The State of the Programming Nation Address Part 4

Part Quatro: Where I make everything good. Real good. Yea.

As your governor, you are all under my command. So girls, send me panties. Damned tangents. I meant, I'm here to fix all the problems of television and make everything good again. Its going to be a David vs Goliath tale, only I'm going to be Goliath, and David is going to be one red-headed, overly dramatic hack by the name of Mr Caruso, and his ass is gonna get stomped on. Just like that, TV will be cured.

To be sure, however, its probably best if you send them panties. Seriously.

This will not be an easy change (despite my previous claim). It will take hard work, dedication, and a lot of researched facts on my part. We will have to attack television on many fronts, forge new alliances, bring back old shows, and have delicious snacks. Due to the toll this heavy burden of a position has taken on me, I was ready to resign from my post and start pursuing other noble goals, like teaching rottweilers to fly. This changed when I recently saw an episode of CSI Miami and David Huge Ass Red Head Caruso showed up, with his huge ass red head. I swear, he was leaning to the side, due to the weight of his enormous, stupid head. He was hitting on this ridiculously beautiful Latina woman, and she was actually responding to him as if he wasnt the grossest thing ever. Then again, women will sometimes have sex with horses. Look it up if you dont believe me, but be prepared for some awful stuff.

This is a time for us to unite. In going forward, we shall promote television shows, not harp on the mistakes of the old regime (American Idol, American Idol!!!!). We, well really I, will take back the networks and force good programming on the viewers. Two positive steps have already been taken: the combination of the WB and UPN into one network that will now cater to both the teenage AND the uneducated market, and 7th Heavens series finale. Now that its holier-than-thou religious morality is done with, the long-haired, could-be-easily-mistaken-for-a-woman star is now in his own new show, and hopefully the producers will agree to my demands of a show co-starring me and Jessica Biel. In addition, there are tons of good cartoons geared towards adults on Cartoon Network and Comedy Central, though almost none involving Green Lantern or Thor. These cartoons need to be made and put on primetime network television, because I wont wake up early in the morning and I refuse to pay for cable. Accommodations MUST be made!

I shall even use my tremendous amount of power and influence to correct the commercials between the programs, since I govern all. By hook or by crook, but hopefully by hook because I love pirates, we shall take those damned Axe/Tag/Bod ads off the air. Women, it turns out, are not sluts for scents and do not maul guys when they smell the new generic body shot fragrance. Not all commercials are so inaccurate, such as the informative Mentos commercial in which birds crave Mentos, and as such will not be banned.

One of my main solutions to the programming problem is to bring back shows which I found terrific, though clearly a larger (dumber) audience didnt agree. Im not talking about syndication, though I could watch these shows 7 times a day 6 days a week (Sunday programming will continue to be totally irregular), but new episodes. For starters, Two Guys and a Girl and The Norm Show will both be resurrected and continue to crack me up. Id also like to see Alf come back, and The Muppets Show with Jim Hensons cryogenically frozen brain making all the decisions. Dark Angel, as well, should be brought back...hmmm, pre-too-skinny Jessica Alba.

Other shows I'd like to see brought back:

- Meth and Red, featuring classic one liners like shut up, stop-sign head

- Malcolm and Eddie, which needs no explanation why it should be shining on primetime again

- NYPD Blue, and yes, I liked Zach Morris on the show...who wouldnt? He can call a time out in the middle of a crime, and kill someone with his giant portable phone (also useful for calling for backup, a pizza, or tricking Mr. Belding)

- The O.C., well really just the one episode where the hot chick makes out with the other hot chick. It sounds like good television and the plot intrigues me.

There are some others, but we can't just dwell on the past. We must forge ahead and bring more excellent television shows to the audience. New blood must be infused, such as a cooking show, hosted by Mo Vaughn, during which after every dish he makes, he hits a homerun. Then eats the entire dish. Cookie Monster could be a recurring guest. Lost, Arrested Development, 24 and Prison Break must all be made available every day, and maybe even doubled in length. In fact, Jack Bauer is hereby promoted to Lieutenant Governor, or whatever the hell position he wants, because he's Jack Bauer.

