This is the most wonderful time of the year. You want to know why? Because now I can go another 11 months or so without having to hear "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." Or any other Christmas music, for that matter.
That's right. I'm I'm coming out against carols, those sappy, sentimental staples of the Christmas season.
I don't expect this to be a popular opinion. After all, who could be opposed to Bing Crosby crooning "White Christmas" or Nat King Cole doing "Silent Night"? Who could find it in their heart to hate the festive, trampling-based humor of "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer"?
Well, I could.
It's not that there there are no good Christmas songs, because many are lovely. It's not even that from mid-November through the end of December stores everywhere have Bing and Nat and Johnny Mathis on a continuous loop. I just can't get behind any music that only qualifies to be played once a year.
That holds regardless of the season or the holiday involved. I went to college in New Orleans, and as most people know Mardi Gras is a big deal in the Big Easy. It's like Christmas and a drinking binge and a trip to a particularly sleazy strip club all rolled into one. The holiday's theme song is something called "The Mardi Gras Mambo." It's a terrible song, and there's really no reason to ever listen to it. But for two weeks each year it's everywhere. It's like some evil force overtakes the part of everyone's brain that decides whether music is good or bad. I imagine it's the same thing that happens to people who buy Celine Dion albums.
It's the same thing with Christmas. I'll admit some Christmas songs have appeal. "White Christmas" is nice if you're spending wintry night lounging by the fire. And there was even a time I found "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" kind of funny. I was 8, but still. But when the malls and the radio stations and everyone homeowner taken over by the Holiday Spirit decides we need a steady diet of Christmas music and nothing but that things get dicey.
Then there's the fact Christmas albums have become the easy way for musicians to cash in. You're not really a successful recording artist these days until you've recorded a collection of Christmas standards. So, for example, Christina Aguilera, who called her second CD "Stripped," released a near-pornographic video to accompany one of her songs and made out with Madonna on some MTV awards show can now be heard singing "Oh Holy Night" and "Angels We Have Heard on High." Presumably, these particular angels have nipple rings.
These kinds of Christmas CDs are nothing new, of course. Elvis has several Christmas CDs. Even Kiss has one. Amazon.com currently offers a jazz Christmas CD, a Motown Christmas CD, even a CD of Christmas music played on steel drums. Because nothing says Christmas like "O Come All Ye Faithful" infused with the rhythm of the tropics.
Imagine if this trend extended beyond Christmas. Imagine every holiday had its own collection of traditional songs. Easy listening station would jump from all Christmas, all the time straight to marathons of New Year's Day songs ("Auld Lang Syne" on repeat, baby!) and from there to its catalog of Valentine's Day ballads. By the time we got to Thanksgiving we'd all be ready to gouge our ears out with a turkey baster.
I don't begrudge people their Christmas music. I know it helps get people in the holiday spirit. I can respect that.
I just don't think I should be held accountable for my actions if I someone puts on their copy of "Ultimate Christmas" when I'm in the room this week and I'm forced to listen to Kenny G's rendition of "Silver Bells."
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Congratulations, everyone
I am Time Magazine's Person of the Year for 2006, and I have to say it's about time. I'm thrilled to know the letters I've been sending finally got through to someone.
To be fair, Time Magazine has apparently chosen to name every man, woman and child in American -- or maybe the world -- its Person of the Year this year.
The reasoning behind Time's decision, it seems, is that the Internet's power to bring people together and give everyone his or her own voice gave unprecedented power to the individual. The popularization of blogs gave everyone the potential to be a terrible journalist, and sites like YouTube meant we had a central location where we could see all those stupid movie clips we once had to wait for our friends to e-mail us. And honestly, who can get enough pictures of rapping grannies and monkeys smelling their own rear ends? Take that, America's Funniest Videos.
If you ask me, the whole thing sounds like a big cop-out. The Time editors probably just forgot they were supposed to choose someone and made up some junk about learning America's true nature by watching the videos they choose to post online. I know what that's like. Once, in college, I put off writing a paper because the bar on campus was showing Ferris Beuller's Day Off. These things happen. But if watching a minute and 15 seconds of some dude hand-farting the Star Spangled Banner really reveals the character of this country I'm going to think seriously about moving to Canada. First we've got photographers camped out hoping to get pictures of Britney Spears without her underpants and now this? It's almost too much to take.
