There are few places where I would rather spend the penultimate day of the year--of the decade--than in New York. Hell, any day is a good one to spend in New York, as far as I'm concerned.
Every time I visit the city, be it for a day or three, I leave feeling as if I have done absolutely nothing, made no dent whatsoever in the unending list of things to do and see. Today was especially frustrating. Being that it was the 30th of December, Manhattan was as packed with people as ever. My parents, sister and I parked in a garage near Times Square in the hopes of finding a not-terribly-insane line at the cut-rate TKTS booth in order to score some tickets to a show. It was not to be, as we were greeted with an easily hour-long wait in the chilly late New York morning. We just decided to walk around for a while, find a noodle place for lunch, walk around some more, have dinner, and make our escape. I am somewhat ashamed to say we hit all the touristy stores along 5th Avenue--Saks, Tiffany, etc. The opulent displays of clothing and jewelry few people will ever be able to afford are a feast for the eyes, but remain the unsatisfying manifestation of one's more ambitious dreams of personal wealth. So, I try not to dwell on the having-not, rather looking forward to the having.
Which brings me to today's highlight: lunch. The Connecticut Family Gavrich dined at Menchanko-Tei, a Japanese noodle spot northeast of Rockefeller Center. If it's a small sea of vegetables, meat, and soba noodles you're after (and you should be after those things if you aren't already), you will be pleased by the ramen varieties at Menchanko-Tei. I enjoyed their Chanpon, a popular dish in Nagasaki with a tawny pork-based broth. Very savory, and a perfect antidote to the cold day. The surprise highlight of the meal, however, were the "tsukemono," or Japanese pickles. A crunch and a taste totally unlike and more complex than their American counterparts.
As you can see, I could go on and on about food, but I won't, at least not right now.
'Til next time.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
"Up in the Air"--Some nice moments
Tonight, I went to see this recent film with my parents. I love being one of the cool kids. In all seriousness, it was a nice time (difficult for it not to be when I'm not the one paying). But enough about my wild and crazy weekend engagements (spoilers follow; you have been warned)...
"Up in the Air" leaves the audience a little bit down in the dumps, certainly moreso than one would predict after seeing the trailer. Clooney plays his familiar sort of role--a rather charmingly misanthropic middle-aged wiseacre. But this is what America loves him for. He turns in the solid performance that we are accustomed to, so that is all well and good. Vera Farmiga ably plays Clooney's fellow perpetual traveler-cum-siren-cum-betrayer, and Anna Kendrick plays the spunky know-it-all who threatens Clooney's way of doing business and precipitates his awakening to his true loneliness. The acting is pretty good in the film. Without going all Roger Ebert on you, Let me just impart some assorted thoughts (musings, even, since that's what we here at TVM do) before sending you on your way.
My favorite aspect of the movie was the periodic inter-generational dialogue that seems to be going on. Kendrick's character arrives in the company fresh-faced and full of new-age ideas but without experience. In one scene, she bemoans her bad fortune for not having found "the one," as her boyfriend has just broken up with her...via text message. Despite her obvious high intelligence, she receives advice from her older associates, whose values still seem relevant. Definitely a nice moment.
I have more to say about generational interaction, but I'll save it for another time (I have to keep you coming back somehow, don't I?
Cheers.
"Up in the Air" leaves the audience a little bit down in the dumps, certainly moreso than one would predict after seeing the trailer. Clooney plays his familiar sort of role--a rather charmingly misanthropic middle-aged wiseacre. But this is what America loves him for. He turns in the solid performance that we are accustomed to, so that is all well and good. Vera Farmiga ably plays Clooney's fellow perpetual traveler-cum-siren-cum-betrayer, and Anna Kendrick plays the spunky know-it-all who threatens Clooney's way of doing business and precipitates his awakening to his true loneliness. The acting is pretty good in the film. Without going all Roger Ebert on you, Let me just impart some assorted thoughts (musings, even, since that's what we here at TVM do) before sending you on your way.
My favorite aspect of the movie was the periodic inter-generational dialogue that seems to be going on. Kendrick's character arrives in the company fresh-faced and full of new-age ideas but without experience. In one scene, she bemoans her bad fortune for not having found "the one," as her boyfriend has just broken up with her...via text message. Despite her obvious high intelligence, she receives advice from her older associates, whose values still seem relevant. Definitely a nice moment.
I have more to say about generational interaction, but I'll save it for another time (I have to keep you coming back somehow, don't I?
Cheers.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
I'm Baaaaaaack
Merry Christmas, dear readers (if there are any of you out there).
I'm making a comeback, after nearly five months off god-knows-where in cyberspace. I'll ease my reentry into the blogosphere with just a little thought-nugget (though I reserve the right to blather on at length at any time, so come early and often henceforth!). Here it is:
I really, really don't want to consider the things Ke$ha did for P. Diddy to convince him to make her famous. Yikes.
Peace for now, ladies and gentlemen.
I'm making a comeback, after nearly five months off god-knows-where in cyberspace. I'll ease my reentry into the blogosphere with just a little thought-nugget (though I reserve the right to blather on at length at any time, so come early and often henceforth!). Here it is:
I really, really don't want to consider the things Ke$ha did for P. Diddy to convince him to make her famous. Yikes.
Peace for now, ladies and gentlemen.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Pandora Picks: Tom Waits
Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I'm making it up to you now by sharing some songs by Tom Waits, who has become one of my very favorite musicians because of Pandora.
Many of you probably know that I have non-conventional musical tastes. Substantive and interesting lyrics are important to me. The lack thereof in recent music (that I have heard) is what causes the vast majority of music I enjoy to be older than I am. Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan are two examples of great songwriters whose lyric mastery overcomes, and is in fact enhanced by, the fact that they don't have conventionally "good" singing voices. They are unique in that characteristic. Tom Waits is yet another example of a truly sublime songwriter whose unusual voice (in this case, very deep and harsh--growling, at times) fits the persona of his songs so well that it makes them all the more real and all the more intriguing. He sings from the perspective of characters who hail from and/or are headed to some pretty low places. The songs they sing through Waits give color to a very shady part of society. They are sinister, good-natured, or simply drunk, but they are nearly always, in my opinion, worth listening to. Here are three Tom Waits Songs I think you might enjoy.
"Georgia Lee"
"Pasties and a G-String"
"Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen)"
These are but three songs I enjoy. "Georgia Lee" and "Tom Traubert's Blues" are quite emotional songs, while "Pasties and a G-String," as the song title suggests, is pretty light-hearted and silly but nonetheless entertaining.
