Hugs and Hand Pounds

50 Ways to Lose Your Lover

2006-11-16T12:12:00.000-05:00

Part 2 of yesterday's post:

Parental Control

Premise
Parental Control has by far the strangest set-up of all of the popular dating shows. Also an MTV staple, PC begins with the parents of the contestant (high school age) screening a group of possible dates. Mom and Dad each get to choose one of the singles to go on a date with their son or daughter. Here's the twist: the son or daughter ISN'T SINGLE! In fact, their child's paramour must sit and watch the dates live on television alongside the parents. This show lives up to its potential in almost every episode. Never before have you heard 16 year-olds make such snide and underhanded comments to adults before, let alone on national television. At the end of the dates, the contestant must choose if he or she wants to stay with his current partner or go back out with one of the chosen dates. Needless to say, the show is much more entertaining when a new girl or guy is chosen.

Quality of Contestants
The participants on Parental Control are very similar to the Dismissed contestants (both shows come from MTV), but I suspect that some of the PC contestants are putting on an act. While the contestants' significant others are watching the dates on TV with the parents of the contestant, the two parties are in a constant race to see who can degrade the other the fastest. Nothing is out of bounds here. The parents' parenting abilities, weight, income, upbringing, and sense of home decor (believe me, I've heard it) are all called into question, and in the snottiest way possible. By the end of the show, no parents worth their weight in sand would ever allow their child to continue dating the gutter-snipe that they brought in at the beginning of the show. Needless to say, any opportunity to hear a pudgy 16 year-old boy call his girlfriend's mother a "tacky bitch" should NEVER be passed up.

Typical Date Activities
These dates are extremely similar to the Dismissed dates. As the contestants are all underage, binge drinking is sadly ruled out. The "cheese factor" is pretty high in most of these dates. Often times the contestant will take his date to a soccer field or basketball court and play a game that might enable him to get a kiss. Needless to say, everyone on both sides of the camera wishes that there was a pitcher of margaritas present.

Final Elimination
After the contestant has finished both dates, he or she comes back to the house with both dates to meet his parents and signifigant other. The best part about this is that someone is going to end up angry; either the current girlfriend is going to get dumped or the dates are going to be let go and the contestant's parents are going to have to endure a few more months of their son bringing home a piece of ignorant chattle.

Wild Card
This show's main appeal lies in watching a 50-something mother nearly come to blows with her son's poor choice of a girlfriend. I am not exaggerating these girls' behavior--it's as if the producers instruct every girl to watch The Bad News Bears before going on camera so that they can imitate Tatum O'Neal's character as closely as possible. While not MTV's best effort, there are worse ways to pass 30 minutes.

Blind Date

Premise
Blind Date came along before the other shows were created, and it retains much of it's appeal as it is the smartest of all cable dating shows. It is the only one to have a studio host (Roger Lodge of Talk Soup semi-fame), and it uses bubbles on the screen during the dates to poke fun at the participants "Pop-up Video" style.In a nod to patriarchal sexism, the male picks up the woman in a Ford Expedition that is outfitted with cameras and microphones. These dates do not always end with a heavy make-out session and there is no elimination, as the date simply ends at the conclusion of dinner. The real fun is watching the show's writers make fun of almost everything that comes out of these dolts' mouths.

Quality of Contestants
The typical Blind Date contestant is a mid-30s professional who seems to actually hold down a job that pays more than minimum wage. In the dating show world, this is what we call a "keeper". None of these people have a whole lot to say, which is partly because they are the type of people that have to go on telelvision to get a date, and partly because they know that everything they say and do is going to be ridiculed by hundreds of thousands of viewers.

Wild Card
Since there is no elimintaion on Blind Date, and the dates are pretty mundane (painting pottery, doing yoga, etc.), I thought I would skip to the end. Blind Date's appeal is that every few episodes, the producers set up a normal person with a complete freak for their date. You never know when this is going to happen, but you consider yourself lucky if you catch one of these episodes. It's like when you're eating a bag of Nacho Cheesier Doritos and you pull out a chip that's especially covered in nacho dust. It doesn't make your week or anything, but it's definitely a nice bonus. Watching a secretary go to a tattoo parlor with her facially pierced date is always good times.

The Bachelor

Premise
The Bachelor is the Cadillac of dating shows. Not coincidentally, it is the only one of these shows that is actually on a network (ABC). It is the only show that has contestants who might actually procure a date at some point without the aid of reality television. The show works like this: A rich, successful, 30-something guy goes to a beautiful location (SoCal coast, Parisian chateau, Italian villa, etc.) while 25 women vie for his affection. The first night that he meets the women he must eliminate 13 of them. This is not as difficult as you might imagine--all of the minorities, older women, and overweight women are eliminated at first (when I said "Cadillac" I meant white and stuffy). The remaining 12 women get eliminated by ones or twos over the next few weeks in "rose ceremonies". At the end of each episode, the bachelor goes into a courtyard where he has fewer roses to distribute than he has women remaining. Ultimately, he has one rose and two women left. These episodes are especially suspenseful.

Quality of Contestants
The Bachelor himself is always handsome, personable, and seems like an alright guy. One must keep in mind, however, that there must be a reason that he is in his 30s, attractive, and still single. I think that the show would be far more interesting if ABC picked a bachelor who was an average guy--it would be entertaining to see an overweight, balding, Paul Giamatti-type guy get to debate the merits of 25 wanna-be models. The girls are typically teachers or "marketing executives" in the 24 to 30 year-old range. The majority of them are beautiful, well-mannered women (remember, they were pre-screened for the possibility of being marriage material), save for the one or two lunatics that are thrown in the bunch to make the first few episodes more exciting. Two seasons ago, Travis the bachelor was met with a complete psycho who, within 10 minutes of meeting him, informed him that her eggs were growing old and that she needed to be fertilized soon. Needless to say, she was quickly excused from the show. This season's resident crazy was named Erica, a "socialite" from Houston who shockingly made it through 3 shows before getting the axe from bachelor Lorenzo.

Typical Date Activities
The Bachelor's dates are by far the most extravagant of all of these shows. The group dates that take place early in the show involve sightseeing in Europe, going to the beach, hot air balloons, etc. The later one-on-one dates include overnight trips across Europe. Not surprisingly, the women fall quickly in love with their rich, handsome date as he whisks them through the Alps or Monte Carlo. I actually feel bad for the women on this show; they seem sincerely in love with the bachelor, but in these circumstances they are set up for failure. When the final couple returns to the US and tries to have a normal, day-to-day relationship how are they supposed to interact when they are dealing with errands and cleaning their house when all they know as a couple is champagne and caviar? Alas, some couples aren't meant to be.

Final Elimination
Eliminations on The Bachelor come at the end of each hour-long episode in the afrementioned "rose ceremonies". The last rose ceremony is a choice between the final two women remaining. This ceremony can be somewhat uncomfortable to watch as the show tries so earnestly to be sincere. Since the participants have known each other for a few weeks (as opposed to a few hours), they have developed real feelings for each other. Watching a 30 year-old man cry on national television is never comfortable for anyone. ABC is constantly pushing the possibility of marriage on this show, but the bachelor almost never proposes to his final choice. They inevitably will break up, and the bachelor will move to LA where he will try to bed as many starlets as he can before the shine fades from his quasi-celebrity.

