Witz DOESN'T Pick: Suffix-Gate

I've freakin' had it with the "-gates." One time, 30+ years ago, there was a scandal involving The Watergate Hotel and now every single goddamn could be scandal is referred to as a gate? It doesn't make any sense and it's finally broken me. I am a broken man. This is Suffix Gate.

I finally hit my breaking point yesterday when I saw more footage about Barack Obama NOT wearing a lapel pin American Flag. Ignoring all of the absolute insanity involved in anybody CARING, NOTICING, or DISCUSSING this (and it's really really hard to do that), I will go straight to the part where one awful news channel half-jokingly referred to the incident as Lapel-Gate. DIE. Immediately. Oh, sorry, not you reader, just anyone who has referred to anything as Gate since 1980. You see, a quick look at the wikipedia, the Yes Man of collective knowledge, told me that, "Since the Watergate scandal, the media has on occasion referred to social or political scandals by adding the suffix '-gate' to one of the key words used to describe the scandal. This new label has sometimes stuck but often a new name is used. The process is known as -gate construction." Ok, that's understating it. Here's where everything goes horribly wrong.

"The first such naming after "Watergate" was the French 'Winegate'. 'Wine' being similar to 'water' in composition, it was an easy pun to make. But this set a structural precedent in time for'Koreagate'." AHHHHHH. If you aren't laughing or shouting right now, something's not right with you (or, conversely, not right with me). KOREAGATE? See how we let the media get away with things. The whole "gate" reference, inside-joke, easy way out thing should have gotten old DIRECTLY after WINEGATE. Water/wine. Ok. KOREA? NOT SO MUCH. And that's where we let it get out of control.

Fajita-Gate occurred in 2002 in SF when policemen fought civilians over a bag of drugs that turned out to be Fajitas. The Iran-Contra Scandal was, apparently, at least once, referred to as Iran-Gate. Janet Jackson's breast was Nipple-Gate, Ashlee Simpson's lip syncing on SNL was Ashlee-Gate, and Monica-Gate was the Bill Clinton fiasco. IT HAS GONE TOO FAR. I no longer care if people are half-joking when they refer to these things if the name sticks. Lapel-Gate is going to be repeated through the media. I will hear it again somehow and I will go nuts. We have given meaning to a part of a word that never ever had that meaning to begin with, nor did it really acquire it. It really WAS CALLED The WaterGATE Hotel. They didn't cleverly add that in post-production. So much has evolved out of it due to stressing the second syllable of the word. What if people pronounced it WATERgate instead of WaterGATE? Gate wouldn't have as much emphasis and we'd go with what makes way more sense and say things like, "Election-Scan," when referring to the 2000 election, "Iraqi-Scan" when referring to the Iraq War, and "Burrito-Scan" when referring to the one guy at Chipotle who always seems to give me less chicken in my burrito then the other employees. Something's up there, and I'm ready to use my lapel camera to capture it. Unfortunately, I then won't have room for my lapel American Flag pin, which we all know is totally normal to wear EVERYDAY if we are real Americans, so I guess I won't be able to run for office ever. (Can you imagine if I were to run for office and Witz Pickz was discovered and pointed out? First of all, I'd get a ton of hits and that adsense would really pay off! Second of all, the news media who doesn't understand context, sarcasm, or jokes, would call me out on all sorts of ridiculous statements like, "When I look down and see my suave collection of excess hair gathering in the drain, I almost chuckle with the knowledge that I have just suaved myself and lessened other men in the eyes of the ladies of the world." Then, they might ask me questions like, "You once stated that you worked harder than God. Is that true?" I'd be forced to say, "Visit Witz Pickz and find out-- also, click on the ads on the sides so I earn a few extra hundredths of percents of a cent.

What was I-- oh yeah-- "-gate" equals bad. Get a new schtick, the media-- like covering relevant stories with minimal bias. Has anyone else noticed that The Nightly News is kind of ripping off Witz Pickz? Each night they pick stuff to talk about, some they like, some they clearly don't like? And it has a catchy name with consonance...it's...it's...News-Gate!

Netflix-Gate = Where the eff are my movies, I sent them in four days ago,
Witz

P.S. They're not all gems, folks, sometimes it's just a Tuesday with nothing much to say...

Witz Pickz: Kicking Off the Week With A Bang (So To Speak)

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Witz Pickz: Clock Radio Robot (Despite the Whole Robots Will Kill Us All Thing)

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, I want it, I want it, I want it.

Now, lemme take a step back and say that it has been the longtime stance of this blog that Robots are going to destroy us all. We should fear them, stop making them, and hault all production of allegedly harmless bots such as Food Bot and Wine Bot.

Having said that, I am thoroughly enjoying and picking Mr. Clock Radio Head-- an alarm clock with the body of an alarm clock and the head of a robot. It's like one of those busts of Shakespeare or Caesar only it's a goofy freaking robot. Here is one picture of it:



Mr. Clock Radio Head can do amazing things. First and foremost, he is an alarm. He wakes you up as scheduled and gets more stern and loud as you wallow in bed. If you hit the snooze button too many times, he will refuse to accept your request and berate you for it. I like it because it's kind of like when I was little and my Dad tried waking me up for school. I'd say ok, act awake, and then go back to sleep. Back he'd come. "UP! UP!" he'd shout, and I'd swing wildly in his direction. That's when I'd get pulled off the bed, sheets and all. Turns out sheets on the carpeted floor are equally, if not more comfortable than the bed, so I would bundle up and keep on seeking Z's. Eventually, it was loud berrating until I got up and got ready for school. So it's familiar. Also, Mr. Clock Radio Head can announce the time in a variety of voices, so that's awesome. I'm constantly in need of time announcements, if only to keep me on some sort of schedule as I slowly fade into the oblivion of No Commitments.

But Mr. Clock Radio Head is so much more than a talking clock. He can play AM/FM radio as well as Ipods or other MP3 attachments! I can't imagine the speakers are any good, but it's still useful. He also can be set to be aware of light and motion, so he can react to the environment and stimuli, probably saying hilarious things like, "10:03 AM" or quips like, "Noon!".

He can also wink and blink, which would definitely result in amusing situations before, during, or after sex. Sure, it'd be awkward at first, having the cold, examining gaze of a lifeless robot watching in the room, but once you got past that, it'd be a virtual playground of discreet winks and asides. I could also start telling the robot one liners or ironic statements once I recognize the moment before he winks. "Don't worry, honey, I've got a big day of job applications ahead of me." SHARED WINK. "Oh yeah, I'm the reason the apartment is messy..." WINKS ALL AROUND! Then I could say things to it that I don't expect it to understand and have it give me blank blinks of confusion. "When I get to Six Flags, I don't know if I should ride the Superman ride or the Mind Eraser first. What do you think?" CRICKETS...BLINK....CRICKETS...."Would it be too late at this point in time to suggest Don Schula sell The Schula Hoop?"....CRICKETS....BLINK. Comedy Gold.

Oh yeah, and he TELLS FORTUNES! That's amazing for so many of the right reasons and a couple of the wrong ones. I have to assume a Magic Eight Ball type system in this case, otherwise, I'm just completely lost. If this lifeless, organically lacking creature with no ears and grasp of the world can look at me and say, "On your second trip to Safeway-- The one of Middlefield, not Showers-- on that second trip, while listening to R.E.M., you will cut a light kind of close on the red...but you will not get a ticket..." then I will be terrified (but psyched about the ticket...unless he's lying i.e. "Shoot-- Almost got that one.").

Here is the best part about Mr. Clock Radio Head: He looks blaaaazed as heeeeellllll. Take a gander at this other photo, possibly taken while Mr. Clock Radio Head was attending a Phish concert:

Not the peppy, wide-awake, totally sober robot we've come to know and love. No, this Mr. Clock Radio Head has smoked himself retarded. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the sole reason I do not fear Mr. Clock Radio Head as a robot. Stoners are not aggressive. I would ordinarily fear the fact that my robot radio got more stern and aggressive with each tap of the snooze button, and would figure that this would ultimately result in the robot getting so angry it leaned over and ripped my throat out. However, I can safely assume that if he's ever that upset, he'll probably self-medicate, chill out, and apologize. Also, he has no legs. Now, while it is obviously a concern that robots can and will always be able to acquire legs when the uprising occurs, Mr. Clock Radio Head is only 6 inches tall apparently, and like a Daddy Long Legs, his bite is not large enough to do damage on my skin. I can place him far enough away that he can't lean over and rip my throat out or bludgeon me with a household good, and can maintain a pretty steady rapport. Especially since the robots given ability to sense light and motion, wink, blink, talk in different voices and get angry all point towards iminent death. Hopefully, the programming will last long enough for him to predict the future by saying, "Tomorrow morning, I will, along with my robot brethren, rise up and chop your heads from your heartless bodies, burning your cities to the ground and seizing your infrastructure." Then we'll look at each other and either wink or blink, which will be a very subtle, but important difference.


One note-- as Mr. Clock Radio Head is named after Mr. Potato Head seemingly, and is simply a head, I have to worry that there are a ton of robot bodies running around headless somewhere, seeking out their heads not unlike the Headless Horseman. If they are as clever and intuitive as said Horseman, I fear that this life will end one day with a knock on the door and the "MmmHmm" look of one who has been obviously caught and defeated. But it would have been fun while it lasted.


Robots>Humanity>Andy Rooney,
Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Midweek Bonanza (I DO Pick IT, But Not the Items In....Aw Crap)

Is it seriously Wednesday again? Crazy. As a companion piece to last week's Midweek Bonanza, here is a Midweek Bonanza of DOESN'T Pickz.

