Don't Sass Me, Fuckstick

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How old do you think Wilford Brimley is? Seriously ask yourself. I've been reviewing documents to see if they're responsive to our the-law-firm-at-which-I-work's protective order while thinking about guzzling bottles of white-out from the supply room and ending it all. Well, not really. I get through these kinds of tasks with the aid of Hulu, Netflix's Watch Instantly function, and This American Life podcasts. Today, I've been catching up on a backlog of Colbert Report episodes, and he just now mentioned Wilford Brimley -- in the present tense. And I thought didn't Wilford Brimley die years ago? I looked him up on the Wikipedia, and not only is he very much alive, he's only 73. While that's not young per se, I would've put him in his late 80's, easy.

But it turns out he was only 59 when The Firm came out -- which co-starred Gene Hackman, who is almost 5 years older than him - and 51 when Cocoon came out -- which co-starred Don Ameche and Hume Cronyn, both of whom, were they alive today, would be about 100. Now, I didn't watch Cocoon, but wasn't Wilford Brimley supposed to be old as shit like those guys in the movie? Hasn't he looked old as shit ever since we were kids and Quaker Oats was the right thing to do? I think there's a really compelling argument against mustaches and oatmeal to be made here.

Time to Get Rid of Those Zubaz Pants

Morgan Freeman Before Shawshank Blew Him Up - Watch more free videos

So, I went and saw this charming, little sleeper film the other day called The Dark Knight. I totally think it's going to be this year's My Big Fat Greek Juno. Anyway, it was visually arresting, refreshingly morbid, totally unapologetic about its misanthropy, a morally complex allegory for our post-FISA society, yadda yadda yadda...But one thing that really bothered me about the movie is the part when Bruce Wayne asks Lucius for a new suit, and he quips, "Yes, 3 buttons is a little 90's, Mr. Wayne." I own two, three-button suits and until that moment I totally thought they were stylish, but now Morgan Freeman has called me out. I bought my first three-button suit like ten years ago. I am Bruce Wayne. Now I guess I better get busy dying or get busy living and do a little fashion updating. Meanwhile let's all enjoy a little jive talk and timeless fashions, courtesy of Morgan Freeman and The Electric Company.

pandas to distract you from my secret shame

ooh, this is a good game - the telegraph of london asked authors which Great Books they were ashamed to admit they had never read. since that list would be MUCH too long, i'm going to present a less literary (and more new york magazine-y) version. at the risk of alienating the entire readership (i.e., c4ts), here is a list of Great Pop Cultural, uh, Things which i've not read/seen/heard:

• the wire - yes, i admit it! bayrex, i'm sorry. i made it to episode 3 of season 1. i will have to return the DVDs to you.
  
• sonic youth - pioneers, vanguard, forefather/mothers, etc. don't care.
• none of the russians (y'know, tolstoy, dostoevsky, chekhov, etc.) - i said that to someone once and he asked, "not even nabokov?" i dunno, i tend to not include him. am i wrong on this?
• big lebowski - everyone freaking fell all over themselves when this movie came out. i dunno, i don't get it. something about bowling or something.
  

anyway, if you have a Pop Cultural Shame, do let me know so that i don't feel so alone. and pedestrian.

separated at birth - the genocide edition

aw fuck it, i can't get the formatting right. you get my drift.

Estelle Getty, 1923 - 2008

Rose: Sophia, is that a Captain Jack's Seafood Shanty uniform?

Sophia: No, Rose. I'm off to discover the Straits of Magellan. Yo ho!

Disorientalism

Hello, betrayed blog-reading community. Without even the indignity of a break-up post-it -- look, E, I made a Sex and the City reference -- I left you for sootier, developing-worldlier pastures. But I'm back.

Sugarpockets and I took a very unrelaxing trip to Pakistan (with detours in Hong Kong and Bangkok) to attend my sister's wedding and to catch up with extended family. There is much to be said about our adventures, but I should probably seize my jet-lag-jump-started day and head to work soon. So I will say only this: It's good to be back, though strangely not at all disorienting.

