a company vehicle, in Toronto these flags mean "My great grandfather was Polish - so from now until the end of the tournament, or until Poland gets ousted, I too am Polish." Of course, the link is often far more precarious than even that - a favourite player, a fondly remembered holiday, as a favour to a local merchant.

As a sports fan, I see these as perfectly legitimate reasons, all. As the holder of an Irish Passport who spent time living in England, I have supported both these sides in international competition - and at alternating tournies, flown their flags. However, there is one flagging scenario I cannot condone, one that I think may be unique to Toronto.

Portugal, for the uninitiated, have had "needs more effort" inscribed on their international football report card forever. The current "golden generation" of Portuguese internationals won a prominent junior tournament and have nothing international to show for all their high-flying, big earning club careers since.

Brazil on the other hand, share only one thing with Portugal on the football field - a language. They win often, with flair and really hot female supporters.

Interesting then, how Toronto's sizable Portuguese population and small Brazilian population seem to reverse proportions just around the time the World Cup comes around.

In fact, just yesterday, I saw a car flying both the Portuguese and the Brazilian flags. I can only assume it will be the standard trooping of the colours, with the Portuguese beating a hasty retreat as they are ignominiously dumped from the tourny.

Again, it's not that I have a problem with supporting more than one team. Only that I think it only right to support only one team at a time.

Mike From Vancouver, I Hate You

2006-05-26T12:41:00.000-04:00

Thanks. Muthafuckah.

Bill Simmons, Why do you Hate Steve Nash so?

2006-05-24T09:54:00.000-04:00

"I hate to keep harping on Steve Nash's faults..." No you don't Bill. And I'll tell you why. You see yourself as a lunch pail, blue collar kind of guy. You say to yourself "I'm not the best writer in the world, hell, I'm not even the best writer to come out of Choate." And right there lies the rub. No, I'm not talking about Edward Albee (Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?, class of 1946) being a better writer than you - I'm talking about the ridiculous, Republican assertion that you are a lunch pail kind of guy. You went to fucking Choate.

Now, what does that have to do with Nash? Who, by the way, also comes from reasonably privledged roots. Simple - in your anti-Nash screeds, you consistently single his contributions out versus other players on the basis of stats. What do you consistently ignore? Those WASP-iest of attributes, fundamentals and intangibles. In Nash's case, it is uncanny court sense, an inate ability to move the chess pieces around the hardwood in his head before they have to be moved for real combined with rock solid free throw shooting and great footwork. In your case, it is that special strain of effortless nonchalance that comes from being exposed, at a formative age, to a broad enough range of influences and references to both appreciate pop culture for the absurd, wonderful universe that it is - and put it in perspective in complete, if run-on, sentences. Just like your readers.

You have a lot in common, you and Steve. Maybe you're two sides of the same tuna sandwich with the crusts cut off. Like Batman, only directed by Ron Howard.

Dear Ferrari Guy Driving Around Yorkville

2006-05-11T11:40:00.000-04:00

Dear Yorkville Ferrari guy,

First off, let me say that I admire you. You are the type of person for whom doors open just in time for you to glide through them. The gather of your trousers breaks just so above expensive driving loafers - an apt choice of footwear, given your Ferrari driving ways. It is for this, and your tuft of white hair sprouting, Nixon-like in a perfect widow's peak above the windscreen (Ferraris do not have wind shields - for those who drive them are not afraid of the wind. In fact, those who drive them are the wind.)

Yes, I admire you. But let me get more to the point you knew was coming - you, pisano, are a complete and utter joke. You pull of the interesting treble of being not only old and rich (if not at least liquid enough to afford to finance a brand new Ferrari) but also looking more 905 than the 407. In fact, I bet that prancing horse of yours has a transponder. In quiet moments with your pederass buddies, you refer to your car as "my ride" don't you? More than likely as you enjoy a cigar. Well, perhaps "enjoy" is the wrong word. If "facade" was a verb, that is what you would be doing to your cigar. Maybe I should just stick with fellate - anyway, I digress.

Yesterday, I was working at a Starbucks on Yorkville avenue and you were driving by. Repeatedly. Word of advice Pusateri's on Bay has valet, OK? Or, you could just line up behind the guy with the "HAKIM 2" Bentley who parks outside Lettieri on Bel Air. At least that guy has the good sense to drive somewhere, and then park. Also, he just looks like he actually owns that car - you? You look like the indie rappers who rent Maybachs for the day, park them in front of the Chateau Marmont and drink ginger ale out of Crystal bottles. Flossin bee-yatch!

Later on yesterday, I went down to King and Spadina and who do I see - but you, cruising by Brassai and Crush and West multiple times. You have the worst luck finding parking! I'm sure you and your purring 12 cylinders support the troops hey motherfucker? But again, I digress. It's not about geopolitics. It's about me helping you not look like such a twat.

So, a simple word of advice to you Ferrari guy: PARK.

An MTV Canada Spot

2006-04-10T14:26:00.000-04:00

A spot that I've been having a flame war about on the ihaveanidea.org forum. You'll see why in the last 30 or so.

http://www.john-doe.nl/mtvcanada/

Fashionista Recruitment Tape

2006-04-06T16:28:00.000-04:00

More from the vaults. Also contributed to Toro as a comic. Fuck'em

Ab Fab Jihad: The Fashionista Recruitment Tape

OPEN: A fuzzy, shaky shot of a swanning Karl Lagerfeld. The backdrop shows a world map, but in a projection that makes LA, NY, London, Paris and Tokyo occupy a HUGE portion of the world. At the corners of the map, out the window we can clearly see he is in Paris.

KARL: “Air kisses! MUHA! MUHA! Now, down to business. Today, the wounds of the fashion forward are deeper than ever.”

Karl recedes to the top right corner in a picture-in-picture effect. In the main frame is a video of beautiful fashion victims running from a burning Wal-Mart to waiting Hummers.

KARL: “The infidels from the flyover lands are following the path of the bridge and tunnel crowd – but there is hope. These brave warriors placed themselves among the hi-carbed, to rid the world of a shipment of twin sets; during Fashion Week no less!”

Karl still in top right. A khakis and runners clad couple going into an Armani Exchange while an uber-fashionable couple look on in disgust.

KARL: “Still, in spite of the sacrifices of these great warriors, the holy names are spit upon. Forgive me Coco, I wash my hands of these brand equity diluters, these business casual infidels.”

Karl still top right. A Sarah Jessica Parker Gap commercial plays

KARL: “Are Fashion Editors and Stylists blind to the desecration of “she who made holy the Jimmy Choo” by the Great khaki-selling Satan? And have you ever wondered if they cast only tiny models so that she looks, like, normal size?”

Back to Karl in front of backdrop.