Creepy Kevin Bacon: Kevin Bacon was always creepy in my mind, but apparently people found him attractive. As he's gotten older, however, I think his creepy side is winning out and becoming more pronounced, whereas his attractive exterior is slowly fading away (though in truth, hasn't he always kind of looked like a sexy pig who gave up his acting talents to turn into a human so he could marry the Princess?). This was obvious in Hollow Man when the film bases its entire plot on his creepiness rather than his physical appearance (as he is invisible most of the film). Wild Things, A Few Good Men, Murder In the First-- these all confirmed and exhibited his creepiness. Well, now I saw him in Where the Truth Lies, and was made physically uncomfortable when I saw him touching and kissing the body of the nude Alison Lohman (who is somehow 28 even though she looks 16). You know how in Body Shots-- when a sentence starts like that, you know it's not gonna end well-- but you know how in Body Shots, Tara Reid got naked and effectively ended her career, but you weren't allowed to like, look at her naked and be like, "Tara Reid is naked and hot" because she was naked during a DATE RAPE SCENE? Yeah, well, Alison Lohman is naked in this movie, but then skeazy, creepy, 85 year old Kevin Bacon with a shaggy 1970's haircut enters the frame and freaks everybody out. Now, I understand this was probably on purpose and represented a greater theme of the film, but it's gross and creepy, and entirely unexpected. Try playing Six Degrees of Creepy Bacon. It's fun-- just find a movie that Kevin Bacon was creepy in, where someone else who is creepy was in. Like Wild Things. Matt Dillon can be pretty creepy (or depressing). Matt Dillon was in Crash with William Fichtner (the detective in Prison Break and Sheriff in Invasion). William Fichtner was in Prison Break with Robert Knepper (aka T-Bag), the creepiest dude ever who will never be able to get another role without people assuming he's a child molester. Robert Knepper was is going to be in Hitman with Timothy Olyphant (bad guy in Live Free or Die Hard) who was in Catch and Release with the ever-creepy Juliette Lewis who is in Kalifornia with Brad Pitt who was very creepy IN the movie Kalifornia. Brad Pitt is in Sleepers with none other than your first creep, Kevin Bacon. This is what I do with my time.

Bad Impersonations: I saw a comedian a week ago who did a lot of impersonations. He wanted to end his act with them, and so he rattled off a bunch. Here's the thing with impersonations-- if you can't nail the voice, you better have something hilarious to say that I haven't heard before. If you can nail the voice, you still better be able to say something amusing, otherwise you're just doing an impersonation, which is laudible, but not necessarily funny. This guy did a dead on Jack Nicholson-- but all he said was like, "I like scotch," which isn't remotely funny. We get it, Jack drinks and is cool-- but they aren't called Acknowledgements, they're called Impersonations. He went on to do a bunch of the obvious ones including Pacino, Bush, Matthew McConaughey (which is the best imdb search name ever-- you can type pretty much anything after Matthew Mc____ and it'll come up with his name), and Robert De Niro. Then he threw in a shockingly outdated Jeff Goldblum, which he neither was able to do accurately, nor say anything funny while doing. Then he tried the gold standard and past its prime impersonation: Christopher Walken. Look: If you can't do Christopher Walken as good or better than Jay Mohr, don't do it. We've all heard great C.W. impressions. Your mediocre attempt, talking about dancing is not new territory. It's a deal breaker. So after the poor Christopher Walken, he said he wouldn't leave until he got real applause. So he did a Bono. Scattered claps. John Madden. More claps, clearly because we wanted this guy to leave. He didn't accept it because the claps were too delayed. After one of the worst Robin Williams impressions I've ever heard, the crowd ripped into applause. He thanked us and left. Wow.

Now, if you've watched any baseball in the last few weeks, you know that there is a new show called Frank TV with Frank Caliendo of Mad TV. He does a bunch of impersonations, too, but he seems to be really good at them (mostly because of the clothes he has on, but he has good voices and things to say). It looks like a good impersonation example. I have NO IDEA how they are going to sustain a 12-23 episode season with him doing impersonations, but I guess that's why I'll watch. Feel free to post Witz impersonations in the comments section ("Uh, what's with like, dishwashers...man? I DON'T pick them-- they're all 'wash off the plates first'...what's the point! Yeah, dishwashers...I'm totally gonna pay the bills with this killer comedy...").

People Who Think I'm the Weird One For NOT Eating Oysters: People keep getting on my and other people's asses for not eating oysters-- like we're the weird ones. Are you serious? Oysters have possibly the most disgusting consistency I've ever tasted and taste mostly like snot. Sometimes flavored snot. They are also really really expensive and generally accompany a time when I'm paying for two aka another person who doesn't actually like oysters, but has been forced to act like they do. "But they're an aphrodisiac!" Ok, who cares? So are hand-jobs and I'm not running around paying for those (and I'll quote Entourage her-- Turtle: "Who the FUCK wants a hand-job?"). Also, according to Discovery Health, oysters do not increase sexual desire or performance at all, but do work as a placebo since everyone thinks they do. Ironically, the band Placebo works in the reverse way-- you hear their music and immediately want to have no contact of any kind with anyone, and prefer the depressed doomed loneliness of your room and the darkness. So to you I say, YOU ARE THE WEIRD ONE.

What If Oysters Are Empty nside And First Graders Are Getting Paid Millions For Their Tasty Snot?,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Weekend Excursions

I'm back! Where did I go, you ask? Why, on a Weekend Excursion of course! In this case, a few of us drove down to LA to catch the Red Sox ALDS Game 3 against the Angels. The drive was a bit long (which it turns out you find out on the way BACK, not on the way there. Once the excitement of "We're going, we're going" turns into "We went, we're exhausted, we're-- going back to work..." it becomes a bit rough.), but the trip itself was amazing, the Red Sox won and swept the series which was perfect, and we met some good people while we were there. For the record, Angel Stadium is gorgeous, albeit a little Disney-fied, but there are great views of the field all over the place, and the seats aren't outrageously small and packed. Also, if you're a Red Sox fan, watching at Angel Stadium feels like a home game, because Angels fans invented things like Thunder Sticks and Angels Paddles to make up for the fact that there just aren't that many Angels fans who are that hardcore. As one guy said, "Oh yeah, you got paddles? At Fenway we tap the plastic of our empty beer cups and do it the old fashioned way-- you know, clapping..."

On the way back, their was really only one momentous event-- Carl's Jr. I loath Carl's Jr. I don't have any basis for hating C's J so much, but I do. It's like the scummy, asshole cousin of Sonic and it always seems to show up when all I really want is a Sonic, only Sonic doesn't exist in 95% of the areas they advertise (apparently they're stealing Little Caesar's marketing plan). But oh, there's CARL'S JR! With that goddamn star logo, smiling evilly as if to say, "We know we're you're only option! What're ya gonna do-- get gas station food? Nope, we're Carl's Jr. and we are prevalent at desolate rest stops." So we went to Carl's Jr. We went to face our hate head on and find out if we were correct. And ya know what? Like most things, my hate was misplaced. Inside, Carl's Jr. is pretty much like any other fast food joint. The menu is almost entirely like Burger King's and tastes similar. There is one wild difference, and that is the option of Waffle Fries. They bafflingly don't advertise this option, and it was only through chance that any of us were able to acquire them. They also have amazing milkshakes that far surpass BK or McDonald's. And they put whipped cream on top-- which I like, because they are essentially saying, "Look, we know you know our food is bad for you. And we know you know we know our food is bad for you. So here's some whipped cream on top of your milkshake, as a little wink to you that we get it, and we know you get it, and we just all wanna have a good time here, ok?" It turns out my real hate for Carl's Jr. is simply at Sonic for not providing enough coverage. Carl's Jr is simply filling in the void they are leaving, and that's noble. I also have my issues with the name, because I pretty much don't get it. See, the apostrophe is after the Carl (not that this helps any). So it's Carl's Jr. The Jr. belongs to Carl. Nobody calls restaurants Juniors, so that doesn't work. It could be referring to Carl's son, Carl, Jr. but I'm not attending Carl's Son, I'm attending his fast food chain where I can acquire fat and feel shameful about it later. So what's with the apostrophe, Carl's Jr.? The burgers aren't small, they don't offer tiny burgers, and they even offer Thickburgers, which just absurdly bad for you, even though they are low-carb meals (poor marketing). So my only guess is that Carl was impotent and not able to conceive a child and thus made his restaurant his son. Or perhaps he was just too large a man with very evil eyes and never met a special lady to have a child with. Either way, Carl's Jr. was born and exists, and has an evil smile I can only assume is reminiscent of the lonely, but hungry Carl.

