Posts Tagged ‘celebrity

22
May
25

Milking the Movies; Sequels That Should Just Die

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Coming soon to theaters…

Jurassic Park 17, featuring…who have we got lined up for this one? I dunno. I forget. We’ve done so many. What’s the plot, this time? I don’t know that, either. It’s scary and thrilling, as always. It’s dinosaurs on the loose! They’re savage and they came from a lab where humans keep making the same mistakes with genetics! It’s science!
Now, get out there and sell it every way you can. Get P and G on it. Every movie must be sponsored by Tide detergent, now.

PUKE CITY!

When a movie franchise is reduced to just casting some new face that hasn’t been in one…maybe because now every celebrity wants part of the action/thriller genre…it’s just asking people to stay home and give up on movies.

Honestly, Scarlett J. What is so special about your new movie? The dinosaur one. Yeah. That. No, the first one you did. Wait, you’re booked for more than one? Oy.

[Unlike the image I’ve attached to this post… I wouldn’t mind working on a Dick Tracy (1990) sequel.]

08
Jan
25

The Demi-Moore Moment and Other Golden Globes

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I stuck to my word. I refused to watch another awards show…and only caught bits of this most recent one. I didn’t exactly cave, but it snagged me as I passed through a room with that channel on the TV. I was more interested in the antics of the hostess, Nikki Glaser, than the awards themselves, which I knew would annoy me inexplicably. [From what I saw of her jokes, she was on fire. I didn’t feel the uncomfortable tension I’ve felt from other (male) hosts.]

Among the biggest buzz about this latest Golden Globes is Demi Moore getting her very first acting award? It seems impossible until you hear how someone refers to her as a “popcorn actress,” which I am roughly translating as someone who might fill a theater but won’t be respected as a high-class star. Often blockbusters like Star Wars and superhero films get seasonal attention but don’t get nominated for much other than musical score and/or sound. [And, popcorn sales go up during the (summer) weeks those movies run in theaters.] Or, rather, that was the way, but changes seem to be happening.

I had to know what earned her this award.

[I’ve seen a number of Demi’s films and wouldn’t call most of them “popcorn” films. Her early films of the 1980s had a certain share-popcorn-with-your-friends-while-you-relate-to-this vibe but were equally unsettling, emotion-evoking, in a way. None of her films seem easy on the stomach, not even Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle (which may be the only film I’d consider a “popcorn film”). Ghost is probably the most potent. I personally don’t crave popcorn when a woman like her is being sexy, fierce or emotionally wounded. I’ll take a drink, though; I get dehydrated when visuals make me shudder or tremble. Can I call her a soda actress?]

movie-theater_reddecor1

And, upon seeing a sampling, I feel this and a number of other awards given to women of a certain age bracket are pity awards, like pardons given to criminals who have been detained too long. [The Substance looks and sounds like a shock-intended statement piece, a sort of art film (which I never heard about until this awards show). So what does that tell you?]

I think some of the tears in Demi’s eyes were a sort of embarrassment, of humiliation, for having to wait so long. Sure, there was gratitude, too, like a starving artist selling a rare painting. But, she looked sort of sad…yet stunning in that golden, molded dress. [The earrings were lame, but the dress was glorious.]

And, that’s the real Globe for Demi, her dress…and a second–perhaps more vital–Globe for her speech about identifying your own self-worth instead of letting some company or organization or the press or your agent evaluate you. You don’t have to be an egotistical snob and demand more of people trying to assist you, but you can hold your head up and evaluate yourself rather than let others decide your fate. [If only that speech would have come after a more significant role; but, when you’ve waited this long just to give a speech, what can you expect?]

I will take that golden Demi moment with me as far as I can carry (or recall) it. It turns the page on that one past award show in which an award-starved Sally Field cried out, “You like me. You really like me.”  [I thought Susan Lucci was the one who said that until I looked it up.  Susan has been another award-starved actress.]

[Demi’s acceptance speech reminded me of my own life and how many times I’ve had to watch others get notice and awards while I got nothing except, maybe, a can of nuts or crappy candy. It also reminds me of when I was pursuing art school and had an admissions guy essentially dismiss my life’s work, my portfolio, before praising his own depressing painting on an office wall, before he took me and my parents on a tour of a very lewd and horrifying artworks made by students. I threw away my portfolio, in anger, and swore I’d change, somehow, to find a better well of talent within myself. That experience changed my outlook on a career in art, yet I am still an artist looking for my proper place in this world. So, though it wounded me (and made me wary of compliments), it didn’t end me.]

Maybe the lesson is that the real stars, the actors, actresses and production crew that deserve the honors don’t often get the trophies because the trophies come with shady behind-the-scenes deals for other projects. By not getting an award, perhaps Demi was spared this freight train of deceit and allowed to pick roles that suited her. I’d say she is a rare face that wasn’t exactly type-cast; wouldn’t you?

[If I was Demi, I’d go to the next award show in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Just be casual and cool, forget the fortune you are pressured to wear (and risk) and ignore the awards until she gets summoned or is asked to speak on someone’s behalf. It’s unfortunate some people have to be “dolled up” and dragged to so many of these events just to watch others get so much attention and trophies; it’s torture for those who don’t win and don’t just come to enjoy the company/atmosphere. It’s hard to enjoy the latter when there is so much focus on the former.]

07
Dec
24

Sarah Rafferty, You Are an ANGEL!

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It’s not often, anymore, that I fall in love with an actress on TV. But, after recent exposure to a show I missed when it debuted, Suits, I have fallen head-over-heels in love with Sarah Rafferty’s Donna. Oh, oh, Donna. You are an ANGEL! Without you, the show is a wash of guys falling over each other and one hot boss. Every time someone seems to be upset about something not working the way they want it to, Donna is there to talk sense into someone. I’ve never seen her do anything selfish. And, in the rare instance she is outsmarted or left embarrassed by her mistake, she handles it well.

So, this may seem like a belated greeting card. But, Sarah Rafferty, Donna, you are an absolute delight, and I would love to work with you, at that law firm or probably anywhere we could collaborate. If Sarah is anything like Donna, everyone on this planet should thank their lucky stars you are willing to help.

I can’t say enough…Donna, from Suits, is awesome. [Forget the rest of the cast, even though they may get a little more credit or face on the advertising. Donna’s the real heroine.]

…but if I had to sum up the series in one line or lesson, I’d say you can’t trust someone, who’s not certified with a law-school degree and certain legal rights, to acquire the evidence needed to close a case with moral justice. It’s a nice fantasy written by a half-baked author, but the series repeatedly washes over these slips while trying to make unqualified and unauthorized people do amazing things for social/moral justice. The show almost defeats itself. It wants the fantasy of the underdog success story but can’t get around the legal pitfalls.

