Mad World

15 12 2009

Ah, Tears for Fears… when have you ever been wrong?

Last night Doctor Rachel Maddow who errs in now way (except for the way that her teenyteenytiny section in the NBC Store in Rockefeller Center does not carry Mind Over Chatter shirts that fit me) was all over Sloppy Joe Lieberman last night like herpes on a Hilton (I said it and I stand by it).

Vodpod videos no longer available. Vodpod videos no longer available.

I cannot compete.  But I can sum it up with a little help from my friends Roland and Curt.

I can’t stand this indecision
married with a lack of vision
Everybody wants to rule the world.


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All of these presents and I don’t even have my tree yet.

8 12 2009

Kwannukahmas time is here.

Time for Christmas trees, Unity and awesome menorahs.

AWESOME!

The tree in Rockefeller Center is looking fantastic and my prune-dried soul is filling with Seasonal Feelings of goodwill.

I dedicate this tree to a certain Mr. Charles Brown

After-all, it is the time of giving.

And boy, has the Universe provided.

Yesterday, OOMFPAWWIHFOAMFOY, told me about Glenn Beck’s Christmas Sweater.  The “Glen Beck Experience” in which how he recounts how he was an ungrateful, hateful little asshat of a boy and crushed his poor mother’s heart (on Christmas no less) and then she died.  Now he’s telling his story to illustrate his redemption and his faith and to show us, the great man that he’s become.

This story…

Created this man…

Seems about right.

Last night though, my girlfriend, Rachel Maddow, Ph.D. (Doctor Maddow to you), gave me the best gift of the season.  [Wow, that sounds kind of dirty when you re-read it.  Go ahead, re-read it.  I will wait.]

Anyhoods, there was dancing with shades and a disco ball.  There was insightful news making and there was the sheer and utter delight that is Rachel Maddow.  The whole episode is genius.  But what really brought it home for me was the “I guess I’m racist” ad.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Thank you anti-health reform wingnuts for building this beautiful new toy in your workshops of terror.

You should watch Doctor Maddow’s clip for some very incisive commentary from (my other girlfriend who’s not Ana Marie Cox) Professor Melissa Harris-Lacewell.  [Another gift.]

The whole add for your chortling pleasure.

Here’s the thing.  If I was watching the television, as I am want to do, and I looked up and saw a majority of white faces¹ telling me that they were racist, I’d say, “Of course you are.  Now how do I get back to that other channel, I need to see if the Cowboys are going to win this game?”  “Or.  Okay, I hope you’re not interrupting my Fringe with this mess.  Because if you’re interfering in my deep and meaningful relationship with Olivia Dunham we are going to have words.”

What I mean is that I wouldn’t be surprised.  I’d be annoyed that you were using your white-privilege to disturb my sacred TV time to tell me, but… you’re a racist, you obviously don’t care about the wants and desires of little ol’ X-Files missing me.

In words of my very astute friends: If someone tells you about themselves, believe them.
I believe  you racists.

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¹And seriously, two black dudes and dude of Asian Pacific Islander decent.  I know it’s hard finding work as an actor and all, but… did you know what you were signing up for?  I mean, we’ve done our share of bad shows/movies/plays what have you.  But seriously?  We have all done things that are going to get us kicked out of our respective clubs.

I’m just saying… Black Dudes… be on the look out for operatives from SCAN.





TV does it.

6 12 2009

I have always been a self-soother.  I hum to myself.  I stroke my collarbone and I rock.  Sometimes I do all three things at once.

And lately, with all of the crazy we’ve been experiencing here, I’ve been watching a lot of TV (and eating a lot of macaroni and cheese) to soothe myself.

One of my favourite TV related soothing mechanisms is watching Christmas commercials and making snide comments about them.
To date, this Audit commercial is my favourite.

Do you see what I see?

Ringing through this ad customer?
The smug the smug, in the yuletide night:
When you’ve a car you don’t need those low class lights.
Why be a neighbor when you can shine your high-beams bright?

On Friday night I spent a perplexingly relaxing 22 minutes watching Iman hawk her wares on HSN during the IMAN Global Chic ‘Time To Shine’ power hour(s).  I watched with rapt attention as Iman and Connie, the HSN host, goaded us into buying Iman’s “Patent Logo Bag with Chain Strap” by telling us that it was Iman’s last time on HSN until March (and that we could just put it on our credit card to bring it home for under $30 using Flex-Pay).

Iman was impatient, and beautiful, and “needed to explain” things to us, and COULD NOT BELIEVE (Can you believe it!) that everything she was selling was so cheap.  She was wearing leggings and a sparkle top.  She was selling these terrible bags through the sheer force of her glamour and her “Now, how chic is that?”  And really, who’s going to argue with Iman?
I watched as she sold nearly a thousand bags in 20 minutes.  It was glorious.

It was the best 22 commercial free minutes of television that I’d seen in the past 3 weeks – just the tidings of comfort and joy that I’ve been needing.