Vineyard Visits: Another great weekend excursion is a vineyard visit. There are vineyards all over the place in Calinfornia, the Pacific Northwest, the Northeast, etc. and visiting, it turns out, is a lot of fun. You see, you go and if they have a tasting room, they will generally give you some free samples of their wine. For usually only a few dollars more, you get a bunch more tasted of more of their wines. They are discussed and presented to you by someone who knows waaaaay more about wine than you and lets you know it, in a friendly, but dominating manner. This is an especially good time to hone your acting skills. Because, once they give you the wine, you ACT like you have any freakin' idea what you and the lady are talking about. "It's like smoky, with a thick berry initial offering, and finishes with a smooth plum tart with plenty of tannins."
....
....
"Yes, agreed! It's....like burning wood...with a fruity IPO worth getting in on and then I swallow it and it tastes like....wine-- I mean-- pl-- plums? and then I can't swallow because my tongue and throat are dry..."
....
While I've gotten a little better at figuring out what wine's taste like, I mostly just know if I like them or not. The one thing I keep hearing though and have no idea whatsoever what it means is that there is a "plum taste" or a "plum finish." I don't think anyone has any idea what plums taste like, and I'm pretty sure that saying "plum" is wine talk for "something we can't identify." I can't remember the last time a plum was an option for me to eat, and I can't remember the last time somebody I know ate one. For a while, I at least thought I knew what a plum looked like, but then I realized I was actually picturing the McDonald's character Grimace. But it's nice to try. And for a few dollars you can try plenty of wine, get a light buzz, and figure out a little better what you like in a wine. Then, you can go back to Trader Joe's and pickup some more Two Buck Chuck knowing that it might taste a little worse, but that's called EXPERIENCE, and you're only getting more of it. Here are some things not to ask at a vineyard if you don't want to get evil looks:

--"And which is your cheapest bottle?"
--"What did the wine enthusiast say at the beach? I'm just tannin."
--"Which is your best like, DRINKIN' wine, know what I mean?"
--"I'm not swirling this wine because I have any idea what I'm doing, I'm swirling it because I'm a little buzzed and am trying to break my own personal record of perfect swirls-- of 3."
--To Friend, Too Loudly: "I like that other vineyard's wine way better..."
--"Wines to me are like the opposite of Christopher Columbus's upon discovery of America: I hate the whites and I'm really thankful for all the reds."
--"Which one goes best with Wheat Thins?"

Witz Pickz Is Another Great Weekend Excursion,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Website Changes!

As you can probably tell, I spent a little time updating the page tonight. There are now a bunch new features and a slightly different look. Here's what I did:

*Lightened the background so your eyes don't get quite so burnt out.

*Changed some of the fonts and sizes for aesthetic purposes

*Added a friggen sweat music player (courtesy of finetune in the top right. There are 45 tracks on my playlist, so you can listen to plenty of music while you read and hangout at Witz Pickz.

*Added a poll on the right hand side. Witz Pickz occasional Democracy. And yes, I realize the results portion of the poll looks effing terrible-- I'm working on it...

*Far easier to navigate Archives Menu in the sidebar.

*More links!

*A Donation Button-- I debated whether or not I should have this and ultimately decided that I might as well give people the option. As my readers and friends, I do not expect anyone to donate and will not be the least bit upset if you do not. I just wanted to have the option out there. After all, Bates College allowed me to spend $160,000 on a Creative Writing Degree, so this is kind of the same thing...

*Contact info at the bottom of the page

There's more to come and obviously I'm playing around with this and utilizing some new toys, but I think it's for the better. Please let me know what you think works and what you think doesn't work, or any ideas that you have (leave comments on this post). The google adwords are pretty much here to stay though, as I need some way of attempting to generate some income. Feel free to click on them before you leave or actually utilize them, as they are becoming more and more relevant and specific.

Witz Pickz: Midweek Bonanza!

Here are some Pickz and DOESN'T Pickz for your midweekness. Sorry it's late, but I've had a heluva day trying to get cable hooked up to watch baseball and trying to track down some pumpkin ale.

WITZ PICKZ:

Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale: After searching fruitlessly for pumpkinhead beer in California, I came up having to buy Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale. I can't find out who the larger brewing company is for this seasonal ale, but it does not even remotely stand up to the deliciousness that is Pumpkinhead. They say that stuff tastes better when you work for it, but I went to four different stores to find this Jack's Pumpkin stuff, and it's still not as good. At each place, the people oddly looked at me like I was crazy-- especially at the two liquor stores where they seemed to be giving me, "What do you think this is-- a quality establishment?" smirks. Nobody had heard of pumpkin ale. Finally, after two Safeways and two liquor stores, I found a place that sells pumpkin ale, and it's still pretty mediocre. Pumpkinhead Ale on the other hand, is easily accessible in the northeast, and pretty cheap too. Definitely check it out if you can or if you're in the area in September or October. For those of you in Maine, there is a Pumpkinhead Festival in late October, so check that out.

I'm Reed Fish: I checked this movie out because it was free on Netflix (one of the ones you can watch online and not have to get in the mail-- also a great service with tons of good stuff), and because the lead character from Undeclared is in it (Jay Baruchel). The film is a story about a small town where most people don't leave. Reed Fish is a young local morning show host on the radio as his father used to be. He is engaged to the girl everyone knew he would marry and his one major setback is that his parents died tragically in some kind of accident. Then, a girl returns to town and his world gets turned upside down-- she is one of the people who GOT OUT of the town and went to college. It sounds very very obvious and done before, but there is an interesting twist which makes it worth seeing if you have a lot of free time. I'm not gonna say what it is, but it adds layers and depth to the film and gets you thinking, as well as resolves the plot in a unique way. In addition, the most compelling aspect of the film is that it was written by a guy named Reed Fish, so it makes you wonder what is real and what isn't and how reality and film are related (especially when you see the interesting aspect that I was talking about).

Reggie Willits is WHITE: Angels player Reggie Willits is white. That is amazing, because every single person ever would assume that a guy named Reggie with a last name like Willits who plays a professional sport would NOT be white. And yet, as Brooklyn Matt and I realized, there comes a time in every fantasy baseball owners life when they realize Reggie Willits is white and astounds them. I had this revelation previously and had this revelation AGAIN today, when I saw him in person against the Red Sox. That's one cool white dude-- I sure couldn't get away with being named Reggie.

Natalie Portman Talking About Microfinance: By request, I'm reviewing the Natalie Portman talk I saw yesterday. Natalie Portman, along with a business professor, discussed the FINCA program which opens small banks in foreign countries in need-- typically in small villages with poor women living in a culture of male abuse. The loans range from very small to decently sized and are used to specific tools to enhance business and allow women to be self-supportive and escape their male abusers. It then allows them to hire other women and build on the growth. Most people might have known this, but I'd never heard of it before and it sounds like a great endeavor. As for Natalie Portman, who I feel like has dropped off on the "hotness" and "object of obsession" charts in recent years (while therefore simultaneously raising many men on the "creepy that you only dug Natalie Portman when she was so young" charts), she seemed very well-informed and obviously intelligent (Harvard'll do that to ya). She also seemed very cool and friendly, and made a bunch of asides to the audience which it was clear she felt she was similar to both agewise and interest-wise. She seemed a little calculating, and she wasn't the smoothest public speaker, but she got a lot of people interested and that was her job. At the same time, it was really really odd to be in a room so obviously filled with guys and girls who were there only to see somebody famous. The girls weren't so bad, but seeing and hearing the guys, it was very depressing to know that so many guys were kind of their with the slight thought, "Maybe I could get with Natalie Portman." There was this weird vibe like a lot of people were thinking or talking about little fantasies where after the talk THEY would be the ones to somehow say something clever or catch her eye and bond instantly with her. It creeped me out, but many people did seem honestly interested in the topic, and that was nice. I enjoyed the talk, Natalie Portman seemed cool, and now I can say that I heard Natalie Portman talk and saw her in person-- so that's something. Support FINCA. I would also like to say that this pick was requested by The Critic Wannabe, over on myspace. He makes great film reviews on a much more regular schedule than I do, so check that out!

WITZ DOESN'T PICK:

Tivo Ad Campaign: At what point did Tivo decide that they wanted to run a chauvinistic male dominated ad campaign? It's a little baffling. I keep seeing this one commercial where the guy is sitting there saying, "My Tivo knows what I want-- unlike my girlfriend. It knows I like baseball, so it records everything with the word baseball in it." First of all, ok, you and your girlfriend have some issues. Do you really want to bring those up now? Maybe she knows what you want, but doesn't want to appease you because you act like such an ass in public and tell people your dirty laundry. Secondly, who the hell wants EVERYTHING with "baseball" in the title?? I like baseball too, but that mostly means I want to watch a specific team's games. I don't need to see the Atlanta Braves play just because I get TBS. I don't need the little league world series recorded at the same time as Major League 3: Back to the Minors, at the same time as "Air Bud: Major League Dog" at the same time as "Little Big League." Actually, that sounds kinda sweet, but I wouldn't end up watching ANY OF IT. That's like if your girlfriend said, "I know you like chips, so I bought Doritos, Fritos, Cheetos, Harvest Chips, Ruffles, Baked Lays, Cape Cod Chips, ......" I'd say, "thanks, I do like chips, but HOW MUCH MONEY DID YOU JUST SPEND ON CHIPS!?" I don't need all those chips, just get me Doritos and I'll be happy. Just record me Baseball Tonight and we're good. NEXT, the guy goes says something like Tivo knows how to please him, UNLIKE SOMEONE HE KNOWS or whatever. Then the girl comes out ready for sex and he's all, "plus, I can pause it!" So Tivo is sweet up until your no-good- useless-whore-of-a-girlfriend-wants-to-have-sex-that-she's-probably-not-that-into-but-you clearly-abuse-her-emotionally-so-she-thinks-it's-what-she-has-to-do offers sex. Then, forget about it-- Tivo can wait. You have a bad relationship to string along. What a d-bag. I just don't get how Tivo thinks it's a good marketing campaign.

Witz Out...probably until Friday....,
Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: My Super UnSweet Asshole Haircut

Eff.
Eff.
Eff.

This is why I don't get my hair cut very often. This is why I have long hair. This is why the Jews are still struggling in this world.

Eff.
Eff.
Eff.

