'South Park'-Scientology Battle Rages On - Yahoo! News: "'So, Scientology, you may have won THIS battle, but the million-year war for earth has just begun!' the 'South Park' creators said in a statement Friday in Daily Variety. 'Temporarily anozinizing our episode will NOT stop us from keeping Thetans forever trapped in your pitiful man-bodies... You have obsructed us for now, but your feeble bid to save humanity will fail!'"
May the Flying Spaghetti Monster shower his blessings on Matt Stone and Trey Parker in their righteous battle.
I just don't think I can live in a world in which Tom Cruise is a cultural force.
Bob Rhubart: Humor. Opinion. Comment. Rants. Neurosis. Sometimes all at once.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Monday, February 13, 2006
Has Stern Lost His Touch?: Financial News - Yahoo! Finance
In his Motely Fool commentary about Howard Stern's Sirius programming (Has Stern Lost His Touch?), Rick Munarriz observes:
Stern is a guilty pleasure for me, and as a Sirius subscriber I've had more than a few good laughs on the way to work in the morning since his Sirius debut in January. (I will admit that on at least two recent occasions I was so completely grossed out that I had to switch channels. I will not describe the content.)
But what Stern needs to learn in a hurry is that his fans want to hear his show, not a lot of shows about his show. The Howard 100 news is -- no surprise -- a complete waste of time, as are the other spin-offs, including the wrap-up show mentioned in the quote above.
Stern has mentioned a few ideas for other programs that have some promise: a crack-whore satire of The View for one, and another he mentioned a couple of weeks ago that would bring Iraq War vets on for an uncensored discussion of their experiences (as close to a serious news program as Stern is likely to get).
But for now the filler programming on the two Stern Sirius channels, including the thoroughly repugnant Bubba the Love Sponge, is not going to help me cash in on my Sirius stock.
The problem is that pulling back the curtain -- and offering 24/7 newsy dissections -- does the flagship show no favors.
Stern is a guilty pleasure for me, and as a Sirius subscriber I've had more than a few good laughs on the way to work in the morning since his Sirius debut in January. (I will admit that on at least two recent occasions I was so completely grossed out that I had to switch channels. I will not describe the content.)
But what Stern needs to learn in a hurry is that his fans want to hear his show, not a lot of shows about his show. The Howard 100 news is -- no surprise -- a complete waste of time, as are the other spin-offs, including the wrap-up show mentioned in the quote above.
Stern has mentioned a few ideas for other programs that have some promise: a crack-whore satire of The View for one, and another he mentioned a couple of weeks ago that would bring Iraq War vets on for an uncensored discussion of their experiences (as close to a serious news program as Stern is likely to get).
But for now the filler programming on the two Stern Sirius channels, including the thoroughly repugnant Bubba the Love Sponge, is not going to help me cash in on my Sirius stock.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
In Space, No One Can Hear You Snore
We’ve been conditioned by books, movies, and television to have certain expectations regarding alien beings. Whether they fall into the cute and friendly category, like ET, or the bizarre and menacing catergory, like the critters from the ALIEN series or those from WAR OF THE WORLDS (the Martians, not Tom Cruise), we have it in our heads that visitors from beyond Earth will be, at minimum, interesting.
But what will you do when your close encounter finally happens and you discover that your guests are neither cuddly, benevolent star-voyagers, nor well-armed space calamari intent on turning major cities into dirty ashtrays? What if they are completely, unendurably boring?
There you are, sitting on your patio, when suddenly something large drops out of the sky onto the lawn. But instead of a dazzlingly illuminated UFO, it turns out to look more like a poorly maintained recreational vehicle, with a couple of battered satellite dishes, and an Area 51 parking pass.
Then a hatch creaks open, and just as you position your fingers in that live-long-and-prosper Vulcan greeting, one of those tiny, gray-green guys with a big head and no mouth pops out and says to you through telepathy, "We heard there was a real good outlet mall around here." And instead of fastening himself to your face and turning you into a breeding pod, or letting you goof around with his light saber, he flops down on your couch spends the next six hours watching QVC.
Finally, before he can say, "ET phone Home Shopping Club," you make your move. "Well, tomorrow’s a long day," you say, "Thanks for coming by." And you shove him out the door.
How are we to avoid any such encounters with Dearth Vacuous? Simple. What do you normally do when you want to dodge any contact with the tedious beings in your life?
You screen your calls.
We must immediately advise the people at SETI, the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence project, to wire all those antenna arrays up to a voice mail system so they can screen any interplanetary messages they might receive. That way we can get some idea of what we are dealing with before we invite anybody to beam down for coffee and donuts.
All it takes is a polite message: "We’re sorry, we can't respond your long string of binary code right now. Please leave a brief description of your culture and intentions at the beep and we'll get back to you just as soon as we can."
Then all we have to do is listen to the messages. If we find out that the hyper-intelligent crew of a sparkling star cruiser wants to teach us how to end poverty, disease, and war, and show us a simple way to fill out IRS forms, we can tell them, "C’mon down! We’re buying!"
If, on the other hand, the translated data turns out to be a request for Kenny G tickets and a DVD collection of the first season of "Joannie Loves Chachi," we know that we need to issue a global alert that for the next few days everyone should turn out the lights and pretend not to be home.
Of course, aliens have probably been watching us for some time, scanning our TV broadcasts and so on. We may have to face up to the idea that once they analyzed their data, they sent an urgent message back to their home planet to activate the voice mail and draw the curtains.
Could it be that Earth is the Planet of the Dweebs?
Naahh...