The clouds of Americas Next Top Inventive Idol are dissipating, allowing rays of sunshine to, uhm, shine through. Warmth is spreading, and causing women to give me their panties. Damn, again. The future looks bright, and my thousand years reign of television shall bring prosperity. And David Caruso's monstrously large head on a spear.

The State of the Nation Programming Address Part 3

Part Three: Dealing with the Scourge, or What to do with reality TV

Let me state my thesis in one sentence: I hate reality TV shows. Now I dont watch them much, so its possible that I dont really know what Im talking about. Truth is, thats not going to stop me.

Reality shows are the slut of television, and, much like successful hospital drama ER, are responsible for spawning hellacious rip-offs at every level possible. I swear, these shows breed like rabbits, and not the cute Thumper type neither.

Reality shows fall in to two categories. The first is shows that involve contestants in some sort of stupid challenge, with those lucky enough to be chosen getting eliminated by either their peers, own incompetence, or even worse, audience members dumb enough to watch the show. These usually involve some sort of prize to be won: Grandmas chocolate chip cookie recipe, the prize watermelon from the state fair or a huge wooden chest full of doubloons. There is one exception: Whos Your Daddy and the Bachelor/Bachelorette, on which you win a love interest or a parent. Cant you just import mail order brides/husbands like any normal person?

Shows like Survivor, Big Brother, Fear Factor and others that I dont know of fall into this first category. On Survivor, and Gilligans Island, if Im not mistaken, contestants are given tasks to complete and then they get to hang around. However, the shows are set up, especially Survivor, as contestants being dropped in the middle of a remote place and have to fend for themselves.

Bullshit. They dont have anything to survive from. Nothing threatens them except for the inevitable big sweaty dudes nasty odor and painful non stop boners from the inevitable hot, scantily clad chick. The shows about as real as Lost. At least there they have awesome killer polar bears, which somehow can live on a tropical island, yet never venture into my apartment building when I set cupcake traps. Yes, bears love cupcakes.

The other kind of reality show is even worse, and is somehow becoming even bigger. Yea, there have been 35 different Survivor series already, but at least they start every year or so. It hasnt even been 2 weeks, and the new Apprentice is on the air, pitting privileged people versus slightly more privileged people in the battle of who gets to dye Donald Trumps hair Donald Duck yellow. This variety of show is called the televised interview with created drama show, because thats all it is.

Finally, rich super companies have found a way to get more publicity and make more money for themselves. Some genius discovered if they held auditions and then ran an hour show, once a week for 12 weeks, showing what happened to the job candidates and who finally got the job, people would stupidly watch and love it. Shows of this type include: the aforementioned Apprentice, everyones favorite American Idol and its Missy Elliot rip-off, and Americas Next Top Model. Now I know what youre thinking: L BO loves scantily clad beautiful women. However, instead of watching all the drama theyre dealing with (and listening to them talk), I can look at naked women online.

I think they should target me for a reality TV show, in which they cover MY job interview process. It would go something like this:

Episode One:

L BO graduates college, entirely positive that hes going to become a world famous photographer, adored by his model fan club and loved by his pet bear, Jamal. Man the future looks bright!!!

Episode Two:

L BO applies for his first job. The episode ends on a cliff hanger, with him checking his email the next day. Does he get a positive email?

Episode Three:

No, in fact, all his inbox contains is a letter advertising a free rowing machine for signing up for a bank account. Money, at this point, is a novel idea. L BO eats some ice cream and plans a future where Jamal is joined by a pet kangaroo (or at least a wallaby), an ultra smart porcupine and a 3 foot tall commando duck. The future once again looks bright!!

Episode Four:

The last episode of the season is a montage, showing email after email sent by L BO NOT getting returned. Key cinematic shots include a split screen of L BO making a phone call to a company while on the other side, the recruiter (played by David Spade) casually ignores the telephone ringing while grooming his cat. Stay tuned for next season, where L BO does all this on an abandoned space ship. In actual space.