But let's take a minute to consider Time's point of view. Clearly, many people have made a notable contribution online. Sites like Wikipedia have tapped the communal knowledge of geeks everywhere to build a kind of living encyclopedia, and bloggers have in some cases helped keep mainstream journalists honest. Blogs have also allowed real journalists -- you know, hard-working folks like me who make their livings writing jokes about Britney Spears' underpants -- to keep our fingers on the pulse of America without leaving our desks. Talk to people to find out how they feel about an issue? The heck with that, I'm going to go to blogspot .com and pull quotes from a bunch of anonymous people who seem to think the world cares what they think about when they're sitting in front of their computers in their jammies. I'm in favor of that, although it would help if I could find a few more blogs where people expressed opinions about Rosemount.
But think about this: If Time is naming everyone Person of the Year, we have to take the good with the bad. We have to take Britney, for example. And we have to concede that her ex-husband, Kevin Federline, is also worthy of being considered Person of the Year, even though all he did was get someone pregnant, marry her and release a terrible, terrible rap CD. We also have to welcome to the club people like the guy who earlier this year called police to report his quarter-pound of marijuana had been stolen, then showed up at the police station to identify his drugs. Or the countless teens who used MySpace , another one of those wonderful community-building online tools Time is so excited about, to post details of the crimes they had either committed or planned to commit. Then there's my favorite local Person of the Year, the guy who, pulled over by police, claimed to have a bunch of cocaine in his truck's spare tire, only to claim it was a joke when police didn't find anything. We even have to accept the hand-farting guy, who has apparently done an entire hand-farting series, including performances of the Jeopardy theme and Happy Birthday.
I'm not sure this is a road we're really willing to go down. I'm not confident we as a nation are ready to come together as a collective Person of the Year when we can't even get together long enough to agree it's OK to wish people a Merry Christmas.
I don't care, though. I'm still putting it on my resume. At least until People finally gets around to naming me Sexiest Man Alive.
To be fair, Time Magazine has apparently chosen to name every man, woman and child in American -- or maybe the world -- its Person of the Year this year.
The reasoning behind Time's decision, it seems, is that the Internet's power to bring people together and give everyone his or her own voice gave unprecedented power to the individual. The popularization of blogs gave everyone the potential to be a terrible journalist, and sites like YouTube meant we had a central location where we could see all those stupid movie clips we once had to wait for our friends to e-mail us. And honestly, who can get enough pictures of rapping grannies and monkeys smelling their own rear ends? Take that, America's Funniest Videos.
If you ask me, the whole thing sounds like a big cop-out. The Time editors probably just forgot they were supposed to choose someone and made up some junk about learning America's true nature by watching the videos they choose to post online. I know what that's like. Once, in college, I put off writing a paper because the bar on campus was showing Ferris Beuller's Day Off. These things happen. But if watching a minute and 15 seconds of some dude hand-farting the Star Spangled Banner really reveals the character of this country I'm going to think seriously about moving to Canada. First we've got photographers camped out hoping to get pictures of Britney Spears without her underpants and now this? It's almost too much to take.
But let's take a minute to consider Time's point of view. Clearly, many people have made a notable contribution online. Sites like Wikipedia have tapped the communal knowledge of geeks everywhere to build a kind of living encyclopedia, and bloggers have in some cases helped keep mainstream journalists honest. Blogs have also allowed real journalists -- you know, hard-working folks like me who make their livings writing jokes about Britney Spears' underpants -- to keep our fingers on the pulse of America without leaving our desks. Talk to people to find out how they feel about an issue? The heck with that, I'm going to go to blogspot .com and pull quotes from a bunch of anonymous people who seem to think the world cares what they think about when they're sitting in front of their computers in their jammies. I'm in favor of that, although it would help if I could find a few more blogs where people expressed opinions about Rosemount.
But think about this: If Time is naming everyone Person of the Year, we have to take the good with the bad. We have to take Britney, for example. And we have to concede that her ex-husband, Kevin Federline, is also worthy of being considered Person of the Year, even though all he did was get someone pregnant, marry her and release a terrible, terrible rap CD. We also have to welcome to the club people like the guy who earlier this year called police to report his quarter-pound of marijuana had been stolen, then showed up at the police station to identify his drugs. Or the countless teens who used MySpace , another one of those wonderful community-building online tools Time is so excited about, to post details of the crimes they had either committed or planned to commit. Then there's my favorite local Person of the Year, the guy who, pulled over by police, claimed to have a bunch of cocaine in his truck's spare tire, only to claim it was a joke when police didn't find anything. We even have to accept the hand-farting guy, who has apparently done an entire hand-farting series, including performances of the Jeopardy theme and Happy Birthday.
