eHarmony Just Managed to Put Out Its Creepiest Ad Yet
A tall order for a company that used its founder, an awkward soft-spoken old white man with what can politely be termed “anti-charisma,” as its pitchman.
Unfortunately, they haven’t uploaded it yet, so I have to describe it to you. But trust me, none of this is exaggerated.
We start on a couple. The guy, in a tuxedo, is pulling a girl in a red cocktail dress into a hotel room. They start getting hot and heavy.
"I’ve been looking at you all night," says the Bro to the Betty.
We then cut to what appears to be a wedding party. They propose a toast - but where is the couple of honor?
Cut to the bedroom. The people we just saw trying to toast? Well, they all ran upstairs, en masse, and burst into the bedroom. They see the happy couple, which we learn through on-screen graphics have been together for over ten years, dry-humping.
The guy giving the toast says “happy anniversary” and everyone laughs. But doesn’t leave.
So basically this asshole couple threw a party for themselves for their ten-year anniversary and made formal wear a requisite. Then, like the selfish bastards they are, they cut out early on the party they made their friends dress up for.
The friends respond by saying “hey, let’s go burst into the room and watch them FUCK.”
I do not recommend running in the UWS Riverside Park. For one, the pavement’s poorly kept; I must have stumbled at least ten times during the course of a three mile run, and I’m not THAT clumsy. And, unfortunately, the off-pavement terrain is largely uneven, so that’s not much of an option. The proximity to the West Side Highway (noxious fumes) doesn’t help either.
As a result of that and fucking around with my stride unnecessarily, my calves kinda hurt.
TL;DR - I RAN TODAY EVERYBODY FUCKING CONGRATULATE ME
These are actually pretty racist questions to ask because they imply that you’d be more willing to support them if it wasn’t about race. Even if you personally didn’t think it was about race, if you had some other explanation, you could still support the people in this community and perhaps we can all learn something.
The governor insists he and the Boss are cool, and on a first-name basis.
I want you to actually watch this video.
This is how you lose arguments: by being snarky like the person in this video while also being completely wrong. It’s that snide arrogance that explodes into embarrassment when it’s coupled with deliberate misinformation or outright, aggressive ignorance.
Just another example of how NPR liberalism has KILLED progressive politics.
“We stepped outside so Keegan and Leah could smoke American Spirits, and they told me that their goal is to promote the individual becoming truly themselves outside of defined boundaries. The actor was wearing a pork pie hat and an Indian scarf; his girlfriend was adorned in a white silk kimono.”— Shyam Dodge and Shanrah Wakefield for Vice: ONE OF THE STARS OF ‘10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU’ STARTED A RELIGION
Actually, we know a LOT. Like how the kid’s hands were up, he was shot six times, he didn’t have a gun, one of the bullets was on the underside of his arm (confirming every single eyewitness who said the poor kid’s hands were up)…
Honestly, what the fuck else do you need? How many more fucking kids gotta get straight up murdered before you’ll admit a cop did something wrong?
A friend of mine brought up a great point about Giuliani and others asking people, re: the press, to “respect” their “privacy” in the wake of Giuliani’s daughter getting arrested for shoplifting.
The friend in question (I won’t attribute directly here since he didn’t share it publicly) noted that it was a Hell of a thing for Giuliani to request, since my friend and so many others in this city never got any privacy leaving their homes, because the moment they stepped out of his house and put on a hoodie, he and so many others “fit the description” according to the “stop and frisk” policy Giuliani mandated.
But please, respect THIS family’s privacy, even though every other criminal in this city is named in a newspaper…because the Giulianis are rich, powerful, and most of all, white.
Also, I love that we never attribute a decrease in crime to things like our natural evolution as a society, small gains in equal rights, and a shifting awareness of the world around us. Nah dude it was giving cops carte blanche to harass, cajole, and occasionally shoot black and Hispanic kids in the fucking face for no reason.
The Songs I Hear at Walgreens: "North Side Gal" by J.D. McPherson
SONG: “North Side Gal” ARTIST: J.D. McPherson RELEASE DATE: 2012 ITEMS PURCHASED: Oxford notebook, Papermate Inkjoy Quatro (one of those four color pens)
What do you make of all this, dear reader?