KARL: “How did we get here? I quote Billy Joel when I say:

Don't you know about the new fashion honey,
All you need are looks and a whole lotta money.

Plus ça change et plus c'est la même chose.”

Karl back up to right corner. At the same time, in the main image we follow Karl around the Fashionista Training Camp – the first image is of Karl watching the “obstacle course” training exercise. Except instead of hooded jihadists swinging from the monkey bars in the middle of the afghan wilderness, it is buff male model clones, stripped to the waist, wearing only white linen trousers with the cuffs rolled-up swinging from monkey bars bedecked with great white lengths of gauzy fabric blowing in the wind in what is clearly South Beach.

KARL: “But hear me know when I say we can take back The Meat Packing District, we expel the Mid-West from the rive gauche! We each have it in us! Fashionistas, prepare for the Ab Fab Jihad! Listen to the Brazilian Girls on your iPod Nanos, do a thousand crunches and then, and only then, exfoliate!”

Karl still in top right. In main image, Karl surveys a catwalk set up in the sand, female models on the catwalk handle obviously fake guns in the same comically awkward fashion that the models in the Robert Palmer “Addicted to Love” video handled their instruments.

KARL: “The great big box retailers will try to stand in your way! But you will blend in – flying commercial, drinking non-vintage Veuve, exercising under the pretense of ‘feeling good’ – but when the time comes…”

Cut back to Karl one-shot, but now standing next to Jeanie Becker

Karl: “…The minister of information will tell you when and where to strike.”
Jeanie: “Asalamalakum”

Great Moments in Hip Hop Home Decor

2006-04-06T08:59:00.000-04:00

A comic concept that I originally came up with for Toro. They didn't buy it , so I didn't get hooked up with an illustrator, so it didn't get made. If anyone knows an illustrator who's into hip hop who would be interested in doing this piece for shits & giggles (and as possible placement somewhere - I would love to get in touch with someone at The Source etc if and when they do a home issue), let me know. I suppose asking if anyone knows an illustrator who's into hip hop is like asking if anyone knows a Systems Administrator who's into Star Wars, so let me rephrase: If anyone knows an illustrator who's into doing this panel for shits, giggles and possible exposure, let me know.

This piece would be two pages, maybe a total of 8 panels. There would have to be some back and forth as to references that were too obscure. These are the initial riffs on the topic, but quite literally, I got a million of them. As sad as that sounds.

GREAT MOMENTS IN HIP HOP DÉCOR

Rap stars have proven themselves to be so much more than simply lyrical gangsters. MCs now run major record labels, headline Hollywood blockbusters, and are the toast of the runways of Paris and Milan. What’s next for the mighty MC? That last, untapped branch of brand extension – home décor. As these snapshots prove, the R&D is already done.

PANEL 1 - "The Jay-Z Boy"

TEXT

2004: Shawn Carter, dissatisfied with the comfort levels offered by traditional reclining loungers, decides to build his own. The result? He’s got 99 problems, lumbar support ain’t one.

DIALOGUE

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout!”

ILLUSTRATION

Jay-Z kicking back in tasteful surroundings on a big pimpin’ recliner, all Gucci print fabric, gleaming chrome and flat screen television.

PANEL 2 - "The Ba-dunk-a-dunk-bunk"

TEXT

1985 – Long before he waded into the eye of a cultural tornado with 1992’s “Baby Got Back”, Sir Mix-A-Lot had his eye on both the future and on the swing of that back porch. Witness his Independent Study Project for his shop elective at Seattle’s Cliffton High.

DIALOGUE

“You see, the junk in the trunk runs in the family. This is a sleeping arrangement designed with the family carrying the booty gene in mind!”

ILLUSTRATION

Mix-A-Lot, dressed in the same ridiculous pirate-like get up from his Baby Got Back days only younger and much thinner, presenting a bunk bed with hugely exaggerated pear shaped beds to a panel of stern looking teacher types.

PANEL 3 - "3rd Bassinet"

TEXT

1993 – By ’93, white rap trailblazers 3rd Bass had begun their inexorable fall into hip hop’s footnotes. The inauspicious debut of their children’s furniture line at that year’s New York Design Showcase seemed like just another hearty serving of wackness from a pair of Vanilla Icicles. Oh, what could have been were the street ready for this level of script flipping.

DIALOGUE

Woman designer-type:“I like it – modern, reflecting modern pretensions.”
Vanilla Ice type: “Yo bee-yatch, dat shit is wiggedty wiggedty wiggedty wack!”

ILLUSTRATION

Woman designey-type (think Nina Libeskind) talking to Vanilla Ice type while looking at a blingy bassinet up on an auto-show like turntable (possibly with booth babes).

PANEL 4 - "The Suge Knigtable"

TEXT

1999 – The infamous capo of the Death Row record label, Marion “Suge” Knight is imprisoned on racketeering and fraud charges. While in the joint, members of Knight’s Piru Blood gang set send him the red bandanas they wore while performing retributive 187s for him – he uses the bandanas to build an elevated end table for his bunk – and a gangsta design classic is born.

DIALOGUE

“Riz-ed next to my biz-ead.”

ILLUSTRATION

Prison cell, upper bunk, Suge lies spread out with a high red nightable coming up to meet him.

PANEL 5 - "Lil’ Bow Haus"

TEXT

1999 – This tiny, perfect modernist whose horrible experiences growing up in the hood led to a new consciousness influenced strongly by design, architecture and art forgoes the usual McMansion and Hummer reward of his first record contract in favour of a two-year internship in design in Dessau, Germany.

DIALOGUE

“I TOLD y'all! Goin’ to the Source Awards ain’ creatin’ no aesthetic relevance to da requirements of DIS HERE time!”

ILLUSTRATION

Lil’ Bow Wow talking to agent type in an austere design workshop, sitting at a drafting table, explaining why he can’t attend.

PANEL 6 - "Fuck Da Plisse"

TEXT

1990 – In response to repeated spillings from his pimp cup, a young Snoop Dogg chooses to go with a matt twill on his next love seat.

DIALOGUE

“I hate this puckered-ass silk shit!”

ILLUSTRATION

Snoop, peeping a Louis XIV love seat that looks stained and abused – holding pimp cup.