I'm not sure this is a road we're really willing to go down. I'm not confident we as a nation are ready to come together as a collective Person of the Year when we can't even get together long enough to agree it's OK to wish people a Merry Christmas.
I don't care, though. I'm still putting it on my resume. At least until People finally gets around to naming me Sexiest Man Alive.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
What's that smell?
The Christmas season is upon us, and people everywhere are looking for the perfect gifts to give their loved ones. Perfumes and colognes are one time-tested option, and now more than ever our celebrities are giving of themselves and providing opportunities for their adoring public to smell like them.
This is not an altogether new thing. Celebrities have been involved in the fragrance business since a soft-focused Elizabeth Taylor thought her white diamonds would give some anonymous gambler good luck. But the famous-person-odor market is getting more crowded all the time. I bring it up now because I just saw a commercial for a new fragrance from Antonio Banderas.
You know Antonio, right? Played Zorro? Was the voice of Puss in Boots in the most recent Shrek movie? Married to that blond chick from Working Girl? Yeah, that guy. Apparently he's got his own cologne now. Or maybe it's perfume. The commercial wasn't clear.
And Banderas isn't even the only Zorro castmember with his own signature scent. Catherine Zeta-Jones has one, too. Presumably it's a special concoction formulated to attract older men who look more like the Crypt Keeper every year.
There are plenty of others, too. Cher has one. She keeps threatening to pull it from the market, but it never seems to go away. So does supermodel Naomi Campbell, whose scent has "a blend of sensual and warm notes," sure to make you want to abuse your personal assistant. Celine Dion has one, too. I can only assume it is overpowering and not at all subtle with "piercing high notes."
Famous rich person Donald Trump has his own scent, which he presumably found easier to market than a line of hair care products. Substanceless pop star/ actress Hillary Duff has a fragrance that features the scent of something called Mangosteen fruit, which, according to an ad elsewhere in last week’s issue, cures more ills than Dr. McGillicuddy's Miracle Tonic in addition to making people smell good.
Even athletes have their own fragrances, although the idea of smelling like a locker room seems less than appealing. Basketball star Michael Jordan has one with "spicy lavender amber fragrance." I have no idea what amber smells like. I just know if you find a bug trapped in it you can make dinosaurs. Famous tennis player Andy Roddick has his own scent. It comes in an attractive bottle but despite early promise never seems to last as long as you think it should.
You don't even have to be a person to have your own fragrance. There are new scents available named after television shows like The O.C. and Desperate Housewives. Apparently desperation is an attractive odor.
I'm not really a fragrance person, but thanks to a website called kidzworld.com, I know what celebrity fragrance is right for me. Although some of the questions it asked about my ideal boyfriend were a little troubling, the site seems confident something called Taste by Jessica Simpson is right up my alley and will make me "kissable and smoochable" and "harder for peeps to resist." Sweet!
There are more options than I have space to mention here, but what follows are some of what my perfume-industry sources tell me are among the best soon-to-be released celebrity scents:
• Liberation, a new scent for men by recently-divorced Britney Spears ex Kevin Federline. It smells like Cheetos, Pabst Blue Ribbon, pot smoke and desperation.
• Top Gun, by Tom Cruise. A closet's worth of fruity scents that evokes enthusiasm, denial and general insanity. Scientology-approved.
• Reasonable Doubt, but O.J. Simpson. The former football star and accused murderer is not saying he's releasing this speculative fragrance, but if he did it would smell like leather gloves and cold steel.
There are even a couple of local options:
• Game Manager, by Vikings Quarterback Brad Johnson. An enduring scent that never seems to get its due. Everyone calls it an unremarkable scent that won't offend anyone but never seems to help you score.
• Trade Rumor by Kevin Garnett. Get it now. If news reports are to be believed it might not be around next week.
