ThatKidInTheCorner

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February 25, 2005

Paris Hilton = Best Internet Marketer Ever?

strong>The SSW as an unappreciated online promotional genius?

My my, that Paris Hilton sure is an exciting celebrity! Just weeks after her decidedly underwhelming turn as the host of SNL (one which might have actually been career-limiting for other celebrities), Paris forced her way back to the top of the celeb-tabloid media metaverse (and even into the "real" media as well!) when one of her personal communication devices was hacked and her celebrity-filled address book was posted all over The Electric Internet.

"I don't know why this stuff always happens to me," Paris shrugged to the AP.

Let's assume for a minute that Paris doesn't have anything to do with this. In which case, she's just the sort of irresponsible airhead who routinely loses wallets, keys, cell phones, etc etc. We all know the type, and given the outputs of her recorded conversations with people holding microphones near her pie-hole, it seems an apt description. Paris doesn't seem very clever, or, at the very least, doesn't seem very gifted at the arts/ acts of "speaking" and "communicating." As deftly noted by the South Park guys in one of their best episodes in years, there's also a possibility that she's mostly famous for taking her clothes off; or, as South Park put it, for being a "Stupid Spoiled Whore."

But let's suspend disbelief and ignore all evidence for a moment, and consider another scenario -- the one in which Paris Hilton has reached some sort of supernatural communion with the zeitgeist and is, in fact, the most brilliant self-promoter since the heyday of Madonna. Let's imagine that Paris is unconsciously aware of the broader trends in youth-oriented media and fashion and can innately process unseen cultural undercurrents such that she is instinctively and effortlessly able to build the Paris Hilton brand into a consumer marketing powerhouse.

What then? Certainly, Paris has shown herself to be significantly more clever than I at making money. (Sure, she had some built-in advantages, but still, I went to well-branded universities and whatnot -- it's not like I didn't have any advantages.) She has all sorts of endorsement and licensing deals for her name and likeness, and also makes cash from her TV show, model deals, and other acting appearances. For this, she should be lauded (it is America, after all; money tends to be the agreed-upon methodology for "keeping score"). Given the demonstrable results of her success (all that money), I'd like to offer a theory in re: the secret of her success: Paris Hilton is the best Internet marketer ever.

It is fair to say that everyone engaged in commerce in the entire wired world -- from the Fortune 100 to the pizza shop on your corner -- is working RIGHT NOW to figure out how best to activate the Internet as a marketing tool. That is, how do you use the Internet to reach potential customers, promote your business/ brand, and drive sales and profits? Whether it's superclever underground buzz campaigns, splashy display advertising, or bidding on search terms, there is no shortage of theories on how best to use the Internet to generate dollars. If we assume 1990 as a starting point for the current incarnation of the Internet, it's tough to come up with anyone (any company, brand, or individual) who has wrung more marketing value out of the Internet than Paris Hilton.

Consider, for a moment, the following question: what are the top five biggest Internet Buzz Generators of all time (where "all time" = "the past 15 years")? Let's define "Internet Buzz Generators" as "(a) content or information found and spread primarily over the Internet and which (b) qualified as "must-see" for a large percentage of Internet users and (c) is instantly and easily recollected, such that you can remember the time when you first saw it." As I have it, Paris has two of the Top Five (though I'm sure I'm missing some good ones; feel free to point out omissions in the comments section):

(1) The Paris Sex Tape: nightvision never looked so sleazy! And, go figure, it hit the Internet the week before her TV show aired!
(2) Pam Anderson and Tommy Lee Sex Tape: the granddaddy of them all -- these two were pioneers for a sadly voyeuristic world.
(3) The Starr Report: if you remember correctly, the afternoon this hit the web, work absolutely ground to a halt so we could all read the words "oral sex" in a government document.
(4) Janet Jackson's Breast: though it happened on TV, the proof was on the Internet, especially in the weeks of sanctimonious hand-wringing that followed.
(5) Paris Hilton's Address Book: this one makes the cut just because we're at a point where all the traditional media channels are actually reporting on the information that was only available on the Internet. Don't let proximity fool you -- this is pretty big.

I've got her with two out of the top five, including the number-one spot. Granted, there is a, ahem, theme to the entries above. (THEY'RE ALL ABOUT SEX.) Sex on the Internet? No. No. It couldn't be. Is there sex on the Internet? I thought it was for enabling B2B transactions in industrial manufacturing and printing out boarding passes! Does it cheapen the above list that the biggest Internet stories ever mostly involve mating and nekkid people? Perhaps. On the flip side, you can begrudgingly admit that the folks who've taken most advantage of the Internet as a marketing tool understand that standards are in flux -- people aren't ashamed to admit they've seen the Paris sex tape. It doesn't make Paris any less of a sex star (where "sex star" is the most apt description of her celebrity) to observe that she has a better sense of what qualifies as R-rated (versus NC-17) than most. But it also doesn't diminish her talent for self-promotion over the Internet to say she primarily takes her clothes off for money.

Inasmuch as Paris has a rival, in terms of young female celebrity, it's probably Britney Spears. The past few years haven't been so kind to Britney; though the Us Weekly's of the world are still interested, she's fallen off the radar screen somewhat. You wonder what a sex tape would do for Britney? Or a look inside her address book? Sure, a sex tape cashes in your chips a bit early in a long-term brand management sense, but hey, isn't Britney inevitably headed there anyway? Like Britney won't appear completely nude for money at some point? Maybe she should hire Paris to manage her online marketing; of all the costumes in which we've seen Britney, "blurry night vision shadow" isn't yet on the list.

Paris might "just" be a sex star, but no sex star -- or anyone else for that matter -- has extracted more marketing value from the Internet. Sure, Paris would have been a Page Six darling regardless, but the Internet has made her an international mega-brand. It isn't her fault that our prudishness and passion for prurience have offered her the opportunity to launch herself into the celebrity stratosphere. You could also argue that her online campaign has been extremely expensive, not in terms of dollars, but it terms of surrendering her, ahem, innocence and long-term growth potential (I mean, really, what else is left for her?). Fair enough. But Paris seems to be a carpe diem sort of girl -- I'm sure she doesn't lose sleep over what her celebrity has cost her. Whether deliberate or not, it's tough to deny just how effective an Internet marketer she's been; the challenge for the rest of us is figuring out how to make it work without having sex on camera.

Posted by thatkid at 3:40 PM | Comments (0)

Why C-Webb Will Love AI

Playing with Allen Iverson will cover Chris Webber's biggest weakness

Wow. Billy King might have had the best day ever for a Sixers general manager yesterday. Not only did he unload two massively crippling contracts (Kenny Thomas and Glenn Robinson), but he managed to get Chris Webber in return! Chris Webber! This is the best player -- other than AI -- to play for the Sixers since Sir Charles left. Sure, he gets paid an ungodly amount of money, is on the back nine of his career (turns 32 this week) and has a bum knee, but hey, he's a 20-10 guy and a great passer. Suddenly, the Sixers are exciting!

Even better, the best thing about the acquisition is how well AI will complement Webber. Beyond the whole inside-outside/ little-big thing, Allen Iverson compensates for Chris Webber's biggest weakness. Chris Webber is a great basketball player, but Chris Webber, ahem, doesn't always, ahem, step up in big moments. Whether it's the imaginary time out at the 1993 Final Four or the choke against the Lakers in the 2002 Western Conference semifinals, Chris Webber is a little gun-shy with the game on the line. That is, he's scared to take the big shot.

