Almost five years ago, Apple ran a campaign of "Switcher" commercials, with supposed real-life stories of people who had bad experiences with Windows and switched to using Macs. The most famous of these featured then 14-year old Ellen Feiss, the "stoned" girl in my icon. Feiss was a friend of the commercial producer's son, and was thrust in front of the camera at the last moment while she was visiting his house. According to Feiss, she was tired from school and had taken a lot of allergy medication. Because of her red eyes and loopy mannerisms, viewers suspected she might have been on something stronger than Benadryl.
Now in college, a Mac publication tracked her down and got her to give an interview, in which she swears that she was in fact sober that day (although she has used pot since then), that her story of losing her term paper on a PC was real, and that she's still using the same Mac she had back then today.
Feiss goes to to explain how Apple was so concerned that people might identify them with drug use based on her appearance (the preferred platform for musicians and artists associated with drug use?!) that they approached her and asked that she refrain from doing any publicity or further acting, and that she please fade quietly into obscurity. Feiss credits creepy obsessed internet fans with keeping her in the limelight. One movie producer tricked her high school into giving her home phone number to him, so he could recruit her for his film about shroom-trippers vacationing in France.
Although her reasoning for doing the interview was to put to rest rumors about her drug use, now that her fellow students have Googled her and discovered her past, her answers to questions about her personal life have sparked a new controversy about whether she is in fact a lesbian or not. Her creepy basement-lurking fanbase is appalled at the thought that, now a hot legal redhead coed, she won't run away with them now simply because she may prefer to chew the shag carpeting.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Grasping the Obvious
Having failed to pay a $208 bill on her storage unit, Paris Hilton's belongings in it were auctioned off and fell into the hands of infamous celeb sex tape collector David Hans Schmidt, who immediately put them up on the internet to view for a fee. Schmidt is the man you have to thank for the release of Screech's Dirty Sanchez movie.
Of course, only one person has to pay the fee, see the content, steal the content, and repost it. Thank you, anonymous Good Samaritan.
Among the items now available for public viewing are medical records detailing miscarriages and herpes treatments, numerous collages of herself she crafted from tabloid photos, fake ID's from Ohio identifying her as "Amber Taylor" and "Superstar," diaries of her booze and pot hallucinations, and porn videos filmed by the creator of Girls Gone Wild. In one, she declares herself, "the hottest person alive."
And Pauly Shore's cell phone number scrawled on a dirty napkin?!
Oh, Paris.
Well, I guess that's it. Now my eyes are open. You really are a Britney-class skank, and not the sweet, innocent, herpes-free virgin I thought I knew. That's why I have no other choice but to take down my website, ParisIsntASkankySlutAssHoBag.com. All these years I convinced myself that it was someone else in that grainy, night-vision footage, wasted! My sympathy for her in her feud against Tara Reid? Completely obliterated by the new video of the two of them snorting coke of a fat guy's belly! I'm beginning to suspect that her feud with Nicole Richie was faked for publicity too!
Oh well. For the time being, I can keep up my other site, MotherTeresaIsntASkankySlutAssHoBag.org, unless there's something I haven't been told yet.
Of course, only one person has to pay the fee, see the content, steal the content, and repost it. Thank you, anonymous Good Samaritan.
Among the items now available for public viewing are medical records detailing miscarriages and herpes treatments, numerous collages of herself she crafted from tabloid photos, fake ID's from Ohio identifying her as "Amber Taylor" and "Superstar," diaries of her booze and pot hallucinations, and porn videos filmed by the creator of Girls Gone Wild. In one, she declares herself, "the hottest person alive."
And Pauly Shore's cell phone number scrawled on a dirty napkin?!
Oh, Paris.
Well, I guess that's it. Now my eyes are open. You really are a Britney-class skank, and not the sweet, innocent, herpes-free virgin I thought I knew. That's why I have no other choice but to take down my website, ParisIsntASkankySlutAssHoBag.com. All these years I convinced myself that it was someone else in that grainy, night-vision footage, wasted! My sympathy for her in her feud against Tara Reid? Completely obliterated by the new video of the two of them snorting coke of a fat guy's belly! I'm beginning to suspect that her feud with Nicole Richie was faked for publicity too!
