G.I. Show

Hey, a G.I. film festival! "4 Days of Films Honoring the Successes and Sacrifices of the American G.I." What a great idea!

They're even bringing in a few big stars who have played soldiers in memorable films, like Gary Sinese and James Franco and Robert Duvall and...and...

Uh...okay.

Wait. No, not okay. That's stupid.

Now, according to Wikipedia, Buck Rogers was an Air Force pilot before ending up in the future. But that's such a staggeringly tenuous connection to the G.I. theme, I can only assume that whoever booked him was simply a huge sci-fi nerd looking for the chance to get a photo with Gil Gerard. Besides, all Buck Rogers ever did was get captured a lot and find excuses not to bang all the women who were lusting after him. Hardly the sort of role model today's military is looking for.

Really, the only way inviting him makes any sense whatsoever is if he brings along Erin Gray.

What the...? No, sorry, I meant Erin Gray from 1980.

That's more like it. There's also this:

Unless it's Sgt. Slaughter, I'm equally unsure as to what this has to do with a G.I. film festival. What does some dude who strips down to his shorts and gropes other dudes in their shorts have to do with the military? Isn't the whole point of don't ask, don't tell to avoid these sorts of associations?

Anyway, I hope it goes well. I think we can all agree that after everything G.I.s have done for this country, the least we can do to honor their service is give them their own film festival. At which point we'll be completely even.

Now, for no particular reason, here's another Erin Gray photo. That's one lucky space vampire.

The Washington Redskins: Screwing up drafts since 1999

"I have to say, Vinny, this idea of drafting while drunk? BRILLIANT! I'm giving you another raise."
"Thanks, Dan! Hey, pass the crack pipe over, will you?"

First Pick: Devin Thomas (WR)

I know nothing about Thomas, but Berman and company seemed pretty high on him. Plus, we need a good receiver. The Bengals don't seem to want to give us Chad Johnson, no matter how much we're willing to overpay for him, Randle El will never be more than a solid number two receiver, and sadly, I think Santana Moss's days as a starter are numbered. So it was a good idea to get some fresh legs.

Now that our receiver needs are taken care of, we can move onto defense and the offensive line, right?

Second Pick: Fred Davis (TE)

Or not.

Wow. This pick makes no sense. We already have a great tight end in Cooley, and we still have holes to fill in other position. We could have found a second tight end much later in the draft. This was a complete waste of a pick.

Well, at least it can only go up from here.

Third Pick: Malcolm Kelly (WR)

Or not.

Another receiver? Did Snyder secretly hire Matt Millen this morning? Exactly how is Campbell supposed to connect with all these receivers if he's getting sacked on every play?

You know, people can justify these picks by tossing around the phrase "West Coast Offense" all they want (and strangely, they are), but it's not going to do jack for us if the rest of the team is falling apart.

Finally, speaking of both receivers and wastes: WTF?

Brandon Lloyd's a key loss? In what way? They're obviously not counting Sean Taylor, but geez, way to make Mark Brunell and Reche Caldwell feel good about themselves.

Besides, during this off season, the Redskins have lost three janitors, five ushers, and a concession stand worker who was responsible for dispensing beer, all of whom were more key to the organization than Brandon Lloyd. So ESPN got it completely wrong.

"Dropped your shine." What the hell does that even mean?

Does anyone actually get their shoes shined anymore? It seems like a very 1940s, 1950s type of thing to do. I guess it was probably also really big in the 80s, what with the whole Wall Street boom, and dressing well being hip once again, after twenty years of tie-dye, leisure suits, and ponchos.

But now, is there really much of a need for shoe shiners? So long as they're not falling apart, does anyone really care about how your shoes look? Even in a relatively uptight place like D.C.?

Apparently so, because the local shoe shine industry seems to be going strong. Probably due in no small part to a particularly insidious marketing ploy.

About a year ago, I was coming back from lunch, just minding my own business, when this guy sitting on the sidewalk pointed to the ground and said, "Hey, man, you dropped something."

Somewhat panicked, but relieved this fine gentleman was nice enough to alert me to it, I quickly examined the ground. Nothing. I felt for my iPod. Check. Wallet. Check. ID badge. Check. Keys. Check. Coins. Check.

I gave him an inquisitive look, and he pointed at my shoes and happily said, "You dropped your shine!" It was only then that I noticed the shoe shine equipment on the ground next to him.

