Tonight on Downton Abbey

Downton Abbey, universal gift to culture, comes on Sunday nights these days so you might miss it. Let me save you the trouble, by summarizing every episode ever made.

Oh, and SPOILER ALERT!!

Robert is appalled at some glacially slow liberalization in society. Like women voting. Or peasants speaking to their masters.

Lady Grantham, getting her tan
in the English rain

Cora is super bland and indistinguishable from the furniture. 

Mary jumps from bed to bed and is a total bitch when not gazing at her mirror and asking "who's the fairest of them all."

Gillingham and Blake compete to woo Mary, by all appearances, by trying to outpolite one another. Mary is not impressed. Then she is. For a bit. Then she's not. Uh, wait, then she is. Then she's not.

Edith is sullen and depressed over yet another personal disaster (about which Mary twists the knife). 

 

Sybil (before dying, obvs) vowed to "show them" by doing the opposite of what was "expected of her", like, marrying the lamest IRA terrorist of all time.

Tom, said lamest IRA terrorist of all time, feels out of place, probs because he's a socialist "compelled" to live with the richey rich. Sounds like a straight to video Adam Sandler movie.

How dare you insinuate I am not virtuous!
And can you come by my room later?

Rose, the Oliver from Brady Bunch of the show, works on her cute looks and Marie Antoinettes her way through each episode finding socially inappropriate suitors (Jews! Blacks! Men who don't belong to a suitable London club!)

Isobel Crawley just knows the Idiot of the Episode can succeed if given a fighting chance and oh by the way knows you're doing everything wrong and shows you the proper way.

The Dowager Countess drops sick burns on foolz, drops the mike, and exits the stage. When not trying to run everyone's lives (more skillfully than Isobel).

Mr. Carson grumbles about the changing times in which non-aristocrats can go to school. Or pick their own job. Though he expresses a firm opposition to slavery, which, you know, is pretty modern of him.

Mrs. Hughes keeps everyone's secrets, like why we've never heard about her husband even though she's a "Mrs."

There's nothing simpler than avoiding one's enemies. Avoiding one's friends, that's the real test

Daisy, Bates, and Anna continue their epic struggle to win the Most Boring Character of the 1920s award. Previous winners include Alfred, Ivy, and Jimmy (title jointly held).

Molesley, the Lady Edith of the downstairs bunch, bumbles along through the day, always topping last week's life failure with the next.

May I see you to bed, M'Lord?

Thomas vows to extract vengeance on everyone for some imagined slight, but only concocts the most feeble plots ever. And thinks up ways not to be gay.

Mrs. O'Brien works to solidify her working trash Lady Macbeth image.

Mrs. Patmore screams at Daisy basically for being Daisy.

There you go. Save the space on your DVR.

My Dream Meal

Paris When It Sizzles

Richard: To begin, we'll have paper-thin
slices of prosciutto ham
wrapped carefully around well-ripened
sections of Persian melon.

 To follow, a touch of Dover sole sautéed lightly
in champagne and butter. With that, a bottle of...

 

Gabrielle: Pouilly-Fuissé?

 

Richard: The '59 will do. And after that......we'll have a Chateaubriand for two. Erm, make that for four. Charred and brown. Nay, black on the outside
and gloriously rare on the inside!

With the beef, we'll have white asparagus and a bottle of
Château Lafite Rothschild '47.

 And for dessert, an enormous order
of fraises des bois...

 

Gabrielle: Served, of course,
with globs of heavy cream so thick you can put it on with
a shovel, s'il vous plaît. Mwah!

 

--The menu scene from Paris When It Sizzles. 

Now, that's a meal! Especially when had with William Holden and Audrey Hepburn. Serendipitous indeed.

As usual, the Captain thinks nothing but happy thoughts and only sees sunny skies. So, last week as I thought about my New Year's Eve meal, I began to think about the "Last Meal'  in prison. Because, you know, that's how I think. Did you know you can't just order anything you want for your last meal before your execution. Yeah, me and my brother Steve took an official tour of the Huntsville prisons in the late 80s, including the Death Row. Only visiting, of course! They said they do give condemned prisoners the opportunity to have a last meal just before their execution. And they can have whatever they want, provided, they have it in the prison cafeteria. So you can't stave off execution by ordering some elaborate, exotic meal that would take them three weeks to assemble and prepare. You know, like ordering some kind of caviar taken from salmon in one particular stream in Kazakhstan, watercress grown on the slopes of active Japanese volcanoes, killer whale meat (see what I did there, "killer whale," 'cause its a killer's last meal? Ah...I slay me [there it is again!]).

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah. What's your dream meal?

I've gone to so many great restaurants over the past years it set me thinking, what would be the perfect meal? What would you want to eat for the ultimate dining experience? Think of it as your last meal, or the most special meal you'll ever have. What would you want to eat?

That really raises several definitional questions, all going to what makes up a great meal. Do you only worry about the food itself, or do the context and atmosphere matter? Must the ideal meal occur in the ideal location? Served by anyone in particular? Does the wine or drink count? And are we talking about an entire meal, or just the best dish in each particular phase of a meal, such that each course has to complement the overall meal?

Or would chicken and waffles be great if served by Victoria Secret models at Le Fancee Pantalones?