OTHERS

Lil’ Jon Bathroom Accessories
A Drawer Called Chest
Arrested (Real Estate) Development
De La Sofa
Daybed La Soul
Skee-Lowboy
Digital Underpad
Ice Cube Maker
Inspectah Deck Builder
LL Cool Chaise
MC Solaarium
Muggs Ruggs
Pete Rock Garden
Third Bassboard
Stretch Armoire
The Notorious M.D.F.
Ton Louis XIV
The Lean Backsplash

Perhaps Their Target Market Thinks 9/11 is Where Slurpees Come From

2006-03-29T10:50:00.000-05:00

So, I'm smoking crack and watching American Idol last night on CTV (A Canadian national Network that picks up the Fox show and has taken on the Canadian rights for MTV) when on comes an ad for the newly relaunched MTV Canada. It consists of various shots of downtown Toronto, including wide skyline shots, and legions of people falling from the sky in all of them. Yes, people falling out of the sky flying past the WTC-like First Canadian Place and splatting into the ground. I can't find screen grabs of the spot in question, but believe me when I tell you it was horrific. If intentional, doubly so.

Client: "But. Won't people kind of immediately think 9/11?"
CD: "Fuck 9/11! That's AMERICA, this is Canada - and hey, this is MTV, our target wasn't even ALIVE for it."
Client: "Yea, you're right. Fuck 9/11. Can I get a cappucino?"
CD: "Sure can! Would you like a blow job with that?"

Clearly, Joakim Noah's Mother knows how to handle the rock

2006-03-29T09:51:00.000-05:00

Alternate title: Joakim Noah's mother gets my rocks off.

Time Goes By... So Slowly

2006-03-23T09:20:00.000-05:00

One would expect all the weighty issues of the day to be discussed on the Tourettes Guy forums, and clearly one is not disappointed. Next up, "Would your lifestyle change if you became a billionaire overnight?"

Unknown Black Male

2006-03-22T14:58:00.000-05:00

Imagine if everything you've ever known, everyone you've ever loved, every trade you've ever green-lighted disappeared in an instant? How would your family react to you? Would you know how to carry on?

This is the story of Isiah Thomas. A former NBA great, the only way he knows this now is through having watched videotaped interviews of himself comparing himself with Larry, Magic and Michael. One day, in the early summer of 2006, he walked into the psychiatric ward of New York Methodist Hospital. Most of the people there that day responded with an overwhelming sense of relief, grateful that the man known as "Zeke" had finally decided to have himself committed. But soon, it became clear that Isiah had no idea who he was and had no identification. He made wild claims of having been attacked by a tiny Jewish man in tortoise shell glasses with a clipboard, but he could remember nothing of his life before that point. The only identifying feature he had on his person was a backpack containing the telephone number of Bill "Sports Guy" Simmons.

And it here that Mr. Thomas' incredible story gets really, really incredibly story-ish. You see, for the past what seems like three decades, Mr. Thomas had been the General Manager of a New York City area professional basketball team. He was incredibly well compensated for his work, was nationally famous and even sometimes took on stints as a television analyst despite being completely hopeless at this easiest of all jobs. He remembered most of this after showing up at NYMH that day in 2006 - but what he didn't remember was most interesting of all.

It was as though the colossally shit trades he had concocted during his tenure as Knicks GM had never happened. Whether he was in the VIP at Scores or simply "flossing", Isiah would simply answer "F**K you talkin' bout?" when asked about his astounding managerial prowess. When he returned to work at Madison Square Garden and saw Steve Francis there, he demanded that the petulant millionaire leave immediately. While he acknowledged Stephon Marbury's presence, he would wonder aloud "what idiot brought that a**hole here?"

All this raised the obvious question - did Zeke simply fabricate the "amnesia" in order to excuse himself from the mess he had made of the team. Suspicions were raised when he heard of the sexual harassment lawsuit leveled against him by a former employee and he responded "I wouldn't hit that shit with a baseball bat."

Does he forget? Is he lying? Will he remember being fired from an NBA team one last time? Does anyone in NYC still care? These are the questions Zeke will be asking himself. The question is, will he remember how he should answer them?

So, the members of City High walk into a talent agent's office...

2006-03-21T15:11:00.000-05:00

Finally saw The Aristocrats last night. The hype? It is being believed. However, one comic's appearence in the film does beg a question that has been asked by people hip enough to get commenters privledges on Gawker - is F-Troop's Larry Storch related to chav hip hop producer Scott Storch? Please, for the love of God, someone answer the fucking question - it would go a long way towards analyzing Larry's particular telling of the incest-laden joke.

When You're Given Dogshit, Make Dogshit-aide!

2006-03-17T13:28:00.000-05:00

"Dogshit", unlike "fuck", "cunt" or just plain "shit", is one of those words that rarely has a positive connotation (NB - I realize that entire women's studies departments have been built on this sort of analysis of "cunt", I'm not sure I could add anything to that.). People refer to the skiing conditions as dogshit, or as invective when referring to a film or a restaurant meal or any number of things. However, just the other day, while walking my dog I found a positive spin if not on the word dogshit than on its act of creation.

Simply put, spending a few crucial minutes a day - before bed or before coffee - forced to WAIT for a dog to take a shit teaches a unique brand of humility. You are suspending your day waiting for, wait for it, dogshit. Now, if that does not make you realize your place in the universe, and be happy for it, than you truly are dogshit.

NCAA Update: Wait! I think I smell something!

2006-03-16T14:01:00.000-05:00

News from San Diego has the NCAA tournament first-round games in San Diego postponed because a bomb-sniffing dog detected a problem in a... wait for it... hot dog cart.

In other news, Bungalow 8 was evacuated last night when a bomb-sniffing Lindsay Lohan was heard to be hot on the trail of something in the women's washroom.

Think "Clue" meets "Catcher in the Rye"

2006-03-14T12:11:00.000-05:00

They've finally gone and done it. Yes, Gawker has introduced Gawker Stalker Maps. The pairing up of their reader generated celebrity sightings feature Gawker Stalker with the pinpoint accuracy of Google Maps creates a truly Chapmanesque tool for the celebrity age.

Usually, I'm the first person to snicker when celebrities cry foul over "invasions of privacy". It is part of the job. You trade anonymity for a life of glamour, leisure and possibly wealth. To my ears, celebrities whining about their visibility is tantamount to trust fund kids whining about their families. With one key difference - trust fund kids could, if so inclined, renounce their fortune and avoid all contact with the source of their anger (and funds). Celebrities aren't given this opportunity. Ever. Witness the inclusion of Sinbad in the same above Gawker Stalker Maps. Not that I think Sinbad's fall from grace was by choice, but I'm not sure his recent career arc justifies his being harassed as he buys Jeri Curl.

In short, I think this goes too far. Could even severely defective people have drawn up this movement history all on their own before the two data streams necessary to accomplish it were paired up? Of course they could. However, Gawker does have SOME responsibility when it comes to what someone MAY do with the information it publishes. It is fitting then, that in addition to Sinbad, one inclusion in the inaugural edition of Gawker Stalker Maps is one Yoko Ono, spotted at 18 Wooster Street, March 10 @ 8 PM. Alone, presumably.

