The Superbowl was surprisingly exciting last night, although most of the ads were sort of lame and formulaic. Look elsewhere for analysis of the game. Although the very existence of a sports commentating and analysis industry proves that I’m wrong, as far as I know, it was just a football game. Yay Saints.
As for the ads, oh, look – a sexually suggestive Go Daddy Ad. The Google ad was touching, yes – but it actually showed someone using Google as a person might actually use Google, and it’s a product we’re as familiar with as we are with Coke. Speaking of Coke, I didn’t get why a sleepwalking guy camping out in the Serengeti might need caffeine in the middle of the night, and the Simpsons haven’t been really watercooler-funny in a decade. The Doritos ads were clever, as was the Snickers ad with Betty White and Abe Vigoda. Audi had a cute ad for the A3 TDI poking fun at environmental “green police” while an eponymous song parody of Cheap Trick’s “Dream Police” was playing.
But right afterwards, CBS premiered a show called “Undercover Boss”. I watched as the COO of Waste Management sorted recycling in Syracuse, cleaned portable toilets in Florida, picked up trash on a landfill, shadowed an overworked office manager in Fairport, and rode along collecting trash in Rochester. He was impressed by the dedication of his front-line employees, who didn’t know the boss of bosses was riding along with them. He also got to see his “productivity” initiatives put into action, and the reality didn’t match the theory.
And in the end, when he revealed himself, he pledged changes so, for instance, the female garbage truck driver doesn’t have to pee in a coffee can so as to stay on her route and meet her productivity target, and the woman in Syracuse wouldn’t get docked two minutes’ pay for every minute she was late clocking back in after lunch.
But in a world where big businesses like Waste Management pay more attention to the bottom line and the investor class than in their own employees, it was fascinating to watch – made even more so by the fact that almost all the jobs highlighted are filthy blue-collar jobs that are back-breaking and unglamorous. It was dramatic when this executive saw that his company relies on its customers and front-line employees more than it relies on middle management or some day trader. It highlighted the dignity inherent even in the least desirable work.
What a concept. I loved the show.
Funny or Die sets itself up as a contemporary version of the National Lampoon:
Clearly, there are two sides to every story. (Language NSFW)
It’s why people have become ignorant and stupid, our discourse has become sub-elementary, and we have actual discussions over, e.g., whether creationism should be taught in schools.
You’re entitled to your own opinion, but you’re not entitled to your own facts.
The Buffalo Sabres have announced their plans to torture their fans while on the (now) six-game road trip starting tomorrow on Long Island. Here’s the game-by-game breakdown:
I’m not trying to sound overly negative because three years ago they didn’t air a bunch of West Coast games at all and left us just the radio feeds, but frankly, this sucks. I guess that perhaps people who don’t have the Center Ice package might enjoy listening to other teams announcers from time to time, but it isn’t that exciting to me. Synching my DVR and radio is one option, but usually I sit back and accept the fact I am stuck listening to guys who are rooting against Buffalo.
I was hoping we would get at least one game with Rick Jeanneret’s son.
When I first heard that David Letterman made a joke referencing Obama’s transgender appointee, I was disappointed. But once I watched the clip, I realized it was just a joke, not a back handed, subtext laden, attempt to discriminate against the transgender community or a way to encourage transphobia. Why do I believe this? Because I myself have made jokes referencing me, or even others, having sex with women – the jokes usually centering around what I consider to be a repugnant act, you know, me, having sex with a woman, ew… Am I a heterophob? Absolutely not. The joke in no way suggested that she was not suitable to be appointed, in no way told the viewers that she did not deserve equality or respect, and in no way made fun of her because she was transgender.
What were we really laughing at? The fact that a man was shocked that he had had sex with someone who used to be a man, someone he did not want to have sex with. As a gay man, I would be appalled to wake up naked next to a woman, how is this different? I don’t think this joke invites, or encourages, anyone to physically harm someone, admonish them, or deny them equality.
Don’t get me wrong, I can see the HRC’s point. Such jokes perpetuate the idea that the transgender community is abnormal, but when we scream and shout over simple minded jokes like this, we invite society to complain that we constantly cry wolf.