Cheers.
Many of you probably know that I have non-conventional musical tastes. Substantive and interesting lyrics are important to me. The lack thereof in recent music (that I have heard) is what causes the vast majority of music I enjoy to be older than I am. Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan are two examples of great songwriters whose lyric mastery overcomes, and is in fact enhanced by, the fact that they don't have conventionally "good" singing voices. They are unique in that characteristic. Tom Waits is yet another example of a truly sublime songwriter whose unusual voice (in this case, very deep and harsh--growling, at times) fits the persona of his songs so well that it makes them all the more real and all the more intriguing. He sings from the perspective of characters who hail from and/or are headed to some pretty low places. The songs they sing through Waits give color to a very shady part of society. They are sinister, good-natured, or simply drunk, but they are nearly always, in my opinion, worth listening to. Here are three Tom Waits Songs I think you might enjoy.
"Georgia Lee"
"Pasties and a G-String"
"Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen)"
These are but three songs I enjoy. "Georgia Lee" and "Tom Traubert's Blues" are quite emotional songs, while "Pasties and a G-String," as the song title suggests, is pretty light-hearted and silly but nonetheless entertaining.
Cheers.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
The Most Interesting Blog Post in the World
...probably not. I just wanted to say that I have not seen a television commercial campaign that has amused me more than that of Dos Equis, for "The Most Interesting Man in the World." In short, I want to be that man. I know I don't drink beer, but the commercials in this campaign are so compelling that it doesn't even matter to me. See what I mean:
Stay interested, my friends.
Stay interested, my friends.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
A Note
Dear Democratic Party--
We'll see your John Edwards and raise you John Ensign and Mark Sanford. Action to you.
Love (and Lust),
--The Republicans
Pretty shameful for everyone. No wonder people in other countries think Americans are a joke. Look who's representing us.
We'll see your John Edwards and raise you John Ensign and Mark Sanford. Action to you.
Love (and Lust),
--The Republicans
Pretty shameful for everyone. No wonder people in other countries think Americans are a joke. Look who's representing us.
Pandora Picks: Madeleine Peyroux
Many of you may be familiar with Pandora, also referred to as the "Music Genome Project." It is an internet radio website where listeners can customize their own radio stations by artist or song. The Pandora system then chooses music that is similar to that specified. It plays some songs of the specific artist around whom the station is based, but mostly goes into other artists. It's great for people who have grown somewhat weary of their own music collections. For the better part of the last four months, I have listened to one of my stations on Pandora. It's "Leonard Cohen Radio" to which I have added "Artist Seeds" for Bob Dylan, John Prine and Tom Waits.
Every so often I will post about an artist that has come up on one of my Pandora stations whose work might interest you as well. First up is Madeleine Peyroux, whose voice (to me, at least) is a dead ringer for that of Billie Holiday. She reminds me of a less pop-like version of well-liked singer Norah Jones. Two of my favorite songs of hers are:
"Don't Wait Too Long" (This one isn't bad but I prefer the original, not able to be embedded, but found here)
"Blue Alert"
Cheers.
--Tim
Every so often I will post about an artist that has come up on one of my Pandora stations whose work might interest you as well. First up is Madeleine Peyroux, whose voice (to me, at least) is a dead ringer for that of Billie Holiday. She reminds me of a less pop-like version of well-liked singer Norah Jones. Two of my favorite songs of hers are:
"Don't Wait Too Long" (This one isn't bad but I prefer the original, not able to be embedded, but found here)
"Blue Alert"
Cheers.
--Tim
Friday, June 19, 2009
Matters of Respect
I don't normally comment on news items in this blog, but I feel compelled to write briefly on the following news story.
During a hearing in Washington DC on Tuesday, Senator Barbara Boxer (D-CA) was questioning Brigadier General Michael Walsh on the state of the levees that surround New Orleans. General Walsh, being a man well-versed in Army protocol of respect, addressed Sen. Boxer as "ma'am." Even though "ma'am" for women, along with "sir" for men or "Senator" in general is acceptable, Sen. Boxer was not satisfied. Interrupting the General's response, she asked him to address her as "Senator," citing the fact that she'd "worked SO hard to get that title." Naturally, she neglected to do her part in the formality and address the man she was chiding as "General." Meanwhile, none of the other 99 U.S. Senators has ever been known to make such a request. It is a bit disappointing to see someone who represents so many people behave indignantly towards a member of the military, especially one of such high rank.
Cheers.
During a hearing in Washington DC on Tuesday, Senator Barbara Boxer (D-CA) was questioning Brigadier General Michael Walsh on the state of the levees that surround New Orleans. General Walsh, being a man well-versed in Army protocol of respect, addressed Sen. Boxer as "ma'am." Even though "ma'am" for women, along with "sir" for men or "Senator" in general is acceptable, Sen. Boxer was not satisfied. Interrupting the General's response, she asked him to address her as "Senator," citing the fact that she'd "worked SO hard to get that title." Naturally, she neglected to do her part in the formality and address the man she was chiding as "General." Meanwhile, none of the other 99 U.S. Senators has ever been known to make such a request. It is a bit disappointing to see someone who represents so many people behave indignantly towards a member of the military, especially one of such high rank.
Cheers.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I'm Back!
...albeit briefly tonight.
As you all probably know, I am a mildly interested conservative. I realized tonight that there's no better way to clear out a corner of a crowded Apple store in a mall than by finding the demo computer with the biggest screen and promptly engaging Safari b navigating to the Drudge Report or Rush Limbaugh websites. Perhaps someday i will surreptitiously reset the homepage of all the computers in the store to Ann Coulter's blog, just for a laugh.
That's all for tonight. I've realized that I have a better shot at posting with more regularity if I do so briefly.
As you all probably know, I am a mildly interested conservative. I realized tonight that there's no better way to clear out a corner of a crowded Apple store in a mall than by finding the demo computer with the biggest screen and promptly engaging Safari b navigating to the Drudge Report or Rush Limbaugh websites. Perhaps someday i will surreptitiously reset the homepage of all the computers in the store to Ann Coulter's blog, just for a laugh.
That's all for tonight. I've realized that I have a better shot at posting with more regularity if I do so briefly.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Fraternal Return and Internal Return
Nietzsche argued for the idea of "eternal return," a notion that seeks to reconcile the infinity of time with the finiteness of the universe. The mustachioed German philosopher held that time is not linear, but cyclical. Think of the movie "Groundhog Day," where Bill Murray relives the same day over and over again.
