Center for Obviousness Study: “Daily Show” funny, focused on politics

From Huffington Post:

NEW YORK — A journalism think tank studying “The Daily Show” doesn’t believe many people get their news from Jon Stewart _ because otherwise they wouldn’t get the jokes.

The Project for Excellence in Journalism also said it was surprised at how much the Comedy Central late-night program resembles “The O’Reilly Factor,” “Hardball” and other cable news shows in content.

The Washington-based organization asked its researchers to study a year’s worth of “The Daily Show” tapes _ hardly a grim assignment _ after hearing the frequent claim that many young people learn about the world from Stewart instead of more traditional news sources.

Tom Rosenstiel, the project’s director, said he doubts this is the case. He considers “The Daily Show” more of a political satire in the tradition of newspapermen like Art Buchwald, H.L. Mencken and Russell Baker.

“They’re not making jokes about Dan Quayle is dumb or Gerald Ford is clumsy,” he said. “They’re not making jokes that you could get if you live in the country but don’t read the news … . You can’t get the jokes if you’re not watching the news. The jokes are designed to make you think more about the news.”

Speaking from experience, never doubt a journalist’s ability to waste time. Seriously, they studied a year’s worth of Daily Show and came to the conclusion that the show is a satire of the news. Exactly how far was it into the year that they came to that conclusion? I’m guessing mid-March.

The Huffington Post put this article up under the headline “‘Daily Show’ Very Similar to ‘O’Reilly Factor,’” which admittedly piqued my interest. And how, exactly, are they similar?

Politics, government and the Bush administration’s policies in Iraq accounted for about half of the show’s content, making it quite similar to the focus of serious cable news shows, the study said.

Quite the observation: the content of a satirical news program resembles that of actual news programs. Excuse me while I collect the bits of my mind that have blown out the back of my head.

I did learn something from reading about this study, though: Apparently, The O’Reilly Factor is a “serious” cable news show. Who knew?

“You like saying Gore-Tex, don’t you?”

Received this nugget of information in my In Box today:

Hi Matthew,

I thought you and your readers would like to help us congratulate James Peters, a Thousand Oaks, CA, resident who recently won the ‘GORE-TEX® Footwear Diamond in the Rough’ contest by finding a hidden GORE-TEX® brand logo in Ventura, CA.

James Peters will receive $500 in GORE-TEX® gear for his next vacation.

…

W.L. GORE & ASSOCIATES NAMES FIRST WINNERS IN ‘GORE-TEX® FOOTWEAR DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH’ CONTEST

– Game Pieces Found in New York and California; Contest Continues in International Destinations —

Elkton, MD – April 30, 2008 – W.L. Gore & Associates, a leading manufacturer of advanced technology products including the GORE-TEX® brand, today announced that two hidden GORE-TEX® brand game pieces have been found in Ithaca, New York and Ventura, California, within one week after the launch of the ‘GORE-TEX® Footwear Diamond in the Rough’ contest. The ‘GORE-TEX® Footwear Diamond in the Rough’ contest challenges U.S. travelers to uncover a hidden GORE-TEX® brand game piece in eight of the 10 destinations selected as Top 10 GORE-TEX® Footwear Summer Travel Destinations for 2008. Each winner will receive $500 in GORE-TEX® gear.

…

Ventura, California

On April 18, 2008, avid rock climber, James Peters, learned about the ‘GORE-TEX® Footwear Diamond in the Rough’ contest and decided that he would make the trip to Ventura, CA to join in the fun. Peters traveled 30 miles from Thousand Oaks, CA and found the hidden game piece at Ventura Visitors and Convention Bureau.

“I am an avid and frequent traveler, so when I learned about the ‘GORE-TEX® Footwear Diamond in the Rough Contest, I could not resist making the trip to Ventura. Not only did I find the game piece, but I was able to enjoy the charming downtown and the cool coastal weather of this Southern California beach town. I am very excited to be the winner for California and I am eager to get and use some new GORE-TEX® gear,” commented James Peters.

First off, I like the insinuation that this “avid rock climber” made some sort of daring trek — possibly across a jagged, unforgiving landscape, fighting off giant scorpions and dysentery — from Thousand Oaks to Ventura in order to win this prize. And I especially enjoyed his “comment” on “the cool coastal weather of this Southern California beach town.” C’mon, did he really say that? As if this guy who lives in 20 minutes away just happened to stumble upon some quaint oceanside oasis in his quest for free GORE-TEX. This is why I chose not to go into the PR wing of journalism, even though all my self-loathing college professors insisted that’s where all the money is.

And am I the only person who thought GORE-TEX was something Seinfeld made up?

