Posts Tagged ‘racial

27
Nov
24

Representation Overkill Causes Nausea

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Concerns and Alerts and Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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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.

15
Nov
24

Now You Know; Yo Joebra (Post-Election 2024 Comics)

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Creations
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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After the bomb that recently dropped…and during the fallout that has followed…I have been looking for a way to keep a sense of humor, to get through the disaster I dread.  I know I said I was down and out of here.  Well, for those few who might care, you get one more slice of the Writingbolt pie.

Here you go.

GIJoe funnies…of a sort.  A few I think are golden.  Others are remotely painful.  Have at ’em.  [If you did not grow up watching this cartoon, some of this might go over your head.]  If anyone finds something wrong, illegal or otherwise inappropriate about any of these, well, look at the legal system and what’s happening.  Does it matter?  [I’d like to think it does.  But, the vote went another way.]

[I’m trying to add tags to my post, and they are vanishing as I type them.  What is going on?!]

votingplot-milliondollarbribe-elondestro-commandermusk-televiper-election2024-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-4votingbribe-alpine-muskmilliondollarloan-election2024-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-3usedmerchandise-sexualassault-baggagewarning-flint-baroness-election2024-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-9priorities-trump-musk-ladyjaye-baroness-cobracommander-election2024-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-11newabortionpolicy-babyslaveboom-election2024-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-7foolishamericanheroes-barflies-bazooka-alpine-quickkick-election2024-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-6baronesstrap-forcedpregnancy-abortionban-2025-GIJoecomics-ap-CSPP-1280x720-1

12
Apr
23

The New Mermaid Has Arrived, and I Need to Rant, Again

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Concerns and Alerts and Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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So, the live-action mixed-bag-of-updates otherwise known as the “re-imagined” version of The Little Mermaid has reached its debut. And, it’s stirring up on-going feelings of resentment. I am very aware of the on-going need for more ethnic diversity in stories and still fixed on the disappointing creativity and acceptance of authors who could craft, publish and produce those desired stories. Instead of writing new film scripts for new movies that feature all of the wonderful diverse people you may find in this world–and casting people fit for those roles (not casting someone from a different ethnicity or culture to play the part of someone from an entirely different nation/race/culture)–someone is twisting stories that have already found their way into hearts to suit a different audience. It’s an utter lack of respect to someone’s previous work and to the characters included in those works, not to mention all of the actors, both voice and visual, who previously played those parts.

Just imagine deciding the Mona Lisa is wrong for whatever damn reason and deciding to paint over it or dump the old one and replace her with a new face, someone more “woke” or PC, as if the Mona Lisa is some crime against nature. Or, what if we decide a song written and sung by an artist like Shakira has become dated and offensive in terms of lyrics; so we get some young, new talent to take a rewritten version and make that famous. Now, the new talent is the big seller, the flash-in-the-pan millionaire being talked up for her latest mansion purchase, and Shakira gets to sit in a dumpster wondering why she even bothered writing that song, if the world was just going to piss on her.

Where does the crime stop? When did respecting one’s creation lose its value? Even if the artist or the creation was deemed evil or vile by a unanimous global vote, what sense does it make to remake that horror under a new face and claim it’s suitable for the new era?

You might stop producing a certain brand name of syrup or oat-laden boxed mix because what was once a socially common choice of words is now impolite. You might keep the product line going because people still enjoy the taste or some other quality; just give it a different name and/or face. Sure. That might work. It might also bother the manufacturers a little; though, considering the age of the origins of that product, I’m sure the ownership has changed hands enough times that the old name doesn’t hold as much value or importance. Again, the name is a dated term which was and is somewhat agitating. I get it. I wouldn’t want to buy Pasty White Guy Syrup or Art Geek Oats, either…unless I was friends with a fellow art geek or pasty white guy who made the product, someone I respected and trusted with food.

But, as desperate as I might ever be to recreate something, I would not stoop so low as to turn a Caucasian mermaid African (or any hyphenated variation) and keep the name and hair color the same just to appeal to a different people. It’s…amateur. It’s no better than a fan making a home movie because they’re such big fans of the story. So, let the fans make their own home movies.

Or, can I ask someone to write a White Lightning script for me?…because I like Black Lightning; I just wish he was a white guy like me, so I could look up to myself in a different body and not just wish but believe I could be that hero. Or, keep it Black Lightning but make him a white guy with blond hair and blue eyes…because I feel slighted as a pale male individual.

You don’t make up for an era of crimes to humanity by remaking beloved and otherwise valuable works just to appeal to a new audience. If anyone tried to rewrite J. D. Salinger’s works, he would surely spring from the grave and set the world on fire like Adolph Hitler. And, I would likely side with his brigade because this remake crap has gone too far.

Get a fricken imagination! Stir those creative juices. Go vacation somewhere that isn’t a gratuitous pleasure cruise paid for by your family’s or corporation’s excessive wealth. Or, if you’re a poor writer being handed the task of rewriting something by a wealthy investor who just wants to see this happen…I know it sounds crazy to turn down a paycheck, you tool, but SAY NO! You’ll die a happier person than those who commit the crimes and spend the foul profits. Or, you can live the lives of the seedy and shady characters you hear about in…well, stories that have gotten old, I imagine; stories your ancestors probably wrote that are currently forgotten or dusty, already, while you look at some colored, over-produced Disney storybook from 200X and think about turning another cash cow into something new, already, when that’s not even considered old material to someone like me, someone who’s lived a little longer than those apparently in charge of…everything.

