WTF – Infomercials

For the last in my series of television related rants, I have chosen to unleash my oft abated fury on the infomercial.  It is not to say that I have a problem with infomercials, as they are a necessary evil and allow struggling affiliates and cable networks to reap the benefits off-peak-hours advertising.  However, as they say, the devil is in the details. 

  And who doesn't like an infomercial anyway?  Their cheesy hosts, the compensated studio audience, and the beautiful myriad of gadgets you can't possibly survive without ... until five minutes after the program is over.   They’re an American institution, and an oft marginalized beacon of Capitalism.  They bring the magic of the flea market hard sell to the boob tube.

Some of our best inventions have come to us by way of the infomercial.  What could be more iconic than the Chia Pet, the George Foreman Grill, or the Ronco Food Dehydrator.  Nothing says love like spreading muddy seeds on a clay base with a poorly glazed sheep's head.  Who wouldn’t like to “knock the fat”, out of an otherwise juicy and delicious hamburger?  And where would we all be without delicious fruit roll-ups made from strawberry jam, the all natural nutrition and pure goodness of dried fruit, or the lumberjack convenience of homemade beef jerky.

That's right, hold the phone, you can make jerky at home.  Could life be any better?

But wait, you're depressed with no direction in life?  Shucks, nothing a little Tony Robbins can't fix.  Top notch motivational speaking from a guy who looks like the girlfriend stealing douche from every 80’s movie.  Nice DeLorean asshole…

Thanks but no thanks, I’ll deal with my inner demons on my own.  For now, I’ll try to poison the little fucker’s with a steady stream of Jack Daniels and Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburgers.  Which is good segue to…

Fat?

No worries my tubby friend.  Drop your French fry and jump on Tony Little's Gazelle. 

True story time… I almost met an untimely death losing control of one of these fuckers sitting on the back patio of my parents house.  Do not, if you value your life the slightest bit, get on a Gazelle.

Better yet, hit up Chuck Norris' Total Gym. 

Speaking of Chuck Norris… (better fire up the JRTW Rimshot Monkey™ for this one)…

 

I hear that Chuck Norris is so strong, Volkswagens lift him to prove their strength.

I hear Chuck Norris is so tough, he shits sideways.

Hmm... one more...

Every time Chuck Norris ejaculates, a third world country suffers a natural disaster.

Thank you! Don’t forget to tip your waitress…I’ll be here all week…try the veal.

I'm sure I could go on for hours about the Chuck and/or the pseudo-benefits of the gadgetry of years past.  But this is not about then, this is about now.

And what do we get for our hard earned American dollar these days?

First, there's the ShamWow.  A magic little towel that holds 4 billion times it's own weight in water.  I recently read in Popular Mechanics that this little towel does in fact work as intended.  In their tests it sucked the cola right out of the carpet, and without the clever edit we see in the commercials.  From what I could tell they liked it, but felt is was better to dab than to rub, as it had a rough texture to it.

Little. Yellow. Different. Better.

My problem lies not with the product.  My problem lies with the former Tilt-a-Whirl operator they've now hired to hock this thing county fair style, Vince Offer (born Offer Shlomi).  With his best Sammy Davis Jr. impression, this lazy-eyed psycho is at best the meth-addled incarnation of Billy Mays and at worst... well, himself.  Although I guess now we know that Billy Mays was himself meth-addled, so it's kind of a moot point.

Fun Fact! - Coroners used OxyClean to sanitize the autopsy table after his death.

But I digress, apparently no one on set has ever heard of a boom mic so Schlomi here has to use a first generation Bluetooth headset to communicate with us.  Secondly, sweet merciful Jesus what is with that eye?  Thirdly I don't give a rat's ass what Olympic divers use to dry themselves off with, I only care about when and where they hit their heads and if they're HIV positive or not.  I'm looking at you Louganis!

And now Mr. Offer has moved to the Slap Chop.  The little gadget with the ninja name.  If I had a little person in my employ, I'd seriously dress him up in a dogi and call him Slap Chop.  I'd pay him to jump out at my guests at random intervals like a tiny Bruce Lee.

