Are You Smarter Than An Infomercial?

[Ed. note: A shout out to Jas who told me about this video.]

Someone out there in the world spent time splicing together all of the "before" scenes from infomercials.  And God bless this person.  If you ever are having a bad day, please drop whatever you are doing and view this video.  No matter how bad your day is, at least you can do things like wear a blanket, crack an egg into a pan, walk past a garden hose without tripping, and remove your own shoes, just to name a few.



Some individual's incredible ineptitude
Putting into perspective
Your feeble failures.

Gabourey Sidibe

Look, I'm going to be honest with you. If you don't want to be friends with Gabourey Sidibe then your parents definitely dropped you on your head as a baby. More than once.

She hosted Saturday Night Live last night and this was one of my favorite skits of hers.  Even as this old lady, the let's-hang-out-and-be-friends-ness of her shines through. 



I also love how on the Oscars red carpet she said it was like "prom for hollywood."  And check out the first thirty seconds of her Ellen interview with that dance, which she later said her friend choreographed with her in case she was ever a guest on Ellen's show.



But the best story of all is when Billy Bush of [whatever annoying celebrity-obsessed "news" show] was interviewing her on the Oscars red carpet and they were talking about attractive actor Gerard Butler who was approaching.  Gabourey (not realizing he was there) says to Bush about Butler "I'd hit that!"

I almost peed my pants out of sheer hilarity right then, but Billy Bush misses this comment and brings Butler over.  Then you can tell a producer recounts the comment to Bush because he puts his hand to his ear and says "What?  No she didn't." Then Bush asks Gabourey to repeat her comment in front of Butler and so she does.  They end the exchange with her joking that they should get a bottle of champagne and see where the night goes.  Totally classic.

I feel a little like I just retold a story from seventh grade recess but just watch the video, ok?

Glorious Gabourey
Knows the supreme thing to say
True talent, it's been said
But it never goes her head.

Bushing Ourselves To Be Better

I heard President Bush and his wife Laura speak today at SMU in an event that was likely a mini-promotion for the George Bush Presidential Center. The Bushes were recipients of a medal that the SMU Tower Center for political studies gives in conjunction with the Tate Lecture Series in conjunction with the SMU feral cats program* and the Lactose-Intolerant Students Association and he other seventeen organizations mentioned which made the introduction to this ceremony a very long event.

Now, here is just some general background on me.  If ever asked on a survey "how do you feel about George W. Bush and his presidential legacy?" and given the choices Satisfied or Not Satisfied, here is what I would do:

1. I would travel briskly at 4 miles over the speed limit to the nearest Office Depot.
2. Buy a three pack of # 2 pencils just to have back ups in case of breakage.
3. I would very carefully and fully fill in the Not Satisfied bubble.  

That having been said, I am able to separate the office of President of the United States (or POTUS if you are an incurably nerdy law student or brown nose-y political hopeful) from the human being who currently occupies that office. I also believe that some respects owed to of the office should be bestowed upon the human being that occupies the office.  And because of the respect I believe is due, I will refrain from saying any more.

Now that we have my political history down, I hope you will appreciate what I am about to say.  George W. Bush was a pleasant speaker.  Notice that I said pleasant and not mind-blowing or game changing or world-rocking. (Ed. Note: Mom and Dad: Please. Calm. Down!  I'm not exactly investing in an Ann Coulter poster for my bedroom or getting a tattoo of an elephant on my upper left buttock.  Try breathing into a paper bag, I hear that helps.  Sheesh.)

Anyway, as I was saying, I enjoyed the speech.  The honor bestowed by SMU upon the Bushes was the medal of freedom** and so the former President spoke about several things he thinks threaten freedom today.  The one that hit home with me the most was international isolationism, or thinking that problems happening outside of our homes, zip codes, states, or countries are distinctly outside of our concern zone.