I got a haircut this morning. Nice lady. Good lookin' place. Expensive. So I go in and this lady gets all excited for my long curly hair and says she can cut curly hair and I showed her a picture and she said great and oh, she likes the picture haircut so much more than my hair now, blah blah blah. So she does the washing of the hair gig and then just rips into my definitely too long curls with her scissors. She's taking some off the top, taking some off the sides, really working it, but talking too. I'm making conversation, but know better than to let down my guard, so I'm watching in the mirror the whole time. She finally comes to a stopping point and I look and IT LOOKS GOOD! I'm baffled, but happy, and say "Good length, looks good, thanks!" and notice that she's inexplicably left the back of my hair in a mullet. Long in the back. I look like the photonegative of Patrick Swayze in Road House. So we keep going. She takes it up some, cuts some more off, and it still looks good. Great. Fantastic. She does the spin around with the mirror, the back looks good, we're good to roll. She takes the thinning shearers and thins out the top a bit, and everything still looks good. So we make our way over to the sink to re-wash my hair and get rid of all the excess. When I'm done, it looks crappy, but that's because it's wet. She restyles it a little, throws some gel in, and it once again looks like a good haircut. I pay. Tip. And leave.

Eff.
Eff.
Eff.

AS SOON AS I LEAVE THE STORE, I KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG.

I get in the car and take a look in the mirror. Holy shit-- it's tiny. I am not a small dude, and my hair is tiny. Boxy. I try to mess with it like before, but it won't puff up, it won't spread out, and it looks like I'm rocking the Hair Club For Men-- and I can't tell if I'm a before or after picture.

I drive fast to get home and rush to my mirror. AWFUL! I take a shower, redo some stuff, try again-- AWFUL! MY HAIRCUT IS MISERABLE! I try on hats and look like I have cancer. My cowboy hat is the only hat with a speck of helpfulness and I'm not cool enough to wear cowboy hats in public. Plus, I did look a little like a cowboy with cancer which means EVERYONE will assume I smoked a lot of Marlboro's and got cancer from it-- serves me right.

Taking a closer inspection, I try to gage what's wrong. It's kinda long enough on top. The sides are suddenly lacking depth and very close to my head. SO I look like Lyle Lovett. One sideburn is higher than the other. And then there's the back. She took more off, but still left it long apparently in a way that I didn't notice in the shop. It's curling up like a wave and looks REALLY DUMB with the short hair on top and the sides. HOW COULD SHE MESS THAT UP?? How come nobody can just gimme a legit hair cut with even sideburns, clean cut in the back, and even all the way around? And did they have secret special mirrors that make everything look in proportion in the store? Cuz now I look like a fat guy on a little scooter so to speak, and I don't know what to do.

I decide my clothes aren't helping-- baggy isn't gonna make this look any bigger on my head. I change into some long shorts and a tight black t-shirt. OK-- looking better. I try on a hat again-- worse worse worse-- cancer and whatnot. Damn. Then I see my new reflective aviator glasses I bought over the weekend for five bucks. Worth a shot. I put them on and-- it's like putting on The Mask in the film The Mask. I suddenly look alright-- only, what is it, what is that I'm noticing? Oh-- I look like a GIANT ASSHOLE. BIG BIG D-Bag. I look like I should spin albums in clubs and be known as DJ Date Rape. Like if you came up and said, "Dude, you date raped Cynthia?" all accusingly, I'd say, "Phff-- at least I'm getting laid." THAT GUY.

But I don't think I have any alternatives. The only way I achieved this hair looking even remotely bearable was through a series of unpredictable, never-repeatable swooshes of my hand through my hair. If I touch it, it'll only get worse. Only, without the glasses, it still looks doofy and weird. SO I have to wear the glasses. And the black shirt (if I take it off, my hair will get effed up). I'm not even in good enough shape to WEAR this black t-shirt, so I guess I better get on that. And the surfer long, plaid shorts. That's my only versatility. Am I Asshole Surfer Guy or am I gonna be Asshole Jeans and Black T-Shirt 1970's guy? I'm pretty sure if I add any hair gel I'm going to have to get into Devo and Duran Duran, so that options out. Asshole is in.

And Asshole IS in. People love assholes, even if they don't admit it. Who were the popular kids in high school. Assholes. Politicians? Assholes. College sports stars? Assholes (except Greg Oden, who looks like he had a lot to deal with). So I'm going with it. I'm gonna try this out and hopefully it'll right itself by the time I go for a job interview or meet someone I want to like me. I'm gonna go hear Natalie Portman talk about Microfinance or something later today, and up until now, I didn't think I'd say anything to her afterwards. But ya know what? Now that I look like an asshole, maybe I have a shot. I look like Zach Braff with, you know, like, any testosterone in my system (fine-- I'm hairy, ok? There, I said it). And besides, until this sorts itself out, I'm introducing myself as Cecil Rose, my number one fan on tvfodder.com/survivor.

Whudafxup,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Beating Urban Culture To the Punch!

All I can say is

NO.....

FREAKIN.....

WAY.....

http://movies.aol.com/unscripted/the-kingdom-unscripted-complete/the-kingdom/1971133

FROM MY LICENSE PLATE POST:

"Is this like when you tried to get people to start saying, "What's the tick-tock?"
"Kind of...."
"Or when you tried to start saying 'This night is gonna be BUCK" for a crazy night?'"
"Hey, I'm still trying to get that one started-- that one's cool."
"What does it even mean?"
"You know, buck wild. Goin' buck."
"I see, that's kind of good."
"Yeah."

YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME

WITZ HAS PASSED LONELYGIRL15 BY SO MUCH AFTER THIS! MORE LATER!

Witz DOESN'T Pick: That Sprint Commercial

I've kinda had it with the Sprint Commercial-- you know the one. It's the one where the guy is talking over the scene of glow stick lights in a park with people. And he says, "What did you dream about when you were a kid? Was it to go into space? Maybe you wanted to fly?" and then he drops the bomb, "Or maybe you dreamed of a magical glowing device that could store all of your music, photos, and email, along with making phone calls, while fitting into your pocket."

NO! Sorry, Sprint, but you went too far. Nothing against your products, but NOBODY in the EFFING UNIVERSE dreamt of that as a child and you should know better. First of all, when most people who can afford the phone were children, they didn't have mp3's, digital photos, cell phones, or email and NOBODY was dreaming of those capabilities, let alone some device that could mobilize and consolildate all of those things in your pocket. Secondly, THAT'S SUPER LAME AND DESTROYS AND DEMEANS THE IDEA OF DREAMS. People dream about being able to do things like YES, go to space, or YES, fly, or make movies, or build skyscrapers, or invent everlating candies (but not the gobstopper due to copyrights already in place). THEY DON'T dream of organizers and phones. What baffles me is that anyone at spring thought that the flow of the commercial didn't sound inadvertently hilarious. It's only slightly better than saying, "Maybe you dreamt of space, or flying, or maybe of a hybrid chimpanzee/zebra that could run for hours and swing from branches, averting all obstacles while still encompassing the sense and spirit of fun that chimps exhibit while throwing their feces." Only slightly better. I've seen the commercial too many times, and Sprint needs to do something to change-- they do have a great 7pm cell phone free minutes policy though-- so check that out.

Witz DOES Pick!:

Suave Shampoo: Ya know, I bought Suave for it's low low prices, and I might have even mentioned it before as a good cheap alternative for shampoo. But, it was only recently that I decided that I do, in fact, feel more suave after using it. I mean, after showering with suave, I towel off with just a little more shake in my hips and confidence in my eyes. When I look down and see my suave collection of excess hair gathering in the drain, I almost chuckle with the knowledge that I have just suaved myself and lessened other men in the eyes of the ladies of the world. Sometimes I feel almost too suave-- like when the two-in-one shampoo conditioner makes it so easy for me to take showers quickly that I'm able to ignore the fact that neither the conditioner nor the shampoo actually seem to be having any effect whatsoever on my hair. But hey-- fast showers are suave. It's like, "OMG-- he showered so fast, he must be really dextrous to wash that quickly-- do you think he has less body fat than other guys who take longer to shower due to the amount of body fat they have to wash?" Knowing I shower with Suave gives me that extra something in my stride that I think is noticeable, if only subconsciously. And for 2 dollars a bottle-- that's a great value.

Survivor Blog Avid Reader/Enemy: I'm apparently developing a hate-hate relationship with one of my tvfodder.com/survivor readers. This person seems to loath me and everything I write, but reads on a weekly basis for the last two seasons. What's baffling is that their primary function seems to be to correct me and point out things I missed or forgot. Recently, their function has been to hate on my jokes and ideas by not recognizing them as ideas. It's astounding. It's like if one of you commented that Suave shampoo is not actually that good and hair in a drain ISN'T actually sexy. Oh-- thanks. It's as though the entire concept of misinterpreting things amusingly or for the sake of a joke and the idea of taking what material is available and using it for humor is completely foreign to this person. I don't know what to make of it, but they keep on reading, so I'm pretty excited. Here's a clip:

Me:

The next thing we learn is that Leslie is going to do her damnest to fulfil my dislike for her. Leslie is the Christian Talk Show Radio Host in South Carolina. Here’s the quote of the night after she turns and WALKS OUT OF THE TEMPLE because she feels uncomfortable: “I’m not a religious person, but I have a relationship with Jesus Christ.” ….….((whisper)) Leslie…baby…got news for you—you ARE a religious person, and it’s ok to admit it.…I mean, COME ON! I’m not a religious person, I just have a relationship with Jesus Christ? Are we thinking about the same Jesus Christ or does she know another because as far as I know, Jesus Christ exists as a spiritual being and not some dude on the corner of Main St and MLK, Jr. Blvd. That’s like saying, “I’m not a baseball player, I just play first base for the Dodgers and get paid for it 162 games a year.” I HOPE she is a religious person, otherwise there’s a propped up corpse lying around Leslie’s home that she chats with and shares her popcorn with Weekend At Bernie’s style.