Oh well. For the time being, I can keep up my other site, MotherTeresaIsntASkankySlutAssHoBag.org, unless there's something I haven't been told yet.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The Ghost of Popcorn Past
WHAT THE BUTTERY FUCK IS UP WITH THE REANIMATED CORPSE OF ORVILLE REDENBACHER?!
At first they were content with doctoring his old commercials to change the product packaging, but now I swear they're cutting his face out and pasting it onto some sort of unholy CGI Jar-Jar thing and making him listen to iPods and dance around. Except it doesn't work right, so it looks like he's stretched out taut on a mesh skeleton, and his forehead is going to split open if he doesn't come through the TV and disembowel you first.
Who are the ad wizards who came up with this one?!
He's disturbing! I don't want to buy popcorn from him, I want to run screaming, grab a shotgun, and shoot him in his zombie face before he eats my brains! Why are they doing this to poor Orville Deadenbacher? Oh, the humanity. Oh, the popcornity!
At first they were content with doctoring his old commercials to change the product packaging, but now I swear they're cutting his face out and pasting it onto some sort of unholy CGI Jar-Jar thing and making him listen to iPods and dance around. Except it doesn't work right, so it looks like he's stretched out taut on a mesh skeleton, and his forehead is going to split open if he doesn't come through the TV and disembowel you first.
Who are the ad wizards who came up with this one?!
He's disturbing! I don't want to buy popcorn from him, I want to run screaming, grab a shotgun, and shoot him in his zombie face before he eats my brains! Why are they doing this to poor Orville Deadenbacher? Oh, the humanity. Oh, the popcornity!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Cirque du Blasé
Another day, another Cirque show. This was "O", our fifth Cirque production if you count "La Nouba" from our honeymoon. The rest we've seen here in Vegas.
I'm getting really jaded about these shows. People on fire, million-gallon water tanks with moving platforms, death-defying acrobats. None of it fazes me now. I was incredibly bored through the whole thing, and wishing I had a bingo card to check off all of the rote Cirque trademarks. Annoying mime pre-show, check. Black guy sent out alone to stomp the yard for ten minutes while sets change, check. Planted "audience members" invited onstage and turning out to be acrobats, check. Do we have any takers for people riding on enormous animal-shaped head floats? How about people whose sole job in the show is to lurch around slowly and vogue? Yes, and yes!
Yawn.
I needed "French-Canadian performer asks audience member to remove lid from jar of rainbows" to get bingo, and I almost had it, since there was a book called "Colors on Parade" in the gift shop that was full of wacky tightrope walkers playing with rainbows. Whimsical! Less so was the book on the Cirque du Soleil method of achieving proactivity in business, or some such cheese-moving executive inspirational nonsense. I guess after $15 mugs, $12 programs, $24 soundtrack CD's, and $50 T-shirts, their paradigm was the last thing left to sell. Except maybe the little Asian gymnasts, but you have to remember to put air-holes in the box and never feed them after midnight.
Do you think I'd really get in trouble if I punched one of the mimes? If so, how much? It might be worth it.
I'm getting really jaded about these shows. People on fire, million-gallon water tanks with moving platforms, death-defying acrobats. None of it fazes me now. I was incredibly bored through the whole thing, and wishing I had a bingo card to check off all of the rote Cirque trademarks. Annoying mime pre-show, check. Black guy sent out alone to stomp the yard for ten minutes while sets change, check. Planted "audience members" invited onstage and turning out to be acrobats, check. Do we have any takers for people riding on enormous animal-shaped head floats? How about people whose sole job in the show is to lurch around slowly and vogue? Yes, and yes!
Yawn.
I needed "French-Canadian performer asks audience member to remove lid from jar of rainbows" to get bingo, and I almost had it, since there was a book called "Colors on Parade" in the gift shop that was full of wacky tightrope walkers playing with rainbows. Whimsical! Less so was the book on the Cirque du Soleil method of achieving proactivity in business, or some such cheese-moving executive inspirational nonsense. I guess after $15 mugs, $12 programs, $24 soundtrack CD's, and $50 T-shirts, their paradigm was the last thing left to sell. Except maybe the little Asian gymnasts, but you have to remember to put air-holes in the box and never feed them after midnight.