First question is "fine" or "fun"? Do you want some elegant, elaborate meal, with rare servings? Or do you just want the best "normal food" you can find? Like the best pizza or BBQ or chicken fried steak you can find? Or would you assemble a bunch of exotic foods? Pheasant. Foraged truffles. Wagyu beef.

 

You also must decide whether any particular setting must exist to facilitate the "perfect meal." Can you have a great meal in a dump? Would Kobe beef and Lafite Rothschild be all that great served in a truck stop outside Ardmore, Oklahoma? With plastic knives and forks? Or must you dine in an elegant setting? If the latter, not to take this too far, but what kind of décor would suffice? Remember in Sideways, as Paul Giammatti left his friend's wedding when he became upset about seeing his ex-wife pregnant with her first child? He goes to some disgusting burger joint with the 1961 Chateau Cheval Blanc that Virginia Madsen referenced as she tried to seduce him (unsuccessfully, proving his character a complete basket case), and proceeds to drink it (from a Styrofoam cup no less, savage) while eating a burger. Nothing else needed but the wine. Thus proving the line from the film, "the day you can open a '61 Cheval Blanc--that's a special occasion."

BTW, Virginia Madsen....#bigfan.

You must consider the company. Or as Jane Austen put it, "Company, company, where would we be without company?" Can you enjoy the "perfect meal" alone? Or with your favorite person or significant other? Or perhaps at a great feast with intriguing people who provide stimulating conversation? In other words, does it have to turn into My Dinner With Andre or every episode of Downton Abbey before you can call it the perfect meal?

And what about the costumes? Assuming all you friend-havers would want to surround yourselves with your equals for your own perfect meal, what would you wear? Something no doubt suitable to the setting. Or, I'm not sure. Maybe its just because I live in Austin, but I see people dragging in to the most elegant restaurants and other settings these days wearing rags not too much more sophisticated than ratty jeans and an old Molly Hatchet t-shirt. So if you insist on dressing like, you know, adults, you probably need to tell people that. Even then they'd probably blow you off.

Me? Everyone knows I'm a #baller. So yeah, gotta have the finest food, elegant surroundings, professional servers, and interesting and witty conversation.

Some other necessities:

I like the French Laundry/Per Se approach of an insanely high number of courses. I think at French Laundry we had a 10 course set meal, each course combined just two or three flavors to perfection, and each course led perfectly to the next. So, to answer an earlier question, yes the whole perfect meal should be greater than the sum of the parts. Or something.

Ambiance matters. Whether its the truck stop or Le Fancee Pantalones, order should prevail. No screaming kids running all over the place. No screaming adults running around either. Cleanliness. No tattered tablecloths, napkins, dirty silverware, lipstick on glasses, or chipped china. Appropriate dress standards please. Taste, charm, warmth, suitable light (not glaring, yet not pitch black). And please keep the noise down. I don't want to eat in an LAX maintenance hangar. All these things enhance the meal. Whether its high end or low budget.

So, stop putting it off. What would you have for dinner?

It would be on an outdoor terrace at or near the Hill Country (though not during cedar season, obvs). Sometime in late April or May. Warmish but not yet sticky. Semi-well lit, not candlelight or floodlights.

A few close friends, or otherwise interesting people, would attend. Three to four, tops. Conversation would rule the night. And people had best step it up and bring their conversation A game. No "would you eat someone to survive if you were in a plane crash in the Andes" talk. That's so played.

Music, but not loud. Classic jazz. Let's start with Coltrane.

Exceptionally chilled champagne served at the outset. Preferably a rose variety. How about the Veuve Clicquot Rose?

Four courses (oh, and this in fantasy land where gluten doesn't rip up my stomach):

1. Spinach, goat cheese, Texas pecan, blood orange, and strawberry salad.

2. Cajun gumbo, with a deep smoky tasting roux, with oysters, crawfish, and crab, all fresh out of Louisiana waters, paired with brown rice.

3. Italian veal osso buco with Kimberly's meatballs on the side. I guess we need some vegetables, about which I'm rather selective (begone with you, Brussels sprouts!). Normally you'd go with a risotto, but we just had brown rice with the gumbo. How about some polenta and haricot verts?

4. Commander's Palace Creole Bread Pudding Souffle (with whiskey sauce).

Followed by a really good port, which someone would have to pick out for me due to my not knowing spirits, as Gerald O'Hara would put it.

So there you go. The ultimate Chris Reeder dinner. Which will never happen until I start making hella jack. So for now it will remain iced tea and barbecue. But you can always dream...yuuuuuuummmmm....

 

Things I Believe For Absolutely No Reason

"I am not one of those who in expressing opinions confine themselves to facts."

Mark Twain, What Is Man?

Everyone knows the difference between opinion and fact, right? Oh, I'm a lawyer, I know this one!! You can prove a fact, but not an opinion.

Most arguments and other fights we endure (or provoke) concern opinions, not facts. Raising the minimum wage would help/hurt the economy. We should/shouldn't send troops to fight ISIS. Jerrod Heard should start at quarterback. And, most of what we regard as facts, in actuality, they're just opinions that you really really really believe.

Or as George Costanza put it, "its not a lie if you believe it."

