Akie and I faced off about the guiltily popular show in this week’s Perpetual Post– read his side of the story here.
My significant other is working and putting himself through school, which means that for ten months out of the year, he is madly busy. However, during these last six weeks, he found himself working only part-time (thanks, economy!) during his summer break. It was the perfect time for us to have lazy, lay-about weekends together. It was the perfect time for him to experiment with facial hair and practice napping on the couch with the dog. It was the perfect time for us to discover Heroes.
You see, now that we lack cable (thanks, economy!) but have Instant Netflix (it beams right into your home! You don’t even have to put on pants to go to the mailbox!) I’ve discovered that I really like watching television series in lieu of movies. You can watch them in bite-sized increments, so if you have only 40 minutes to kill, you watch one episode; if you have 4 hours to waste, you watch more. It’s easy to get hooked on a series and just as easy to forget about it and walk away when it’s over. Plus if you’re lucky, they’re still making new seasons of it, so you have something to look forward to. In this manner over the last few months we’ve put away every available season of Weeds, Mad Men, and Dexter, all with sexy results.
Having exhausted many of the shows that premium channels like HBO and Showtime have to offer (since I’m too much of a delicate flower to try Oz), it seemed only natural for us to move on to the lower-budget, commercial-break-riddled joys of basic cable shows.
When considering what to watch next, I toyed briefly with the idea of Lost, but I’d heard one too many horror stories of people who sat down to “just watch the beginning” of Lost. They tended to disappear for weeks at a time and reemerge pale, pudgy and pretentious. If I’m ever put on six months of bed rest, I will seek the abyss that will at that point be thirty seasons of Lost. This summer I was in the mood for much lighter fare. Heroes it was!
Now, at this point Heroes has been on for a few years, and is old news for most. I had also heard over and over that The First Season of Heroes Was Good but After That it Really Went Downhill. So I figured we’d watch Season 1 for a couple of weeks and then move on to something else.
In the beginning things went according to plan. The premise of the show was not particularly original, but it was fairly well-executed, and the many sub-plots drew us in. It was also fun to watch celebrities who have since become household names in the early stages of their careers. Plus there was time-travel, sexy people and super-powers. It was perfect summer junk TV!
But by the time the end of Season 1 rolled around, we couldn’t resist. Season 2 was right there in our queue! Thanks to the writer’s strike that had been going on at the time, it was only about ten episodes long! Maybe it wasn’t as bad as everyone said! After all, it had all the same characters, even if it did add some new annoying ones. And it was right there in our queue! We succumbed.
I stopped telling everyone I was still watching Heroes. Maybe it’s because I was ashamed that I had moved on to The Not As Good Season. The ‘2 Fast 2 Furious’ Season of Heroes. And all right, all right, so Season 2 was not that good. It was still fun! Superheroes still flew around and time-traveled and ranted about saving the world! Sylar still went back and forth between thinking he was an irrevocably evil and a misunderstood soul who could change. Claire’s father continued being not quite a good guy but not quite a bad guy and saying, “I love you, Claire-Bear” every nine minutes because he thought he was about to die. Milo Ventimiglia continued to talk out of one side of his mouth like a blowfish after a stroke. The universe of Heroes was more or less unchanged. A little less well-written, a little more formulaic, but still—pure serial entertainment!
And Season 3? Hell yes, we sat there and watched all of Season 3 with the same attention we’d given to Seasons 1 & 2. And it was more of the same, just a little more not as good! Still not really living up to the promises made in Season 1; a bit more farfetched and still a little less well-written than either of the previous seasons, it was still a fun television experience.
I’m not going to come out and say that we shouldn’t expect quality in our shows. Of course we should. But is every series a Mad Men? Does every show have to be top-shelf? Can’t we have some fun with a guilty-pleasure series once in awhile? Everyone claimed they stopped watching Heroes after Season 1, and I’m here to tell you, I think everyone lied.
Chris Pummer and I took on the Armstrong v. Contador Tour de France controversy in this week’s Perpetual Post.