Wild Card
The Bachelor's key tactic in keeing its audience is that it does a good job of making you actually care about the characters. You want the nice guy to end up with the girl that you like, and to realize what a superficial tramp her opposition is. The downside to this is that if an audience favorite is eliminated prematurely, it can turn off a large portion of its viewers. The show is very addictive, but almost always leaves you dissatisfied in the end as you realize that neither character will continue to date, and essentially bilked ABC out a a free 3-week vacation in Europe.

Beyond a sense of basic escapism, I think that our affection for these shows derives from a lifetime of sappy romantic comedies and TV dramas. We know that this "reality TV" is anything but, yet we like this version of romance more than our own. We don't think of these people as existing in real life; we want them to live in a fake world of fantastic meals, sightseeing, and passionate professions of love. Similarly, we like to think that they mindless contestants of the earlier shows exist on a different planet where they emerge fully-formed from a TV show factory (this place is actually called LA, but forget that for the moment). The basic fact is that life is boring; that is not to say that it is sad or depressing, but no one's life is filled with constant stimulation and activity. Much time is spent driving to work, running errands, and doing the things that are necessary to prevent oneself from living in filth. We like the hyper-reality of these shows more than our lives, and for a short amount of time each week, we can leave our boring living room to either ridicule others or to pretend that somewhere, someone is living a life better than ours. We just don't realize that in actuality, that person is doing the same thing.

A Date That Shall Live in Infamy

2006-11-07T16:16:00.000-05:00

I am a fan of reality TV. A big, big, big fan. This is not to say that I am indiscriminate in my indulgence; there are certain shows that I watch religiously (and have earned coveted "season pass" status on my DVR), and there are certain shows that I have never watched and probably never will. However, my tastes in reality television stand in complete opposition to my tastes in scriped TV. As far as traditional television is concerned, I watch critically acclaimed, award-winning shows: The Office, Friday Night Lights, Studio 60, Nip/Tuck, Scrubs, Rescue Me, etc. I look with disdain upon the viewers of shows like Life with Jim, King of Queens, and any other drivel that recycles the same jokes that The Cosby Show was making 20 years ago. When it concerns reality TV, however, I am a devotee of the lowest of the low--that's right. I LOVE REALITY DATING SHOWS.

It doesn't matter which show: Elimidate, Fifth Wheel, Dismissed, Parental Control, Blind Date, The Bachelor. I love them all, and for different reasons. They are like my ugly, bastard children that I can't help but adore--only my closest friends friends know of my affection for them, but I secretly want to tell everyone I know about how I can't get enough of them. I will describe the shows in two parts and try to draw a conclusion in the second, though this seems unlikely. Without further ado:

Elimidate

Premise
One guy (or girl) goes out on a date with 4 members of the opposite sex. Over the course of the 30-minute show, the (un)lucky single has to whittle down his "dates" one-by-one until he is left with one lucky-ish girl.

Quality of Contestants
Elimidate is by far the trashiest of all the dating shows. It invariably involves a girl with comically large fake breasts (let's call her Tiffany) and a guy with copious amounts of gel in his hair who is typically wearing a wife-beater as a shirt (let's call him Tony). If one of the Tiffanys fails to openmouth kiss Tony (or vise versa) within the first 20 minutes, she is almost certainly going to be eliminated.

Typical Date Activites
These dates are pretty stereotypical of dating shows. All of the singles meet as a group (this almost always happens on a pier or next to a body of water. I have no idea why they do this). If the show is 4 girls with 1 guy, the girls will start making bitchy comments about the other girls within 5 seconds of meeting them. I am convinced that this is 90% of the show's appeal. After the initial introductions, the group will go to a bar and have a few drinks. The first open-mouth kiss typically happens at this first bar (there will absolultely be other bars). After this round of drinks is downed, one girl is eliminated. She is typically the girl who stared aghast at the other girls' behavior for the 5 minutes it took them to swill their Cosmopolitans.

After the dead weight has been hacked off, the now-foursome will proceed to an "activity" that the single has "chosen". This activity will definitely involve the removal of clothes (body painting, mutual massage, water volleyball, etc.).

Final Elimination
The show proceeds until there are 2 "women" left, and the guy tells them how hard it was to make a choice, but he has to choose one of them, and he will choose Tiffany. This final choice almost always happens in a hot tub, almost always happens right after the guy has made out with each girl in front of the other, and is almost never remembered by the contestants due to an alcohol-induced blackout.

Wild card
Each show has something that makes it unique (aside from the basic premise), and Elimidate specializes in the Final Goodbye. After an Elimidate contestant is kicked off the show, she has a one-on-one interview with the camera in which she gets to have a parting shot. Each girl "disses" the other "bitches" that remain, and tell Tony what he is missing (in most cases a lifetime of fake tanner and silicon poisoning). All in all, this trash makes for enthralling television as everyone involved is completely unaware of their moral bankruptcy and lack of intelligence.

Fifth Wheel

Premise
This show's contestants are the people who were rejected for being not slutty or greasy enough (keep in mind that this still allows for plenty of sluttiness or greasiness). In the first 20 minutes of this show 2 men and 2 women each spend a date with each other on a bus (seriously), trading halfway through. With 10 minutes remaining, however, a very-attractive new contestant enters the bus, and each contestant of the opposite sex of the "Fifth Wheel" (get it??) spends time with the new entry. At the end of the show, the contestants choose if they want a second date with either of the first two girls (or guys), or with the "Fifth Wheel". As a twist, however, the girls can veto being chosen.

Quality of Contestants
These daters are slightly older than the Elimidate crowd (late 20s compared to early-mid 20s), so they keep the boozing to a minimum. Imagine if the Elimidate contestants were 5 years older and were forced to get jobs that didn't involve wearing a bikini or working in a nightclub--that would be your typical Fifth Wheel contestant. As opposed to being the scum that gets caught in the hot tub filter, they are the people that get paid $5 an hour to clean the filter.

Typical Date Activities
As I said, the majority of the show is on a bus outfitted with couches and chairs. These dates center more around conversation than drunken insults. Typical conversations revolve around "my favorite drink", "my ex", or "I hate (insert other contestant)".

Final Elimination
At the end of the show, the members of opposite sex of the "5th wheel" get to choose their favorite girls, with the girls having veto power over the selections. As this show is not always capped off by a drunken, sloppy kiss involving multiple facial piercings it doesn't measure up to the other shows' farewells. I like to think that the contestants walk off the bus and immediately begin filming an episode of "Blind Date" (more on this later).

Wild Card
The producers evidently tried to blend "Pimp My Ride" with a dating show, and the result is mixed. Instead of poor Los Angelinos getting fish tanks in their cars or 22 year-olds discussing their favorite lat exercises, we are left with a group of people in their late 20s who are so undesirable that they are still single and have enough free time to take an entire day and sit on a stationary bus with complete strangers. Let's move on.

Dismissed

Premise
This was MTV's first foray into the world of reality dating shows (if you don't count "The Real World"). It centers around a "like-triangle" made up of three 17 or 18 year olds. The contestants of the same sex each have a "time out" card that they can use during their series of group dates that will allow them to spend 15 minutes alone with their date.