Next season of The Freelancer, coming out directly to DVD. Real soon.

Before you complain and tell me I forgot about certain reality shows that dont fit into my categories, Im going to launch a pre emptive strike and let you know that I dont care what you think. But in the interest of thoroughness, here is a list of shows:

-Wife Swap and Trading Spaces: This was a brilliant idea for a television show. I cant wait for the spin off called trading species. In this series, every week we explore the hilarity and hijinks, along with high tension moments, that occur when the male of one species is traded for another. On the first episode, a gorilla is taken from his family and traded for a lion.

-Makeover ambush shows, Live Like a Celebrity, etc. fit into the GARBAGE category, as no one should watch this junk.

-Shows that profile celebrity couples, like Newlyweds, fit into the I know youre smarter than that category. Seriously, go read a book.

-Quotes from real people about the new hit show Whos Your Daddy:

"Its probably going to be a stupid show, but Im going to watch it anyway." Do I need to say anymore?

-Then theres the Simple Life. I think everyone can agree with me theres only one thing anyone wants to see Paris Hilton acting in. She does have some useful talents.

-Temptation Island seemed like a great idea, but it had two downfalls: not enough naked women, and no girl on girl action. BASTARDS!!!

-The Biggest Loser is a show where people that need to be taken around in a forklift compete to see who can lose the most weight. The real biggest loser? Whoever is dumb enough to watch. I never thought Id like Jared the Subway guy more than anyone else.

-Supernanny Teach your kids how to behave yourself or do what any other parent would do sell them.

-And finally, there are shows like Real World, which I actually have no real problem with, with the exception of its cult like fan base and the fact that its been on since 1972.

So as you can see, reality shows are the worst thing to ever hit television and there doesnt seem to be an end in sight. I take that back. That overly melodramatic David Caruso is still there. Well, Im going to go get ready to take back television. And promote The Freelancer.

The State of the Programming Nation Address Part 2

Part Two: How David Caruso ruined television

Now maybe it's not so much what's on TV as what is NOT on TV, namely more Dolphins games and bears doing what they do best: being awesome. Or, that could be the point of the fourth part, titled solutions, and so I should just stick to causes for television programming being worse than an entire franchise of Anne Hathaway princess movies.

An examination of the channel guide would provide plenty of fodder for this metaphorical cannon of mine. Awful timing, useless channels, and not funny sitcoms make up the list, which doesn't include Reality shows, as they are the focus of the next rant.

By timing, I don't mean that inevitably whatever shows I want to watch are on the same night and the same time, which drives me crazy and provides stacks of videotapes of old programs that I will never get around to watching. No, my protest is far more important: all of the good cartoons on Saturday morning are on at the ridiculous hour of 9. That's in the AM too. Of course, the good cartoons are on at the same time on different channels, and the most childish or crappiest cartoons (anime and pokemon) are on closer to hang-over-wake-up time.

And let's be honest, when I say good cartoons, I mean these couldn't hold the jockstrap of old G.I. Joe, He-Man, Batman or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cartoons. Yes, I could make a list of all the good old cartoons, and it would also include Thundercats and Transformers and Spiderman, but I don't want to. Sure, Static Shock was good while it lasted on network television, as is Jackie Chan, but the new batman and new teenage mutant ninja turtles couldn'twell, hold the jockstrap of the old ones.

This obviously segues nicely into a discussion of the low quality of today's television shows. I watch a lot of daytime television nowadays because I don't have a full time job (besides Governor of television) and most of it is awful. Besides, of course, the Cosby Show, Just Shoot Me, Yes Dear and Spin City, which is the diamond of the gems in my pimp goblet of daytime TV.

That said, I prefer channel 16 at Ithaca when nothing is on, to all of the soaps, talk shows, judge shows and game shows that manage to be on for 8 hours a day. I've already accepted all of the above as necessary evils, as some people are not smart enough to NOT watch soap operas or Judge Judy (Judge Joe Brown or Judge Horace from the streets are the only REAL judges), but that doesn't mean I can't complain about them.