Half-annoyed, half-amused, I just smiled and nodded, saluting the great sales technique, and continued on my way.

By early March, I'd forgotten all about this encounter. Which, of course, means I fell for it again.

"Hey, man, you dropped something."

Somewhat panicked, but relieved this fine gentleman was nice enough to alert me to it, I quickly examined the ground. Nothing. I felt for my iPod. Check. Wallet. Check. Why did this seem so familiar? ID badge. Check. Keys. Ch...FUCK! He got me again.

"Dropped your shine, man!"

This time, I wasn't even half-amused, because I was in a bit of a hurry. Granted, it's not like the approximately three seconds it took me to pat my pockets down really made much of a difference, but this guy didn't know that. What if I were an FBI agent trying to save the city from a terrorist attack? What if I were a surgeon on my way to perform a life-saving operation? Those three seconds could have been the difference between life and death.

Plus, unlike last time, there were people (worse, tourists) around to witness my being a chump. And a couple of them clearly thought it was funny. I pointed my finger at the shoe shine guy, part salute, part venting my irritation, and stalked off.

Last week, it happened again.

"Hey, buddy, you dropped something."

This time, I just kept walking.

"Hey, you dropped something! Hey!"

I kept walking.

"Hey! You dropped..." His voice trailed off.

I'd won. It didn't matter that the score was still 2-1. It didn't even matter that, looking down at my slightly scuffed up shoes, it occurred to me that they probably could have used a shine. A victory is a victory.

Now, you might be thinking that it's sad and pathetic for me to take so much pride in outsmarting a shoe shiner. Especially since it took me three attempts. You wouldn't be entirely wrong. But hey, it's been a rough couple of weeks, so I'll take a win where I can get it.

Next, I hope to thwart the vending machine in my office that always eats my dollar bills. If I can manage that...well, it's hard to imagine an opponent I won't be able to outwit.

Ted vs. Dan

I'm not going to claim to be a big Caps fan. After all, I like hockey even less than I like baseball. But I was rooting for them last night, and even felt disappointed when they lost.

Here's what I really took away from the game, though: Ted Leonsis is the man.

I love the idea of an owner of a team also being a superfan, and in D.C., this isn't a phenomenon we get to experience very much. Dan Snyder is...well, Dan Snyder. We'll get to him in a minute. Abe Pollin has always run the Wizards more like a business than a sports team, and besides, we don't see him out in public very much these days. It's too soon to tell with the Lerners, but I suspect that they see their team as more of a toy and/or an investment than anything else.

So seeing Leonsis looking as absolutely devastated as he did after the loss made for both an extremely surprising and an extremely powerful image.

In contrast, think about how Snyder reacts after the Redskins lose a big game. That is, when he actually stays until the end instead of fleeing his luxury box in anger in the middle of the fourth quarter. He just sits there, glowering down at the field, as if he's trying to decide who to fire.

I don't think they've ever shown him after a playoff loss, but if they did, do you imagine that Snyder would have been near tears, as Leonsis was? Do you imagine he'd need to be hugged? Do you imagine he'd show any recognizable human emotion whatsoever? I doubt it. I tend to think he'd be looking for furniture to break or small animals (or an inconsequential Redskins employee or two) to kill.

Don't get me wrong, I know that Snyder has been a Redskins fan all his life, and that he's passionate about the team. But it's the type of passion a guy has for his new Porche. And I think most of whatever devotion he has for the team stems from the fact that he now owns it, and that his fortunes therefore rise and fall depending on how well it does. Whereas, I get the sense that if Leonsis were just some guy instead of the owner, he would have taken last night's loss just as hard as he did.

Finally, just ask yourself this: Have you ever seen Dan Snyder wear a Redskins jersey to a game? No, of course not. And you never will. Because he's not a fan. He's a suit.

"Hey, come on, Ted. Cheer up. At least your fans wouldn't push you in front of a bus. Can Snyder say that?"

Selling out by the dashboard light

It's not just that "Paradise By the Dashboard Light," one of Meat Loaf's best songs (not to mention, the anthem for every miserable couple that made the mistake of getting married right out of high school), was rewritten into an AT&T jingle.