This is not an altogether new thing. Celebrities have been involved in the fragrance business since a soft-focused Elizabeth Taylor thought her white diamonds would give some anonymous gambler good luck. But the famous-person-odor market is getting more crowded all the time. I bring it up now because I just saw a commercial for a new fragrance from Antonio Banderas.
You know Antonio, right? Played Zorro? Was the voice of Puss in Boots in the most recent Shrek movie? Married to that blond chick from Working Girl? Yeah, that guy. Apparently he's got his own cologne now. Or maybe it's perfume. The commercial wasn't clear.
And Banderas isn't even the only Zorro castmember with his own signature scent. Catherine Zeta-Jones has one, too. Presumably it's a special concoction formulated to attract older men who look more like the Crypt Keeper every year.
There are plenty of others, too. Cher has one. She keeps threatening to pull it from the market, but it never seems to go away. So does supermodel Naomi Campbell, whose scent has "a blend of sensual and warm notes," sure to make you want to abuse your personal assistant. Celine Dion has one, too. I can only assume it is overpowering and not at all subtle with "piercing high notes."
Famous rich person Donald Trump has his own scent, which he presumably found easier to market than a line of hair care products. Substanceless pop star/ actress Hillary Duff has a fragrance that features the scent of something called Mangosteen fruit, which, according to an ad elsewhere in last week’s issue, cures more ills than Dr. McGillicuddy's Miracle Tonic in addition to making people smell good.
Even athletes have their own fragrances, although the idea of smelling like a locker room seems less than appealing. Basketball star Michael Jordan has one with "spicy lavender amber fragrance." I have no idea what amber smells like. I just know if you find a bug trapped in it you can make dinosaurs. Famous tennis player Andy Roddick has his own scent. It comes in an attractive bottle but despite early promise never seems to last as long as you think it should.
You don't even have to be a person to have your own fragrance. There are new scents available named after television shows like The O.C. and Desperate Housewives. Apparently desperation is an attractive odor.
I'm not really a fragrance person, but thanks to a website called kidzworld.com, I know what celebrity fragrance is right for me. Although some of the questions it asked about my ideal boyfriend were a little troubling, the site seems confident something called Taste by Jessica Simpson is right up my alley and will make me "kissable and smoochable" and "harder for peeps to resist." Sweet!
There are more options than I have space to mention here, but what follows are some of what my perfume-industry sources tell me are among the best soon-to-be released celebrity scents:
• Liberation, a new scent for men by recently-divorced Britney Spears ex Kevin Federline. It smells like Cheetos, Pabst Blue Ribbon, pot smoke and desperation.
• Top Gun, by Tom Cruise. A closet's worth of fruity scents that evokes enthusiasm, denial and general insanity. Scientology-approved.
• Reasonable Doubt, but O.J. Simpson. The former football star and accused murderer is not saying he's releasing this speculative fragrance, but if he did it would smell like leather gloves and cold steel.
There are even a couple of local options:
• Game Manager, by Vikings Quarterback Brad Johnson. An enduring scent that never seems to get its due. Everyone calls it an unremarkable scent that won't offend anyone but never seems to help you score.
• Trade Rumor by Kevin Garnett. Get it now. If news reports are to be believed it might not be around next week.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Taking the reins, selling them back
When he accepted basketball coach Dan Monson's resignation last week, University of Minnesota Athletic Director Joel Maturi announced anyone interested in replacing Monson would be a candidate for the job. Since then, there has been a lot of speculation about who might become the next Gopher coach. Some have called for Flip Saunders, the formerTimberwolves coach who once played for the Gophers. Some have suggested former Utah coach Rick Majerus , although the fact he weighs something like 300 pounds and his heart may explode at any moment would seem to make him a liability. You don't want to have to deal with something like that during a TV timeout.
A few people have even suggested Bob Knight, the insane former coach of Indiana who is currently the insane coach at Texas Tech. Presumably any deal with Knight would include a provision to station someone with a tranquilizer dart gun near the court at every game.
There are a number of people out there who are qualified for the job. But I have another suggestion. Me.
I realize this might seem unorthodox at first. I have never coached any sport at any level, unless you count the seasons I've run through on Madden football. I agree that's a strike against me. But former Gopher star Trent Tucker has never coached, either, and that doesn't keep him from getting mentioned as a top candidate.