———–

[Suits ended some time ago; I’m not sure when.  I seem to recall seeing some sort of cast reunion…maybe on Jimmy Kimmel’s show…in which members of the Suits cast said Donna was the heroine of the show.  If that’s right, please reassure me.  Otherwise, I am imagining things.  But, it feels like a distant memory.]

07
Dec
24

What Is Ahead of Gray Divorce?

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I’ve only recently heard the term.

GRAY DIVORCE

It refers to people ending their marriages typically after reaching retirement age and/or after your “nest” becomes empty (when all of your children have homes of their own). And, apparently, it’s a growing trend? This is the next wave in human sexuality, following the birth-control, or casual-sex-is-exercise, generation and the oops-we-fooled-around-now-I’m-stuck-with-a-kid-let’s-get-married-so-we-don’t-burn-at-the-stake generation.

I heard someone say gray divorce is for people who “find they no longer have much in common.” Excuse me? Isn’t that what so SO many couples boast when they marry (if they don’t rush into marriage within a year or two)? “I married my best friend.” “We have so much in common. It was inevitable we’d get married.” If you have used either of those quotes, you deserve to get your butt kicked. Gray divorce makes those lines almost worthless. I’m…discouraged. Common interests are no longer enough to secure happiness? What else is there? An endless longing for what cannot be fully perceived? A void that cannot be filled?

A world without love stories? Is that what’s ahead? It’s so terrifying and sickening… Just imagine people losing interest in romantic films, including romantic comedies. Or, maybe, all romantic stories will become comedies because lasting love has become a bad joke. Is marriage really no longer the apex of life and love?

It’s shocking to hear which celebrities have already faced this, knowing (from TV sources) these were people who had claimed to be so content and happy with their spouses. In some cases, I’ve remotely envied them and wanted to be their devoted partner. But, in general, I’ve looked to these people as examples of what is right and what can last. They made it work. How did they do it? I can find lasting happiness, too. But, if they get divorced…what does that say about this old chestnut about lasting happiness called marriage?

[Well, at least, I have a shot at Meryl Streep, now. Ha. I may have a “bucket list” of older women I’d like to date. I’d mention names, but I don’t want to cause any premature gray divorces. Ha, again. I’d say “marry,” but, I guess, that’s no longer valued or necessary.]

If marriage is no longer a sensible pursuit, what is left?

I’m sure many would respond with something similar to the opinion of a tattoo. People rush to get tattoos; they don’t wait a few years or a decade to get one unless they are just “getting by” on a thin budget. So, you get divorced because you feel you and your chosen spouse no longer have “the spark.” You hear what others (who have been “gray divorced”) are saying, and decide you feel the same way; so let’s do this. Shortly after getting it done (like knotting the tubes), you think you just opened the doors to a dating (and sexual) grocery store. You are free to explore, again.

That’s all fine and good for those who always were rather adventurous and careless (versus careful). Good luck with that. And, be sure to let us know if STDs and unplanned pregnancies are no longer an issue with your wrinkled sexual exploration. [Don’t even get me started on abortion law or how it impacts anyone’s moral/religious code.]

Yet, no matter who you are, life isn’t quite the same when you’re older. Just as you are not likely as fit and/or quick as you were when you first got married, you’re not likely to be as adept at finding someone new (if you try). The dating pool seems bigger, but is it really? And, how do you even choose to do something with someone if common interests no longer guarantee something that will last? [Or, do you join a club and hang out with fellow “classmates” until the final session ends and then move on to something (and someone) else?]

If you choose to remain single after “gray divorce,” are you REALLY single for the rest of your life? Or, are you dipping your toes in sexual pools wherever and whenever you can?

Now, here comes a traffic sign I presume few are expecting. [EEERRROOP! Hit those brakes.]

INFIDELITY ALERT!

If you take away enough wedding rings and set these caged animals free, you suddenly change the (food) chain/pyramid, particularly for safe and secure marriages. And, if you know people are considering divorce at any age, you’re more inclined to pursue someone who’s currently married (like a salivating hyena that just found some new prey to hunt in his forest).

There’s a little line that goes something like this…

IS THE PERSON I’M ATTRACTED TO LEGALLY ABLE TO PAIR UP WITH ME?

We’re going beyond the concept of “cougars” by introducing some of those “dinosaurs” we didn’t consider a concern until now. With marriage no longer a mountain to bypass or avoid when you’re “single and looking,” you might pressure someone to get (gray) divorced, claiming the separation is only inevitable (as the marriage may have been, once). How sick is that?

“Hey, babe. I know you’re bound to get gray-divorced sooner or later. So, let’s cut to the sooner and have you get together with me.”

You may laugh at the thought of some gray-haired individual flirting with you or your chosen partner, but it could happen. Some people actually like older folks in a special way.

[I’m not particularly focused on any age, but some women DO age gracefully and can be admired with their weathered features. You do not need to Botox or color yourself until you look like a toy. If I wasn’t entirely happy with my marriage when Meryl Streep (or one of the other names I refrain from mentioning) decided to flirt with me, I might be tempted to indulge in some infidelity. If she approached me while I’m single, I wouldn’t hesitate. ‘Just saying. If she’s not your type or someone you’d consider “hot,” just understand that not every attraction comes from being exceptionally physically attractive. Meryl has a “swag” that cannot be contained; she exudes charm, and that’s why so many of her roles are enjoyable.]

And, here’s another little likely unexpected speed bump. What if some elder person flirted with you (or your partner) and was rejected so painfully that they had a heart attack? Can you imagine?

[Coming up on tonight’s breaking news, a local man breaks Meryl Streep’s heart for the last time. Witnesses say she collapsed on a bed of magnolia petals shortly after her latest fling broke up with her. Police on the scene did nothing because rejection and separation are not considered murder.]

It’s one thing to face heartache in your youth. But, how well can a motivated retiree take it? Again, like doing certain physical activities, if you’re not in that kind of shape, it may not be smart to get too excited about any intimate prospect. [Or, is the opposite true? Could being aroused by the sight of a potential mate make you feel…younger?…safely?]

Could that be the future of gray divorce? Could people settle for simply enjoying arousal when and where they find it, rather than pursuing another course of what went wrong? Could people find contentment without a relationship (or flirting with sexual hazards)? Or, in some crazy science-fiction-al way, could humans evolve in some way that allows them to forego marriage for a more casual sexual experience without hazard and commitment? Could humans somehow break the cycle of STDs and choose to get pregnant?…’sounds like playing god if you ask me.

What are your thoughts on this matter?

Be sure to hit the LIKE button and subscribe to my post if you are still physically able to do so, at your age. ‘Just kidding.

27
Nov
24

Representation Overkill Causes Nausea

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News at 11!

Or, whatever.

I’ve had enough! I am quite sick of everyone on TV (and I’m sure other forms of media) having to represent something while putting their face or voice “out there.”