Nor is it the evident notion that we're stupid enough to believe that Meat Loaf's son would want a $20 phone and a pay-as-you go cell phone plan. Your annual salary? Stick a zero at the end of it, and that's what Meat Loaf makes off of Bat Out of Hell royalties. That kid has a fucking iPhone. Maybe twenty of them.

Nor is it the weird, uncomfortable look of what I guess is supposed to be love that Meat Loaf gives his son, while placing his hand over his heart.

But the combination of the three? Worst commercial ever. Worst rock and roll sell-out, too.

Bastardly

Over the weekend, I walked out in front of a car. I was in a parking lot waiting to cross over to the sidewalk, the car was going relatively slowly, and I figured I could get across before it reached me. And I did. But either I'm slower than I'd thought or else the car was going faster than it seemed, because it actually did come somewhat close to hitting me.

Now, I'm not going to deflect blame, here. I was in the wrong. I should have waited for him to pass, and had I been behind the wheel, I would have been absolutely incensed at the idiot who'd jumped out in front of me.

As it turned out, the driver of the car was absolutely incensed at the idiot who jumped out in front of him. I know this because he rolled down his window and shouted, "Bastard!" at me as he passed.

He looked to be no older than 16 years old.

Sixteen. Can you believe that? I was honestly taken aback. What in God's name are we teaching our children, that a 16 year old kid thinks that it's somehow acceptable to call an adult a bastard? I mean, I get that he's young, but that's no excuse. He should know better.

Because when I was 16 and someone did that to me, you know what I would have called him? One of these:

Fucker

Motherfucker

Dumb fuck

Dumb fucker

Dumb motherfucker

Stupid motherfucker

Fucking idiot

Fucking moron

Retard

Fucking retard

Motherfucking retard

Dickhead

Shithead

Asshole

Fucking Asshole

Motherfucking asshole

And a few others that, as a reasonably politically correct adult, I'm now ashamed to admit were ever in my lexicon.

As you can see, ideally, you really wanted to work the word "fuck" in there somewhere. When you're 16, every other word out of your mouth should be "fuck" anyway, but it's especially important to remember to use it when you're angry. And if you were feeling really vindictive, you would tack on an insult about your target's appearance for added effect (i.e., "bald motherfucker" or "fat fucking retard").

But calling someone a bastard? No. No way. No self-respecting teenager should ever call someone a bastard for any reason*. He might as well have shouted, "Fiend!" or "Scoundrel! or "Uncouth villain!" at me.

I felt sorry for the kid. I wanted to run after his car and give him a hug and see if he wanted to grab some coffee and just, you know, talk. Clearly, he has no strong male role model in his life. Dad probably left. No older brother. No one to teach him how to properly curse in anger at total strangers from the safety of his car. And I'll bet Mom is one of those parents who doesn't let him watch any R-rated movies, hence, his deficient vocabulary. I feel bad for her, being a single mother and all, but still. You can't shelter kids forever.

You know, every now and then, I've toyed with the idea of volunteering to be a Big Brother. One of the things that's always stopped me, though, is that I've wondered what worthwhile knowledge or wisdom I could possibly pass on to a child. Now I know.

Someone fucking needs to teach our fucking children how to fucking swear. Right fucking now. Goddammit.

* Okay, there is one reason why a kid should call someone a bastard: If he's talking to someone whose parents weren't married, and he's really sensitive about it. In that case, "bastard" is not only an appropriate choice, but indeed, the optimal one.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Yeah! Screw you, suckers at ground zero! I'm in the 50% Casualty circle! When you've been reduced to a pile of ashes or a building is collapsing on you or whatever, I'll just be rocking a broken leg or a mild dose of radiation poisoning.

According to the Washington Times, it's not a question of if but when someone detonates a nuclear bomb in D.C. I wish I could just dismiss this as Moonie fear mongering, but I have to admit, I've had the exact same thought myself. Sooner or later, someone's bound to be able to sneak a nuke in, right? After all, just look at iPods. Five years ago, they were as big as a deck of cards. Now? They come in Nano size. Someone will inevitably figure out a way to do the same to a nuclear bomb. Then, like iPods, they'll probably be made available in different colors. And someone will add a touchscreen and Wi-Fi, and we'll really be in trouble.

Two things in the article I want to address.

First:

The blast from the 10-kiloton bomb — similar to the bomb dropped over Hiroshima during World War II — would kill up to one in 10 tourists visiting the Washington Monument...

