I also toyed with calling this week's installment "Eff you, Irene" (you're welcome, Holly). Yes, if you're reading this on Saturday, you'll recognize this is an EARLY blog post. That's because I'm working Sunday morning because of this "frightening" hurricane that's now a Category ONE (as of Saturday, 8/26, 4am)...oooo, scarrrry. Now, don't get me wrong. When this storm was forecast as barrelling right at Charlotte (where I live) back on Tuesday, I was a little concerned. I don't do well with watersports, but I was ready to buy a kayak in case the water made it to my 2nd-floor apartment. But now, it's not going to do anything to my neck of the woods. I just stepped outside and felt a solid breeze, but that's it. Yet the local media insists on extended coverage of the storm that no one here gives a shit about...unless they have beachfront property, which, in that case, fuck them. So the storm is expected to make landfall here in a little while, then head north to New York where people are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. To be clear, I DO understand that the city was built on a harbor of the ocean and any hurricane problems could cause a soggy Big Apple. But New York has already freaked out once this week for something that wasn't major: an east coast earthquake. Yes, a 5.8 earthquake hit Virginia this week and spread outward. My co-workers in Charlotte felt it. I did not. I was disappointed as I really wanted to feel a tame earthquake, just to say I had felt it. The quake also spread to New York, where video footage this week showed people "escaping disaster" by heading TO THE ROOF OF 30 ROCK! Are you guys fucking kidding me??? You DO understand gravity, right? I know it's a long way down to street-level for some of you...and if any buildings fall into the street, you're dead...but if you're on the TOP of a TALL BUILDING when something SHAKES IT or BRINGS IT DOWN, there's a good chance you WILL PLUMMET TO YOUR DEATH (see also 9/11/01). Perhaps your building's disaster plan should be fine-tuned. Fortunately, no one died in this week's quake, but the Washington Monument has some cracks in it, so it's going to be extracted and replaced with a wooden monument. (what...no one reading this blog studies history? COME ON! I'm trying to make a clean historical joke about George Washington's wooden dentures!)
One thing I AM excited about is the bevy (great word) of new words in Merriam-Webster's dictionary this week. Keep in mind, this is different than the Oxford English Dictionary's annual list of new words. Merriam-Webster is just catching up. An example of how far behind the old M-W is: they just added "cougar." Seriously? Cougars have been in the lexicon for YEARS! Also added: bromance, which has been around as long as Matt Damon and Ben Affleck have been sleeping together "working on movies together." Also: duathlon. Really? How has THIS not been in the dictionary? I would've thought it would be listed in the "see also" section under TRIathlon. How about this one: parkour. Yes, parkour, James Hartsell. The internet fad of the early 2000s is FINALLY making it into the dictionary, now that it's no longer relevant. Way to go, Merriam (and don't you go trying to blame Webster for this one!). Honestly, the only word the dictionary's adding that's TRULY relevant right now is the same one that makes me want to burn every copy of the dictionary I own: tweet. Merriam-Webster, see also "How I Feel About Hurricane Irene." Dicks.
Hello, Hard Thinkers. Thanks for joining us this week, but I'll have to make this fast. I REALLY want to book a flight to Asia on an airline called Cathay Pacific. The airline is in the middle of a major scandal in which pictures were leaked (no pun intended) of a flight attendant giving a pilot oral sex mid-flight. But hey, we're classy here at Thinking Hard, so instead of JUST showing you pictures of the incident, we're going to show you the amazing Taiwanese computer animation re-enactment (this IS safe-ish for work, but you might decide to hold off until you're in a public library, just to be safe):
(That is SO much more amusing in a foreign language.) Also, in case you were curious, the airline DOES have a frequent flyer program...they call it Marco Polo. Most. Interesting game of Marco Polo. Ever.
Hey, a recap from last week...Stephen Colbert sold his Rick Parry (the "A" is for America...yes, he and I both know Rick's last name is spelled P-E-R-R-Y) campaign ad to my old station in Des Moines...and then the bosses at my old station decided not to run with the ad. Obviously this sat well with Colbert, who made fun of the station for mentioning the ad for FREE during a newscast AND calling out reporter Katie Eastman for her "news story" about a large yard sale. Well, now Colbert wants Eastman to join his cause and some posters on her Facebook page also want her to join in the fun. I should warn Ms. Eastman...WOI is NOT a station where any kind of fun can be had. I guarantee if she responds in any way, she'll be canned. So Colbert also decided to call out the station's GM, Ray Cole:
I tell you, this is the most PR WOI has gotten in the past 20 years. Down side: no one there is smart enough to use it correctly. (but to be fair, it is GREAT to see John Walters say "My bad" on Colbert!) Seriously, I'm shocked as shit to see the management allowed the news team to do the Colbert segment.
While we're talking about politics, let's touch on the second-place winner in the Ames Straw Poll. What's that? You say you DON'T know who that is because NO ONE talked about him this week? Here, let me help:
I'm not even a republican, but I think that's almost as ridiculous as a politician showing up to do an interview about a new book, but is completely unprepared to talk about ANYTHING in that book:
O'Donnell's response for walking off Morgan's show: it was borderline sexual harassment. Classy. You're right, Christine, you're not a witch. You're a bitch.