Conservative example? Noelle Nikpour, a regular Fox News contributor, concocted the ridiculous notion that the White House was indoctrinating children by asking them to paint Christmas ornaments. Let’s not Nikpour the Letterman joke. Let’s laugh together, as we have at countless “Just Jack” or Joan River jokes that “enforce stereotypes.” Humor is sometimes crude, but in a way it brings issues to the forefront. Think, would Letterman have even been comfortable making a transgender joke 10 years ago? I think not.
Please, share your thoughts and comments.

With the surprise announcement that she’s vacating her talk show at the end of this season, the real dirt is beginning to surface about everyone’s third-favorite (fourth if you count Montell) African American talk show host: Tyra Banks.
According to a headline in the NY Daily News: “Tyra Banks was a terror to work with.” Count me as among the truly SHOCKED! I would never guess that a former supermodel who was now being forced to interview a women with two vaginas would ever foist diva-centric behavior on her underlings. What is this, “The Devil Wears Baby Phat!?” Add on to that her other full-time job of heckling modeling wannabes on their “fierceness” and “smizing” abilities, and you’ll see that this simply CAN’T be true!
So hats off to you Tyra! Here’s hoping that you find the contentment you’re after, or at least a ribs place that’s open past 11. And props to our girl Wendy Williams, who continues her media domination via lack of diva, and staying on the air!
The Infamous Woman With Two Va-jay-jays:
You begin watching a new television series, and you immediately find yourself strongly relating to one of the supporting characters. You’ve never before experienced a TV character that seems so similar to yourself; this fictional person dresses, behaves and talks exactly like you. And – slowly, over the course of several episodes – the similarity grows spooky; on two separate occasions, the character recounts personal anecdotes that happened in your real life. The actor portraying this character begins mimicking your mannerisms. In at least three different episodes, the character’s dialog quotes things that you have said (verbatim) during casual conversation. You become convinced that this is neither coincidence nor mental illness: somehow, this character is being actively based on your life. The show’s writers generally depict the “you” character in a positive manner, but – as far as you can tell – you don’t know anyone involved in the show’s production or creation. It’s totally inexplicable. You have two friends who also watch this show. One of them is certain that your theory is correct and that (somehow) the character is, in fact, based on your life. She tells you to get a lawyer. The second friend concedes that many of the similarities are amazing, but that the whole notion is ridiculous, impossible, and egocentric. He tells you to see a therapist. How do you respond to this situation? Do you do anything?
Part of me says to just laugh it off and enjoy watching my hi-jinks played out as part of a TV show (a silly dream of mine, actually; a friend and I have plans to create a sitcom out of my previous job at a watch kiosk. We’re COM kids, that’s what we do) because it’s not as though it’s causing me any harm. The only way this would really start to freak me out is if they deviated from my life history by jumping into the future and showing what my life was supposedly going to be like, or killed me off. I’d definitely need a therapist after that, especially if what the show portrayed started coming true.
The other part of me agrees that I should get a lawyer and go after them for some royalties. I’m not sure I’d have much of a case because of that “All characters and events portrayed are based solely in fiction, and any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental” disclaimer thingy they put at the end of shows — but, then again, I highly doubt the lawyers who came up with that statement anticipated anything quite like this. If I have a strong enough case that EVERYTHING happening on this show has happened to me in real life, that’s probably an entirely different story. Who knows, maybe they’re getting all “Truman Show” on me and secretly taping me, and then we’ve got invasion of privacy suits and a whole bunch of other junk, and before you know it — poof! I’m winning lawsuits left and right and becoming a millionaire without even writing my sitcom (or my best-selling novel…I have plans) — but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Then there’s the other part of me that says that my life isn’t possibly interesting enough for a sitcom, so why are we even talking about this? There are certain humorous parts and thoughts, but those fit well enough in writing that a TV show just isn’t necessary. However, if anyone would like to follow in the path of Jen Lancaster, Julie Powell, David Sedaris (hysterical, by the way, and sums up everything I ever felt about working retail in “The SantaLand Diaries,” which I just read/heard for the first time today), the chicks that wrote “The Devil Wears Prada”, “The Perfect Manhattan” (woo! for a Nardin grad — but I forget which one) and “The Nanny Diaries,” etc. etc., and make my writing (with my consent) or my life (without my consent) into a New York Times best-seller, by all means, have at it.