If this doesn’t get better, I fear every artist on this planet will dry up and die in misery because there will be no respect for the works of the deceased or the living. All creative work will be subject to the insecurity and threat of remake fever. All original thoughts will be at risk of erasure by popular vote.

Now, I was just about to say artists are generally not popular people when they’re alive…because, for the longest time, I’ve been hearing people say countless works are given ridiculously high prices/values after the artist dies. Most notably, Vincent Van Gogh struggled as a poor, lonely artist, a reject of his parents who obsessed about the son they already had and lost; his surviving brother (not the still-born one that the parents couldn’t let go in memory) tried to help him by selling some works and could do nothing to save the artist from going mad with a lousy roommate. And, years later, Van Gogh paintings are sought-after treasures tossed around like limited-edition trading cards or the possessions of the crucified Jesus Christ.

But, there are other artists who rose to high fame and some measure of wealth while they were alive…Norman Rockwell, for one. Now, there was an artist who found a niche, developed respect and a fan base which brought potential models to his doorstep, seeking immortality in one of his paintings.

Are there any artists like him around…now?

I hear crickets. I guess not. The closest I can come to a comparison might be the infamous “Banksy” who avoids public awareness in one way while achieving fame in another.

So, perhaps, with a lack of popular graphic artists and only some literary “talents” occupying the spotlight, the world is rather dry and dead, in terms of creativity.

But, that is still no excuse for what is happening with these recreations.

I’m just one lonely artistic voice in this big, messed up world. And, because I don’t shovel money into this blog space, my voice is even more muted. But, I state this here and now for whoever may happen to find it.

…..

Actually, I’m not even sure what to say because I have no idea or guarantee it will amount to anything or be respected.

How does one such as myself go on living with a sense of value or purpose? While the “popular” “trending” world is trying so hard to kiss the feet of those previously mistreated beyond repair and those not previously permitted into certain “Hollywood” circles, it is pissing all over those creative minds and bodies that came before them, disrespecting ancestors and de-valuing countless previous works just because you who have the power to produce for the public–to put things out there where the world can see them–cannot find an ounce of originality or let some other talent in to publicize their original works in a way that other giants, like Disney, have already done with their time in the sun.

This world is criminal. And, all the “amazing” talk that keeps getting pitched year after year after year by all of the famous faces who cannot look at anyone straight in the eye as they speak…is stomach-turning garbage. Television and movies are corrupting everything created, down to the basic value of the spoken and written languages. Pretty soon, nothing you can say or write will mean a thing…because someone will just as quickly alter your words, your intention and turn your own desires against you, simply because certain people have “sway” you do not possess.

If I am ever guilty of any crime in a court of law, I won’t likely sweat a drop of guilt or concern, anymore, because the atmosphere is already so vile that any crime I could ever commit doesn’t seem to matter. I’m still going to be small potatoes compared to the next person who does something far worse. There won’t be any fame in what I commit unless I blow up the whole planet and wipe out humankind. But, then, no one would be around to evaluate what I did. So, what would be the point? I don’t expect rave reviews from the cockroaches.

Respect the artists and drum up your own damn creativity.

Don’t rewrite history just to please your instant-gratifying impulses and excuse every damn foolish thing you dare to try.

And, if you absolutely must remake something, have the damn decency to leave the previous/original work as it was made. She could be some other mermaid in the same damn sea who didn’t have red hair but shared Triton as her father. But, if Mr. Banks was some woman’s precious father who didn’t have facial hair, don’t change the face that woman valued to fill a casual whim and your pockets with riches while selling her on a song. ‘Just plain wrong.

[Disney, you’re the biggest creative force on the planet, right now, the wealthiest and still growing the monopoly, consuming every archive of talent any other famous creator can no longer sustain, and you couldn’t look or be more pathetic. You’re the biggest pool of talent and also the biggest threat to creativity. You’re a glutton who can’t say no. You could have turned Stan Lee down and told him to hand the reins of Marvel to someone else. Why? Because you didn’t need Marvel. You don’t need the Muppets, Studio Ghibli or any other franchise, either. You don’t deserve the works of those talents because you don’t respect them, at all. You lead people to think you do because your real talent is in painting whimsical, musical advertising that seduces lazy viewers like the ancient sirens. You just take talents like some kids’ toys sold at a rummage sale and play with them as you will. You’re an excessively wealthy investor in prostitution and corrupt plastic surgery. And, because you’re so apparent and wealthy, others will fall in line with your ways, only making matters worse. No one can compete with you; so they bow and hands you their works, rather than waste all of their energy trying to get even a fraction of your spotlight. You are a troublesome trendsetter. A King Midas dealing in fools’ gold, seducing minds young and too old to care anymore. But, I’m a creative mind who still cares; and I think you are dangerous…greedy, careless and foul.]

17
Aug
22

The Wong Place and Time for Me to Care

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

****

So, I’m interested in the new (The) She-Hulk: Attorney at Law TV series. Suffice to say, the character is a bit of an obsession for me, even though certain artists have cast her as a rather…casually sexual explorer. But, I don’t expect much from what’s already a Disney disaster in the making.