I worry often about this exact problem.  I worry that I will become so wrapped up in job searching or the vines taking over my back fence that I will forget that there are another six billion people on this earth with rich cultures and complex problems.  I worry about it when I hear friends talk about illegal immigrants in a way that makes me think they have forgotten these people are people.  I worry about Americans in general thinking that we stand apart from the rest of the world when we really don't.  I think we are incredibly important internationally (unintentional alliteration) but in the same way our brain it cannot function by itself even though is the most important organ in the body, we as Americans can't function completely removed from the perspective of the entire world.

Anyway, I could really go on about this for hours but I'll stop.  I have previously written about the idea of basic human rights but this is my blog so I can repeat things as many times as I want to.  (By the way, have you checked out That is Priceless?)

Isolating ourselves from what is different,
Inoculating ourselves against a possible viral interest in others,
Ignoring outsiders and their issues,
To create a perfect Eden of ignorance.

* This is a real program.  Ridiculous!  Though I don't think they actually sponsored the talk.
** Medal of Freedom = Most generic medal name ever.  If it was a cereal it would be called Frosted Oaties or Yummy Os.  If it were a retail store it would be called Smith's.  If it were a street in Atlanta it would be called Peachtree.

Ke$ha

I think the legacy of my generation (and plus or minus a little depending on how strict you are with your generational qualifications) is going to be the blurring of borders.  We don't just talk on the phone, we text while talking and blackberry messengering while driving.  We don't just eat, we eat and walk around and talk and drive.  (I'm not sure why all of this involves driving, I guess we really have places to go.)

I am so overstimulated that I hate taking a shower because it is so darn boring.  I have to have a new mix on my iPod or turn on NPR to get through it.  I must watch TV or surf the net while I'm eating and while I'm studying I won't even tell you the multiple other things I do.  There is an actual commercial now about kids who eat standing up and the (fake) discrimination they face.  Who wants to eat standing up?   That is just stupid.  How are you supposed to balance the TV remote if you are walking around.

This extreme multi-tasking is great sometimes, but I fear it has gotten out of control.  For me, the real problems start when you forget the original task that you are attempting to conquer.  No one better personifies this than the "singer" Ke$ha.  I love her songs, they are the kind of songs you play while doing other things (getting ready to go out, driving with the windows down, and, for me, showering.)  She was the musical guest on the last Saturday Night Live and she put on a crazy performance with lights and costumes and effects and dancing.  She showed off her creative side (which is apparently not bound by our establishment concept of a 26 letter alphabet.)

But there's just one problem, she can't sing.  Should we be concerned about this?  Check it out for yourself.






Ke$ha (pronounced Keh-sha)
You're a multitasking mesha.
Your neon tribal body-drawings didn't quite distract
From your tinny voice in your talentless act.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Today is my dad's birthday.  Below is the poem we all wrote for his birthday dinner invitation, reproduced with permission (assumed permission, that is.)  Hope you enjoy!

Also a birthday shout out to "Eduardo" one of my favorite cousins-in-law.

Way back in 1945, the world was still war-torn
And maybe unprepared for little Marc to be born

Marc paid great attention to girls & cars that were cool
But he didn't fret about studying or doing well in school

Even so, at SMU he really went quite far
First undergrad, then law school & easily passed the bar

Marc started his own practice and finally married Ann
They had three lovely children as fast as parents can

He knew so much law that he was a borderline dork
So he moved on to shooting and revamping Elm Fork

Marc's a businessman and trial lawyer extraordinaire
Who now goes to court with slightly thinner hair

He is a husband and father with the utmost devotion
Everything he does is "Marc"ed with great emotion

Join us to eat and drink as Marc turns 65
He wants us to celebrate - he's happy to be alive!

Justin Time To Feel Old

Ok, could I feel any older?

'Cause frankly, I'm not that old.  I never had a Commodore 64 and I am not old enough to have an original opinion about Reganomics.  I know who Tutti and Jo are but I think mostly from reruns.  I did have a crush on Alex P. Keaton but I'm a red blooded American female so what do you expect?