But what will you do when your close encounter finally happens and you discover that your guests are neither cuddly, benevolent star-voyagers, nor well-armed space calamari intent on turning major cities into dirty ashtrays? What if they are completely, unendurably boring?
There you are, sitting on your patio, when suddenly something large drops out of the sky onto the lawn. But instead of a dazzlingly illuminated UFO, it turns out to look more like a poorly maintained recreational vehicle, with a couple of battered satellite dishes, and an Area 51 parking pass.
Then a hatch creaks open, and just as you position your fingers in that live-long-and-prosper Vulcan greeting, one of those tiny, gray-green guys with a big head and no mouth pops out and says to you through telepathy, "We heard there was a real good outlet mall around here." And instead of fastening himself to your face and turning you into a breeding pod, or letting you goof around with his light saber, he flops down on your couch spends the next six hours watching QVC.
Finally, before he can say, "ET phone Home Shopping Club," you make your move. "Well, tomorrow’s a long day," you say, "Thanks for coming by." And you shove him out the door.
How are we to avoid any such encounters with Dearth Vacuous? Simple. What do you normally do when you want to dodge any contact with the tedious beings in your life?
You screen your calls.
We must immediately advise the people at SETI, the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence project, to wire all those antenna arrays up to a voice mail system so they can screen any interplanetary messages they might receive. That way we can get some idea of what we are dealing with before we invite anybody to beam down for coffee and donuts.
All it takes is a polite message: "We’re sorry, we can't respond your long string of binary code right now. Please leave a brief description of your culture and intentions at the beep and we'll get back to you just as soon as we can."
Then all we have to do is listen to the messages. If we find out that the hyper-intelligent crew of a sparkling star cruiser wants to teach us how to end poverty, disease, and war, and show us a simple way to fill out IRS forms, we can tell them, "C’mon down! We’re buying!"
If, on the other hand, the translated data turns out to be a request for Kenny G tickets and a DVD collection of the first season of "Joannie Loves Chachi," we know that we need to issue a global alert that for the next few days everyone should turn out the lights and pretend not to be home.
Of course, aliens have probably been watching us for some time, scanning our TV broadcasts and so on. We may have to face up to the idea that once they analyzed their data, they sent an urgent message back to their home planet to activate the voice mail and draw the curtains.
Could it be that Earth is the Planet of the Dweebs?
Naahh...
Friday, February 03, 2006
Lessig: Free Culture
Many thanks to Charles Stack (whom I would describe as the smartest man I know even if he wasn't my boss) for recommending this wonderful Flash version of a lecture on free culture by Creative Commons chairman Lawrence Lessig.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Howard Stern in the Land of No Bleep
Where would Howard Stern be without controversy? The unrepentant bad boy of radio built his career on thumbing his nose at taste, tact, various radio station bosses and the FCC. Having anointed himself of late as a poster child for free speech, he has leveraged his reputation and following to publicize his unquestionably bold move to satellite radio. But when he debuts on Sirius in January he enters new territory, where the f-bomb drops freely -- and as frequently as ordinance on an artillery range. How will Stern and crew fare in a medium where the bleep is an endangered species and the particular brand of controversy that has propelled his career is hard to come by?
Will an unbridled Stern simply amp up the frat-boy antics, or will something else emerge?
Stern is at his best when he asks squirm-inducing questions of his guests -- lampooning pompous celebrities; allowing starlets, strippers and rock stars to demonstrate their intellectual prowess; and providing a platform for racists, fascists and their ilk to bury themselves in uproarious ugliness.
But the occasional moments of genuine hilarity are too often separated by yet another segment of seventh-grade-level obsession with genitalia and/or the digestive process. Stern talking a woman out of her blouse is just not as funny as Stern asking Tori Spelling to name the capitol of New York State (her answer: New Jersey).
So what happens to Stern when there is no need for a 7-second delay, and no threat of whopper FCC fines? Is there any real mystery about what gets bleeped? And if not, is the ability to hear anyone on the Stern show utter even the filthiest expletive enough to keep a satellite audience entertained, especially when listeners can hear all the nasty language they want on any of dozens of other Sirius channels? In the uncensored world of satellite radio, dirty talk is not a distinguishing feature.
Stern's move to Sirius is a milestone in the continuing tectonic shift in media consumption. But the self-described king of all media is likely to find that he will need more than the Seven Dirty Words to keep his crown from slipping.
(Also available on Blogcritics.com)
Will an unbridled Stern simply amp up the frat-boy antics, or will something else emerge?
Stern is at his best when he asks squirm-inducing questions of his guests -- lampooning pompous celebrities; allowing starlets, strippers and rock stars to demonstrate their intellectual prowess; and providing a platform for racists, fascists and their ilk to bury themselves in uproarious ugliness.
But the occasional moments of genuine hilarity are too often separated by yet another segment of seventh-grade-level obsession with genitalia and/or the digestive process. Stern talking a woman out of her blouse is just not as funny as Stern asking Tori Spelling to name the capitol of New York State (her answer: New Jersey).
So what happens to Stern when there is no need for a 7-second delay, and no threat of whopper FCC fines? Is there any real mystery about what gets bleeped? And if not, is the ability to hear anyone on the Stern show utter even the filthiest expletive enough to keep a satellite audience entertained, especially when listeners can hear all the nasty language they want on any of dozens of other Sirius channels? In the uncensored world of satellite radio, dirty talk is not a distinguishing feature.
Stern's move to Sirius is a milestone in the continuing tectonic shift in media consumption. But the self-described king of all media is likely to find that he will need more than the Seven Dirty Words to keep his crown from slipping.
(Also available on Blogcritics.com)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)