[I mean…the lead actress had to alter her hair to match Mark’s (Bruce Banner/Hulk), when I just saw her with blonde hair, looking, actually, fit to play a blonde Jen Walters. She had the perfect ponytail to match the look of brown-haired Jen on some of the covers I’ve seen. Is it so wrong for a guy’s COUSIN to have different hair or even ethnicity? I have cousins with every color hair in the book; why can’t Jen have straight blonde hair even if Bruce has curly salt-and-pepper hair? The original “Savage” Jen had blonde hair (while Bruce had brown hair). That’s not a racial issue or even a question of family ties.]

[And, you know what Disney is likely to do to retain the interest of disenchanted fans? ‘Probably put out a ton of merchandising and ads for products like Tide detergent, featuring She-Hulk, just because they can afford to pump the masses and feed the landfills of the what’s-next, instant-gratification, never-satisfied-with-the-current-speed-only-because-advertising-says-so generation that’s taking control. And, if I crumble just to grab a She-Hulk T-shirt, coffee mug or figurine from the latest cattle trough, I deserve to die, not when I’m used up and a spotted prune but right here and now. Just get it over with, already. Hit me. If I see another “Funko Pop” with eerie, death-like button eyes, I’ll…well, I just won’t wasted my energy on a reaction. But, I’ll tear the place apart when I find them in the landfills…because that’s where all the “merch” is headed, until the planet can’t house or recycle anymore, and everyone who’s rich and privileged gets a one-way ticket to Mars.]

Let’s look at past “hits” from the latest Marvel-Disney releases.

Moon Knight? I watched a good chunk of it. It was more mad than good, overall. But, sure, good on Oscar Isaac for playing a crazy man so well. The villain role is well played, as well; actually the villain outshines the hero…or, heroes, considering we have to add an ethnic-representative and female hero (heroine) to the cast, these days. And, special effects?…spare no expense, par for the Disney Empire.

Wanda Vision? I enjoyed the timely TV settings and humorous touches. But, the story sort of turned into a bad cup of tea with a dark finish, supposedly prodding viewers to watch for a movie…which just happens to involve Dr. Strange and his persistent assistant, Wong. [Also, I am not a big fan of the casting for Wanda/the Scarlet Witch, nor the let’s-try-to-stay-original new costume design, when the 1980s comic-book version, which made an appearance in the mini-series as a “gag costume,” looked great.]

Loki? I liked the female Loki. I liked some of the other Loki variants, for as long as they lasted, just to appear as brief jokes or inspirations. The original Loki was…well, the same sort of guy he has been in all of his appearances, just handed a job and a shirt and too depressed to be wicked. I liked the suggestive secretiveness of the mini-series, the hints of things to come…yet, by the end of the first “season,” I felt more lost than entertained. I felt like I’d wasted my time.

I’m initially uneasy about casting for the new She-Hulk series. I heard one name I knew that I thought would be interesting to see…haven’t seen her in any of the ads run, so far. So, what happened there?

And, just recently, I see Wong, that ever-present sidekick of Dr. Strange, opening a portal to the series. Pardon my cursing (expletive…expletive…major, scorching, Mount-Olympus-sent expletive), but why does a show about Hulk’s cousin need to be linked to the “madness” of Dr. Strange? And, why do I get the feeling this is all building to some team-up movie with Dr. Sherlock Strange…or maybe just Wong…as the leading role? Heaven forbid Jen Walters/She-Hulk is reduced to a minor role in her first film appearance, like a Mantis or Nebula.

I know from recent comics (well, recent if we go back to 2008) that She-Hulk was doing more legal work than she’s ever done in her pre-2000 history (so many years being listed as a lawyer, rarely if ever appearing in a courtroom). I know she was handling cases for a wide variety of bizarre clients. But, there ARE other ways to get those clients than having some wizard-monk play special-delivery guy. Ya know, spaceships DO travel to Earth. Aliens DO open their own portals, as they did in the first Avengers film. And, gosh darn it, there are plenty of mad folks on She-Hulk’s home planet who provide clients from mad experiments gone wrong. She could use her powerful legs to get around, once in a while. Or, here’s a novel idea, hire a cab…board a plane.

Wong signed on with Tide detergent, and suddenly he’s a household name like Mr. Clean? I don’t wash my clothes with P and G. And, I don’t mix my laundry with Wong’s.

Clearly, I’m already tired of Wong. And, I haven’t even been bombarded with ads for his own feature movie/series, yet. I’m sure that’s on the way, along with more from the “Ten Rings” franchise (which didn’t impress me, much, either). [I can just see the writers clawing at their foreheads, right now, trying to develop a script that won’t be utter crap, pandering to the racial circus that’s still assembling.] It’s not a racial matter for me…though it’s clearly a racial matter for those who make movies in the Disney Empire. It’s a lacking interest in a particular character who’s being milked for his ethnic roots (meaning his physical appearance, not where he was born, necessarily). Heck, they turn the male mystical master into a pasty woman with an accent, and I’d rather watch more of her than Wong, and that’s just wrong.

So, if I see more of Wong, I’m going to tune out. I just am. Because I’m tired. I’m sure he’s a really nice guy and a loyal sidekick, for what that’s worth before some evil presence or broken promise turns another hero into a villain. But, I just don’t care about him that much; and you cannot make me.