A sort of Emperor's New Clothes dynamic works here too. If enough people believe something, it takes on the appearance of fact. So, those contrarians among us appear like cranks, or "know nothings," in failing to believe. Because, you know, its not a question of "belief," once something has been proven scientifically (notwithstanding the existence of hundreds of scientist e-mails suggesting to the contrary). It would be nice by the way if "absolute scientific truth" didn't seem to change every few years. Like whether eggs are good for you. Can we please get that one straight at least?

Before this turns into a logic textbook, let's reel it in and talk about today's post-Christmas missive. Why do we believe what we believe? Because you saw it happen? Because someone else you respect believes it? Because it "seems" right? Because it suits your other views?

You like to think people rely on some objective basis in forming their beliefs. They saw footprints in the snow, so they believe someone walked in the yard. They saw every movie released one year and concluded that one was the best movie. [Fill in the blank] is the best candidate because he has the best position on [fill in the blank]. They didn't just decide something on a whim and started believing it with no factual basis at all. Like the USA Today Coaches' Poll (where we pretend the coaches actually vote, and not someone in the SID office, or that they watch the teams in question and don't just vote for their buddies or to help their own schools).

Yeah, you do on and keep thinking that. The fact is, most of us walk around spouting other people's opinions, having no idea why we think what we dearly believe to be true (see "talk radio listeners"). We hear something that sounds about right, and without much of any examination, we accept it as fact. Or more frequently, adopt that as our opinion. And we never seem to acknowledge it. We just seem to absorb the opinions around us and treat them as established. Those who don't believe, again, seem like cranks.

I have to acknowledge that I believe a number of things for which I absolutely lack any kind of factual basis or proof. I can't even concoct a good argument to support them. I just...believe. Which is good enough for me. But I wouldn't push my beliefs off on you.

Oh yes I would. Here's the things I believe, with absolutely no proof whatsoever. I just believe them to be true. You should too because they're absolutely right.

There are no coincidences. I strongly believe this one. Nothing just happens. Or put another way, everything happens for a reason. You might ignore the reason, or not see the design or connection in what's going on, but it always exists. Believe it!

Karma is real. Actually I could cite lots of examples of where people got what was coming to them, but can't really say their past transgressions caused their demise (or damages). I just know its true. Or as it says in Galatians, you reap what you sow.

You catch more flies with honey. People respond more to carrots than sticks.

The 30 second rule is a real thing. Bacteria are too lazy to move that fast.

The Kennedys had Marilyn Monroe killed. I know the Kennedys are saints and all, but they mostly couldn't keep it in their pants. Kennedy men affairs are of course legendary, and that included Marilyn Monroe. Who, sadly, seems to have been passed around like a joint at a Phish concert. I don't literally think the Kennedys ordered her death. I think it was one of those Michael Corleone things, where he tells Al Neri he doesn't want anything to happen to Fredo while his mother is still alive, and then he shoots Neri that look at his mother's funeral. Yeah, that's how I think it happened.

Drugs are bad. The illegal ones, that is. Though, about a gazillion ruined addicts' lives, and those of people close to them, do support that belief.

Aliens are a real thing. And not the ones coming in from Mexico. The ones coming from another planet. Real. So, God created this entire universe with all the stars and galaxies and black holes that covers seemingly infinite space. But put life on only one miserable rotten speck of a planet circling an average, non-descript star? Ok. That makes complete sense. Or if you're not into the whole religion/creation thing, the conditions that led to life developing on earth happened only once, despite the enormous vastness of space, and the eons of time. That also makes no sense. At all. Now, I guess that amounts to a reason why I believe in aliens. But kind of a flimsy one. Its more of a post-hoc rationalization. I can't point to any facts to back it up.

If you make a wish or say a prayer while going under a train crossing, and a train is on it (you're going under a train in other words), your wish will come true. Mom told us that one. That makes it so.

Jenny McCarthy is awesome. I know. I feel kind of ashamed. But I can't help it. She just...is. Ok, yeah, she's possibly responsible for a bunch of unnecessary disease exposures and medical conditions. So maybe the whole "don't immunize your kids" thing was a bit of an overreach. And, uh, "irresponsible." In the parlance of our times. But she eventually took it back. Trying to molest that little forest sprite Bieber at some award show was pretty nice too. So she's still wonderful!

God created the earth and gave humans dominion over it. I know...crazy, right? That's kind of true of any religious belief though. I suppose we all use different proof standards. Events that one person may see as just a coincidence or happenstance, someone else may discern the presence of God. Most of the world's religions cite eyewitness accounts of divine events to support their belief, but generally these involve events occurring hundreds or thousands of years ago, witnessed by people who lived to be about 25 if they were lucky and who thought the earth was flat. And, honestly, if God existed and wanted us to be happy, would he really have sent us all these tribulations? Like war, or pestilence, or Kathy Griffin? So its just that leap of faith, based on what you see and experience. I can't prove I'm right, but no one can prove I'm wrong.

The United States is by FAR, the greatest country on earth. By nearly any measure. #Merica.
 

Dazed and Confused was a documentary. Yeah, at least the Matthew McConaughey parts. I'm convinced Linklater didn't script this part. Instead, he just dressed Matt in period clothes and then followed him around with a camera as he lived his normal life. As my friend Cole pointed out, that makes the whole "high school girls" bit seem even more disturbing.

