because i said so: media and other trivialities

San Francisco Gothic

2008-04-23T20:45:00.000-07:00

Folsom near 17th.

...50

2008-04-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

--E. R. O'Neill

no kids

2008-04-23T19:46:00.000-07:00

--E. R. O'Neill

Transvestites Stalkers, Narcotics Traffickers, Drama Queens, World Peace and Body Language.

2008-04-16T18:24:00.000-07:00

What do all these things have in common?

Clearly, not much. They're just part of this crazy-ass diagram.

It seems to be for some kind of online game or something.

So is this the way sane people design videogames? Or are the people who made this completely bonkers?

File this under "M"--for "Maybe It's Just Me."

--E. R. O'Neill

The Grammatically-Challenged Soothsayer.

2008-04-11T10:58:00.000-07:00

"Fame and fortune is coming your way."

--fortune from a recent fortune cookie

P.S. You figure if the fortune teller didn't know grammar, why should she know the future?

Meow!

2008-04-09T16:42:00.001-07:00

And quite a catfight it was.

Not that the two grande dames ever appear onscreen at the same time--or even in the same film.

But it was quite a lovely contrasting display of bitchery, temper, fettle, histrionics, acting, personality--whatever you like to call it.

--E. R. O'Neill

There WAS a Phone Here

2008-04-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

Double Bill

2008-04-02T21:00:00.000-07:00

Part of their "dueling divas" series.

Pretty divoon.

The Back Street wasn't great, but it had great '60's credits--like something Almodovar would ripoff:

--E. R. O'Neill

If You Are Stupid Enough To Reply To Phishing Attacks, You Deserve Every Misery You Suffer

2008-04-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

But they are so convincing! Take the one I received this morning. I almost hit "Reply." It sounded so...official.

VERIFY YOUR EXISTENCE ON PLANET EARTH or face termination.

Dear *V*E*R*I*F*I*E*D* human entity existing on the planet earth:

This message is from G*O*D* earthly messaging communication center to all inhabitants of Planetary Experiment in Possible Human Intelligence and Self-Destruction (PEP-HISD).

We are currently conducting normal and routine maintenance, inspection and upgrading (MIU) on our databases.

We have noticed that your existence on planet earth has no clear pattern, purpose or meaning--and is therefore invalid.

Invalid, dormant, meaningless or unused existences will be terminated WITHIN TEN WORKING DAYS (not including weekends, state, federal or other holidays).

This will result in failure of your email and also wireless connections.

To confirm the validity of your existence and to prevent your life from deactivation, you are advised to update it by proving us with the following information:
Legal First Name:
Legal Last Name:
All Email Usernames/Account Names and Passwords:
Name of Favorite Childhood Pet:
Name of the Street You Grew Up On:
Date of Birth (because we lost some of this data a while back):
City and State of Birth:
Social Security Number: State and Driver's License Number: All Banks Accounts, Account Numbers and Current Balances: Main Reason You Get Up in the Morning: Larger Purpose of Your Existence:
How Humanity Wouldn't Just Be Better Off Without You:
Warning!!!
Account owners are expected to update their accounts within 10 work days after receipt of this notice. Failure to comply with this notice within the stipulated time will face the risk of loosing his or her account.

Thank you for using EARTH.
Warning Code: X84617L2GGU~

--E. R. O'Neill

My God.

2008-03-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

I used to blog all the time.

Some of those posts were kinda lengthy, too.

Now I'm lucky if I squeeze off a snapshot from my iPhone.

Well, just to remind myself how nearly prolix I can be, I looked over my old blog entries.

There were some quite decent ones, I thought:

All I can add is: if you're Stanley Fish, I have the New York Times on the line, and their obituary for you is all written.

--E. R. O'Neill

Wish U Were Here

2008-03-30T14:01:00.000-07:00

Commemorative Greed Coins

2008-03-14T09:42:00.001-07:00

This is a really nice web video tribute to a popular TV commercial format.

--E. R. O'Neill

Seen in Philadelphia

2008-03-09T18:35:00.000-07:00

The Nicest Day.

2008-03-02T21:43:00.000-08:00

It had been a very long day.

Not that I had been up early.

To the contrary, I had gone to bed late the night before, having made the mistake of taking a nap and then starting working on some writing at 1 a.m., and then being too wired to sleep until 3, so I slept until 11 a.m.

Even given the late bed time, it made for the feeling of being behind.