Actually, you COULD have made me interested…if he had his own story/show WITHOUT invading the homes of every other character in the Marvel Universe. You might as well reboot Seinfeld and stick him and Cumberpatch in that. [You could do that, right, Disney? You have the resources. Just buy Jerry Seinfeld, like Baltic Avenue in Monopoly, and turn a DC/Superman fan into a Marvel-Disney minion. While you’re at it, buy Hulu; then you could bump off the second “U” to add or insert a “K” and call it the Hulk or Hulku channel, just to further promote your Hulk/She-Hulk programs. I mean, Hulu has a green logo; how perfect would that be for a Hulk channel?]

If you stuck She-Hulk in other Marvel series, I would complain less…much less if the appearance made sense and if I genuinely liked the actress playing her. But, she’s a character I’ve grown to like…like…a lot. It’s a fairly easy win (which I would not be surprised to see tossed in the dumpster by poor writing).

Instead, you slap Wong on everything as if he was (baby) Yoda or Harry Potter, and even they don’t cross over into anything else; they just gain popularity from their original, singular source. It reminds me of some old comic books in/on which ads would appear for other comics or toys I had little to no interest in owning. I sort of dismissed all of that as a kid, focusing on the pages that featured characters and artwork that meant something to me, as a budding artist. But, thinking back, it was just another phase of what’s happening now.

Comic books might have been magazines for kids, heaps of advertising injected with small stories about beloved (and some dreaded) characters, celebrities for those who don’t look at or care much about real, living people who somehow acquire fame and riches. All I cared about was the artwork, seeing characters I liked looking good and performing deeds I could respect, occasionally being witty. I didn’t need a cardboard airplane stamped with the face of Captain America, weight-lifting hoop dreams or a joy buzzer from some dial-up service offering novelty madness.

If I want to read a comic book about another character or group of characters, I’ll be drawn to its cover at the comic-book store. I’ll be seduced or excited by an artist’s creation and give it a try. I don’t need it thrown in my face while I’m currently interested in the story I just cradled in my delicate hands. That’s like pop-up ads on commonly viewed online “entertainment.” Except, the ads were on paper.

It’s one thing to insert an asterisk and a hint about a “crossover event” regarding another series (as the comics of my youth would often do to let me know the current story extends into another character’s series). It’s one thing to include something (new) of equal interest. But, when there is no relevant connection to the feature, or when the advertised content is stomach-turning, it’s just a senseless waste of space and my money…and time. You might gain a few new fans, but you might upset far more people who have no interest and don’t want that mess in their investments.

[Imagine picking up a Harry Potter book and finding three pages dedicated to cigarettes and/or a movie about a scary clown. Do you want that sitting on your library shelf? Do you want to pick up that old friend and revisit those horrors? Oh, it’s a wonderful story…and just ignore the dated ads in the middle.]

As soon as you tell me the story gets a mad, mind-bending twist and/or a “representing” character (or a “diverse” cast for the sake of being diverse, even when the original concept had no such diversity, not because the artist was racist but because those were the people they knew), I zone out like I did with Inception. Now and then, I just like a nice, straight-forward story to unfold; it begins, it ends…it sparks a sequel, a next chapter. It’s entertaining and makes me want to cherish the story (whether that is an original story or one that respectfully represents a previous work of art), not look online or at some salivating YouTube-er, who babbles on and on about what every little detail means and what I missed, for clarity.

My sister will likely sigh and say, “That’s just how things are, these days.” As if I’m supposed to just accept whatever is dumped on some “feed” for the masses to feed like mindless vegetables; get real (and not reality TV). Just suck it up, accept it and keep swallowing senseless crap. So what if every female character I grew up liking and every new one to spark my interest gets turned into a lesbian. Moo.

I will not be so naive or blind. Whether it’s a racial/LGBT drought or a racial/LGBT flood, it’s no good. And, not every ethnic actor needs to come with a damn British accent! Can’t you even get actors and actresses from the native lands you attempt to represent?…not southern California or South Africa or Wales or the British-dominated hunk of India.

‘You mess with the She-Hulk, you mess with me. But, then again, why bother getting upset? Maybe Sis is half-right. It’s just how things are going, after Stan Lee handed the keys of his bankrupted Porsche to Disney. He might as well have handed them to Google or Musk or Starbucks.

Fun-size everything and just about every glimmer of joy in the world is being downsized into oblivion and despair. You can’t even enjoy a popsicle from your youth, anymore, without being subject to shrinkage. It’s a depressing world, all around. Local news has boiled down to futile political disagreements over wealth and violent, death-dealing crimes. Reruns of shows long-ago departed quickly lose their charm…when you think about how much time you already spent watching them when they previously were reruns and before you invested in DVD collections.

So, why expect any genuine joy from a new TV series? Heck, when’s the last time I enjoyed a commercial break? I cannot even remember. Ads have gone to heck in a handbasket, too.

‘Sucks. Sorry, Jen. Maybe I just won’t look…then I won’t get disappointed. I’d rather forget you than watch you be mistreated. It was a good run, back in the Savage days, when your costume made itself iconic; though it made little sense, just like Bruce’s shorts…purple pants.