When you wear your team's gear it helps them play better. Yelling at the TV, however, does not. 

That's about it for now. Meanwhile, you people get to work figuring out why you believe what you believe.

 

Let's Get Real



Yes! We're all individuals!!!

Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.

--Oscar Wilde

Normally I try not to expose my existential crises to the world. After all, look where that got Woody Allen. Supporting Frank Sinatra's love child and defending against child molestation allegations. But I'll run that risk tonight to talk about something that increasingly weighs on my mind. I'm having a little trouble clearly articulating this feeling. About the best way I can put it is....

When did everything get so fake?

I can't describe the problem much better than to say...we're suffering from a lack of reality.

Its the difference between Olive Garden and a family-owned trattoria. CVS vs. Nau's Enfield Drug. Its anything where you can literally see the business plan, the pitch meeting, the focus group testing, market research, branding strategy and the like behind it. Its the modern slicked-back, made up, scripted, politician, vs. Harry Truman. Its offend no one, sell shoes to everyone Michael Jordan vs. go in the stands and wallop some idiot fan, crazy Ron Ron Artest.

The result: blandness. Stultifying, pervasive, coma-inspiring blandness. Everywhere you go, things are all the same. Everyone you meet is the same. Everyone does the same things. Reads the same books. Watches the same shows. Goes to the same places. Let someone step out in front and do things differently, and they face an uphill battle in many ways. Its like the lyric from Gigi, "the world is round, but everything in it is flat."

Its everything. Our personalities. Our interests. Our appearance. Get out of line and you're held to ridicule or worse.

Why? Its because we live in a judging society. For all that Americans supposedly are "live and let live," we're anything but that. Every day, hundreds of TV shows, web sites, magazines, and the like revel in exposing celebrities' private lives and thoughts. To ridiculing anyone who's a little different (and, a lot different too...). We even tune in to see horrible "real people," on shows like Judge Judy or the late great Jerry Springer Show, so we can revel in how awful these people are. We love judging all these people. And in the celebrity realm, anyone whose behavior gets slightly out of line has to go on some apology tour before they can regain their public standing. 

Many times the scorn is well deserved (like...Mel Gibson or Chris Brown or Bieber) but often it stems from holding some unpopular belief, or belonging to some disfavored organization, or supporting the wrong political party. Things that are totally legal, but socially disfavored. And often, beliefs that many people also hold but are afraid to express. "Who knew that guy was a REPUBLICAN??!?" Or gay, or Mormon, or into scotchy, scotch, scotch. Or in the commercial world, a company makes the same tired old product because they know that "works." They don't know that the new product will sell. So every store winds up looking like every other store. Every movie made is a sequel, or a permutation of some other successful movie. And so forth.

If you're someone who doesn't necessarily roll with the popular thing, you do the only thing you can. You hide. You conceal anything the least bit offensive or troubling or non-conformist. Its self-preservation. If you can't swim, you stay out of the water. If everyone around you is a raging atheist, you don't tell them you're a believer. And so forth. You go along to get along.

The result: everyone looks the same, sounds the same, acts the same. Whatever may happen to gain the greatest popular approval winds up as the "norm." Anything deviating from that must justify its existence.

This touches everything. Pro athletes must conform to behavior expectations. I'm not talking about asking them to follow the same laws as everyone else. I'm talking about how they can't have opinions on controversial subjects, or have lots of tattoos, or support certain candidates, without damaging their "brand." Movies can't show people smoking, even though in reality, people smoke. TV networks and sponsors comb every show for any remotely politically incorrect phrase or story. School boards and state education agencies sanitize the teaching of history and literature. Huckleberry Finn? Can't read it (contains bad words). And politicians? Every word uttered matches some focus group tested formula. Every appearance is heavily scripted. When did it become required that every speech had to include a racially and gender balanced bunch of "ordinary citizen" extras standing behind the candidate or official, all appearing to "stand behind" the message?

The problem is that we've all become this way. WE have self-censored ourselves. We erect shields and barriers and defenses to prevent ourselves from revealing our innermost, earnestly held thoughts. We hide all the messiness and ickiness about ourselves to project a perfect image, or at least one that conforms with what we think people "expect" of us. We act to further our own personal "brand." We fear that moment where we say anything the slightest bit offensive, lest we lose our jobs or customers or adoring fans. We don't offer opinions on anything even remotely controversial until we gauge the room, or our audience, for fear of offense. We fear job interviews or sales calls not so much because the audience will find our "product" wanting, but because we may let our shield slip ever so slightly and reveal some controversial thought.

So anyone who doesn't live that way risks coming off in one of two ways. Think about your crazy uncle. Maybe he spouts a bunch of borderline racist epithets. Maybe he thinks the Government spies on us every moment. Maybe he thinks bathtubs are dangerous to our health. He might never wear the color green. He thinks the CIA invented ebola. He calls all women "honey." Your crazy uncle comes off as a totally weird guy, because he holds opinions most of us do not hold, or in many cases, that were once considered mainstream but no longer. And doesn't bother to hide it. Or even realize that some people would disagree with him. Or doesn't care. He has no "filter."