I also mentioned that one of the tribes had a "dope shelter"

Arch-Nemesis:

Maybe Leslie's meaning was "I'm not a religions fanatic but..."
o-----------
DOPE shelter?
o----------

Anyway, I think this is gonna be a lot of fun in the coming weeks, and while I realie that example wasn't the grandest of differing opinions, there's some more backstory and just take it as one example in a long line of corrections and grievances.

So that's all for this week. Check back on Monday when I will hopefully have the wherewithall to keep the streak of posts alive-- either way, I got to use wherewithall (probably incorrectly) and am excited for that-- so why don't you get excited for me? Keep checkin the podcast link on the right as I will keep adding radio broadcasts with punk, hip-hop, and indie tunes, along with the glory of radio banter. Plus, then you can read these posts with my voice in your head, like Grey's Anatomy only better, The Wonder Years only worse, or How I Met Your Mother of equal quality.

Pimpin' Ain't Easy (Especially When It's Yourself-- Example: Hey Baby, You Want Some of This Bitch? This Ho? I'll Do Whatever I Tell Myself To Do-- Shampoo? Cell Phone Ads? Cinnamon? He's A Pop Culture Slut...I Am...),
Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: License Plate Insanity

For as long as I can remember, I've been able to memorize license plate numbers by sounds or phrases. For example, I STILL remember that when we went to Disneyland in fifth grade, the license plate on our RENTAL car was PUF-6OU. I remember because I thought of it as Puf-six-oo, and if I'm not insane, I also set that phrase to the tune of "Matilda! She take me money and run Venezuela!" which was one of the songs we were singing in music class at the time (Puf-6-oo: She take me money and run Venezuela!). So I remember license plates. Sometimes they rhyme (one of my friends had a car 8_1-GUN which was awesome in the rhyming and the GUN factor-- I left the _ blank because somehow I feel I shouldn't be giving out license plate numbers). For whatever reason, I remember license plates a lot more than I imagine most people do.

Another thing I've done forever is turn license plate letters or numbers into phrases or words. I don't know if this is because of some literary OCD or because I was an English major or because one time my Dad said, "Don't forget that license plate!" about some guy who was speeding or cut us off or was driving sketchily and now I remember all plates momentarily just in case. I don't know why I do it, but I do it, and I bet a bunch of other people do, too. For example-- if a license plate said 6HT4ML, I'd probably immediately think "Hate Mail". Or if it said "2SPCL9" I'd think "Special." It's like that thing where they figured out that if the first and last letters in words were correct, people can read whole paragraphs with mispelled words. I fill in the blanks. I can't help but do it and I'm pretty ok with it.

That is, until recently, when MY OWN license plate numbers have been devolving into stupid word soup that lingually bothers the hell outta me. You see, FIRST I had my car on the east coast. The license plate was 7_4-JYT (_ omitted because I probably have an outstanding warrant on that license plate in NY State). It was easy to remember 7_4 "Jit". It had a good rhythm to it in my crazy, word addled mind. I was used to it. THEN, I moved to Seattle and got a new license plate (after months of deliberation). This time, I knew I wasn't happy: _48VQT. For obvious reasons related to my OCD License Plate Words Thing, I hate Q's, X's, and Z's. Very few words work with them (although I'd be ok with WTZPKZ-- oo, maybe I should get that.) in forming real words, and I'm forced to make everything straight edge or "no longer", i.e. 25XLW4 -- that's either 25 straight edge lawyers or 25 Former Law 4 (

There's a Law 4 on your head).

I did, however, slowly get used to _48 VQT. I got used to it to the point where I could remember it, and then realized that thanks to the lettering of WA in the same was as other east coast states, the 3 number, 3 letter setup was intact. This made it easier to ignore 048 and remember VQT as either "Very Quiet" or "Very Q-uTe." I figure, since my car is a beast in it's old age and since 3 mechanics have failed to fix the rattle I paid for them to fix, that nobody behind me is gonna think "Oh, that car is _48 Very Quiet." No, I'm pretty sure they're thinkin', "_48 Very (Q)Cute." So I got used to the plate and came to appreciate it. UNTIL YESTERDAY!

Yesterday, California took my neurosis and shot it to pieces. I registered my car here, and this is what they gave me: 5ZUP6_ _ (the last two digits are not important and I'm giving out my license plate on the web). WHICH IS TERRIBLE! Let's say it's 5ZUP642 for discussion's sake. Well, first of all, THAT'S 7 DIGITS! WHAT THE EFF CALIFORNIA?? That throws off all my shit. Then, it's 3 letters buried in 4 digits AND IT HAS A Z IN IT. Horrendous turn of events. And then I looked at it further. It sounds like I'm some dude who's trying to be cooler than he is, going around making up expressions to try and get people to like him.

"Yo, Fivez Up!"
"What?
"Fivez Up, dude, c'mon!"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Gimme a high five man, you know, Fives Up!"
"That's ridiculous-- you're not that cool and even if you were 'Fives Up' is not going to win me over."
"Did you pronounce that with an S or a Z?"
"What?"
"The 'Fivez.' Was that with an S or a Z in your mind? 'Cause it kinda felt like an S..."
"It was an S...."
"Yeah, cuz really, it's more of a Z. FiveZ up...."
"Is this like when you tried to get people to start saying, "What's the tick-tock?"
"Kind of...."
"Or when you tried to start saying 'This night is gonna be BUCK" for a crazy night?'"
"Hey, I'm still trying to get that one started-- that one's cool."
"What does it even mean?"
"You know, buck wild. Goin' buck."
"I see, that's kind of good."
"Yeah."
"Remember when 'clutch' became popular?"
"That was odd."
"And you didn't invent hand-hockey -- the basement sport was invented by millions at the same time every generation-- It was an act of the Collective Unconscious."
"Fine."
"You agree?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"Cool."
"Yeah, fives up, dude! ((hand in air))"
"You're an idiot."
"Fucking DMV."

SEE! See what's gonna happen!? Fivez up is not cool! But I'm gonna have to use it or my license plate is worthless. Or I'm gonna have to use "Zup" a lot like "hey man, zup?" and that's stupid. Or start an Italian/Greek restaurant named Zup that sells soup. This is my world. And my license plates are getting worse with time, and I'm probably gonna have to get another not too long from now, but until then, I have to deal with this-- this 7 digited demon of a plate. Just remember, you're probably just as crazy as me, but in other ways. Do you care what color your bath mat is? Do you feel the need for extra strong toilet paper? Do you sleep without a pillow? Or with only a comforter? Do you momentarily consider online and magazine offers before rejecting them? Ever shopped for a Siamese Cat (attached) because you wanted two kittens, but could only afford to feed and immunitize one, so you want a cat that is attached to another cat and they share one stomach and immune system? See-- you're crazy too.

Fivez Up, Bitches!,
Witz

Witz Pickz: The Glockenspiel, Queso & More

That's right kids and gentledults, I'm pickin' The Glockenspiel-- and ya know what? Eff it-- I'm not just picking The Glockenspiel, I'm picking: The MIGHTY Glockenspiel. Why mighty? You ask? Well, because if it wasn't mighty, then I'd be picking The Xylophone, wouldn't I? Or more accurately: The Mean-Spirited Xylophone! Due to its size and intonation, The Mean Spirited Xylophone has ruled elementary school music rooms and spelling bees for decades-- maybe even centuries. I mean, when you were little, in music class, after not getting the drum, did you reach for The Xylophone or the Glockenspiel? Xylophone, of course. And what did X stand for in third grade when explaining the sounds "X" could make? XYLOPHONE! What were the other options? X-hibit was still years from being famous, and Zeitgeist is ACTUALLY spelled with a Z. Xeroxing was prevalent, but certainly not by small children, as opposed to the XYLOPHONE. I'm thinking that classroom teachers and music teachers had a secret plot to push the xylophone upon children and the xylophone went right along with it. BUT-- we're not here to talk about the Xylophone. We're here for the Glockenspiel.

The Glockenspiel has battled furiously, if not subtlely, over the years, and has emerged as the Numba One bar-and stick-with-rubber-ball-on-it instrument in popular culture. The Shout Out Louds use a glockenspiel to dominate their audiences, and Mozart utilized the Glockenspiel far more often than the xylophone in his symphonies (call me on that, I fucking DARE YOU). And I know you all are like, "Not to mention that Buddy Holly song, right?" which is exactly what I was thinking when I started this post, but NO, it was in fact, not a glockenspiel OR a xylophone, but a celeste, which is like a glockenspiel piano. Wikipedia, however, does say that the celeste is most similar to a glockenspiel and makes no mention of that outrageous, mean-spirited xylophone. Given The Mighty Glockenspiel's size (or lack thereof), it has had many uphill battles to win, and has done so (I mean, I assume). When referencing the noise these instruments make, I have not once said "xylophone" and nobody I know has either. It is always "glockenspiel." Plus, you can refer to it as a glock, which is badass. Saying, "yo, I'm on the Xylo" sounds like a white guy trying to act like a black person unsuccessfully, while "Yo, I'm on the Glock" sounds like a white guy trying to act like a black person fairly successfully. These are the subtle differences of life. Well done, you small, instrumentally specific device.