My side is here:
Is it too much to ask for heroic and world-class athletes to spend three weeks participating in one of the most grueling races in the world without behaving as though they are appearing in an episode of Dynasty? One almost expects Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador to scratch each other’s eyes out, throw drinks in each other’s faces, and tumble down a spiral staircase in silken dressing gowns as the finale. (Actually, I would totally love that).
But really, Contador. Do you want to go down in history as “The Man Who Won The 2009 Tour de France”? Because the way you talk, you’re fast becoming “The Man Who Won The 2009 Tour de France, No Thanks To That Jerk Lance Armstrong, Seriously What Is With That Guy Anyway?” If that’s the way you’d like it to go down, so be it. But I would think you’d want to keep a little more of that sweet, sweet Tour-Winning publicity to yourself. Every time interviewers ask you about your experiences and you bring Armstrong into the picture, it takes the focus off of you.
Why not talk about how it felt to finally win? Mention your adoring fans and how their support meant everything to you. Discuss the steamy naked SmartWater billboard you’re in talks to shoot or the amusing cooking segment you just did on Good Morning America. Talk about anything but your overblown rivalry with Lance Armstrong. You know he’s just going to retort with a scathing Tweet!
Granted, both of you have great super-villain names. When you talk about each other, I picture each of you standing on a mountaintop in a thunderstorm shaking a fist skyward and howling:
“Arrrrrmstroooooong!”
“Contadooooorrr!”
But even that image is not amusing enough to stop me from losing patience with your childish antics. I may be a layman, but even I grasp that the Tour de France is a race in which each team of riders are supposed to work together toward the common goal of helping one of their own win. In this most recent race, Armstrong and Contador, on the same team, fought neck in neck for much of the time, jostling each other for the winning position and trying to take control of the race. How confusing this must have been for everyone involved; how frustrating for the other team members. That bad energy, coupled with the alleged sniping between the two champion riders throughout the race, must have made this Tour de France really, really, extra…hard.
See, that’s the thing. The Tour de France is HARD. Even when all of the teammates are working in tandem like a well-oiled, leg-muscled machine, they’re still biking umpteen miles through France, Spain and Italy, day after day for 3 weeks straight. This race is already one of the hardest competitions in the world. As someone who is winded and calls it a day after twenty minutes on a stationary bike, I am mentally incapable of imagining how hard the Tour de France has got to be even on a good day. So if you’re starting with an impossibly hard race, which everyone knows is impossibly hard to begin with, and you complain to the media that there was something going on that made it even HARDER this time, do you look like a hero? No. You look like a whiner.
So it was hard? Harder than you expected? A little more competitive than you’d bargained for? Of course it was hard! Of course it was competitive! It’s a competition! It’s not the Tour de Friendship and Holding Hands!
But suck it up! You won! Do a little dance! Loosen up, pull the bike seat out of your ass! Go hang out with Michael Phelps, if you know what I mean. The very notion of winning the Tour de France—for most people, it’s impossible to do. For Alberto Contador, it was just impossible to do gracefully.
It’s not that I don’t love you– I do! But lately I’ve been doing a lot of writing for The Examiner and the Perpetual Post. I’ll be back around here shortly– I haven’t really left.
-Molly
Formula One Racing CEO Bernie Ecclestone said in a July 4 interview with The Times of London of Adolf Hitler: “…he could command a lot of people able to get things done.” The comment has drawn massive criticism from Jewish groups, with one German Jewish organization calling for a boycott of Formula One Racing.
Howard and I present two views of the controversy in this week’s Perpetual Post.
MOLLY SCHOEMANN: Say what you will about Bernie Ecclestone, the man knows how to walk on the sunny side of the street.
I mean it. I know plenty of perfectly good, honorable folks, and yet I would be hard pressed to say anything nice about many of them. In fact, I’ll admit, I can be a little overcritical and judgmental sometimes. I lose sight of what’s important, and forget to stay positive. But not Bernie. He’s got a good word to say about everyone—even Hitler!