PS - Gawker-ites, let me be the first to congratulate you on your very own episode of Law & Order.

2+2=It Depends On Who You Believe

2006-03-09T11:37:00.000-05:00

Dateline, Tuesday. SI.com Releases excerpts from the Barry Bonds doping expose "Game of Shadows". The exhaustive account of everything Bonds stuck in his ass or under his tongue from the people who stuck it there is, well, kind of irrefutable. But, as the kids at Deadspin so ably point out, the "baseball fraternity" is living up to its name. The "it depends on who you believe" argument is gaining steam - everyone from Larry Walker to Bonds' teammates have been quoted as such. Deadspin equates it to creationism; interesting but, I feel, not enough. No, I think it's more like the basic 2+2=5 school of arithmetic. Creationism at least does us the service of offering a whole bucketload of absolute nonsense in response; the MLB Mittsa Nostra simply shrugs its shoulders and employs the infamous (both in the rhetorical and musical senses) "Shaggy defense" of, It Wasn't Me.

With that in mind, I have here (in the words of Tom Lehrer) a few modest examples of possible parallel defenses to other volumes of irrefutable evidence:

The Holocaust: "Well, I mean, those six to ten million people could come back at any time. Maybe they stepped out to buy some smokes. Perhaps they weren't so happy being shunted off into various 'Jewish ghettos' across Europe. And who put them there - you ever think of that?"

2+2=5: "It really depends on what your definition of 'two-ism' is" (apologies to Ricky Gervais)

The Death of Michael Hutchence: "If you ask his parents, they'll tell you that even as a boy he really loved quality leather goods."

Black and White: "I think perhaps if you asked Pink about that, you might get a different answer smart guy."

Spy vs Spy: "What, me worry?"

An Open Letter to the Producers of "Bonds on Bonds"

2006-03-08T11:43:00.000-05:00

From: Alexander Churchill
To: ESPN and Tollin/Robbins Productions
CC: rob.tobias@espn.com
jmcintosh@mprm.com
vizcarra@barrybonds.com
jb@barrybonds.com

Subject: Bonds on Bonds

Wednesday, March 8 2006

This project, as you know it, is of course dead. But please, please, please, for the love of the Supreme Court tell me that you have the contractual leverage to keep the cameras rolling. There is not a syringe on earth with the necessary gauge to inject a sensible thought into BB's head; but if there were, here is the injection I would formulate:

Barry, continue filming "Bonds on Bonds" through this, your entrance into end times. Making what would be the best sports movie ever made is your only shot at redemption. It would be like capturing the precise moment that a young Pete Rose felt the rush of winning all the peanuts at poker; or putting a swing & tilt lens on the second that OJ realized that he was the only person on earth who mattered. If we could have taken those moments and set them to a Danny Elfman soundtrack, their downfalls would surely have been averted. It is not too late for you. Put your faith in film and let ESPN Original Entertainment be your salvation. The makers of "Arli$$", "Cold Pizza" and "Radio" may seem to be unlikely sponsors of your epiphany, but they have won a Peabody for a lesser-known project. Trust them, they know what they do.

Or, something along those lines. I know that any sensible idea (with at least an iteration of anything even remotely resembling truth) may not survive the toxic environment of Barry's brain (to say nothing of the long, arduous journey through his abnormally thick melon), but I think it's worth a shot. Perhaps Conte could help with the delivery of this concept. I'm guessing he's available.

Yours,

Alex Churchill

I thought only Larry King could get this kind of exclusive

2006-03-07T14:50:00.000-05:00

They were going to have Christopher as well, but he couldn't tear himself away from his now daily routine of torturing horses.

Spinal Tapping

2006-03-07T13:45:00.000-05:00

I have a dream. It is a dream of a wine-type brand for the upwardly mobile image-conscious former hipster graduating from west coast hydro to Pinot. It will be called "Gränd Crü" and the logo will rip off the Spinal Tap logo. Precisely what will be produced is another matter altogether.

The SEC Could Make the FCC Seem Like Stern's BFFL

2006-03-01T11:21:00.000-05:00

CBS suing Howard Stern over the manner in which he used CBS airwaves to promote his moving from the "terrestrial" airwaves to satellite radio is interesting in more ways than simply the usual vicarious thrill one gets from watching ridiculously rich, pampered people use their considerable charisma (in the case of Stern) and their considerable corporate clout (in the case of CBS chief Les Moonves) to smear one another.

I'm far from an expert in securities law, but it would seem to me that if there is any merit whatsoever in the CBS claim then it may be a matter of interest to Eliot Spitzer or the SEC. The "acceleration clause" by which Stern would recieve 34 million Sirius shares, $220 million worth, if his new program reached a certain subscriber level at a date as early as this year is both at the heart of the CBS claim and what may be of interest to regulators.

Is a media product the size of Howie obliged to inform all concerned what his incentive and ownership position is in any new venture? If not, why not? If the claims are valid, Stern could have bigger problems than simply just the CBS suit.

Manute 911

2006-02-28T09:53:00.000-05:00

In recent months, perhaps even years, former NBA freak show Manute Bol has been canonized by a sporting press looking for a hero. While the 7 foot 7 native of the Sudan seems to have been tireless in his pursuit of aid and assistance for Darfur and his homeland in general, it always struck me as odd that Bol celebrity boxing, taking a shift for a minor-league hockey club and even taking a turn as a jockey has bee acclaimed as a great man doing great things. Fine, so not every crusader can accomplish the Bono-esque, telling George W Bush to fuck off one moment and hobnobbing with the Davos ecognescenti the next. However, I was surprised when I stumbled upon the story of Bol's domestic incident this morning. I was immediately reminded of that old Mark Eaton commercial wherein the ugliest big man in the long, horrid history of ugly big men stared down long and hard into the camera and said something along the lines of "You intimidated by me? Imagine how your kids feel." That having been said, Bol isn't that intimidating; also, if his wife is also a Dinka, I'm sure she's 6'6" herself. I was secondarily kind of spooked. I thought, "Isn't he one of the good guys? I mean, I've read so much about what he's done for the internally displaced in Darfur." Or at least, that's what I read.

Levon Likes His Money

2006-02-27T12:57:00.000-05:00

Makes a lot they say. While "separated at birth" is not usually my thing (neither, quite clearly is photoshop), I couldn't help but notice the physical similarities between American Idol contestant Taylor Hicks and Mark Cuban. Yes, yes I'm sure more people watched Hicks perform Elton John's "Levon" last week than the entire run of "The Benefactor". I'm guessing that Cuban is over it. However, I'm not sure Cube wouldn't do well to lay off the Grecian Formula. When streaks of grey lend gravitas to an American Idol contestant, think what they could do for a billionaire.

