Monday, July 31, 2006

Scoff and You Scoff Alone

Those who know me know that I have a long and storied history of making fun of things. I agonized about what word to use in place of "things", but I could not come up with a word with enough totality. It isn't just movies like Miami Vice (do you know what is meant by foreboding? It means badness that is going on right now), or television shoes like Blind Justice (in which we had to be constantly reminded that the protagonist was, indeed, blind). My venom can reach from pop culture to current affairs to consumer goods. Most recently, I've been savaging the new Gillette Fusion with it's 5 blades on the front and 1 on the back. This is familiar territory for me, as I made snarky comments about the Mach3 Turbo and M3Power, both of which I bought later. This is the biggest problem with my outsized mouth--it very often has to eat its words. Some people would be embarrassed to be seen using a product that they very recently called "idiotic" and "a waste", but I am a shameless hypocrite who is a sucker for a close shave.

The crux of my complaints (I am speaking only of razors now, not gay marriage amendments or Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas) is that consumers get hoodwinked into using new razors when there is nothing appreciably wrong with their current ones. Is there really a subset of American men who were yearning for more aloe strips on their blade? We seem to be getting more blades without really understanding if we needs them. As was reported (somewhat cheekily) in the best magazine in the world the curve for blades is following something of a parabolic curve and at the end of the decade we should be looking at ten blades. Some might recall an old SNL sketch that lampooned what I've dubbed "blade proliferation" with dozens of razors rotating on a fan and cutting up Tim Meadows's face (I think it was TM, but it could have been Anchorman). We are laughably close to such a reality. Before I would have sneered at these developments and thought I was being duped. But I am a convert to the Church of Latter Day Razors. Bring 'em on. I've used the new Fusion and it is a much closer shave than I've ever had, as I always knew but was loath to admit. If that day should come where they've added so many blades to the device that I'll have to yank a chain to start the damned thing, I will do some tricep stretches and let it rip like a lawnmower.

You should buy this razor, even if you feel like an idiot when you do. Don't worry, I was one of you once--the swarthy, unenlightened masses. Now I have seen the light, and those glorious extra blades gleam in it.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The views of this blog do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator

There's only one thing that truly unites mankind -- the objectification of womankind.

Stephen Colbert's satire knows no bounds, but it does know how to make me laugh and not want to tell anyone why I'm laughing at the risk of sounding like a sexist. People don't give you money or invite you to their ski chalets if they believe you to be a sexist. They also don't introduce you to attractive women if they have reason to think you're a gentleman of ill repute, or worse, a cad of the first order.

Then again, guys who use phrases like "gentleman of ill repute" and "cad" don't meet many attractive women anyway. With good reason.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

This Week with George Stephanoindianapolis

I am an avid watcher of "This Week" on ABC every Sunday morning. It's one of the many things that my father did while I was growing up that have now become a part of my routine--a reflex I feel every week. Sometimes George brings out the big guns, usually when the world is falling apart: George Will (a regular), Cokie Roberts (silliest first name in news), Fareed Zakaria (my favorite political writer) and Sam Donaldson (a face that defies explanation). The reason I love it so much is that it feeds my desire to know what's going on while avoiding shrill screaming. Also, I harbor some long-standing illusion that Fareed Zakaria and I will become friends one day and discuss global affairs and the best recipe for cooking ducks, or whatever Fareed Zakaria does in his limited free time. Erudite without being snobbish, the panel of This Week makes me glad to live in a country that still has intelligent debate.

Monday, July 10, 2006

The Summer Continues

Despite my best efforts to read blogs all day and eat free food at work, I am actually learning a great deal about banking this summer. For one, bankers all seem to use a four in hand knot in their ties, which makes sense because it is the most popular tie knot and because the windsor knot is the "mark of a cad" according to James Bond. I make it something of a rule to not contradict Bond, except in very specific claims like where he believes that homosexuals cannot whistle. I can't really understand that one. I also learned that most people with full time jobs spend their time in training sessions to learn about their job or in feedback meetings with their bosses. Presumably their bosses are evaluating them on their skill in a training seminar, but I'm just an intern--what do I know?