But here's the problem: what the heck is with this Justin Bieber kid?  I really and truly want to dislike him.  First of all, what is with that hair?  This is not an uncommon hairdo for young dudes these days and I cannot imagine why that is.  I call it the che-hairy because their head looks mostly round and juicy like a big piece of fruit.

Aside from the ridiculous hair, he is disturbingly mature for his age.  And I happen to know from years of interaction and watching TV that males don't mature quickly so this must be an act.  I just find it creepy that he is 16 and hitting on thirty-something women.  Seriously, am I old or what?

Che-hairy:

Choosing to chop your locks

So they sway like soft grass in a field

And then set like a circular cherry.

Up Yours (In A Sweet Way)

I generally think not so much about Hollywood and its surrounding vainglorious BS so when it was announced that there were ten nominees for best picture at this past Oscars, let's just say I was less than impressed.  If I had an address, I would have listed the ten best sandwiches I made this year and sent it in.  That is to say: Not impressed.  I think most of those movies were really good, but the nominating ten thing seemed like a combination of one part reflexive back patting and two parts what I call "media alchemy."

By media alchemy^TM I am referring to the ancient art of using chemistry and philosophy that tried to find the elixir of life by taking crappy metals and turning them into gold.  Or in other words, making something of nothing.  I find Hollywood types practice media alchemy often. (Evidence: Kim Kardashian, why on earth is she famous? No reason at all except that she has a show.)

Anyway, I saw about half of the movies nominated including Up, an animated story that had no chance of winning because it was an animated story.  I was watching part of it just the other day and was reminded of how great of a story it was.  And though this will sound strange it was well acted.  Yes, I know, there are not actual actors acting, but the writing, the voice work, and the animation make it a multi-layered story.  In particular, this clip of Carl and Ellie's life together gives you a feeling of a cartoon-simple couple but more emotionally 3D (take that Avatar 3D.)  And all of it is accomplished without a word!

Here is the clip:




Every time I watch it, I see something else I hadn't realized before. like how they are so eager to start a life together that she is sawing in her wedding dress. And it shows two people who compliment each other so well that you can see their real love for each other. That really is an incredible feat in this medium, if you ask me.


A story bespeckeled with balloon strings
While tugging at your heart strings
Two darlings made from drawings
Though you can consciously conceive the feeling of their clasping hands.

And how his love is linked to her
When he devises a new dream after her disappointment
And delivers when he sees their time together diminishing.

How lucky anyone would be
to have the heart
of two cartoon characters.

ASR Productions - Vanity Card #1

I desperately want to be outwardly annoyed with Chuck Lorre's vanity cards.  For those of you who don't watch television obsessively like I do, at the end of all TV shows by Chuck Lorre Productions, Chuck Lorre writes a note that flashes on the screen for less than a second.  If you want to read it you have to force your tivo do fast forward, go back, go slow, go back acrobatics until you get to that exact third of a second.  To see some samples you can go here, or you can just skip them totally after my ringing endorsement.

The whole thing is ridiculous.  So ridiculous, it could be called ridic.*  I find his ravings to be self-important and sometimes boring and occasionally stupid in a brow-furrowing, should-I-waste-the-time-to-read-that-again-so-I'll-understand kind of way. 

But it occurs to me that this is a perfect description of this blog.  So I guess that means I have to keep my mouth shut.

If it is called a vanity card
I had in mind it wouldn't be hard
To understand that it's vacuous and vain
And abstain from doing it again.

* I really like the "word" ridic because it is, in itself, a bit ridiculous.  But sometimes something is so inane that you really have to hit others over the head with the ridiculousness of it.  And so was born ridic.

Chelsea Handler

I remember when there was such a stir about "young people today" getting their news from untrustworthy sources like The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and then later The Colbert Report.  I watched one and then both of those shows and often did hear about news for the first time on those shows, but they always made me do more research on things that interested me.  Things I would have otherwise not known anything about.