The Stanley Pimp Cup

2006-02-23T11:49:00.000-05:00

This morning I had the rare pleasure of spending a few hours stuck in traffic behind the wheel of my wife's automobile. I find this enjoyable because I so rarely drive (subway and cycle) and it gives me a chance to buy a coffee, listen to talk radio and enjoy the positively PoPoZao-ish effects of the seat heaters. But I digress. This morning, as my hind quarters bubbled away atop their leather-clad chaffing dish, Kevin Sylvester of CBC's Olympic Report reported on the "kvetching" over the loss yesterday of the Canadian Men's Olympic Hockey team. Yes, "kvetching" over a loss in a hockey tournament. Now, I realize that if Ellis Island had been in Canada, the Great Hall would have frequently and spontainiously exploded into games of ball hockey. However, the oft-cited Canadianism that hockey is the only thing that binds a nation of immigrants together aside, Yiddish expressions and hockey go together about as well as gefiltafish and maple syrup. Until now.

Sylvester's innovation led me to thinking - why not place ethnicisms in other winter olympic contexts? "Fusion" has long been the buzzword in architecture, music and cuisine, why not the XX winter games? Thank you Kevin Sylvester, for bringing the schtetel to centre ice - look what I for one think you have started:

"Johnny Weir Muthafucka! What!"

"Gretzky, when asked about reports of divisions within the team resulting from both the Todd Burtuzzi lawsuit and his own gambling troubles responded with 'Well, there has been not just one, but a number of meshuggede growing in the dressing room.'"

"This year, the Norweigan nordic delegation has decided to compete with grillz IN."

"For our Muslim friends, Oval Lingotto comes complete with east-facing prayer rooms."

"And, finally, I will remind all competitors that throwing gang signs from the 'kiss & cry' is stictly forbidden by the ISU."

"Push Back"

2006-02-22T14:04:00.000-05:00

Earlier today, I got an email from a co-worker asking me to "please don't push back on this". My ideal reply to this missive would be to light it on fire and send it along with a piece of dog shit as an attachment. Initially, I thought the use of the term "push back" alone was enough to send me running to the nearest off-leash area. But upon further reflection, I realized that it was actually the fact that said co-worker had in effect said "No matter how wrong I may be on this, I don't want your opinion. In fact, I can't even be bothered to hear it expressed."

I have finally realized the secret to day job success with this exchange: Do NOT give a shit, dog or otherwise. "Push back" is for troublemakers and people who wish to obfuscate the meaning of the word "opinion". Do NOT make yourself conspicuous by (to paraphrase Enron) asking why? End.

Gawker Stalker: Now Boring as Fuck

2006-02-21T17:19:00.000-05:00

It was an affair to remember. It was way back in (insert hip, early adopter date relative to Gawker's date of inception) when I first stumbled onto Gawker. This was a celebrity site with a difference. It practiced a cruel to be kind version of idolatry with respect to the celebrities it by turns worshipped and deplored. It turned the unique trick of distancing itself from its readership (unless you are happened to be a 212 hipster, and then you were REALLY hated) and its subjects. Not Vanity Fair, not Inside E, not The Enquirer, none of them could claim that. To top it all off, it wasn't really celebriporn - of course not, that's for flyovers - no, it was a site dedicated to "media". No explanation necessary, if you don't get it, you didn't know who Nan Talese was before James Frey went on Oprah a second time.

But the coup de gras was The Gawker Stalker - random pieces of celebrity sighting floatsam sent in to tips@gawker.com and published almost as written. Honestly, for a long, long time I would breathlessly await the latest word of Tony Danza at Bungalow 8 and the Olsen twins walking out of Starbucks. As a former Megalopolis dweller moved back to the hinterland, it made me feel as though I was back in my old seat on the fringe of the international party set.

Why then does it now seem so fucking ridiculous? Gridskipper, a corporate sibling of Gawker, does an "International" version of the feature with Jim Carey popping up in hotels in Lexington KY and TomKat in bistros in Shanghai. I'm sure other examples are floating around. However, to be honest, I've lost that lovin' feeling. Does that make me provincial? Or provcencal? One thing it doesn't make me is standing in line outside Bungalow 8.

Shaming His Cuntry In the Process

2006-02-14T13:28:00.000-05:00

Sad, but Belarussian nordic skier Sergei Dolidovich has been banned from the Turin Olympics. He should bury his head in a moist, wet hole in shame.

Olympic Spirit

2006-02-14T09:27:00.000-05:00

Yes, every two years, I go looking for the little things that make the Olympics different from other big sporting events. Gaudy ceremonies? Nope, halftime shows pretty much do the same thing. Playing "for the love of the game"? The frozen four and the final four (with the odd exception of "playing for the love of a shoe contract") pretty much do that. How about giving your primary competition on-the-fly equipment assistance in the middle of the finals? Uhhh, something tells me that if someone broke a stick in a Minnesota vs Harvard hockey game that the only opposing piece of lumber they could hope to get is one across the back of the neck. However, in this morning's nordic team sprint event final, when Canada's Sarah Renner broke a pole - dropping 2.4 seconds and from first to forth - from the sidelines one of the Norwegian coaches threw her a replacement. The Canadian team of Renner and Beckie Scott then proceeded to climb back through the ranks, passing those same Norwegians en route - thereby knocking them off the podium - to take silver.

Sappy? Yes. Representative of everything that goes on at the Olympics? Ahhh, no. Olympian? Undoubtedly. Of course, here in Canada, not a single press outlet has mentioned or quoted the Norwegian coach.

PS - Beckie Scott in and of herself is a great story. At Salt Lake (and for two years afterwards) two doping bans took her from 3rd to 1st in the individual pursuit. She received her gold medal in Vancouver in 2004. Too bad she didn't get to hear the anthem here.

Olympic Anthems

2006-02-13T16:54:00.000-05:00

Yes, Olympic Mascots are very strange. They all seem to be some sort of country cousin to Youppi. However, they all seem fairly innocuous. From stuffed cat-like things to stuffed Nicorettes, they are all firmly in the "Children! Future!" category.

Olympic anthems on the other hand... The latest effort for Turin, can only be described as fascist. Now, I'm not really surprised, given that this is the place where fascism was born and it follows that since fascists every after have copied their architecture, tailoring and fodness for strangely etherial quasi-martial music that the anthem for this games would sound not out of place at a night rally. However, I would think that something by John Tesh would be no less awful and much less frightening. Then again, I remember having the Tesh-composed Calgary '88 theme (which, I believe was called "Love In The Air", which makes me think it could very well have done double duty drawing tourists back to Toronto after the SARS scare) pounded into my head and I'll be damned if I still confuse it and "Roundball Rock". Tesh, fighting fascism.

