WEEDING OUT THE STUPID
Bollywood. Home of the Stars and center of the Indian movie universe. With athletic, muscled heroes;dusky, pouting heroines; endless dance routines; throbbing bhangra music; and more colors than an explosion at a Sherwin-Williams factory, the Bollywood bandwagon is a Mecca for Asian cinemaphiles.
Alas, it suffers from one of the same maladies that its poorer cousin, Hollywood, suffers from; namely that some people take it far too seriously.
Take the new blockbuster, Krrish. This ersatz Superman, played by Hrithik Roshan, can leap tall Taj's in a single bound, and has super powers other than the ability to sing and dance. The film's director, Rakesh Roshan, says that "Yes, he (Krrish) has superpowers and he's different from Superman, Spiderman and Batman..." I think he means that he doesn't wear Spandex.
But already, some fans have taken to heart the notion that "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" - and in this case, imitation ends up as a form of flattening. At least two people have ended up injured after abortive attempts to fly; a feat that they apparantly thought was eminently possible.
Roshan has been out and about reminding people that Krrish cannot fly, that all the actions in the movie use stunt doubles, and that anyone stupid enough to think they can fly deserves to be weeded out of the gene pool. Well, he hasn't actually said that latter comment, but he damn well should.
One idiot is an 11-year-old boy, who might be expected to be one clove less than a full bulb of garlic, but the other is a 24-year-old man, who clearly is at the same mental level as the boy, although with a smaller brain.
Tragically, both lived and may therefore go on to infect the world with more Stupids. Unless, of course, they spill boiling hot coffee on their genitalia and end up sterile.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
LIMBAUGH'S LATEST LEGAL LAPSE
For those who enjoy playing the "Which is Worse?" game, here's a new one to add:
If you're Rush Limbaugh, which is worse: (a) being found with a jar of non-prescription pills in you luggage when you're not supposed to have them, or (b) being found with a jar of non-prescription Viagra in your luggage when you're not supposed to have them?
Well, Rush is playing this one at home, folks. Following a three-hour chat with some nice customs people at West Palm Beach airport on Monday. On arriving from his vacation in the Dominican republic, Rush "I-have-been-totally-indicated" Limbaugh had a bottle of Viagra taken from him because there was no name on any prescription.
It seems that he has changed from non-prescribed pain killers to non-prescribed pleasure makers. I suppose there's more than one way to cure a headache.
According to Rush's attorney, Roy Black - who must be on Rush's speed-dial - the Viagra had been legitimately prescribed but the bottle had been "labeled as being issued to the physician rather than Mr. Limbaugh for privacy purposes."
Ah, so that explains it. You and I would just have our names printed in bold, highlighted in yellow, and have to listen to the pharmacy assistant shout across the store "Hey, how many Viagra tablets are there supposed to be in this dudes jar?" but Rush gets away with needing privacy.
Look, if the dude's having problems getting it up - and that would at least explain why he seems to permanently have a stick up his rear end - that's none of my business. But if he's breaking the law by obtaining illegal drugs while he's still being monitored for his previous episode of using non-prescribed painkillers, then he should be hit just as hard as any other working stiff out there. A kid takes an ibruprofen to school and gets suspended under a "zero tolerance" rule, but Rush can get hold of bottles of whatever and rely on his money and position to get him off any hooks.
File this one under the "...with Liberty, and Justice, for All??" label.
For those who enjoy playing the "Which is Worse?" game, here's a new one to add:
If you're Rush Limbaugh, which is worse: (a) being found with a jar of non-prescription pills in you luggage when you're not supposed to have them, or (b) being found with a jar of non-prescription Viagra in your luggage when you're not supposed to have them?
Well, Rush is playing this one at home, folks. Following a three-hour chat with some nice customs people at West Palm Beach airport on Monday. On arriving from his vacation in the Dominican republic, Rush "I-have-been-totally-indicated" Limbaugh had a bottle of Viagra taken from him because there was no name on any prescription.
It seems that he has changed from non-prescribed pain killers to non-prescribed pleasure makers. I suppose there's more than one way to cure a headache.
According to Rush's attorney, Roy Black - who must be on Rush's speed-dial - the Viagra had been legitimately prescribed but the bottle had been "labeled as being issued to the physician rather than Mr. Limbaugh for privacy purposes."