Quality of Contestants
The typical male "Dismissed" contestant is a 17 year-old from LA who looks like he was assembled at the MTV Village of the Damned. I swear to God that each one of these kids looks like he bought his hair gel, hemp necklace, skateboard, bracelet, and saggy jeans all together in a "MTV Real World/Road Rules Challenge starter kit". The girls aren't much better--fake tans, high heels, and the intellectual depth of a drop of dip spit.

Typical Date Activities
These dates involve little more than sitting on the beach. They are as interesting as this description.

Final Elimination
The girl chooses between the two guys, or vice versa (depending on the episode). This show recently got interesting when the producers created "Gay Dismissed". I have only seen a couple episodes of the gay version of the show, but I will say that it shows promise. This show's signature is that the "chooser" must say, "(Lance, Gabe, Thad, Chad, Jamie, etc.), you are dismissed." I think this is supposed to sting the loser, but in reality he is probably more concerned with his chemisty homework and how he is going to score some weed from his buddy's older brother later that afternoon.

Wild Card
This show's sole redeeming quality seems to be its de facto role as an audition for "Real World/Road Rules Challenge". In 5 years when some beefed-up dude is wearing an empty beer case on his head on the Challenge, we can all look back at his pre-steroid days and reminisce about simpler times.

Part 2 coming tomorrow.....

(No) Sex, (No) Lies, and Videotape

2006-10-31T14:18:00.000-05:00

A few follow-ups on previous entries with a lengthier post coming later:

--A few of you mentioned that you hadn't heard of the "backlash" against Dane Cook that I alluded to two posts ago. The same number of you told me that you didn't know who Dane was. For both of your edifications, here is an article from Rolling Stone that pretty clearly explains the most common complaits against him. Another article, this one from Pajiba, lets him off the hook moreso than Rolling Stone, but it provides a different (less angry) view of my man Dane.

--A couple people told me that they didn't appreciate Bottle Rocket upon their first viewing. While Bottle Rocket is certainly the type of movie that is appreciated more when viewed with friends (preferably ones that have seen the movie already), I wrote at the time that you have to let those films grow on you. You can't tell me that reading Dignan's 10- and 20-year plans aren't hilarious or that robbing one's own mother for "practice" isn't comic gold.

--"Boom goes the dynamite" isn't, as far as I know, staged. I am pretty sure that it is one guy's worst nightmare caught on tape for the whole world to see. If only he was born 5 years earlier, when YouTube wasn't there to show everyone what a doofus he is. At least he spawned a catchprase, which is more than I can say for myself.

More Human than Human

2006-10-24T17:07:00.000-04:00

I was sent this article by a friend today and thought I would pass it along. This sounds a little bit like Lake Wobegon, where "the women are strong, the men are good looking, and all the children are above average." Too bad for the people living in the 3000s, though. However, with the way the world is headed these days they will be lucky if they are not living in a hellish inferno.

Come on, monkey. Do us all a favor.

2006-10-20T15:06:00.000-04:00

Some quick-hit thoughts today. Sorry for the lengthy absence--I have been busy with my real (read: paying) job and haven't been able to channel the needed mental energy that I use to write this blog. I am going to throw a few quick hits out there for you, and I will be back soon with a long post. Enjoy.

1. I know that I am not the first person who has brought this up, but I couldn't be happier about the recent backlash against Dane Cook. He is inarguably the most popular comic in American right now (HBO series, HBO special, hit movie, SNL host, tabloid star), but I have never laughed at his routine. Ever. The origin of Dane's schtick seems to be thus: come up with an unoriginal premise, present it for a few paltry laughs, then repeat it louder and louder until people start laughing. I really think that people laugh at his "jokes" so that he will think they liked it and he will move on to the next one. Everytime I see him on TV I keep assuming that he is just giving a lengthy build up to a good joke, but the joke never comes. He evidently subscribes to the school of thought that if something isn't funny the first time, it sure as hell will be funny the 15th time.

I hear people say that they like his humor, but I have never actually seen anyone watch him on TV or repeat any of his jokes. I think most "Dane Cook fans" like the "idea" of his humor, because it means that they are tapped in to hip popular culture. It is the classic "cool by association" argument, except it falls short in this case because Dane Cook isn't that cool. He is a Boston native and self-professed Red Sox fan who was seen on his HBO series with a Yankees hat on. No real Red Sox fan would ever do this even as a joke. I think that Dane wants to claim the Sox because they present the same sort of hip cache that so many people think that Dane himself offers. It's a vicious cycle. Basically, Dane Cook sucks and the sooner that we all admit it the sooner we can all move on to someone else that will make us feel cool.

2. I've got a few music and movie suggestions for you guys out there. Some of these might seem strange at first, but give them a shot. I promise they'll grow on you.

Bottle Rocket--Wes Anderson's first feature film, it was originally a short that he made with his buddies from the University of Texas, Luke and Owen Wilson. Unfortunately Wes' films have fallen off as of late (The Life Aquatic sucked and you can't convince me otherwise), but Bottle Rocket is an amazingly confident effort from a first-time director. How they convinced James Caan to be in the film is beyond me.

Rushmore--While we're on the subject of Wes Anderson, I might as well throw in his sophomore effort. Obviously better funded, it has Bill Murray in the first of what has become his signature role of late--essentially acting like himself. He debuts his self-loathing middle-aged role here alongside Jason Schwartzman. Rushmore is a very touching movie, and pay attention to the ending. It's one of the best and most film-appropriate you'll find.

Big Fish--Arguably Tim Burton's best movie (it's by far his most accessible). To call Big Fish a father-son movie or a retelling of a man's life story would be criminal; there is no proper description for this moving story of love and misunderstanding. The ending is guaranteed to make you cry like a baby.

My Morning Jacket, Z--The follow up to their breakout album, It Still Moves, Z is rocking, haunting, silly, sad, and beautiful. "Gideon", "Lay Low", "Dondante", and "How Could I Know" are all standout tracks on an album by a band that manages to combine Southern rock know-how with a garage sound that is slickly produced without sounding derivative (like this review). Basically, I am telling you to buy this album. Listen to it 3 times all the way through, and you won't be sorry.

Velvet Underground, Loaded--For a band that wrote most of its songs about heroin, the Velvet Underground manage to sound pretty darn cheery. The rare rock band that has been mythologized before it's members' deaths, it is interesting to listen to this album and see how The Strokes, et al lucked out by managing to sound like a crappy band from the 60s but were fortunate to have songs good enough to overcome it. This is the same trick that Velvet Underground pulled off. All of this is made even weirder when you realize that their singer later became an actor, sang the song "The Wild Side", and is obsessed with Sumarais.

Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot--The best album from a great band. I would name the best songs for you, but they're all terrific. It reaffirms my belief that no one in Hollywood knows what they're doing when I remember that not only did Wilco's record company dislike this record, but YHF caused the band to be completey fired from their label. Turns out, it's regarded as one of the best albums of the past decade, if not all time. Good call, record company. Way to think that one through.