Daron Rahlves Has Huge Nuts. Errr, Balls.

2006-02-06T15:04:00.000-05:00

While most of the blogosphere is a-titter over the Bode Miller's chest bearing appearance in the new NYT sports circular PLAY on the weekend, the real story is his buddy Daron Rahlves in the same publication showing people that not only does he have ice water in his veins, but also that he is unconcerned, nay amused, that his testicles may one day melt completely off.

Paul's Not. And Don't Call Him Shirley.

2006-01-31T16:20:00.000-05:00

It got lost in the 81 points hype last week, but here's some NBA news worth ass raping someone over - NBA journey and funny man Paul Shirley appears well on his way to challenging Rosie Greer in the "random situations sports figures find themselves in" sweepstakes with word that his NBA promo blog slash Bill Simmons backed ESPN advice column cum look at life in basketball's minor league turned book deal has been picked up as a Fox sitcom pilot. "The 12th Man" for Fox, in Paul's own words:

"It's mostly just a way to examine the ludicrous nature of professional sports from the perspective of a guy who is sort of in between, a liaison between the normal people and professional athletes."

The Shirley character will be named Adam Rump. As in what Shirley sits on. And what black mambas feed on in their native Colorado.

Read more about it hereabouts. Scroll down to "The Producer". That's the best Bob Young of The Arizona Republic could come up with? How about "The (Did Not) Player (Coaches Decision)"? Or "Lead Character in Shirley Sitcom Pilot's Surname is Euphemism For Ass"? Jesus fucking Christ, you would think people worked at The Arizona Republic were second rate hacks or something.

Lying on Oprah

2006-01-27T09:37:00.000-05:00

Big Jim was summoned to the Vice Principal's office yesterday, and while I didn't watch the entire thing, I did see what was posted on youtube. Painful. It reminded me of the time I forged a note from my mother with a typerwriter in grade 5 or 6 and mis-spelt her name. I then proceeded to burst into tears in front of the class. Oprah rectified the infamous Larry King call - but it begs the questions why did it take her so long and is it to her credit that it did?

Anyway, in looking at the Frey stuff on Oprah, I saw a piece she did a week ago on former Family Matters child star cum (sic) porn star Jaimee Foxworth. She was also lying on Oprah about her initiation into porn, but that is neither here nor there. What IS both here and there is the excellent reportage (live blogging just sounds so whiz bangy) that Takeitoutside did of the show. I am now a huge fan of everything Takeitoutsidebitch does. The one thing she fell down on was the facials - which I did see, but won't link to as it's more fun to find them on your own. CHEAT - Foxworth's porn name was "crave". Enjoy.

Yellow Necks

2006-01-23T14:56:00.000-05:00

Thought the overseas content of NASCAR consisted of Copenhagen and the annoying attempts to get a race in the New York metropolitan area? Well, as the above Camry that "looks just like the one in your dealer's showroom" proves, come 2007, the more meta segments of the grandstands at Talladega are going to have to try to navigate their inbred jaws around the words "Tora! Tora! Tora!" as Toyota is launching a Nextel cup team.
Too bad they didn't think of this in the 60s, when they could have made a fiberglass mock-up of the Soviet "Zil on sushi" Toyota Crown sedan to turn left at high speed. Photoshop artists, do your best:

How to Make Snow Brown

2006-01-23T11:36:00.000-05:00

Step 1 - Be on snow.
Step 2 - Shit your pants, as this course worker at the Women's World Cup Downhill in St. Moritz most likely did over the weekend. For some inexplicable reason, he decided to step into the course SOME time after the last racer had gone past him. Right then, Austria's Michaela Dorfmeister narrowly missed defying laws of physics by proving that a solid CAN pass through another solid as she came over a lip at 80 KPH and narrowly missed him. Lucky the only splat was fecal.

Big Jim, Big Problems, via: Gawker

2006-01-23T10:20:00.000-05:00

The recently password protected Big Jim Industries site was made thusly due to "the enormous amount of traffic the site was getting" huh? Not very exciting. How about something a little racier? Something like "rogue agents of Al Qaida posing as fat, toupeed small-town cops, sharpie NY entertainment lawyers and rabid right wing talk show hosts were attempting to use the site as a mind-control device, attempting to lure JF fans and supporters into a nefarious world domination plot that hinged on first fucking and then eating the brains of suburban children." Now THAT's a cause Oprah can get behind.

What's in a Name?

2006-01-20T13:00:00.000-05:00

In the name of being a good husband and good democrat, I downloaded four party platforms for the upcoming Canadian election for my good lady - Conservative, Liberal, NDP and Green. While I have yet to read all of them, I did note one thing - only the Conservatives had locked their PDF so as I could not change the name of it. L'etrange n'est pas? Must check out the Christian Heritage Party and see if they have a similar "thou shalt not change our platform file name in vain" platform.

Footy Players Might Not Need Eyes...

2006-01-19T16:50:00.000-05:00

But you sure as fuck do to see this pitiful "Leftovers" link on Deadspin.

You get postings up on Gawker and Deadspin in the same week, ka-blamo! Then you realize Deadspin posted it just so they wouldn't have to feed it to their dogs! Not Ka-blamo.

Have an Eye

2006-01-19T14:34:00.000-05:00

Northern Ireland and (Scottish Premier League) Hibernian forward Dean Shiels is slated for surgery "within the next few weeks" to have one eye removed. Losing sight in one eye would spell "career ender" for most elite athletes. The difference here being that Sheils has been blind in this soon to be free agent eye since he was eight.

First, to quote Hibernian manager Tony Mowbray, ""What is amazing is that Dean has adapted so fantastically that people who don't know him well have been entirely unaware of this." No shit.

Second, none of the reports I read mentioned whether we were talking about the right eye or the left eye. In the tried and true form of NHL personel, keeping us guessing as to the true nature of the injury - very clever.

Third, one can only assume this will spell the end of article lead-ins like this one:

British TV

2006-01-18T11:27:00.000-05:00

I blame Fawlty Towers. (Full disclosure: again, I haven't watched more than about 10 minutes of it) As soon as John Cleese, the most recognizable of the Pythons, at least in hindsight, shifted gears from existential sketch madness of The Flying Circus into what would be considered a good American sitcom, he made the telecrati in the US think that British television was somehow superior. Prior to that point, the pasty nation was as famous for hour-long specials on cheese making as they were for bad teeth and forward thinking racial policies.

Don't get me wrong, the 10 minutes of Fawlty Towers that I have seen were as enjoyable a 10-minute televiewing interval in my life as many others. But I question whether 10 minutes of FT is more bang per comedy minute than 10 minutes of Sienfeld. Likewise, can Father Ted hold a candle to Arrested Development? The Office to Curb Your Enthusiasm. Jesus, reading that list has made me realize that Father Ted and Sienfeld are the only two of them that I have any amount of experience. That having been said, let's turn away from comedy until such time as I've seen enough of it to pronounce anything.