The Slap Chop is endearing in it's ability to whip up tiny mounds of pico de gallo faster than you ever thought possible.  It slices and dices, and chops onions WITH the skin on mind you! I haven't been able to chop up anything with the skin on since that incident with the Vegas stripper summer of 03.  FYI, it is true, what happens in Vegas, stays in the Glad ForceFlex bag behind the dumpster at CVS. 

What's better is the whole kit'n'caboodle opens up butterfly style for easy cleaning.  Somehow...sadly… also like the incident with the Vegas stripper.  Moving on.

So we sit there having our ears unapologetically raped by "Vince", to the point of ordering the damn thing in the hopes it will shut him up.  But no, it won't.  You’ll just cry yourself to sleep eating ice cream, like every other night… only this time with freshly chopped nuts.

Moving on....

It used to be the campy things in infomercials that I liked. The cheeseball audience, the ridiculous testimonials that were nothing short of poorly staged, it all had a very silly feel that made them ever so slightly funny.

Now I can't say really when it happened, but somewhere along the line infomercials discovered this as well.  So now they're playing to the cheese.  Deliberate cheese! Forced cheese, like an Easy Cheese enema. 

Now I'm all for camp. I dig it. It butters my bread. But intentional campiness is like Christian metal, it simply cannot exist.  If you're doing it on purpose, it's not camp.  If you're rocking about the lord, well my friend, you're simply not rocking at all.  And if you are truly rocking, you don't pimp a genre.

I recently saw an infomercial that didn't even have it's own paid audience. Instead it had a pre-recorded studio audience edited in.  That is something so inconceivably  artificial that I can't even begin to wrap my brain around it.  And what's worse, is was some infomercial audience from 20 years ago, with clear delineation in audio/video quality.  Deliberate cheese.

There used to be a few big names... Ron Popeil, Jack Lalane, Anthony Robinson.  Now every douche bag with a British accent need only latch on to the first fly by night time saver to make it big in the infomercial world.  I miss the good ol’ days when we'd simply light the hood of a car on fire and wipe our concerns away.  What do we get now, a thousand bucks courtesy of the "Magic Jack" stimulus package.  Personally, I'm only a few certified Obama silver dollars short of insanity.

Before long, we'll see infomercials re-enacting infomercials using clips of other infomercials.  We’ll be fed and re-fed parts of infomercials we’ve already seen come and go, a mishmash of digested parts, like those which inevitably led to mad cow disease.  But instead of it causing insanity in cows, it will lobotomize the brains of countless at home drones, waiting with open-wallets and empty closets, longing to be filled with regurgitated junk.

 

I don't mind crap products marketed to my weakened, inattentive mind in the middle of the night, with the crass authority one can only attain with high volume and a cockney accent.  But put some Goddamn effort into it!  I like my useless programming with some production value, even if it's a bunch of useless big dick pills being hocked by Ron Jeremy himself. 

And that's that.  TV, you're officially off the hook for awhile.

That’ll do Hedgehog…. that’ll do.

Coming to Syfy: 'Sharktopus!' (pics) -- The Live Feed | THR

Coming to Syfy: 'Sharktopus!' (pics) -- The Live Feed | THR

At first I was taken aback a bit, what with finally coming to terms with the fact that the Liger is an actual animal.

Couple that with the existence of dragons, and it's alot to comprehend in a days work.

And the BAM! The fuckin' Sharktopus, coming soon to SyFy. Better warm up Adobe After Effects, it's going to be a long night.

Check this bitch out!

Sharktopus = no bones... all balls™ (please make out all royalty checks to JRTW).

Half shark, half octopus, it's Sharktopus!

Yes!: RC Millennium Falcon Becomes Reality - Geekologie

Yes!: RC Millennium Falcon Becomes Reality - Geekologie

Finally, been waiting 33 years for a place to store my Han Solo and Chewbacca figurines.

That is, besides up George Lucas' ass for botching the prequels.

Treasure trail...

All things considered, there's a time to re-think posting suggestive images on the Internet. While that time has yet to come for me, it still makes checking the comments on my blog from work a bit more dangerous than it would usually be.

So, in everyone's best interest, allow me to post a random series of safe-for-work images, if only to strategically push more objectionable content lower on the page.