I had to pack.

Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. I have to take a plane to the east coast to attend a professional conference. So today was occupied with packing and the like.

This involved multiple trips to the drug store for various supplies and travel-size containers.

The truth was: I had never gotten such an early start on packing, having started the day before.

And then there were itineraries and confirmations to print out, and travel arrangements to the airport to cement, and a sudden phone call from my boss with some work-related matters that needed fixing.

So by the time I finished the lessons for the online courses I teach, I felt pretty relieved.

I was packed. I'd accomplished a lot. I was proud of myself.

On my trips to the drugstore I had noticed how fine and pleasant the weather was. But now, as I lay on my bed taking a breather, I realized: this had been a very nice day.

Though I'd eaten enough during the day--and eaten very healthfully at that--I felt like having a reward.

I would have dinner at a favorite neighborhood taqueria: not fancy but tasty and filling.

It would be a reward. Too many calories too late in the day, but a reward nonetheless. I hardly go there any more, though it's only a few blocks away, and so it felt like going home.

It was a nice day, a productive day, and this would make the day that much nicer.

I wasn't in line long before what seemed to be a homeless man was trying to work out an arrangement for something to eat. A young hipster with the requisite skinny gray jeans, ironic T-shirt and hoodie was negotiating what he'd allow to buy the homeless man. The negotiation was complicated by the homeless man's good Spanish and the hipster's weak Spanish.

This hipster also had the distinction of being one of those with Atypical Facial Hair (AFH)--somewhere between Jesus and Salvador Dali.

A deal was struck, but what struck most of the customers was how ripe the homeless man smelled. Everyone seemed convinced it was the homeless man: people made the characteristic face for smelling a bad odor, looked around, then fixated on this man, who was rather gleeful with expectation of his imminent meal.

The fellow who cleans up the tables turned on a fan that blows air outside, and the homeless man looked hurt, even angry.

Around this time, the hippy girl who had been behind the homeless man and his hirsute patron, sat down beside me, and I realized she was pretty ripe, too, though in a softer, fruitier kind of way. Perhaps it was she who was responsible for the odor, as much as the homeless man, or some combination of the two.

The homeless man had tried to donate his can of soda to another customer, who got up and moved so as not to be pestered with this gift.

But now the homeless man was seated--near the hipster and his friends. It seems the hipster would buy the man food, but not share it with him.

Another worker brought out my food and the homeless man's at the same time. Ironically, we'd ordered the same thing--nachos--though his had meat and mine did not. I was thinking how awful it would be if the orders were to be switched, and I, who can afford a more expensive plate, were to get the more expensive meal by mistake.

But the meals wound up where they were supposed to be, and the worker who'd turned on the fans was busing the tables.

Apparently this employee had dropped some leftover food on the floor. The homeless man moved in quickly. He began scooping up scraps of meat off the floor. He seemed to have taken a tortilla off a plate someone had left behind, and he was scooping spilled food off the floor into the tortilla to make a kind of taco from refuse.

At first the customers looked on with horror. But as the man continued his scavenging, everyone looked away. People were looking down: not at their food, just down and away--anything not to see the spectacle of a man in a restaurant acting as if garbage were preferable to the meal that had been bought for him and that sat waiting, getting cold, as he picked up scraps from the floor.

The hipster who'd supplied the now-cooling meal was seated at a table full of hipsters, about six in all. Their clever banter died down. They stopped looking at one another.

I wondered if the hipster wasn't thinking to himself: I will never buy food for a homeless man again, they don't appreciate it, they just don't appreciate it, they'd just as soon eat garbage.

Now the homeless man was in a frenzy.

He was roving around the restaurant gathering every scrap on the floor and adding it to his impromptu taco.

No one could look any more. No one could look at all.

Eventually this mission was accomplished. The homeless man put his creation into his knapsack for a later time. He returned to the meal that had been bought for him, and he began to eat it--with some relish.

By now the hipsters were talking again. They raised their imported beers in some kind of purposefully sloppy toast, as they made witticisms so clever that only they could appreciate them.

A lovely, upbeat song came on the jukebox. It seemed to be in English, which is unusual in such a place. Everyone seemed in a better mood.

Even the homeless man was rocking side to side to the music, seemingly imagining himself part of some wider community. Everyone was having such a good time.

As I headed out, the hipsters were in the process of leaving, too.