And not just a slap-dash compliment, either. No half-hearted “He wore his suits well” or “I hear he was a decent painter.” No, Bernie Ecclestone went the extra mile with a thoughtful comment on Hitler’s superior abilities as a commander. The man clearly doesn’t let himself get caught up in the details—Ecclestone looks at the whole picture, and for him, even the darkest, most despicably evil cloud has a silver lining. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Ecclestone add that Pol Pot “knew how to dream big,” or that Mao Zedong “was always the life of the party”. Here’s someone who knows how to look on the bright side of mass-murder!
It is rare to come across such an upbeat outlook during these gloomy modern times. We are so quick to judge one another—we barely give decent people a chance to prove themselves, let alone cruel, despotic tyrants. So what a breath of fresh air it was to hear Bernie Ecclestone compliment Hitler! He truly does think outside the box of humanity.
Jillian and I debated the Twilight series in the Perpetual Post. Don’t judge me. Read her side here.
I never intended to read the Twilight series, but a friend of mine sent a copy to me in the mail. Really. I’m not making that up to defend myself. She called and asked if I’d read them yet, and a week after I answered “No, why would I?” an Amazon.com box with the first book landed on my doorstep. As is the case with many addictive substances, the first one is free because once you’re hooked you’re willing to pay anything. ANYTHING. Lucky for me the next two books were already in paperback, but I actually forked over $24.95 for book 4, which at the time was only available in hardcover. I’m not proud to admit that I elbowed a tween in the face to grab the last copy at my local Borders.
Now, I don’t like to get off my high horse as far as books are concerned. It’s smug and comfortable up there, and I get to say things like, “This novel is devastatingly honest and luminously haunting”. Movies are a different story; I love trashy movies and I live for Lifetime movies of the week. But where books are concerned, aside from the occasional pulpy bestseller, I like reading good books. So finding myself becoming drawn into the rainy vampire world of Twilight left me feeling conflicted, namely because it invited my long-obscured twelve year old self out of the shadows to frolic. While reading all four books (in about a month), the war in my head sounded something like this:
28 Year Old Molly: “I’m extremely skeptical of this series. It’s a like Sweet Valley High meets Count Chocula cereal. The main character is a whiny brat and I don’t care if she lives, dies, or gets laid, which she probably won’t, because the author is a Mormon. Why am I reading this? It just reminds me of high school, and I don’t need to remember high schoo—“
12 Year Old Molly: “SQUEEEE!!! She’s the new girl in town and the hottest boy in school is in loooove with her because even though she seems like an average girl to everyone else he knows she’s SPECIAL and he can TELL.”
28 Y.O.M.: “Yeah, right, he thinks she’s special. He thinks she’s a pork tenderloin in converse sneakers. This girl moves to a new town and the only friend she can make is some creepy loner who becomes fixated by her and watches her sleep at night? Why are we teaching young girls that it is acceptable for them to date controlling men who isolate them from their friends and family? Obsession isn’t love! It’s a warning sign! And what does he even love about her? She’s a drip!”
12 Y.O.M.: “OMG! Bella is lonely and angsty and feels like she doesn’t belong—kind of like me! I bet that if Edward went to my school, he’d totally fall in love with me and watch me sleep because deep down he can tell that I’m not like other girls.”
28 Y.O.M.: “Their relationship is based on nothing! He’s weirdly dominating and discourages her from hanging out with her best friend! She gets injured in every other chapter due to hanging out with him and his family and then hides the bruises from her father! How is this ok?”
12 Y.O.M.: “He doesn’t want her hanging out with Jacob because he’s a werewolf and they’re natural enemies. But Jacob is also hot, even though he’s younger than her. Jacob is in love with her too and she kind of loves him even though he’s not Edward, kind of like how I love Jonathan Taylor Thomas but I also love Zachary Ty Bryant. And then she has to choose between two guys! Just like I do! Sort of! In my head! Are you on team Edward or team Jacob?”