It is Alumni Weekend here at W&L, which means it is time to witness the yearly phenomenon I feel should rightfully be called "fraternal return," which consists in what I feel is appropriately called "internal return."
My fraternity, Lambda Chi Alpha, kicked off the weekend with a cocktail party in honor of returning alumni yesterday from 5-7 PM. While current brothers mingled a little bit with those who graduated in the last five years or so, those who graduated in the 80s and 70s (and a few from the 60s, even) hung around together.
While I would like to have seen more cross-generation reaching-out, it became apparent that that is not the primary goal of coming back to the fraternity house after five, 10, 20, 35, 45 years in the big scary outside world. Rather, those who come back and hang out around the house for much of the weekend do so in order to recover memories of their times here.
With them laughing loudly and drinking and eating heartily, one might have mistakenly regarded the reverie of some as strange and perhaps a bit immature, but I disagree. As men of 40 years or more told some of us stories about how someone fell out of the third floor bathroom window or about how there used to be a beer machine disguised as a soda machine on the second floor, they did so with wild eyes that nearly had us thinking these events took place last week, rather than before some of us were born. It is strange--nearly magical--how this house brings the age of the spirits of all who live here now and have lived here in the past together.
Thus, coming back to the fraternity house after years away is not just coming back to a place but to a bygone time. The internal part of this return comes in the form of the brief brightening of the spirits to college-age vitality. Noticing the generations this house has touched and helped to mold makes me appreciate it all the more. I hope to make the most of my time here, knowing that as soon as I exit its safety for the next stage in life, part of me will be wishing I was back, anxious to return.
It is Alumni Weekend here at W&L, which means it is time to witness the yearly phenomenon I feel should rightfully be called "fraternal return," which consists in what I feel is appropriately called "internal return."
My fraternity, Lambda Chi Alpha, kicked off the weekend with a cocktail party in honor of returning alumni yesterday from 5-7 PM. While current brothers mingled a little bit with those who graduated in the last five years or so, those who graduated in the 80s and 70s (and a few from the 60s, even) hung around together.
While I would like to have seen more cross-generation reaching-out, it became apparent that that is not the primary goal of coming back to the fraternity house after five, 10, 20, 35, 45 years in the big scary outside world. Rather, those who come back and hang out around the house for much of the weekend do so in order to recover memories of their times here.
With them laughing loudly and drinking and eating heartily, one might have mistakenly regarded the reverie of some as strange and perhaps a bit immature, but I disagree. As men of 40 years or more told some of us stories about how someone fell out of the third floor bathroom window or about how there used to be a beer machine disguised as a soda machine on the second floor, they did so with wild eyes that nearly had us thinking these events took place last week, rather than before some of us were born. It is strange--nearly magical--how this house brings the age of the spirits of all who live here now and have lived here in the past together.
Thus, coming back to the fraternity house after years away is not just coming back to a place but to a bygone time. The internal part of this return comes in the form of the brief brightening of the spirits to college-age vitality. Noticing the generations this house has touched and helped to mold makes me appreciate it all the more. I hope to make the most of my time here, knowing that as soon as I exit its safety for the next stage in life, part of me will be wishing I was back, anxious to return.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Television Poisoning, Part II
The second critical element of television poisoning, of course, is the abject putrescence of nearly all commercials, which often make me feel like a banana in the desert. Take for example:
- A recent Toyota commercial that boldly and inexplicably commits one of the deadly sins of grammar (at least in my eyes): pluralization with an apostrophe. Mind-bogglingly, NO ONE involved in the making of this commercial was able to prevent it from selling "Corolla's," "Venza's," and "Tundra's." I will never buy a Toyota.
- The incessant "Five Dollar Footlong" campaign that Subway has made a part of every single ad it has run, with increasing ridiculousness. I never thought I'd wish to see the Jared Fogel before/after comparison pictures again.
- Bob's Discount Furniture commercials are legendary for their mind-meltingly low-brow commercials. See for yourself...Bob-o-Pedic commercial.
These examples comprise but a drop in the vast toxic slurry that is television advertisement. It is just another step in the full-scale social acceptance of the lowest common denominator.
- A recent Toyota commercial that boldly and inexplicably commits one of the deadly sins of grammar (at least in my eyes): pluralization with an apostrophe. Mind-bogglingly, NO ONE involved in the making of this commercial was able to prevent it from selling "Corolla's," "Venza's," and "Tundra's." I will never buy a Toyota.
- The incessant "Five Dollar Footlong" campaign that Subway has made a part of every single ad it has run, with increasing ridiculousness. I never thought I'd wish to see the Jared Fogel before/after comparison pictures again.
- Bob's Discount Furniture commercials are legendary for their mind-meltingly low-brow commercials. See for yourself...Bob-o-Pedic commercial.
These examples comprise but a drop in the vast toxic slurry that is television advertisement. It is just another step in the full-scale social acceptance of the lowest common denominator.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Television Poisoning, Part I (A First-Hand Account of the Disease)
I'm lying in bed, soon to go to sleep. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I will begin my second Spring Term at W&L with Physics for the Non-Scientist at 12:20. With that and an English course on literature about the Islamic world from 1100-1600 comprising my academic load for the term, I should be busy, but not overly so. I'm also looking forward to playing a good bit of golf and otherwise enjoying the gorgeous time of year that has, at last, arrived in Virginia.
I'm looking forward, but I'm also looking back on my Spring Break. I had a nice, relaxing week at home. Aside from playing golf a few times and writing a couple articles for my father about golf courses, I was spectacularly unproductive.
I managed to watch the 18 released episodes of the latest season of the show "24." At about 43 minutes per episode, I have invested very nearly 13 hours in the show in the past 8 days instead of reading the Bill Bryson book on Australia that I recently acquired. In terms of television, it (along with "The Soup," occasionally) is one of my only guilty pleasures. Therefore, I write this somewhat bashfully, but there you go.
In the past week-plus, I have been so heavily inundated by espionage, double- and triple-crosses, and implausibly deep-running conspiracy plot lines in the show that I fear that the line between real life and Jack Bauer's America--an America full of villains with hilariously cliché flaws and good-guys who are just organized enough to mostly stave off catastrophe but too incompetent to quell threats altogether--begins to get fuzzy after prolonged exposure to "24."