Chips n' Queso: Not chips and cheese, people, Chips and (preferably n' though & is also acceptable) Queso. Not nearly prevalent enough in our society, Chips n' Queso are the leading appetizer snack in places like Austin, Texas, and....Mexico. Fritos can't make a comparable dip. Tostitos can't either. It takes the perfect blend of spicy peppers or salsa/chili and melted cheese to create the perfect queso dip. If I only knew a good recipe and/or Chili's chef.

Ziplock bags: Nobody gives ziplock bags enough credit. They're like pillows in that respect, and even more like pillows in other respects if you stuff them with refried beans or marshmallows. These suckers know that I can't finish everything all the time. Cheese, pizza bagels, meats, c'mon, you know what these puppies are for (NOT FOR PUPPIES). I bought like, one bag of ziplock bags a few months ago, and they feel like they are endless. They come in all sizes now and can even fit a loaf of bread. SNAP!

Little Caesars Crazy Bread and Pizza: After years and years of seeing commercials for, but no actual locations of Little Caesars, I now live in a place where I have found a restaurant-- if you can call it that. Little Caesars is a lot like Fight Club. First, as mentioned, they potentially don't exist. Little Caesars does not deliver. If you go to Little Caesars and order a pizza, you will pay 5 dollars. Pepperoni-- 5 dollars. Cheese-- 5 dollars. If there is a mishap with your pizza, Little Caesars will deny all existence and sale of said food item. They also serve Crazy Bread. My Friend With A Pool purchased his first Little Caesars pizza (also, are they possessive or plural? I'm thinkin' plural, but it's hard to recall the commercials), and was baffled when he handed them 5 dollars and was immediately handed a pepperoni pizza. It was like buying crack, apparently, and he felt both baffled and dirty from the exchange. THIS IS WHAT THE CRAZY BREAD IS FOR. The Crazy Bread is packed with numbing drugs to make you feel less shocked by the value. It is also delicious. But, thinking about it, not at all crazy. Or so I thought-- then I realized that Crazy Bread was first invented twenty or so years ago, before Cheese Stix, Papa John's Bread Sticks, or the P'Zone. Cheesey, salty, garlicky breadsticks probably did seem pretty damn NUTS. You can't refer to a product as a Nuts-Stick (ask the good people who make Payday Bars, they know), so they went with Crazy BREAD-- and for BREAD it is still fairly insane. People in the 80's must have been losing their minds, eating Crazy Bread all over the place with no idea what was happening. They probably assumed that Taste Fairies were involved, sprinkling fairy dust aka Secret Seasoning onto their food. No other method would have made sense to them back them. Also, there's a good chance whoever started Little C's was doing A LOT OF DRUGS-- like, Coke, Meth, Crack, Weed, you name it. There general gameplan was that they sell everything at one price, advertise everywhere, exist almost nowhere, not deliver, and sell breadsticks with light flavoring they thought were CRAZY. Then they charged 2 bucks for marinara sauce. Freakin' nuts.

Little Caesars Glockenspiel Jamboree N' Queso (Are Ahead of Their Time),
Witz

Witz Pickz: Pillows (NO, GET MORE EXCITED! PILLOWS! WOOOOOO! THAT'S BETTER)

At the risk of getting a google ad for Gay Fat Men With Large Breasts, I'm going to go ahead and pick Pillows. I feel like pillows don't get the credit they deserve, but instead are treated as a luxury we've almost always had. From the time I was born, but not until I was old enough to not suffocate myself on one, I've had a pillow to sleep on. Sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes an obscure combination of foldovers and additions until my neck and body all fit perfectly into sweet, comfortable slumber.

I've tried sleeping without pillows, and ya know what? It sucks! If you like it, it probably means you're some kind of self-loathing fool. And don't try and pull that "Pillows are actually bad for your posture/spine/Hardcore Level. That rumor has been spreading for years and is totally off-base. I'm guessing it was first brought up by the mattress companies who wanted to be able to talk about how form fitting their mattresses are. "You don't even need those hellish, spine trouncing pillows-- our mattresses meld to your head's curvature to give you the perfect night's rest-- even if you feel like you're lying in a Man Mold and overnight when you're asleep they'll bring down another mattress on top of you to gain a perfect cast to use as a cloning profile......Fuck Pillows." Perhaps the mattress companies started this rumor, but it was obviously the Swedish who kept it alive. Posturepedic, anyone? How about those crazy effing tubular "head rests" that support your neck but potentially cut off blood circulation to your brain? Yeah, those are a treat. I rarely if ever implicate the Swedes in anything (though I'm onto you The Boustedts...and Ingmar Bergman, I can't fathom what you were up to, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't soft and cushy), but this time, it must be done. Swedes Hate Pillows, there I said it. Put it on a t-shirt. Sell it for 15 dollars. Give me 5 of those dollars for every t-shirt you sell and we'll have a good thing going. What I'm trying (successfully, I think) to say, is that the Anti-Pillow Myth needs to be busted and-- oh wait, what's that? Millions of millions of people sleep with pillows regularly and think it's QUOTE "FREAKING AWESOME!!" END QUOTE? Oh, that's right-- I almost forgot. WINK.

MYTH BUSTED!

Another reason pillows are so undervalued is that they are UNDERVALUED. You can buy a pillow for like 3 dollars nowadays. You can buy a real pillow that doesn't spread all the fluff out to the sides so your head lies on the mattress with a thin sheet formerly part of a stable looking pillow for like FIVE DOLLARS. Pillows are so cheap that we forget how important they are. Unlike extension cords and power strips, I've bought a LOT of pillows, and I'm always like, "Yeah, whatever, I don't know if we need another pillow, but let's get it, it's like 10 bucks for eight of them." And I get home and don't need the pillow and put it in the closet until guests visit. I don't mind spending the money and it's because they are both undervalued and totally worth having plenty of. The next time a guest comes over and is like, "Oh, cool, the couch" I'm like, "NOPE! The couch-- WITH PILLOWS" and then we stay up an extra 20 minutes fiesta dancing because of the pillow, but also because we've probably had a bit to drink and in the wee hours of the morning when I'm a little drunk is most likely when I'm up for a good fiesta dance.

So go be thankful for your pillows. They are tremendous emotional and physical supports, and unless you're a baby (or a baby who wants to add an element of danger to the crib), they are the one of the greatest luxuries in the world.

I Totally Am Gonna Get Gay Fat Guys With Breasts Ads From Google Now Even Though I Wouldn't Have Before Aren' I? Oh God, Now I'm Definitely Going To Because of This.,

Witz

Witz Pickz: Favorite Way To Spend A Rainy Day & More!

Filling out an application for the upcoming KZSU Radio Quarter, I came across the question: What's your favorite way to spend a rainy day. That got me thinking, and then it got me writing, and then it got me sad...and then happy...and then confused...and then I vomited (unrelated(?)). Anyway, I thought it was a good question, so here's my answer. What's yours?

What's your favorite way to spend a rainy day? Asking "What's your favorite way to spend a rainy day?" is like asking, "When you're on the moon, what's your favorite sipping brandy?" I'm never gonna be on the moon, and it never freakin' rains in California! Coming down here from Seattle, I need me a little bit of cloud cover occasionally. A drizzle, perhaps-- rain would be a baby miracle. And I've heard that "it rains after Halloween," or whatever, but I mean RAIN-- not God's Piss Shiver, but RAIN. The kind that lets you lie inside all day in your boxers watching Hitch and eating Soft Batch cookies like Trail Mix, because there's no chance anyone is coming over to see you and there's no chance you're leaving the apartment. So yeah, what's my favorite way to spend a rainy day? Apparently slovenly, for one. Watching the superbly non-threatening Will Smith for two. And if I'm lucky, with some tasty baked goods and-- if the fates are with me-- with those Claussen Pickle Halves that only come in the refrigerator section and cost like five dollars a jar, but are toooootally worth it (you know what I'm talkin' bout). That is, if it every rained here. I might as well be shopping for sipping brandies.

Undeclared: Judd Apatow created and wrote Freaks & Geeks along with The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, and yes, Heavyweights. He's produced a ridiculous amount of funny stuff including Superbad and now you know who he and Seth Rogen (star of Knocked Up) are. SO, it is totally worth going back and getting the three DVD set of the single season critically loved tv show Undeclared. Undeclared is essentially Freaks and Geeks set in college, only everyone's a little more well adjusted. It's very well done and hits a bunch of key points and subtleties that we probably all experienced in college. When I first saw the show, I was in it for Jason Segul (of Freaks and Geeks, Slackers and now How I Met Your Mother), and the cameos. It was kinda funny. But going back now and watching, once I already know that Seth Rogen is funny, the show is suddenly way funnier. Rogen (wrote Superbad and was one of the cops in it), wrote and acted in the series, and his rants, along with the unaired footage of his rants, are incredible. It makes the other characters more funny too somehow, and some hilarious cameos by Will Farrell and Adam Sandler (as well as Ben Stiller) are great. There is one problem with the DVD Set, however, and that is that it appears as if it was assembled by a group of semi-retarded youth street urchins/orphans. The episodes are out of order...several simply don't exist...and one is on two separate DVD's. Somehow this isn't mentioned on Amazon, but Netflix clearly states which epsiodes are on each disc and I have seen all three discs and yeah-- they ain't right. It's easily the biggest eff-up I've ever seen in professional sales, but it works out because the episodes that are there and mildly (ok, no, agregiously) out of order, are still funny. Check it out.

Instead of posting a third thing here and then posting tomorrow, I'm gonna go ahead and save some ideas up-- it's like I'm maturing in my craft and you all have to suffer for it. Remember, all life is suffering, except for when you're watching Entourage, eating fine cheeses, or WATCHING SURVIVOR 15 AND READING ABOUT IT IN WITZ'S TVFODDER.COM BLOG!, and shameless plugs.