28 Y.O.M.: “Team Jacob all the way. He has the best one-liners. Also he treats her like an actual person and not some fragile collector’s item. But I sort of think Edward is hotter in the movie, but Jacob is hotter in the book—you know what? We are not talking about this.”
12 Y.O.M.: “I wonder if that really quiet boy in my physics class secretly realizes how special I am and is in love with me. I wonder if he can smell me from across the room and it makes him weak and his life didn’t begin until he first saw me. I wonder if he’ll invite me to prom.”
28 Y.O.M.: “Remember how she ends up not going to college because she’d rather hang out with her sparkly vampire boyfriend and lie to her parents? Remember how she feels like her life is empty if she’s not with a boy?”
12 Y.O.M.: “Boys are yummy.”
So I guess you could say that I can see both sides here.
Jillian, Akie & I took on iPhones vs Blackberrys vs Nothing in Thursday’s Perpetual Post. Read the full account here.
I will readily admit that I have spent little time fondling either a Blackberry or an iPhone. And I don’t really have anything against either one—yet somehow, my ambivalence comes across to devotees as a thrown gauntlet. Yes, your iPhone is neat. Yes, I’m impressed by the ingenious App you just downloaded for free. I’m sure it’s already saved you lots of time. Look how quickly you found us a local restaurant. ENOUGH ALREADY.
Sure, tell me more about your iPhone. How long have you had it? What do you like to do with it? How has it changed your life? I’m sorry, but listening to someone tell me about their iPhone is only a little more entertaining than hearing them talk about their children. I have to feign the same kind of enthusiasm. “Aw. He’s adorable! He sure has your apps.”
If I ever got an iPhone, I’m sure I’d like it; just like if I ever had a child, I’m sure I would enjoy being a parent. But if I’m not ready, don’t push me. I’ll get pregnant/switch to AT&T when I’m good and ready—and not before. The relentless pressure I receive from both parents and iPhone owners has left me a little bit leery of the concept of either.
And don’t get me started on the Blackberry. I know even less about it than I do about the iPhone—probably because the Blackberry appears to be the phone du jour of the successful business person, and I don’t really know any of those. None of them will return my calls. From what I can tell, having a Blackberry gives technology junkies yet another device to cradle 24 hours a day and consult obsessively. I can’t imagine that this would benefit me. Forget about having access to email and Facebook updates—I already cradle my boring, normal cell phone 24 hours a day and check it obsessively for text messages. I thrill to the vibrating sound my phone makes when I’ve gotten a text message, even when it’s a message from my boyfriend that says, ‘did u finish the milk?’ If my phone gave me access to weather updates, breaking news and movie times I would probably stare into its screen like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in a pool until I perished. I don’t really want a device that enables me to be even more obsessive-compulsive about my cell phone than I already am.
And no, I don’t particularly need a phone that connects me to email and internet. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a lawyer. If I can’t access the internet for an hour, no one suffers except for me, and it’s the kind of suffering related to having to socially interact with other people.
Speaking of socially interacting with other people, has anyone else noticed that the more time they spend hunched over a cell phone, the less that happens? I can’t help but wonder whether cell phones have become tiny social crutches. Alone at a party and not sure who to talk to? Just whip out your iPhone and play a game of virtual pinball or pull up a map to the nearest liquor store. Sitting by yourself in a coffee shop? Why not grab your Blackberry and check your email one more time. People will see you and think, “She’s here by herself, but she’s doing something with her phone, so she probably has lots of friends.”
When you’ve got your iPhone, you’re never really alone. You’ve got a wee digital friend by your side! Your iPhone always wants to hang out with you. Of course, you pay it to, while your friends will hang out with you for free. But you can’t play Snood on them, and they can’t instantly update their facebook statuses for you, except by telling you how they are– which can take minutes. I guess it’s a tradeoff.
Howard and I took on media coverage of David Carradine’s death in this week’s Perpetual Post. Read his side of the story here.