You may be “black” or “Muslim” or have some missing body part that makes you special. Maybe you’re gay and recently decided to advertise this discovery, as if you found King Tut’s tomb. Whatever the case may be, you cannot just do anything caught on camera without representing SOMETHING. Some cause needs to rally around your actions to sponsor or, at least, pressure to sponsor you. Every face spotted in a public place or televised program must MATTER somehow.

Are we all NASCAR racecars in need of multiple decals applied to our appearances? Isn’t spotlighting someone for being black or handicapped as bad as mistreating them for the same reason? I’d say so.

Oh, Mr. Writingbolt. You have a big head. What does this thing you are doing mean to all the other big heads in the world? How does it feel to be a big-headed person in this event? [Why don’t you just take a picture and plaster my big head on your billboard while you’re at it, you thoughtless jerks. Better yet; start a charity for big-headed people and ask me to be the spokesperson, so I can annoy people with incessant ads while they’re trying to unwind from their day.]

If you don’t represent, you don’t matter…UNLESS you are the poster boy or girl for some branch of the Disney Empire…then you’re straight. You’re okay. You can skip the representation line. In fact, it’s best if you don’t represent anything and can be molded into whatever role they’re willing to give you. If Disney says you’re going to be a penguin, you be the best damn penguin you can be and remain the same for eighty years. Okay? And, don’t you dare be caught on camera as anything or anyone else.

[Some would say the opposite of the above is true, regarding Disney. You might say they are all about representing something bigger than an individual’s effort/achievement. And, I wouldn’t say you are wrong. But, there is a strange sort of “molding” in the world of Disney that is racist, sexist and/or pressurized. If you are approved by Disney to be part of their world, just about anything you do will be heralded and applauded. You cannot lose if Disney approves you. And, the more ground and resources Disney acquires, the more they can approve and manipulate. Once you lose or abandon that approval, you go into witness protection (so to speak); you disappear and, probably, keep your mouth shut if you don’t want trouble.]

My stomach cannot remain calm. I’ve seen far too many bleached teeth, BOTOX’d faces and staged dramatic scenes befitting some show bent on pairing people together while too often failing to do just that.

—–

Spontaneous detour…

Meanwhile, I see someone, who’s generally pretty, flashing a shine on their cheeks and/or their forehead…maybe a little cleavage, too. And, I want to scream. I know how I don’t like to look at myself in the mirror, anymore. But, if I have to resort to THAT, to treating my face like a clay pot with cracks in it, any confidence I claim to take from it will never be genuine. It’s fraud that’s so apparent, you don’t have to “represent” it.

If I looked like that, I’d be cracking on the inside, anyway. My calm would be as fragile as tissue paper (as if it’s not already). I might as well slather myself in mayo…because, you know, every “helpful” cream out there has to be as white as bird poop. Am I hiding something? Am I repairing myself? No; what gave you that idea? What? You can SEE the stuff on my skin? The size of my head doesn’t suit the rest of my body after taking weight-management drugs? You mean I don’t look fit and trim when I’m obviously uncomfortable in my own natural body?

How do you address someone who is obviously paranoid about every little line on their face (yet unable to do anything about moles)? How do you convince them that they don’t have to look plastic to be accepted for who they are? It’s not any easier with so many ads for toothpaste and the same dentist/dental assistant ready to put you in the spotlight for being “less than white.”

This sort of vain behavior is the collateral damage, the side effect, the aftershock of excess representation (and soooo many accolades, so many trophies).

You can treat your body like a plastic toy. But, soon enough, you’ll sacrifice your mind and soul, too, just to forget what you did to yourself out of vanity overload.

Now, I’m not saying you cannot “have work done” if it genuinely helps you feel better on a daily basis. If it helps you look in the mirror with comfort, have at it. If it allows your clothes to rest comfortably against your skin without an annoying burning or itchy feeling, that’s good. If you can remove a bothersome mole or outbreak of spots that make you look like you’ve been hit with a plague, I approve.

On the other hand, if you think you can plaster wrinkles the rest of your life, you’re crazy. There comes a point when the human body simply unrolls something in response to your chosen lifestyle. And then there is aging. We all have to age someday…as far as I know.

But, DO NOT attempt repairs if you must be on camera “the next day.” You might as well have your clothes on the floor. I suspect this is why some actors and actresses must learn to put up with things like crowded teeth; the alternative would be more detrimental to their career, especially if they “have to always be on.”

If this “work” leaves you looking like an art project gone wrong…I’ve got nothing positive to say. It’s tragic (what you did). I’m pretty sure the right people–as I’m often told–would accept you, wrinkles, spots and all.

[I haven’t exactly found those people, yet. So, I could be wrong. But, I’m still bothered by the excessive and obvious evidence of vain reconstruction.]

I know a few celebrities who actually look good with wrinkles and gray hair; they aged well. And, even if they don’t, how can we be heartless and treat them as anything other than human (like ourselves)? I don’t necessarily approve of everyone who “embraces the gray” and changes everything to be “platinum,” including their wardrobe. But, some “grayheads” look good. The others simply don’t need me or anyone to evaluate them.

—–

Back to the matter of excessive and canned representation…

If I hear one more person ask, “What does (what you recently did on camera) mean to you (as a representative of ___)?

It means everything to you. The experience is amazing and unbelievable. You are so fortunate. [And, you recite this more than once, whenever you are hit with the same tired, abused questions, as if you have to sell the show, so others will submit to its deception and feed the monster.]

…I don’t even want to say it. But, I’m ill.

—–

I’m going to pause, again, to give a response from my own gut. I don’t care what televised thing I am doing. Even if it actually alters my lifestyle, my personal world and space, in some way that makes me feel life just got better, it does NOT “mean everything to me,” no matter how dazzling it may seem. I could win the billion-dollar lottery and still find myself facing the same daily struggles when the money runs out (if I don’t invest wisely).

I don’t think anything should hold the value of “everything” because that would make it lethal. Your life means everything to you…or you die. A few weeks with a televised contest of a very staged fashion should not impact whether you live or die. Those trite expressions really annoy me. They are a loss of your common sense, submitting to emotional overload. Some would call this dramatizing, the equivalent of throwing a fit about this being “the worst day ever.”

Are we honestly supposed to believe every person who recites the above lines is being genuine? Everyone of them has had the “everything” experience from being part of this show? I highly doubt that. So, why say it?

If anyone is saying something just to respond to a microphone in their face, to appease the snoop, I’m going to get agitated. If it was a great experience for you, say so, but don’t exaggerate to the extent that you make it sound like everyone should do what you did. Odds are they won’t get the chance; so don’t deceive or tease them. Just speak for yourself (and say you had a good time).

And, if you want me to say the above lines, I will not respect you. If you threaten me to say those lines, I will probably comply and then avoid you like the plague for the rest of my days, regretting the trap I entered. I will speak unkindly (to say the least) of you whenever possible. I will NOT be coming back to watch others play your game. And, I will not tell others to play along.

—–

How is anyone supposed to feel “normal” or comfortable with anything they do if it has to be put in the form of a term-paper Q-and-A?