Excellence in Broadcasting (But not like Rush Limbaugh)

2006-10-12T11:59:00.000-04:00

I have been pretty busy this week with my REAL job (the one that pays me), so I haven't had time to entertain you with my wit and insight. However, in light of YouTube's purchase by Google, I decided to share some of my favorite YouTube videos. Before you write these two off, remember: today's "Boom Goes the Dynamite" could be tomorrow's "Boo-Ya!" But hopefully not.

The Next Stuart Scott

The Next Willard Scott

Amateur Hour

2006-10-05T15:51:00.000-04:00

This post grew out of a conversation I had with my friend Wes, who is the one person I know that is more of a sports dork than I am. If you have any comments about anything either of us says, feel free to post a comment below. The discussion began by me asking Wes, "How do you feel about the NCAA and their concept of amateurism as it relates to today’s revenue generating sports?"

Wes: I pretty much consider the NCAA and the majority of its policies a joke. There's an old story about Chris Webber when he was at Michigan. He was walking down the street one day, and saw his jersey being sold in the window of a campus bookstore. He was hungry, and went to McDonald's to get a fish sandwich, but didn't have enough money. This upset him slightly, even though he was already getting money from a booster named Ed Martin (I think) who happened to die of a heart attack during his trial. That's why the Fab Five never really existed, but that's another story. Sort of.

The NCAA makes millions of dollars in revenue off of sports every year. If you can find the stats, you'll see how much each school makes (it's amazing and UGA is one of the top three I think). The vast majority of this money comes from football, and the next most (in a lot of cases) comes from basketball. The irony behind the whole thing is that most of the athletes playing these sports probably would not have been able to attend the university that they are at without the help of that university. Therefore, athletes get scholarships. These scholarships pay for the individual to get his/her education, which is the reason all athletes go to college and should be more than enough reason for the athlete. HOWEVER, as mentioned above, most of these athletes are poor, and need money for food, etc. I believe NCAA rules do not allow athletes to have jobs, and even if they did, none of them really have that much time. In the end, it doesn't really matter anyway because if you go to a big enough school, then some booster is going to give you all the money that you need anyway. You just can't get caught, like Webber.

Hugs and Hand Pounds: A McDonald’s fish sandwich? That’s disgusting.

Webber’s taste in fast food aside, I agree with you that college players often feel justified in accepting money from boosters when they see how much others are making off of their athletic performance. The current NCAA system is almost a modern form of indentured servitude—you have to work for a few years for nothing before you earn the right to make a wage. This would be fine if everyone involved in the endeavor was operating in the same spirit of altruistic amateurism. However, the athlete is the only person involved who isn’t profiting off of their prowess, all under the guise of an antiquated idea of “amateurism”, as if college athletes are unspoiled by money and would be sullied if they accepted money in return for their performance.

The one point I don’t agree with you on is when you say that, “These scholarships pay for the individual to get his/her education, which is the reason all athletes go to college…” In the case of the type of athletes that aspire to play professionally, this is not the case. These athletes view college as a means to an end; the end is a lucrative professional career, and the means is having to sit through a few hours of class per day. We are deluding ourselves if we think that these athletes view the academic part of their lives as anything but an inconvenience. To them, college sports are a farm system for sports in which a viable alternative doesn’t exist. College football and basketball present the best chance to get into the NFL and NBA, respectively. If there were professional minor leagues that became as popular with the pros as college sports are now (i.e. minor league baseball), there would be mass defections away from the USCs and Dukes of the world.

The strange thing is that this doesn’t bother me AT ALL. Reggie Bush doesn’t care about his education? Big Deal. Neither did Deion Sanders 20 years ago. And during that time period, the dinosaurs at the NCAA have refused to admit what we all know: these athletes are doing nothing more than putting in their time in school until they can turn pro, and if they could skip academics all together, they would. I say that we allow them to accept endorsements, and we treat them like the temporary mercenaries that they already are.

W: I was being sarcastic when I said that an education is the reason that athletes go to college. Of course they don't. The vast majority of them have a dream that they will star at whatever sport they play, and then become a professional. There are reasons why athletes receive tutors that regular students don't. They are the same reasons why these tutors have the answers to most tests. Everyone is happy when the athlete stays eligible and stars on the playing field. If you look at the graduation rates for football and basketball, it won't surprise you that most hover around 50% (or worse). In fact, many seniors who are praised for staying for four years only do so to improve their draft status (with obvious rare exceptions). Many top football players drop out of school as soon as the season is over, and go to Arizona or Florida to prepare for the draft. Why wouldn't they? They are preparing themselves to be a professional and make the most money possible.

Like you said, college sports are really just a farm system for pro sports, with the exception of baseball. It would bother me for college kids to get endorsements though. I don't mind jersey sales or team product sales (maybe athletes get a cut of whatever merchandise their team sells). Could you imagine the flood of markets in small, college towns though? In Chapel Hill, Athens, Austin, Columbus, etc would all have businesses lining up out the door to get a hold of kids. And in the end (no matter how little people care), you can't have kids spending all their time doing commercials and not practicing, studying (no matter how little of that happens), and being kids.

H&HP: I see your point about endorsements. As much as I hate its hypocrisy, I wouldn’t want to college game to be dominated by commercialization in the same way that the NFL is. So, what do you suggest to fix the situation? Is there any way to create an incentive program to help out these athletes without starting down a slippery slope and ruining their incentive?

W: I'm not really sure there is an easy way to fix the situation, and that might be the reason why no solution has been created. There are so many collegiate athletes that it would be impossible to help them all. How is it fair that a third string tailback that has no hope of playing at the next level is compensated, but a swimmer that may eventually be an Olympian is not. Sure, football brings in more money than swimming, but in terms of relative skill level, the swimmer is much more relative than the football player. I really don't think that there is a way to create a program, it blows for the athletes, but that's just the way it is. In the end, it might just be better for the boosters to control everything. I also think that players are in contact with agents well before they are out of their amateur status as well. If you don't think that people like Reggie Bush want to look out for their family, then you are crazy. If someone approached you and said that they'd give your family a nice place to stay, and all you had to do was sign with him, would you not listen? Who cares if your team has to forfeit a few games, the only people who are going to care about that in the long run are the alumni and fans. Those same alumni and fans who worship the ground that athletes walk on and would (in a heartbeat) buy them dinner or give them ride (no matter how illegal).

H&HP: I agree with your point about major vs. minor sports, and I agree that there may not be an easy solution or even a solution at all. The only way in which anything is really going to change is if the NCAA brings in s reformer, but that is about as likely to happen as the institution of a football playoff system. Speaking of which……

On a Serious Note

2006-10-04T11:15:00.000-04:00

Ray Ray McElrathbey is a freshman on the Clemson Tigers football team and a full-time student. He also has full custody of his 11 year-old brother, Fahmarr. The boys' mother is addicted to crack cocaine and their father is a gambling addict whose whereabouts are unknown. This summer, Ray Ray was faced with the option of assuming custody of his brother or allowing Fahmarr to go into foster care in Atlanta. He made the tough choice.