Don Cavalli, “Cryland” (2008, Everloving, A)

Frenchman Don Cavalli’s earlier work was little more than a decent genre exercise: retro rockabilly performed with enough authenticity to trick people into believing he was not only recording in the 1950s but that he was born in a bog somewhere in the southern United States. Good, but nothing a million other artists obsessed with American roots music around the world weren’t already doing. Cryland, however, is something else entirely. It remains hogtied to the blues, but spackled with minimalist funk, garage rock, Cajun and even dub influences, with the constant churn of a wah-wah pedal bubbling underneath. Cavalli performed to a small but highly appreciative crowd of mostly uninitiated folks at the Mercury Lounge in Goleta this past weekend. He hasn’t quite gotten the hype in this country yet — the album has been out in France for a year; it was just released stateside last week — but with a few more tours he should reach at least a level of cult status. I mean, how can you deny the awesomeness this video:

“I’m Going to a River”

Barack O-Balla

Dishin’ dimes to the nation’s underprivileged, d’in up America’s enemies, drainin’ jump shots on the economy…

Google Me

Just as your pulse begins to slow from watching that documentary on fonts, along comes a film about a subject nearly as thrilling: search engines. Google Me — which sounds like either the title of a terrible romantic comedy or the lamest setup for a porno ever — follows Jim Killeen, a struggling 38-year-old actor originally from Detroit, as he meets other people with the same name he discovered by typing “Jim Killeen” into that famous search bar. These include a swinger from Denver, a retired New York cop, an Irish priest and an Australian corporate exec (and, judging by this picture, “Jim Killeen” might be the whitest name on earth).

The film will premiere tomorrow on YouTube, the DVD hitting shelves with surely meteoric force on Tuesday. According to this profile in the Washington Post, what the director discovered from this odyssey “was not a better way to be a Jim Killeen, but an inspiring (if “Breakfast Club”-y) truth about being human. Says Killeen: “People are fundamentally good. They will invite you over to their houses. They will meet you halfway.” OK, that’s nice to hear, since I don’t know if too many people would want to see a movie where the ultimate conclusion is, “Y’know, humans are kind of assholish.” But this quote, about what triggered the journey, makes me question if the teddy bear-like Killeen went into this project with a heart too big for these cynical times:

“I wanted them to be doing well in life,” he says. “I wanted them to succeed. They were members of a very special club.”

Obviously, Mr. Killeen lacks a basic understanding of the digital age. Yes, it has made the world smaller. Yes, it has made it possible to connect with people we may have never known previously. Before the Internet, mankind was comfortable hurtling through space, each individual occupying his or her own solipsist universe, satisfied with the fact that, as far as most of us know, there is no one else out there like us. Now, though, with the single click of a mouse, all of us can come to the crushing realization that we are not as unique as we used to believe. We are, in the words of Tyler Durden, “the same decaying organic matter as everything else.” And we’re being ranked by robots.

As amiable as they may appear in person, these other Jim Killeens are not Jim Killeen’s friends. They are his opponents in the game of life. That Post article acknowledges that Google is a universal status symbol; it is the only measuring stick we have which stretches across cultural boundaries to prove who is truly worthy of the air they’re breathing. Myself, I am currently the third greatest “Matthew Singer” on the planet, behind a Duke University grad student whose published works include The 2002 Presidential and Parliamentary Elections in Bolivia and Trends in Opinion Research in New Democracies: Professionalization and Quality Control? and a guy who worked as a crew member on the set of Empty Nest (the situation with my informal name, Matt, is more disheartening: I went through 14 pages of search results and I have yet to show up). If the Dukie and the production staffer showed up on my doorstep unannounced one day, I probably wouldn’t invite them in for dinner — the Panamanian electoral system and Richard Mulligan aren’t exactly my ideas of scintillating subjects of conversation — but I would definitely be cordial. That doesn’t mean I’m not viewing them as competition — and hoping, secretly, that they aren’t doing well, or at least doing mediocre, because nothing shoots you up the Google ladder more than a headline-grabbing flameout (of course, considering that one of the superior Matthew Singers apparently hasn’t worked since the late ’80s is still seeded higher than me makes me wonder what the hell I have to do to overtake this guy). I don’t think this makes me a bad person, though it sadly might make me a virtual yuppie social climber. But that’s how it is these days: It’s an increasingly crowded world with diminishing wiggle room. You either jockey for position with vigor, or get banished to the Invisible Web.

Of course, Jim Killeen probably knows this. After all, what better way to become Google’s top Jim Killeen than making a movie about Google?

Can we get that stuffonmycat.com documentary now, please?

I Left My Beige Pleated Cotton Khakis in San Francisco

Should I be embarrassed that this Dockers commercial makes me want to move to San Francisco?

Punchline 9/11

From politico.com:

The conflict in Iraq may go on for years, but it appears the end is nigh for Hollywood’s ponderous, heavy-handed treatment of the war on terror. That’s because most new movies about the subject this season are lowbrow and cringe-inducing comedies.