What makes matters even worse (on top of nauseating) is when what someone “represents” is tainted with falsehood, when something like charity is just a wholesome cover for something questionable. Imagine someone who is being promoted as the poster man or woman for a new movie while secretly participating in sexual assault or financial fraud. Imagine a charity that’s just an excuse for a tax write-off (evasion) or cover for a measly paycheck on some game show. And, we never know until someone decides to take that person to court; that seems to be the status quo for exposing a lie.

When the truth comes out…if it ever truly comes out…there’s often no coming back from it. They’re marked. [Yet, some famous faces have a remarkable way of redeeming themselves in whatever way they can. Some buy their way out of legal action. I don’t necessarily accept that redemption. But, others seem to give it a stamp of approval.]

When do we get out of the classroom, out of the spotlight or off the podium? When does a “celebrity” get to just be the person they were named instead of the face of something on a poster? No wonder we can’t be okay with a little weight gain or flawed skin. Every time we see someone “famous,” they have to be…perfectly okay with everything. If they’re having a bad day or craving something that’s not family-channel approved, there must be something wrong with them; they need “help.” [And, that isn’t the sort of help you get from spending a relaxing day with a good friend.]

Of course, we need to have more ads for psychological help, for all those harmed by the sheer overload of representation, I bet. It’s damage control for a bad habit that’s being promoted like smoking (or, more recently, “vaping”); we are told it’s bad but some people still feel the need to sell you something that contributes to the problem. It’s like sitting at an award ceremony and going home with nothing but the memory of being caught on camera with no accolades to advertise.

So, what are YOU doing here at this award ceremony, where so many are being spotlighted for their recent projects? Nothing? Well, at least, you and your plus one are…uh…looking good. Who are you wearing? Okay. We don’t care. See you on the best dressed reel, tomorrow, and in the next issue of People magazine. Do you have a quote we can use?

It’s bad enough “celebrities” have to be canned the way they are when “promoting” their latest film, podcast or whatever. It’s like a never-ending job interview. You can’t say anything negative about anything, even if it just popped in your head while being asked about the director or a co-star you cannot stand. What was it like? It was…AMAZING. It’s all good. Right?…as you choke on the vomit in your throat. Pitch that resume. Get the next job offer. Everyone wants you because you don’t complain. You’re flawless. [As if.]

Now, if the above turns me off, it turns off my TV. And, if other people turn off the TV or ignore the magazines, all that time and effort applied to painting celebrities as polished and perfectly happy is wasted. No one’s even looking when someone is jabbing a microphone in a famous face and, obviously, making them feel pressured and uncomfortable with the “routine.”

I may not be a fan of some people, but I’ll be less of a fan of more people if they continue to be displayed this canned, artificial way. Even my favorite faces darken my heart whenever I see them “masking” something. I don’t like telling lies, and I don’t like seeing others do it. I’m not the best judge of liars, but, eventually, I know and retaliate.

If celebrities are prone to seeking psychological help, using recreational (and illegal) drugs and facing plastic surgery, what do they think their “fans” are doing? Isn’t it apparent? If someone is in the spotlight, silently saying “this is okay” (what they are doing), witnesses will emulate. And, if the witnesses cannot afford what the celebrities are doing, they will bankrupt themselves in more ways than just financial.

Talk about being bad examples. Forget whatever you think you’re representing for a job that lasts less than a year. Think about your impact on the lives watching you. Of course, when your luxurious financial well-being/ego depends upon that job, you might slight (all of) your spectators. Having to be more selective about the food and/or clothing you buy or what parties you may have to skip is too much to bear (for you).

[If all of this “pressure” is deemed necessary to get a film into theaters (especially a film that betrays its source material by changing the story, as so many films do for whatever reason), I’d say the whole thing is a waste of resources and people. A big budget disaster and lie is what I’d call this. Instead of sticking one cigarette into one person’s mouth, you’re making the whole sky toxic by crowding countless mouths with rolls of excuse paper. Add on the magazine features, DVD extras and merchandise…and I’d be inclined to consider something dark and disturbing I’d rather not mention.]

Can’t everyone just be somewhere, participating without representing? If you’re a guest on a talk show, sure; you’ll want to have something to discuss. But, honestly, for anyone who’s just happy to see someone they like, can’t fans simply enjoy that?…versus pressing the same old questions about what’s coming to theaters or (Cable) TV? See. Then it would actually be good to see someone, again, versus catering to a “plug.”

You know what would really make a celebrity shine in my eyes? Seeing them completely comfortable in their own natural skin, warts and all. [Of course, few or no warts would be better because even I have been conditioned to be that vain.] They don’t have to be the most shiny Muslim or black person (who isn’t exactly black because their parents are “mixed”) or participant in any celebrity showcase. They don’t have to be wearing designer clothes I’ll never afford nor wear. They don’t have to have their ribs showing, bleach their naturally brown skin or dark hair or fit into a size-0 dress. They certainly don’t have to flash cleavage (especially if it’s not there). They don’t have to invite thieves and trolls to assault them (with how they present themselves).

Crack a joke. Tell an embarrassing story, once in your life. Blush a little when you make a mistake. You’re human. Represent that.

But, he or she can’t just be comfortable with their self. They also have to exhibit a compatible personality (for me to like or ever love them). And, if they don’t have that compatible personality? Then I don’t have to be a fan…and that’s okay! Everyone doesn’t have to be the fan of everyone else. Just don’t add to the hate by pretending to be something you’re not or letting anyone spotlight you for something you did not come to do.

[In the case of a certain dancing competition, you didn’t sign on to tote a sign for “black lives matter.” You came to prove you could dance and, maybe, win a trophy. So, if someone asks you how it feels to be the first black woman (if that’s even true) in the finale (and ensuing tour), you don’t give them a single word of compliance. You tell them this isn’t about being black. This is about you. And, as selfish as it may seem, it will be respected. Maybe you’re not toting the weight of every racial issue popping up in the world, but you’re helping yourself with art therapy. Represent that. It’s more important for all of us to heal ourselves and appreciate the arts than think about how being famous and black makes you the spokeswoman for an entire race of people. And, shame on all who press these routine questions on camera; you are tools, slaves of the media. What do we know about slavery? Exactly.]

Go away, you who are phony, canned, visibly waxed, bleached….artificial. And, if you are being forced to represent something for a cause rather than being welcomed for who you are as a person, I don’t want to see you. Forced representation sucks. It’s a bad perfume ad. We don’t need perfume or makeup to cover what we are. We need to know who and what we are and accept that.

Period.

Mic dropped.