If your crazy uncle has no power in the world, if he's the manager of a car wash, let's say, people view him as just an oddball. Or a freak. No one that causes any concern, but no one you'd want to include in your own friend circle, right? But maybe if he has some element of charm or other "redeeming" qualities, you can have great affection for your crazy uncle. Maybe he's a hit at parties. Maybe people consider his bluntness as refreshing.

But when your crazy uncle is the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, then, problem! All the sudden, you care about the fact that the Chairman of the Fed thinks that aliens monitor our phone calls. Or that women reporters shouldn't cover football games. Or that no man should have a beard. Then its a real problem.

Its like Crazy Joe Biden is just fine, and kind of entertaining. He can get up and spout all kinds of insane stuff, much of which he probably plagiarized, and no one really cares because its not like Joe Biden matters. None of that affects his ability to break ties in the Senate or attend state funerals so that the President can play golf.

But if its someone who does have power, or control over something important, then they must "get right" or be hounded from our midst. Donald Sterling sounds like a horrible person, for example, but one who broke no laws and was basically a doddering old fool with a too trusting attitude towards his mistress. But because he expressed pretty offensive views, in private, in confidence, which during the span of his lifetime were not that far out of the mainstream (i.e. because society changed and he didn't), he was forced to sell his business. Is that right? How many closet racists work alongside you? How many other freaky things do your co-workers get into in their private time that have absolutely nothing to do with their work or their relationships with co-workers? Should they all lose their jobs?

Admittedly, some of this is just how a society works. If we're all too different, no one has anything in common and its hard to get anyone going in the same direction. Judgments that popular opinion reflects help reinforce social norms. When racism was widely accepted, discrimination could flourish even in the face of laws that prohibited it. But once opinion turned against it (well, mostly against it), then discrimination began to give way. Is it good if people run around spouting racism without some public approbation? Probably not. Think of smoking. Once the popular opinion shifted against smoking, and non-smokers felt empowered to give dirty looks to and criticize smokers to their face, politicians changed course and it became more difficult to engage in unfettered smoking. These innumerable "judgments" against those who deviate from these norms plays an important role in keeping a society somewhat coherent. All this "protect the minority" stuff only gets you so far; if everyone truly goes their own way then its anarchy. A society's very existence depends on the adoption and reinforcement of certain core values. So a society's members have to act within those parameters, even in the United States, or you get the Balkans. And all that implies.

Nonetheless, I think people are yearning for something real. TV invented an entire new genre to tap into that sentiment: "reality TV." These shows purport to depict "real life," when of course as we all now accept, they do anything but that. Because "real life" is messy and often unpleasant. Real life doesn't always turn out happily. You can only count on "happily ever after" in stories, not in real life. Real life has rough edges, disappointments, and disasters. But real life can also bring unrivaled joy, unparalleled beauty, and staggering thoughts. Something you'd never see on the Kardashians.

Anyway, I could be all wrong about this. Its just what I think. Don't hate me!

NEXT-in keeping with this theme, Crazy Things I Believe for No Reason

Moratorium (Part Two): I'm SO Over These People

Oprah

Ok, as mentioned previously, this installment lists some people who's time should have come and gone by now. So...maybe you could find something else to do with your time now? MmmKay thanks.

Oprah: I saw the Oprah show exactly once. She had Bill Murray, Billy Crystal, and Robin Williams as her guests, all at their creative peak (sometime in the late 1980s). They were hilarious, and she had the good sense largely to shut up and let them carry the show. So I really never "got" the cultlike following, particularly among women, to whom she became the Number One Authority. Or some sort of Pied Piper. You know, at some level, I do get it. Oprah created the formula that spawned countless imitations and recreations. Unlike everyone else on TV, she talked about real things, the way you might with your friends. She wasn't necessarily slick and polished, like a Johnny Carson. Nor did she have an act. She would talk to celebrities like they were best buds hanging out. And later she would find interesting but not necessarily well known people, with whom she would discuss interesting things that the mainstream shows ignored. In so doing, she went from TV show host to National Treasure. Her opinions moved the needle. If Oprah spoke favorably about a book, a movie, or a candidate, that was money in the bank. Conversely, get on her bad side, and you were entering a world of pain. How funny were those idiot ranchers in Amarillo who sued her for "disparagement" under some predictably ridiculous Texas law allowing them to sue anyone who says anything bad about meat. They tried to shake her down for $11 million when she said on TV, while interviewing some vegan activist (that sounds like a fun day at the old job) that she'd never eat meat again. Those idiots lost, of course.  She became the Queen of all media: magazines, movies, books, television. You couldn't escape her. She's everywhere! Even now, after giving up her daily show, she's still inescapable. And, she's SOOOOO much more awesome than you. Is there some quiet corner where you don't have to be bombarded with her total awesomeness for 20 minutes or so? I think not. And if nothing else, she still has to answer for giving Lt. Pete Mitchell a forum for his couch jumping, "I'm in love!!" act. C'mon honey. Even John Travolta and his coterie of male masseurs think you have a denial problem.  