When I turned back, the homeless man was smiling. He seemed at first to be foaming at the mouth, but then I realized it was just sour cream. He masticated the beef and sour cream with evident pleasure.

Walking out the door, into the lovely cool evening air, I thought to myself: this is probably the nicest day he's had in a very, very long time.

And it may be the nicest day he has for weeks and months to come.

--E. R. O'Neill

Hillary Guilty of Plagiarism!

2008-02-24T18:40:00.000-08:00

Nuf sed.

--E. R. O'Neill

Can't Anyone Read Anymore?

2008-02-23T16:33:00.000-08:00

Dear LRC:

I'm stunned and incredulous.

The smartest political yak show in the mediasphere, the most insightful, out-of-the-box commentators on the airwaves, and you all four utterly missed the point.

I understand when CNN and Fox and tabloids miss the point. It's practically their job description.

But I expect better of you.

Four very intelligent people, and not one of you was capable of parsing several paragraphs in the English language--or as close as The New York Times gets to it.

The Times did *not* run a story making unsubstantiated claims that John McCain had an affair.

The Times ran a story arguing and providing evidence that McCain was capable of serious hubris and blindness in ethical matters--precisely because he's so damn self-confident that he is so highly ethical.

That is arguably a more interesting story. It is certainly a more relevant story when McCain himself puts questions of judgment, experience and character in the foreground of his own campaign.

The question was not whether McCain had broken any particular legal, moral or even ethical rules. The question was whether he allowed himself to do things that gave the appearance of impropriety--and in such a way as to amount to self-sabotage.

This is pretty much clear for those of us who read the headline before racing through looking for the naughty bits: "For McCain, Self-Confidence on Ethics Poses Its Own Risk." And that carries a burden of proof the article pretty much met.

There were three primary examples of this hubris--of which one (and only one) was the appearance to a number and the belief of some on his staff that he was having an affair with a lobbyist.

The other two main examples, on my reading, involved collecting donations from sources that seemed to work against McCain's own famous reform efforts, and (similarly) flying on corporate jets. The corporate jet example is the most fascinating because, on the Times'
explanation, McCain wanted to avoid the appearance that he was benefiting from helping to bring Southwest service to Arizona, so instead he essentially took gifts from corporations currying his favor.

I am saddened to see your normally high-minded (but not Public-Radio-Mind-Numbingly-Obtuse) show fixate on questions of genitals.

Are we all so marked by the Clinton era--and since by Mark Foley and wide stances and the rest--that we cannot comprehend issues of politics and character that remain above the belt-line? I hope not.

Come on, people: you're not Wonkette.com.

Sincerely,
Edward R. O'Neill, Ph.D.

Huck Me Harder.

2008-02-19T19:54:00.000-08:00

She is just so 110% right about everything.

--E. R. O'Neill

I heart Bernard Hermann

2008-01-29T19:34:00.000-08:00

Is This What You Want?

2008-01-24T01:58:00.000-08:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking.

About Hillary and Obama.

New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg had lunch with Obama--so maybe Bloomberg won't throw his hat in the ring of Obama gets the nomination.

Or maybe they were just discussing Big Ideas.

In the past, I had said I'd never vote for Hillary--because she has no soul, no real values, because she only figures out how to position herself strategically.

She's pure calculation, pure triangulation. 'If they are there and this other group is there, then split the difference and be here.' That's Hillary's whole internal monologue in a nutshell.

Hillary is one of those tragic people who says "I'll do what's necessary to get power, then I'll govern from my soul," only to find out she's long since sold it.

But listening to her in the debates a few months back and on the campaign trail, I had a realization: Hillary is the smartest person in the room--and not in that Enron kind of way. She knew policy inside out. She could explain exactly what we oughta do and why we oughta do it.

Screw it, I thought. I'll vote for Hillary. We need a woman President.

Obama's message of hope, I thought, was just that: hope.

What's Obama's health care plan? Does he have one?

He doesn't talk about policy. He's not a detail guy. He's all vision and moonbeams.

But now, this nastiness. I hate it.

Hillary has her guys accuse Obama of being a coke dealer. Hillary says MLK didn't do the heavy lifting, that was LBJ? Hillary accuses Obama of working for slumlords? Bill says any nasty thing that gets into his head--which is pretty nasty, as we all know.

Then later, they make with apologies and firings and backpedaling and denials. But the smear is out there. The work is done.

Obama praises Reagan for uniting, for having vision, for having new ideas. He wants to reach out to Reagan Democrats! They could be Obama Democrats.