I accept that I may be more wordy than others; it’s a side effect of the pressures I’ve been forced to endure. Being more wordy has helped me be more creative expressing myself. It helps with creative writing and solving word puzzles, too. I used to be a quiet kid who did as he was told, trusted and respected most adults (even some who were not family and probably should not have been trusted) and kept himself busy (so he wouldn’t anger his unhappy, quarreling, fussy parents). Then someone, who I trusted to help me steer away from suicide, threatened my life with what they were paid to distribute. And, that turned me into what I am today. I don’t need to represent other wordy people as some sort of cause for mental health or promoting a movie. I’m just me, one of the more wordy people in this world. If you don’t like me, find someone else to read.

14
Aug
24

The World DID End in 2012, as Told Aug. 14, 2024 Edition

****

And, I’m a lone, confused survivor, getting by in the hot mess that is unfolding. I feel like Sarah Connor in those Terminator movies and the spinoff TV series. Play the drums and hand me my assault rifle, with a grenade launcher and flamethrower. Let me put on my aviator sunglasses. Hasta la vista, humanity.

What is happening here?

It really sounds like the end of the world described in the Bible. Fires and conflicts everywhere. Riots in the streets. Mass assaults no one seems able to prevent. Political leadership in question and doubt.

On that note, let me talk about voting in the USA. No, there won’t be any national secrets unleashed, you hackers out there. I’m just talking about the basic system at hand…and only the basics of it. Voting is gradually making less and less sense. And, jokes are being made about uneducated voters. Lately, I’d say all voters who don’t interview the candidates themselves are uneducated. And, voting seems very unintelligent in more ways than one.

Recently, a “primary” vote was cast/called for which limited voters to two choices, even though the ballots had multiple choices on them.

Now, unless I’ve just walked into a crazy dimension where the old rules don’t apply and madness rules, a primary has always been a vote, before the final vote cycle, in which parties (Democratic and Republican) filtered out the candidates that were not popular for each position. You had the complex task of learning about every candidate (or just wildly picking…or basing your decisions upon which party you think has more sense, thus pegging the other party as the enemy, even though both parties have to somehow work together to include everybody in a UNITED country). Then you had to pick which candidate you favored for each job category. So, maybe you like this one blue guy for senator and this one red gal for district leader in that one part of town. You broke down the options before the final vote, which typically happens in November. There have also been primaries for each party, so you could breathe a little easier and only pick your favorites (or least hated, if you are so inclined to favor only one party/side) from each side before deciding who gets the final votes.

Apparently, this recent primary eliminated most of the “confusion” and difficulty by giving voters, essentially, one choice. [Just like my family only gives me one choice when attempting to have a discussion; either I agree with what they are thrusting in my face or they ignore an badger me.]

There were multiple items and people to vote for on both the Democratic and Republican side. But, there was a hitch, a trick. And, if you didn’t listen, your vote did nothing. The trick was you had to pick all blue or all red choices; no mixing. Strangely, while you could go down the page and pick out individuals you liked (or hated less than others), you were limited to one color, one side; and if you didn’t like someone on that one color’s side…well, tough.

Just push one button, and you’re done (but look at all of the details you don’t want to read because their are choices you are making with that one choice which you cannot alter if you are a true believer of democracy and would like to be fair to both parties). And, by that, I mean there could be good candidates in both parties, people who could work the two sides together in harmony…but voting is ruling that kind of thinking out. You either are blue or red. [There is no Pokémon-game-version mixing here; no trading version exclusives.]

Well, that sounds as simple as you can get, but where is the fairness to both sides? And, how can choosing one option, one side, one color, also impact other decisions that affect vital rule-setting documents? [Talk about some mad villain’s plot to dangle the hero over a dooming device. Will you the voter survive this dastardly scheme or will you face The End?]

Not only are the candidate choices limited to a pick of color, but, apparently, there is an inclusion about how the very US Constitution could be altered, like a sneaky clause by the line you sign on a contract with some evil entity after your soul. So, pick what party you favor…and decide your constitution’s fate, as well?

[This reminds me of something I experienced on a rare cruise I took. There was a certain expectation about tipping which was discussed prior to the trip, but there was, later, a mandated document that listed other expectations of tips. I didn’t have much choice but also didn’t have much money to just start passing around like I had a cigar in my mouth and a ten-gallon cowboy hat on my rich-Texan head. Suffice to say, I was a bit irate, not knowing the document mandate was going to appear in my room like a silent threat from the maid.]

I guess we have come to a time in history when voting is more hazardous than smoking and drinking and when both sides might be holding a gun to the head of the nation’s rulebook. That’s insane. So much talk about hacking and rigged elections; how does anyone feel sensible placing a vote? And, they have been doing far more pushing for multiple votes, too. Primaries used to be sort of slighted in favor of the final votes. But, now, they’re finding new ways to jab them at people and make threatening comments about the fate of the country.

[I feel like every vote includes the leader of some terrorist army talking in a monotone voice on TV; he’s making a mandate for all of the USA to hand over their assets unless they submit to a decision he is making. That or it’s John Cleese in the movie Rat Race, betting on what moves I make, along with a few dozen other wealthy jerks.]

So, there’s this question. If I don’t vote, what kind of citizen am I? And, if I do vote, am I just going along with a hazardous scheme, playing a tiny part in some madman’s game? Is voting now Jumanji or die?

Let me take a step back and talk about something I think is important for voting: being educated before you vote.

Well, only true extroverts like seeing politicians show up at their door (because they can’t get enough socializing). So, I guess politicians aren’t doing that as much as they used to, now that more people are turning introverted and anti-social, relying on radiating devices in their hands to do everything for them, which is why we are doing the crazy stuff like calling the devices smart and the voters stupid.

The internet is dismissed and questioned. Fake news is a popular term. You can’t trust the internet, they say. Well, if everyone’s being drawn to it like a bug to the flame, what sense does this make? It does not make sense.

Newspapers are now dinosaur fossils, not the flags people used to raise overhead and flash some headline about what’s happening in the world. [How many ancient photographs have I seen of people holding up newpapers to display big, bold era-shifting headlines?] Online newspapers are not papers…they’re ad-injected, seemingly limited pockets of cyberspace which cannot be held, folded or flapped and may require you to deal with cookies and pop-ups and frustrating searches to get the whole stories, which are not as satisfying as the old ones were (to me), even though I’m not much of a reader.

So, we’re not entertaining people at our door (while, instead, dealing with porch pirates–yar) and we’re glued to the internet but not believing what we supposedly need to read, instead mindlessly scrolling for bits of entertainment and trends to follow. Good talk. Communication fail. People stop socializing; that’s a good sign…not.

Celebrities are pitching everything under the sun, even when they seem to be sounding like they are supporting humankind. Nice try, artificially generated and highly filtered aging faces we know. But, I don’t think I’ve seen any celebrities (from movies and TV) pitching for political candidates…yet. I just hope we’re not voting for an AI or Amazon or Tesla or Disney or Mr. Monopoly takeover.