Why only one in ten? Why not ten in ten? The way I see it, the more fire, radiation, and debris the tourists soak up, the better chance we have of surviving. So when the bomb does go off, don't be afraid to grab a tourist and use him or her as a shield. Ideally, there'll be an obese Midwesterner nearby, but anyone will do in a pinch.

If you're really lucky, you'll be standing next to a group of out-of-town school kids when the blast happens. If so, just grab like, five or six of them, dive to the ground, and use them as protective covering from all the glass and concrete flying around. When they've stopped struggling, you'll know it's safe to get up.

Second, why does it have to be D.C. that the terrorists target? I mean, I get why, but come on. If you're a terrorist with a nuclear bomb, why make life harder on yourself by attacking the most well-guarded city in the country? Why not go for someplace where you're less likely to encounter trouble?

I'd like to volunteer Jacksonville as our stand-in. No one would miss it. It's a completely worthless city, even by Florida standards. It lacks the flashiness of Miami, the family fun of Orlando, and the Spring Break hard bodies of Fort Lauderdale.

Plus, if we were to make a list of all the cities that have an NFL team that shouldn't, it would consist of two names: Buffalo and Jacksonville. We need Buffalo, because that's where those delicious wings come from. I think. But Jacksonville? Totally expendable.

So think about it, terrorists. As a bonus, I can't even say for certain that if Jacksonville were destroyed, that we'd even bother coming after you. Mostly, we'd be too busy trying to figure out where to put a new NFL franchise in order to balance out the AFC South.

Anyway, let's review:

1) We're all going to die eventually, but depending on where you work in the city, your eventually might be a lot sooner than mine.

2) Tourists might actually be good for something after all.

3) Fuck Jacksonville.

Thanks, Community Chest!

According to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, you should always carry a towel with you. One of the reasons for this is to wrap it around your head in case you run into the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal, which, not being very smart, assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you.

When it comes to my finances, I basically take the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal approach.

See, I rarely check the balance in my checking account. And by "rarely," I mean, like, once or twice a year. The way I figure, if I'm ignorant of how much money I have, I never have to actually worry about it.

Yes, I know how incredibly retarded that sounds. But it works. While other people I know are constantly stressing out over how much money they have, in theory, my funds are limitless, because I have no evidence to the contrary. So long as I don't go overboard, I can spend whatever I want. And for any major purchases, well, that's what credit cards are for.

This weekend, though, I sat down to do my taxes. And since I'll be cutting a check to the IRS this year, I figured I should probably pretend to be a responsible adult for a change, and make sure I have enough in my account. It's not like I owe that much, but of all the people you can bounce a check with, the IRS is probably the worst.

So I went to the ATM on Sunday, withdrew some cash, checked the receipt instead of just throwing it away as I usually do, and...whoa. I'm rich.

We're not talking Bill Gates rich or anything. It's not like I have so much in there that I can definitely say there's something weird going on. But I'll put it this way: if I had half my current balance, I'd be thrilled.

I tried to think of an explanation. Am I spending less than I thought I have been? It doesn't seem possible. Between rent, food, bills, and my swinging bachelor lifestyle (okay, fine, it's not that swinging, but even lame bachelors rack up expenses), I give my debit card quite a workout on a regular basis. In fact, even with my idiotic fiscal philosophy, I've been thinking I should probably show a little more restraint.

To illustrate, when I swiped my card at the gas station a couple of weeks ago, the transaction was declined. My reaction was not, "Oh, my God, the bank made a horrible mistake and lost all my money!" It was, "I guess I was bound to go broke eventually. Well, I had a good run." But then the next time I tried it, it went through.

So I really have no idea how I came to have this much money.

Now, of course, I could easily go back over my statements and determine whether or not the money is mine. The problem is, if I do that and determine that I did receive the money erroneously, I would feel a moral obligation to go to the bank and say something. Because unfortunately, honesty is one of my virtues.

Fortunately, so is rationalization. Thus, so long as I never actually confirm that the money isn't mine, there's really no obligation for me to do anything about it.