Which is fine! Better than that, it's awesome! The Sixers ALREADY have someone who wants to take the big shot more desperately than anyone else in the league -- so much so that it hurts his feelings when he doesn't get the chance! Chris Webber won't have to take any big shots because Allen Iverson won't let him! This is perfect!

.500 and Atlantic Division Championship here we come!

Posted by thatkid at 3:03 PM | Comments (0)

February 23, 2005

The Professor (Doesn't) Wear Prada?

An exercise in uncomfortable silence

For a group of people ostensibly 100 grand poorer for their two years in graduate school in a big city, my business school classmates' penchant for snobbery -- specifically related to profligate consumption of overpriced luxury goods and services -- never ceases to amaze. Perhaps it's a byproduct of their choice in graduate school (I mean, you'd expect the money-grubbing/ consumerist folks to end up at b-school), or just a function of living in New York, but I am perpetually amazed by the brands of attire and gadget that grace the hallways. I imagine the folks getting their masters in comp lit aren't dressed quite as well.

All that said, I was still floored by an exchange in one of my classes yesterday. The professor in said class is an accomplished marketing professional who has held jobs with a number of the world's leading consumer packaged goods firms. Her industry expertise is what landed her the teaching gig -- she isn't a lifetime academic. She is bright, experienced, and certainly makes a very professional impression. This is no frumpy bookworm; she's well-dressed and certainly in touch with consumer tastes and trends.

To open a discussion of luxury goods marketing, this professor held up her backpack and announced that she had purchased said backpack in Chinatown for fifteen dollars. The backpack had a Prada label. So, she asked us, do you think that this knock-off Prada backpack was hurting Prada's business?

Immediately, a hand shot up with the urgency of second-grade teacher-pleaser. The professor pointed at the owner of the hand. Okay, what do you think?

"Well, it's patently obvious to anyone that that's not a Prada bag. Prada would never make something like that."

(And the needle scratches off the record.)

Translation: this question is irrelevant; even the most declasse bargain-hunter from Kansas would be able to see that cheap counterfeit for the harlequin arts-and-crafts project it most surely is.

In retrospect, the confidence of her faux-posh Brit accent and the disdainful finality with which she punctuated the end of her statement ("No need for further discussion; we've closed the book on this one!") probably made it that much worse. Still, she could have said it in the Cartman voice and it would have still been awful. Ugh. On the bright side, it at least bisected the ennui of an otherwise slow day in class.

And people wonder why no one likes MBAs.

Posted by thatkid at 4:48 PM | Comments (0)

February 22, 2005

Some Kind of Electric Snake...Coming Straight At Us

Hunter S. Thompson taught a generation of fratboys to glamorize their gluttony! Like me!

For the hundreds of snippets of dialogue which I've committed to memory from sundry television programs and films (some good, some, ahem, not so good), it's somewhat shameful that I can't recall more than a handful of lines from books. This is not for a lack of reading; I churn through books pretty aggressively. But, for whatever reason (probably something to do with hearing the words spoken versus just reading them), there are only a few passages from books that are in heavy rotation in my Quotables playlist.

Thinking it through, the qualifiers are a pretty eclectic bunch: Scott Fitzgerald, Douglas Adams, Orson Scott Card (oh do I tip my hand!), David Foster Wallace, Neal Stephenson, and, of course, Hunter S. Thompson. That is, to this day and for the 12 years since I first read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream, I am incapable of looking at a messy room without thinking, in Thompson's words, "[T]he room looked like the site of some disastrous zoological experiment involving whiskey and gorillas."

(You could make a pretty compelling argument that said passage has remained in my vocabulary due to my, ahem, extended adolescence/ overgrown-fratboy lifestyle. There's a fairly strong possibility that I've seen more than the average share of drunken-primate ravaged rooms. I mean, YIKES, look at the piece I wrote on Friday -- that thing is brimming with clumsy primate references.)

In the broadest possible sense, I did not "get" Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when I first read it my junior year of high school. Errrrr, giant flying serpents? Las Vegas? The relative debaucherousness of Los Angeles' gentlemen's clubs versus those of Las Vegas? Ummmmmm. Mercifully, I still don't get most of it (though I have been to Vegas). At the same time that I didn't get it, I thought it was hilarious. The language, the humor, the bravado -- I thought it was just the cat's meow. That this guy could at once be so self-destructive and so clever really opened my eyes -- hey, you can be smart AND a little crazy! Mind you, I couldn't begin to grasp the intricacies of the context in which he wrote that book. I didn't really understand the counterculture, didn't know Rolling Stone to be about anything more than pop music, and had no conception of the cultural evolution of Las Vegas. Nope, I just thought he was really clever. Hunter S. Thompson made gluttonous slobs seem smart. Even better: he made the act of writing about those gluttonous slobs -- in the most aggressive, profane, insightful, and funny way possible -- cool. (Certainly cool to me.)

It's far beyond my remit to attempt to properly arbitrate Hunter S. Thompson's place in the cultural memory. How much of actual frat-boy humor must call him an influence? Ultimately, he didn't actually produce a large catalog of quality writing; he was more a flashes-of-brilliance sort of guy. In fact, you could argue that he hadn't really written anything of great consequence in 30 years. Yet his public persona and celebrity lingered. The rumors of a drunken HST planted on the front porch of his secluded Colorado home spraying shotgun blasts at unwanted visitors still makes me smile. His late writing (featured on ESPN .com's Page 2) was occasionally amusing, but mostly irrelevant. He'd lost his fastball. But it was cool nonetheless.

I tried to dig out my copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when I heard the news this weekend. Couldn't find it. I know exactly what the copy looks like too: the pages are completely yellowed, the red and yellow cover is half torn off, and there are page numbers circled (you know, the ones with the especially funny passages). You can never find the copies of your most favorite books -- you've lent them too many times, to too many people, to really expect them to find their way back to you. Of course, "my" copy of Fear and Loathing wasn't actually mine in the first place -- it was given to me by a friend (but it was a keeper...err, at least I think it was). Looks like Fear and Loathing will be making its way onto my bought-it-more-than-once list (inasmuch as I never bought it in the first place).

In the meantime, I shall raise a glass to Dr. Gonzo and toast his honor! Cheers to you, Good Doctor! If there's a Las Vegas in heaven, I hope you get to spend eternity trashing the penthouse suite.

Posted by thatkid at 9:07 PM | Comments (0)

February 21, 2005

Something About An Art Project?

My admittedly superfluous and/ or obligatory two cents in re: The Gates

In the swirling debate between "Yeah, I'm pretty down with the Gates" and "I'm not actually that into the Gates," I've been leaning pretty-down-with-the-Gates-ward from the start. In general, the idea of a giant public art project in Central Park seemed like the sort of stunt I could get behind. A big, bold, accessible piece of public art that would light up the park in the middle of winter. I mean, what else am I really doing with Central Park in February anyway? Go for it, funny-looking Euro-art-dudes!

(And it was orange! Just like FC Camena! And like FC Camena, perhaps The Gates would be hard-nosed and gritty, with a penchant for physical play and passion in re: questionable refereeing decisions!)

Anyhoo, I took a couple walks through the park last week, you know, to check it out. My big takeaway was that it looked a lot cooler the day it was sunny and windy than the day it was overcast and still.

