I am deadly serious. Let me explain:
The other day, while flipping between “Man Vs. Wild” and “Wrestle Mania 14,” my overly-muscular fingers shattered the remote and my television was stuck on MTV. Being unwilling to leave my exercise bike at the time, I was condemned to watch MTV’s current programing, which happened to be an episode of the reality show “The City.” 
“The City” is the bastard spawn of atrocities like “The Hills” and “Laguna Beach.” Like it’s heinous brethren, the ostensibly “documentary” show focuses on a mob of rich attractive 20-somethings trying to make it in the world (in this case New York City), helped greatly by the fact that they are D-List celebrities “struggling” through entirely fictitious, scripted situations.
This particular episode focused on the protagonist “going steady” with the tool-like object of her affection. However, the way in which she snagged this gem of a human being stood out to me as the biggest piece of other-gendered propaganda since Rosie the Riveter.
Faced with her man’s refusal to commit, the girl (Whitney) accepted a lunch date from a stranger (an ethnically-vague model hired by MTV with the emotional complexity of a pinecone). At dinner later that night with her would-be boyfriend, she announced upon her arrival that earlier she had awkwardly shared some bubble tea with another man. This prompted Prince Charming to enter a jealous fit, resulting in him avidly wooing her the next day with flowers, champagne and a heartfelt request to date exclusively. 
There is no font large enough the contain the “WTF” I wish to type in response to this scenario. The producers of this show need to realize that there is a nation of impressionable young girls out there, all eager to move to New York, spray on a tan and date a tooly musician. MTV is telling them that the way to land their dream man is to flirt with some other asshole and drive him insane with jealousy. This plan is almost as stupid as having sex in a horror movie, and similarly it will only lead to tragedy.
Other Genders, if you learn nothing else from OMFG, please retain this: THE WAY TO A MAN’S HEART IS NOT THROUGH HIS JEALOUSY. Men are biologically cursed with a powerful need to be the only one fucking whoever they’re fucking. It is beyond our control and often very inconvenient. If you take advantage of this trait, it will come back to haunt you. The threat of losing his exclusive lease on your vagina is definitely enough to scare a man into promising all kinds of things. However be warned, if you play this card, if you take advantage of his evolutionary handicap, he will hate you for it. You want to be loved out of admiration rather than fear, respect rather than paranoia.
You want to be loved as a man loves his family, with trust and tenderness, not as Liam Neeson in the new movie “Taken” loves HIS family, with anxiety and insane violent rage. As this film teaches us, if you force a man’s back against the wall, he will use his skills (penis) to go on a murderous (emotional) rampage through France (all your friends) leaving a bloody (tearful) trail of dead Albanians (promises and feelings) in his wake. Don’t let a stupid decision strain your relationship like I’ve strained this metaphor. Take it from OMFG and the Albanian body count:
Don’t play the jealousy card.
Zombies, baby
As opposed to baby zombies, which is just gross.
This month I’m work-shopping my next sketch comedy opus, which focuses on zombies and reality television, encompassing (in my opinion) the best and worst that society has to offer. It’s appearing next week as part of the “Vignettes for the Apocalypse” festival at the Gene Frankel Theatre.
Deets, schedule and ticket info are below:
Feb 12th thru Feb 22nd 2009
The EndTimes Underground
@ the Gene Frankel Theatre
24 Bond Street New York, NY 10012
The times are a little strange. My show is called “TMZ TV” and it’s the last show in GROUP 6
Admission $18 at the Door
$15 w/Student ID
All-access Festival Pass – $75
For tickets and times, click here.
iSuck
I will be the first to admit that I love my iphone more than any object I’ve ever owned, as well as the majority of my friends and family. Despite its massive leaps in convenience however, it does include one massive flaw: whenever my phone is processing data near a live receiver, it causes the speaker to emit a high-pitched staccato moan; an electronic series of beeps and blips that is somehow caused by the mere proximity of the phone, whether or not it is plugged in to anything.
A mysterious modern phenomenon to say the least. I can’t come close to understanding it, and I would like to dismiss it as the proverbial “Ghost in the Machine” if it weren’t so damned inconvenient. Whether I’m practicing with my band, running the sound booth for a show or just sitting by the phone at work, that irritating sound follows me wherever I go! It both terrifies and fascinates me.
Finally, last night, while watching the leaked 3rd installment of a certain popular horror movie franchise, it finally dawned on me what the sound is: it’s the Grudge, singing through T-Pain’s vocoder.
That’s right folks, when technology advances too quickly, as in the case of a phone with high-speed internet or a microphone THAT SINGS FOR YOU, an evil curse is born (FYI: Hip-Hop artist T-Pain has made his name using a vocoder that modulates his singing to be on pitch, a technique that is being rapidly adopted by tone-deaf rappers nationwide). Until we can learn to live within the limitations of tech and talent, the curse will live on, irritating all those it comes in contact with…to the point of madness.