And let's be honest, what are the odds that a mistake was made and that someone else's money made its way into my account? A thousand to one? Ten thousand to one? Higher? So, you know, it's probably mine, and I just fucked up the math as I mentally kept track of my deposits and withdrawals. And probably is good enough.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy something incredibly frivolous. And since most of my purchases are frivolous in the first place, that should give you an idea about just how fucking frivolous I mean. We're talking Clinton Portis Fathead frivolous, here.

Smart people

Are you smarter than a high schooler? "It's Academic," NBC4's venerable Saturday morning quiz show, is spicing up the spring playoffs with some VIP cameos that will run through the end of the current season. (Reliable Source)

When I was in high school, I thought about trying out for my school's It's Academic team, but decided it would get in the way of my TV-watching and comic book-reading time. Good thing I didn't, too. We went down in flames on the show. (And when you're a kid, there's nothing more fun than watching your friends choke on It's Academic. I mean, you can't really criticize someone on, say, the football team for a bad game, since they're still obviously much, much better at football than you are. But nothing other than your own sense of decency prevents you from going up to a buddy on the It's Academic team afterwards and asking, "Jesus Christ, dude, how did you not know the capital of Venezuela was Caracas?" And of course, he has no way of proving you didn't just look it up five minutes beforehand. Which you did.)

Anyway, I don't watch the show, but I feel strangely comforted it's still on the air, and presumably always will be, as Mac McGarry has evidently made a deal with the devil to live forever. And I like the idea of local celebrities asking questions, as the show could use a little "spicing up," as the article puts it.

How would I do in answering these questions? Let's find out:

Clarence Thomas: The Supreme Court that met in 1790 had two-thirds the number of justices as there are on the current court. What was that number?

Dunno.

Margaret Spellings: As part of our Education Initiatives project, students are encouraged to learn foreign languages -- including what language spoken in Pyongyang and Seoul?

Dunno.

Cal Ripken: The first U.S. president to throw out the first ball on Opening Day was what 27th chief executive, a Republican from Ohio?

Dunno.

Lynda Carter: The female character who becomes Wonder Woman has what first name that identifies the Roman goddess of the hunt?

Ha! This one I know. Diana! See? I told you comic book-reading time was important.

(Actually, I knew the answers to all of them but the third one. I must have read a comic book that involved the Supreme Court or Korea, because that's where I tend to get all my knowledge from. That's how I know to watch out for Skrulls.)

Bad Newseum

However, that's what happens next week, when the Newseum unlocks its doors along Pennsylvania Avenue, the tourist-friendly strip linking the White House and the U.S. Capitol.

But with journalism being about ideas, not artifacts, how does the Newseum justify a $20 admission fee to inform visitors about the news — especially when most Washington museums charge nothing? (The Politico)

Unless there's a roller coaster or an opium den in that building, charging $20 to visit the Newseum is maybe the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Consider the following three points:

1) Any local who feels they absolutely have to go, will go exactly once, and never return. I went when it was in Rosslyn. Do you know how many times in the past decade I've thought to myself, "Man, it sucks the Newseum's closed, because I'd love to go again"? Not once.

2) At $20 a ticket for adults and $13 bucks a ticket for kids, why would a family of four visiting D.C. want to pay $66 to see the Newseum when they have so many free options available to them? This isn't Orlando, where a handful of amusement parks collude with one another to keep ticket prices artificially high. Unless the Newseum has secretly cut a deal with the Smithsonian, where they'll also start charging $20 a ticket, I don't see how this works.

3) By comparison, the other high profile D.C. museum that charges admission, the International Spy Museum, only charges $18 a head. So essentially, the Newseum is proposing that journalism is more interesting than spies. Is anyone buying that? (If you find yourself disagreeing, just ask yourself this: Who would win in a fight, Bob Woodward or James Bond? Even if you were to spot Woodward Carl Bernstein and a couple of baseball bats? Exactly. Thank you.)

So if you're contemplating going, hold off for a few months. By mid-summer at the very latest, when the Newseum notices that tourists are doing everything but going to the Newseum, the admission fee will be cut in half. Because the alternative is that the Newseum keeps bleeding money, until eventually, they have to move out and some lucky country gets a new embassy.

Spectacular views! No down payment! And ass! Lots of ass!

I understand that the housing market in the D.C. area is in the toilet right now, and that developers are finding themselves stuck with unsold condos they thought they'd be unloading for a cool half-million each right about now. And as such, they're going to flood potential buyers like myself with ads trying to make the idea of buying a home as appealing as possible.