I also have the advantage of being associated with the Gopher program longer than Mr. Tucker. I've been going to Gopher games since the days I was the only one short enough to see past the overhanging upper deck and read the scoreboard. Considering I'm now 6-6, it's been a while. I've been going to games long enough to see two coaches forced out amid scandal and one pushed to resign. I attended NCAA tournament games in San Antonio that according to record books never even happened. I don't claim to know the ins and outs of a zone defense and I might not know exactly what "palming" is (it sounds kind of dirty) but that kind of dedication has to count for something, doesn't it?
Still, I imagine some might have concerns. How will I win games? How will I bring fans back to Williams Arena? Consider, though, that Dan Monson returned academic credibility to a program that lost that under former coach Clem Haskins. I don't promise to make the team any better on the court, but I promise I will continue making them go to class. Plus, I promise to give away $1,000 a night to a randomly selected fan. That should get people in the seats.
Still not enough? I understand. And if everything goes according to my plan I can guarantee my inept coaching will never sully the record of the Gopher basketball team. I'm talking about a buyout.
As a fan, I only want what is best for this team. And despite my affection for inspirational sports movies like Hoosiers and The Mighty Ducks, clearly I will never have any success as a major-college coach. I recognize that now, before I take the reins, is the time for me to turn the reins of the program over to someone who has a better chance to bring the Gophers success on the court. I am happy now, before I have had a chance to damage the good (well, sort of good) name of Gopher basketball, to step aside.
For a healthy payout, of course. I'm shooting for a cool million, but I might be willing to settle for less. Maybe half a mil. Certainly not less than $75.50. Just one quick payment and the overwhelmingly disappointing Nathan Hansen coaching era can be over even before it starts. Everyone wins.
Dan Monson reportedly accepted a $1.3 million buyout to leave his job. He got that money despite the fact his contract called for a $1 million buyout if he was fired. You can see why I think I might have a shot in this negotiating process.
A few people have even suggested Bob Knight, the insane former coach of Indiana who is currently the insane coach at Texas Tech. Presumably any deal with Knight would include a provision to station someone with a tranquilizer dart gun near the court at every game.
There are a number of people out there who are qualified for the job. But I have another suggestion. Me.
I realize this might seem unorthodox at first. I have never coached any sport at any level, unless you count the seasons I've run through on Madden football. I agree that's a strike against me. But former Gopher star Trent Tucker has never coached, either, and that doesn't keep him from getting mentioned as a top candidate.
I also have the advantage of being associated with the Gopher program longer than Mr. Tucker. I've been going to Gopher games since the days I was the only one short enough to see past the overhanging upper deck and read the scoreboard. Considering I'm now 6-6, it's been a while. I've been going to games long enough to see two coaches forced out amid scandal and one pushed to resign. I attended NCAA tournament games in San Antonio that according to record books never even happened. I don't claim to know the ins and outs of a zone defense and I might not know exactly what "palming" is (it sounds kind of dirty) but that kind of dedication has to count for something, doesn't it?
Still, I imagine some might have concerns. How will I win games? How will I bring fans back to Williams Arena? Consider, though, that Dan Monson returned academic credibility to a program that lost that under former coach Clem Haskins. I don't promise to make the team any better on the court, but I promise I will continue making them go to class. Plus, I promise to give away $1,000 a night to a randomly selected fan. That should get people in the seats.
Still not enough? I understand. And if everything goes according to my plan I can guarantee my inept coaching will never sully the record of the Gopher basketball team. I'm talking about a buyout.
As a fan, I only want what is best for this team. And despite my affection for inspirational sports movies like Hoosiers and The Mighty Ducks, clearly I will never have any success as a major-college coach. I recognize that now, before I take the reins, is the time for me to turn the reins of the program over to someone who has a better chance to bring the Gophers success on the court. I am happy now, before I have had a chance to damage the good (well, sort of good) name of Gopher basketball, to step aside.
For a healthy payout, of course. I'm shooting for a cool million, but I might be willing to settle for less. Maybe half a mil. Certainly not less than $75.50. Just one quick payment and the overwhelmingly disappointing Nathan Hansen coaching era can be over even before it starts. Everyone wins.
Dan Monson reportedly accepted a $1.3 million buyout to leave his job. He got that money despite the fact his contract called for a $1 million buyout if he was fired. You can see why I think I might have a shot in this negotiating process.
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