Do you think I'd really get in trouble if I punched one of the mimes? If so, how much? It might be worth it.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
As Seen on Billboards
This being a city with no advertising restrictions or zoning laws, you get a lot of interesting things plastered on large signs everywhere you look. Nevermind the terror of giant Alan Thickes telling me where to buy timeshares, or close-ups of womens' asses promoting strip clubs. Those at least make sense to me. These do not...
First up, one for Peep One Erotic Drink. What makes it erotic? Let's ask the poorly-translated website!
"The drink innovation peep one represents a novelty on the market. Otherwise, there is no equivalent drink neither in direction nor in product quality. peep one is clearly differentiated from the traditional Energy drinks on account of his effect, contents cloths and the product statement."
"It closes a gap at the market concerning the combination of eroticizing and beverage innovations stimulating at the same time. The stimulating effect is to be divined during the first odour test already. Odour is harmonious, combined without blemish tones and synthetic taste analogies with purely natural associations. Through the balanced game of acid and sweetness, the request for further pleasure grows up very fast."
Now we know. Are you turned on yet? Apparently it contains New Zealand stag horn. "The New Zealand stag horn which is employed in peep one the natives ascribe a strong positive effect, potence increasing clearly and stimulating sexually." I, for one, am shocked they've managed to find an ingredient scarier than anything in Mountain Dew.
Another billboard was for La Preciosa, a Mexican radio station here in town. Click on the link and check out their Flash banner at the top of the page. See the mustachioed guy in the bullfighter costume? He features prominently on their multiple billboards throughout the city. Can anyone familiar with Hispanic culture answer me this? Is he a major player in the Latin community, their equivalent of say, Madonna or K-Fed? Do people cling to his every sombreroed adventure, and do the matador suit and mustache speak volumes about his masculinity and rugged virility? Somebody, fill me in!
First up, one for Peep One Erotic Drink. What makes it erotic? Let's ask the poorly-translated website!
"The drink innovation peep one represents a novelty on the market. Otherwise, there is no equivalent drink neither in direction nor in product quality. peep one is clearly differentiated from the traditional Energy drinks on account of his effect, contents cloths and the product statement."
"It closes a gap at the market concerning the combination of eroticizing and beverage innovations stimulating at the same time. The stimulating effect is to be divined during the first odour test already. Odour is harmonious, combined without blemish tones and synthetic taste analogies with purely natural associations. Through the balanced game of acid and sweetness, the request for further pleasure grows up very fast."
Now we know. Are you turned on yet? Apparently it contains New Zealand stag horn. "The New Zealand stag horn which is employed in peep one the natives ascribe a strong positive effect, potence increasing clearly and stimulating sexually." I, for one, am shocked they've managed to find an ingredient scarier than anything in Mountain Dew.
Another billboard was for La Preciosa, a Mexican radio station here in town. Click on the link and check out their Flash banner at the top of the page. See the mustachioed guy in the bullfighter costume? He features prominently on their multiple billboards throughout the city. Can anyone familiar with Hispanic culture answer me this? Is he a major player in the Latin community, their equivalent of say, Madonna or K-Fed? Do people cling to his every sombreroed adventure, and do the matador suit and mustache speak volumes about his masculinity and rugged virility? Somebody, fill me in!
Friday, January 5, 2007
Unmatched
Match.com is running a commercial promising that if you don't find a match within six months, they'll give you six months free.
Wait a minute. You just wasted half a year trying to find a mate on there, and failed miserably. The last thing on earth you need is to spend another six months sitting in front of your computer and weeping because every guy you find is sexually attracted to elves. Why the hell would you want to endure that, when virtually any other avenue (singles bar, church mixer, flashing a hobo) would surely prove more fruitful in that case? So you can ring in a new year after that knowing that for all of 2007, even prisoners were getting more action than you? After all, it's shower time at least once a day in jail.
Wait a minute. You just wasted half a year trying to find a mate on there, and failed miserably. The last thing on earth you need is to spend another six months sitting in front of your computer and weeping because every guy you find is sexually attracted to elves. Why the hell would you want to endure that, when virtually any other avenue (singles bar, church mixer, flashing a hobo) would surely prove more fruitful in that case? So you can ring in a new year after that knowing that for all of 2007, even prisoners were getting more action than you? After all, it's shower time at least once a day in jail.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Jakers!
In the process of once again revamping and recasting the ill-fated Goodnight Show, Sprout has imported a new batch of children's shows from the UK.