I also understand that sex and advertising have always been linked together, and always will be.

Still, this comes off as somewhat pandering:

Now, I know...I know...that a woman like that isn't going to be my neighbor. (Or, if I were female or gay, a guy like that.) I'd like to think that almost anyone who's capable of buying a condo would realize this. So why even put it out there?

It's not like this is an ad for Axe Body Spray, where a large percentage of the targeted demographic probably is stupid enough to believe that if they coat themselves with the stuff, hot chicks will try and rape them, just like in the commercials. We're talking about upscale condos, here. Give potential buyers a little credit, huh?

I guess it's conceivable, however unlikely, that you might have a couple who looks like that living next to you. But I don't think that's exactly an effective selling point. I mean, who would want to live next door to two people that ridiculously attractive?

"Hi, Scotus."

"Hey, Ken. Hey, Barbie. What's going on?"

"Great news! We both finally got our body fat percentages under 1%. Cool, huh? Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you something. Barbie's twin sister Skipper is coming into town, and we were looking for someone to set her up with."

"Oh, uh, yeah? Really?"

"Yeah. So...do you know anyone? Her type is men who look like Brad Pitt and have lots of money. Anyway, if you'll excuse us, we're going to go have sex now. Later."

In any case, developers should either give the deceptive advertising a rest, or actually include someone who looks like the models in the ads with the home, the same way you would a refrigerator or washer and dryer.

I'm sure there are plenty of beautiful people in foreign countries who would be willing to come standard in condos in exchange for American visas. Sort of like mail order brides, only slightly less sketchy. In fact, this would probably spark a buying frenzy that would turn the entire recession around, and lead to economic prosperity not seen since the tech boom of the late 90s.

Hey, look at that. I just fixed the economy. Tomorrow, maybe I'll tackle that Iraq thing.

Man and Superman

There's nothing as annoying as someone who jumps onto a pop culture bandwagon at a really late date. You know, the guy who has just discovered something that everyone else has already found and embraced, and acts like he's somehow letting you in on a secret by recommending it to you.

Thus, I know this post is inherently lame and useless to anyone who reads comics, but...

Holy fucking shit. If God wrote Superman, it wouldn't be this good.

With All Star Superman, Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely may have single-handedly reinvigorated my interest in comics, which has flagged considerably as of late. If there was a way to somehow put a copy of this book in the hands of every man, woman, and child in the country, profits for the comic book industry would skyrocket. (Well, at least until everyone discovered that most comics aren't nearly as good as this, and moved on again.)

I don't care if you love comics, hate comics, love Superman, hate Superman, or whatever. Beg, borrow, or buy a copy of this. Hell, I give you carte blanche to break into my apartment and steal mine. It's that good.

Hobble-do-gee

I caught some of the Greaseman's triumphant return to DC101 on Saturday morning. Well, at least as triumphant as a Saturday morning shift can be, anyway. And while I can't say I'm really a fan of his, it's hard to deny that the man has talent. It might be talent in the same sense that a plate spinner has talent, where you're impressed, but at the same time, don't really care. But it still takes talent to do the kind of show he does, and I'm glad it has an outlet again.

These days, when the D.C. radio scene is so bleak, it's easy to forget just how big the Greaseman was in his glory days. I think I moved here right about the time his popularity on DC101 was at its peak, and even though I didn't ever hear his show until he started doing evenings on WJFK in the mid-90s, you couldn't miss the fact that the guy was huge. I remember going to a Bullets game at the Cap Center when I was a kid, and he was courtside before the game, with some hot piece of ass on his arm. (I may have only been 9 or 10, but I still knew a hot piece of ass when I saw it.) And he, not any of the players, was the center of attention.

This, of course, was back in the good old days, when a local disc jockey really could be a Major Fucking Star, as opposed to now, where at best, he might rank as a minor celebrity.

Anyway, his show isn't for everyone, and I'm actually not sure it's even for me, but I'll probably listen again this weekend.

A few more radio thoughts, while I'm on the subject:

- I'm really not digging Elliot as much as I used to. The show used to seem a lot less structured, and you'd never know when Flounder would get beat up on by the listeners or Kyle would end up with a dildo in his mouth or something. Now, Flounder and Kyle are barely on, and more often than not, the main topic of the day is of little interest to me. I'd change the station, but to what? The Junkies? Kane? Fucking Jack Diamond? How is that guy still on the air? I think my iPod is going to get a lot more use.