Nighttime TV is made up of reality shows (again, wait till the next friggin post!), sitcoms, drama shows and the news. New sitcoms all have one thing in common: they're not funny. I watch BET and I can't find any show on UPN at night funny. Alright, fine, I watch Eve, but only because I keep hoping Eve and Ali Landry are going to make out. Or at least give me a shoutout.

It's not that Everybody Loves Raymond is all that funny, because it most certainly isn't, but at least its not one of those watered down, everybody has already heard the joke, no talent, never heard of actors, probably won't even last 10 episodes, sitcoms on channels that have never produced a decently funny show. Yes, I'm talking about you CBS and ABC. Stick to golf, drama and college basketball.

In the drama category, there are too many "son of" shows. For example, NCIS is the bastard "son of" CSI and JAG. When one show is good, leave it at that, because I don't want to watch the exact same thing but in a different city. All of the Law and Order spinoffs are fine, because they can stand on their own as shows and deal with different things. This doesn't apply to all, as CSI is a great show, but its successors are garbage. Now maybe it's just David Caruso being a smarmy, egotistical, show stealing, no talent ass clown who randomly leaves every show he's on because he thinks he can be on something better, but CSI Miami and CSI New York need to go away. Fast.

In addition, there are too many channels on cable that have no use to me. When am I ever going to watch the Japanese or Indian channel, unless I want to be amused by obvious cultural differences and derisive remarks made while watching people dance around in cloud castles. The sewing channel? Sci Fi? Country Music? The Carson Daly 24 hour marathon channel? Even Cartoon Network, which provides me with the Justice League Cartoon, is completely useless 18 hours of every day. Damned Power Puff Girls.

In summary: shows are never on at convenient times, unless you have nothing to do all day, which I don't; networks peddle junk to watch, but the ignorant masses stupidly stay glued to the boob tube; and David Caruso is a tool. And his hair is too red.

The State of the Programming Nation Address

Part One: Introduction and an examination of TV's problems

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls of all ages, and those squirrels in the rafters that are rapt with attentiveness, please give it up for your Governor of Television, L BO!!!!"

*Cheers and loud applause, along with a catcall. And a tomato thrown at me, by my mom.*

I know what you're all thinking, already and maybe before you even considered it. Pretty incredible, but that's because I am. Why did I become Governor, instead of chief, president, mayor, major, CEO, or commander. Come to think of it, commander or colonel of television would fit me pretty well too. But back to the question: I think it's high time that I'm referred to as Governor Larry. Furthermore, television needs help.

I don't mean television as in cable, satellite or DirectTV, because I don't have any of those. I have basic channels, which includes CBS, NBS, FOX, ABC, UPN, WB, PBS and channel 6, the security camera in my basement. To start with, I have 5 security cameras, and yet only one of them is turned to an actual entrance to my building. The rest show continuous coverage on the gray paint, which is terribly fascinating, especially in black and white, where EVERYTHING IS GRAY! Back in the day, when I was about 14 or so, my friend James and I decided to make a movie based on those cameras, which actually worked at the time. We had no plot, because a movie like that pretty much writes itself, and didn't need a video camera, as we would just tape it on the VCR. Face it: we were the original Blair Witch Project, only I would pay to see my movie.

If done today, my movie would include such awesome things as: bears; a stuffed, kind-of- fuzzy-but-more-hairy armadillo; 3 supermodels, scantily clad of course; someone in a gorilla suit; egg crates, of the dozen size; and probably Bo Jackson. Hands down, it would be the best thing ever.

Back to my original point: television, or those 7 channels I have that show more than my own building, is in a terrible state of disrepair. There are a few reasons for this, which will conveniently be discussed in parts two and three. Solutions, as well as anything else I feel like rambling about, will be discussed in part four.