One of these is Jakers! The Adventures of Piggley Winks. We caught a snippet of this in a hotel in London when we visited a couple years ago, and I knew even then that, as British childrens' television programming, it was destined to wind up on public television here in America eventually when the Teletubbies jumped the shark. And now, that time has come.
Jakers! (an exclamation I must manage to work into my everyday speech more often) is about the now-elderly Piggley Winks, and his tendency to narrate the events of his Irish childhood to his grandkids in neat twenty-minute blocks. He spent his childhood in the company of a cow and a duck, who, much like himself, walked upright and spoke English with an Irish accent.
Okay, so far, so good. But then this anthropomorphic fun takes a turn towards the bizarre.
Piggley's best friend is a cow, Fernando Toro. Fernando is male, but referred to as a cow. His father is a male and a bull, who also stands upright and speaks English. But the Toro family also keeps cows, who act like real cows and moo and walk on four legs!
Piggley's family keeps sheep. The sheep, when out of Piggley's view, speak English and walk upright, living out their own subplots until Piggley arrives on the scene again, at which point they behave like regular sheep again. The sheep's leader, Wiley, is voiced by Mel Brooks, because he was available.
Of course, one good reason an Irish farm family in the 1950's would be keeping sheep would be for meat. So the pigs are likely slaughtering animals just as intelligent as they are, merely because the sheep don't want to reveal that they're really living secret lives of excitement while the pigs are out of sight. If you ask me, the sheep need to think things over a bit.
But my real concern in poor Fernando. While I applaud his liberation from traditional gender roles, I can't help but worry that the guy is seriously messed up as an adult by the whole cannibalism thing his family had going on back in the day. Shemale Fernando, a disappointment to his hypermasculine blacksmith father, is forced to chow down every night on potential members of his own family! How messed up is that?! Does he drink milk? Does he drink it from his mom, his slave-cows, or even himself?!
Piggley as a child was reasonably well-adjusted, and yet now spends his time exaggerating boring anecdotes until his grandkids try to put him in a home. What has become of poor Fernando fifty years out? Is he wearing the leather skins of his victims and carving up hookers in Whitechapel?
Run, Piggley, run!
One of these is Jakers! The Adventures of Piggley Winks. We caught a snippet of this in a hotel in London when we visited a couple years ago, and I knew even then that, as British childrens' television programming, it was destined to wind up on public television here in America eventually when the Teletubbies jumped the shark. And now, that time has come.
Jakers! (an exclamation I must manage to work into my everyday speech more often) is about the now-elderly Piggley Winks, and his tendency to narrate the events of his Irish childhood to his grandkids in neat twenty-minute blocks. He spent his childhood in the company of a cow and a duck, who, much like himself, walked upright and spoke English with an Irish accent.
Okay, so far, so good. But then this anthropomorphic fun takes a turn towards the bizarre.
Piggley's best friend is a cow, Fernando Toro. Fernando is male, but referred to as a cow. His father is a male and a bull, who also stands upright and speaks English. But the Toro family also keeps cows, who act like real cows and moo and walk on four legs!
Piggley's family keeps sheep. The sheep, when out of Piggley's view, speak English and walk upright, living out their own subplots until Piggley arrives on the scene again, at which point they behave like regular sheep again. The sheep's leader, Wiley, is voiced by Mel Brooks, because he was available.
Of course, one good reason an Irish farm family in the 1950's would be keeping sheep would be for meat. So the pigs are likely slaughtering animals just as intelligent as they are, merely because the sheep don't want to reveal that they're really living secret lives of excitement while the pigs are out of sight. If you ask me, the sheep need to think things over a bit.
But my real concern in poor Fernando. While I applaud his liberation from traditional gender roles, I can't help but worry that the guy is seriously messed up as an adult by the whole cannibalism thing his family had going on back in the day. Shemale Fernando, a disappointment to his hypermasculine blacksmith father, is forced to chow down every night on potential members of his own family! How messed up is that?! Does he drink milk? Does he drink it from his mom, his slave-cows, or even himself?!
Piggley as a child was reasonably well-adjusted, and yet now spends his time exaggerating boring anecdotes until his grandkids try to put him in a home. What has become of poor Fernando fifty years out? Is he wearing the leather skins of his victims and carving up hookers in Whitechapel?
Run, Piggley, run!
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