News media, I’ve gotta say. The way you’ve been handling this David Carradine thing is freaking me out a little. The ghoulish and unnecessary details continue to leap unexpectedly out of the headlines of even the blandest websites. WordPress.com, why are you telling me where I can find pictures of Carradine’s naked corpse? CNN news, why are you barraging me with tawdry details while I’m on the treadmill at the gym? CNN! Talk to me about tax hikes and the swine flu! Don’t discuss the history of erotic asphyxiation! Even you, MSN.com. I visit you in search of Bundt cake recipes, and I come away with a recipe for a scrotal square knot.
Granted, the whole situation is freaky, and it strikes me as the kind of tragedy that would really hit a family hard. However, having never met the deceased, I would prefer to be left unscathed. This is where 24 hour news coverage becomes a serious drag, as does the public’s apparent unblinking fascination with the sordid and intimate details of public figures. Not to be a sentimental fool, but whatever happened to not speaking ill of the dead? Apparently it’s more important to have salacious headlines and increased web traffic. The unceasing attention to and strange disapproval of the situation surrounding Carradine’s death could lead an outsider to believe that he was some sort of evil, hated public figure. His movies were good! He died in a mysterious, disturbing manner, but most importantly, he’s dead now, and that’s sad! Can we move on?
I think we may need to give the news media a bit of a breather. It appears to be on overload; popular broadcast channels have too many hours to fill with breaking stories and urgent information. A few concessions from the American public might be in order—perhaps a general agreement permitting live networks to take a few minutes to air some utterly useless footage once in awhile. Really, would it hurt anything if news anchors spent twenty minutes thumb wrestling or discussing their cats every once in awhile? Perhaps the cameraman could go outside to capture a cloud shaped like a duck that one of the interns spotted during her lunch break. If there are no looming cold fronts or impending hurricanes, the weatherman might indulge viewers with a brief tap routine. At this point, I’d rather watch Wolf Blitzer tie and untie his shoes Mr. Rogers style for fifteen minutes than hear anymore horrible details about the unfortunate death of David Carradine.
Jillian and I took on fashion trends in this week’s Perpetual Post. Read her side of the story here.
One of my favorite quotes about fashion comes from the writer Lester Bangs, who said, “style is originality; fashion is fascism.” I think of this quote whenever a particularly nauseating fashion trend takes the world by storm and dresses it in pleated pants.
When it comes to fashion, I’m all about comfort. I’m also all about hating new trends, and then quietly buying into some of them several months after they’ve peaked and gone out of style, and can be purchased in thrift stores. I like to call this Cheap, Poor and Lazy Chic. Still, there are many trends I steer clear of—including the resurgence of trends I didn’t understand to begin with (high-waisted jeans, I’m staring in your utterly unacceptable direction).
I dreaded the Dawn of the Formal Short, for one thing. If you are lucky enough to have shapely legs that go one for miles, you might while wearing formal shorts manage to give the impression that you are an attractive girl wearing unfortunate shorts. And really, that is the BEST outcome you can possibly hope for when wearing such shorts. Meanwhile normal girls with average sized and shaped legs have to walk around looking like Gumby.
Another unfortunate trend I can’t stand? Belts that appear to be keeping your breasts from sliding down your ribs. I have no problem with putting a belt around your natural waist—which I realize can be quite far above your hips. But I’m fairly sure it’s also at least a few inches below your breasts. I’m just saying. Pull your damn belt down. You look like you’re trying to cinch in your ribs—and I thought we were past all that.