Half of Brangelina

Angelina Jolie: Lara Croft-playing, international baby collecting, tattoo mural wearing, UNHCR busy body AJ. Lord, what are we gonna do with you? What a road you've traveled! You go from making out with a girl in Gia to making out with your brother and marrying Billy Bob Thornton (which is really so much less respectable than making out with your brother), to toting around a vial of Billy Bob's mediocre actor's blood, to ditching him and stealing America's Sweetheart Jennifer Aniston's husband, to apparently starting a Hollywood version of the Island of Misfit International Adoptions, to suddenly taking a hard U-turn towards respectability, then pre-emptively having a double mastectomy based on having a positive genetic cancer test. Oh, and showing up as number one on about 50,000 "hottest star" lists along the way. Just one of those things would make an entire life for most people. But not for Angie. She's still on every magazine cover. Still on about half my TV channels. There's no war zone or famine-stricken region of the world that she won't descend upon. Which I suppose is admirable in some way, but I'm just so sick of her. I never thought I'd say it, but even Angelina Jolie levels of hot can get old after awhile. 

Bill Clinton: OK, this guy has got to go. We expect our ex-Presidents to become Elder Statesman.

The Prez

Stay above the fray. Do good deeds. Write your memoirs. Play golf. Show up at other ex-Prwsidenta' funerals. Raise money for charity (to be sure, the Bill has done this, between lucrative speaking engagements and self-aggrandizing political speeches). I guess the problem is we elected Bill Clinton as President at a much younger age than the usual President. So he's got more post-White House years to slog through than most former Presidents. And I suppose there's only so much golf and so many Waffle House waitresses you can endure before you want to get out there and do what you do best. No, not eating pork rinds (President Clinton admirably has gotten in fantastic physical shape, with all his spare time, thereby depriving us of all the midnight donut jokes that we forgot about once Monica came along). Politics! Ex-Presidents normally stay "above the fray," which in Clinton's case means "down in the mud." When he's not calling South Carolina primary voters a bunch of morons for not supporting his wife's 2008 candidacy, to picking fights with his party's eventual nominee, to treating this second Hillary candidacy like his own shot at a third term, don't you think its about time Bill took a rest? I admire his fundraising work with Bush 41. But otherwise, how about being an old soldier and just fading away? Its not 1992 anymore. Enjoy all that White House china you stole and let someone else have a shot.

Beyoncé: "you go girl" ism found its champion in this Fierce lady! Maybe they haven't heard of her in Togo. Or one of those atolls in the Pacific where we used to test atomic bombs back in the 1950s. But everywhere else it's all Beyoncé all the time. I mean EVERYWHERE else. I have to confess...I don't get the Beyoncé thing. She has a weak voice, sings atrocious songs, and was only the second hottest member of Destiny's Child. Here's some lyrics from her big hit, Single Ladies:  "got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips/ Hold me tighter than my Dereon jeans/Acting up, drink in my cup/I could care less what you think." This isn't exactly Gershwin here. Or Lennon-McCartney. Yeah, yeah, I know, "you kids get off my yard!" But, let's face it, Beyoncé is popular because she's hot. She dances and prances. And because she married Jay-Z (thereby making Gwynnie her number one fan). I suppose that works for awhile. But cut to Madonna trying to do the same skimpy leather dancing thing at age 70 or however old she is now. That can only play for so long. Then again, I guess after Beyoncé has earned a billion or two, she may not really care what happens when she's over 40. Kind of like I don't care what happens when she's 33.

Taylor Swift: What do you call an upside down broom? "Taylor Swift." She is everywhere though. Is it legal to have an awards show and not give something to Taylor Swift? And, how exactly did she even become famous in the first place? Its like I looked up one day and she and her blonde bangs were everywhere. Apparently she sings what passes for country music these days, specializing in tales of heartbreak. Largely brought about from the long, long list of men who, despite her looks, talent, fame, and money, quickly conclude they want nothing to do with her. Hell, even awful Katherine Heigl can keep a man. What's up with you, T? If she couldn't write about breakups by terrible men, would she have ANY songs? How crazy is she?And props to Michael J. Fox for calling her out. When that guy can nail you, you know you've crossed a line. Ultimately, Conan O'Brian called his shot, with his hilarious "22" response video. Watching this awesome take down of unwarranted privilege, if you haven't seen it, will make your day.

Neil Patrick Harris: I've kind of run out of steam at this point, so NPH gets off the hook. Suffice to say, it would be great if one awards show, anywhere, could proceed in his absence.

NOT Over:

Katy Perry: Yeah. Still a #bigfan. The more Katy Perry, the better.

Next: Let's Get Real

Moratorium! Part One

Don't mess with my girl

A two parter, both concerning people that I'm sick of hearing about. Time to move on along. Here, I name some people that its time to stop kicking them. We get it. They're horrible, or failures, or whatever. Message received. Loud. Clear. Can we go after someone else now? Like Kobe, perhaps?

In part two, I name some people who, for the love of God, can we please go for one minute about hearing how spectacularly and impossibly awesome they are?

Miley Cyrus. Does she actually sing songs? Because for all I can tell, she's just in the shock business. But at some point, you go as far as you can go and then you have to rely on actual real talent. Which I'll assume for the sake of argument that Hannah Montana has (but Miley, I'm not so sure). How long exactly can you get people to pay you to simulate (I hope) sex with various objects and backup dancers before it loses its novelty value? Yeah, I think Miley has reached that point. Short of her having a human sacrifice on stage or just going Jim Morrison in Miami on the audience, its played. Time to see whether you can get by on, I don't know, uh, SINGING. And put your tongue back in your mouth, dear. That's nasty.