Now that you’re educated…sort of…you have to know where and how to vote. Unfortunately, this year, there’s added confusion to that little detail. They call it redistricting, or the new mapping of where certain residents must vote. So, imagine playing a game of Twister while trying to decide the fate of your government. Yep. Imagine going to vote and finding yourself at the wrong pit stop. Oops. Now, you’re out of time, too. Rats. And, you made these changes in an important election year. Way to go.

Will there be any confusion counting ballots? Of course there will. You made the process a three-ring circus, including a crass lion and a laughing (or waltzing) hyena. Spare me the daily reports of recounts and candidates arguing how the contest was hacked and/or rigged. Just blame Chad…not the country, that guy over there.

[I find myself drifting back to a previous election in which “chads” were all the rage for weeks upon weeks of news coverage. Those were the days…when I wanted to puke my guts out and scream at the stars.]

And, breathe.

Even if the system has been turned into a hot mess…and even if the impending decision seems easy, because Option T sounds more hazardous than Option K…I think voting has become a game of Three-Card Monty. You see two sides of the situation (and both are colored a certain way to evoke response rather than be absolutely honest and thorough), but there’s a third element you seem to perpetually miss which will take you by surprise once it’s in power. So, Option T puts on a good show to get you riled up, and Option K offers a fire extinguisher in your time of need. But, what about that card still sitting face-down?

As Sarah Connors had to cope, I am thinking I cannot change or impact the vote, even if I try. So, perhaps, no matter the decision, I just have to stay armed and ready to fight for myself, come what may (Moulin Rouge). You want my vote? Come and get me. I wouldn’t want to be guilty of voting for a nuclear bomb or “the machine.”

So…yea…I think the Mayans were right. The world DID end in 2012. At least, the world as I knew it. And, I’m not fine with that, REM. Population–BOOM!

08
Aug
24

Sometimes…Olympics Commentators Suck

****

I’m going to come right out and say it. Most of the commentators for the Paris 2024 Summer Olympics (and probably every other Olympics I have seen) suck. I’m speaking specifically about the “American” commentators, including those foreign accents who have found comfy seats among the American-English-speaking folks. [If you watch the Olympics in some other country and dislike your commentators, I’d be interested in hearing your story.] It doesn’t matter how velvety-smooth your voice is (I’m looking squarely at the stout, brown-skinned, bald man with glasses who is…everywhere…like a VISA credit card); you people cannot restrain yourselves enough to give your American athletes, your celebrities of choice, the very people you have to interview, more respect when they are in poor condition to respond.

Key words: in poor condition…and have to interview. We know you have to interview them because they’ve been advertised and sponsored better than cars in a NASCAR race or horses in the Kentucky Derby. But, interviewing someone when they are out of breath and probably don’t have enough oxygen in the brain to sensibly respond? That’s just dumb…and rude.

[And, flashing a pretty face while laughing does not excuse you, either, Miss Maria Taylor, miss late-night, golden-brown goddess, miss supermom. The laughter feels a little forced, canned, at times. But, you seem to have better luck with interviews, maybe because you get the night shift and “next day” moments and are not typically seen with athletes right after their events.]

If you DID have respect, you’d ask different questions and wait with them until the athletes can breathe easier. But, no, every damn interview has to include “What does this medal you just won mean to you and to your country?” [But, more importantly, your country.] And, you cannot wait to ask these stupid, repeating questions, as if someone is holding a gun to your head. [And, it’s not a starter pistol.]

The nerve you highly polished morons have to mistreat these fragile souls who risk their lives to get a medal for their countries. I’d like to put all of you through the paces and then jab a microphone and fifty cameras in YOUR faces. See how YOU feel in the hot seat.

In your haste, all you accomplish is getting the worst from your interviews. Sure, you probably curb some negativity, because the athletes are depleted. But, that’s also lucky and risky thinking. If I was in one of those interviews, gasping for air, dripping with sweat, I just might let a few words fly that wouldn’t sit well with broadcast TV. I might end up a news feed scandal for what I said. And, I’d have you careless jerks, with your pressed suits and bleached smiles, to thank for my scarring slip.

I have to wonder…do the athletes have the opportunity to refuse? Can they bypass the microphones and cameras waiting just a short distance from whatever they call a finish line in their event? Can they shake their heads and walk away, giving themselves time to regain strength and, maybe, tidy themselves before answering stupid, repetitive questions? If not, shame on the rules and/or customs of this venue. And, if the athletes repeatedly fall prey to the microphones, hoping they will be asked/told something reassuring just to hear the same tiresome, annoying dialogue they hear after every other “run” they take, that’s also very sad.

If you must talk to someone when they’re out of breath, try asking how good it feels to be done with the event. Ask something that helps relieve the athlete of their current exhaustion and/or distress. Offer some encouragement; say they are okay, now that the trial is over. Tell them to have some fun if they’re not required to compete again. Don’t give them some patriotic BS or expect them to wave the nation’s flag for you. And, give them a towel or water bottle!

Now, you might point out the interviews that take place some vague time after the events, when the athletes have had time to don fresh, dry, sometimes stylish clothes and groom their hair (if they have any). In those instances, sure, there is more respect. But, there is still the chance stupid questions will be asked. I think there is some dumb writer behind all of this who preps a carbon-copy list of questions some lousy high-school teacher would give his or her class. Every year, every group, the same questions get used.

The athletes seems more interested in how the medals contain bits of the Eiffel Tower, but you’d rather ask about patriotism. What do you THINK the medal means for their country?! It means a digit gets added to the damn medal count you can’t stop discussing!…as if medal counts mean everything or more than the bonding of nations. Good grief! The athletes offer you opportunities for unique discussions, and you throw recycled formal letters in their faces.

[‘No wonder interviews produce bile in throats, making those interviewed shift uneasily in their tiny, uncomfortable seats and roll their eyes. Yes, I said bile.]

I’m also extremely sick of the commentators who feel the need to judge every little move an athlete makes, down to the tenth of a point and the hundredth of a second. Let’s just say gymnastics is really, REALLY annoying to watch, in that way. I get excited watching a swimming relay; and then some technical jerk says the last swimmer for the team I favored lost by a hundredth of a second. I don’t want to hear that! What’s next? Losing by one thousandth of a second? Spare me. Spare the world that PTSD.

Imagine failing to get a good grade in school or get the approval of your boss at work because you were a hundredth of a second late with your work. It’s no wonder athletes become edgy, paranoid, egostical. I’d have a breakdown, too, if I heard three or more people moan about me missing out on a medal by such a small margin. Give them a break!

She came in fourth! Okay? That’s all you have to say. You can kiss the precision of your modern metering technology or make detailed notes in your meticulous journals when the microphones are off.

Then there’s the tendency for commentators to become drunk with crowd noise and fumble their way through commentary. Words spurt from their lips in the heat of the moment, skewing reality, not always making sense. I’d be the same way if I had to talk about gameplay while playing any game. Maybe that’s a sign; maybe we don’t need comments on every single move athletes make. We don’t need to talk about how that female athlete’s legs bend or how her lead would look even more impressive if you took away the hurdles…in a hurdle-leaping race. [What sense does that make?] If you take away the hurdles, it would certainly alter the results. You don’t need to make the leader of the race sound like a goddess. She’s still human. Egos get shattered every day in athletics. Occasionally, environmental factors interfere.

