Death Becomes Him

It was recently brought to my attention that the devil has been defeated.

I’m embarrassed to report that one got right past me.

I guess I’ve been spending too much time watching Fox.

I’m Having
A Hell of a Time

Frighten the Children

Nearly ten years ago, a movie about a cannibalistic serial killer and a young FBI cadet took home five Oscars – the big ones even Citizen Cane, Taxi Driver, Shawshank Redemption and It’s a Wonderful Life couldn’t win. Audiences were gruesomely delighted to watch Anthony Hopkins, Jodie Foster and director Jonathan Demme make movie magic by unleashing a skin-stripping madman onto the screen. The movie grossed upwards of 130-million and sent the sales of fava beans and Chianti through the roof.

Sir Tony grabbed his Best Actor statuette for 16-minutes of on-camera work playing psychiatrist-cum-psychopath Hannibal Lecter — a man-muncher in a muzzle. Then he got another two gigs out of it.

Please Leave
The Lights On

How Old Are You, Anyway?

“Don’t screw with it,” she said to me sternly, making eye contact to compound the message’s severity.

“Can you really expect me not to?” I laughed.

“Just stop. You can’t put it on the dogs, or the cats or the stuffed animals. Or on you. You can’t use it as a wrist rocket. It is not part of a Halloween costume. It doesn’t get touched or contaminated in any way. For God’s sake, how old are you?”

I have no idea.

Past My Prime
And Immature

Faceless

From the time I was very young, I was positioned to believe technology would make my world better a better place. Better, defined as more efficient, more carefree and definitely more fun. It was just a matter of time before Rosie, a sassy robotic maid, would assume all of my cumbersome chores, leaving me free to whirl around in flying cars, visit mars and live under the ocean in a geodesic dome. While some of those predictions have come true – like babies conceived in test tubes, Wi-Fi and artificial cheese, we have yet to develop self-cleaning clothes, intelligence pills or – my personal favorite – the paperless society.

The Talking Thumbs
Will Rule the World

Godzilla vs. The Mighty Mighty Starbucks

If Charles Darwin had his way, everyone living in Seattle would be reptilian. Not that that’s a bad thing. Seattleites would likely welcome one massive webbed hand to hold hot coffee cups, moisture repellant skin, and the ability to climb vertical surfaces.

Seattle is as hilly as San Francisco, as gloomy as London and as caffinated as any town we know.

In many studies, Seattle tops London as the wettest, most overcast city. No wonder it housed R.E.I. and Eddie Bauer corporate headquarters. People in Seattle know their technical clothing. Nowhere have I seen so much breathable waterproof, wicking, lightweight nylon environment hugging material in all my life.

As topography goes, Seattle is no molehill. Twenty of the busiest streets in its epicenter feature a gradient of between 18- to 21-percent. By comparison, San Francisco’s Filbert Street tops out at a whopping 31.5-percent. Still, if you finished Seattle’s 39th Annual Marathon, as did my travel companion, it beats Eight Mile all to hell.

Seattle offers coffee drinkers a java paradise. It’s listed as the city with the most coffee houses, including the original Starbucks in the Pike Place Market.

If you believe in natural selection, expect to see future citizens of Emerald City evolved into a Godzilla-like creature. Oh, and with tiny thumbs for texting.

Believe Me, It’s Personal

I’m really having a hard time getting my head around the phrase, “It’s nothing personal.” Every time it’s been delivered to me, I’ve inferred “personal” is exactly what it is. The line has come to be a precursor of doom – something told to people who are about to be clobbered with horrible news – that they’ve been cheated on, that they’re being dumped, that they’re about to be massively fucked over in some business deal, or that they’re about to be canned. The worst part of the phrase is the insincerity and superiority with which it is used. I want to say to the person delivering the lie, “Come on man, we both know it’s personal, let’s not pretend it isn’t.”

Screwing me over is bad enough, but don’t mistake me for stupid.

I’m a Person
Therefore It’s Personal

Does “For Better or For Worse” Include Sleeping with a Howler Monkey?

A report out of the University of California, Irvine claims upwards of 50-percent of the U.S. population snores at one time or another. Scientists in the school’s Department of Otolaryngology categorize snoring according to, among other things, volume. “Significant” snoring, which the recent study also calls “heroic,” is defined as snoring that can be heard “more than two bedrooms away.”

Yankee sleepers are not alone. According to the BBC, three-quarters of Brits are afflicted by the habit. A Travelodge study there revealed much more about snoring than amplification. Many locals revealed that their snores repelled potential partners, amorous advances, and even the lewdly delightful booty call.

Snoring can be so damaging to relationships that in 1971 it was declared legal grounds for divorce. While not an ideal solution to the problem, it is agreeably much better than the plan that includes homicide. Unfortunately history is full people who’ve made both choices.

I’m Not a Bad Person
I Just Snore

Just Throw Away The Key!

A local all-news radio station reported today that Mayor Dave Bing, a former professional basketball player, gave Elmo, a Muppet, the key to Detroit, the most unappealing city in North America. Upon hearing this historic news, my head was awash with questions:

•How does one go from playing in the NBA to holding such a lofty and prestigious political office?
•How exactly did the custom of honoring dignitaries with ceremonial city keys begin, and are the dignitaries required to carry these gigantic keys with them on their key rings in perpetuum?
•Why would anyone actually accept a key to Detroit, and what exactly is locked up within its eroding borders?
•What do we really know about Elmo?
•Is today’s key ceremony really an example of city government and local news performing at their best?

A Key to the City
Is Bigger Than My KIA

Sobering Reality

While reality-based programming has been part of television’s line up since the 1940’s, it wasn’t until CBS’s Survivor, debuting in 2000, that “Reality TV” became the phenomenon we know today. Network and cable channels are flooded with unscripted shows featuring non-professional actors vying for unlikely prizes, be it spouses (The Bachelorette), new careers (Project Runway), new bodies (Dance Your Ass Off), renovations (Pimp My Ride), and self-improvement (Queer Eye for the Straight Guy). Other experiments, such as Tommy Lee Goes to College, Cougar Town, Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica, My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiancé, and Scott Baio is 46…and Pregnant, defy categorization, logic and viewer IQ.

In an attempt to recapture the magic, intrigue and gamesmanship of Survivor’s first season on the remote island of Pulau Tiga, CBS launched a new series that takes reality TV to the next level. Let’s see just how low it can go.

Network Producers
Are Getting Me Drunk

Get Out of My Head

I heard a radio ad the other day where a prudent and suspicious man sends his identity out into the retail word via his credit card to make a simple, routine purchase. He sternly directs his identity, “Don’t talk to strangers, only talk to retailers.” His identity confirms the instructions, “Right, don’t talk to retailers, only talk to strangers.” We fanatically guard our personal identity — seeking to keep it under wraps — but simultaneously send it on unchaperoned field trips and post it in detail for our 4,691 “friends” to see. Our identity isn’t stolen, we ignorantly surrender it like a luxury automobile to a shady valet. We don’t even notice we’re handing the keys to the guy from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

A Woman Named Dell
Is Running My Life