Check it out -- this is the overcast and still day:

And this was the sunny and windy day -- much better, I know:

Right. That's all I got for you about art. A couple photos, and an allusion to an imaginary soccer team. In my defense, I did go to the Whitney Museum last week. Honest.

Posted by thatkid at 11:58 PM | Comments (0)

February 18, 2005

Consumer Semi-Durables

In which the wireless router breaks. Again.

Our wireless router broke last week. Super Bowl Sunday, to be exact. (Call it an omen.) Though losing the router isn't a completely crippling equipment failure at my residence (the cable modem still worked and we could poach other wireless networks from our unsuspectingly generous neighbors), it certainly qualifies as inconvenient, requiring multiple calls to the broadband provider and the equipment manufacturer and the attendant arguments with customer service representatives.

If you're keeping track, that brings us to four (4) wireless routers killed by our apartment over the past three (3) years. Said apartment has also killed a Playstation 2 (we're on our second one of those), a couch (BrownCouch, we miss you so!), a nintendo chair (these little things that sit on the ground and rock back and forth -- it makes sense when you see it), two remote controls (we thought it was just the batteries on one -- 'fraid not), and two coffee makers (though the new one is absolutely a pleasure; good riddance to the bilge-water-brewing old ones).

From a score-keeping perspective, it's a pretty impressive tally (and I'm sure I've omitted a few things). From an acting-like-a-grown-up perspective, it's pretty weak. If I was an appliance or consumer electronics product, I would be absolutely terrified at the prospect of being assigned to our apartment. We're like the house next door to Andy's with all the mutilated playthings in Toy Story.

I bring this up because in a conversation with my Dad the other night, he not-so-subtly hinted that I was "not nice to machines." I told him I was thinking about buying a car, and before I could finish the sentence, he said, "Two-year lease." Huh? "For you, two-year lease. You'll pay a little more, but at least you won't have to worry about maintenance." Yikes! I didn't realize I was one of the gorillas from the Samsonite commercial. Then we got to talking about machines in general, and he observed that people don't think enough about routine, preventative maintenance. Surely this is true; at the same time, how many machines (other than cars) actually allow for preventative maintenance?

Take my computer. I'm pretty meticulous about running anti-virus and anti-spyware/ anti-adware applications. I don't like things gunking up my (increasingly) fragile works. I never open e-mail attachments. I have an external hard drive where everything is backed up. I even have an anal filing system and abhor leaving unattended documents on my desktop. At the same time, my computer is on the verge of dying. Too much carrying around and ferrying to and fro on the subway has actually caused structural damage to the poor little thing. It's fine when it's on, but apparently some connection is loose inside such that it's REALLY HARD to power it up should it turn off. Past sending it back to to manufacturer for a new model (keep dreaming -- my warranty expired years ago), I really don't have much of a choice. Compaq Presario 700, it's you and me forever!

The interesting thing is that with so few actual mechanical technologies involved in our daily life, it's really hard for normal folks to "maintain" things, much less "fix" them. Oh, we can tinker with firmware or defrag our hard drive, but what do you do when your MP3 player won't turn on? When the button on the remote control doesn't work anymore? It's fine when the replacement value of the object is low; hello, path of least resistance! (Such is the case with the wireless router. Whereas we payed over $200 for our first one, the model we have now cost, wait for it, $19.99 after rebate. $19.99! I'll spend more than that on dinner tonight! And I won't even eat that well! For the cost of two six-packs at the deli, I get this nifty device that beams the most amazing communication technology in human history through the air! Amazing!) But when the replacement cost is more of a gutshot, you're SOL. And it isn't like technologies are getting more comprehensible or easily maintained in the future.

Of course, there's plenty of room for heavy-handed metaphors for how our treatment of machines echoes our cultural attitudes towards our bodies -- we don't want to take preventative steps with our health, we just want the doctors to fix us when we're broken. I'm sure there's some deeper significance buried in there somewhere. Mostly I'm just trying to find some excuse for our man cave's unique record of appliance killing that doesn't involve the words "clumsy," "ham-fisted," or "in the manner of Neaderthals trying to build a fire with a mobile phone." Maybe it isn't really our fault! Maybe it was all a coincidence! Maybe they just don't make 'em like they used to!

(Or maybe I have the dexterity of a drunken chimpanzee. Probably that last one.)

Posted by thatkid at 12:52 PM | Comments (0)

February 16, 2005

The Life Aquatic With James Cameron

No, I mean, it really was The Life Aquatic with James Cameron; also, it was like Armageddon

"I've never seen a biomass that large!"
--James Cameron, Aliens of the Deep

So I guess if you make a lot a lot a lot a lot of money as a relatively young man and you're not necessarily into owning a professional football team, you can do things like make a 3-D IMAX special-effects-laden "documentary" film about deep-sea exploration and the search for extraterrestrial life and cast yourself as the lead.

Such is most certainly the case regarding Aliens of the Deep, James Cameron's (relatively) new documentary now showing on IMAX screens. From the start, it's clear that the film's auteur and finacier, Mr. Cameron, is also the star of the show. After a breakneck opening title sequence, we cut to James Cameron in the high-tech control room of a ship at sea. In his best world-weary-yet-confident action-hero voice, he intones: "I'm James Cameron. Here's the deal."

He then explains "the deal." Said deal is, remarkably, not unlike the premise of Armageddon (or, if you prefer, The Core, etc et al, you get the idea). That is, he -- the tortured leader of the expedition -- assembles a ragtag team of scientists from a disarmingly diverse set of specialties for a high-tech, high-pressure trip to a dangerous and exotic world! There's the marine animal physiologist! There's the astrobiologist! There's the marine seismologist! There's the planetary scientist from SETI! And the genius behind the operation? James Cameron.

I stopped counting after the third time that James Cameron explained to the camera that he was an "explorer"; in case the point was lost on us, he later added that his exploration of the deep sea was much more exciting than any sort of silly Hollywood special effects. James Cameron doesn't just make Hollywood monster movies -- he leads humanity into the deep dark reaches of the great beyond! Perhaps the most hilarious part of it all is that he's edited the film in the style of a bug-budget sci-fi thriller, complete with a good-looking and culturally diverse cast, pathos-inspiring moments of introduction for all the characters, dorkily pithy one-liners, and a booming score. Oh right, and did I mention that the film ends with Cameron's crew making first contact with an alien race? In our own solar system?

Mercifully, this utter and complete exercise in vanity from James Cameron was redeemed by Wes Anderson's decision to release The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou a few months back. That is, there existed precisely the right vocabulary for snarky viewers to exchange sneers and giggles at the massive spectacle of James Cameron's ego. All the specific cultural signifiers of the filmmaker/ oceanographer archetype that were so expertly mocked by The Life Aquatic are present and accounted for in Aliens of the Deep: the irony-free narration from the patriarch/ leader, the wacky cast of scientists, the fetishized photography of the expensive-looking equipment, shots of faces framed by the portholes of submersibles, the jargon-heavy dialogue, the ridiculously exotic deep-sea creatures (a jaguar fish would have looked tame) -- even a bunch of dudes in speedos and a rubber dinghy checking the submersibles before they dove! Speedos! All that was missing was Seu Jorge singing David Bowie songs in Portugese on the deck!