I’ll tell you this much: I was digging it when I heard it in the store. I thought it’d been a legit rockabilly song from a bygone era. Lo and behold, SHAZAM informs me that it’s some dude named J.D. McPherson with a thrillbilly haircut but none of the tattoos.
I assumed at first that Shazam had misidentified the song. Then I started hearing the phrase “North Side Gal” being growled during the chorus. I got home, did some research, and wouldn’t you know it – the song was recorded in 2012 by a white man.
It sounds so authentic, though! Well, that’s because according to an NPR piece on McPherson from 2012, he went so far as to use an old 60s reel to reel and other production tricks to replicate the sound of legendary recordings like those heard from Decca and Sun Studio. In other words, replicating that tinny, lo-fi sound of long ago.
Do I admire or abhor this pretense? Honestly, I don’t know. I sort of dug it when I thought it was authentic, but my first reaction when I confirmed it was a white dude from Oklahoma was “man, fuck THIS guy.” It seemed almost unfair. McPherson, I’m certain, is convinced he’s paying homage to the likes of Little Richard and Fats Domino (both of whom he name-checks in the NPR piece I mentioned earlier). Yet one can’t help but wonder if this sound, which was stolen from the black community and sold wholesale by white America in the late 1950s and early 1960s, doesn’t just re-open an old wound.
I mean with everything going on right now, the question’s gotta be asked. I’m not trying to hold this dude’s feet to the fire. The problem’s bigger than a guy who ran away from punk rock because he convinced himself that his Okie lineage made the whole thing sound inauthentic, just so he could start imitating black rockers from 1950s. Unfortunately, while acknowledged in passing, the author of the piece does not even approach this strange double standard, let alone address it directly to the artist. Though he himself might not argue for authenticity, just that what he’s doing now feels more real to him.
But it does raise the question: what the fuck do you want to be, man?
I knew a comedian from the 518 (the area in and around Albany, NY) who used to close his act by saying “and now, a little homage to one of my inspirations - Mitch.” Then he’d put on sunglasses and literally do Mitch Hedberg’s jokes. Yes, he just called him Mitch, and yes, that is a humongous problem if people in the crowd have no idea who Mitch Hedberg was. The first time I saw him do this, I was fucking appalled. I wasn’t the only one. From what I’d discerned, several other comedians had confronted him (politely) to suggest that what he’s doing might not be the coolest or most professional thing for a comedian to do. The comedian’s argument was that he was keeping Mitch’s spirit alive, as if one of the most influential and outside-the-box comedians in history needed some dude performing “charity shows” and open mics in a very confined radius of Upstate New York to get the word out.
The thing is, he believed it. Delusion’s a Hell of a thing. It’ll convince you that what you’re doing is right, even if you’re basically doing all the things that they say you should never, ever do. Not because it’s “breaking the rules, MAN” and they want you to conform, but because, artistically speaking, it’s kind of shitty and vile. Even if you think otherwise.
I try to keep my own delusions in check, particularly when it comes to my material…which has SUCKED ever since I started. The hardest thing about stand-up for me recently has been the realization that I’ve been doing it all wrong. It’s created a massive blockage that’s prevented me from writing anything of substance. I worry I may never write a joke in that format again, and it’s paralyzing. Vicious cycle and all that.
It doesn’t help that I don’t want to be a J.D. McPherson. Again, no offense to that dude. What he does sounds – on its own – very, very fucking cool. But I don’t want to ever be compared to anyone else that’s done it before. I’ll readily acknowledge seeing the type of comedians that made me want to get up on a stage – Richard Pryor, David Cross, Bob Odenkirk, Paul F. Tompkins, Janeane Garofalo, Chris Rock, Louie Anderson, Jim Gaffigan, George Carlin – fuck, man, Carlin! That was the big one for me. I saw him and knew I wanted to do that one day, if only I could muster the courage. But I don’t ever want to sound like I’m trying to ape any of those guys. I don’t want anyone to ever, ever say “that sounds like a [insert comedian] joke,” even if they’re just an audience member and they intend and think of it as a compliment.