My balls are like secret agents
I’ve been spending the winter months in blog-exile so far and I’m sure all four of you are devastated, but I am pleased to report something exciting enough to cause me to break my silence. I have recently acquired a pair of flannel-lined jeans and they have revolutionized my life. I’m not sure if the good word about flannel-lined jeans has spread beyond the Pacific Northwest yet; it’s certainly not something you would see on a fashion-conscious New Yorker. Be warned, this is not a hip choice of clothing. You run a good risk of looking like an overweight lumberjack, however make no mistake, flannel-lined jeans are absolutely incredible. Here’s why: I have yet to encounter a better way to wear pajamas in public. You see, flannel-lined jeans, like some divine hot-pocket, are soft and forgiving on the inside, while remaining all-business on the outside. The fact the your loins are girded in warm checkered goodness remains a secret shared only by you and your balls. It’s such a delightfully subversive way to stay cozy I can barely stand it.
My affection thus expressed, I return to blog-exile.
Flannel-lined jeans. Spread the word.
I am not nearly sick enough for this sick, sick world
So I wrote this play about Zombies and Reality TV, combining that putrid and terrifying sign of the apocalypse with my love of the undead. It’s a short parody of several popular TV shows, re-imagined in a zombie-filled universe where humanity survives by sheer force of narcissism. The show is called “TMZ TV” (which will probably get me sued by the noble organization of the same name) and is part of Madair Production’s Project Playwright IV, appearing this week at the Access Theatre in New York City. It features briefs scenes with titles like “American Zombie,” “Top Zombie” and “So You Think You’re a Zombie.”
“What an original idea,” I thought. “What a poetic and groundbreaking combination of elements that will finally bring my career to the next level. I am like the Thomas Edison of 10-minute plays.”
Wrong. I am a hack. Here is why:
THE SHOW ALREADY EXISTS.
THERE ARE FIVE EPISODES.
What the fuck man?! I mean really, how deep to I have to dig before I break new ground? How far do I have to go to shock people?
Whatever, I’m calling it now: my next pop-culture mash-up project…
Cooking competitions and sexual abuse. Bring it VH1.
Bring it.
OMFG Vocabulary – Word of the Day “Reality”
Once signifying the state of things as they actually are rather than as they appear to be, reality now denotes a television show featuring untrained actors, poor writing, amateur set design and heavy editing. It is common for the actors to be B-list or lower level celebrities and/or to be engaged in some kind of competition.
This is a ground breaking modern term in that it now means the opposite of what it used to mean. “Reality” TV now implies a greater effort at audience deception. Unlike scripted TV, which is forthcoming about its fictionalization, Reality TV hides its staged nature by cutting production values on all fronts to give the appearance of a documentary program. It then creates false conflicts, false personalities and results in false celebrities. The technique of using a familiar term to promote its polar opposite is a classic bait-and-switch that currently permeates every corner of our popular culture.
It’s as if the FDA began distributing “safe sex” prophylactics made out of diseased penises.
For a more detailed study of the Reality TV Apocalypse check out “TMZ TV,” appearing this week at the Access Theatre in New York as part of Madair Production’s Project Playwright IV.
Multi-tasking
I am incapable of pooping unless I am reading something. My bowels simply will not function unless my eyes are scanning some sort of text. It doesn’t matter what; I’ve been known to read the back of a toothpaste tube in order to relieve myself. Now of course thanks to the iphone I can be doing any number of things while perched on the porcelain throne, including posting this message.
Lemme back up. The point I’m making is that is that the conveniences of the modern lifestyle have produced some inconvenient habits. I doubt very much that cavemen agonized over how to keep themselves entertained while passing stool. We have reached a level of comfort that defies mother nature and reworks out bodies in strange ways.
Perhaps a more common and less disgusting example is eating and watching TV. Have you noticed how hard it is to eat without watching something? This is especially true of eating alone, but even when I’m with someone I have a powerful urge to tell them to shut up and chew. It’s like our brains need to reach a state of vegetative absorbtion in order for our bodies to absorb vegetebles (or cheez-its in my case).
This is probably a uniquely urban phenomenon, and my friends from the wilds of the west coast will read this and wonder “what’s he talking about? The other day I ate my lunch while I reflected on the beauty of a fallen leaf, and my bowel movements are moments of deep, pure meditation.”
Therefore we city-dwellers must be careful. Such excessive convenience comes with a price. We are re-wiring our bodies so that entertainment has gone from a luxury to a commodity to a necessity.
Ali Larter
All right let’s talk seriously for a moment here. Last night, while knuckle-deep in a box of Cheez-Its watching Resident Evil 3, I came face to face with the inevitable: I am a huge fan of Ali Larter. My devotion does not stem from the fact that she is a doe-eyed leggy blonde (my girlfriend’s theory) but rather because:
1) She’s a bad actress. I mean very very bad. She’s so bad that she crosses the line from poor acting to instant camp. Her presence can transform any movie from a low-budget thriller into a farcical tragedy.