But, this…crisis…is bigger than Wong. And, he’s smaller than She-Hulk.

Whoever said all good things must come to an end is a jinx, a pox, a virus to us all, the ultimate Debbie Downer. There’s a prevailing evil force growing around the world, and there aren’t enough real heroes and heroines, it seems, to repel it. The evil isn’t racial/gender deprivation. It’s the twisting of truth (to get your own way) and what is sacred to artists, their original work and creativity. Books don’t translate into movies. Books get pushed to the publishers like cattle to the slaughter before they’re warped into movies that don’t match the text. And, I’ve already seen more books in the past decade than I’ve read in the rest of my lifetime; just about every single one contained some typo. How does that happen? How does a book that’s intended to be cherished and added to some bookworm’s favorites list permitted to slip by without proper editing and get stamped with that damn New-York-Times-bestseller label?

Joys of the past are being twisted and depleted. This affects everyone, not just a particular race or gender. That’s a major villain, people; though he doesn’t come with a particularly apparent costume.

We need more heroes and heroines, and I don’t mean costumed wanderers at some comic-book convention. Who’s with me? Avengers, assemble. [Why do I hear crickets?]

[I say that when I’m a total Tony Stark (minus the alcoholism, though I may have other budding addictions), who is not the best at joining/leading causes/teams, feeling more comfortable working solo though it sucks to be alone, after a while.]

28
Mar
22

Bitter Curtains; the Oscars 2022

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***

If I could sum up this year’s Oscars in two words, I’d call them

BITTER CURTAINS

There was a nagging unpleasant taste lingering throughout the…er…festivities. And, plenty of women were wearing heaps of fabric like walking CURTAINS. Black was a dominant color, but so was a bright, off-putting yellow. There was exactly one witty comment about the multitude of large dresses, and I cannot remember who said it. But, one young woman “on the red carpet” said the broad dresses were a form of social distancing, keeping others that specified number of feet away from those wearing the dresses. It was a Covid-19-crisis joke, and it was tasteful; amazing.

Beyonce opened the show with a blinding mob in that bright almost citrine yellow; and while she was clearly making a statement about black presence (at the awards), there were plenty of “white” people in her ensemble, including herself if I may be so frank. She has become so blonde and so pale over the years; and, in that piece, she looked like a white Barbie doll. The best part of the whole presentation was her Barbie earrings. The rest I question (including the exposed leg and glittering garter). Was the concept blacks and whites united (and look at my diamond marriage symbols; someone put a ring on it…er, me)? Or, was everyone in that performance supposed to be someone “of color?”

I tend to say trouble comes in/with threes. And, there were 3 female hosts. I expected something to go awry…and it did. But, while much of media focus is on Will and Jada Smith and Chris Rock, it seems no one is even remotely bothered by Regina Hall’s comment about Tammy Fay Baker. And, that bothers ME.

In case it slipped your filtered ears, Regina Hall, who I adore immensely and thought looked more classy than most women at the showing (eh-heh), came out dressed as Tammy Faye Bakker and said she always wanted to play “a crazy white woman.” And, a portion of the audience laughed. Now…with all the talk about so many “bio-pics” being considered for awards and other discussions, why would such a statement be acceptable? With all of the drive to celebrate diversity/inclusion and dismiss conflict, why would a somewhat harsh jab at a Caucasian woman be okay? Will Smith’s enduring wife gets a casual, minor poke at her shaved head, and that’s enough to create the focal point of the awards show. But, one of the female hosts makes a crack about a woman who was the subject matter of a heralded film, and no one does anything? No boos like Will received? Imagine if someone had made a joke about Ray Charles after the movie Ray took home an award or two. Imagine someone putting on big sunglasses and pretending to be blind. How would that fly? Not well, I’d think. I would definitely wince and have a bad taste in my mouth. Which is why I describe this episode in the ongoing series of excessive award presentations as BITTER.

Again, Regina, I adorrrre you. B-But…you also did that Covid-testing/single status bit that was in poor taste, as well! I know plenty are debating what’s safe to joke about…well, what’s not certain or safe. And, you took a chance. But, it wasn’t funny enough to be worthwhile. Bringing all of the feature male stars of current film buzz on stage as dating options while continuing to make filtering comments? Considering the lack of safety precautions at the ceremony, it was risky at best…at best it was risky. [My heart aches…for you.]

Amy Schumer? What a loveable marshmallow. That’s all I can say about her. While she’s been known to say some shocking things (including that bit about Jennifer Lawrence which might have been taken the wrong way if you didn’t know it was a pregnancy joke), she was restrained and extra cute this time. And, I loved it. It’s unfortunate she was the third wheel at a racially-charged spectacle. But, I moderately respect what she did.

It didn’t help seeing Chris Rock…at all. His first line about no one wearing masks…Seth Rogen already used that one at another award show. His whole bit was a pointless injection of black male humor to complement the black female hosts, a desperate hope of perking up the room…and it bombed. [Chris? I know that’s typical you. But, you should have seen this coming. Everyone should have and given you something else to do.]

What was up with the envelopes? At least half of the envelopes seemed to go unseen; there were odd, hasty cuts from nominee lists to the winners coming on stage. Yet, when I thought they were cutting out envelopes for time and/or less mingling of hands and germ concerns, there were envelopes! So, what was going?