So that creates even more fear and anxiety in me, another roadblock that I put in front of myself so I can move back, get a strong running start, and crash right into the goddamn thing.
Maybe, instead, I should stop overanalyzing everything to death, just go up there and “do me” as the kids say.
Alright, jokes. Start writing yourselves.
And no, reader, we will not be using “read more” tags. Go fuck a Doctor Who GIF.
It’s 12:36am and I went without any coffee today because I slept past noon and didn’t feel like I deserved any.
I started laundry fifteen minutes ago.
I tell you this because, heads up, that shit ain’t getting put away, okay? So if God forbid something happens and they find me dead tomorrow,…
UPDATE: I folded the clothes and put them away. So if that does happen, the cops will instead say “Looked like the type of guy who put away his clothes after they were dried. Took care of business. A real goddamn shame, Lieutenant.”
It’s 12:36am and I went without any coffee today because I slept past noon and didn’t feel like I deserved any.
I started laundry fifteen minutes ago.
I tell you this because, heads up, that shit ain’t getting put away, okay? So if God forbid something happens and they find me dead tomorrow, don’t let the police say in the report that I had let things go and didn’t put my laundry away. I was going to first thing in the morning, before…whatever it is that’ll happen (I’m guessing a comet crashes into my bedroom).
They were a popular 90’s band. They had the singer who played the harmonicas. Well they are still out there making music and fans still go to see them. Kudos to them for making it work all these years.
Felony gun possession (illegal possession of military grade guns) is a rising issue in America among gang communities which outnumber the amount of gangs in Europe by the hundreds. There is a reason out country uses such forceful and dangerous weapons as a means for defense. Please be as informed as you look.
“Tonight I finished the third draft of a a project I’ve been working on forever. Then I bought a pint of ice cream. This probably isn’t what Faulkner and Hemingway did when they hit a milestone but fuck those guys.”—
As you can see from the video above, Phil Collins was the King of Corny Shit You Should Be Embarrassed to Like during the 1980s.
First rising to prominence as part of the group Genesis, Collins graduated from the poor man’s Eagles to become a poor man’s Don Henley. In addition to his abuse of synth and choppy songwriting (a staple of white singer-songwriters in the early 1980s), Collins is also notable for his appearance at Live Aid in 1985. The concert was the wealthy elite’s attempt to “save” Africa by throwing money at it while also belittling an entire continent of diverse cultures and nation-states by lumping them all together into one homogenous zone. You know, Africa. Where all the Africans are starving or something.
Live Aid was so huge that not one but two humongous outdoor arenas housed it: Wembley Stadium in London and JFK Stadium in the Philadelphia. Collins was either so passionate about “Africa” or his ego was so huge it couldn’t be contained within the confines of one outdoor stadium, so after performing in Wembley, he hopped on a Concrode jet and crossed the Atlantic to do a second set in JFK Stadium. People were like “whoa, Phil Collins flew on a private jet!” This was impressive because to people in the 1980s, the only things that mattered were wealth, excess, power, and status.
The video for “Missed Again” exemplifies everything that’s bad about Phil Collins. On its own, “Missed Again” is a bad song: it’s a poorly constructed, over-produced mess. This is in stark contrast to the minimalist video, which simply shows Collins miming every instrument on the track. This was, after all, Collins main claim to fame as a musician: he was a multi-instrumentalist, playing nearly every goddamn thing you hear on his awful, terrible records.
Some would say it’s what makes him great. Others, like myself, see that as a symptom of the sort of self-assured micro-management that throttles creativity until it sputters out lines like “you can feel it all around you, but it’s something you just can’t touch” under the wail of an unnecessary saxophone.
Only one artist I’ve ever known could play so many instruments on a record and still put out great stuff, and his name is Paul McCartney. Phil Collins, you ain’t no Paul McCartney. Fuck, you’re not even a Ray Manzarek. Get out of here with all that corny-ass mugging.
But who am I to talk? Lately I’ve been aimless. I have six or seven different ideas for projects but nothing to show for them yet. But on the bright side, I met with someone earlier today who wanted to tell his story, of sorts, of living in a certain neighborhood in New York. It’ll be a five minute deal, most likely released online. If anything comes of it I’ll share it here. The important thing is that I have a mandate from someone, or something, to work. It helps. It’s a direction, which is something I’ve sorely needed during this unemployed haze I’ve been operating in.