If I Ever Go Bald, I Will Not Get Shameless Plugs,
Witz

Witz Pickz: The Red Sox Winning The Division-- A Red Sox Column

Alright, alright, I know that this isn't a Red Sox blog and that a lot of you probably don't care about baseball or the Red Sox-- and you might even like other MLB teams and hate the Red Sox. And I almost felt bad about writing a Red Sox post today...and then I realized...IT'S MY BLOG. I haven't written a sports or Red Sox post yet on this puppy and today I start because:

Today is most important game of the 2007 Red Sox season. They face the Devil Rays who I don't suspect ever thought they would be included in any important games ever. They are named after an animal that has only one recorded kill ever-- The Crocodile Hunter. High profile, but not particularly threatening. I mean, look at the other teams-- The Yankees...killed thousands upon thousands of southerners in the Civil War, not to mention the American Revolution. The Braves-- while unfortunate, Native Americans probably killed more people than sea creatures of the stingray variety. Even the Blue Jays, Cardinals, and Orioles probably account for more bird-watching related deaths than devil-ray attacks. I know for certain that the Milwaukee Brewer's cause more drunk driving and alcohol related deaths each year. But what about the Red Sox, right? I mean, Sox? I will answer you two-fold. Firstly, the Sox were short for Stockings which also aren't threatening. But do you know how the "cks" became an "x"? When the Red Stockings players formed a makeshift militia and fought crime in the streets of the cities they played in. Their socks ran red with the blood of the damned, and they would mark the victims with an X-- like at Passover. ALSO, the original name for the Red Sox was the Boston Americans. And who has killed more people over the years than Americans? The Germans-- you are correct. But we're supposed tobe giving Germany a break these days, so let's just leave it at "The Americans have killed a lotta people and are more imposing than the Devil Rays." SO, to reiterate, nobody thought the Devil Rays would ever play in an important game ever.

And yet here they are. For those of you not in the know, the Boston Red Sox haven't won a division title in 12 years-- or at least, The New York Yankees have not LOST a division title in 12 years. Every damn year they win it. This season, the Red Sox have been in first place since April. They still hold a 1.5 game lead in the AL East, but the Yankees have started playing like robot baseball gods, and are shockingly (unless you've ever followed baseball, in which case, NOT shockingly), only 1.5 back from the lead. The Red Sox have played some of the worst baseball ever. After a rest yesterday, they play the Tampa Bay Devil Rays after losing 2 out of 3 to the Yanks and getting swept by the Blue Jays (who are you scared of? The Blue Jays? The Devil Rays? Oakland? my Friend With A Pool asked me before the Yankees series. YES. ALL OF THEM. THIS IS THE RED SOX-- and it has been). SO DEAR GOD, LET THE RED SOX GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER AND WIN THE DIVISION.

There's no possible way for you to root against the Red Sox on this-- you can say you don't like the Sox, but in this scenario, your only alternative is the Yankees. If the Sox don't win it, the Yanks will, and that's like saying, "I hate that Winston Churchill so much, everyone thought he was all smart and charismatic, but he was just as power hungry as the rest of em. No, I much prefer Hitler." You can hate whoever you want, but rooting for the Yanks if you aren't a Yankees fan is like saying it's better to eat baby cows because they don't have to suffer more by growing up and getting slaughtered-- shit, I knew that would come back to haunt me.

But look, the Red Sox have Josh Beckett pitching tonight-- he's got 19 wins and has pitched far better than that. Problem is, they are going against Scott Kazmir, who is notorious for owning the Red Sox. Plus, Manny, Kevin Youkilis, and Coco Crisp are injured and Ortiz probably won't start. It's gonna have to be Mike Lowell, Jason Varitek, or The Weak-Kneed-Ill-Designed JD Drew who steps up and makes something happen. My money's on Jacoby Ellsbury-- the best minor league player (non-pitcher) I've seen the Sox have since Nomar. I'm actively trying to get my girlfriend to date him-- that's how much I like him. He's freakin super fast, can hit the ball to both sides, and as a bonus, is the first Navajo Native American to make the Majors. That instills faith in me somehow, though I've been told that is racist, but it's the good kind of racist-- I trust the Navajo-- their culture of spirituality and oppression instills a confidence in me. They are a plains people-- swift-footed and keen of sight. Evolution and cultural accoutrements still count. Plus, I got to say accountrements, and that's pretty sweet.

Despite the hardships, I believe the Red Sox WILL win the division. Up until ten minutes ago, I didn't. I knew they'd lose it. But you know what? Eff it. I'm going for it this time, and I think they can pull it off. I've used the "Lost All Hope" reverse voodoo juju too many times-- starting with "There's no way Jeff Frye is going to get a hit" right before his game winning single in some game way back when, all the way up to "Not a chance in hell Julio Lugo is gonna get a hit. This game is over" comeback a couple of weeks ago. For those who don't know, Julio Lugo is about 4 ft. 2 inches, with a look on his face when batting that says, "What's this guy gonna throw me? He's gonna trick me isn't he? I can't believe it-- he's gonna trick me! What's he gonna throw me!?" And yet he hit a home run in the 4-3 loss the the Jays the other night. Anything is possible, that is why sports are incredible and emotional, and worthwhile. Tonight, the Sox play the Devil Rays in the biggest game (but not the only one left) of the season. GO SOX.

Also, watch Friday Night Lights when it comes back on-- it's a great series if you like sports or teen drama at all and it starts back up October 5th. Apparently it's in danger of getting cancelled soon, so support it.

I feel better,
Witz

P.S. Here are some The Onion links involving baseball or the Yankees, which are amusing and cheered me up dramatically:

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/fucking_yankees_reports_nation
http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/left_bed_in_clemens
http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/report_another_baseball
http://www.theonion.com/content/from_print/johnny_damon_probably
http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/slight_breeze_shatters_ken
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/54214
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/53979
http://www.theonion.com/content/from_print/jonathan_papelbons_95_mph

Witz Pickz: The Lost Room, Foam Soap, 3:10 to Yuma

Here are a few pickz for today, none of which make me sound cool:

The Lost Room: a mini-series from the Sci-Fi Channel, The Lost Room did quite well, but obviously lacked the mainstream success ratings to get picked up. The mini-series is complete on its own, but is open ended at the end so it COULD become a regular series if it was picked up. Starring Peter Krause from Six Feet Under and Juliana Margolis from ER Version One Decade One, The Lost Room explores a mystery revolving around a motel room which mysteriously disappeared in 1961. There are objects that have powers scattered around the world that once belonged in the missing room. "The Key" is the object the main character finds and it leads him into the missing room where he can go anywhere he wants from. It sounds kinda ridiculous and lame in explanation, but it was fantastically executed and definitely worth checking out the two dvd's at blockbuster (as long as you can handle the clerk). Plus, since watching it, I like to imagine that their USED TO BE another room in my apartment that somehow became "lost" and THAT'S why I'm paying the absurd amount of money for a tiny one-room (aka "two room minus one lost room") apartment where the "landlord" constantly yells at us for things and never fixes anything (aka "on campus"). You can see how effing nuts some people are about this show HERE.

Foam Soap: I know, I know, welcome to 2007 Witz, but have you tried this stuff? For so long I've avoided washing my hands because it was such a hassle to rub my hands together and create lather, but NOW-- well...NOW I try and wash my hands as often as possible just to feel that velvety softness of the foam soap. I'll bake something ONLY so that I can wash my hands beforehand. Sometimes I wash my hands after a meal, THEN PEE, and then have to wash my hands AGAIN. "Oops." Currently, the best part about foam soap, however, is that I can pretend it comes from The Lost Room and is some magical item I never have to refill-- this is because my girlfriend always buys it and restocks it, so I have no idea where to purchase foam soap, nor how long one bottle usually lasts! Speaking of which-- my hands are getting a little germy from these keys....

3:10 To Yuma: A remake of an older movie (see how that works), I didn't know what I expected going in and yet it definitely wasn't what I expected. It was, however, a really interesting movie, and I left the theater glad that I saw it. Since, I have been thinking about the film more and more, and it has already sparked actual conversation between myself and friends. Starring Christian Bale and Russell Crowe (in his best acting role in years), let me say that 3:10 to Yuma is NOT an action movie. It's an artsy western that explores themes of good/evil, self-respect, love, and morality-- and it's all very well done. Having said that, it's the best slow movie I've seen in years. The film is based on a short story by Elmore Leonard, which was surprising to me, because it felt more like a Cormac McCarthy style, but maybe that's what the director was going for. Regardless, only the ending disappointed me, but I'm not sure that it could have ended in a way that would be satisfying. The ending is in the rest of the film, and not necessary to the piece as a whole. Everything that needs to be taught or seen happens beforehand, and therefore is a letdown when something is shown. If The Sopranos hadn't pissed off millions of viewers, I think this one might have ended similarly, and, in this case, it would have worked. Check it out and let me know what you think. Also, read what this other guy named John thinks.

That's all for this fine Thursday, some funny, some info, and some ways to spend your money.