Bill and Hillary--Billary!--distort it so Obama said Reagan had the 'good' or 'best' ideas. Not what the man said.

How, I ask, is Hillary going to talk to Republicans when she can't even listen to Obama?

Hillary is not just a divisive figure. She is brilliant at dividing.

It's not just that people hate her. It's that she herself is wickedly good at saying hateful things. Oh they're gussied up with self-righteousness. But they're hateful.

Hillary can sharpen the difference between an Oreo and a Hydrox cookie until you could bleed to death from cutting yourself on that difference.

Hillary could convince you Yale and Harvard are on different planets. (Well, maybe they are.)

Hillary would have us believe that Barack Obama is Ronald Reagan redux.

Who does this woman think she is? Who does she think we are? What does she take us for? We're the fools, and she's doing the fooling.

How, I ask, is this woman going to unite anybody--Republicans and Democrats, the country?

She's no good at it.

Obama needs to stop saying "what I said was...."

After every Hillary nasty, Obama needs to say: Is this what you want? Do you want a politics of attack, a politics of smear, a politics of distortion? Do you want a Democrat who attacks Democrats? Do you want 16 more years of partisan standoff? Fine, then vote for Hillary.

And everyone will say no, and Hillary can go back to being Senator.

Who knows? Maybe she and Bloomberg can even have lunch.

--E. R. O'Neill

What does this mean about me?

2008-01-14T15:11:00.000-08:00

Google ads beside an email from a friend.

Jumping Stilt Videos
He actually did it! Unbelievable The Double Back flip. See it here.
www.GetJumpingStilts.com

Dawn Simulator Alarm
Wake up naturally to a warm light. Works with your body, not against.
BioBrite.com

Raw Organic Food Bars
Raw Indulgence bars actually taste great - Raw & Uncooked.
www.toolsforhealing.com

In Wall Coffee Maker
Save counter space and time Just wake up and smell the coffee
www.VidaVici.com

I need to wake up with coffee and bright lights, jump on stilts (or just watch someone do it) and eat organic?

It's unnerving seeing your personal communication be turned into raw fodder to target you as a market segment.

Feels dirty--and not even the good kind.

--E. R. O'Neill

It's Snowing in New Hampshire.

2007-12-31T06:37:00.000-08:00

$14 Steadicam?

2007-12-14T17:13:00.001-08:00

Amateur filmmakers, take note.

Check out the clips, too--they're way cool.

--Ed

Weekend in Santa Cruz

2007-12-11T09:29:00.001-08:00

Huckabee's a Bitch.

2007-12-06T18:17:00.000-08:00

That Mike Huckabee.

He's clever.

He always says the smart thing.

He' calls himself a Christian candidate and says his religion shapes his character, but he denies it would play any role in his political decision-making.

The motto on his web site is: "Faith. Family. Freedom." (Only one of those has anything to do with government, but let that be.)

Smart Mike claims he 'forgives' the people he let go to death row as governor. Nice! Don't 'forgive' me, Mike!

Now Romney makes a defense of his faith--which makes no sense.

Romeny's argument is: you can't discriminate against me just because I'm a Mormon--since after all we all pray to the same God.

It's like: there can be no religious test for office--but by the way I pass the test anyway.

Nevertheless, Smart Mike has a snappy comeback to Romney: "he's a Mormon and also a follower of Jesus Christ" [as quoted by Chris Matthews on Hardball].

Get it? Like they're two different things.

If Mike Huckabee were anyone else, people would call him cold, calculating--even triangulating.

Heck, let's say it: if Huckabee were a woman, he wouldn't be smart, he wouldn't be clever, he'd be a bitch.

But no. Since Huckabee's a guy, he's just a 'smart politician.'

It seems like there's no religious standard to worry about, because there's only one standard: you're a good Christian or you're not--it's just an issue of how "good" is defined.

But if you're a politician and you're male, you can say any damn thing you want, and you still won't be called--in so many words--a bitch.

God help you if you're a smart ambitious woman in American politics.

--E. R. O'Neill

God Am I Gay.

2007-12-04T09:04:00.001-08:00

Two DVD's coming in the mail to me from Netflix?

Richard Strauss's opera Elektra starring Birgit Nilsson and Season 1, disk 1 of Ugly Betty.

Matricide, atonality, fashion, soap opera.

That about sums it up.

--E. R. O'Neill