One of the biggest questions I get is "Blaine, why do you insist on wearing your underwear OUTSIDE of your clothes?" It's because I'm Batman...shhh, don't tell anyone. Another of the big questions I get is "Blaine, what did you do before Thinking Hard and working in the unseasonably warm city of Charlotte, North Carolina?" Good question. Before I moved here, I lived in Louisville, Kentucky, home of the Kentucky Derby (and let me tell you, if you want to see a bunch of people flashing their chests...including some GUYS...go to the infield of the Kentucky Derby). But before then, I worked in my hometown of Des Moines, Iowa. I worked for the perpetual number 3 TV station. Higher management there had some...um...issues. So I wasn't completely horrified when I escaped. I figured I'd never have to hear about my old station ever again. And just when I was lulled into a false sense of security, they went and did something stupid: they made it on The Colbert Report...
(For the record, John Walters and Brad Edwards have been there forever and are two of the most personable on-air talents I have ever enjoyed working with...any other on-air talent that worked there when I did has jumped ship. Good for them.) And even though it SEEMS like Colbert is satirizing the station's news content with a story about a garage sale, it's entirely accurate. I'm glad to see things haven't changed much in my absence.
While we're glossing over the massive stock market movements over the past week, let's continue our look at the Iowa Straw Poll. The state has hosted the unusual pre-voting forum for years as a way to draw more people to the state in the middle of August, where the only real draw is deep fried (insert your favorite dessert or condiment here) on a stick. Buncha fatties walking around the Iowa State Fair, I tell you what. But the straw poll means dick. Much like the Iowa Caucuses, where Hillary Clinton won before the 2008 election...congratulations, President Pantsuit...what?...what do you mean "didn't win"? Well, while Rick Perry/Parry skipped the Straw Poll, Michele Bachmann won it. Perhaps you've seen her major cover photo on Newsweek:
I'd buy the issue and frame it, but I'm a little concerned it would frighten small children. You might also remember Bachmann's husband claims he can "fix" gay people. To that end, there's been discussion this week that popular Sesame Street characters Bertram and Ernest (adding a little class to the show, I see) should get married. NO! Uh-uh! And it's not because of the whole gay marriage issue (which I support...why not let gays and lesbians be as miserable as heterosexual married couples and NOT go cranking out a shitload of unnecessary children). It's because it's already been done. You might have heard about a bawdy little Broadway puppet musical called "Avenue Q." In it, two puppets named Rod and Nicky (who are similar to Bert and Ernie) find love with each other. In fact, when New York approved same-sex marriages, the puppets got married on the first day! So, Bert and Ernie, your shark has already been jumped. Better find some new schtick that makes you one-of-a-kind. Like NOT wearing turtleneck sweaters, Bert.
Finally, if you're familiar with me or this blog, you know how much I LOATHE Twitter. If ever there was a complete waste of space, it would be a tie for first place between Twitter and Thinking Hard (thanks for reading). But I DO enjoy good humor. That said, if you are indeed a Twitter-er...er... might I suggest following the user @Channel11News. It's a completely fictional account and it's funny for anyone who's ever seen those ridiculous "What's in your water COULD kill you!" commercials. Highlights include:
"Stories we're working on: Summer's best fruit salad recipe. Also, the area man who can't stop killing robins." (I have a Robyn I'd like that guy to meet)
"We'll take you inside a kindergarten classroom where the kids are learning telemarketing and light welding. What's your stance?"
Personally, I think child telemarketers would be easier to hang up on.
You wake up in a dark room. You don't remember much, except that you'd been excited to see that the federal government passed a deal this week to raise the debt ceiling...then the Dow Jones plummeted 500 points Thursday...THEN Standard & Poor's downgraded the U.S. credit rating (which is what some analysts said would happen anyway since the government needed the ceiling raised by FOUR trillion dollars and the debt plan only called for about TWO trillion). So you went out and drank away your financial woes. Now you're here...laying on the floor in this dark room.
Do you...
a. feel around for a light switch to see where you are?
b. call out to the darkness and see if anyone responds?
c. roll back over and go back to sleep?
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a. Feel around for a light switch.
You start stumbling around like an idiot, hoping you don't accidentally fall on something sharp as you grope around the room. Then you accidentally hit a mug full of hot coffee...
Now you've done it. The hot coffee spilled on a napping guard armed with a Taser. He shocks you. You are dead.
THE END
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b. Call out to the darkness.
You call out to the darkness, hoping someone, ANYONE, will hear your crys for help. Suddenly, several armed police officers rush in with their guns all trained on one spot...you. You beg and plead for them to explain what's going on. One officer says "So, you thought you could commit a crime...and then take suspicion off yourself by REPORTING on the crime on local television news:"
You try to explain it's just a coincidence that has happened before, but the police don't believe you. You spend the next 10 to 20 years in a small confined space learning exactly how Bubba "likes it" (which, by the way, is "start slow and romantic, then get dirty and loud").
THE END
-------------------------------
c. Roll back over and go back to sleep.
You briefly consider getting up to explore, but you realize your situation probably will not change in the next few hours (whatever it is that happened to you) and you REALLY need to sleep off that hangover. As you roll over and drift back to dreamland, your hand brushes against your stomach and feels a couple of freshly-stitched areas about where your kidneys would be. For an instant, you remember a beautiful young woman coming to speak to you at the bar. She told you she was a motocross rider...which you thought seemed ridiculous because of the last time you saw women on a motocross track:
The images of women on dirtbikes falling all over the place make you smile as you fall back asleep. The detectives who find your body later see your smile and think maybe you died in the middle of making love. Guess you fooled them.