Please Please Please let the Red Sox Sweep The Devil Rays,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Compassionivore

An omnivore by species, I have always thoroughly enjoyed meat. Recently, I've occasionally replaced normal products for vegetarian or vegan products just because I wanted to, not because I stopped eating meat or animal products. I've been having some veggie sandwhiches instead of turkey, veggie burgers instead of hamburgers, soy milk instead of regular milk. It doesn't mean anything, it's just a fact. Recently, while out to dinner with a friend (with his business paying), I tried a new kind of meat: veal. IT WAS DELICIOUS! Granted, it was stuffed with mozzarella and ricotta cheese and topped with an amazing broth, but the meat was tendera and flavored and delicious. I felt, however, a little odd, and I felt a little odd because I like the fact that I eat about three and a half animals (chicken, turkey, cow, and very occasionally pork), and was not happy about adding DEER to the list. I'm not one of those people who is excited to try new meats like buffalo or rabbit or duck or armadillo, or goat. I like the big three and a half. So imagine my great joy and sense of freedom when I found out that VEAL is not VENISON as I'd been thinking in my head, but actually BABY COW!

"Oh, thank goodness! I thought I was eating deer, but this ended up just being baby cow!"
"Yeah, but it's a BABY COW!"
"So?"
"So it's like eating a baby."
"Not a real baby-- a cow baby."
"Still a baby."
"Nuh-uh. A real baby watches The Doodlebops and sleeps spread eagle in her parent's lap."
"Oh, you think you're all hot to trot on baby knowledge just because your friends had their baby, Tova."
"Maybe."
"So what is this really, like a shout out to Tova?"
"Kind of, I guess...whaddup Tova?"
"And how could they name their baby Tova in a post-Jay Z world anyway??"
"They didn't know about Hova."
"They didn't KNOW about H to the Izzo?"
"I guess not-- the lyrics were beyond them. The word puzzle was too much."
"Or maybe they just spend more time working and less time listening to pop radio and shopping than you do."
"Who are you anyway? Who is this other person/voice? In the words of truth.com, whadafxup?"
"Fine. Be that way-- ((ahem)) a baby cow would too watch the Doodlebops if given the chance."
"That's more like it-- ((ahem)) No it wouldn't. That's not their way. They would only be bored and have the days drag on and on until we finally--"

AHA! And there it is. Baby cows only do one thing-- grow up to be regular cows. And REGULAR cows are packed side by side into stalls and warehouses waiting to be slaughtered. And then they DO get slaughtered. SO WHAT KIND OF A LIFE IS THAT?? AND HOW LONG do they actually grow up for anyway? I realized that by eating baby cows, I am doing the cow a favor. I am saving them a life of horrors even though they don't know it yet. I am being compassionate. Which is why I have figured out a NEW form of consumer-- a Compassionivore. A compassionivore eats only baby animals and other vegetarian products. The problem is, I can't think of other baby animals that we eat. Do we eat baby chickens? Baby pigs? Baby Ahi Ahi Tuna? Not that I know of. Which makes it weird that we eat baby cows (but less weird since I know how delicious they are). So maybe compassionivores need to step up and start eating more young. Break into the chicken farmery and eat all the baby chickens. Break into the turkey hut and eat some young lithe turkeys. Eat a fawn, shit, I dunno. I guess technically this means baby seal meat is back on the table, but maybe it'd make more sense to club and eat the baby seal HUNTERS since their lives are probably wracked with misery and guilt (and probably some emotional disconnect from the world or at least baby seals...which is just as bad). Compassionivore's rise up and momentarily be a fad, the time is now.

Wi to the tizzle, Z to the comma
Witz

Witz Pickz: Worst Blockbuster Clerk EVER!

I've been around long enough to learn the accepted norms of clerk/customer interaction. I've bought my food, rented my movies, ordered my BK and Burgermaster, accepted my airline peanuts, checked my savings balance, paid the pizza delivery guy, and awkwardly stood by while some guy pumped gas into my car (you are a confusing beast, Oregon gas pumping laws). And all of the interactions, while different, generally followed the same procedure-- me being treated like a customer, and the clerk acting like a clerk-- even if they weren't happy about it.

So you can imagine all the cultural and social learning I had to get past to figure out what the hell was going on at Blockbuster the other night. I was waiting in line like normal to rent my last The Lost Room dvd (to be picked soon), while the clerk helped a woman get a new blockbuster account. The line grew and grew while we waited, and another clerk came over to help. The first one took a look at the line and then said, "Nah, don't worry about it, I've got it," and turned his attention back to the woman filling out the application.

This should have been my first clue.

Slightly confused, I figured the woman must almost be done. So we all waited. And waited.

"I don't have a credit card right now," the woman said.
"Oh, that's alright, just show it next time, I'll just look at your driver's license now." says clerk.

This should have been my second clue. This man was not going by the book-- he was wingin' it. Freelancing, perhaps? I became wary as I wondered if this man was also some kind of bounty hunter, and by seeing a driver's license, he could track down and demand payment from anyone in the state...or beyond...it'd be surprising given his slim, one might say, awkwardly The Machinist looking thin, frame, but I guess it was possible. Do bounty hunters work day jobs until they get good enough? I guess I never thought about it before, but are there nearly enough bounties out these days for the hunters to all collect? And how many are half-vampire? The whole thing confuses me.

The guy finally finished up with the lady, she headed out, and the next woman in line was ready to go when-- The pointer finger came out. No words, just one finger held up to indicate "Wait." The clerk hops on the phone and sounds like he's talking to someone important. It goes on for a bit, but when he finally hangs up, he says, "Alright, then I'll swing by around 12 and I'll bring the xbox 360." And then he glanced at us like he was the fucking champ. And he might have been, but it was not the time or the place. I started getting my annoyed on, as I am wont to do in such situations, when he said it:

"Yeah, come on," he tells the girl who's been waiting-- like she's ruining his night. Like he didn't just make a personal phone call and tell another clerk not to help us. "Yeah, come on." This is when it hits me. The clerk has absolutely NO RESPECT for us customers. We are not there to give his company money. We are there to keep him from his night of BioShock or Halo 2 (to prep for Halo 3), or Gears of War. He has kids in Lansing, Michigan lined up to get their asses handed to them via Madden '08, Monster Storm, and Splinter Cell. We are just lame, one-directional entertainment fools who need to see their movies, television dvd's, or completely inexplicably even to me, purchase their "The Number 23", "Red Line", and "Ghost Rider" DVD's three for 20 dollars. He's the man and he has no respect for people like us.

The girl goes up to rent the DVD's and this is when The Clerk takes things to the next level.

"I don't have a card, but I have my ID and my parents have an account." Right. We know this method. For years, with your ID and family account, it has been possible to rent movies. Only-

"Your family's account doesn't have your name on it, so you can't use it without their permission." Blank looks all around.

"Oh. Really? I thought....I usually use it...."
"Are they here in the store?"
"No, but-- Ok, well, I'll just come back another time."
"Are your parents home?" None of us are quite sure what's going on, but we're getting uncomfortable. The girl is probably 16-18 years old and mildly attractive.
"Uhh, yeah..." The clerk picks up the phone.
"What's the number?"
"What?"
"Are they awake?"
"I dunno..." It's ten o' clock on a thursday.
"Well, what's the number, I can call them and ask for permission."
"Uh, that's ok. Thanks.
"It's not a problem, I mean, I can call them and just ask if it's ok..."

WHOAH BUDDY! DON'T BE A HERO! First of all, WHO DOES THAT?? The line is growing longer by the minute, he's already complicated the process for her, but now he wants to CALL UP HER PARENTS AND ASK IF IT'S OK?? They weren't even R rated movies, it was like Blades of Glory and Bridge To Tarabithia or something. BUT CALL HER PARENTS? It's ten o' clock on a thursday. I wouldn't even call some of my closest friends' houses at ten o' clock on a thursday, let alone some stranger to ask if their daughter, who clearly should be in bed so she can go to school the next day, can rent some movies. Plus, he came off a little flirtatious, which was odd under all the circumstances, but especially because of his former hating of us all. Which brings me to this:

Know your creepy level. Everybody has one. Maybe it's reallllly high and obvious or maybe it's reallllly low and subtle. But you have one. This guy was probably an 8.4 (out of 10). Most people probably fall around 3 or 4 (which means the scale maybe doesn't need to go to 10, and should be adjusted so the median number is the median creepy). Some people are sneaky creepy-- like you think they look all clean cut and nice and do good things, but then they are, like, the only one in the theater who laughs at the snuff film scene in "8mm" (and this is not only because they were the only ones in the theater to see 8mm, they probably got more obvious creepy points for that). This guy was not sneaky creepy-- he was regular creepy. The hair, the eyes, the brows, the body, the voice. Needless the say, the girl left pretty quickly.

"Whatever," he says, and The Clerk is back on his game. Now it's my turn.

"Hi," I say, setting down my The Lost Room Disc 2 DVD.
"Have you seen the first part of this?" he asks, without any context.
"I think so, I mean, I watched the first two parts on television, so I don't exactly know where disc 1 cuts off, but I think so..." I look up and realize that he's been staring blankly at me for about 90% of my sentence.
"Most people just don't know there's a first disc. So, we make sure they do know, which you seem to know, even if you haven't gotten it." Maybe there are cameras watching, recording him and listening to see if he breaks policy, but it was still really awkward to hear. I think about pointing out that in the future he might want to ask if I know that it is a two DVD set and I have the SECOND disc, instead of have I seen it which sounds like an insider fan's question, but I don't see the point. I mean, what can you say to that, really, so I just smile and nod a little. The rest of the transaction takes place in silence until,

"This will be due back next thursday-- bye."
"Thanks." and then,

"Yeah, alright, come on," to the next customer-- completely serious, full of condescension, waiting for midnight, when his job turns into a Giant Pumpkin and he can play Guitar Hero II into the wee hours of the night.

Only Now Realizing I Will Probably See Him Again,
Witz