I last went to Pakistan in 2002, and in the previous six years the reach of globalized brands has extended far and wide across the Karachi and Lahore urban landscapes. The blue-chip brands had long ago made their mark in the Pakistani marketplace, but now lower market companies-- like Papa John's and Clarks -- have come to the fore. Of course, Lahore has always been a branded city -- Pepsi and Coca-Cola have waged an advertising war there for years -- but the presence of these new brands has given the place a new and more noticeably western sheen. In the past, at least Pepsi and Coke made attempts to transliterate their logos into Urdu. But in the current wave of branding, all logos look like they've been exported straight from the Paramus Park Mall. While it's one thing to go to Pakistan and find knockoff Izod polo shirts, it's quite another--and it's vaguely unsettling--to see an official Lacoste store in Clifton in Karachi. Couple this increased multi-national presence with the fact that everyone--everyone from Karachi to Lahore to Bangkok to Hong Kong to Kowloon is talking about Obama and The Dark Knight--coming home doesn't seem strange at all.

what could be better than puppies?

c4ts, not sure if you're back from your vacation yet, but i have made the most wonderful discovery ever.

you can watch every episode of family freaking ties on the internets! well, okay, so only the first 4 seasons. i think that should keep you busy for a while at least. i'm so freaking excited i can't even deal.

and you were right, btw.

visages of the times

i don't have anything to add to this post because it is just that hilarious.

careless whispers

omg, whilst speaking with heidi last night she reminded me that i hadn't posted in almost a month (egads!!) and that she has begun reading OTHER BLOGS for entertainment. such things are forbidden! i have to admit i've not been as inspired of late, but that photo was something else.

anyway, here's what's news.

c4ts texted me a while back to let me know that he'd seen some dude from real world new york (the first round) in his oakland neighborhood. true confession - i've actually never seen any episodes from that season, although, of course, i know who eric nies is. oh wait, is he from LA? anyway, i know he's from the real world and that's all that matters. and then it came out that some dude from the real world is running for congress! of course, i read this as "different world" and thought, hell, this ain't dwayne wayne.

not much has been going on. i don't care to really weigh in on the "is obama not left enough" debate bc as far as i'm concerned, stevens and probably ginsburg will either retire/die and i sure don't want mccain at the helm when that happens. i think this gail collins editorial sums up my views in general on this pointless (as far as i'm concerned) debate. hey green party supporters, good luck with that.

oh yes, c4ts, here is a news roundup:

• sienna miller is now with balthazar getty, who i only remember as some pudgy slash washed-out actor from the 90s, but turns out is actually an heir to the getty oil fortune. he drinks her milkshakes. or something. he has 4 kids. and i believe is still married. gross.
• seems that nobody enjoyed the c-rod/a-rod/madonna/lenny kravitz love quadrangle as much as i did. nonetheless, here's an infographic summing up what you missed.
• i also enjoyed the christie brinkley/peter cook madness, but it was pretty seamy.
  
• and do you remember that awesome show "dear john" starring judd hirsch? bc it turns out my sisters and i are the only ones who do.
  

Music Video of the Day: Tilly and the Wall's "Beat Control"

If, back in the day, Keith Haring impregnated Gloria Estefan in a vat of toxic stew, composed of discarded I Love the 80's video footage and neon spandex, this video is what would result.

Famous for DC

While I didn't grow up blowing rails with Brian Austin Green and Mark-Paul Gosselaar in a bathroom stall everyday at Beverly Hills High, I can imagine how, if you did, that just might be part of your daily routine--living. loving, being in LA.

Instead, I grew up in DC, and DC is like Hollywood, but instead of the silicon-breasted and cranially empty, we have the poorly tailored and terminally wonkish. As such, our celebrity sightings aren't quite as exciting. For instance, I once saw Colin Powell buying produce at the grocery store. Another time, I waited for the Metro with David Broder. These things kind of just happen, and when they do, you think about telling someone, but then, you sort of lose momentum. Yeah, whoah, David Broder waits for the Metro--he's just like me. (Except he's even older and more decrepit than you'd think.)