Ah, so that explains it. You and I would just have our names printed in bold, highlighted in yellow, and have to listen to the pharmacy assistant shout across the store "Hey, how many Viagra tablets are there supposed to be in this dudes jar?" but Rush gets away with needing privacy.
Look, if the dude's having problems getting it up - and that would at least explain why he seems to permanently have a stick up his rear end - that's none of my business. But if he's breaking the law by obtaining illegal drugs while he's still being monitored for his previous episode of using non-prescribed painkillers, then he should be hit just as hard as any other working stiff out there. A kid takes an ibruprofen to school and gets suspended under a "zero tolerance" rule, but Rush can get hold of bottles of whatever and rely on his money and position to get him off any hooks.
File this one under the "...with Liberty, and Justice, for All??" label.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
KIM JONG'S LONG DONG SCARES NO WONG
In yet another attempt to hog the international limelight, North Korea are poised to launch their third long-range missile in 13 years. In fairness, that's more missiles that Kate Bush albums over the same period, but it's not exactly a prolific arms development strategy. The Taepodong 2 succeeds the Taepodong 1, which when last fired in 1998 failed to deliver a satellite into orbit.
Although the world community is having a snit at the presumptuous nature of Kim Jong Il's latest display of "my dick's bigger than yours," when considered as part of a global threat, his ballistic missile program is suffering from erectile dysfunction. Here's a country with an estimated GDP of $40 billion and the following glowing economy as supplied by the CIA Fact Book:
North Korea, one of the world's most centrally planned and isolated economies, faces desperate economic conditions. Industrial capital stock is nearly beyond repair as a result of years of underinvestment and shortages of spare parts. Industrial and power output have declined in parallel. Despite an increased harvest in 2005 because of more stable weather conditions, fertilizer assistance from South Korea, and an extraordinary mobilization of the population to help with agricultural production, the nation has suffered its 11th year of food shortages because of on-going systemic problems, including a lack of arable land, collective farming practices, and chronic shortages of tractors and fuel. Massive international food aid deliveries have allowed the people of North Korea to escape mass starvation since famine threatened in 1995, but the population continues to suffer from prolonged malnutrition and poor living conditions. Large-scale military spending eats up resources needed for investment and civilian consumption.
For "military spending," feel free to include "Taepodong 2." Now, bearing in mind the tragic nature of the economy, and the fact that this is a test missile that has taken some 6 years to build, and the spectacular non-success of the earlier version (that tumbled into the sea somewhere off Japan), how scary is the threat? Maybe the missile could reach Alaska; maybe it could carry a nuclear warhead; maybe the are 200 more of them hidden away somewhere pointing at many different targets across Asia. But that's a lot of maybe's.
I, for one, would actually like them to shoot their load now because the resulting detumescence might shut them up for a while. Unless there's been a spectacular and secret upturn in the economy, the next test should be sometime in 2012 - by which time Kim Jong Il may have been hit by a bus; or at least a decent hair stylist.
It's also worth mentioning that the launch is being delayed because of bad weather. According to CNN, "Analysts say clouds and storms would make it difficult for North Korea to track a missile once in flight, decreasing the likelihood of a launch."
Great. A missile so good that if it's a bit cloudy, nobody knows where the fuck it is! So much for the North Korean airspace tracking technology. Hey, even a blind man in a Cesna can land in fog at La Guardia. It seems like the North Korean version of an "autopilot" is a monkey called Skip strapped into the nose cone.
So while the impotent potentate of North Korea stamps his feet and kicks the side of the playpen, the rest of the grown ups would be better served by ignoring the tantrum and focusing on real issues - like Iran, Iraq, and Palestine?
In yet another attempt to hog the international limelight, North Korea are poised to launch their third long-range missile in 13 years. In fairness, that's more missiles that Kate Bush albums over the same period, but it's not exactly a prolific arms development strategy. The Taepodong 2 succeeds the Taepodong 1, which when last fired in 1998 failed to deliver a satellite into orbit.