Now I know that the previous paragraph sounded like Rick Reilly climbed inside my body and started typing, but this story deserves your attention. Since Ray Ray is a Division I scholarship athelete, he is unable to get a job to support either himself or his brother. For the first time that I can remember, the NCAA DIDN'T completely fuck over one of their athletes, and they issued a waiver that allowed a trust to be created for Fahmarr's expenses.

I am a 24 year-old with a college degree and a job that pays me more than I need to live a comfortable life as a single person, and I still manage to screw up more than I don't. I can't imagine being a 19 year-old college freshman who has to raise and 11 year-old and, oh yeah, try to make it to the NFL. Below is the information for sending a donation to the trust that will pay for Fahmarr's expenses. It is going to be closely monitored so that no money is wasted--consider it the "Anti-Katrina" fund. I'll be back tomorrow with some more sarcastic junk for you to waste your time with, but I urge you to help these two boys out if you can in the meantime. Thanks.

All checks should be made payable to First Citizen F/B/O Fahmarr McElrathbey and can be mailed to:

Fahmarr McElrathbey Trust
C/O First Citizens and Olson, Smith, Jordan and Cox Attorneys at Law
PO Box 1627
Clemson, SC 29633

Spartacus in the Outback

2006-09-28T13:33:00.000-04:00

You have probably never seen the movie The Man from Snowy River. If you have, you might not even remember it. Oddly, the movie is about a boy (not a man), and the "Snowy River" doesn't factor into the story at all. In fact, there isn't even any snow in the whole film. What this movie does have is Kurt Douglas (in two roles), Australian actress Sigrid Thornton in one of the ultimate "hot or not?" roles, and Canadian Tom Burlinson as Jim Craig, the titular character. The plot is basically thus:

Jim lives in the Australian highlands with his father in the early 1900s. Apparently his mother died some time ago and the two of them are best friends. If this movie had been made 25 years later the "Brokeback" factor would have made this living situation laughable, but apparently Reagan-era cinema was less cynical that we are today. Jim's father is killed in a timber accident when a pack of wild horses disturbs his work horse and the tree his is cutting collapses on him. Jim is forced to go live with his father's crazy friend Spur (think Bryan Cox taking in the young William Wallace in Braveheart), who is played by Kirk Douglas in his first of two appearances in the movie. Spur is a wily old coot who is obsessed with finding gold on his property. Jim leaves soon after the funeral to go to town and try to make some money. In the next scene, he inexplicably appears on a train platform as an expensive horse is being unloaded from a train car. Jim is able to calm the horse when it bucks its guide, and he gets the attention of a rich man named Harrison. Harrison is also played by none other than Kirk Douglas! At this point in the movie, we are not supposed to know that Harrison and Spur are twin brothers (this is revealed as a twist later on, yet the only difference between the two characters is that Spur has a peg leg and a beard, while Harrison is suavely dressed and is clean shaven. They are also the only characters in the movie that do not speak with an Australian accent). Jim goes to work as a ranch hand on Harrison's farm, and subsequently falls in love with Harrison's rebellious, tomboy daughter Jessica (Thornton). One day, while secretly training Harrison's prize horse while he is away on business, the same pack of wild horses returns (I suspect that these horses are supposed to represent Jim's wild past, but they come across as bizarre interlopers and nothing more) and causes the prize stallion to injure his foot. Harrison returns, finds the injury, fires Jim, and Jessica runs away. She gets lost in the mountains and Jim sets out to find her (which, of course, he does). She declares her love for him (keep in mind they are both about 17 years old), and Jim takes her to Spur's house. Harrison comes to Spur's house to bring Jessica home, it is revealed that they are brothers (!), and it is hinted that Spur is, in fact, Jessica's biological father. In the end, everyone lives happily ever after. That is pretty much the whole movie. I have two main points about this film--one is incidental, and the other is quite remarkable.

When I was young, this movie played on the Disney channel ALL THE TIME. In my memory, this movie came on every day after school, every Saturday night, and every morning while I was getting ready for school. I remember thinking that The Man from Snowy River was the greatest movie ever made, that I was going to train horses in the Outback some day, and that I would one day romance rebellious teenage girls with my proficiency in classical piano (I didn't mention that Jim is a piano whiz? Sorry, I thought that would have been obvious from his upbringing in a wooden shack). I loved this movie when I was 7 years old; watching it 17 years later, it is obvious that the movie was made for children. The plot twists are virtually telegraphed, the dialogue is hackneyed, and there is about 10 minutes of dramatic tension in the entire film. I get the feeling that it was intended to be a children's movie that offered a little something for the parents that would have to sit through it (pretty scenery, horses, a good score, etc.) It was basically Shrek before Shrek came along . When realizing the actual public reception of this movie, however, these assumptions quickly appear dead wrong.

Americans like this movie. It is safe, fun, and entertaining. Australians, however, LOVE this movie. They love it with a fervency that Americans have never expressed for a film. When it was released in Australia in 1982, The Man from Snowy River immediately became the first ever Australian-made film to be the #1 movie at the Australian box office. Sigrid Thornton (who played Jessica) went on to become a nationally beloved and award-winning television actress. Tom Burlinson moved back to Canada, but was treated like the prodigal son of Australia when he returned to film the movie's sequel, Return to Snowy River. The country used the movie's score as the official song of the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney, and the poem on which the movie was based was read at the games' opening ceremony. The film was turned into a stage production that toured Australia and won repeated awards. Most amazing of all, the movie's titular character is commemorated on every $10 note in the Australian currency. In this sense, the Australian culture reveres this movie with the same respect that Americans do their greatest former Presidents (except for Grant. No one is really sure how he got on the $50). In Australian cinema, this movie is the down under equivalent of Titanic, Citizen Kane, Ronald Reagan, Legends of the Fall, and The Lion King all rolled into one.

So am I suggesting that you go see this movie? The best answer I can give is: I guess. If you led a sedentary adolescence like I did and you want to relive your past, it is a wonderful way to spend 90 minutes. If you have kids and you don't want to watch The Wiggles for the 500th time, you could do worse than TMFSN. However, if you want to be completely dumbfounded as to the cinematic tastes of our friendly neighbors from the Southern hemisphere, this movie is perfect for you.

Overall rating: 1 fatherly Hug, and a girly Hand Pound

We Don't Care About Nobody 'Cept this U

2006-09-25T17:17:00.000-04:00

Because I'm a soldier!

Confessions of a Benedict Arnold

2006-09-25T15:30:00.000-04:00

I have to confess--I was happy to see the European team win the Ryder Cup this weekend. They played better than we did, they drank better than we did, they had more fun than we did, and they celebrated better than we did. From Darren Clarke's heartbreaking tragedy (his wife died from cancer 6 weeks ago) to Paul Casey's emergence as a Ryder Cup force, to Sergio's continuted demolition of anyone and everyone he plays in this competition, the European team had me at, "Cheers." I will be a Tiger apologist to the day I die (and a Phil-hater just as long), but Le Tigre's prowess was 1/10th of what was needed to beat the Euros on their home turf. I won't go into extreme detail as to how pathetic our performance was (although it shouldn't be much of a surprise since we get whipped every time), but suffice it to say that the US is in big trouble going to forward as the Euros are young, they are friends, and they don't seem to have a weakness. Maybe if the matches are scheduled early in the morning and we can convince them to drink more Guinness we might have a shot. On second thought, nevermind.