If you do the latter, though, be prepared for some big-time lawyers at your doors. You’ve been warned ;P
Adam Richman > Tony Bourdain > Andrew Zimmern > Guy Fieri.
Bourdain is the legendary chef who wrote an iconic expose of the restaurant biz, and the places he goes and people he meets are all incredible, but side by side, I prefer Richman’s Man v. Food.
Richman is funny and personable, and he’s got real knowledge about cooking and the restaurant industry. When he takes a bite of something, he is descriptive and concise in discussing the flavors and mouthfeel. While Bourdain seems to use food as a way to travel, Richman travels to eat. The food challenges are entertaining and suspenseful, but I especially like the first half of the show when he highlights a special restaurant in a city.
Andrew Zimmern isn’t that funny, isn’t that interesting, and is all about eating gross stuff, like sucking the jelly out of a fish’s eye. Yeah, no thanks. I don’t care if it’s a delicacy in Samoa.
Guy Fieri annoys me to my core. The gravelly voice, the douchey spiked hair, the sunglasses tucked into the nape of his neck. Every inch of him screams, “I am here to annoy you”, and he’s absolutely unwatchable.
Although most of Buffalo seems to hate the snow (why live here?), or at least pretend to hate the snow (why not admit you love it?), what I like even more are the forecasts of doom foisted upon Buffalonians with every warning from the National Weather Service.
For some reason, local news affiliates seem to get their jollies predicting death and destruction. Last night, in near-contestant beeping scrolls across our TV screens, we were warned of pending winter storm watches, winter storm warnings, lake effect whatnots, high wind advisories, possible earthquake aftershocks and the potential for a Hellmouth to form under a local high school releasing vampires into the community.

Now I understand that local weather forecasters feel the need to get it right. After the November 20th storm in 2000, and the “October Surprise” storm (which always sounded too much like a Betty Crockerized dessert for my liking), they feel the need to err on the side of caution. I won’t name names, but one very popular local meteorologist, who LOVES weather, frontal systems, etc, seems innately programed to freak the audience out at every mention of a warning or watch. Like a horror movie, his panic-inducing forecasts are usually prefaced by some kind of offhand “don’t spaz out” disclaimer, which only seems to heighten the fear.

If I had to guess, I’d say that Buffalonians like the fake panic. Let’s face it, we don’t have a lot of traffic, crime is reasonable, and the economy hasn’t tanked in WNY like it has in many other communities of our size around the nation. So, we take the action where we can get it, and that’s usually coming from the west and getting warmed up by the lake. We dutifully make a trip to Wegmans, complain about the lack of bread and milk left from the run on food, and buy some beer to keep us company. As long as the cable and internet stay on, there’s not too much to complain about, plus you’ll usually have some leftovers to eat the next day when the storm doesn’t hit.
About 10 years ago, I was talking to a friend on the phone, and mentioned a story I’d seen on CBS Sunday Morning. She cut me off me instantly. “OMG, I thought I was the only person under 60 who watched that!”
And so it began… my fascination, love and respect for a show that no one admits to watching; until the story is so spectacular, out of left field, or memorable that they can’t get it out of their heads. That, essentially, is what CBS Sunday Morning is all about. Imagine the a Sunday newspaper features section, represented on television. Guided adroitly by Charles Osgood, Sunday Morning is 90 minutes of long-form stories, most of which you’d never see on another TV show. Examples?
And that was just today. Sunday Morning is the quintessential show for the best day of the week. Laid back and inquisitive, it’s everything that cable news or a network morning show is not. Find another place on TV where wit, the arts, and the world we live in are celebrated on a weekly basis, and I’ll backtrack. But you won’t.
Oh, and if you like drinking, get a TiVo. It makes catching the 9 a.m. show much easier.
Here are a few pieces from Sunday Morning, one on the ping pong lounge, and another on a dog separated from his family. Warning, the dog story is a tearjerker.