We also talk about football a lot, especially since I started work the week the World Cup started. Most bankers are big on the World Cup it seems (purely anecdotal evidence) which makes sense as high income Americans are more likely to follow football. Is that because they are smarter or bigger snobs? I could argue it's a combination of both. I have been in sporadic contact with my former roommates who got me into football, and they are probably as shocked as I was to see Zidane head butted Materazzi. Normally so classy, we saw an ugly side of the Frenchman who had a chance to lead his team and his country to a second World Cup, but he was hijacked by his emotions. Of course, I can't fully understand his state of mind, but in such an important game I would have hoped for more poise from Zidane. I am, of course, happy for Italy at large and Fabio Grosso in particular, because I saw some footage of him playing for Inter a few months ago and just liked him. Del Pierro as well--richly deserved.

Here's hoping for a smooth second half of my internship, and many more free meals to come.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Wit: The Last Refuge of the Scoundrel

Yesterday after work I met my friend Carolyn at some new coffee shop in the village, Think. Carolyn told me that it had opened while I was in London, which explained how I missed it, because as it is on Mercer Street, I would have walked past it every day. It's a really chill place, a judgement I base on the fact that I ordered precisely one espresso and bullshat with Carolyn for about 3 hours. I have to try their cappuccino sometime, obviously before 11 AM (nobody with any sense drinks cappuccino after 11 AM, it's positively declasse). To give you an idea about what kind of place it is, I glanced around when I walked in and counted about 8 Powerbook laptops. Yeah, that kind of place.

Carolyn and I hadn't spoken since I left for London, so we obviously had a lot to catch up on. I did what I do, which is prevent real conversation from happening by constantly employing double entendres, absurdism, bitingsarcasm, and just general hilarious diversions. Carolyn (in between fits of convulsive laughter I would add) reminded me of something I told her once: I am uncomfortable when talking for more than 60 seconds without making a joke. I had to admit, she had me dead to rights. I tend to throw jokes into quite serious situations. They're not all homeruns, but it's something of a tic I have. I get called a smart-ass a lot, and have been told that my jokes "don't stop" and that is usually followed by "why, in the name of all that is holy and right on God's green earth, won't they stop?" Carolyn, and many other people I know, have told me that this is a defense mechanism I use to hide myself and to create some kind of distance from people because I have a crippling fear of abandonment. I have no idea where people get it from. If ONLY I had a fear of abandonment, it would add some flavor to my otherwise charmed life. I firmly believe that what keeps me from a career in comedy is that I've had nothing sad ever happen to me. That and I'm not very funny. I remember reading an interview with my comedy hero Stephen Colbert, who I've been a fan since I saw Strangers With Candy in like 1999, where he talks about his father and two older brothers die in a plane crash when he was 10. He said that a sense of humour is developed when someone loses their sense of innocence. I probably intentionally gave mine up rather than "lost" it. My parents are still married, my sister and I get along, I'm upper middle class and have never had any serious health problems. I go to a private university that costs more annually than a new luxury car or new kidney. With no real darkness, how can I create comedy? By making asinine observations about people around me.

I think my need to make jokes constantly stems more out of my desire to make people feel comfortable than to get people to like me. In fact, my humour is largely self-deprecating because it puts people at ease more than my more acerbic style of comedy where I cut people down like Paul Bunyon cuts down trees. Was Paul Bunyon a lumberjack? Or even real? I have always disliked confrontation and tried to make everyone feel easy all the time. Luckily, it hasn't been at the expense of people walking all over me yet. But as I wander through this post that is not so much a coherent thought as a safari through my subconscious, I feel it is important to clear up a point: I don't make jokes so that people like me. I do it because it makes them feel comfortable, it's fun and it keeps my mind occupied while you talk, because to be frank you're quite boring.

I'm not sad, but sometimes I'd be happer if I was.