2) She works more than any bad actress in Hollywood today, and her fame is a complete fabrication. She is a living representation of the entertainment industry’s embracement of hype and name recognition above any other quality.
Therefore Miss Ali Larter singlehandedly embodies two of my most guilty fascinations: laughably poor performances and a film industry that runs not on plot, dialogue or even physical appearence, but exclusively on fame. She’s like a living car crash…horrible to behold and yet I cannot turn away.
Lemme back up. You see Ali Larter is a fake actress. But don’t take my word for it, check out this explanation from the ever-reliable Wikipedia:
In November 1996, Larter portrayed the hoax model Allegra Coleman in Esquire magazine. The article published in the magazine told of the fictional model’s relationship with David Schwimmer, how Quentin Tarantino broke up with Mira Sorvino to date her, and Woody Allen’s overhaul of a film to have her star. Even after the hoax had been revealed, its effects lingered, and various talent agencies sought to represent the non-existent Coleman.
By providing the visual for a bizarre mid-nineties magazine stunt, Larter was ushered into the B-list without even the dubious credits of heiress porn stars like Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian. But I would argue that Larter is their predecessor in the realm of being well-known for no reason, paving the way for the self-feeding fame that fuels so many careers these days. She’s like Rosa Parks of the celebutant set.
I’m not technically old enough to be this jaded, but I feel that there must have been a time when you had to be good at something in order to get paid for it. In a world where Joe the Plumber gets an album deal, any talent on Larter’s part might have gotten in her way. To this day she remains the girl from that magazine cover, the stock photo placed under the heading “Actress,” redefining what acting can be for the benefit of those of us who foolishly dropped hundreds of thousands of dollars to study it at a university.
And what a bold new world it is. In Final Destination it seems as if she genuinely doesn’t know what she’s saying. And I don’t mean just that she doesn’t connect with her dialogue, I mean that she actually doesn’t recognize the words coming out of her mouth, as if she’s never spoken English before and is reading it phonetically off a cue card. Usually a movie must age at least 20 years before it becomes campy enough to provide this level of entertainment. On Heroes, Larter creates a new cult classic every Monday in Prime Time.
On a related note, last night I followed up Resident Evil: 3 with Species: 2 staring Michael Madsen who is FUCKING PHENOMENAL. Now even Quentin Tarantino, arguably Madsen’s biggest fan, couldn’t honestly say that he’s much more than a weathered B-movie actor. However the difference between him and Larter is like night and day. Madsen swaggers and squints like he knows what a piece of crap he’s in, and willingly plays his ridiculous part in it. Larter pushes her way through every scene like it was her once-in-a-lifetime shot at stardom, each word dripping with the forced sincerity of an impostor, and therefore perhaps exhibiting a little self-awareness after all.
OMFG Vocabulary – Word of the Day “Alternative”
In the last several decades, this word’s meaning has gradually changed from “One of several options” to “Good.” This term can apply to any type of art form, but the most prominent examples are the music scene of the mid-nineties and the comedy scene of the early-zerosies. Used primarily by bitter hipsters, “Alternative” categorizes their place within an art form and simultaneously explains why they aren’t getting paid for their work. Anyone who creates something new and original will try to classify it as “Alternative,” simply because it is an alternative to what has come before it. As is everything. “Alternative” also carries with it the implication of “Street Cred,” giving the impression that something is better because less people know about it (even though this might not technically be true).
Example:
“Hey Jeff…haven’t seen you with a lady in a while. You doin’ okay?”
“Yeah, well I’ve been doing the alternative dating thing a lot lately.”
“Oh yeah? Alternative to what?”
“Too…um…not paying…for sex”
“Kinda just gave it away there Jeff.”
“I know. Fuck!”
“Alternative” is closely related to “Underground” or “Independent” in that it usually denotes a subset within a genre that receives less funding and poorer distribution than projects with suitable financial backing, which are dubbed “Mainstream.” However it is interesting to note that “Alternative,” which used to only indicate something in relation to something else, remains the label for its subset even after it has grown to dominate and monopolize the industry.
A Historic Night
Last night was a monumental moment in American history. Casting aside the shackles of the past we strode boldly, arm and arm into a brighter future. The next generation has taken the reigns and true change has finally arrived.
I am referring of course to the MUTHAFUCKIN’ HOLOGRAM ON CNN!
HOLY CRAP THAT WAS FREAKIN’ AWESOME!
Is it truly possible in this day and age that we can watch a holographic interview that makes Jessica Yellin look like Darth Sideous?
Yes we can.
If holograms are a reality, can’t we be only a few years away from phasers, teleporters, tricorders and food replicators?
Yes we can.
And can we now envision a reality in which we will have access to public holodecks, sometimes used to recreate famous Sherlock Holmes capers but much more frequently used (following the example of the internet) as super-safe fantasy brothels?
Yes we can.
And if tens of thousands of nerds throughout the nation watch the debut of holographic technology on CNN at the same exact moment, can they feel the sense of community as they all simultaneously cream their pants?
Yes.
We.
Can.