- It's the final week of The Don & Mike Show. In what I can only assume is a stab at irony regarding how much time they take off every year (seriously, if they worked more than 35 weeks in 2007, I'd be shocked), they're playing Best Of today through Thursday, with Friday being live. WJFK is promoting the first four days as a look back at the greatest moments from the history of the show, but considering that Don and Mike have said that most of their old tapes have been destroyed over the years, I sort of question that. I predict that a disproportionate number of these "greatest moments" will be from the last five years or so.

- Speaking of WJFK, I'm amazed by how much I've been enjoying Big O & Dukes. At first, I pretty much dismissed them as a poor man's version of The Hideout, but they're really, really good. Last week, DCRTV reported a rumor (probably false) that JFK was considering moving The Mike O'Meara Show to mid-days and Big O & Dukes to afternoon. I have no idea if this would be a good idea or not, but it's pretty clear that they, not O'Meara or The Junkies, are the future of the station.

Regardless, all JFK needs to do now is dump Jim Rome and bring The Hideout back to D.C., and it'll be 100% locally broadcast talent. How many talk radio stations can make that claim these days?

Charge this, Prince George's

The 12-year-old boy had finished his homework and was playing a video game when he heard his mother cry out. Rushing to her aid, he found her on the kitchen floor, straddled by a fellow resident of their Prince George's County boarding house, the man's hands wrapped tightly around her neck, the boy said yesterday.

...

The boy said he grabbed a knife and swung, slashing 64-year-old Salomon Noubissie across the neck and opening an artery. Noubissie was fatally wounded.

...

Law enforcement officials were reviewing evidence yesterday and had not decided whether to file charges. Their preliminary account of the incident broadly matches that of the boy and his mother. (Washington Post)

Fucking unbelievable. "Had not decided to file charges"? Right now, the only debates should be A) How big of a medal to give the kid, and B) Which local philanthropist will get the ball rolling to send him to Disney World or set up a college fund or something. (Looking at you, Dan Snyder.) Had this happened in Texas, they'd be throwing him a parade right now, and quite likely electing him mayor.

There's no way this goes to trial. If the prosecutors even offer a plea deal of just giving the kid a wet willie as punishment, the family's lawyers should reject it. Not only would it make Prince George's the laughing stock of the country, but it would be a complete waste of time and money, as no jury is going to convict a 12 year-old boy of saving his mother's life.

Just imagine the voir dire at trial:

Prosecutor: "Do you think you could be impartial in deciding whether or not a 12 year-old boy should be convicted for killing a man who was strangling his mother?"

Prospective Juror: "What are you, fucking retarded?"

Prosecutor: "..."

Prosecutor: "So, in general, would you say you're against kids killing adults?"

Prospective Juror: "In general, yes."

Prosecutor: "Now, would it make any difference to you if, say, I dunno, at the time, the kid was trying to protect his mother from being murdered?"

Prospective Juror: "Oh. Well, yeah, of course, that would make a difference."

Prosecutor: "Big difference or small difference?"

Prospective Juror: "Huge difference."

Prosecutor: "Shit."

Prosecutor: "Suppose a 12 year-old boy went on a murderous rampage across town, stabbing people indiscriminately, and racking up a body count of well over a hundred people, and there was clear, indisputable evidence against him. Do you think you could bring back a guilty verdict, knowing you'd be sending that 12 year-old boy to jail?"

Prospective Juror: "Absolutely I could."

Prosecutor: "Great. Now, what if there actually was no murderous rampage, and instead of a hundred people he killed, it was just one, and that guy was sort of asking for it by trying strangle the kid's mother to death? Could you still vote to convict?"

Prospective Juror: "Uh...well, that's a totally different scenario than the one you just mentioned. So...no."

Prosecutor: "Okay, fuck this, Your Honor, the state wishes to drop all charges."

The amazing thing is, there doesn't seem to be any doubt by the cops that the kid and his mother are telling the truth. There's no indication that this is some sort of elaborate set-up, where an innocent guy got murdered and the mother and son are covering it up. And yet, charges are still being contemplated?

