March 6th, 2003

flavored with age


I pulled a tube of lip balm out of my medicine cabinet this morning, in order to soothe my soft, beautiful lips, and I noticed it was a promotional giveaway lip blam, advertising Cipro. Remember Cipro? Boy, that danger-meme lasted about five minutes, didn't it? It's got about as much heft as Judge Ito jokes now that we're all wound up in this awesome Iraq war. Oh well! I guess we'll find the people who did it someday, right after we find bin-Laden and the 'real killers' of Nicole Brown and Jonbenet Ramsey.

Also, the tube says "this lip balm does not contain ciprofloxacin", for all those poor souls who thought they might be getting free anti-anthrax drugs in Chapstik form.

ANYWAY. Last night's bewildering dream: I was teaching a female friend of mine, who happens to be a very tall, thin, lanky type, some martial arts. And given her body type, I advised her that she'd be better off using punches and kicks -- distance attacks -- over grapples, which given her height and weight might backfire.

And then her boyfriend showed up and totally kicked my ass.
flavored with age

Don't talk about the war

Attention, comedic-minded smarty-pantses with madd Photoshop skillz: the U.S. military Central Command has been dropping thousands of propaganda postcards all over Iraq. It is my belief that they are rife for detournement.

Note especially the card (suggesting that Iraqi workers face the prospect of being bombed into dust if they attempt to fix fiber-optic cables, of all things) that features a cartoon of Saddam Hussein with a big piggy-nose.

Your tax dollars at work, folks.
flavored with age

Anything you can do I can do better

Busting on celebrities is a double-edged sword. I mean, sure, it's fun. And it sometimes seems necessary, since as a culture we tend to indulge people like Roman emperors because they can, say, sing a crappy pop song. But, on the other hand, it's hard to be too hard on someone who is doing the job they're paid to do a lot better than I could.

And so I've always been hesitant to rank on people -- not to criticize them for their behavior or performance, mind you, but rather to hate them in the way that some people seem to hate the professionally famous -- when they're better at their chosen social role than I am.

For example, let's look at (well, not literally, heaven forfend) Rob Liefeld. Sure, he's an egomaniacal blowhard. Sure, he couldn't write his way out of a pencil drawing of a paper bag. Sure, he's poison on the comics industry. But he can draw better than I can. Which is CERTAINLY not to say that he's a good artist. He isn't. He's a terrible artist. But, he's better than I am, because I can't draw at all.

Or, to turn to another example, Keanu Reeves. He's not a good actor; he's a terrible actor. He's not smart, although he seems fairly gregarious. He's not innovative or talented. But we don't pay him to be talented or smart or a good actor; we pay him to be good-looking. And he's better-looking than I am. He's better-looking than I would be if I was good-looking.

Finally, there's Celine Dion. Now, I really hate Celine Dion's singing. I hate her music, I hate her voice, I hate her material, I hate her life, I hate her very existence. I am sad that she's even alive. But, I must admit at gunpoint, she can actually carry a tune. She does the job she's paid for. She's a better singer (which is not to say, a singer that I would actually want to listen to, but a more technically proficient one) than I am. She is better than me at the thing she is required to be better than me at. I can, and do, say a lot of awful things about Celine Dion; but I cannot say that she isn't better at singing Celine Dion songs than I am.

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