Although the world community is having a snit at the presumptuous nature of Kim Jong Il's latest display of "my dick's bigger than yours," when considered as part of a global threat, his ballistic missile program is suffering from erectile dysfunction. Here's a country with an estimated GDP of $40 billion and the following glowing economy as supplied by the CIA Fact Book:
North Korea, one of the world's most centrally planned and isolated economies, faces desperate economic conditions. Industrial capital stock is nearly beyond repair as a result of years of underinvestment and shortages of spare parts. Industrial and power output have declined in parallel. Despite an increased harvest in 2005 because of more stable weather conditions, fertilizer assistance from South Korea, and an extraordinary mobilization of the population to help with agricultural production, the nation has suffered its 11th year of food shortages because of on-going systemic problems, including a lack of arable land, collective farming practices, and chronic shortages of tractors and fuel. Massive international food aid deliveries have allowed the people of North Korea to escape mass starvation since famine threatened in 1995, but the population continues to suffer from prolonged malnutrition and poor living conditions. Large-scale military spending eats up resources needed for investment and civilian consumption.
For "military spending," feel free to include "Taepodong 2." Now, bearing in mind the tragic nature of the economy, and the fact that this is a test missile that has taken some 6 years to build, and the spectacular non-success of the earlier version (that tumbled into the sea somewhere off Japan), how scary is the threat? Maybe the missile could reach Alaska; maybe it could carry a nuclear warhead; maybe the are 200 more of them hidden away somewhere pointing at many different targets across Asia. But that's a lot of maybe's.
I, for one, would actually like them to shoot their load now because the resulting detumescence might shut them up for a while. Unless there's been a spectacular and secret upturn in the economy, the next test should be sometime in 2012 - by which time Kim Jong Il may have been hit by a bus; or at least a decent hair stylist.
It's also worth mentioning that the launch is being delayed because of bad weather. According to CNN, "Analysts say clouds and storms would make it difficult for North Korea to track a missile once in flight, decreasing the likelihood of a launch."
Great. A missile so good that if it's a bit cloudy, nobody knows where the fuck it is! So much for the North Korean airspace tracking technology. Hey, even a blind man in a Cesna can land in fog at La Guardia. It seems like the North Korean version of an "autopilot" is a monkey called Skip strapped into the nose cone.
So while the impotent potentate of North Korea stamps his feet and kicks the side of the playpen, the rest of the grown ups would be better served by ignoring the tantrum and focusing on real issues - like Iran, Iraq, and Palestine?
Monday, June 19, 2006
BLUETOOTH EARPHONE DORKY? YOU BET YOUR LIFE IT IS
Add another chapter to the as-yet unwritten book about cell phone etiquette called The Unbearable Rudeness of Being. With the introduction of the Bluetooth headset, cell phone egotists can now become even more obnoxious. Using the same reasoning that lead people to (a) buy Chia pets, (b) wear spandex, and (c) think shares in Enron were a "sure thing," cellaholics are taking to walking around with a large - but supposedly discrete - chunk of metal in their ears, imagining themselves to look cool, important, and edgy, whereas in truth, they look as if they are taking a lunch break from a sci-fi movie involving the Borg.
Glenn O'Brien, GQ magazine's Style Guy, offers the following advice to a recent Bluetooth wannabee:
Q: "I am a 23-year-old cell-phone-store manager and have been asked this question frequently by customers. Does a Bluetooth headset make one look professional and technologically savvy—or like a Star Trek freak ready for the next convention?"
A: "Generally speaking, a Bluetooth headset makes a man look like a Ferengi, the dweebiest of alien species. I saw a man in an expensive conservative suit and a camel-hair overcoat walking along Park Avenue the other day with this thingamabob stuck on his head, and I wished I had my digital camera with me. If you are going to wear a Bluetooth headset on the street, you should also be wearing a Day-Glo jumpsuit, goggles, and a cape."
And it's not just the dorky look that speaks volumes about the wearer. The fact that someone would wear one of these in company, ready to interrupt a face-to-face conversation in preference to a disembodied voice from somewhere else, screams out to me something along the lines of "Hey, I know we're having a chat here, but you're not as important as the unknown person who's calling me."
At what stage did the notion of "love the one you're with" become "physical presence is overrated anyway"? I'm waiting for the day that I can buy a pocket cell phone jammer and watch terrified cellaholics go into panic mode when they realize that their signal has been lost and they have to - gulp - focus on the here-and-now rather than be hooked into a virtual world of disembodied voices.