At the same time, it would be completely disingenuous of me to say that I didn't love this movie. They charge you an extra $1.50 for the IMAX; it's more than worth it. And this one is in 3-D as well. It is flat-out amazing to have so much 3-D IMAX footage from 3500 meters (almost 11,000 feet) below sea level. There's no light that deep, so you get all sorts of creepy creatures that are able to survive without light: odd translucent phantom squid, blind little shrimp, albino crabs. It's remarkable -- like the best Discovery Channel show you've ever seen. Even James Cameron's ego is upstaged by the world he's able to show at the bottom of the ocean. And it's all in 3-D!

(Would it kill Hollywood to make more movies in IMAX 3-D? As a consumer, I'm less and less interested in the movie-theater experience. The seats are small and uncomfortable, the food costs too much, and you can't move around or talk. I need that for some freaking romantic comedy? But if we're talking about 3-D IMAX, well, that's an entirely different value proposition altogether. I'm just sayin'.)

The film loses the plot a bit when it starts speculating on the existence of extraterrestrial life. [LOOK OUT! SPOILERS TO FOLLOW! THOUGH I WOULDN'T SWEAT THEM SO MUCH; IT'S NOT LIKE THERE'S A TON OF PLOT ANYWAY.] The inclusion of digitally created space missions cheapens the rest of the film -- it makes you question the veracity of what you've seen a bit, especially the imaginary aliens. But again, I can't front like I didn't like the 3-D IMAX space missions, though the film's ending is perhaps a bit much. If I had to summarize, it would go something like "James Cameron leads a ragtag group of scientists to the bottom of the ocean and the far reaches of space, where they discover that there might just be alien life in our own solar system -- alien life that looks EXACTLY like James Cameron predicted it would at the end of The Abyss!

I won't for a moment pretend I'm not jealous of James Cameron. I mean, the guy has a boatload of money -- why not become a deep-sea explorer? And why not make a movie about it and share what you've seen with the world in the most amazing and breathtaking way possible? He's the King of the World -- of course he's going to be a little high on himself. His ego doesn't make the 3-D IMAX any less spectacular. This is an amazing movie; I'm glad someone spent the money to make it.

(I would have bought a pro football team, though.)

Posted by thatkid at 12:01 PM | Comments (0)

February 13, 2005

Somethin' For the Kids

In which I admit to a rooting interest in an entertainment
industry awards show; let's go Kanye West!

Kanye West's The College Dropout was the best album I
purchased last year. Beyond the numerous listens on my computer and
my MP3 player, almost 12 months after I acquired it, the album remains
one of the seven CDs I'm sure to grab if, say, I know I'll need music
for a car trip. At first I thought it was just my favorite recent
hip-hop album; then I realized that it was one of the best hip-hop
albums I owned; then I realized it was one of the best albums I owned
comma period. I liked the album so much that the news of Kanye West's
ten Grammy nominations actually led me to GET EXCITED ABOUT AN AWARDS
SHOW. While I usually reserve my snarkiest levels of snobby disdain
for entertainment-award television programs (Come see greedy
"entertainment" "executives" congratulate themselves on "making a lot
of money" this past year under the guise of "artistic"
"achievement"!), this year was different: I really wanted my guy to
win!

I read this morning that despite the basket of nominations, Kanye West
is not considered the front-runner for many awards. Apparently
they're going to give them a bunch to Ray Charles posthumously, and
then hand the rest to Usher. Oh well. Such is life, and there's an
off chance he'll win anyway. Luckily, since I can't remember the last
time any music I really enjoyed won a Grammy, I'm not too distraught.
Still, it's worth noting for a moment why Kanye West is so good --
good for listening, good for the young people, and good for the music
biz.

It really says something about the state of popular hip-hop that Kanye
West stands out mostly because he actually has something to say. In a
genre where the chart-toppers over the past few years have chosen to
talk about little more than (a) how much money they have, (b) the
brands of the products they enjoy purchasing with said money, and (c)
how committed they are to killing those individuals who fail to
adequately acknowledge the fortunes and successes they've acquired,
Kanye West talks about things like consumerism, insecurity, and God.
And he actually has complicated throughts on said topics! Certainly
Kanye West isn't alone in making hip-hop with a conscience; there are
plenty of "underground" hip-hop MCs who are making thoughtful records
built on complicated themes and interesting ideas. What makes Kanye
West special is that he's so gifted as a producer -- his songs
sound really good. It's as if Nelly had something to say!

Before he was an MC, he was making quite a tidy living producing
tracks for the Jay-Zs of the world: creative songs with insanely poppy
hooks. The kinds of songs that sell oodles of records. Yet, like
many producing prodigies (the Neptunes, we're looking in your
direction), he had ambitions beyond the mixing board -- he wanted to
be the star. What's so cool about Kanye West is that he's become that
star without succumbing to the standard hip-hop tropes. While The
College Dropout certainly contains some fluff (the first single
was a R&B tune with actor Jamie Foxx in a guest appearance), the best
songs on the record tell complicated and interesting stories. It's
obvious that Kanye West was thinking about this album for a long time
before he recorded it -- you essentially get a thorough accounting of
his life until that point, bitterness, anger, cynicism, and
insecurities included.

In a sense, the whole album is an act of defensive posturing: the
over-arching theme seems to be "Even though I didn't finish college,
I'm not an idiot." He complains about grade-school teachers sticking
him in the slow class and about parents and adults demanding that he
get a college degree if only for the sake of having said degree.
Kanye made some big decisions, took some risks, and he's proud of his
success: in one of my favorite lyrics on the record, he explains,"I
told 'em I finished school, and started my own business/ They said,
"Oh you graduated?"/ "Nah: I decided I was finished."

Kanye West also dares to take on consumerism. In a world where it's
tough to find a rapper with a single on the charts who doesn't have
his own clothing line, Kanye West admits that he catches himself
spending too much money on products purely as an exercise in
insecurity. That is, he bought the $400 watch even though he couldn't
pronounce the name of the brand -- and was pretty sure no one else had
heard of it either. Perhaps! Surely, Kanye is a devout capitalist
(that's why he dropped out of school, after all), but at least he's
thought through the forces that are motivating him to run up the
credit-card bill. As he says of one of the characters on the album:
she didn't have a car, "so she named her daughter Alexis."

Maybe the truest measure of Kanye's production and MC skills is how
he's actually made me like a Christian rock song. "Jesus
Walks" is the best track on the album, and one of the best hip-hop
songs in a couple years. Threading a nifty sample of a gospel record
(the source of which I caught in a documentary about this horrific
prison in Louisiana called The Farm after buying the album --
creepy) through a military beat in the vein of Eminem's standout track
"Square Dance," "Jesus Walks" is a song about Kanye's relationship
with God. Usually this sort of thing makes me squeamish; I'm not so
into other people (especially famous people) lecturing me in re:
Jesus. Luckily, you can usually trust hip-hop not to cross that line.
And Kanye knows this; as he says "They say I can rap about anything
except for Jesus....If I talk about God, my record won't get played."
What makes the song so remarkable (beyond the music, the span of the
lyrics, and the steadily building musical and thematic crescendos), is
just how self-aware it is. Okay music industry, you don't want a pop
hip-hop song about God? Well, I'll just save my fattest hook for
exactly that song, and dare you NOT to take it. I double-dog dare
you! And he completely nails it. The hook, the lyrics -- he's
actually made a explosively catchy club song about God. And despite
my best attempts at cynicism (I mean, ahem, I can't be sure Kanye
makes it to church every Sunday), I can't help but love this song.
Kanye pointed at the center-field fence and knocked it out of the
park.