I no longer watch those shows (too much to watch, too little time) and it occurred to me that I have stooped to an even lower low.  I now get my news from Chelsea Handler and the comic round table on Chelsea Lately.  Compared to Stewart, it is a little light on front page news and a little heavy on page six, but sometimes it is still the first place I hear about the latest scuttlebutt.  Really quite sad.

Chelsea Lately.
Educating me greatly.
On every breaking broadcast
Of incredible inconsequence.

To Melcher or Not To Melcher?

Have you checked out That is Priceless yet?  Cause I already mentioned it once or seven times and I don't feel you have been diligently checking back for the good stuff. No one can bring art history to the current day like Steve Melcher.  So if you hate culture and laughing then by all means go back to checking your pitiful portfolio or deleting those emails from classmates.com or whatever it is you do on your computer to take up time.

Just know that while you do that boring crap, the little paperclip helper from MS office (pictured at left in a happier time) is rusting out of boredom and, frankly, it's your fault.



Reimagining art with a trendy twist.
Seeing Matthew McConaughey in William Holman Hunt
And calling out "Count Kleinmueller" when no one else could.  Or would.

A perfect blog for those with an appreciation for the finer things.
Wholly highbrow humor, if it ever existed.

AT&T

You may have noticed that I have been derelict in my posting duties and it is not for the regular reasons (laziness, lack of inspiration.)  It is because my internet connection has been consistently inconsistent.  Working on the internet at my house is basically like using a dial up connection in Somalia.  Or so I imagine.

AT&T: angering me
With an incomprehensible inability to fix my wiring.
As though they are waiting for me to just give in.
But I'm not tiring.

Feelin' Breezy

I am LOVIN' this weather!   There is nothing like being able to keep your windows open and "blow the stink off" of your house by freshening things up.  The breeze may be a little more literal of an application in that sense, since it smells a little like dog at my place.  And I am dreadfully allergic to dust so it's healthy to keep that window open sometimes!*  Right?  Ok good.

The other thing I like about having a nice breeze inside is that it makes my house fuller.  Like there are people over all the time, and I'm using all the rooms at once.  We are comfortably at capacity.

Sometimes the breeze is a body.
Rustling some papers to remind you that you're not alone.
Like an understated cough saying "I'm still here, awaiting your attention."

It reports a racket heard across the yard
Though incompletely because it is indistinctly faint and in echo.

Sometimes it mystifies by moving things to a peculiar place like this book jacket in the dog's water bowl.
And other times makes a mess of matters and leaves, like a moody roommate who never cleans out a coffee cup.

And then at night, having forgot its key, it rattles your window screen
until you are awake and aware.  And annoyed.  It's your early alarm.

Then finally as you replace papers with a harrumph, you realize the wind has dwindled.
And left behind a gaping hole, devoid of din and unusually thin.

And as you replace your knickknacks in their dusty footprints
You can hear the breeze, giving a soliloquy about your snarky sighs that someone else could partially overhear.

* This medical fact is supported by four out of five dentists.

Look Out There's A Monster Coming

I had a "Lost" moment while watching Craig Ferguson last night.

Oh, you're confused?  Well that's how Lost works, but let me explain.  I don't know much about any of these things: Craig Ferguson, The Bonzo Dog, monster songs, or co-hosting so if you don't either then we are starting out in the same place.

I had the boob tube on to distract me while I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed.  Craig Ferguson was on and I accidentally heard and saw this:



[Ed. note: though  my favorite part is Ferguson's dancing, and my second favorite part is how the black guy in the tux looks at the monster.]

Well, clearly none of that makes sense.  Much like the show Lost, you had to know a little bit about a lot of things to have any idea what was going down and normally I would have shut off the television and moved on with my night - namely by reading or trying to fall asleep to a tivoed Chelsey Lately episode.