Over the next few weeks, theaters will be screening far-out fare such as an Osama bin Laden documentary by the maker of “Super Size Me”; an absurdist slam against merchants of war featuring John Cusack; a zombie soldier flick with XXX star Jenna Jameson; a stoner movie about Guantanamo Bay; and a Sept. 11 parody — yes, parody — made by Uwe Boll, a little-known filmmaker often ridiculed as the worst director in Hollywood since Ed Wood.

I am indifferent about Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay and Zombie Strippers (though the former is doing well on Rotten Tomatoes and the latter earned the approval of one of my most trusted filmic resources, Jordan Hoffman). Where In the World is Osama Bin Laden? sounds decent on paper, but then it involves Morgan Spurlock, whose projects always tend to be pretty ham-fisted and obvious. And War, Inc. has potential to be great. But Uwe Boll’s Postal? Now there’s something to sink your teeth into. Certainly the director of Alone in the Dark, BloodRayne and In the Name of the King possesses the deft cinematic touch needed to satirize a subject that remains an open wound on the American psyche:

On second thought, does anybody know about 800,000 people who’d like to sign a petition?

An abortion of an art project.

From Yale Daily News:

Art major Aliza Shvarts ‘08 wants to make a statement.

Beginning next Tuesday, Shvarts will be displaying her senior art project, a documentation of a nine-month process during which she artificially inseminated herself “as often as possible” while periodically taking abortifacient drugs to induce miscarriages. Her exhibition will feature video recordings of these forced miscarriages as well as preserved collections of the blood from the process.

My uterus hurts just reading about this. And I don’t even have one.

But I’m not necessarily against this “project” in and of itself, however. When artists choose to do “shocking” things such as this — or place a crucifix in a jar of urine , or create a portrait of the Virgin Mary using elephant crap — I don’t get into the whole “is this art” debate. It’s a fruitless endeavor. In my opinion, the definition of “art” is in the eye of the beholder — meaning that, yes, literally anything can be considered art if someone says it is. The question is never, “Is this art?” It should always be, “Is this good art?”

In this particular case, my answer is: No, it is not good art. And it is not good art because the artist has failed in what she set out to accomplish. She implicates her failure in this quote:

“I hope it inspires some sort of discourse,” Shvarts said. “Sure, some people will be upset with the message and will not agree with it, but it’s not the intention of the piece to scandalize anyone.”

Judging by the discussions I’ve seen on a few message boards and a conversation I just had with a friend of mine, all this piece has succeeded in doing is scandalizing people. Observers aren’t talking about what her supposed “message” is; they are only discussing the shocking nature of the project itself. I’m sure once I get home and turn on the cable news networks, there is not going to be any dialogue about the relationship between art and the human body, as she wanted — the pundits are going to focus solely on the “is this art” question. Thus, Ms. Shvarts’ project is a failure.

Now, if she had admitted that causing a kind of surface-level controversy was part of the concept, then the project could be considered some measure of a success. But then, shocking for the sake of being shocking is an empty pursuit, anyway, and the piece would still suck.

BTW, I hate when artists give that coy “I didn’t mean to shock people” line when something is so obviously going to shock people. It’s not the message that’s upsetting, either: It’s the fact that you’re giving yourself a miscarriage.

Record Store Day

Tomorrow is Record Store Day, an event “with the purpose of celebrating the culture and unique place that [independent record stores] occupy both in their local communities and nationally.” In other words, it is a last-ditch effort to save a dying industry. As a music fan, I am not particularly elated at the slow death of the record store, but I am not a Luddite either. I have long held the opinion that the technology that has come around in the last decade is only going to help music culture as a whole. So while it sucks to see so many businesses struggling and closing, it’s really up to these places to find a way to adapt rather than playing on the nostalgia and sentiment of what is quickly becoming a bygone era. Because honestly, the music is more important than the package it comes in.

That being said, some of the remaining record stores in Ventura County are participating, including Buffalo Records:

ONE DAY ONLY!
OUR BIGGEST SALE OF THE YEAR!

Saturday, APRIL 19, 2008 10am-8pm
used records & CDs
50% off all used records & CDs $2 and under
30% off all used records & CDs $2.01 - $9.99
15% off all used records & CDs $10 and over

Raffle:

1st prize: $100 Buffalo Records gift certificate
2nd prize: $25 Buffalo Records gift certificate
3rd prize: Buffalo Records t-shirt (any size/color)

1 raffle ticket per item purchased
no purchase necessary: 1 free ticket upon request

Plus: FREE STUFF with every music purchase!
sampler CDs & LPs and more!