So it was with great trepidation and fear that I learned from Jillian of the potential come-back of The Scrunchie. Why, fashion world—WHY? I feel like I’m in the movie Groundhog Day, except instead of reliving the same day over and over again, I’m reliving the same regrettable fashion trends that vanished—for a reason!—into the ages and the closets of so many regretful trend-followers so long ago. Although, come to think of it, I have the feeling that the film Groundhog Day may itself have promoted The Deadly Scrunchie. But don’t blame Andie MacDowell—she does have a ton of hair. I understand the function of the scrunchie; the soft material was perfect for wrapping around your wrist while you waited for your turn to play kickball. The fabric patterns on scrunchies offered a great variety of self-expression, which is unmatched by the thin, dull elastic. I believe I had one scrunchie in day-glo yellow with peace signs on it—which was a perfect reflection of the point in my life that I was at in the seventh grade. But I think we can all agree that the scrunchie’s day is done. Let us wrap it around the wrist of history. You can never go home again.
Steve Murphy and I took on Pharmaceutical companies in this week’s Perpetual Post. Read his side here.
Mines is below.
I was all ready to make fun of prescription drug commercials, because they are hilarious, when through the miracle of internet I became acquainted with the fabulous world of prescription drug websites! They’re kind of like the commercials, only with fewer cartoons, more stock photos of people looking concerned, and more fine-print made less fine.
In fact, I would like to quote directly from the delightful Patient-Medication-Guide on the website for prescription sleep-aid LUNESTA, which can be found on www.Lunesta.com:
“After taking LUNESTA, you may get up out of bed while not being fully awake and do an activity that you do not know you are doing. The next morning, you may not remember that you did anything during the night. Reported activities include:
• driving a car (“sleep-driving”)
• making and eating food
• talking on the phone
• having sex
• sleep-walking”
I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a pretty awesome night to me. I enjoy many of the above activities, and can’t always find time for them during the day—so perhaps LUNESTA is exactly what I need to get the most out of my evening hours. I’m not sure I’m down with the concept of “sleep-driving”, but that would make a good excuse the next time I run a red light during a late night drive. “Huh? Officer? What? I’m not asleep in my nice warm bed?! Nooo! LUNESTAAAA!!!” It’s the perfect crime.
Given these side-effects, I have to concur with LUNESTA’s claims to give you a good night’s sleep. Actually, any period of rest during which I make and eat food, talk on the phone and have sex—I call a GREAT night’s sleep. LUNESTA, you may have just found another satisfied customer.
Then again, some of the negative side-effects of taking LUNESTA include:
• abnormal thoughts and behavior. Symptoms include more outgoing or aggressive behavior than normal, confusion, agitation, hallucinations, worsening of depression, and suicidal thoughts or actions.
• memory loss
• anxiety
Ok. Any of those side-effects would kind of put a crimp in my sleep-eating, sleep-screwing and sleep-talking-on-the-phone style (by the way, that’s also a great way to get out of a phone conversation that’s quickly going south. “I owe you how much in unpaid cable bills?…What?…What am I doing? Who is this anyway?! LUNESTAAAA!!!” Click.)
I mean really, what’s the point of making delicious sleep-feasts and having fabulously sexy sleep-relations if a) you don’t remember any of it and b) you’re confused, aggressive, depressed, anxious, suicidal and hallucinating? Aren’t those the same symptoms you have if you’re an insomniac? Why not skip the LUNESTA and lessen the chances that you’ll wake up doing 80 on the highway or eating a bullion-cube sandwich? You might only get laid while you’re awake, but at least you’ll remember it.
There are also common side effects like
• unpleasant taste in mouth, dry mouth
• drowsiness
Is there some legal reason they have to list drowsiness as a side effect for a sleep-aid? Finally, my last favorite part of the Patient Guide? (There were so many!):
• For customer service, call 1-888-394-7377.
• To report side effects, call 1-877-737-7226.
Oh, to work the LUNESTA reported side effects hotline! What a wealth of unimaginable dramatic and comedic riches!
“Last night I called every number in my cell phone and yelled ‘I HATE FEET!’ at anyone who picked up.”
“I woke up two towns over with my car in a ditch…and dry mouth.”
“I had no trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. And then I had no trouble eating half a roast chicken and having anonymous sex with my building’s security guard. I feel like I finally have my life back, thanks to LUNESTA.”
I Heard Tell 