But that "look out there's a monster coming" really stuck in my head.  So I had to look up the skit on hulu.  Then I did some very cursory research on google and apparently this is not an original song, it was written and performed by a band called Bonzo Dog, sometimes called the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band.

So naturally these questions evolved:
Why is this song on the Craig Ferguson show?
What kind of band name is that?  Why does it have a long and short version?

Why is there a monster coming on this show or in a song?
Why is that little man dressed as a miniature S&M participant?
Who is that alligator?

"Why is this song on Craig Ferguson?" you might start with, since this simple show has brought up many questions (just like Lost, ya see?) and I'll tell you why: Craig Ferguson is apparently taking on a robot sidekick.  Just leads to more questions, right?

Why is he taking on a side kick, and why is that sidekick a robot with a mohawk who only knows eight catch phrases?  Is this a permanent thing?  And what kind of other songs did this band sing?

Apparently Bonzo Dog is a British band from the 60s that sometimes played on a kids' show called Do Not Adjust Your Set.  They sang other songs like I'm the Urban Spaceman and Can Blue Men Sing the Whites.  And they clearly did the psychedelic thing (which I always thought was 1960s code for experimenting with drugs?) since they had a song called Canyons of Your Mind.

Look buddy, you're going to have to google some of these things yourself.  I'm not your effing secretary and I have stuff to do, like set Craig Ferguson's show to Tivo so I can figure out what was going on.  Also, that skit was kinda funny...in a psychedelic way.

But as you can see, the more I learned the less I knew.  I hope you can see how I was totally Lost.

Heinous hair, soiled suits.
And only eight bywords to boot!
Not sure where Craig got the game plan.
To pick up a mystifying metal McMahon.

Consonance

As it turns out,* alliteration is a kind of consonance.  Consonance means the repetition of a consonant in writing, and alliteration means the repetition of a consonant at the beginning of words.

Two things about alliteration and consonance I would like to share;

First, Lewis Carrol, patron saint of this blog, was excellent at using consonance and alliteration, even when he was talking nonsense.  For instance, the poem I love so much from the Walrus and the Carpenter is a good example. He even manages to get an S sound to fit in with SH sounds when the Walrus is listing a few subjects he would like to discuss:

Of Shoes and Ships and Sealing-wax.
Of cabbages and kings.

It should be ridiculously easy to use consonance when you are making up words like "vorpal" to jive with "sword" but I guess you run the risk of people pronouncing them wrong.

The second thing I would like to note about consonance is that is tricks the reader's mind into thinking that you are an excellent writer because it makes things flow better.  (Again, see above nonsense verse.)

And really after that dreadfully didactic diatribe, all I have for you is this pitiful poem giving a different definition of consonance.  But it sounds enlightening because of the employment of alliteration.  (And then consonance there.)  Point proven.

Consonance: constantly conning you into regarding some writing as rhyming.

* I say "as it turns out" because you may be shocked by how little I research these monthly poetry types and devices before I use them.  Then again, maybe you had very low expectations.

Branching Out

[Ed. note: I have been having trouble with my internet at home, so I have quite a few entries written, but just have to get them edited and formatted now that I can get on again, or at this second anyway.  Aren't I just full of excuses?]

I spent a night this weekend at the family ranch and I forgot how peaceful it is out there.   The dogs loved it and I had a great time sitting around doing nothing.  I think if everyone had a ranch/farm/lazy lakehouse, this world might be a better place.

The creaking of crickets
Are relaxing and comforting
Instead of an indication
Of a failed joke.

The sound of a train on the tracks
Serves as an indicator of bedtime
And not a sign
that you will be stuck in traffic.

Knee high grass is a home for fireflies
Rather than a reminder
To get out the mower.

Time spent together
takes a different cadence
When you don't have to rush off
To work or carpool or class.

Side Note

For an example of excellent use of alliteration in marketing, please check out this entry on DontEvenReply.com.

Thanks to Mike for the site introduction.