Add another chapter to the as-yet unwritten book about cell phone etiquette called The Unbearable Rudeness of Being. With the introduction of the Bluetooth headset, cell phone egotists can now become even more obnoxious. Using the same reasoning that lead people to (a) buy Chia pets, (b) wear spandex, and (c) think shares in Enron were a "sure thing," cellaholics are taking to walking around with a large - but supposedly discrete - chunk of metal in their ears, imagining themselves to look cool, important, and edgy, whereas in truth, they look as if they are taking a lunch break from a sci-fi movie involving the Borg.
Glenn O'Brien, GQ magazine's Style Guy, offers the following advice to a recent Bluetooth wannabee:
Q: "I am a 23-year-old cell-phone-store manager and have been asked this question frequently by customers. Does a Bluetooth headset make one look professional and technologically savvy—or like a Star Trek freak ready for the next convention?"
A: "Generally speaking, a Bluetooth headset makes a man look like a Ferengi, the dweebiest of alien species. I saw a man in an expensive conservative suit and a camel-hair overcoat walking along Park Avenue the other day with this thingamabob stuck on his head, and I wished I had my digital camera with me. If you are going to wear a Bluetooth headset on the street, you should also be wearing a Day-Glo jumpsuit, goggles, and a cape."
And it's not just the dorky look that speaks volumes about the wearer. The fact that someone would wear one of these in company, ready to interrupt a face-to-face conversation in preference to a disembodied voice from somewhere else, screams out to me something along the lines of "Hey, I know we're having a chat here, but you're not as important as the unknown person who's calling me."
At what stage did the notion of "love the one you're with" become "physical presence is overrated anyway"? I'm waiting for the day that I can buy a pocket cell phone jammer and watch terrified cellaholics go into panic mode when they realize that their signal has been lost and they have to - gulp - focus on the here-and-now rather than be hooked into a virtual world of disembodied voices.
Friday, June 16, 2006
PLEASE, NO MORE "WHAT HAPPENS IN X STAYS IN X"
Despite the bleatings and petty paranoia of many Francophobes, the French have given the world many glorious and wonderful things. High up on this list are Sophie Marceau, Vanessa Demouy, Calvados, Barbarella, the Statue of Liberty, the bikini, Voltaire, and Roquefort cheese.
But let's not forget the contribution to language - which includes the word language itself (from the Old french langue). For me, one of the premiere words that has found its way into the English lexicon is cliche - a trite, hackneyed phrase that has become over-used and common.
And here it is, my award winner for the "Now-It's-Time-To-Wrap-This-Puppy-In-A-Bag-And-Toss-It-In-A-River" award for 2006, which is "What happens in X stays in X." Brought to public attention as a funny tag line for promoters of Las Vegas vacations, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" has quickly spawned a viral plague of irritating imitations, typically used by people whose own sense of wit is stunted to the point of being non-existent. Using someone else's quip with a transparent modification is not humor - it's derivitive and dumb.
So stand up and be counted by refusing to laugh when some uninventive bozo at a drunken party in Bumhole, Arkansas says "Hey dude, what happens in Bumhole stays in Bumhole" and instead, feel free to take any large, vaguely pointed object in the near vicinity and insert it into the bozo's most sensitive bodiliy orifice.
Despite the bleatings and petty paranoia of many Francophobes, the French have given the world many glorious and wonderful things. High up on this list are Sophie Marceau, Vanessa Demouy, Calvados, Barbarella, the Statue of Liberty, the bikini, Voltaire, and Roquefort cheese.
But let's not forget the contribution to language - which includes the word language itself (from the Old french langue). For me, one of the premiere words that has found its way into the English lexicon is cliche - a trite, hackneyed phrase that has become over-used and common.
And here it is, my award winner for the "Now-It's-Time-To-Wrap-This-Puppy-In-A-Bag-And-Toss-It-In-A-River" award for 2006, which is "What happens in X stays in X." Brought to public attention as a funny tag line for promoters of Las Vegas vacations, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" has quickly spawned a viral plague of irritating imitations, typically used by people whose own sense of wit is stunted to the point of being non-existent. Using someone else's quip with a transparent modification is not humor - it's derivitive and dumb.
So stand up and be counted by refusing to laugh when some uninventive bozo at a drunken party in Bumhole, Arkansas says "Hey dude, what happens in Bumhole stays in Bumhole" and instead, feel free to take any large, vaguely pointed object in the near vicinity and insert it into the bozo's most sensitive bodiliy orifice.
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