Month: July 2002 (Page 3 of 3)

The internet and computers in general are filled with passwords and password fields. But my question is this: how many times have you mistyped your password because you couldn’t see what you were typing, compared to the number of times someone was watching the screen while you typed it in?

“You have zero privacy anyway. Get over it.”
-Scott McNealy, Sun Microsystems

In the grand tradition of you-want-to-look-away-but-you-can’t pop culture events like the Anne Heche interview, I couldn’t stop myself from watching “American Idol” last night.

Yes, I took the bullet for all of you.

And even more embarrassing is that I actually enjoyed myself. Although it probably would have been more entertaining to watch the earlier episodes, when people of even more dubious talent were no doubt showcased. I thought even some of the finalists had mediocre voices (especially front-runner Justin Guarini, who seems to have earned his spot by turning Paula Abdul to quivering jelly). But the best ones were great, like Tamyra Gray and my favorite, the endearingly wacky Kelly Clarkson.

Come on. You’ve watched it too. Admit it.

I designate Willis Haviland Carrier my patron saint. Bless you, Mr. Carrier.

Welcome to my world of beauty, peace and hope.

Although I didn’t stay to watch Andy Rooney detail the contents of his desk drawer, I did enjoy watching the profile of Thomas Kinkade on “60 Minutes.” For those who don’t know him, Kinkade is the king of HOTEL MOTEL ART FAIR art, with cozy cottages and gardens and lighthouses as far as the eye can see. Kinkade takes it to a new level, though, by having hundreds of canvas-backed prints made of each image, with a few paint blobs added by factory workers to make them look more like originals. Brilliant, really.

What fascinated me about the profile was that while they were obviously making fun of Kinkade’s awful mass-produced “art” and the rabid fans who put their lives in hock to buy the stuff, they’re also (wittingly or unwittingly) giving him tons of free publicity. How many people, sitting waiting for their weekly Andy Rooney fix, will take a look at that profile and think, “Boy, that’s some good art. Gotta get down to the mall to get me some of that.”

The double-edged sword of pop culture.

Saw “Road to Perdition” today. While I don’t think it’s a masterpiece like Xkot does, it does do some things masterfully well.

What I kept thinking while I was watching it, and more so since I left the theater, is how it masters a mood. Not only a mood, but a sense of time and place that are rarely seen in movies today. So many times a period movie seems just that, actors with costumes walking around a fake set, like Enterprise crew members on the holodeck. You can just feel in your bones how fake everything is. Not this movie. It seems real; it seems like we’re in 1931. Even the presence of Tom Hanks doesn’t ruin that feeling, both because he can be an amazing actor, and because he has such a weathered, pushed-in face now that you can imagine him as a beaten-down mob enforcer.

The story is sort of thin, but if you look at it as a graphic novel come to life (which is what it is), it’s wondrous. Every shot is like a Hopper painting. It may be a triumph of style over substance, but it’s a beautiful ride.

When was the last time that you stumbled on a weblog you’d never read before, and just sat there for a long time, reading more and more? Where each new page was something fresh and engaging? When was the last time you wrote a post just to recommend another weblog?

Give a gray box with words inside a try. The fisheye photos on the current front page knocked my socks off, and the rest is just as good. Gives you hope that there’s all kinds of good stuff out there we just haven’t stumbled on.

Looking through some old e-mails pertaining to words mean things tonight, I was reminded:

I miss Top Ten Blog.

I was going to write a nasty post about this story, which outlines how celebrities have been getting fees from pharmaceutical companies to talk about their medical problems on talk shows, while simultaneously mentioning the drug or surgery or whatever that made their life so much better.

But then I thought, why am I even surprised? Why should I rail against something that seems so obvious? Did I think that celebrities appeared on television anywhere without some ulterior motive? It’s much less the celebrity’s or the drug company’s fault than it is my own. In the age of infomercials, is there anything anymore that can be considered a public service announcement?

I got the coolest birthday present yesterday from my good friend Becky. She and I had talked about how one of our favorite movies was “Local Hero,” where the oil exec from Texas goes to Scotland to buy up a town for a new refinery. Turns out, she and her husband have visited the location of the film several times. So as a present, she gave me some shells from the “Local Hero” beach.

An amazing present from an amazing person. Thanks again, Becky.