Better things to come. Certainly better than Phil Collins. And if you’re one of those people that likes Phil Collins, and I’m counting some very nice folk I consider close friends, fuck you for liking Phil Collins. Stop it. It’s not “ironic”/funny and it never was. It’s just awful.
To catch you up: apparently, Blues Traveler’s John Popper - he who bloweth the harmonica with such ferocity - tracks mentions of his name on twitter and elsewhere on the internet. Not just his handle, mind you, but any and all mentions of “John Popper” or “Blues Traveler.”
He’ll probably reply to this post with a drawing of a dick or something.
Anyway, after seeing this phenomena play out a couple times on my timeline, I made the above joke/photoshops.
And then, like a prophecy fulfilled, he arrived.
Like a teenaged boy on a message board, he kicked down the doors of our public discussion to talk about his dick and porn and other shit.
But I had a plan.
He took the bait. See, I was luring him in for the 1-2 punch.
It needs to be said: the people of #Ferguson are heroes.
I’m not trying to spin a positive out of this at all. There aren’t any positives to be found within this tragedy. The autopsy results are worse than we thought. That kid, once someone’s baby, still his mother’s child, was gunned down execution style in broad daylight.
All in the front. He didn’t even run.
Again, I can’t and won’t try to couch this as “but at least.” I’m a cynic at heart, despite my best intentions.
Yet I feel like we should all give it up for the people of Ferguson. They saw Michael Brown murdered. They witnessed it, first-hand. And what did they do? They stood up and they said this is wrong, and we’re not leaving until something is done.
They didn’t run away. I mean that literally, not figuratively. Because within moments of Brown’s death, people had already mobilized in the area where he was slain. And days later, they’re still standing against a hail of rubber bullets, tear gas, and the antagonism of a strong, oppressive force that operates with seeming impunity.
Who knows what the physical toll is. It’s hard enough to get any sort of consistent reporting on the ground, let alone get accurate info. But we do know this: goddamnit, the people of Ferguson have no fucking fear or concern for their own safety. They’re real fucking heroes.
I realize that in writing that, it could be dismissed as overreactionary, proto-revolutionary sentimentality. But I say it as a pragmatist, because I put myself in those shoes, and as much as we all romanticize about staring down the barrel and responding with “fuck you,” how many of us actually would? How many wouldn’t turn and flee?
Ferguson didn’t. Must be something in that water that makes them better Americans than me and you and probably everyone the both of us know.
So in the midst of all this chaos and heartbreak, I just want to say that out loud. And I hope history looks back on this moment and says this awful thing happened, but also notes that these people took a stand.
I don’t believe in any God, but if I did, I’d tell him to bless Ferguson before any other city in America.
3. Stop saying “This can’t be happening in America.”
I understand the impulse, I really do. But that impulse only comes to those who are insulated and isolated from how America treats poor people and people of color every day. Langston Hughes wrote “America never was America to me” in 1935. If you didn’t quite understand that poem in your junior high or high-school lit classes, read it again, while you think about what’s happening in Ferguson. Let it sink in.
If you live in an urban environment, you’re in a position to bear witness and document inappropriate and abusive police behavior. If you see an African-American neighbor being detained by police, wait to see what happens. Get your phone out. Download the ACLU’s “Police Tape” app, and if you see something that looks off, take a video that will upload directly to their servers, in case your phone is confiscated. Whatever police may tell you, this is your legal right.
7. Educate yourself about the systematic inequality that leads to civil unrest.
The St. Louis American ran a powerful editorial today that fleshes out the history of Ferguson. When you finish reading that, go somewhere quiet for a bit and settle down with Ta-Nehisi Coates’s “The Case for Reparations.” Don’t stop there.
If you don’t have any African-American friends, you might want to think about why that is.
10. Okay, go ahead and tweet.
And Facebook. Tumblr. Instagram. Vine. Amplify the voices of people on the ground, and help counteract the damaging narratives being propagated by some mainstream media organizations. It’s the very least we can do.
For white people wanting to know what they can do to help.