I Remain Unimpressed

Here’s the problem with political discussions: They make you look stupid in the eyes of whoever you’re talking to. Unless of course, you’re talking to someone who agrees with you, in which case you’re just jacking off.

That’s because people pick presidential candidates for complex reasons, very few of which they even understand, let alone are self-aware enough of to cogently relate to others when asked. And, truth be told, other people’s opinions reveal far more about themselves and their narrow-minded views of the world than they ever will about a particular chosen candidate.

Somehow, most political blabbermouths manage to realize that it just wouldn’t be cool to say: “I’m voting for McCain because I’ve spent so much time training myself to act like I’m over 50, that I can’t back away from the Republican party, no matter how hard I try.” Or, conversely: “I’m voting for Obama because I resent the rich, and in my relatively young life, Republicans have screwed up everything they’ve touched, given enough time.”

Instead, they’d rather parrot to you what their friends, favorite talking TV heads and radio-show mouths have told them, hoping that regurgitated tripe will taste like filet mignon, and convince you as easily as it did their own feeble, easily-swayed minds.

Ask yourself this: Have you ever been in a political discussion where one person suddenly says: “You know, I never thought of it that way, I’m changing my vote”? Assuming you’re not discussing the finer points of your irrationally chosen political party down at the student union coffeehouse, don’t hold your breath waiting for an affirmative.

That’s because if you’re an adult who finds yourself in a political discussion, its because the person you’re talking to showed up at your table spoiling for a fight, for the same reason any schoolyard bully wants you to fight: So they can bring you down to their level, where (let’s be honest here) they have far more practice.

Bottom line, voting is like choosing a spouse, a car or even a slice of carrot cake for desert. If you’re truly honest with yourself, you’ll admit you’re choosing for mostly emotional, left-brain reasons that are more complex than you realize. That doesn’t mean they’re not entirely valid to you, this being the existential world it is. But showing those reasons in a spittle-throwing blabbermouth display of what you think is intellectualism is a sucker bet. And you’ve probably fallen for it.

Honestly, you’re better off just enjoying the common interests you share with your erstwhile debate partner, having another beer or cup of coffee and then actually doing something far more politically effective to spite them on your own time, like working for or contributing to your chosen candidate behind their backs.

So please, save the crap you used to convince yourself to vote for one candidate or the other for someone in your own twisted little circle jerk.

I remain unimpressed.

Somebody actually built this, which was kinda the point.

Sure, everything was better when you were a kid, but when it comes to Thomas the Tank Engine, everything was better when my 9-year-old kid was a kid–which obviously wasn’t that long ago.

Yup, Thomas the Tank Engine is now computer-generated. If it weren’t bad enough that hand-drawn animation has gone the way of, well, hand-drawn animation, now the creators of what was once a decent little kid’s show have cheaped out, scrapped those cool old train tables and likely off-loaded the whole shebang to some second-world computer-animation house to save some money and otherwise suck all the fun out of it.

The old shows used real-life toy trains and elaborate sets, replicating the magic of a kid putting his head on the floor while playing with toy trains to become a part of that world. You could appreciate the inventiveness of it all (along with the clever/subversive narrator choices like Ringo Starr and George Carlin). The new version has all the magic of a bad videogame.

I can only conclude that the people making it have decided that we’re all too stupid to notice, so we can just sod off. Worse, Thomas the Marketing Engine makes boxcars full of money, so ditching the old, slow and more expensive production method smacks of nothing but pure corporate greed.

Watching the new versions, I can only feel cheap, used, considered-to-be-stupid and obviously marketed-to. What’s next? Plastic Thomas trains instead of wood?

Ah, crap, that’s already happened, too.

You guessed it–I remain unimpressed.

I’m not talking about morons who misuse the word to mean “figuratively,” or “metaphorically,” which is not just a little bit wrong, but pretty much every bit of wrong you can have, all rolled into one gi-normous ball (”His head literally exploded”). Nope, plenty of other eggheads have jumped on that bandwagon.

Instead, I’m talking about people who tack the “literally” onto the end of a sentence, as if to squeak with glee, “Look at how clever I am! I made a pun! Wheeee!” Examples: “Britney Spears Overexposed-Literally.” “Ready to Drive Mom Crazy, Literally.” And “Second Life Rocks (Literally).”

Aside from their obvious lack of agreement on how to properly punctuate their sentences, these would-be humorists are not just pointing out their own (fairly obvious, and obviously lame) attempts at cleverness. They’re also making a fundamental assumption that the rest of us are too freakin’ stupid to notice the pun without the person who just made it grabbing us by the hair and pointing us at it. Puh-leez.

Here’s the thing, idiots: 1. We noticed the pun before we got to the end of the sentence; 2. It’s nowhere near as clever as you think it is; 3. You’ve actually managed to irk us subconsciously; and 4. We just decided you’re a dope.

Know what would be clever? Since the word is so overused as to be meaningless, distracting and annoying (the trifecta!) consider using something better: “Britney Spears Overexposed–desperately” “Ready to Drive Mom Crazy–Clinically.” and “Second Life Rocks–Musically.” And sync up on the punctuation while you’re at it. Hmmm?

Better yet, spare us the childlike self-absorption of your shallow mind, drop the whole secondary-word thing completely and let the sentence stand on its own–without a lame crutch.

Until you do, I remain,

Unimpressed

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So Taco Bell has a new pitch: “Help feed the hungry.” That’s right, the marketing geniuses who gave you “Forthmeal” “I’m Full!” and the half-pound burrito now want to you to donate a dollar to “help feed four people” in some cry-baby Sally Strothers pitch every time you order up the same food assembed in various ways. Now, I’ve got nothing against feeding the hungry. It’s a noble cause, and I’ve always admired those who tilt at impossible-to-accomplish windmills.

No, what I do have something against is a company spending millions to convince already-fat humans that they need a fourthmeal between dinner and breakfast during which they should shove half-pound tubes of meat and slurried beans into their churro holes–telling ME that I need to help feed the hungry. Worse, all the geniuses at Taco Bell are doing is COLLECTING OTHER PEOPLE’S MONEY. What’s missing? TACO-Freakin-BELL’S MONEY, that’s what.

Worse, if you donate, you can get a free downloaded song from Mariah Carey’s new album. This is all helpfully displayed in a large sign on the counter, upon which the horrifying visage of Mariah stares out confusedly from indiscriminate shadows. In case you’re wondering, Mariah shills for Pepsi, the eponymous root of Pepsico, which owns Taco Bell.

So what is this, really? A desperate attempt to market Mariah’s new album in Taco Bells across the country, hitched to an otherwise noble cause that’s designed to make me forget I’m being marketed to with a cloud of guilt that comes when the waitron behind the counter is forced to ask every customer if they want to donate.

Want to impress me? Donate the money it took to make the ad campaign to feeding the hungry. And stop making me feel guilty for refusing to help you market some washed-up crooner to the masses on my nickel.

Until then? I remain unimpressed.