And, of course, local institution Salzer’s Records (whose site is down right now for some reason — their MySpace is still up, though) is celebrating with a concert in its parking lot, featuring the bands of many of its employees. Courtesy of Reporter freelancer, Army of Freshmen frontman and sometime Salzer’s clerk Chris Jay:

As record stores prepare for a Tolkien worthy final stand against the combined forces of Wal Mart and digital stores, they’ll be a call to arms of sorts this Saturday for “Record Store Day”. Artists are doing signings and performances at record stores world wide and Salzer’s Records will be getting in on the celebration with a parking lot concert that features a strange twist- the show will only feature acts that are employed currently or have worked at Salzers in the past. Beyond just being one of the best single location independent music stores in the country, Salzers is just as beloved as long time bill payer for area musicians. Not many jobs let employees take time off for tours and recording and that charity alone is enough for celebration. The Fucking Wrath, I Was A Lover, Delorean Is A Dealer, Frank Barajas, Chris Bailey, City 17, Purely Miss, Get Gone, Lyrical Geniuses and most exciting of all, The Jim Salzer Experience come together to show their support to the life affirming experience of shopping at a real record store. Be there or good luck trying to have a heart to heart about your favorite artist with the clerk at itunes. Festivities kick off at 1pm this Saturday, April 19th.

Can’t wait to find out what the hell the “Jim Salzer Experience” is, myself.

No word on what Grady’s or American Pie (their Web site is also down) is planning, if anything, but either way, as local record stores, both deserve patronage on this of all days, right?

Miss Rap Supreme

As soon as VH1’s (White) Rapper Show — the greatest reality competition program in the history of cable television, next to, of course, The Assistant — ended last year, with doughy, possibly autistic Southerner $hamrock scoring a fraudulent victory over the perpetually dazed, preposterously self-aggrandizing “King of da ‘Burbz” John Brown, I have been waiting, hoping, praying for a second season. Alas, it never came.

But then, unbeknownst to me until literally the day of its premiere, VH1 began running ads for another show, produced by irreverent hip-hop magazine Ego Trip and hosted by former 3rd Base member MC Serch, the two forces behind (White) Rapper: Miss Rap Supreme. Swapping an all-Caucasian cast for 10 female contestants, living together in a house (or, in this case, a converted hotel in Downtown LA), competing in ridiculous rap-related challenges and vying for the title of — what else? — Miss Rap Supreme, it’s basically the same show, plus (or minus) more estrogen.

So why, in its first episode, does it appear to suck way worse?

It could be the comparative lack of engaging (read: laughably shameless) characters: In addition to $hamrock and John Brown, (White) Rapper had Jus Rhyme, the living embodiment of the phrase “white guilt”; Sullee, a Kevin Federline lookalike who quit the show when asked to write a rhyme against one of his teammates; and Persia who, among other things, brandished a pixelated dildo as a weapon and dropped the N-word during an argument, leading to her having to wear a giant “N-Word Chain” around her neck like a fake gold-plated scarlet letter. Of Miss Rap Supreme’s contestants, only two appear at all interesting and/or potentially hilarious: D.A.B., a recovering heroin addict and sexual abuse survivor; and Khia, who had a hit record out a few years back and for that reason has an ill-informed superiority complex even though, for some reason, she spit a hook (and misspells “respect”) during the elimination rap-off instead of a verse. And, frankly, there’s a little bit too much talent on this show. Outside of Persia, who had a legitimate flow but could never remember her lyrics, no one on (White) Rapper could actually rap, making the challenges — such as when the final three had to battle a bunch of underground emcees at a Detroit club — all the more entertaining. While I wouldn’t quite call anybody on Miss Rap Supreme “good,” the majority have some measurable skills, which, in the context of a hyper-ridiculous show like this, is kind of lame.

But, if I’m being honest, I have to admit the real reason why I feel Miss Rap Supreme doesn’t measure up to its predecessor: When it comes to reality shows, I’m a bit of a sexist. I have never been able to get into a program centered around females. Yeah, I watched both seasons of Flavor of Love and the first of Rock of Love, but that was almost entirely to see how much Flava Flav and Bret Michaels could embarrass themselves in the span of an hour; I couldn’t care less who they ended up with at the end. The Hills, The Bachelor — I don’t think I’ve seen a single episode. The progressive in me wants to believe my aversion to ovary-based reality TV is born from a subconscious refusal to dignify the negative portrayals of women on those shows — catty, shallow, prone to rip out each other’s weaves — with my viewership. But that would be a lie, because I seem to have no problem watching two chicks spit on each other, as long as its done in the name of winning the affection of a shriveled crackhead and/or a clandestinely balding, collagen-lipped rock star.

Is it true, then? Am I a pop-culture misogynist? If I had more time on my hands, I could probably concoct a rather reasonable argument for why women do not make as entertaining reality television fodder as men, sort of like how Christopher Hitchens scientifically proved that women aren’t funny. But then, that would leave me a lonely, alcoholic atheist, and I certainly don’t want that.