In a lot of ways, The College Dropout is defined by what it's
not. That is, it's not mindless pop hip-hop. In the context of the
Chingys, the 50 Cents, and the Lil Jons of the world, you stand out if
you have something to say. And I get that for a geek like me,
sporting a resume with well-branded educational experiences, I have to
admit I'm impressed by this guy. Kanye and I didn't come from the
same place, but I do understand his insecurities, and can acknowledge
his fears in forsaking college-graduate anonymity for a shot at the
big time. It resonates, and it's impressive. Who knows if he'll have
anything left for his next record; given the sums he's likely
commanding for producing records for other artists, I can't imagine
he'll be so motivated for another 21 tracks of soul-searching. He'll
probably just talk about being famous and buying Bentleys and whatnot
like the rest of them. But that's cool -- he's earned the right to
take a record off. In the meantime, I'll at least have someone to
root for tonight at the Grammy's.

Posted by thatkid at 11:04 PM | Comments (0)

February 7, 2005

My Football Feelings Are Bruised

In which I reflect on the Thuper Bowl, and briefly consider that I have zero perspective in re: pro football

Ugh.

UGH.

I can comfortably divide my emotions into two broad categories. The first category is my normal set of human feelings -- you know, how I feel about my family, my friends, my aspirations, my successes, my failures, and whatnot. Those feelings are pretty standard, and are pretty in line with common expectations of a normal adult. The other category is my football feelings. These feelings aren't rational. They are tied to the fortunes of young millionaires whose weekly performances are broadcast on television. I don't know any of these people. They aren't my friends. I don't make any more money if they win. I don't eat any less if they lose. But my mood is actually impacted by what happens to the Eagles each Sunday. I can't give you a good answer for this -- I'm an otherwise rational, normal person, except when it comes to the Eagles. It's just how it is. Those are my football feelings.

And my football feelings are bruised today.

I really thought the Birds had a shot yesterday. They did. They were in the game! They were! Were it not for the surprise appearance of Evil Donovan McNabb (Taking sacks in the red zone? Throwing picks? What? WHAT???) and some absolutely inexplicable clock management in the second AND fourth quarter, they might have knocked the Patriots out.

Oh, but they didn't. The Pats won because they win close games. They were more composed than the Birds, and it made a difference. For all the joking and the clowning in the week leading up to the game, the Birds came out tight. Too tight. And they panicked. They panicked by not running the ball, by turning the ball over, and by being indecisive at the end of both halves. The Pats didn't panic; they absorbed the punches from the Birds, regrouped, and did enough to win.

I can't bear the thought of lengthy game analysis, but I would say that MAD PROPS have been earned by the Pats O-Line, TO, and Charlie Weis. TO, especially. Skip Bayless, Peter King, and all the other blathermonkeys need to eat a little crow. TO is welcome to play for my team as long as he likes. He earned it.

And now for the football offseason. Right now, I can't even consider thinking about the energy involved in following football for another season. I'm spent. Still, I also know that I'll have complicated opinions regarding Corey Simon's contract and how the Birds should approach the draft within 96 hours. But today, I get to be bummed.

Not that I can complain about too much. My favorite team's been good for a bunch of years now. They haven't won it all (yet), but all their key components are coming back and are on the young side -- they should be good for the next couple years as well. That part is great. And I freakin LOVED reading about how good they were from August through the first week of February. That part was great. I got to go to six games. That part was great. Also, I had a pretty good year with my sundry fantasy teams. That part was pretty cool. So, on balance, this was a good football year for me -- it just had something of a crap ending.

(Any time I get bummed about the Eagles, I think -- it could be worse. I could be a Cleveland Browns fan. I could have suffered through my team being inches from the Super Bowl for a couple years, watched as my coach from the early 90s moved to another team and became a "genius", AND THEN sat through the whole franchise getting moved to some lame-ass city where they wear weak-ass purple uniforms, assemble the best defense of the past 10 years, and win the Super Bowl. See? The Birds aren't so bad after all.)

But hey, at least they covered.

(Even the blood money doesn't help my football feelings. I'll grow up now. Or soon. Probably soon. We'll see. Fingers are crossed.)

Posted by thatkid at 6:50 PM | Comments (0)

February 6, 2005

Official Season Finale Episode Preview!

In which I reveal the most important elements of today's television program; I also think the Eagles will win

So the season finale episode of the NFL television program is upon us! Unlike the season finale episodes of the past 24 years, this year my favorite characters and team are prominently involved -- quite a thrill! Oh, they've been close to appearing on this show the past couple years, but they haven't made it all the way to the final elimination challenge. Now they have. And now it's time for their movie script ending.

I've been running my mouth about the Eagles for, oh, most of my life. Only now, living in another city, has supporting the Eagles become an element of my social identity -- one which I've come to savor. In Philly, everyone wants the Eagles to win. Duh. Even the ones that aren't that into it can at least appreciate that most people in the city are much happier if the Eagles score more than the other team on Sunday.

Living in New York among people from all over the US (and the world) makes supporting the Eagles an important point of pride. I like walking around on Sunday in my #5 shirt; I like exchanging smiles with pedestrians who appear to be sporting the same flavor of officially licensed NFL products as I; I like running into Eagles fans on the Upper West Side on their way to the Linc on a Sunday morning; I like repruhzenting Eagles fans everywhere in the Big City: vulgar second-rate losers whose team will never win anything. I really enjoy being an Eagles fan, and I'm sorry the season will have to end today. Will it have a happy ending? Here's how I see it all shaking out:

Gameday Rituals: gameday preparation on a normal Sunday principally consists of securing (a) the proper attire and (b) venue. That is, I lay out my black t-shirt, white #5 Eagles jersey and comfortable jeans. Check. Then I plan for the home or away game -- in the living room or at the bar. The Thuper Bowl demands a much grander scale of planning, especially when one is hosting a little get-together. Check. I also think it's important to drink coffee out of my Eagles mug (the silver one, not the ceramic one and not the official commemorative one from the Fourth-and-26 game) on game days. N.B.: there have been discussions regarding a Thuper Bowl-inspired trip to Mass. I'm not going there. I just think it would be disrespectful to ask God for the Eagles to win the Thuper Bowl; God has more important concerns. Like making sure TO's ankle is healed.

Location Remorse: it wasn't supposed to be like this. I thought if the Birds got the Thuper Bowl I'd be there, no questions asked. Then grad school came along, and an attendant inability to justify the $2500 ticket price (that's before flights, hotels, meals, rental car, etc). So. Then I was going to go to Philly for the game, in a sort of "if the city burns I'd like to be there to see it" sort of way. But then dental surgery happened. So I'm here in New York for the game. Luckily, I'll be with some serious Birds fans, so it's all good. Still, I'll be jealous when Philly burns and I don't get to see it.

Happy To Be Here?: ugh. Past TO's ankle and the "debate" over Bill Belichick's "brilliance" the discussion of how the Eagles just seem "happy to be here" is far and away my least favorite piece of pre-game journo-fodder. Bill Simmons and the extended cast of cnnsi.com, I'm looking in your direction. This opinion seems to be born of certain Eagles having a sense of humor at media day. Hmmm. So I pay attention to a LOT of Eagles coverage. The deal with the Eagles the past couple years at the NFC Championship has been that they've been tight in preparations, and then have come out tight when the games began. This year was different; the team made a point of demonstrating just how loose they were in the week leading up to the NFC title game. They came out loose in that game, and they won. Thus, the light moods at the Super Bowl are more about staying loose and not about "being happy to be there." Sometimes "professional" sports journalists don't pay as much attention to the details as they should. (Also, they're "sports" journalists, but more on that later.)