Ty One On!

Another very pressing matter that the world needs to know is that I have a new puppy.  I have not had the best luck with puppies in the past (see the story of Buck) but I am hoping this will be a much happier story.

His name is Ty (short for Tayau which is the Cajun word for a big old hungry slobbery hound dog.)

Ty is freakin adorable.  He is eerily similar in description to Buck which I worry makes me some kind of crazy dog replacer but my sister says I just have a type.  I prefer that explanation.


So back to how adorable he is, I must say that he is changing by the day.  He has already gone from this:

To this carpet-wetting shiny eyed monster:

Seriously though, he is a joy most of the time and he and the monster are getting along well.  You know I'm a big fan of dogs so I'm sure you will be seeing more of these pictures.  I love the ears now, which remind me of those triangular garden flags people hang.  Maybe state flags for the land adorable.

Ty's tiny teeth
Hardly hurt at all
Until a few weeks later
When they're bigger than I recall.

He sits soundlessly in my lap
Curled up like a dinner roll
It was only half my lap
Now he takes it up in whole

Afraid of actions and sounds
As in, every one under the sun!
But suddenly he runs 'round the ranch
Exploring and having fun.

He started a tiny puppy
But is almost the size of a horse.
He is somehow outgrowing me
With no sign at all of remorse.

Talk About A Belated Birthday

A big event I missed in March that I am trying to pathetically make up for now is my dear friend Trbo's bday.  Just under a month ago, Trbo turned...well...a year or so younger than I just did but suffice it to say it was a big one.  I'm not really sure what kind of poem this is, but much like the lady it describes, it marches to the beat of its own drum.

Trbo, this one goes out to you.  Happy very belated birthday.

Simply waking up to sleek, slatted hardwood
Or serene chessies sleeping right where they last serenely stood.
These are not simple luxuries Sarah's recently understood.

She travels the world saving sovereign states and their systems of defense
Or maybe she works as a spy and the other job is purely pretense.
But that wouldn't explain her need for order which some would say is intense.

Maybe her cerebellum struggles to structure what otherwise is sloppy
Since she prefers your PJ pants long and stories that aren't too choppy.
And if you've never read Emily Post's Manners, I'm sure she'll let you borrow a copy.

So instead of cards or chocolates or a cheesy bouquet
I give her the image of the most sought-after girl in the saloon, tipping her beret.
Saying "I hope you're able to swallow a spirit or two on your rescheduled birthday!"

It's No April Fools Day Joke - We've Moved

So many things to discuss here; but I am going to limit this posting to the big move and the new monthly theme.  First, the new move.  What is worse than moving?  You have no idea how difficult it is to pack up a bunch of poetry.  The haiku poems came quietly and politely with a silent bow.  The name acrostics required a very loud roll call to rally.  The cinquains finally marched into a moving box five by five and the quatrains marched in four by four (ark-style.)  However, the Clerihews kept slapping each other across the face with gloves and dueling and the limericks were so drunk they fell right off their barstools and slept.  Don't even get me started on the roses are red poems, they were surprisingly thorny.

But everything is finished and we have moved.  And I hope this blog dies here and never has to move again.

As for the monthly theme:  I do have some news here.  As it turns out there are limit choices of relatively short poem types, so I am expanding the selection to literary devices as well.  This month's theme/literary device is alliteration, defined as the commencement of two or more words of a word group with the same letter, as in "apt alliteration's artful aid."  So this month's  "poetry type" is kind of a free style, but I will use alliteration in every post this month.

I assure you this is no April fools joke!  I feel obligated to append that to everything I say today.  I'm not a huge fan of April Fools Day because I think it usually has more mean pranks that funny pranks.  If you hear of a good one though, please feel free to share it in the comments section!

The fourth month's first day.
Full of new fools
Forged from festive follies
Fashioned in pursuit of fun
But often fuchsia-faced and flustered.
For far longer than any laughter lasts.