Part of the problem with seeing famous-for-DC types is that in the end, you never catch them doing anything incongruous, anything mundane, at least, compared to what they would be doing otherwise. When Colin Powell isn't buying groceries, he's sitting at a desk, reading intelligence prepared by some middling hack who can't speak Arabic and probably doesn't know the difference between a Sunni and a Shia. Big whoop. But if you see Brian Austin Green blowing rails in the bathroom--or, better yet--if you're doing it with him, you're participating in the devil-may-care, party-all-the-time lifestyle of hip young Hollywood. In a way, you've kind of made it.

Or if you see Mark Wahlberg at Jamba Juice, you're all like, whoah, Mark Wahlberg doesn't just blow rails in his Calvin Kleins at the Playboy Mansion. He's. Just. Like. Me. He's totally into the Aloha Pineapple too.

Anyway, this is all a roundabout way of saying that while I've grown accustomed to being disinterested in the political and media types who traverse my old burg, never, never ever, did I expect Tim Russert's corpse--okay, just his casket--to be put on display in my old school cafeteria. His second to last resting place, the somber site of his public mourning, is the same black-wood-paneled room a sadistic Mr. Kennedy once made me eat apple pie out of the trash can. That learned me good for getting up out of my seat without asking permission!

God speed you Tim Russert! I don't know why our self-obsessed media vortex is covering your death like you were Nelson Mandela, but still, you seemed like a nice guy. I hope the beef stew in heaven tastes better than the kind Dolly and Mr. Dunne used to make.

hockey night in canada

it's not exactly news to disclose that i often fantasize about exit strategies.

well, a convergence like this one happens, oh i dunno, never in a lifetime. it turns out cbc sold the song for reasons that i don't understand (nor care to - you can listen to the original song here). i knew my parents forced me to play piano all those years for some reason. finally, a purpose in life! considering the strength of the canadian dollar i better find a canadian resident on whose behalf to submit my entry.

btw, did you see this interview? i dare you to not tear up at least a little.

sadness

well, this is depressing.

tim russert was more than the affable yet incisive host of meet the press. i was in such shock over this news that my officemate thought a friend of mine had died. i admired him for a host of reasons, like how he managed to draw great pride and comfort from his working-class roots, instead of abandoning them altogether or letting them fester into ruinous resentment and paranoia. he bridged the two worlds and made it look so easy. he also was on that coveted and elusive list of people with JDs who are not lawyers.

anyway...this is too sad. RIP, tim russert.

gocanada

two big canadian events today:

1) the greatest hockey player ever (at least to me) retired. this guy was my idol growing up - he wasn't the flashiest or the most dominant, but he always gave it his all. this was especially evident in the 7th game of the '94 stackley cup playoffs, when flash-in-the-pan pavel bure (who inexplicable beat out nicklas lidstrom for the calder trophy) completely choked while trevor linden scored 2 goals.

trevor, thanks for 20 years. you make me feel very old.

2) in a monumental move, canadian prime minister stephen harper apologized to the first nations people of canada. i wrote a very shoddy paper on this subject in law school. yeah yeah, i also submitted the paper 2 years after the deadline. that's not the focus here.

essentially, the canadian government, in conjunction with the anglican church, removed first nations (native) children from their homes and put them in "residential schools" in rural areas all across canada all for the the goal of assimilating or, to put it less politely, "kill[ing] the indian in the child." most of the children were sexually and/or physically abused. even those who somehow managed to escape such abuse were hardly educated, and forced into hard labor in these cold rural schools. if i remember my research correctly, i believe the last school was closed some time in the 1970s.

yes, the 1970s.

unfortunately, there has been some "residential school" fatigue among canadians since this has been in the news for decades now. nonetheless, the government created a compensation fund for the victims and a truth and reconciliation commission will conduct further studies on the lasting impact of these schools. now only if the japanese would issue a proper apology and some fracking compensation to the comfort women...

A Good and Decent Man

RFK died 40 years ago today. This is Ted Kennedy's eulogy of him, set to some shamelessly maudlin music.