*****Just made the trip to the supermarket. Spent a lot, but at the same time, a lot less than $2500. We gots enough frozen junk food to open a Ruby Tuesday. I journeyed to said supermarket in my Eagles outfit. Some clerk at the store asked me who I was rooting for, nonironically. It took all of my earthly powers not to pull a Marvin-from-Midnight Run on him and reply with "Who the f*ck do you think?" I gave him a "Go Birds" instead. And they say Philly fans are boorish louts!*****

People I Hope Get Tickets: how sweet would it be if there was a special Eagles-fan-only telecast of the game, complete with Merril Reese audio feed and Philly-related shots of famous faces in the crowd? Instead of showing me the commissioner and some movie stars, I would love to get shots of Randall, Buddy Ryan and Wes Hopkins. Speaking of, do you think any or all of those folks will be at the game? Do you think Prince Jeffrey hooks them up? I wonder. I hope they're all there. They deserve it. Especially Buddy. DREAM SEQUENCE: Brian Dawkins blitzes off the right edge, Brady doesn't see him, and Dawk just levels him. Fumble. Kearse recovers and bounds in for a touchdown. Cut to shot of a smiling Buddy Ryan.

The Wisdom of Crowds: YIKES! The line I saw yesterday was 7.5 points! Perhaps! That's a lot of points. Regardless of how the game pans out versus the spread, a 7.5-point is a pretty compelling indicator of a Pats victory. As someone who's pretty convinced of the virtues of collective wisdom, that line is tough for me to ignore. Despite everything I know about the power of groups and markets to make accurate decisions/ predictions/ assessments, here's why I think the line is wrong: fundamentally, the Super Bowl is an overbet game, the bettors are too obsessed with misleading past results. That is, the market forgets that this Patriots team ISN'T invincible. Were it not for a boner kickoff (how can you kick it out of bounds, John Casay? HOW???), last year's game might have gone differently. The Patriots are great, but they're not perfect (though this team is as good as last year's, and is in some respects better). The Philly brand is haunted by the three NFC Championship losses, despite the fact that this team is freakin DYNO-MITE against the spread over the past couple years. That was people are focused on -- the losses, not the team's performance the past couple weeks, and the rest of this season as well. So I think the market is mispricing this game.

*****Did you catch Tina Fey rocking her Philly accent last night on SNL? I had zero opinion of Tina Fey before that; now I might have a new crush. She absolutely NAILED the PhillyGirl thing, from the accent to the word choice to the facial expressions to the hand gestures. Brilliant. And then she was wearing a Birds shirt for the closing credits! Awesome. Just awesome. Tina, you are awwwwright.*****

All Kinds of Time: the thing that gets me really REALLY excited about watching this game is that #5 has A LOT to prove. A LOT. In the same way that folks seem to be focusing on old Eagles losses in examining this game, so too do they seem to be overplaying old/ bad McNabb. This guy has been the franchise for five years now. FIVE YEARS. This team did NOT have players on the offense for a LONG time, and still they won a ton of games -- mostly because of McNabb. This is the year it all came together for him; he just looks completely in control out there, in a way that defies your expectations of him. As much as he's the NFL poster boy (his image is in the NFL logo bumper), he still might not get enough press for just how classy he is. To play in Philly, and endure the press and the fans, to deal with drug-addicted blowhards talking sh*t about him for the color of his skin, and to have to suffer through network blathermonkeys talking about how he isn't a good passer, yadda yadda, and never once break character? Dude. And then to suffer through TO's nonsense this year? AND STILL NEVER BREAK CHARACTER? DUDE. It's very impressive. But I think he's got a lot of anger to work out. And I think he's planning to work it out against the Patriots. Always fear the dude with something to prove (see below).

The KillShot: I hate to bring it up again (and I don't think it will come into play, I don't), but do you realize that the Patriots are one Hollis Thomas personal foul away from Rohan Davey leading their team against the Eagles? (Of course, it works the other way too.) It won't happen though -- at least not on purpose. Both teams are too proud to pull some a stunt like that. But still. Injuries impact games. I wonder who gets hurt today?

No Matter What, This Is The End: regardless of the result, I'll be a little bit sad to have the football season end. Without getting into the shameful details, let's say that I spend, ahem, a lot of my spare leisure time with official NFL content. A LOT. NFL is my favorite entertainment product, hands down. Ugh. I'll miss it -- especially the Eagles press conferences over the web and the various NFL internet information sources. Sigh. Almost time to start prepping for the draft!

Oh Yeah, the Game: I think 7.5 points is too much. Not that I don't think that the Patriots aren't a GREAT team. They're totally sweet. I get that. But 7.5 points implies a solid beating, and the Patriots don't administer solid beatings UNLESS THE OTHER TEAM TURNS THE BALL OVER. The Eagles make a habit of taking good care of the ball, starting with McNabb (the only QB to throw for more than 30 TDs and fewer than 10 INTs). The Eagles are a well-prepared team that doesn't make many mistakes (save for penalties from time to time). I don't think they'll beat themselves. (Though it's worth checking out TMQ's theory about how the Patriots haven't been flagged for offensive holding or defensive pass interference in their past FOUR AFC playoff games. Very interesting.)

Still, you don't win the Super Bowl by not making mistakes. You have to attack and play to win. I think the Eagles will play to win. I think they're hungry. Will it be enough? Here's what I think matters:

Corey Dillon With Something To Prove: I don't care about all this nonsense about the Eagles needing to stop the run, blah blah blah. Of course they need to stop the run. You always need to stop the run. But Corey Dillon is scary for the Eagles because of all the dudes on the Patriots, NO ONE has more to prove than Corey Dillon. No one. There's a chance that he comes out and plays like an absolute lunatic, and works out the frustrations of all those years with the Bengals at the Eagles' expense. And that's frightening, 'cause he's a gifted player. Angry gifted players = scary. Especially when they can keep the ball away from your team for 10 minutes at a time.

McNabb With Even More To Prove: if anyone has more to prove than Dillon, it's #5. As described above, this is a guy who's put up with a LOT of crap. A lot more than Tom Brady has ever put up with (or Peyton Manning, or Chad Pennington, or Mike Vick, or Daunte Culpepper, etc). I think he comes out angry and focused. I think he runs when needs to -- and even when he doesn't need to -- in order to keep those Patriots LBs honest. You roll him around, get him moving, and suddenly the Patriots' "systems" start to collapse. The game, the whole thing, is really about #5. I think he's ready.

Tee Oh: right, so the folks who think that the Patriots corners will be able to rough TO up at the line are completely deluded. Bum wheel or not, Owens goes 6'3", 225, and is completely cut. The guy is insanely strong. Randall Gay is 5'11", 186; Asante Samuel is 5'10", 185. I don't see them pushing even a gimpy TO around. I just don't think TO will run very well. I see him with 4 catches for 45 yards and a TD. He'll make a difference in the game, though he won't have the stats. (TO also has something to prove.)