Pres. Obama. Remember that line in Animal House when they're viewing pictures of the pledges and deciding whether to give them an offer, and Flounder's photo comes up, and everyone boos and hisses, and Otter gets up and says "ok, this guy's a real zero, that's true," and then defends him? That's kind of where the 44th President of the United States is now. He came into office only six years ago, the darling of the media, a transformational, iconic figure. His party had control over both houses of Congress. He had sky high approval ratings. He even won a Nobel Peace Prize, basically for not being George W. Bush. Today, things are different. You don't even have to run off a list of defeats and failures. Actions speak louder than words. Congress flipped to the Republicans. His own party's candidates, the sharps, not only told him not to campaign for them, half of them wouldn't even admit that they voted for him for President. THAT is not progress. So everywhere you turn, you run into some article on whether Obama can achieve anything on his agenda, will the Republicans run over him, what's wrong with the President. Hell, even the media has fallen out of love with him. Even two years from 2016, Hillary Clinton has begun receiving near Obama-like attention levels. One pictures him alone in the White House living quarters, with a bitter and resentful Michelle ("why is everyone so mean to me?"), wondering why people (other than Gwyneth Paltrow) won't just do what they're told (like they used to)?  Its a mystery. But the media cycle and the public's gnat lifetime length attention span finally caught up to him. Our President is yesterday's papers (errr, tweets). So for all you Fox Newses, and Tea Party "Patriots," and talk radio outlets, and Facebook crazies, its time to start letting it go. Policies are still fair game of course. Cabinet appointments. Supreme Court nominees. But all the fun we used to get from wondering where he was really born or if he's a secret Muslim covertly working to plant terrorists in the country and install "Sharia law" (whatever the hell that is) or if Michelle secretly munches on fries and apple turnovers when no one's looking...its played. Time to move on to something and someone else. Like whether Hillary had Vince Foster whacked so he wouldn't disclose what was in those "lost" Rose Law Firm billing records. (Look it up kids).

Not good for the look

Amanda Bynes. You know how its funny when the truant officer or the dog catcher slips on a banana peel and falls on his butt, but not when Tiny Tim or some infirm elderly lady does the exact same thing? Enter Amanda Bynes, once promising tween star, and current leader in the clubhouse in the Crazy Invitational. She's gone from promising Disney star, sitcom lead, and top billed movie actress, to sleeping in malls because her parents (who were put in charge of her estate due to Amanda's, um, you know, problems) won't spring for a hotel (which is odd because she has an apartment). The tabloids that previously were all over Britney's parking problems and Charlie Sheen's everything problems have switched in full force over to Amanda. The thing is though, Amanda Bynes was never some horrible, Joan Crawford-like bitch on wheels who made everyone's life a living hell and tough for her she deserves whatever she gets. She was just some kid with good looks and a lot of talent, who got pushed through the Disney "star machine" and suffered the predictable consequences. My God, does anyone come out of that even halfway not a human dumpster fire? Demi Lovato, Miley Cyrus, Justin Timberlake's hair....When your parent sign your first Disney Channel contract, do they agree on your probation terms while they're at it? Sheesh!Anyway, its long past the point of this being anything other than an 25-car pileup on an icy interstate over Thanksgiving. Hopefully this woman can get some treatment and get back some semblance of a life.  

Mommy make the mean lady stop!

The Bieb. This guy...OMG!! He tweets from tub, he sends bodyguards to beat up journalists, he cuts lines at Disney in wheelchair, he strips live on CBS, he makes KKK jokes, he abandons his pet monkey in Germany (nice move, Ross from Friends, having a pet monkey in the first place), he says Anne Frank would have been a Belieber at the Anne Frank House (yeah, THAT Anne Frank). Lord. Its hard to believe some Tony Soprano-like character hasn't had this guy whacked just on general principle. No one should be this much of a douche. Its like at some point, his insufferableness will just collapse on itself like some neutron star and form a black hole, which, hopefully, will send him off to some other dimension. And yet, that's kind of the point. Does anyone NOT get it at this point? If we just kind of look the other way, won't he go back to whatever Axe Body Spray bottle he mutated out of? Why don't we try it?

LiLo-Funny how getting famous during childhood always leads to having a totally normal, balanced adult life. Signed, Judy Garland. Anyway, who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me...to ridicule? Oh sure, she had plenty of competition-the Kardashians, the Hiltons, Charlie Sheen, Bennifer. But for sustained excellence in the art of omnipresent scandal, LiLo is still the Queen of Scum. Drug romps, being a Sunset Strip peg-board and human petri dish, hanging out in clubs every night, -like behavior on set, smoking like a chimney (she has asthma), shoplifting, violating her contracts, squandering her real and considerable acting talent...she's the John Daly of Hollywood. LiLo's a multi-sport star: sex, divaism, drugs, rage, criminality, showing her junk in innumerable "leaked" photos, and physical recklessness. One can picture her and Macauley Culkin getting together years from now and speculating on what might have been. Actually, it would never happen because LiLo would be four hours late and Culkin would pass out on a grate somewhere before the meetup. Sad. And, exactly. Sad. When the Lindz still had some passable level of abilities-to act, to model, or even to be intriguing, making fun of her was entirely reasonable. Like any person with power who abuses it, she was fair game. Now, its like, "that's an interesting handbag, oh wait, its Lindsay Lohan." Time to look the other way. Maybe one day the thing inside her that's leading to all her escapades will finally release her. Like Amanda, one would hope it happens before its too late.