The Downward Facing Dog is a Bitch

Tonight I decided to try yoga for the first time. For the health benefits and peace of mind, of course. Flexible females, and the impressing of them, had nothing to do with it. It was a free one day trial, held in a conference room next to our kitchen. Ok, so I can't touch my toes. I wasn't expecting the first class to be easy. Just maybe, I don't know, more relaxing. Less...impossible. I couldn't even do the corpse pose correctly, and that involved lying on my back with my arms stretched out to the sides.

The instructor was very nice, and extremely helpful through it all. One of my favorite pieces of advice was after telling us to close our eyes, she reminded us "if you can see anything, your eyes are not closed." Later, while doing a spinal twist (not what Chuck Berry had in mind), she urged me to "make your chest and hips further apart." Well, OK! If you say so. She assisted by pushing and pulling various body parts in opposing directions. It was a little like being stretched on the rack, only with the executioner constantly disparaging you. "No, no, no! Be relaxed while the machine turns, it's the only way to properly stretch your limbs out. You're getting tortured ALL WRONG!"

The last time I had really stretched was playing junior varsity basketball in 10th grade, and I've decided this will really benefit me. Again, nothing to do with flexible females. However, it's going to take a lot of practice on my part to get passable at this. Determined to do yoga, I ended up looking more like Yogi Bear than a yogi.

Bar Bee Cued

Yesterday night. We were at Brother Jimmy's BBQ, a place most people go in a last ditch effort to invite heart disease. I watched in horror as first Pris Killer, then Dynamo, shoved ENTIRE slices of lemon and lime into their mouths, devouring the entire rind in the process. I've always viewed rinds on fruit the same way I view shells on shrimp and plastic wrap on candy; something that is pretty to look at, fun to play with, and not to be eaten. Not wanting to be left out of this gastronomic Sprite inspired experiment, I nibbled on a lime. While the sourness of the fruit was enough to make my cheek hurt, the rind was exactly as I feared...it tasted like Pinesol would, if I ever had the urge to drink furniture polish. Perhaps, in their semi-piratical mindsets, they were just more worried about, and dedicated to, fighting off scurvy than I.

Due mostly to the amount of butter that had replaced the blood normally in my veins and arteries, my dreams last night were far from normal. The dream started off normal enough, with my mother driving our old, and now deceased, Cadillac, before succumbing to exhaustion/slow driveritis, allowing me to take wheel. I guided the car through the movie set city, towards the nonexistent Lexington Avenue bridge, going a little faster than the speed limit. Approaching the bridge, for some reason we got out and ran, and then we noticed the bridge had a huge ammount of human traffic. Weaving in and out of slower humans, I noticed the flashing lights of police cars. Though I hit my own breaks, moved all the way to the otherside, and stopped weaving, I couldn't avoid being caught for long, and soon had a ticket for speeding. SPEEDING! I was running!! Of course I was trying to go fast. I plead my case, and asked the officers if they'd ever heard of track and field or the Olympics, but all for naught.

Fast forward to a night club, where some skanky women were trying to make out with me because it was their birthday. I finally relented, giving one woman a birthday present she could always treasure. Next thing I knew, I was in Nick Lachey's limo, hanging with him and a few of my friends. We were having some deep conversations, until Nick would go in the back to make out with slightly homely 20 year olds. I realized Nick wasn't a bad guy, and he was pretty cool to hang out with. I told Nick and his homely harem of hoey chicks the speeding ticket story a few times, to much laughter. I couldn't wait to tell everyone the next day about my crazy night. It was while swimming at a surreal YMCA pool that someone noted none of this had happened, and I was dreaming. Made sense. That made me tell my girlfriend about the whole escapade, though I left out the birthday smooch. Turns out, I could have been honest with her, because she and everything else was a dream too.