Now, this doesn't mean I'm going to be taking things into my own hands and plodding off to try and save the world with my tactical brilliance and totally rad self-defense moves. However, I feel more vigilant--you never know when some normally-amiable soul has gone and gotten himself or herself infected by the disease of silly mischief. Furthermore, I find myself half-wishing I could have the earnest, foreboding music of "24" follow me around, subtly changing as the situation dictates, danger alternatively confronting and shrinking away from me. And if ever something happens, for those orange digital numbers to pop up and hold the world in suspense for between 180 and 300 seconds until my wanderings resume would be quite amusing. If someone could arrange this at a reasonable price, do contact me.
Cheers.
P.S. In Part II I aim to complain about how some commercials are ruining our youth. Stay tuned, dear readers, stay tuned.
I'm looking forward, but I'm also looking back on my Spring Break. I had a nice, relaxing week at home. Aside from playing golf a few times and writing a couple articles for my father about golf courses, I was spectacularly unproductive.
I managed to watch the 18 released episodes of the latest season of the show "24." At about 43 minutes per episode, I have invested very nearly 13 hours in the show in the past 8 days instead of reading the Bill Bryson book on Australia that I recently acquired. In terms of television, it (along with "The Soup," occasionally) is one of my only guilty pleasures. Therefore, I write this somewhat bashfully, but there you go.
In the past week-plus, I have been so heavily inundated by espionage, double- and triple-crosses, and implausibly deep-running conspiracy plot lines in the show that I fear that the line between real life and Jack Bauer's America--an America full of villains with hilariously cliché flaws and good-guys who are just organized enough to mostly stave off catastrophe but too incompetent to quell threats altogether--begins to get fuzzy after prolonged exposure to "24."
Now, this doesn't mean I'm going to be taking things into my own hands and plodding off to try and save the world with my tactical brilliance and totally rad self-defense moves. However, I feel more vigilant--you never know when some normally-amiable soul has gone and gotten himself or herself infected by the disease of silly mischief. Furthermore, I find myself half-wishing I could have the earnest, foreboding music of "24" follow me around, subtly changing as the situation dictates, danger alternatively confronting and shrinking away from me. And if ever something happens, for those orange digital numbers to pop up and hold the world in suspense for between 180 and 300 seconds until my wanderings resume would be quite amusing. If someone could arrange this at a reasonable price, do contact me.
Cheers.
P.S. In Part II I aim to complain about how some commercials are ruining our youth. Stay tuned, dear readers, stay tuned.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Wood Man Entertaineth
Most people who know me well know that I am an avid lover of Woody Allen films. He is responsible for "Annie Hall"--my favorite movie of all time--as well as some other cinematic gems such as "Radio Days," "Mighty Aphrodite," and "Manhattan."
Tonight I watched another intriguing film in the Allen canon, "Crimes and Misdemeanors." Despite a tangible preoccupation with such serious issues as death, general morality, and justice, the film is a comedy with a great many witty one-liners and absurd-yet-oddly-realistic events. And with such a capable cast--including Martin Landau, Alan Alda, Mia Farrow, Anjelica Huston, Jerry Orbach, Sam Waterston, and Allen himself--two parallel stories mesh very nicely instead of annoying and confusing the viewer, until everything kind of resolves in the end in the gracefully matter-of-fact, life-carries-on sort of denouement that endears Allen's movies to audiences. The film, while funny and silly at times, raises some intriguing questions about death and justice and faith without being preachy or pushy. I would recommend it to anyone willing to see a cerebral, amusing film that lacks the pretense and noise from which so many current efforts suffer.
Cheers.
(I know this is kind of a random post; I'll try to return to my more introspective kinds of commentaries forthwith.)
Tonight I watched another intriguing film in the Allen canon, "Crimes and Misdemeanors." Despite a tangible preoccupation with such serious issues as death, general morality, and justice, the film is a comedy with a great many witty one-liners and absurd-yet-oddly-realistic events. And with such a capable cast--including Martin Landau, Alan Alda, Mia Farrow, Anjelica Huston, Jerry Orbach, Sam Waterston, and Allen himself--two parallel stories mesh very nicely instead of annoying and confusing the viewer, until everything kind of resolves in the end in the gracefully matter-of-fact, life-carries-on sort of denouement that endears Allen's movies to audiences. The film, while funny and silly at times, raises some intriguing questions about death and justice and faith without being preachy or pushy. I would recommend it to anyone willing to see a cerebral, amusing film that lacks the pretense and noise from which so many current efforts suffer.
Cheers.
(I know this is kind of a random post; I'll try to return to my more introspective kinds of commentaries forthwith.)
Sunday, April 12, 2009
I'm Baaaaack!
The last month has been pretty hectic for me. I'm sorry I haven't blogged lately; three writing-heavy classes (Northern European Medieval Art, History of the English Language, and Native American Literature) have sapped much of my creative strength of late, so TVM has been sadly neglected for some weeks. Well no more, I say! I will find the time to blog regularly again this coming week (my Spring Break) and over the coming months, should you find it in your hearts and net-surfing schedules to make room for my random thoughts once again.
Cheers.
--Tim
Cheers.
--Tim
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"What A Stupid I Am"
The title of this here little post comprises the phrase uttered by professional golfer Roberto DiVicenzo upon realizing the fact that he signed his scorecard for an incorrect score, costing him the 1968 Masters Tournament. It describes my feelings earlier today perfectly.
Excited that today's high temperature would be a balmy (by February-in-Connecticut standards) 45 degrees today, I planned to drive down to the quaint (save for the huge Pfizer plant compound) town of Groton, CT to play golf at Shennecossett Municipal Golf Course, a lovely old golf course that stays open year-round, weather permitting. I had played a few days ago without a problem, so I assumed that today would be similarly suitable for golf. Knowing that Shennecossett posts alerts about the golf course online but absolutely sure that the golf course would be open, last night's rain be damned, I paid the website a formality of a visit, and seeing the note "The golf course will be open, weather permitting," took my cue to get in the car and drive the 80 minutes to Groton, salivating at the idea of another chilly but enjoyable day of golf.
(yours truly, on the 17th green)
(view beyond the 16th green out towards Long Island Sound)
I should have known as soon as I made a left onto Plant St. towards the golf course, as I saw no one playing. I rationalized this suspicion immediately, thinking that people weren't as likely to take Thursday afternoon off as they were to take Monday afternoon off. Undeterred by a deterrent that would have surely deterred the sane, I unloaded my golf bag, put on my shoes, and strode about 500 feet from the parking lot to the pro shop. Almost cheerily, the guy working therein informed me, "Too much rain last night...course's closed...call back tomorrow morning to see if we're open."