Ryders on the Storm

2006-09-20T13:56:00.000-04:00

This week the 12 best golfers (maybe) from America travel to Orlando--err, Ireland for the 36th edition of the Ryder Cup matches. This year's competition will be held at the K Club in Straffan, Ireland, and pits the United States team against the 12 best golfers from all of Europe. First, a VERY brief history of the Ryder Cup:

In 1926 British seed merchant Samuel Ryder decided that that there should be a biennial competition between the best golfers from America and the best golfers from Great Britain (the team was expanded to include Ireland in 1973 and continental Europe in 1979) to foster sportsmanship between the two continents. After decades of US dominance, the Euros began to win their own share of Cups, to the point that the US of A was no longer considered the prohibitive favorite or even the favorite at all. By 1991 the US team showed up to the matches wearing camouflage (this really happened) and the event at Kiawah Island was referred to as the War by the Shore. It is safe to assume that sportsmanship had become a secondary concern at best when, in 1999 at The Country Club, the American fans openly and loudly made fun of Scot Colin Montgomerie's weight and the American team celebrated their victory 10 minutes before it actually happened by running through Jose Maria Olazabal's putting line. Standing on the balcony of the clubhouse and spraying magnums of Dom Perignon into the crowd afterwards (this also really happened) probably wasn't the savviest PR move, either. Though some of the event's civility has been restored since then, both teams’ fans still take the event a little too seriously.

Over the past decade the US has fallen from cocky favorite to gritty underdog, even though the top 3 ranked players in the world play for the stars and stripes. I won't go into great depths as to why this is, as ESPN.com writes the exact same articles every time the Cup takes place, rehashing old theories as to why the seemingly superior Yanks fall to the scrappy Euros. In truth, we lose because of a combination of five factors:

The American golfers are richer and, therefore, not as hungry to win. The Ryder Cup has no purse for the winning team, and it is hard for 12 athletes who have been trained to be mercenaries for their entire careers to suddenly subjugate their capitalistic urges for the good of the team. When you are used to playing by yourself for $1.2 million on a weekly basis the concepts of "team" and "amateurism" are hard to grasp.
The Euros like each other a lot more than the Americans do. Most of the European team travels together from event to event on the European tour, while the Americans each fly on their own private jet. The Euros drink, eat, and vacation together while the Americans live their careers as lone wolves. It's no coincidence that Tiger's friends on tour are all 20 years older than he is--they were all past their respective primes when he started competing against them and, therefore, were not threats to his dominance. He and Phil don't play in each other's member-guest tournaments, if you get my drift.
The American team does not consist of the 12 best golfers from the US. The US team is derived from a points system in which players are rewarded for top 10 finishes on the PGA Tour. This system is fundamentally broken, and the dinosaurs that run the world of golf are too old and blind to change it. This worked when the PGA Tour was 90% American: the vast majority of the top 10 in each tournament would be Americans and therefore, points would be distributed accurately. However, as the PGA has become more and more international, it is conceivable that only 4 players in the top 10 in a given tournament would be American. Therefore, only 4 Americans would receive any points at all that week (the leftover points won by non-Americans are not distributed to the Americans in the field). Therefore, one could be the 5th (or 4th, or 3rd) best American in a tournament, yet finish well outside of the overall top 10 in that tournament and receive no points. Simply stated, placing between 11th and 40th is much tougher than it was when the points system was devised, but those finishes are ignored.
Higher purses have ruined the judging criteria. When every tournament had a small, nearly identical purse, the best golfers were spread out evenly through the season (golfers choose which tournaments they want to play). Now, there are elite events (lots of $ to be won) in which every good American plays, and there are an equal number of substandard events (small amount of $ to win) in which none of the A level players compete. Unfortunately, a 5th place finish in an elite tournament against the best competition wins you just as many points as a 5th place finish against a group of also-rans. If one were content making a smaller amount of money he could greatly improve his chances of making the team by selectively playing when Tiger, Phil, et. al. were snorkeling in the Bahamas or fishing in Alaska. Also, the points system is not an index; players qualify by aggregate score, not average finish. Therefore, the more tournaments you play, the better your chances of making the team are. Here's an example: Player A plays 10 tournaments over a season, and has 1 win, a 5th place finish, an 8th place finish, and never finishes out of the top 30. His average finish is in the top 15. Player B plays 25 tournaments, and has 1 win, a 5th place finish, a 7th place finish, 15 finishes between 20th and 40th, and misses 8 cuts. Player A is obviously a much more consistent (and, most likely, better) golfer than player B. However, with the current point structure, Player B would make the team over Player A. This may seem like a remote occurrence, but this stuff happens ALL THE TIME. Don't believe me? When Brett Wetterich, J.J. Henry, and Vaughn Taylor are all getting trounced this Sunday and you ask yourself where Davis Love III and Fred Couples are, remember what you read here. Who in the hell is Vaughn Taylor, you may ask? My point exactly.
The Americans are spoiled. They are used to playing 15 weeks a year and making $5 million, while the Europeans play for smaller purses and therefore, are used to playing more for less. The Americans don't like playing in late September (when the matches are held) as it is often cold and rainy. The Euros are used to playing all year long in weather than makes Seattle look like San Diego. The Americans are used to having everything come to them as far as service, food, and accommodations. When they travel to Europe they must deal with small rooms, bad food, and unfamiliar languages. They are basically exactly like the rest of America in this sense, yet I digress.

So why do so many people who don't regularly follow golf treat this event so seriously? Why does Sports Illustrated refer to the Ryder Cup as "The Biggest Event in Sports"? Don't the Olympics or international basketball appeal to a larger audience? I honestly have no idea. I don't know why, for the 3 days every other year, Joe from Iowa gets charged up to see a couple of dorky white guys from Florida play a couple of goofy Brits in a game he almost never watches on TV. If you have an opinion as to why a golf exhibition excites people to point of pouring beer over a stranger's head solely because of where he was born (see: Brookline, 1999), either comment at the end of this blog entry or send me a reply to spencerkarney@gmail.com. I'll work the best ones into a posting early next week.

I am off to Dover, Delaware tomorrow and Friday for this weekend's NASCAR race, so this will be the last post for this week. If Delaware is as exciting as Wayne and Garth said it was, I'm sure I'll be ready to kill myself by the time the green flag drops. I'll check back in on the comments over the weekend and I'll be back on Monday. In the meantime, U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

Onward to Victory

2006-09-19T13:38:00.000-04:00

Notre Dame hasn't been an elite college football program since I was in 2nd grade. Over the past 18 years they have been about as good as Bill Snyder's Kansas State teams during the same time period. They have each had 3 or 4 pretty good years (Top 5 ranking late in the season), they have each had a good number of awful seasons, but most of the time they have been pretty average. In fact, it wouldn't be hard to ague that K State has been a better program over the same time period. However, there is a reason why my mom knows who Touchdown Jesus is and why she thinks that Bill Snyder used to host a boring late-night show that was so painfully unwatchable that he was replaced by Carson Daly.