The Eagles Defense: someone needs to tell me why there isn't more talk about the Eagles defense? Over the second half of the season, this is the best this franchise's defense has played since 1992. They're scheming the right way, the personnel mix is perfect, everyone is healthy, and they're playing with tons of confidence. Also, the EAGLES TACKLE VERY WELL AS A TEAM. This makes a difference. Honestly, I never in my life expected that the Eagles would win the Super Bowl with offense. Never. I always just assumed that if they won, they'd do it with their defense. I think the D has a big game today. I think they overcommit to Corey Dillon, and trust their corners to keep a handle on those smurfy Patriots receivers. And I think they'll get to Brady. I think this is Miami redux for Brady. The Pats will score, but I don't think their offense will dominate. I just don't. This is a hot Eagles defense, and hot defenses can win Super Bowls.

The Score: guess who I'm picking! I dunno. I just have a Jay Trotter-at-the-end-of-Let-It-Ride sort of vibe about the whole thing. I see the Birds winning a semi-close, well-played game. I think the Birds can coax some turnovers out of the Patriots. I think they'll give up some yards to Dillon, and that Brady will have a decent game. But I think McNabb will find another gear in the third quarter and the Birds' D will clamp down. McNabb will be all over the field, as will the pacy Brian Westbrook. I think the Eagles win 27-23. McNabb is your MVP. And he'll cry.

ENJOY THE GAME!

It's worth noting that if the Eagles lose, I'll be forced to eat a lot of my words, on this very site. Luckily, they won't lose. So I'll be fine.

Posted by thatkid at 3:16 PM | Comments (0)

February 4, 2005

Et Tu, Slimming Black?

In which I bicker with a journalist regarding Andy Reid's wardrobe

Ugh. So I got into it the other night with the dude who writes the "Uni Watch" column on ESPN's Page 2 (Paul Lukas, formerly of Slate and the Village Voice). He wrote up a Super Bowl uniform preview, itemizing each element of the Eagles' and Pats' uniforms and predicting an Eagles victory based on their superior battle togs. (He contends that history demonstrates that the team with the better uniforms wins the Super Bowl more often than not.)

I certainly took no issue with his endorsement of the Birds' uniforms. With the possible exception of the white shirt-green pant look (assuming of course that the black shirt-white pant combo doesn't even merit mention), I think the Birds' current uniforms are pretty cool. Though I may miss the silver pants of yesteryear, the kelly green had run its course; the midnight green is excellent, and the helmets are better than they've ever been (and the Eagle-wing design is pretty venerable as far as helmet designs go). Given that the Eagles will be wearing green on Sunday (the NFC representative is the home team this year), I think the Birds' unis will more than repruhzent.

Though I agreed with his overall assessment of the Eagles' sartorial superiority, I found a huge hole in his paragraph on the teams' respective coaches. Sure, he gave us a few sentences on Belichick's hoody chic look (which is phenomenal), but then neglected to make mention of Andy Reid's signature sideline style. I speak, of course, of SLIMMING BLACK. That is, despite whatever the rest of the Eagles' assistent coaches might be wearing on the sideline (and they'll sport khakis, white golf shirts, etc etc -- the NFL stipulates that the head coach wear slightly different costumes than the assistants), Andy Reid is always clad in some combination of black. Since he isn't a Johnny Cash kind of guy, I've long thought it safe to assume that his choice of color was more about, ahem, managing his appearance/ waistline on TV. It's an optical illusion -- he just blends in! Thus, the beginning of each Eagles telecast is marked by the proclamation (usually from my big mouth): "And there's Andy Reid, as always, in slimming black."

So I e-mailed Mr. Lukas, told him he'd missed a chance to point this out, and congratulated him on his column -- I'd been a reader for a while, and have long enjoyed his attention to the minutiae of sports garb. He's the best (maybe only) guy going, and he always has plenty of photos linked to his columns. Great stuff, just a shame he didn't pick up on Coach Reid's sartorial tendencies.

He wrote me back almost immediately, with a "nuh-uh" and a link to a shot of Andy Reid allegedly NOT in black. (He also said that Andy Reid wore a Hawaiian shirt in the Pro Bowl, but we agreed that didn't count.) So I click on the link. Right. I didn't get it. I wrote him back and asked if he meant the hat (I wasn't counting hats, as Andy's head isn't what needs slimming). He replies: "No, the shirt -- it's green! Dark green, yes, but still green!!!!!"

I'll give him dark gray. I will. I'll even give a dark gray with a hint of a greenish tint. But I wasn't feeling green. And I'm still not. Click the link, tell me if I'm crazy. (I might be, just by virtue of having this argument with a stranger; file under "That's another story.") Also, the argument in re: the tinting doesn't discount the larger point, which is that Andy Reid always hides in very dark colors -- typically slimming black -- on the sidelines.

Still, kudos to Paul Lukas for arguing with a crackpot (and having data to back it up!) after midnight on a school night. (We concluded our conversation by agreeing to shake our heads in disdain regarding the inconsitencies of the Birds' pant stipes over the past few seasons.) Power of the internet, yadda yadda. And here's to seeing Coach Reid prowling the sidelines tomorrow night in, as always, slimming black (NOT dark green, and I'll give you some heavy odds on that).

Posted by thatkid at 11:45 AM | Comments (0)

February 3, 2005

Today The Poltroon Was Hungry

In which an ill-mannered classmate defies all conventional standards of polite behavior

Right. So I know I should be more mature and/ or unbothered by the classroom conduct of my fellow students. This is my last semester of grad school, we'll all adults, and a certain degree of professionalism governs most interactions in the classroom environment. I shouldn't be complaining about other students; I just shouldn't.

(But I will.)

I dropped an episode involving a fellow student (the "poltroon") a couple weeks back. Since then, I will admit that I've taken particular note of said poltroon's classroom behavior. We've had three classes since then. The poltroon has been no fewer than 8 minutes late for each of those classes. It would be one thing if this was a gigantic lecture hall, but no, this is a small seminar classroom with about 15 students (which is excellent, by the way). Thus, it doesn't go unnoticed when, say, some idiot strolls in 10 minutes late strapped into a backpack of Schneppian proportions, coffee in hand, bumps 4 or 5 people as she ambles to her seat, plops down, produces her computer, ratchets out her ethernet cable, powers up said computer (with attendant Windows XP opening titles and jingle), and then starts tapping away.

That's been the routine the past three classes. I was on the fence about reporting back about it; I mean, it was annoying, but not so annoying as to necessitate putting pen to paper. (Or whatever it is I do.) If you want to be late, I usually don't care. Just come in quietly, sit near the door, and demonstrate a level of self-awareness that indicates you're at least making an effort not to disrupt class for those of us who choose to show up on time. No biggie. She's pretty clumsy about her lateness, but still -- it was a minor offense at worst. I just didn't think anyone else would find her rudeness to be terribly compelling.

Today was compelling.

About an hour into the class, the professor gave us a five-minute break as he fished out the next set of handouts and got his slides together on the screen. Most folks stepped out for a bathroom run or a quick glance at a public computer, and were seated when the class reconvened. But no, not the poltroon. The poltroon walked in a full 18 minutes later (I checked the clock, just to be sure), carrying a large white plastic sack from the deli. She got herself breakfast! And not just a bagel or a piece of fruit! Bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwich, orange juice -- the works! Unreal! And she just chomped away for the remaining eight minutes of the class. Eight minutes! She couldn't have just waited eight minutes to eat!

For a school that turns away literally thousands of students every year, I can't understand how one like this slips through the cracks. How does it happen? I ask you again, admissions officers, WHO AMONG YOU IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS??? WHO???

Other than that, the class was really engaging today.