There was that “big number” with the cast of Encanto, which cleverly transitioned from not talking about Bruno to celebrating Oscar and the inspiration for the statue. [And, I’d swear a very similar performance appeared in a previous award show. Am I wrong? Is this just deja vu?] But, I think I’ve heard enough about families having to replay kid-friendly movies and their songs over and over and over. It doesn’t help to reference it, one more time, and then indulge the groans with another replay.

The latest James-Bond song? Meh. Of course, it takes the award, and the brother-and-sister artists continue to get pushed up the pedestal of fame for whatever reason. [Remember what little eerie comment Will Smith said during his tearful speech.] I wasn’t impressed. In fact, when Billie said she and her brother had to write the song in the basement of their tour bus?…a tour bus has a basement?…I said, “Yep. And, it shows.” The song sounded like something you’d write in five minutes just to satisfy a commercial. It had a moody beat, trying to match up with Adele’s Skyfall. It had the title in the lyrics. I guess that’s enough. No further creative effort required. [Pathetic.]

Anything else that can be said about the latest award show has already been said.

How many times must we talk about the questionable, professionally made dresses worth more money than they can boast appeal? Of all the women I saw this round, that Ariana DeBose from the remake of West Side Story, with her vibrant red dress and sharp hair style, looked the best…except for the bra section. The bra section of her dress looked like the most minimal nipple caps one could find to cover a nude photo. It was tacky (as were the bra sections of most dresses seen, which isn’t anything new). But, 95 percent of her look…beyond fabulous; she was a fiery goddess. And, while there are those that dress up (Reba M. looking classy and full of fire), there are also the groan-worthy few who dress in some questionable way that gets polite media praise from some while I hold back the vomit. [Ehem. Kristen Stewart. I mean…not like I care or anything…dazed-eyes look away as fingers rake through my hair.]

So, how do we wrap this piece up? Awh. Who cares. By the next awards show, all of this will be a pointless blur. Let’s just evacuate the building, get to some noisy party and drink until we puke and forget why we dressed up for one more round of this superficial, secretly financial crap.

I was looking forward to skipping the whole spectacle, but NASCAR racing was delaying the cartoons I had hoped to watch. So, rather than watch reruns elsewhere, I endured this hot mess.

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14
Feb
22

Staging Super Bowl LVI in the Black

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****

I tell you this with nearly 100% certainty; Super Bowl LVI (56) was staged. Staged how you say? No, I am not referring to stages like the ones topped by those hip-hop “legends.” I mean staged as in the whole thing was a promotion and campaign for “Black Lives Matter” and the L.A. Rams. The Bengals were just guests in the arena, or, maybe, the lions in a three-ring circus. And, yet, this isn’t new. I think most of these big games are, somehow, staged and set in some team’s favor.

——————————————————–

By the way, the stages were cooler than the performances, in my opinion. The strongest component of the sampler, sadly, was Eminem, the only “white” guy in the group. His performance of that infamous song from his movie, 8 Mile, which I thought he had once said was part of an identity he was leaving behind, was perfectly paired with a rare opportunity for two football teams. In fact, that song might as well be a Super Bowl theme. But, I don’t think the parts about parenting and financial struggles are all that appropriate.

Not including Mary J. B., the other “talents” seemed ignorant and careless at a time when the world is being force-fed constant concern over a deadly virus. A club crowded with flaunting “hoes” and cloned men boxed together so tightly in an attempt to make a cool formation; not smart, right now. The desperation of wealthy extroverts is apparent…and apparently putting everyone at risk, making all those Jurassic Park and zombie apocalypse movies more of a reality; ‘spare no expense.

The lack of caution carried over into every interview before, during and after the game. Reporters standing very close to the players, staff, owners, whoever; it didn’t matter. No one cared; you’d think it was 1992 instead of 2022. The whole scene reminded me of the Heston classic, The Ten Commandments, when the naughty people partied and abused the most beautiful woman on holy ground. SOME people had masks but carried them on their chins; fewer folks actually had masks over their faces. If no one is reported sick in the following weeks, either a vaccine mandate worked (and everyone at the game got a temporary dose at just the right time, which seems miraculous and unlikely) or our fears are truly inflated and enflamed by television.

——————————————————–

When the Milwaukee Bucks won their recent basketball championship, they had an expensive “pad” already built at home, waiting to be put to good use. Had they lost the tournament, what would have happened to the posh estate? Oh, let’s not even dwell on the grim possibilities for the city…because they won! Right? It was in the bag! No. I think it was very secretly arranged…and staged. Oh, the wonders that mighty dollar can achieve…for a team that gave up its purple to look more green.

Now, the L.A. Rams host a Super Bowl in a newly furnished stadium, costing over five billion dollars…with the “man of the year,” Mr. Charity, on their team, given a spotlight…along with a few Hall-of-Fame legends who were the first black men to play football, also given a spotlight…and the families of those who no longer are able to play the sport, also given a spotlight…and a star defender seeking a coveted prize, given a spotlight and place on the team logo whenever NBC goes to commercial, while the Bengals flash images of their lean, rookie, WHITE quarterback…and you just try to tell me it wasn’t all staged. How could the Rams possibly lose? [But, if you saw some of the camera shots the Rams’ head coach received, you’d think he was rather nervous about losing…until it was in the bag.] It’s almost like the talk about China covering its back in the Winter Olympics by featuring the very people some voice concerns about sparing from further harm. If you doubt the Rams’ right to winning, just look at all of the money and perks put on the table for the world to respect. Throw in a few sad, abused animals seeking your monthly donation of twenty bucks, and the package would have been complete.