Notre Dame has an exclusive TV contract with NBC. This means that every one of their games is shown on national television nearly every Saturday for 4 months, regardless of whether or not the Golden Domers could barely beat Duke that season. Florida State, on the other hand, while having dominated the 1990s unlike any other program in the sport's history, has many of its games blacked out outside the state of Florida if their game is against a marginal opponent. The reasons for this are both small and large. One of these small reasons is that, simply, more people like Notre Dame than like FSU. There are Notre Dame fans in every state in the country, largely because the school has long been independent of any conference (joining a conference would identify them with a portion of the country and thereby regionalize their identity--in this case the midwest. Not the most desirable TV market). NBC needs ad revenue, so it is in their best interest to make ND seem as good as possible every season to drive viewership higher. Thirdly, the NCAA likes to put Notre Dame forth as the embodiment of what it wants its football schools to be--the players graduate at a high rate, they don't get caught with either drugs or guns, they go to a very exclusive university, and the community and the school support the team like maniacs. The NCAA needs to have a program to point to and say, "See (insert troublesome program here), this is how you are supposed to behave." If Darius Walker went all "Maurice Clarett" on them, the boys in Bloomington would be in serious trouble.

I also think there is a much larger reason why the powers that be are always promoting ND as much as possible, and I think it says more about sports as a whole than it does specifically about Brady Quinn and Co. Notre Dame gets promoted (even when they stink) for the same reasons that the Grammys get pimped by every news outlet (even though no one watches them) and there are ten articles per week written about whether or not Brett Favre will regain his old form (when it is clear that the team should have dealt him months ago and gotten what they could for him). We like comfort, and sports is not exempt from this desire. We want the Grammys to matter like they used to (even though they haven't for 15 years), and we want Brett Favre to complete miracle passes and win Super Bowls (even though he's no better than Jake Plummer at this point).

For every hardcore fan who tells you that they root for the Devil Rays whenever they play the Yankees, there are 100 more fans who are pulling for the Yanks. Deep down, though we may root for David to play valiantly against Goliath, we secretly don't want David to win. If David wins, our entire value set is thrown off, and we have to reevalutate everything we have been told about who is good and who isn't.

If Tiger Woods wins the British Open, he is good. If Ben Curtis wins over Tiger, he got lucky. If Duke wins the NCAA basketball tournament we go to sleep and think, "Well, they must have been the best team all year. The experts were right." If George Mason wins we think, "Wow, I can't believe that. There's no way they were really the best. Something fluky must have happened. I bet Duke would beat them if they played again." Hegemony is easy. Hegemony makes sense. Hegemony lets us sleep easy at night. We like to see ND win because it means that all is right with the world. Even though most of us are loathe to admit it, we want them on that wall. We NEED them on that wall. In the end we want David's rock to go straight for Goliath's head and barely clip the giant's ear. Then, once Goliath stomps on David, we can all say, "Phew. That was close. Hey Dude, turn it to ESPN. I think the Yankees are playing Tampa Bay."

If at first you don't succeed.....

2006-09-13T10:32:00.000-04:00

It appears that I wasn't alone in my wishes for the demise of "Boo-Ya Era" at ESPN. It is reported that a major shake-up is underway in central Connecticut and that Screamin' A. Smith and his buddies are quietly being shown the door. Now if they are able to lure Charley Steiner back from the left coast we will REALLY be in business.

Osama, LiLo and Saint Dale

2006-09-12T09:43:00.000-04:00

Over the past 14 months I have been to 23 NASCAR races. I have spent 66 nights in hotels and flown on 47 commercial airline flights. I have visited 16 NASCAR tracks and shaken the hands of nearly every single man to fire up a Nextel Cup stock car in the past two years. I have learned more about America and Americans in the past year than I ever expected that I would. For instance, rednecks in New Hampshire and rednecks in Southern California are essentially the same, save for their accents. I have worn a sweater in California in June and I wore a bathing suit in Homestead in November. Despite having to grapple with a cross section of America that I never even imagined I would come to know, what really sticks with me is how NASCAR's popularity (and, not coincidentally, that of Lindsay Lohan) has been enabled by 9/11.

A couple of you told me that I should write an entry about 9/11, but I couldn't stand to write or read anything that rehashed how horrible that day was. I decided instead to write about two things that Americans seem to care about far more than the War on Terror--namely, NASCAR and Lindsay Lohan--and try to figure out WHY it is that these two segments of popular culture seem to dominate above all others.

As I have traveled around the country and talked to NASCAR fans in every corner of the map, I have been struck by two things: their passion for the sport they love and their almost complete lack of knowledge about that very sport. I have met dozens of men and women who have Dale Earnhardt Sr.'s number or likeness tattooed onto their bicep, whose every inch of clothing is either black and silver in honor of their deceased hero or red and black to support His Only Son, and who can speak for hours on whether Jimmie Johnson or Jeff Gordon is "gayer". I have failed to find, however, a single one of these fans who can tell me why Dale Earnhardt Jr. seems to struggle on 1.5 mile tracks or why the #24 car excels on road courses. These die-hard fans of all things NASCAR love their sport with a fervor reserved for only the most rabid of SEC football fans, yet they can hardly tell you a thing about the actual execution of the sport they love. They are blissfully unconcerned with the hirings and firings within the garages, Hendrick Motorsports' especially tight suspensions in the chassis of their cars, or the small fuel cells at the races in Charlotte. Conversely, if you visit an Auburn fan in Alabama he will probably be more than happy to tell you how the offense will run differently with Kenny Irons in the backfield than when Ronnie Brown and the Cadillac were carrying the ball for the Tigers, or how Tommy Tuberville got a raw deal by the Auburn AD a few years ago when the University interviewed other coaches behind his back. What does NASCAR fans' lack on enthusiasm for the "nuts and bolts" (pun intended) of their sport have to do with Lindsay Lohan and? Man, have you come to the right place.

Since 9/11, the increase in sales and sheer number of celebrity magazines has grown at what seems to be a kudzu-like pace. Between Star, Us Weekly, People, InTouch, Rolling Stone and the 15 blogs that I can't help but run into every time I turn on the computer, I am constantly saturated with Jessica Simpson's love for and subsequent break-up with John Mayer (that jerk, what was he thinking?). Lindsay Lohan's new tattoos (so tacky), Paris Hilton's DUI (come on, she said she only had one margarita), and Jessica Alba's ass (niiiiiiiice). These people are constant figures in my daily online life, and I'm not even sure if I enjoy their presence or if I am becoming stupider for reading about them by the nanosecond. But here's the rub: I think I and most other Americans don't mind the idiocy that passes for entertainment in 2006. I think we like it because it's easy. I think that we worship at the church of Saint Dale and glorify his apostle LiLo because Osama bin Laden has made the rest of the world too damn scary.

When we woke up on September 12, 2001, we all probably knew that we were going to be met with headlines about suicide bombers and campaigns of "regime change" for a long time. This seemed fine for a while, because we were all mad and rightfully so and wanted revenge. But as time drug on we became scared because these headlines didn't go away. If anything, we had to deal with the prospect of being blown up at any moment as well as being hated by nearly every other country around the world. It was to Dale, Jeff, Jimmie, Rusty, Lindsay, Jessica, and Paris that we turned in this time of need.