Spirits broken, I walked back to the car. Whereas I had been singing joyously along with Cat Stevens, Leonard Cohen, and Bob Dylan (bless you, creators of Pandora.com!) on the way down, the songs that played the rest of the afternoon in the car washed over me with the iciness of the body of water abreast of which I had sought to play.
After a similar lack of success at Fenwick Golf Course (a cute little nine hole course located in a village where Katherine Hepburn used to summer), my disappointment turned to fury. Cursing myself, the golf course officials, and Mother Nature, I turned for home. Determined not to completely waste the day, I stopped by GolfQuest, a semi-high-tech outdoor driving range in Southington, CT, and hit balls for an hour or so. Its effect was only marginally better than that of a Band-Aid on a stab wound, but it was better than nothing.
If there is any silver lining to the day, I discovered two great songs through Pandora. The first, "Desolation Row," is my new favorite Bob Dylan song, and the second, "Brompton Oratory," is an interesting little ditty by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
"Desolation Row"
"Brompton Oratory"
Cheers.
Excited that today's high temperature would be a balmy (by February-in-Connecticut standards) 45 degrees today, I planned to drive down to the quaint (save for the huge Pfizer plant compound) town of Groton, CT to play golf at Shennecossett Municipal Golf Course, a lovely old golf course that stays open year-round, weather permitting. I had played a few days ago without a problem, so I assumed that today would be similarly suitable for golf. Knowing that Shennecossett posts alerts about the golf course online but absolutely sure that the golf course would be open, last night's rain be damned, I paid the website a formality of a visit, and seeing the note "The golf course will be open, weather permitting," took my cue to get in the car and drive the 80 minutes to Groton, salivating at the idea of another chilly but enjoyable day of golf.
(yours truly, on the 17th green)
(view beyond the 16th green out towards Long Island Sound)
I should have known as soon as I made a left onto Plant St. towards the golf course, as I saw no one playing. I rationalized this suspicion immediately, thinking that people weren't as likely to take Thursday afternoon off as they were to take Monday afternoon off. Undeterred by a deterrent that would have surely deterred the sane, I unloaded my golf bag, put on my shoes, and strode about 500 feet from the parking lot to the pro shop. Almost cheerily, the guy working therein informed me, "Too much rain last night...course's closed...call back tomorrow morning to see if we're open."
Spirits broken, I walked back to the car. Whereas I had been singing joyously along with Cat Stevens, Leonard Cohen, and Bob Dylan (bless you, creators of Pandora.com!) on the way down, the songs that played the rest of the afternoon in the car washed over me with the iciness of the body of water abreast of which I had sought to play.
After a similar lack of success at Fenwick Golf Course (a cute little nine hole course located in a village where Katherine Hepburn used to summer), my disappointment turned to fury. Cursing myself, the golf course officials, and Mother Nature, I turned for home. Determined not to completely waste the day, I stopped by GolfQuest, a semi-high-tech outdoor driving range in Southington, CT, and hit balls for an hour or so. Its effect was only marginally better than that of a Band-Aid on a stab wound, but it was better than nothing.
If there is any silver lining to the day, I discovered two great songs through Pandora. The first, "Desolation Row," is my new favorite Bob Dylan song, and the second, "Brompton Oratory," is an interesting little ditty by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
"Desolation Row"
"Brompton Oratory"
Cheers.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Being Out Of Touch: My Anti-Drug
I am sitting with my parents, watching television. After the extreme disappointment of the UConn basketball game, we moved on to TNT and "The Closer." It was an amusing episode, but not the point of this post.
The new show to follow "The Closer" on Monday nights is a crappy modern-day "Mad Men"-type show called "Trust Me." It stars Eric McCormack, formerly Will on "Will and Grace," and Tom Cavanagh, who I know as the annoying brother of J.D. on "Scrubs." In this evening's episode, McCormack's character solicited advice from his daughter, whom he sees as a normal teenager, about how best to appeal to young folks in an ad campaign. Unfortunately, he fails to understand that she is decidedly abnormal in her enjoyment of downloadable books and Leonard Cohen (a girl after my own heart). He ultimately makes a fool of himself in a meeting because of this oversight, and realizes how out-of-touch he is, much to his dismay.
Even though the show is pretty bad, I was amused by the attempted confrontation of coolness. Now, I certainly do not need to be told that I am out-of-touch. I know it, and I embrace it. But I was made to think about the way in which I am out-of-touch. I have always been pretty comfortable in my own skin, but I wondered if part of my strangeness is manufactured from within. Could I be more "normal" if I wanted to? Do I accentuate my weirdness because that is what makes me stand out most? Could I learn to appreciate rap music?
I am inclined to think that the notion that I actually could be less out-there if I tried would be giving myself too much credit, refusing to acknowledge how out-of-touch I truly am, which is, suffice it to say, quite out-of-touch. And I think I'm okay with that.
(Apologies for a bit of blogging-for-the-sake-of-blogging, but I have to feel productive somehow.)
Cheers.
The new show to follow "The Closer" on Monday nights is a crappy modern-day "Mad Men"-type show called "Trust Me." It stars Eric McCormack, formerly Will on "Will and Grace," and Tom Cavanagh, who I know as the annoying brother of J.D. on "Scrubs." In this evening's episode, McCormack's character solicited advice from his daughter, whom he sees as a normal teenager, about how best to appeal to young folks in an ad campaign. Unfortunately, he fails to understand that she is decidedly abnormal in her enjoyment of downloadable books and Leonard Cohen (a girl after my own heart). He ultimately makes a fool of himself in a meeting because of this oversight, and realizes how out-of-touch he is, much to his dismay.
Even though the show is pretty bad, I was amused by the attempted confrontation of coolness. Now, I certainly do not need to be told that I am out-of-touch. I know it, and I embrace it. But I was made to think about the way in which I am out-of-touch. I have always been pretty comfortable in my own skin, but I wondered if part of my strangeness is manufactured from within. Could I be more "normal" if I wanted to? Do I accentuate my weirdness because that is what makes me stand out most? Could I learn to appreciate rap music?
I am inclined to think that the notion that I actually could be less out-there if I tried would be giving myself too much credit, refusing to acknowledge how out-of-touch I truly am, which is, suffice it to say, quite out-of-touch. And I think I'm okay with that.