Drama - now there's something the Brits REALLY suck at. The American heavyweight champions in this category hardly need any introduction - Law & Order, The Sopranos, Six Feet Under - to mention only the ones I've actually seen! Have you SEEN an episode of The Bill? Whimpole? The Avengers? No, neither have I. But then, it's not for no reason at all. Unlike the CSIs, which I hate because they are overwrought and idiotic (and because David Caruso's waist up profile makes my back hurt), I hate the Bill et al because they simply look stupid. I don't need to watch a complete episode to know I don't like them. I've never read Mien Kampfe either, but I suspect ain't exactly Dan Brown - you know what I'm sayin? By the way, I only watched CSIs because once upon a time I lived with someone who would scarcely watch anything else. I did so under duress. Had I had my drothers, we would have been watching Arrested Development, Curb Your Enthusiasm and BOTH versions of The Office.

It's You! Only Completely Disenchanted, Older and Fatter!

2006-01-18T09:37:00.000-05:00

Here's a wonderful way to brighten up the office next holiday season (kicking yourself for not thinking of it for the '05? Me too!) - gift wrap your cubicles, and give them as a gift to yourself. Don't have that much time? Just stuff your head in a plastic stocking for fast-acting cubicle cheer!

Share your own version of hell on NBC's The Office site. Yea, it's not as good as the English version blah blah blah. Well you know what, I've seen about 15 minutes of both of them and I thought the American version was just fine thank you. Let's see the POMs make Deadwood and pull it off.

Next post, I'll explain why English television isn't nearly as good as NPR listeners think it is.

Alvin, Simon and Me Are Mad as Hell!!!

2006-01-17T14:52:00.000-05:00

So, recently I was collared to do some voice work for an ad agency I do some work for from time to time. It was for the Conservative Party of Canada. This spot is particularly interesting. The voice you hear saying "I understand that Paul Martin has been talking about a childcare program since I was 5, I'm 18 now" is mine. However, it has been sped up in order to make my 34 year old tone sound 18-ish. Hilarious. In Canada, even the spin is low budget.

See if you can pick me out of the other spots:
Health Care
Economy
Crime
First person to email me with the correct spots and quotations wins the first batch of my previously mentioned Cafe Press schwag, and some swamp land in Florida.

PS - Pssst, these weren't actually man on the streets. They were scripted.

Heavy Meta

2006-01-17T10:17:00.000-05:00

Picture an old-school barbershop. The kind with mirrors on opposing walls so when you were getting a trim, you would see an infinitely repeating image of your viewpoint that would form a tunnel - each reflection appearing inside the other. The only thing that would be partially obscured was the point of being there in the first place - your head. An overly florid explanation of the above posting of the above posting on Gawker. With all this traffic coming in over this, I'll be fucked if I STILL haven't got my Cafe Press store up and running.

PS - It's MICRObano cocksuckers. MACRObano implies proportions well beyond my Cafe Press mugless self.

PPS - In keeping with my own efforts to be whatever James Frey said he was being, yes, I DID send the original posting to Gawker my damn self. What of it punk?

Fuck The Bullshit, Internet Technologies Tame Truculent Devotees

2006-01-16T16:08:00.000-05:00

In keeping with James Frey's policy of being open and honest, his personal site - bigjimindustries.com - is now password protected.

Already tried - UN: HoldOn PW: FTBSITTTD, no luck.

Six Million Schtetel Pieces?

2006-01-16T15:57:00.000-05:00

Oprah's latest book club choice? An autobiography that was originally published as a novel. Seems like not a wonderful choice given recent events. Given that the book is Elie Wiesel's Holocaust memoir "Night" it seems, well, kind of stupid. What's wrong with Snow Falling on Cedars or Middlemarch?

One Postsecret We Most Likely Won't be Seeing

2006-01-13T14:10:00.000-05:00

Then again, not really a secret anymore. Now, if The Smoking Gun guys could prove the veracity of Postsecrets, that would be something. Something impressive. Not simply something. Because everything is that.

A Million Little Pieces of Turd

2006-01-12T17:44:00.000-05:00

Hindsight by exclusion. I didn't read A Million Little Pieces. Now, I'm not sure whether I should, or I shouldn't. This decision is becoming easier and easier the more exerpts from it that I pick up by the osmosis of being addicted to this story. I read the original and it's exerpts of fat, doughnut eating small town cops and bad ass bravado; I read pieces in Slate outlining how addicts could or should or may react to it and how they should or may have seen the fraud in process and heard reactions from my (as far as I can tell) non-addict friends in addition to reading a billion other stories about the fraud and Oprah and Larry King and on and on and on. The question is being asked - how did he fool everyone for so long? And it is a great question. Primarily because this book is a raging piece of shit, judging by the exerpts. In true Frey-ian style, I am so fucking smart that if I HAD read it, I would have figured that fucking phony out.

When Ricky Met Oscar

2006-01-10T10:09:00.000-05:00

Continuing my recent Ricky Gervais fixation (funny, but I was living in England when The Office first came out and I tried and tried to get into it, but it didn't really take. Of course, I now tell everyone that I saw it when it was on television in England ((though I often say "on telly" because I'm a "pretentious twat")) and don't remember specific plotlines in order to cover up for the fact that I have not in fact seen the series on DVD and have in fact only watched about 15 cumulative minutes of both series and specials; but I can't get enough of the Ricky Gervais, Steve Merchant, Karl Pilkington podcast), I bounced over to rickygervais.com because I was interested in the Channel 4 special "When Ricky Met Larry" wherein Ricky Gervais meets and chats with Larry David. I have yet to find a copy of the program online (bittorrenting seems like such a raging pain in the ass to me - yet another thing that I tell people I do, but in actuality do not, or at least, have done once and now do not do at all), but I did find this picture of the two comedy superstars from Time Out London on rickygervais.com and it appears as though Larry has been going to the same auto body shop as Arnold for his spray tan. Strange, but as you can see from the accompanying illustration (I'm guessing it's from the Time Out index page), this embarrassment of melatonin riches did not go unnoticed by others working on the project. All that having been said, it appears as though Ricky did NOT bring the topic up in conversation with Larry - at least as far as my bittorrentless self could tell from the various UK press accounts of the interview. And no, this is not simply a question of UK/US skin tone contrast - LD looks like a body double in a Bond film. If anyone out there has seen this, please contact me and tell me RG mentions this during their chat.

Ricky Gervais Podcast

2006-01-09T16:43:00.000-05:00

Too late in the game to post this. Too good not to post. Ricky Gervais Podcast. I have been listening from the start. Seriously. I have.