We turned to NASCAR because it is loud, easy, and simple. The good guys get cheered, the bad guys get booed. Junior's Red #8 Budweiser car looks bad ass, it runs over 200 miles an hour nearly every week, and fans of any age can drink themselves into a stupor while cheering for their favorite driver, intricacies be damned, because when it all gets boiled down it is much easier to get blackout drunk and yell at the top of your lungs than it is to deal with the reality that any day now something really, really awful is going to happen.

Similarly, the non-sporting section of our nation turned to the travails of a group of uneducated, hedonistic, good looking idiots (or in Paris' case, ugly rich people) to take our minds off of what was going on in the rest of the world. 300 million people who are stuggling to pay their bills can, ironically, make more sense of Nick and Jessica's break-up (two rich people who live in Malibu that they will never meet) than they can with the abstract hatred of democracy and the desire of a group of people halfway around the world to found a hard-line Islamic empire. Hollywood is the Talladega of celebrity culture: it is loud and fast, no one knows what they're talking about, almost no one has all of their clothes on, and it is both expected and excused to be chemically altered for most of the time you're awake.

So where do we go from here? As long as Lindsay Lohan keeps wearing clothes that have the consistency of wax paper and Junior keeps drinking Bud and we keep talking about the time his daddy won the 500, I don't see any of us turning to news of Condi's negotiations with President Ahmadinejhad when there's an E! True Hollywood story about Nicole Richie on TV. I just hope that I get my hands on some tickets to the night race at Bristol before I have make the Hajj.

Musings on "Fandom" or: Why Stuart Scott is The Devil

2006-09-11T11:38:00.000-04:00

As you may or may not have noticed, the title of this blog is in reference to Stuart Scott, illustrious UNC alum, Sportscenter anchor, host of Stump the Schwab, and the bain of my existence as a sports fan. Growing up, I remember SportsCenter as my primary source for sports highlights, easy morning humor, and pre school-day father-son bonding. These were the wonderful days of the "Big Show" with Keith Olbermann and Dan Patrick, Charley Steiner and Jack Edwards, Shelley Smith reporting from a team's practice facility in her chubby glory, and the wonderful "na-na-nah, na-na-nah" theme song. All was well in the world of sports information on television.

This all changed when the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill bestowed a bachelor's degree upon Stuart Scott. Though "Stu" didn't start to work for ESPN until well after he entered the world of sportscasting, it was at this point that he started down his path of ruining sports as we all knew it. Peppering his broadcasts with exhortations like, "Raise up, son!", "Can I get a witness?", and his ever popular "Booya!", Stu inspired a legion of TV's talking heads to remove all subtelty and dignity from their broadcasts (see: MSNBC's Jim Cramer). I get the feeling that Peter Gammons' recent aneurysm was at least in part brought on by the propect of a whole generation of sportswriters being inspired by Stuart Scott in the same way this his generation was inspired by Jim Ryan, Herbert Warren Wind, and David Halberstam.

Stu wasn't alone in his efforts to destroy modern American sports reporting, though. Much like Anakin Skywalker needed the Emperor to realize the power of the Dark Side that lay within him, Stu needed a dark mentor to put him in the right position and help him to realize just how much he could annoy the American sporting public. It was in Mark Shapiro that Stu would find his Palpatine.

Shaprio (since departed from ESPN, though I fear that it's too late) created what is now referred to as "Sportstainment". Sportstainment is what you see whenever you watch nearly every modern sportscast or televised game (though college football broadcasts are largely devoid of this trend, thank God). Ol' Mark decided that, "Hey, you know what people love? Sports AND movies! Let's combine the two. If anyone feels sensory overload, screw 'em! There are 100 million idiots out there that will love it!" Now, just a few years later, every SportsCenter broadcast begins with 1500 highlights being shown at warp speed so that teams and players are barely distinguishable from one another. Each show is capped off with something called "The Ultimate Highlight" which is, ironically, anything but. It is essentially a music video for a generic band's Nickelback-esque new single-though last week's use of Blue Oyster Clut's "Godzilla" was a pleasant shock, it was definitely the exception, not the rule-and the highlights being shown have no sense of continuity. I can only assume that Shapiro's minions hope to induce seizures in all of us with the lights and sound thereby rendering us unable to change the channel and express our dissatisfaction through our Neilsen boxes.

This phenomenon is not exclusive to ESPN or even TV sports. Truth be told, Fox sports is a much worse perpretrator of glorifying Sportstainment than ESPN, though the Worldwide Leader is a much more visible venue. My worst fear is that Anakin and Palpatine have reached through the television screen and infected the daily behavior of those on whom they report, as well the behavior of the sporting public (quite a mindfuck, huh?) This brings me to my next point.

Yesterday I went to watch the Carolina Panthers play the Atlanta Falcons. Though the Panthers did not play up to their expected standards, what I remember most is the behavior of the visiting fans at the game. Let me first say that I am by no means a fuddy duddy sports fan. I am probably more obnoxious than those in Section 503 would prefer. However, I know how to lose as a fan and (more importantly) I know how to win as a fan. While I have never understood how someone could get excited to the point of physical conflict due to the actions of a separate group of people on a playing field, I can understand the nationalistic sense of pride that comes with watching the denizens of one's city succeed. This lesson was apparently lost on those citizens of ATL who came to Charlotte to watch their Dirty Birds whup up on my Panthers. From the first drive of the game until the 4th quarter ended, every red-and-black-clad Falcons fan I could see took great pride in "popping" their Michael Vick jerseys, dancing around for the most incremental successes, and generally acting like the worst kind of hooligans they could. For this behavior, I blame Staurt Scott.

By helping to create a highlight-first, me-centric medium that glorifies individual outrageousness over dignified achievement (see: Terrell Owens, Latrell Spreewell, Marcus Vick, Drew Rosenhaus, Freddie Mitchell, Kellen Winslow Jr.), Stu and his bretheren have given a voice to a segment of professional atheletes that seem to put more effort into staying in the news than they do in filling up their box score. This type of ego-masturbation has spilled over into the minds of many who support these athletes, like my good friends from Atlanta who descended upon the Queen City yesterday.

If Stuart Scott is so terrible, you may ask, why is he still on television? I believe that, unfortunately, Stu and Screamin' A. Smith continue to pollute my living room because I speak for a silent minority. It seems that people who enjoy their brand of delivery are ardent in their support, while those who share my opinion have turned to other avenues of information. So I guess the true cause of Stu's continued success is the wealth of information that is daily available on the internet in non-screaming, hand pounding form.

That must mean that Al Gore is really Palpatine, Bill Gates is Anakin, and I am a lowly citizen of Alderaan about to be blown up by the Death Star. Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll be re-running the "Big Show" in the afterworld.

Here goes nothing

2006-09-11T10:56:00.000-04:00

OK everyone, after being ordered by some of you I have finally started a blog. For the 4 people I know that haven't tired of hearing me tell the same stories over and over, here is a whole new venue for me to annoy you. Since I have no readers at this point, I suppose this post is a sort of literary masturbation (as much as blogging can be considered "literary"). I promise to be back later today with something of more substance, though it will still probably only interest me.