I don't even care if there were a hundred other ways the kid could have resolved the situation without slashing the guy's throat. I think if someone starts strangling a woman, he's effectively given up his right to live.

Fucking Maryland. Hillary Duff was so right about that place. Why didn't we listen to her?

Metro movie moronity

Directors love the distinctive look of Washington's subway -- its vaulted ceilings, long escalators and shiny trains with the "M" logo. But filmmakers hate Metro's rules: No eating, drinking or running. No jumping over fare gates. No shooting bad guys on the tracks. No exceptions. (Washington Post)

You know, for an outfit that's constantly whining about needing money, Metro sure seems determined to make life difficult for filmmakers who want to give it to them.

Who cares if someone is shown jumping over the fare gates? Is Metro afraid that if people see Nicole Kidman doing it, they'll think it's legal? Does Metro think that if people see someone jump on the tracks, they'll go, "That looks like fun! Why wait for the train when I can just run to the next station?"

Can you imagine if the entire city adopted this idiotic approach?

"So, Mr. Scorsese, you want to film here in D.C., huh? Okay, what's your movie about?"

"Well, it's a political thriller. At the start of the film, the president is giving a speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial when he's almost assassinated by a Russian spy. Then the FBI--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there, Hollywood. Sorry, you can't film that here."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Well, we have this policy where if something isn't allowed in D.C., it can't be shot for a film. And last time I checked, trying to kill the president wasn't allowed in D.C. Maybe instead of the Lincoln Memorial, you could shoot that scene in Baltimore? Or what if instead of attacking the president, the assassin just loudly criticized him? I think that's still legal."

"But...but...that makes no sense."

"Maybe, but that's the way it is. We just can't take the risk that someone might see your film and mistakenly think they're watching some sort of instructional video. Look, remember Independence Day? They were going to shoot here, until we read the script and discovered that the White House gets blown up by aliens. Never mind terrorists, what would happen if a passing UFO saw that scene and started getting funny ideas? Maybe New York's fine with taking that sort of risk, but not us."

I could probably write pages and pages on this, but frankly, it just makes my head hurt. Especially when I stop and think that in theory, someone could write the greatest script ever, but if there was a pivotal scene that called for someone to eat a candy bar on the Metro, it couldn't be shot here.

One can only wonder what would happen if Metro put half the effort into making sure the trains ran on time, that they do in thwarting Hollywood's attempts at fiction.

Daniel Plainview had it right

"I have a competition in me. I want no one else to succeed. I hate most people." - Daniel Plainview, There Will Be Blood

For some reason, I found myself watching Deal or No Deal last night. I don't know why. I can't stand the show. It's the stupidest, laziest excuse for a game show in the history of television. Every other game show requires the contestant to possess a modicum of talent, whether it's being able to answer trivia questions, figure out puzzles, or use hand-eye coordination to avoid the Whammy.

On Deal or No Deal, the contestant just picks briefcases. BFD.

Okay, granted, that's not really the point of the show. The point of the show is the contestant essentially playing against himself by calculating the odds, taking risks, and overcoming his greed. Still. In the end, it's picking briefcases.

Anyway, I'm watching the show, and there's this guy on. He seems decent enough. He has a nice family. He works with kids. He wears his dead grandmother's ring in memory of her. Good people.

Yet for some reason, I wanted him to go down, and go down hard. Every time one of those fucking briefcases opened, I found myself hoping that it would have the million dollars in it, knocking his winnings down to nothing. Why? No idea.

I once heard a psychologist say that some people root for the failure of others, not out of malice, but because they believe there's only so much success in the world to go around, and for every bit someone else has, there's that much less left over. For some reason, that actually makes sense to me.

Whether we want to admit it or not, I think we all have a bit of Daniel Plainview in us. Mine just happens to manifest itself while watching crap game shows.

Oh, in case you're wondering, much to my delight, the guy did blow it. First he picked the case with the million in it, causing his offer to plummet. Fortunately for him, he was able to get it back up to about where it was, before deciding to walk away with about $200,000.

Unfortunately for him, when Howie Mandel did the thing where he makes the contestant say which case he would have picked next had he not quit, it turned out that if he'd stayed in one more round, he would have left with $450,000. The look on the guy's face was priceless. Had he stayed in one more round after that, he would have won $750,000.

It warmed my heart. Then I had a milkshake.