(Apologies for a bit of blogging-for-the-sake-of-blogging, but I have to feel productive somehow.)
Cheers.
Friday, February 06, 2009
For Lack Of A More Original Post Idea...
...25 random facts about me. I'm not tagging people, though (partially because I'm not cool enough to have been tagged in such a message. But I'm not bitter). The first chunk of facts will be pretty standard, but I'll try to get a little more random as the list wears on.
1. Since the age of six, I have been infected with the incurable condition of addiction to the game of golf. I love all facets of it--from the history of the game to golf course architecture to playing competitively--and believe I always will. I would love to be in the golf business somehow, someday.
2. If my desire from #1 goes unrealized, I'd be happy to go into the food business--specifically, I'd love to be a noted food critic someday. Anyone who knows me knows that I am as interested in food as a preacher is in the Bible.
3. Speaking of religion, I have at no point in my life been a religious person. My mother's family are Greek Orthodox while my father's side is Jewish. I suppose I lean somewhat towards the Jewish side, if anything, but I'm more guided by the notion of human truth, rather than universal truth, so religion is not a big part of my identity.
4. My favorite Jew is also my favorite filmmaker, Woody Allen. "Annie Hall" is the best movie I know of. Allen's honorable-mentions include "Radio Days," "Manhattan," "Sleeper," "Love & Death," and "Everyone Says I Love You."
5. Woody Allen also penned one of my favorite short stories, "The Kugelmass Episode," but I'd have to say my favorite short stories are "The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty" and "The Catbird Seat," both written by James Thurber. I'm a fan of humorism.
6. Speaking of comedies, I'm a big fan of Shakespeare, especially of his--duh!--comedies. I love "The Comedy Of Errors" and "Much Ado About Nothing" most.
7. As for music, my tastes are more in older material than new. Specifically, I am a fan of folk, rock, jazz, and classical. I've been listening to two albums by the Irish group The Pogues lately. They're great.
8. My favorite word is "donnybrook."
9. One of my greatest personal accomplishments: eating 35 buffalo wings in 25 minutes one afternoon in high school.
10. I have déjà vu ll the time, and it freaks me out. I have brief episodes when I recall strange music and images and smells that I am sure are from past dreams. I get nauseous and disoriented whenever this happens, and it's really a strange feeling.
11. I don't drink alcohol, really. I have before, but I don't do it with any kind of regularity. I feel confident in saying that a fairly hefty number of people would be very amused to see me drunk, but they may not get their chance. I will say that my aversion to drinking has nothing to do with 21 being the legal age (that is to say, I could well start drinking occasionally, recreationally, before then; I just don't know). I will do it when the spirit moves me.
12. Speaking of my 21st birthday, it will fall on October 10, 2010. That means that that date will read 10/10/10. Pretty excellent, no?
13. I am a huge trivia nerd. My father taught me the state capitals when I was absurdly young (3 or 4), and I've known them ever since. I watch Jeopardy whenever I can, and I've taken the online test a few times. I would love to be on the College Championship.
14. Regrettably, I'm a really gullible person, and it must be obvious to people when they meet me. People I've never met in my life will mess with me all the time. Are the words "I'm gullible!" written on my forehead and I just can't see them?
15. I wasn't always a goody-two-shoes. I was sent to the principal's office in 1st grade for participating in a pretend swordfight--the weapons were plastic forks.
16. I have a fine motor-skills deficiency. I use a computer for tests and in-class writing assignments because whereas most people have no problem cranking out a bunch of written pages by hand, my hand and wrist seize up after a couple sentences. It's super-annoying.
17. I've played alto (and a little bit of tenor) saxophone since the summer after 4th grade. I plateaued in terms of my ability right after 8th grade, but I still enjoy playing.
18. My favorite work of all literature is J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. I try to read it at least once per year. I've never encountered a character that resonates with me more strongly than does Holden Caulfield.
19. I have not done the following things in at least three years: put on sunscreen, eaten a bowl of cereal, ridden a bicycle.
20. I don't really know what I want to do for a living. I know I'm going to major in English at W&L, but what happens beyond that is less clear. Part of me would love to go back and teach English at Westminster for a couple years, but I don't really know. It's kind of disconcerting when I think about it. Probably ought to get on that whole figuring-out-what-to-do thing pretty soon.
21. I have never been in a physical fight in my life. Never hauled off and slugged someone (though there have been many times when I would have loved to). Even though I'm about the weakest dude you'll ever meet, I'm afraid that if I ever do get in such an altercation, some accident will happen and I'll hurt someone far more than I ever intended to.
22. I've always been very averse to change. If I am comfortable in one situation, it is very difficult for me to try something different. It took me a long time to adjust to living away from home. As soon as I started to get comfortable in my Freshmen dorm room, last year was over and I had to pack it all up. I've become comfortable in my fraternity house a little more quickly, thankfully.
23. I wish I had the mind to be a master singer/songwriter, someone on the order of Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen (my two favorite such artists). But I think all of the greatest songs have been written; I can count the number of original songs from the last three years that I genuinely enjoy on one hand.
24. I don't really know why I maintain this blog. I think that's why I don't post more regularly. I would like to say that I blog because I feel like I have interesting things to say, but that is certainly not my call to make. If you reach the end of this post and don't feel as though the time you took to read it was completely wasted, then I suppose I haven't done this in vain.
25. This was one of the more challenging posts I've undertaken. I have found it quite difficult to provide 25 facts about myself without repeating things (and I probably have here a little bit...god knows it's been a verbose list). Oh well. I gave it a whirl.
Cheers.
1. Since the age of six, I have been infected with the incurable condition of addiction to the game of golf. I love all facets of it--from the history of the game to golf course architecture to playing competitively--and believe I always will. I would love to be in the golf business somehow, someday.
2. If my desire from #1 goes unrealized, I'd be happy to go into the food business--specifically, I'd love to be a noted food critic someday. Anyone who knows me knows that I am as interested in food as a preacher is in the Bible.
3. Speaking of religion, I have at no point in my life been a religious person. My mother's family are Greek Orthodox while my father's side is Jewish. I suppose I lean somewhat towards the Jewish side, if anything, but I'm more guided by the notion of human truth, rather than universal truth, so religion is not a big part of my identity.
4. My favorite Jew is also my favorite filmmaker, Woody Allen. "Annie Hall" is the best movie I know of. Allen's honorable-mentions include "Radio Days," "Manhattan," "Sleeper," "Love & Death," and "Everyone Says I Love You."