[Sadly, the team with the largest number of “black” players, during Black History Month, the Bengals, did not win…even after one dirty play that should have received a penalty. Well, I guess losing the game is a penalty. And, why is it every big game has to have that one dirty play that could spoil the whole victory? But, in this case, it didn’t spoil victory…for the team in the favored, heavily sponsored and recently furnished seat. Had the Bengals not made that foul play, could they have won? We’ll never know.]

Topping it all off, you get “the Rock,” Dwayne Johnson, to introduce the teams, wearing a shade of purple which looks closer to the Rams’ blue than the Bengals’ orange and giving greater emphasis in his voice when speaking of the former. [I detected the difference.] And, during the rather weak game which might as well have been played in a snowstorm (for the lack of points put on the board and the number of mishaps that occurred), we see both star quarterbacks fall to the ground, grabbing their “wounded” legs, making very painful faces…only to get back on their feet and play like pros a few minutes later. Hmm. What does that remind me of…oh…I know…WWE wrestling. Someone might as well have hit the quarterbacks with a “steel” chair. Puh-lease! Injured my foot. The only injured person was Odell B., Jr., who looked like he had been stripped of the right to play and his pride in favor of letting Kupp take all the glory…because…let’s be honest…the shaggy white guy got the job done in the end. Isn’t that just like Tom Brady and his pal “Gronk?” Oh, no, wait. It’s not; the Rams have Reggie White…I mean…Aaron Donald to praise, as well. Thank goodness it wasn’t just two white guys getting all of the credit…in a staged championship…where plenty of wealthy faces can be seen and share in the excess. No one can say an Aaron or a Donald failed to get the job done. [Is that going to rally Trump supporters?]

The best commercial–for Salesforce–was being aired days if not weeks before the Super Bowl; so I can’t include it in the lot of possible “hits” but give it credit…though I know nothing about Salesforce. And, the ad, as poetic as it is, doesn’t define the company, similar to most insurance commercials, in which we get an amusing scene but little to no content to justify an interest in investing in the companies. Plenty of good intentions but no clarity regarding how the company assures/provides them; I could just as easily say I am pro- every noble cause on the planet and then commit some scandalous crime with your financial contributions and labor, unseen, simply because I pleased you with my good intentions. Amusement does not equate personal security/safety.]

The Uber Don’t Eats ads made one thing rather clear. The company you trust to deliver good food today could easily send you something not good to eat tomorrow when they buy out some other company or dip their toes into other non-related businesses to boost profits (greed spawned from fading leadership/responsibility leaking opportunities to ambitious fiends). We need to be mindful of companies like Uber Eats and not just turn mild amusement into blind compliance and financial support. If we just laugh and use those “services,” we contribute to the next big monopoly to send people into space in rockets shaped like male genitals and replace human workers with robots until only a select few actually have the financial resources to enjoy life on this planet, while the rest crumble under the illusions of televised advertising and “fast” convenience.

I was surprised the Bengals even made it to the Super Bowl. How did that happen? Was that…arranged, too? Considering they were there in the year of the (Water) Tiger, in terms of Chinese astrology, how perfect would it have been for them to win the thing? But, as I’ve read about tiger years, you have to expect some shocking disappointments. And, this Super Bowl was one.

[And, the Bengals’ head coach? Don’t ever wear that black cap, again. That looked stupid. You could barely see the “B” because the whole thing was black! That’s not your team logo.]

Commentators; I’ll say it again; they suck. They predicted big things for the last game between the Green Bay Packers and San Francisco 49ers. But, they didn’t have a clue about snowy weather in the Midwest. Point predictions were WAY off. Now, being closer to their own homes, they simply predicted the Rams as the winners, no point spreads given (unless you count that confusing talk about betting pools and who got what square). Well, one chose to back the Bengals, but he looked like the sad, odd white loser in the group, anyway.

And, who needs someone pointing out statistics like the odds of winning a coin toss and losing the big game. Why do we bother watching if we predict the winner from the coin toss?! Who won the toss? Oh. Okay. Game over. Pay up. We don’t need to sit through all of this. Let’s go hit the club and spread germs, instead. I’d rather party with Charlize Theron and Jennifer Lopez.

I chose to back the Bengals for a number of reasons, one being I like tigers and thought it was cool how the quarterback came from a town called Athens (being I’m a fan of Greek mythology and, particularly, the goddess Athena who won a contest to claim rights to Athens, Greece). But, I guess, none of that matters in a contest of riches and racial exhibition. You’ll never see me sport a set of Rams horns (at least, not yellow and blue). You’ll beat them, next time, Bengals. Just don’t spoil my support.

11
Feb
21

So Much for Super Bowls…*hiccup!*

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*****

Did I miss the latest Super Bowl?  When was that?  February 7th?  Sunday?  Oh darn.