The Matrix is one of the few things that rivals the strangeness of a hushpuppies-with-maple-butter induced dream within a dream. Treat this as a cautionary tale

Gideon Defoe

Everyone should go read Gideon Defoe's aptly named genius novels, "Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists" and "Pirates! In an Adventure with Ahab." They are aptly named, because Pirates have an adventure with scientists (specifically Charles Darwin of the popular, except in Kansas, theory of evolution) and with Captain Ahab in the second. Go read these brilliantly funny books now, before Gideon's second book comes out. I feel his books are what would happen if Casey, Jesse, Steve and I ever wrote a book to impress a woman. Well, it would have to be several women, because if we were each going after the same one, it would potentially cause some problems, and the book wouldn't be a harmonious collaboration. Add some Britishness to our quartet, some extra ham references and make it coherent, and you'd have a Gideon Defoe Canal Street knock-off.

Visit his website at www.GideonDefoe.com (You'll note it's linked on the side of my blog, with some trepidation, as he's way funnier than me, and I worry he'll steal one of the two loyal readers I have).

Nighttime Ruminations

I've never been a very sound sleeper. In fact, despite what everyone thinks, I'm not very good at sleeping, even though I enjoy it so much. Once, a girl I was going out with karate chopped me in the neck while we were sleeping in bed, which is weirder than most things I'd done, until now.

Sure, I've pushed a girl out of bed before (I toss and turn a lot, hot huh?) and everyone knows the old pillow/marshmallow joke. My variation was dreaming about Rebecca Romijn while caressing a compatriots leg. Caressing, NOT HUMPING, as I've been accused. I'm a gentle man, not a dog. But these events were scattered over many years. Lately, my strange nighttime behavior has increased, and I've stopped eating anchovy pizzas before bed.

It all started with a dream a few months ago. I was a secret agent for Hugh Hefner, a double agent in fact, though I'm not sure who else I was working for. Definitely not the Reds though. It was me and this sergeant guy, and we'd hang out in Hugh's apartment. He no longer had the mansion, but instead lived on an old, beaten up couch in a modest apartment and lay under a blanket a lot. There were no playboy bunnies, and ol' Hugh didn't look so good. I don't quite remember the mission, but I ended up watching a weird muppet-like creature espousing the benefits of his new theology, or ideology. It might have had something to do with Communism, and he was convinced it was going to work, as he ambled along on a dirt road, carrying a giant tree trunk. Something about him, led me to believe it would!

Since then, I've dreamed I was on a river flume type ride, on a real river, riding a real log, past asian guys I knew in high school, calling them the wrong names even though it was the second time our paths crossed in that dream. That's just unacceptable, I mean it's not like it was the first time I saw them. From the log flume, I ended up in Sudan, hanging out with rebels, but friendly ones who liked candy and checkers. Maybe they were children. Then I had a bad feeling that we were being surrounded, I grabbed my friend Shiva out the bathroom where he was fixing his hair, went all invisible commando and ending up escaping. My next dream, the next night, sent me to the Amazon river, which had been relocated to Africa. Leaving the temple we were in, my band of 4 or 5 set off, when one man broke off and drove his pickup in the Amazon to find his way back to camp. But he went the wrong way. Meanwhile, I tried to capture dolphins with a hastily made net so they would lead us to camp. My efforts failed. The art director in the pickup came racing backwards up the river, yelling about ants and we had to get out of there. The doors to the temple were locked! The art director said we had to run to the sand, but I knew better. Ants hate water, but in fact love sand. With their swarming and buzzing getting closer, we lunged for the pickup and with the dolphins showing us the way, headed back to camp and safety. I hope.

But even these crazy dreams aren't that bad. I've always had strange, vivid and surreal dreams. What really got me was my sleepwalking. I was told about this later, but I left my room, walked down to the living room where my dad was sleeping on the couch bed, curled up on the side (which wasn't very comfortable because he was sleeping diagonal and his feet were in the way) and drifted back to sleep. The whole time, I kept saying, as if in a trance, Sleep, Sleep, Sleep, Sleep, Sleep, Sleep.

Eventually I was back in my bed, where I did indeed sleep, sleep, sleep. Just not very well.