5. Woody Allen also penned one of my favorite short stories, "The Kugelmass Episode," but I'd have to say my favorite short stories are "The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty" and "The Catbird Seat," both written by James Thurber. I'm a fan of humorism.
6. Speaking of comedies, I'm a big fan of Shakespeare, especially of his--duh!--comedies. I love "The Comedy Of Errors" and "Much Ado About Nothing" most.
7. As for music, my tastes are more in older material than new. Specifically, I am a fan of folk, rock, jazz, and classical. I've been listening to two albums by the Irish group The Pogues lately. They're great.
8. My favorite word is "donnybrook."
9. One of my greatest personal accomplishments: eating 35 buffalo wings in 25 minutes one afternoon in high school.
10. I have déjà vu ll the time, and it freaks me out. I have brief episodes when I recall strange music and images and smells that I am sure are from past dreams. I get nauseous and disoriented whenever this happens, and it's really a strange feeling.
11. I don't drink alcohol, really. I have before, but I don't do it with any kind of regularity. I feel confident in saying that a fairly hefty number of people would be very amused to see me drunk, but they may not get their chance. I will say that my aversion to drinking has nothing to do with 21 being the legal age (that is to say, I could well start drinking occasionally, recreationally, before then; I just don't know). I will do it when the spirit moves me.
12. Speaking of my 21st birthday, it will fall on October 10, 2010. That means that that date will read 10/10/10. Pretty excellent, no?
13. I am a huge trivia nerd. My father taught me the state capitals when I was absurdly young (3 or 4), and I've known them ever since. I watch Jeopardy whenever I can, and I've taken the online test a few times. I would love to be on the College Championship.
14. Regrettably, I'm a really gullible person, and it must be obvious to people when they meet me. People I've never met in my life will mess with me all the time. Are the words "I'm gullible!" written on my forehead and I just can't see them?
15. I wasn't always a goody-two-shoes. I was sent to the principal's office in 1st grade for participating in a pretend swordfight--the weapons were plastic forks.
16. I have a fine motor-skills deficiency. I use a computer for tests and in-class writing assignments because whereas most people have no problem cranking out a bunch of written pages by hand, my hand and wrist seize up after a couple sentences. It's super-annoying.
17. I've played alto (and a little bit of tenor) saxophone since the summer after 4th grade. I plateaued in terms of my ability right after 8th grade, but I still enjoy playing.
18. My favorite work of all literature is J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. I try to read it at least once per year. I've never encountered a character that resonates with me more strongly than does Holden Caulfield.
19. I have not done the following things in at least three years: put on sunscreen, eaten a bowl of cereal, ridden a bicycle.
20. I don't really know what I want to do for a living. I know I'm going to major in English at W&L, but what happens beyond that is less clear. Part of me would love to go back and teach English at Westminster for a couple years, but I don't really know. It's kind of disconcerting when I think about it. Probably ought to get on that whole figuring-out-what-to-do thing pretty soon.
21. I have never been in a physical fight in my life. Never hauled off and slugged someone (though there have been many times when I would have loved to). Even though I'm about the weakest dude you'll ever meet, I'm afraid that if I ever do get in such an altercation, some accident will happen and I'll hurt someone far more than I ever intended to.
22. I've always been very averse to change. If I am comfortable in one situation, it is very difficult for me to try something different. It took me a long time to adjust to living away from home. As soon as I started to get comfortable in my Freshmen dorm room, last year was over and I had to pack it all up. I've become comfortable in my fraternity house a little more quickly, thankfully.
23. I wish I had the mind to be a master singer/songwriter, someone on the order of Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen (my two favorite such artists). But I think all of the greatest songs have been written; I can count the number of original songs from the last three years that I genuinely enjoy on one hand.
24. I don't really know why I maintain this blog. I think that's why I don't post more regularly. I would like to say that I blog because I feel like I have interesting things to say, but that is certainly not my call to make. If you reach the end of this post and don't feel as though the time you took to read it was completely wasted, then I suppose I haven't done this in vain.
25. This was one of the more challenging posts I've undertaken. I have found it quite difficult to provide 25 facts about myself without repeating things (and I probably have here a little bit...god knows it's been a verbose list). Oh well. I gave it a whirl.
Cheers.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
And Now, A Brief Public Service Announcement
The sinister nature of fast food advertising never ceases to amaze me.
Most will agree that the McDonald's Dollar Menu (and its ilk) is one of Man's greatest innovations. Most would not consider it a stretch at all to declare the Double Cheeseburger one of the yummiest possible uses of a dollar.
Most Dollar Menu veterans will note the recent introduction of a new Dollar Menu item: the McDouble. Just a renaming of the Double Cheeseburger. Or is it?
I learned the dastardly truth last night, when I was hit head-on by a snack attack. I had quite the DC hankering. When I glanced at the Dollar Menu at the nearest site of the Golden Arches, I noticed that a Double Cheeseburger was now an infuriating $1.19! Confused and a little troubled, I inquired as to the difference between the McDouble and the Double Cheeseburger. My braces-toothed order-taker informed me in a splendidly lazy drawl that "the Double Cheeseburger has two pieces of cheese and the McDouble has one piece."
This move by McD's is really pretty stingy, in my opinion. As one of the few stocks that has felt relatively little to no heat from the recent economic downturn, the decision to quibble by 19 cents over a single piece of ultra-processed cheese-type matter is quite silly. But that's the way it goes, I guess.
Anyway, I just thought I would warn those of you who have not yet been duped by The Man (none other than that bastard Ronald McDonald, in this case) that he is fixing to fleece you out of 19 cents per DC if you're not careful.
You'd better run, Ronnie. We're on to your little game.
Corporate pigs.
Most will agree that the McDonald's Dollar Menu (and its ilk) is one of Man's greatest innovations. Most would not consider it a stretch at all to declare the Double Cheeseburger one of the yummiest possible uses of a dollar.
Most Dollar Menu veterans will note the recent introduction of a new Dollar Menu item: the McDouble. Just a renaming of the Double Cheeseburger. Or is it?
I learned the dastardly truth last night, when I was hit head-on by a snack attack. I had quite the DC hankering. When I glanced at the Dollar Menu at the nearest site of the Golden Arches, I noticed that a Double Cheeseburger was now an infuriating $1.19! Confused and a little troubled, I inquired as to the difference between the McDouble and the Double Cheeseburger. My braces-toothed order-taker informed me in a splendidly lazy drawl that "the Double Cheeseburger has two pieces of cheese and the McDouble has one piece."