[Hey, why don’t you ask the AI you keep pitching and supporting to comment for you? Oops. There go your jobs, struck down by the Salesforce. ‘Not impressive. ‘Most non-triumphant.]

So, I’m telling all of you commentators to back off and “slow your roll.” I don’t care what financial pressure is on your back. You tell your bosses to back off, too. Show these laboring athletes more respect. Because, if you don’t, you can dig out your fat wallets and purses and pay the medical bills of the people you hurt with your impatience and carelessness…and those annoying repetitive questions! Athletes shouldn’t have to invest in bug repellant to get rid of mosquitoes like you. Lindsey Vonn shouldn’t be in commercials for sleep aids. [She should be soaking up the sun at some beach with me! Ha. The Password is…companionship.]

What about Colin Jost you say? Well, in short, I’m not a fan. I personally think he’s very self-centered and privileged. He won a lottery to sit (and stand) in Tahiti, where he makes light of everything and continues to seek the pity of women (and gay men), young and old, for his…mishaps. Sure, what he has to say is better than the repetitive and meticulous stuff other “pros” are saying, but that’s more sad than good. Give me a microphone, baggy shorts and some sandals; I’ll serve you similarly slick and more witty lines with a less polished image (I confess) and less focus on myself. I might know even less about events like surfing and do less research while humbly soaking up as much culture as I can. I’ll ask athletes questions that open up their hearts, make them laugh and dry their tears.

What about Snoop Dogg you say? Well, he sure got the golden ticket, the all-access pass. And, sure, he comes off as a nice, humble guy…in a way. But, the commentary that comes out of his mouth is sort of like the babbling you do when you’re in a dream. It doesn’t always make sense; so I can’t classify it as an interview or satisfying. It’s like watching a cook sample food someone else made during their cooking TV show; they can’t quite speak clearly with their mouth full of delight (if they aren’t lying through their wet lips). He just keeps vocalizing some sort of feeling about everything he has been so blessed to experience. The visuals he shares (with the cameras) are more pleasing than what he has to say. I’m honestly a little envious…until I see all of the other celebrities in attendance, and then I start to wonder exactly how much access has been given to wealthy and otherwise famous faces.

I feel like the 2024 Paris Olympics is a lavish party I failed to attend, and, even if I did attend, I wouldn’t be comfortable around so much wealth and fame. I’m not exactly the sort who gets excited about acquiring autographs and photos with people who don’t know me and don’t likely give a crap. This event is bigger than any Oscars or Emmys night, with more than one large building full of “big names.” I’ll just keep admiring the view of the Eiffel Tower from the beach-volleyball setting and forget what was bothering me for a while.

I’m Writingbolt. This isn’t my job. It’s a sort of habit.

Okay, judges. What’s my score? A 4.95 out of a possible 5? And, yet, I missed the podium by one hundredth of a point? I don’t get a medal? Well, @*$&* you. I didn’t really need a score or medal, anyway. If anyone’s looking for me, I’ll be at some Nice beachside cafe, listening to the surf and dousing my irritation in something saucy and sweet.

14
Mar
24

Forget the AWARDS, Award Shows.

****

After watching, with some reservations and, later, indigestion, the latest Oscars (award show), I have adjusted my POV on award shows, in general.

I know. I’ve said this how many times now. I tell myself “no” and still cave with that foolish whim, that hope, of seeing something or someone who becomes the focus of tomorrow’s “watercooler” gossip…or just seeing someone I personally like (or adore) get a chance to speak from the heart (not a teleprompter).

[On that note, when I saw Emma Stone crumble during her acceptance speech, a speech in which she spoke of children and her relationship, a speech I kinda hoped she’d interrupt to share her award with the Native-American woman people were making such a fuss about (if she deserved that respect and not just for being Native-American), I wanted to run up there and support her, massage her upper arms to warm her up a little. That’s the kind of man I am; that’s the sort of partner I’d want to be. I suppose that’s not allowed or proper in the eyes of the media/majority. I’m sure Security would have had none of that. But, Emma needed someone to steady her (and maybe fetch some lemon water for her throat).]

I noticed some effort into making commercials that are “cinematic,” ads which reflect movie-making in some way. It reminded me of why so many flock to the American Super Bowl; it’s no longer about the game. It’s about the ads. Well, if we are so destined to wash out all of the purpose for a program, why bother with the program, at all? Heck. Skip the Super Bowl; just give us the ads! A two-hour showcase of the best advertising money can buy! Right?

And, as for those award shows…ugh! So much “pomp and circumstance;” so much tuxedoes-for-men and excessive dressing for women, even when the dressing cannot adequately cover the woman in a respectful and/or tasteful manner. So much time wasted on cutting people off as they receive awards chosen by some secret society like the Illuminati. So many poorly chosen, highly bleached and waxed public speakers who must politely engage others being rewarded not so much for their individuality and talent but because they are of a particular nationality or sexual preference. And, all who are able to view this via TV begin to act like this is just one more thing to place in a betting pool; grab a score card and place your bets, fools.

Insanity.

[Oh, and it’s recommended, if you’re a woman, to get pregnant to give people something to discuss; it’s also a good cover for any awkward conversation. You can just excuse yourself because something is happening inside your body; or you can talk about the dress maker who accommodated your enormous pouch.]

Personally, I enjoy some, not all, of the “antics” that happen during the award shows. The rest feel so staged they make me ill. And, I’d say every show eventually irks me with some decision made. It’s inevitable. So, for me to watch another would be like agreeing to ingest poison just to be given an oxygen tank, so that I can keep breathing.

If we are being drawn in to enjoy the antics (and advertising), just make a show with all of that. Don’t waste time cutting people off to squeeze in every award and whatever monologue you feel the need to give about the orchestra, the judges and the secret society you never quite expose. You think airing the show an hour earlier makes a difference; it did not. Just take us viewers to the after parties and have everyone who got something give their speeches comfortably and with as much time as they feel is necessary. Let’s be better listeners and set the judging aside. Isn’t that what all the fuss about acceptance and awareness is for, anyway? Or, is all that racial and gender buzz just a mask you wear at your elitist party?…a show to raise charity money you then apply to tax evasion?

Nooo. Just sing your Ken song to promote sales. It has nothing to do with being accepted as a one-of-a-kind individual not tied to any agenda or dominating force. But, no Ken song can compete with a real bomb. You can ponder that while you worry about what you were made for and then take your after-party drug trip just to face the after-its-over period between jobs. Everyone in showbiz must be Robert Downey, Jr.; not just Robert Downey, Jr. The others just do a better job of hiding their failings and addictions.