Still fair to hate: Gwynnie. I know, I know. America's Sweetheart? But...Goop. There's the REAL crime against humanity.  Goop raises the question "can we be 'consciously uncoupled' from Gwyneth, and if so, how soon can we do it?"

NEXT: the people who are SO OVER!

So Last Night I Was At This Coffee Shop....

Some guys have it...
 

If I had time to write, for real, I might consider starting a new blog named "Weirdness Amongst the Humans." Because no matter where I go or what I do, odd things happen when I'm out among the non-equals. If its not weirdoes in Alexandria, La coming up to me in locker rooms asking me if I'm a preacher, or weirdoes asking me if I'm Charlie Sheen, or weirdoes getting married by a ventriloquist with a Richard Nixon dummy, I just can't seem to shake the weirdness.

Like last night, for example.

Background: I've been basically dying a slow stress-related death these past few weeks managing a huge Public Utility Commission case. We've been taking a lot of shots, as it were, and I've been finding it hard to sleep, to eat, to exercise. Stress has basically captured my body like some Invasion of the Body Snatchers pod creature, slowly turning me inside out. Not fun.

Today was the big hearing. It went just fine, natch.

But last night, I was preparing late into the night. I went to my top secret hangout (top secret so that I can keep a hangout where I can work away from everyone). Of course, I was lost in thought and had about a thousand binders and stacks of paper in front of me, feverishly working away while thoughts of professional ruin if I blew this hearing consumed me. In other words, a normal Thursday night.

From out of nowhere, a very attractive, young (early 20s), tall, brunette woman walked right up to me and asked if I was busy. No, really. Seriously.

Let's stop right here.

This won't be THAT kind of story. Unfortunately. Which is kind of the point.

Anyway, I told her "well, yes kind of, but what's up?"

She had a kind of anguished look on her face and started stammering out "do you mind if I ask you a question?" I told her no, of course not. She introduced herself as "Victoria" and I asked her to sit down, which she did. Sensing she was very uncomfortable about something, I asked her what was the matter.

To which she replied, "well, um, so...how do you talk to guys?"

For years now, I've wondered when I'd reach that age where women like this go from regarding me as some sort of potentially eligible man that they should either guard against or try to attract, to being that kindly, non-threatening little old man whose presence raises not the slightest hint of a threat. Or prospect. In that split second, I realized I'd finally crossed that threshold of decrepitude. Lovely.

I told her "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I know what you mean. 'Talk to guys'...how?"

She explained that there was some really cute guy out in the courtyard...blah, blah, blah...at that point my mind began to wander. Still she droned on.  "My heart is beating so fast....," "what do I say?" "what would he think?"

Lady, honestly, he'd probably wonder why you were talking to the geezer at the other table just a couple of minutes before.

Other thoughts raced through my mind. Aren't you a millennial? Don't you kids do this stuff ALL THE TIME? Why don't women come up to me, except for pointers on how to score some hot coffee guy action with someone not named Chris Reeder? How exactly do you talk to men? And while we're at it, what is it about me that screams out "excels in picking up men at coffee shops"?

Really, two possibilities reasonably explained this. One was that I look like a kind, old, trustworthy, friendly, non-threatening guy, who might really know the mythological key to snagging eligible bachelors that seems to elude 20s women everywhere. Damn, if I were around and willing to help, Sex In the City would never have happened. I'd have gotten them all hooked up before Episode 1. But, wizened and haggard. Past my prime. No longer in the game but able to share Obi Wan-like inner secrets to help the next generation along.

Or, I look like "Guy On the Make," who would know all about how a woman should scam on some guy. The Daddy Mack of that after-10-on-a-weeknight coffee shop set.

Or maybe somewhere in between.

So, letting the better angels of my nature hold sway, I counseled Victoria. "Well, the best thing to say is 'Hi, I'm Victoria, how are you?'" Or failing that, she could ask him if he was enjoying the night, or what he was drinking. She could remark on what he was wearing. Or, if worse came to worse, she could just look at him and smile, and maybe prompt him to approach her. I reminded her that she was able to start talking to me out of the blue, so surely she could do it with the mouth breather making her heart go pitter pat.

Of course, she wasn't nervous talking to me, because, I'm 150 years old and of no conceivable interest to her whatsoever.

Give me credit for not telling her to take off her underwear, walk up to him and hand them to him. I told you, its not THAT kind of story. Or a fraternity party.

So, buoyed with Chris' Dating Tips, she headed out to the courtyard, looking for love in all the wrong places.

Later that night, I walked outside to try to see whether Victoria had made a Love Connection. I didn't find her. Maybe she'd blown it off. Maybe the guy wasn't interested. Maybe they went somewhere else to get to know each other better. And maybe even now, they're on Hour 24 of the most romantic, meet cute of all time.

Or maybe she was a total nut job.

Whatever happened, it remains Victoria's secret. (Sorry about that, it's late. I'm old). 

Can I please just get my work done and not have to deal with all this nonsense from now on?

Please resume your normal activities.