In other news, I didn't miss much over the last few months in regards to Sarah Palin. Fortunately for me, she's been hammering nails in her own coffin while I've been away, saving me the trouble of proofreading my stream of thought regarding the extent to which she personifies everything that's wrong with the GOP.

Of course, that doesn't mean she won't get hers, I just need to throw something together.


Getting ready for Valentine's Day, which means a whole lot of nothing balloons and candy wise. But Valentine's Day does resurrect some fond memories, allow me to elaborate.

Crystal and I began dating right around Valentine's day 8 years ago. I remember it like it were yesterday plus 8 years.

I had been in El Paso that night at the Olive Garden having dinner with Terry, Sarah, her roommates and a few other friends for her birthday (I think it's on February 15th, but don't hold me to that).

Once we had finished dinner, I returned to Las Cruces and met up with some co-workers from Peter Piper Pizza who were throwing a party that night as well. From that point forward... well, that's for another time.

Also, on Valentines Day 2008, Crystal found out she was pregnant with a very tiny Caitlyn. Which was a damned good coincidence since we named her Caitlyn anyway. Here we are, an amazing two years later.

This weekend I'll be playing a chamber orchestra concert at the Rio Grande theater. We're performing Mozart's 40th Symphony, and the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. The 40th was Mozart's second to last symphony and one of, if not, his most well known. The Mendelssohn Concerto is amazing, and harder than it sounds. Feel free to click on the links for a taste via YouTube.

Tonight it's dinner with the folks and catching the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics. I'll try not to get killed hurling myself off of the luge track, but no guarantees (these HDTV's make you feel like you're really there). Tomorrow I'll be in rehearsals during the day and out for dinner and a show at night. Sunday brings a violin lesson to teach and a concert in the afternoon.

Stay tuned for something a little more humorous and less life-updatey over the weekend.

Ok, I think this should suffice, cute pictures wise.

Time to wrap things up here.

Forgive any errors for the remainder of the day, I'll correct shit when I'm home and able (done, I think). The spacing on my posts when I send them through here ends up all screwy in the final product.

Watch Zombieland if you haven't already, great fuckin' movie.

Peace.

Love.

Rainbows and Unicorns.

Jimmy

P.S. USA! USA!

Also, that whole dying on the luge thing... tragic. I'm not sure in whose book lining the track with roof support beams seems like a good idea, but it's not mine.

Todd and the Bulge

So as it were:

Basically, uploaded the completed shot, only to have it removed.

Yet another reason to manage a blog. Nobody censoring my poorly chopped homoerotic photo here!

You really must love the internet. The last bastion of true freedom!

So without adieu, Todd and the Bulge.

A Week in the Life - Day 2 – Movin’ on up.

Today marked yet another milestone in the JRTW reboot, as I physically moved the computer to a more prevalent location.

Basically, everything was located in the bedroom. It seemed like a good idea at the time, since it kept me close by the bed. But I came to the quick realization that my late night shenanigans were quite the distraction for Caitlyn. It didn’t seem possible, but it turns out she’s more of a computer junkie than I am. I can’t count on all 21 of my digits the number of times she’s shoved me out of the way en route to the desktop and/or laptop. She’s equally handy (deadly) with a mouse. And while this chokes me up with nerdy pride, the habit doesn’t lend itself to a good night’s sleep… for any of us.

And so it came to be, that more often than not I would find myself sitting in the living room, watching TV or playing with Caitlyn, until bedtime came rolling around. As the official crapshoot of parenthood, bedtime yields mixed results. Some nights bedtime is quick and painless,and others nights are best described as un-sanctioned MMA bouts. Nothing strains the heart strings like having to choke out at 15 month old child, but all the same… it’s cheaper than pay-per-view.

Moving on. So there I am, waiting for the little one to go off to sleep, at which point I now have the remainder of the evening to myself. This golden opportunity leaves me with roughly an hour online to ration out as I see fit. Most nights, I’m simply catching up on emails, social networking, and the like. Occasionally, there’s the funny video or a quick level or two of a flash based game. And rarely there’s a tempting pseudo-login to World of Warcraft (*sniff*). Of course, a night would not be complete without a visit from our old friend… porn.