The Wahabists Can Have My Gun...

2006-01-09T16:11:00.000-05:00

... Just as soon as the $7000 in petrodollars that I chuck into my various guzzlers filters down through the Saudi Royal Family.

Sent to me by a friend of me at some ridiculous show in Vegas.

The Basis of "Based"

2006-01-09T15:51:00.000-05:00

My brother, who I love dearly but who is very very odd indeed, often says to people "I'm (or he or she if referring to a third person) based in Toronto." Listening to the Ricky Gervais podcast the other day, I heard Ricky's writing partner Steve Merchant solicit emails by saying "If you're based in the US, Canada or Australia..." Based. Not LIVE IN. BASE. I am BASED here, she is BASED there, he is BASED up his own ass.

People, unlike companies or Goodyear blimps, are not BASED anywhere. They live places.

The End.

ABC News After Peter

2005-12-12T13:28:00.000-05:00

Clearly, they have lost none of their moral or intellectual suasion. This is like the theme of many of the dreaded one-on-one drives to the cottage with my father.

It's Called Jackson's House, What Did They Expect?

2005-12-07T15:10:00.000-05:00

From the looks of it, the child sex scandal at Toronto's Upper Canada College is about to go from really, really bad to holy shit I better start writing a script.

In October 2004, former UCC teacher Doug Brown was found guilty on nine charges of indecent assault on boys at the prestigious Toronto school during the 1970s and early 1980s. While Brown received the bulk of coverage in the Canadian and Toronto media, there were other former UCC masters going on trial for similar offences - including Herb Sommerfield, a former UCC prep math and music teacher charged with molestation. Well, on Monday, Sommerfield was cleared of all charges relating to the case. However, that is where the story just gets interesting.

The scuttlebutt (pun intended) is that the accuser in the Sommerfield case was none other than Douglas John Mackenzie, a UCC graduate currently facing charges in both the US and the UK for numerous child sex and child pornography offences, including having hired a surrogate mother using donated sperm to bring a male child to term for the expressed purpose of furthering his movie making down the line. Again, word around the UCC network is that the former Jackson's House (I couldn't possibly make that up) boy was using the Sommerfield case to keep his name out of the Canadian press and hoped to press on with a civil suit against both Sommerfield and the school in hopes of financing his legal defense in the cases pending against him in the US and the UK. Of course, it seems to have worked as the publication ban in Canada kept his name out of the press until just this week. I was getting bored of Peter Braunstein anyway.

Time Wasting

2005-12-06T16:02:00.000-05:00

For the last, oh, decade or so, the lion's share of my 'professional' life has been spent idly surfing. While this is not a use of my time I am particularly proud of, it has yielded some enjoyable afternoons. Perhaps it is because I fell as though I am spending less and less of my time fucking around that sometimes I don't feel bad when I spend an hour or so at work watching porn.

Where I'm working now, it is simple to do, the risk of getting caught is pretty much nil and it just serves to get me increasingly worked up until such time as I can go home and release it in one way or another. So, to sum up - wasting time reading Gawker bad, wasting time on Pornolizer equally as bad, only not masquerading as anything other.

As It Hizz-appens Nigga!

2005-12-05T11:06:00.000-05:00

In the wake of the retirement of Mary Lou Finlay - non-Canadians move on now - a number of pundits have been bemoaning, or not, the pop-ification of The Corp. In this Saturday's Globe, Kate Taylor did just that, or something like it, in reference to this. My response to Kate, were the online version of her article available to non-subscribers allowing me to recall precisely what she said, would be that The Corp is WAY past saving in that regard. In fact, it has come so far in that regard that Radio One can only be challenged by NY's Hot 97 for hip hop street cred. To wit, some time last week, I heard Mary Lou and Barbara Budd (or one of the two, I can never tell them apart) interviewed some tabloid hack on the topic of Irving "Irv Gotti" Lorenzo's trial for money laundering. Mary Lou, clearly, we hardly knew ye.

Q-Unit

2005-12-02T11:42:00.000-05:00

Mash-ups. From The Grey Album on, they've become THE calling card for struggling producers trying to make their mark. Personally, while I love stuff like this, mash-ups, are for the most part novelty acts. Q-Unit have thrown together 50 Cent and G-Unit with Queen and the cover art alone is worth the download. Get ahold of it before the C&Ds start arriving wherever in The Netherlands this stuff is cranked out of.

"Golfingerrrr! He Loves Goooldddd... Yuck."

2005-12-01T09:54:00.000-05:00

After having been sent here by these assholes to look at this, I stumbled over the pictured oddity. While it looks like something from a Ministry of Sound album cover, it is in fact a set of three gold pills designed to be ingested with the expressed intent of making your shit sparkle. And all this for a mere $275 USD. And to think Gawker was happy with a mere ironic coke spoon.

No One Ever Thought to Tell Them!!!!

2005-11-30T11:37:00.000-05:00

No wonder. It would be like telling oatmeal lovers that Wilfred Brimley had died in 1995. Except without the long heroin addiction. What would shakedown street be without the NY Times?

In Stewart's Wake, Print Media Cancelled

2005-10-06T14:21:00.000-04:00

In a turn of events eerily similar to those last year when Jon Stewart's on-air critique of CNN's Crossfire contributed to that program's cancellation, Johan Gutenburg announced today that the print media would cease all operations by the end of 2005.

The surprise announcement comes in the wake of Stewart's appearance at a New York Advertising Week event sponsored by the Magazine Publishers of America. The symposium, titled "Laughing Matters: Magazines Celebrate Humor" was a chance for ad people of all scales to listen to Jim Kelly of Time, Graydon Carter of Vanity Fair, Kate White of Cosmopolitan and Dave Zinczenko of Men's Health chime off about what a wonderful advertising medium magazines are.

The The Daily Show With Jon Stewart Host, the aforementioned Jon Stewart, gave the assembled editors the Tucker Carlson bow tie treatment before storming off, as angry young men do, to collect his rumored $250,000 fee for the engagement.

Given Stewart's history of being able to get things cancelled just by pointing out how sucky they are, it came as no surprise when Johan Gutenburg today announced that the print media will be optioning the whole operation by the conclusion of the 2005 calendar year. The spokesman for the famous printing press family said in a prepared (podcasted) statement today that "...we now see the writing is on the wall, or off the wall if you will... Stewart's reservations with the printed word are both true and funny - perhaps these two concepts are mutually exclusive."

Gutenburg went on to say that all printers, photostat machines and spare Selectric balls brought in to any former publishing establishment would be redeemed for two tickets to a game or the Major League sport of your choice "...just so we can keep these things off the street.."