Posted by thatkid at 4:05 PM | Comments (0)

February 1, 2005

The Story of the Film So Far

In which I write a guest column on snikes.com!

The following appears today, February 1, 2005 on snikes.com as part of a large-scale content and services sharing agreement between our respective firms; further details on the deal will be available shortly.

Among the many leading indicators of my increasingly unhealthful obsession with the Philadelphia Eagles (a.k.a My Most Favorite Entertainment Property or Brand) is the fact that I am currently 2-for-2 for the week in viewing ESPN2's Cold Pizza and, perhaps even more distressingly, I have actually found myself agreeing with commentator/ blathermonkey Skip Bayless. Though I am a loyal ESPN consumer, I've long eschewed Cold Pizza as the sort of crap that even I'm above; it reeks of ESPN's ill-fated attempts to broaden its audience by co-opting traditionally successful program formats (Beg, Borrow, and Deal, we're looking in your direction), in this case, the network morning show. More importantly, I had long since assigned Skip Bayless to the "enemies" column in my list of TV blathermonkeys (also in said column, Merril Hoge, Cris Collinsworth, and Peter King), since it seemed he'd been on crusade to slander the good name of Eagles wideout Terrell Owens.

But not this week. This week, Cold Pizza and Skip Bayless are my friends. Not only do I get fresh Eagles TV content from at 8 am each morning to complement my internet consumption, but erstwhile enemy Skip Bayless actually thinks the Birds can win!

(Guess what! I think the Eagles can win too!)

You might know an Eagles fan. You might not. These people (we) have a problem. I have a problem. I can't explain this problem (that's for another time; mostly it's too nuanced, and ties into the city of Philadelphia's inferiority complex in re: the rest of the Northeast Corridor), but I can at least give you a vocabulary to understand it. Should you encounter a Birds' fan at your Super Bowl party on Sunday, here are some quick tips for sounding fluent in the past 20 years of Birds history:

(1) 610 WIP: so you know how you sometimes hear how sports-talk radio is a really crass and abrasive format, peopled mainly by blowhards and lunatics from the fringe of society who are just looking for a soapbox to rechannel their frustrations? Right. So that's how it works in 99 percent of America. And then, in Philly, you have WIP, which is just like all the others, only about 600 times worse. Nobody -- not the hosts, not the callers -- is particularly knowledgeable about what they're discussing. Shouting is the preferred mode of conversation. It's insanely repetitive (six out of ten calls begin with "That last caller stole my thunder"), and yet it's also insanely popular and influential. The former mayor (and current governor) was a regular caller. They've organized large-scale rallies. And they hold a competitive eating contest every year (see below) that draws nearly 20,000 spectators. And it doesn't make anyone any less psychotic about the Birds. They talk about football, a lot, in MARCH. I mean, I'd use the word "demagoguery" if they weren't just talking about a football team; I don't know if that makes it better or worse.

(2) Legendary Coach #1: Dick Vermeil: though he quit coaching the Eagles over 20 years ago and never actually WON the Super Bowl, this dude's face is STILL on billboards in Philly. STILL. Something to do with bringing a winner back to Philly after decades of futility or something. And he cried a lot (the press called it "wearing his heart on his sleeve"). I'd like to pretend that I would have thought that he was a sissy for all the crying if I was sentient at the time (I was like five). I really would. But I know I would have eaten it up like everyone else, due to the fact that HE GOT THE EAGLES TO THE SUPER BOWL.

(3) "For who; for what?": after short-arming a pass (that means he was going to catch the ball but decided against it cause he was afraid) in the 1995 season opener, the recently (and expensively) acquired RB Ricky Watters asked reporters, "For who; for what?" in the post-game press conference. Right. This did NOT go over well. It crystallized for everyone that Birds fans -- though they might get pissed off if you lose -- fundamentally want to know that at least you tried. Half-assing it, even once, earns you scorn. Forever. We want you to prove that you're willing to suffer too. If I saw Ricky Watters TOMORROW, "For who; for what" would be the first thing out of my mouth. This is also why Todd Pinkston could catch 3 TDs on Sunday and still get shipped out of town in a month.

(4) Names that make us cringe: want to make an Eagles supporter spit up their cheesesteak? Drop any of these three names on them and see how they react. Feel free to do so in the context of sentences like, "Gee, that (player/ top-ten draft pick/ coach) was really a great (idea/ decision/ leader) for you guys!" Said names are: Antone, Mamula, Kotite. Try it. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised!

(5) Legendary Coach #2: there was no better coaching fit in the history of professional sports than Buddy Ryan and the Eagles. I repeat: there was no better coaching fit in the history of professional sports than Buddy Ryan and the Eagles. Buddy's "philosophy" was that he'd spend all of his time, effort, and money on his defense (the candy-ass offense was free to do as it pleased), and would try to win games by physically abusing the other team. SEE: body bag game against Washington, Monday night game in Houston, and reports that he put bounties -- actual dollars -- on opposing players. Even when the Eagles didn't win, you could count on them to hurt someone. His face isn't on billboards, but it should be -- the guy is still the stuff of legends in that town (though he's been all but blackballed by the league, owing in no small part to him physically assaulting a fellow assistant coach in Houston). And rightfully so: no one tapped into the bloodlust underlying Philly's passion for football like Buddy. I hope they gave him a Super Bowl ticket. I really do.

(6) The Vet: right, so most football fans with some knowledge of NFL arcana can spin you some yarns about Veterans' Stadium, former home of the Eagles and Phillies: they had a judge at the stadium for Eagles home games, they called off a preseason game in 2001 because the field was in such terrible condition, it was infested with rats, the fans cheered Michael Irvin's career-ending injury, blah blah blah. Sure, it's all true. And don't think for a moment that every Eagles fan didn't absolutely delight and revel in the ugliness of that building and its inhabitants. If anything, the 700 level (home of the rowdiest fans) might have been a little too impressed by its own myth. But whatever. Opposing teams and fans were scared of the Vet. And we freakin loved it.

(7) Wing Bowl: only in Philadelphia can you have a competitive eating contest at 6 am and have 18,000 people show up. I speak, of course, of the Wing Bowl. Go ahead, click on the link. Go on. Don't be shy. This is the 13th edition of the Wing Bowl, traditionally held the Friday before the Super Bowl. They hold it at the Wachovia Center (where the Sixers and Flyers play). The folks at WIP started it, but now it's grown into something much bigger. And much scarier. They even have a separate competition for "wingettes" -- and official odds (for amusement only) if you're into that sort of thing.

And other things you can bring up to seem like you understand the Eagles: Ray Rhodes comparing a home loss to "having someone break into your house and rape your family"; Randall Cunningham wearing two different colored shoes during a game; Randall Cunningham wearing a t-shirt that said "Dangerously Committed"; "That Guy In France" Vs. "Prince Jeffrey"; Andre "Dirty" Waters; the virtues of kelly green vs. midnight green; that the 1991 Eagles defense was among the best ever.

Like I said, I think the Eagles can win too.

ThatKidInTheCorner was thrilled to have a guest column on snikes.com this week, just so he could tell more people about how the Eagles are going to win the Super Bowl. ThatKid sporadically blogs about non-Eagles-related topics at www.thatkidinthecorner.com. You can e-mail him at thatkid@thatkidinthecorner.com. "Fly Eagles Fly" is his ringtone.

Posted by thatkid at 9:46 PM | Comments (0)