This move by McD's is really pretty stingy, in my opinion. As one of the few stocks that has felt relatively little to no heat from the recent economic downturn, the decision to quibble by 19 cents over a single piece of ultra-processed cheese-type matter is quite silly. But that's the way it goes, I guess.
Anyway, I just thought I would warn those of you who have not yet been duped by The Man (none other than that bastard Ronald McDonald, in this case) that he is fixing to fleece you out of 19 cents per DC if you're not careful.
You'd better run, Ronnie. We're on to your little game.
Corporate pigs.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Pictures of Odd Things in Public Places, Part 2: Mall
...at long last. I've been a killer combination of busy and lazy since I returned to school, so forgive the blog pause. Anyhoo...
One afternoon when my family was in South Carolina, we went to the imposing Coastal Grand Mall. Still a giddy new iPhone owner, I snapped some pictures of amusing things in the mall, just as I did at Piggly Wiggly. Again, captions will succeed the pictures.
I'd put five-to-one odds against Gianni Bini and Antonio Melani even existing as real people. One of the funniest things I see in malls is department store in-house brands with faux-elegant Italian names that are clearly meant to remind would-be consumers of bona fide fashion names like Giorgio Armani and Donatella Versace.
I'd say it's pretty ironic that a brand called Hobo International is trying to sell fine leather handbags.
My instinct is to stay away from women dressed like the one in the above ad. It's a strong instinct.
Shameless self-humiliation, to show you that I put it all on the line for my loyal blog readers.
Though I am a contented owner of quite a few articles of Polo clothing, the people in their ads never cease to evoke feelings of bewilderment. Not only do the mannequin-like poses and facial expressions (and, no doubt, masks of makeup and airbrushing) disquiet me, their outfits are almost always ridiculous. I can't say I see many young men wearing bow ties under zip-up sweaters, but perhaps I don't run with the right crowd.
In conclusion, where's Don Draper when you need him?
Cheers.
One afternoon when my family was in South Carolina, we went to the imposing Coastal Grand Mall. Still a giddy new iPhone owner, I snapped some pictures of amusing things in the mall, just as I did at Piggly Wiggly. Again, captions will succeed the pictures.
I'd put five-to-one odds against Gianni Bini and Antonio Melani even existing as real people. One of the funniest things I see in malls is department store in-house brands with faux-elegant Italian names that are clearly meant to remind would-be consumers of bona fide fashion names like Giorgio Armani and Donatella Versace.
I'd say it's pretty ironic that a brand called Hobo International is trying to sell fine leather handbags.
My instinct is to stay away from women dressed like the one in the above ad. It's a strong instinct.
Shameless self-humiliation, to show you that I put it all on the line for my loyal blog readers.
Though I am a contented owner of quite a few articles of Polo clothing, the people in their ads never cease to evoke feelings of bewilderment. Not only do the mannequin-like poses and facial expressions (and, no doubt, masks of makeup and airbrushing) disquiet me, their outfits are almost always ridiculous. I can't say I see many young men wearing bow ties under zip-up sweaters, but perhaps I don't run with the right crowd.
In conclusion, where's Don Draper when you need him?
Cheers.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Pictures of Odd Things in Public Places, Part 1: Supermarket
One of the most useful features of my new iPhone is the ease with which I can transfer pictures I've taken with it to my laptop. That has allowed me to go a bit hog-wild in taking pictures of things I find odd or amusing where'er I go. A few nights, I did so in the local Piggly Wiggly, a supermarket prevalent in parts of the South (we've been staying in Pawleys Island, SC for the better part of the last week). Captions will be under their pictures.
Gotta love seeing a package of cookies using the last name of a very famous philosopher. I think the company missed an opportunity to extend the association with Leibniz. The obvious motto for the cookies should be "Leibniz: the best of all possible cookies." Oh well; advertising just ain't what it used to be.
This pretty much sums up why I would never want to be a huge pop-culture celebrity. My obsession with Angelina Jolie is very intense and very private, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much! (Note: I am not obsessed with Ms. Jolie)
I can only imagine some of the lines in this one:
Captain Bluebeard caressed her so gently and tenderly that the callouses on his hands melted away to nothing but ecstasy against her rost cheek.
"Yarrrr, dear Elizabeth, I could never make ye walk the plank."
Et Cetera, et cetera.
I wrote of the monosyllabic-detergent phenomenon some months ago, but I thought I'd capture it in its natural habitat, as it were.
Supermarkets can be really interesting studies of advertising, I've always thought. There are head-scratchers and laughs around every corner. Part 2 will be a similar format, but from the Coastal Grand Mall in Myrtle Beach, SC, at which my family spent a couple hours yesterday afternoon.
'Til then.
Gotta love seeing a package of cookies using the last name of a very famous philosopher. I think the company missed an opportunity to extend the association with Leibniz. The obvious motto for the cookies should be "Leibniz: the best of all possible cookies." Oh well; advertising just ain't what it used to be.
This pretty much sums up why I would never want to be a huge pop-culture celebrity. My obsession with Angelina Jolie is very intense and very private, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much! (Note: I am not obsessed with Ms. Jolie)
I can only imagine some of the lines in this one:
Captain Bluebeard caressed her so gently and tenderly that the callouses on his hands melted away to nothing but ecstasy against her rost cheek.
"Yarrrr, dear Elizabeth, I could never make ye walk the plank."
Et Cetera, et cetera.
I wrote of the monosyllabic-detergent phenomenon some months ago, but I thought I'd capture it in its natural habitat, as it were.
Supermarkets can be really interesting studies of advertising, I've always thought. There are head-scratchers and laughs around every corner. Part 2 will be a similar format, but from the Coastal Grand Mall in Myrtle Beach, SC, at which my family spent a couple hours yesterday afternoon.
'Til then.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Anew
How my 2008 ended: watching the movie Traffic and then watching "Deal Or No Deal."
How my 2009 began: watching Robbie Knievel jump over a fake volcano at the Mirage in Las Vegas on FOX .
Nowhere to go but up, eh?
Happy New Year, y'all.
How my 2009 began: watching Robbie Knievel jump over a fake volcano at the Mirage in Las Vegas on FOX .
Nowhere to go but up, eh?
Happy New Year, y'all.
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