Actually, I watched most of it.  I just wish I had missed the game…because I swear I knew how it would go.  I swear I relived the horrible thing that it was, except I don’t remember the commercials.  I just remember hating Tom Brady and his lot.  But, I remember him in Patriot attire, not Buccaneer.

The GOAT they call him.  HA!  Yea, he’s a goat, all right.  A goat that consumes his weight in water every day, or so I’ve heard.  Shouldn’t that make him the CAMEL?  The Careless Arsehole Making…Entertainment…Lousy?  It’s a work in progress.  I’ll hopefully get back to you on that one.  [I’m open to suggestions.]

I am just SO glad the commentators mentioned the nagging referees.  I am betting Brady’s company had a hand in that.  Sure.  On top of all the other scandals attached to his success, now we load up some refs with money and charm stuffed in their pockets.  Brady was first on the field that day; want to bet he made contact with the first-ever female ref?  I would not be surprised.  Put in a good word for me.  Wink.  Thanks, sweetheart.  Giselle means nothing.

Why did it seem like the Chiefs’ offensive line was crumbling around Mahomes and his bad toe/foot?  ‘Because they were afraid of being penalized for HOLDING.  Too often, the Chiefs were getting holding penalties.  And, in one instance, one Chief brushes against Brady while saying something.  And, that was inappropriate conduct.  Brady is even caught smirking, gloating in response to the penalty call.

At the start of the game, the commentators were in favor of the Chiefs winning.  By the end of the game, they were praising Brady, claiming he “did his thing.”  I am confused.  Back in the day, Brady’s thing was stellar quarterback skill.  At least, I thought it was.  I thought he was just so good that I had to admire AND hate him; that he rivaled Brett Favre and Joe Montana.  Now, is it fraud?  Is his skill swindling authorities to get his way?  He didn’t subscribe to advertising like so many other players.  [How many commercials featured Chiefs players and/or Packers’ Aaron Rodgers?  Were there Brady ads shown exclusively in Florida?]

As far as I could tell, Brady only benefitted from the excessive discipline of referees, aka penalties.  He didn’t even break a sweat!…in Florida!  He just walked down the field and planted the ball in hand-picked hands that didn’t have to spike it.  The whole experience was like watching a monopoly buy out some small store/company.  Congrats.  Now, Bob’s Search Engine is a Koogle-head and being turned into a grocery store chain for Biff Jezos.

And if the painful ending wasn’t bad enough…

  1. Lacking commercials.  Advertising was definitely missing something…like alcohol.  Even the ever-horse-trotting Budweiser was amiss with some hints at a non-alcoholic beverage I never saw clearly.  That wasn’t even a commercial!  It was a magazine clipping they kept showing on TV.  Half of the commercials were for local broadcasting TV shows.  Doritos and M&Ms were the highlights, and even they were lost in a boring sea.  Jason Alexander was fishing for a show about nothing, reminiscing about his sweater days with a chocolate-sauce stain.  And, there were SO many pitches for African-American awareness…claiming Patrick Mahomes (I had no idea) was also “black”…on a night when the whitest guys in the place took all the joy out of the stadium……  [To be continued]
  2. Victory parade madness.  ……[continued]….and threw the Lombardi trophy over open waters, while drunk, like it didn’t even matter, like it was some souvenir football tossed into the crowd.  I don’t even want to know why that happened.  I care but don’t want to know.  It’s just nuts.  It’s stupid.  It’s careless.  Which brings me back to my point about the CAMEL.  So much for all that noble talk about teamwork and good sportsmanship.  Bull-diddly-shat.

Yep.  That about sums it up.  ‘Not even 3 points to give.  ‘Not even a field goal.  ‘Because it wasn’t worth all the effort or spectacle.  It wasn’t worth the risk to everyone’s health/safety.  It wasn’t worth Black History Month and all the other merits achieved by those involved.  It was a lame joke and cruel punishment to Patrick Mahomes and his team.  Granted, if Mahomes knew he had that bad foot, he probably should not have been playing…but you know how people can pressure you to take risks.

[‘Which leads me back to the game between the Packers and Buccaneers, the one that gave Brady’s hand-picked victory-ensured team (of two) the open door to score another lame ring and grand (but not valued) trophy.   There were numerous opportunities when Rodgers could have run with the ball to aid his team.  But, he did not run for fear of more injuries, like his previous collar-bone, hand and leg fractures.  He was scared stiff.  Thankfully…or luckily?…that was not Brady’s fault.  Had I been battered like Rodgers, I might have been apprehensive, too.  But, where’s that cushy insurance package he’s always pitching?  Where’s his good neighbor?  I guess that’s bogus, too, Drake.]

The BEST part of Super Bowl 2021?  Surprisingly, that was the halftime show with The Weekend.  I am hardly a fan of the guy.  I amazingly recognized a few of the songs.  I thought he did a stellar job of working the entire field and light shows.  The countless characters wearing real-estate-grunt suits and facial underwear were a bit unsettling.  But, the whole worked rather well.  No fear of audience interfer–

Oh, wait.  There was that one streaker who put everyone at risk at the riskiest of times.  [I wonder how that impacted the “social-distancing” crisis.]

What was I talking about?  Never mind.  It probably wasn’t important.

Hey, you, reader!  Go long!  I’ll toss you my priceless trophy like a football!…like a football.

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