If I become bitter against any “faction” of humanity, it is unlikely because I am gay-phobic or anti-Jew (because I am neither). It is more likely because someone in these factions is acting like a bull in a China shop or a Nazi leader, trying to start a stampede which will ultimately brush “ordinary” folks like me aside. It is because people judged me as gay for being an atypical boy (and because some gay men think I am and wish I was one of them). I will not be dismissed or ignored because I am not “woke,” rich by birth or part of some global movement for acceptance and awareness which could just as well be a cloak for something sinister. [When everyone currently “special” is in demand, people like me won’t even have a chance to get their foot in the door unless I sell my soul to the industry.]

I’m not so obtuse that I can’t read between the lines and see when people are being used as tools to “represent” instead of being respected for who they are as individuals.

[Hey! You’re both black and Hawaiian! Would you represent both and do every thing we tell you, to the letter, if we give you a microphone?! That’d be greeeeat. Did anyone else notice the Native-American “best actress” or any of the African-American male actors looking just a little uncomfortable when they were being spotlighted? How certain little presentations seemed formulated with generic words of respect and/or honor, rather than personal remarks from people who actually valued the people they were honoring?]

If we cater to the mindset of putting one TYPE ahead of another, no matter the type, we’re no better off than when “white supremacy” was normal and not hated or when women were nothing more than “housewives” too dumb to learn how a machine works.

And, I know “political humor” is all the rage because everyone who thinks they are funny cannot stop speaking ill of one leader and/or another. But, does it have to be a part of EVERY televised program? EVERY celebrity event? Haven’t ANY of you been bullied or verbally harassed in your lives? You have? Then why think you are above or just the victim of all of that…because you’re taunting someone over and over and over again, until you look like a bully. That’s not helping anyone; that’s “making America great, again,” as you like to repeat.

Do you want to help heal the world or just change the color of the hot mess still going around it?

You KNOW you’re just going to alienate or agitate someone (unless you are completely oblivious to your own antics and thus worthy of being labeled jerks on my most hated list); so why do it? Why resort to throwing rotten tomatoes? This is supposed to be a space and place of mutual acceptance, respect and honor. Not your late-night stand-up stage. We know who you are…sort of. We don’t need a reminder.

[Is this one of those Harry-Potter things, where we change the color of the dominating party because some odd wizard decides to hand out special points at the last minute? Well, today, the Native-Americans did something special…I don’t know what. Who decides these things, anyway? So we’re gonna display their flags…and piss on the flags of those who support that guy over there, the one with the bad wig.]

[Here’s something (else) you probably didn’t ponder. A joke was made about Miyazaki’s anime team not being present to accept their award for the film about a boy and a stork. Now, I know the host isn’t that quick with the wit to make such a joke on the fly; you can disagree, but this is how I see the guy. He’s not very fluid or spontaneous; he would not excel at improvisation. The joke had to be written before the show…which would mean that he knew the film would win…wouldn’t it? So, are some–if not all–winners made known to the writers of these events in advance?…including hosts who have to make jokes? Wouldn’t that make the whole opening of envelopes and surprising an audience kind of pointless? If just that one winner was known in advance, there was an award segment that could have been skipped on live television, giving more time to people who wished they had just a little more time and less reason to stress over a speech…considering so much attention is being given, lately, to when the whole show starts, ends and, as always, how long people are free to talk (which they never are…free to speak from their hearts and not under scrutiny for this or that from whoever pays them).]

In short, screw you, award shows; for you continue to be a cruel pea-and-shell game, a three-card-Monty that just ends in stomach upsets and drunken foolishness. All your expense and glamor is wasted, when a disaster film about a global horror gets the top honor for music in a year of artsy films. You sully all that is to be valued in cinema. You taint accomplishment and hard-work. You push your servants to the brink of death. It’s all pre-arranged for some secret purpose. Your televised spectacles are just a cheap illusion to potentially sway a few more merch’ sales. Go play with your elitist selves. I don’t need your poor movie choices to mess with my head nor the warped award and business decisions that follow. I know what deserve four stars, and it isn’t your opinions.

Sorry, Jimmy Kimmel. I had something to say about you, but we ran out of time, again.

[“I’m Just Ken,” rewritten with lyrics about myself, in the process of being posted…]

30
Nov
22

When Is Talking with Your Hands Okay?

****

I’m noticing people on TV, particularly the sports commentators for American football and the World Cup (at the moment), doing quite a bit of talking with their hands. You know what I mean? They cannot stand still and just voice their thoughts. They have to wave and swing their arms about as they speak loudly to the lights and cameras. …But, why?

I keep drifting back to things I’ve heard in the past.

When I was a kid, there was always some rule about when to speak, how to sit, stand, etc. And, more often than not, I was always in the wrong. Someone had to remind me. Someone had to put it to rhyme or in a “cleverly” coded PSA (public service announcement, like those ads for not smoking, not littering, drunk driving, etc.).

As an adult, “entering the workforce,” I was then told to “quiet” myself in interviews and whenever speaking with higher authorities. Don’t move any part of the body, maintain eye contact and speak with confidence. [As if.]

Why is it now seem okay if not encouraged for people on TV to talk with their bodies, especially their forearms? Why are people on camera so “loud?”

Some would say…what else are they going to do with themselves? They’re on camera. They have to be doing something…or they’d look stiff, just talking.

Others, with some knowledge of astrology, might wonder, like I do, if those people aren’t “Gemini-rising” types. I’ve read/heard a Gemini rising sign makes you want to talk with your hands (as well as act/be a performer). [I happen to have that rising sign. I cannot admit to being a very avid “hand talker.” But, yes, occasionally, my hands leap up when I talk…and it makes me very uncomfortable in job-interview situations. Are my hands talking? Am I being too “loud” or quiet? Bah!]

So, what is it, really? Tell me, ye who talks with your hands. Why do you do it? I must know. I must understand why some can be so “loud” with their hands and bodies when so many others have pressured me to “quiet” myself.

14
Sep
22

Married Good Looking, When Physical Attraction Is the Only Tie That Binds

***

How many of you know someone who is in a difficult marriage? When I say “difficult marriage,” I mean one that seems to be falling apart on all sides except one, physical attraction. This couple can barely tolerate each other. And, one half of the couple, typically the more attractive half, is really annoying to the other.

I’m just curious what kind of pie chart we might draw from this. I’ve seen a few couples who fit this description, and the fact really drives me mad. Marrying someone essentially because they’re very attractive (and apparently naive enough to not be “out of your league”); how does anyone think this is a good idea? Good looks cannot spare you from stomach upsets and tooth-grinding frustration. Good looks might lead to hot sex, but sex wanes with age. And, aging takes its toll on the physique. It’s a foolish investment; a leaky ship. Once that hot sex leads to two kids and a mortgage, you’re in over your head. Abandon ship? Good luck with that.

So, come on; fess up. How many couples do you know who fit this description?




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