Monkey Business

I'm currently the Digital Editor at "We Make Images, But Only Because We Can Sell Them For Money" Photo Company. My job title is a bit of a misnomer. I don't actually choose, or "edit" any photos. I'm also not digital, except for my cybernetic right arm. What I do do is retouch photos, adjust images, and problem shoot our digital workflow from my two computers. This means I spend a lot of time on said electronic machine, though most of that is reading Doonesbury cartoons, instant messaging, writing electronic mail messages, and cyber stalking the San Diego Zoo panda bears via a nifty webcam.

Like everything in our field, and especially our business, the digital workflow is constantly changing and evolving. A lot of my job duties are being passed along to a different department, which is less specially skilled at getting digital with it than I. It was during a recent discussion on how to best transition that my boss let his true feelings slip out. I mentioned my concerns that people who had never used Photoshop before might struggle at first resizing and flattening images or converting from 16-bit to 8-bit mode, all of which require 3 mouse clicks at the most. My boss said it'd be easy to write a quick guide on how to do these complicated tasks. Then, apparently growing frustrated with his lack of cookies for the day, he lashed out and said "let's be honest, a monkey could do this."

I strive for honesty and felt I needed to prove him wrong. What better way than to bring in an actual monkey and sit him at my desk for the day? What's that boss? The monkey's flinging poop at you? Hmm, that doesn't sound like an understanding of photoshop. He's eating a banana and not doing work? Yea, that does sort of sound like me too actually. You can't get the monkey to stop picking lice out of your hair? No, that doesn't sound like he's troubleshooting the digital workflow and notifying photographers of errors. It also sounds like you should wash your hair more often.

Even without this experiment, I think people by now should know not to say "a monkey could do that job." Where does this high regard for the working skills of monkeys come from anyway? If monkeys were such good workers, why do they have an almost 100% unemployment rate? In addition, the entire primate economy is based on bananas. Doesn't sound too profitable nor economically enlightened to me.

So please, next time you feel the need to disparage someone's job by letting them know a simian could do it, stop and think first. Monkeys. They're just not humans.

Titular Trouble

"Good news. I've been promoted. Yay me!"

"That's terrific." Geez, I have no idea what her old title was. "So you're now the..."

"I'm the junior art associate magazine job of some sort Swedish Chef."

"Wait, the what?"

"Junior editing glossy magazine pages assistant art."

"O, wow, that's awesome." That's it. That's as clear as it gets for me.

I've never been able to remember people's job titles, and have an even harder time understanding what they do. I used to frown on my friends who didn't know what their own twin sister was doing in Japan, and get real exasperated with my parents when they didn't understand what it is I do. I mean, Digital Editor should be fairly straightforward, even though I don't actually edit anything. Then I realized that I couldn't describe other people's jobs or remember they're proper job title, or even the name of their company.

I used to think this was because many of my friends worked in fields not akin to mine, and who cares what kind of dorky computer title someone had. As far as I'm concerned, you're either building robots (the helpful kind, that can impersonate you when you don't want to go to school/work/church/see "Little Man" at the movie theatre and can also whip up a mean mac and cheese, baked of course) or you're in IT. So I don't think twice when I explained my three friends, all of whom have degrees in different fields of computer engineering, were working as "computer dorks", with wide ranging job duties including databasing-something-or-other and making computadors work.

I assumed I'd better understand and easily know the titles and the functions of people who were in my field, who were in the arts in any sort of way. That fantasy changed quickly, when I referred to Dee's job as "internet writing for Baby Making, or Baby Having magazine, whatever. Geez!" Then there was Dara, who'd been working at Elle Decor, which I had assumed was a made-up magazine. Did you know there are magazines besides Maxim, Playboy, Sports Illustrated and Good Housekeeping? Oops, almost forgot Swank too!

Dara told me her job title, and I forgot it. On a train ride back from the Clerks 2 screener, she told me again. I forgot before we went one stop. Now maybe I was all preoccupied with why I liked every other Kevin Smith film that included Jay and Silent Bob better. I mean, I'm all proud of her and everything; she even gets her name on the page in the magazine that has people's names who do things to make the magazine. That being said, instead of becoming "Art Production Assistant," why couldn't they have given her a normal and easy title to remember? Like, Magazine Woman.