But JRTW sat there and waited patiently. Every day I’d come home with every intention of working on the blog. But motivation gave way to routine, and routine was quick to inform me that by the time I would have the opportunity to post, I'd have neither the time nor the consciousness necessary.

Now, the comp rests peacefully in the living room, in plain sight and eager to augment my reality. I must say, it feels pretty damn good.

As always, more to come.

Jimmy

It's time.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away... I disappeared.

While unfortunate at the time it was necessary. Life simply wasn't permitting me the time or energy to devote myself to writing. As with life in general, one situation after another presented itself before me, longing for priority and solution. Coupled with a general lack of inspiration, the only realistic solution for me was to remove myself temporarily from a life that dictated I be online 3 hours a day.

I could rattle off the reasons why, but they're not your concern, nor are they so ominous as to require mention outside of this sentence. But as things have settled in to a groove, or as close to a groove I'll let them, the time has come to reapply myself here.

I truly love this time I have, with my words and my friends, and have spent time lost finding new and glorious topics yearning for that sarcastic brand of cynicism I'm only more than happy to provide. Between late night wars, Obama's first year, Glenn Beck, underwear bombs and our old friend swine flu, there's a lot of work ahead.

So a quick recap, the little one is now one year and 3 months old. What can I say? Of course I'm a bit biased, but being her father has been the most wonderful experience of my life. It's a difficult thing to comprehend if you haven't experienced it, but there's something awe inspiring about it. Every day there's a spark in her eye, and the next thing you know she's saying or doing something you never believed possible at that age. It's really quite amazing.

Work is finally settling down. The last quarter of 2009 proved to be very busy, but I've made some changes which will ensure the 2010 goes a whole lot smoother. The result should be less stress and less mental exhaustion after work. Music is music, still always playing. I enjoyed a bit of a break for the last two weeks of January, but otherwise I was booked pretty solid from Thanksgiving forward. Now we're back into the swing of things with concerts this weekend and next with the LCSO.

So there you are.

As for JRTW, expect a little more fucking profanity. I find myself all too often over analyzing the audience I'm writing for, and it has a habit of derailing my train of thought. So no more of that shit, what comes out is what you get. Certain ideas can only be truly expressed with the added panache only rampant swearing can provide. It's an art form, damn it! If you don't like it, let me know and maybe I'll insert a motherf*cking asterisk or two, if you're good. If I inadvertently hurt your feelings, please watch the video to be cheered up.

If that doesn't work... I can't help you.

Almost there…

It’s coming, really.  Been re-adapting, new comp, fresh Win 7 install, the works.  But believe it, it’s coming.

Good morning!

Ahh, nothing like being jarred from your peaceful slumber by a crying baby. It's ok though, as it made a whole lot of sense to arrive to work early today. As you can see below the server which generates payroll was down all of last week. The result? 10 days work of backed up time cards and a whole shitpile of work for yours truly.

Still, it does present a unique opportunity. Overtime!

So, wish me luck as I tackle the beast. And no, I don't mean Jennifer Love Hewitt.

More to come.

Snowballing......

It is what it is, the rare morning post.

As fortune (good or bad) may have it, the servers that enable me to do my day to day job underwent patching over the last weekend. As such they have yet to come back online correctly. So what does this mean? It means I have a small chunk of free time with which to converse about the topic.

What is also means is this: I'm going to have a shit ton of work to do once everything comes back online.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm pretty much an expert on letting work pile up on me and then knocking it out of the park. But this is getting somewhat ridiculous. Usually at most I'm looking at two to three days of work I may have to catch up on in any given week. This is normal, as by default I'm always working on records from the day before. Likewise, since I don't work on weekends, on Monday's I'm always facing down Friday's and Saturday's workload. This I'm prepared for. Even three days work isn't too bad, on the rare occasion that I take a three day weekend.

But by the time everything gets corrected, there's a high probability that I'll be a week behind or worse.

Not fun by any means. But hey, it'll keep me on task right?

So in the meantime, good morning! How are you? I'm great!

More to come,

Jimmy