the white asshole’s burden

New post up on Overthinking It today, in what’ll hopefully be the first post in a series overthinking Treme: The White Asshole’s Burden:

Since these are problems that affect black people, even if they’re not “black problems,” the temptation must have been strong to create a Great White Hero who would swoop in and save the situation. But Simon, Overmyer and Mills ducked that temptation. The black residents of Baltimore and New Orleans rise or fall based on what they can pull together. And the White Men who show up to help are not noble. They’re comically ignoble.

Also, if you live in the Boston area and you have yet to see my incredible cast perform Discount Shakespeare: “As You Like It” in Forty-Five Minutes, tonight is your last chance ever. Tickets still available; get them at the ImprovBoston box office or go to the website.

tiger woods and the iron law of stardom

New post on Overthinking It today that looks at the recent Tiger Woods Nike commercial in light of Louis Menand’s theory of the “Iron Law of Stardom”:

As soon as the commercial aired, the professional commentariat began debating whether or not this “penance” was “sincere.” Polls went up. Comments on YouTube exploded. Sports pundits and columnists took sides. That, to my jaded eyes, is proof positive of the incredible power of advertising as a medium — because nowhere in the ad does it say Tiger’s doing penance. You fill that in for yourself.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-check it.

and I’d as soon go to Dublin as to hell

Vegas updates continue tomorrow. I owed Overthinking It a post first: For Love or Money: The Lessons of Modern Romance.

Romantic movies are merely the latest medium in a tradition that dates back to the dawn of human civilization. From the myth of Pyramus and Thisbe, the correspondence of Abelard and Heloise, the epic poetry of the Roman de la Rose, the comedies of Shakespeare and the poetry of Lord Byron, we get the moral that love is a rare gift. If you come across love in the wild, you should drop everything you’re doing to pursue it. From this notion, we get tales of knights, peasants and adventurers who risk everything in order to be with someone they love. This gambit can end happily (Twelfth Night) or tragically (Tristan et Isolde), but the gambit’s always there.

And happy St Patrick’s Day.

why weak male characters are bad for women

New Overthinking It post on why weak male characters are bad for women:

On the surface, [She’s Out of My League is] a forgettable sex comedy. Adorable schlub lands major-league hottie; usual series of pratfalls and embarrassing incidents; he rises to the occasion and proves himself worthy of her love. No bankable stars and plenty of references (the TSA, iPhones) that will hopefully seem dated in ten years. The tone’s a little more crass than usual, but no worse than anything we’d see in the Eighties. Or Nineties. Or Aughts.

Of course, I liked it much better the first time I saw it, when it was called (500) Days of Summer.

but thou must

New article up on Overthinking It today about video games and the categorical imperative. Excerpt:

You don’t need to question if killing everyone you see, stockpiling on shuriken and climbing cliff faces while birds fling themselves at you like meteorites (these damn BIRDS) is getting you closer to your end. You never stop and wonder, “Is any of this bringing me closure on my father’s death?” You just keep going. So long as you kill everything you see and keep your life bar full, you’re doing the right thing.

You’re on the path. And so long as you stay on the path all the time, you’ll get to the end. You’re following the categorical imperative.

Enjoy!

I’m a hustler, homey; you a customer, crony

New post on Overthinking It today about how gangsta rap and Seinfeld validated each other. Check it out.

it is not dying; it is not dying

Returned to the Overthinking It podcast this week, talking about the two-year anniversary of the site, Conan O’Brien’s tumultuous departure from The Tonight Show and the SAG awards.

I highly recommend downloading the podcast. But, if you can’t, my thoughts on late night: I feel nothing so much as a profound pity for Conan O’Brien, who’s put in twenty years climbing to the top of a pyramid that is just now being buried by sand. Late night talk shows have never been less essential. They’re a dying venue in a dying medium. From a strict economic perspective, their current function is to produce Hulu clips at tremendous expense. Show of hands: how many of you followed the Leno-v-Conan feud of the past few weeks by staying up until 12:35 EST to watch every minute of both shows (plus Letterman and Kimmel’s commentary)? and how many of you followed it by watching video clips on entertainment blogs the morning after? and how many of you haven’t followed it at all?

One of my fellow podcasters suggested that Conan ought to be hired by Google, as a flagship presence for a new Google entertainment portal. I don’t know if that idea would work; the idea of Google producing its own entertainment content (a la Yahoo!, or Howard Stern with Sirius) makes as much sense as Google providing their own webmail, or GPS software, or cell phones. But it’s a crazy century so far. And my point remains: the late night talk show is not a dying creature; it’s a dead one. We’re witnessing the throes. The sanctity with which Conan spoke of The Tonight Show, and how terrible it would be to move it past 11:35 PM, sounded like a eulogy to me.

what’s the matter with kids today?

New post up on Overthinking It today, comparing the attitudes of juvenile delinquency in A Clockwork Orange and No Country for Old Men. Check it.

shut the door; have a seat

Monster post on Overthinking It today, overthinking Mad Men Season 3, which just wrapped this past Sunday. Preview:

Mad Men is a story about men and women searching for meaning. Mad Men can tell this story because it’s set in an ad agency. Consumer capitalism, which really came into its own following World War II, sells products that add meaning to people’s lives. If Americans don’t believe that their choice of cigarette will make them happy, or that a slide projector can restore the innocence of youth, then Don Draper and his crew are out of a job.

The language of advertising transforms products from the utilitarian to the spiritual. You don’t stay in a Hilton Hotel because of price or convenience. You stay in a Hilton Hotel because it brings the comforts of home to a foreign setting. Pepsi can reinvigorate our tired routine; AquaNet can capture the man who’ll provide for us; London Fog can take us on stimulating romantic adventures.

Most of the characters in Mad Men started 1963 with a brand in lieu of a soul. Roger Sterling was the silver fox with a trophy wife; Hilton was the golden treasure that every ad agency sought to claim; Don Draper, the genius with his finger on the pulse of culture. But we discovered that the brand and the product behind it don’t always relate. Roger is more of a lost boy than a dignified man; consider his Kentucky Derby party, or his growing feuds with his new wife. Conrad Hilton turns out to be a cranky, implacable eccentric. And Don? Behind the mask, what is Don Draper?

Share and enjoy.

it is not dying; it is not dying

I Still Like Him Better Than Steinbrenner
For my Don Draper costume, I had to shave my sideburns off for the first time in at least six years. This took considerable effort, as attacking six years’ growth with a disposable razor will, and left the skin underneath a little raw. But it looks fine now. Shaving since then has been disconcerting, however, since I typically start at my ear line by muscle memory alone and have now had to start cutting even higher.

I put little effort into the costume itself (nicest suit I had, dress shirt, conservative tie); the accessories made it work. I showed up at the office Halloween party with a highball glass full of “scotch” (ginger ale) and a cigarette dangling between my fingers (unlit; borrowed). Most people identified me on their first or second try.

Full Dance Card
Counting work, I hit up five Halloween parties this weekend, including:

• 90s Night at Common Ground, which gave away $100 for the best 90s costume. Logistics proved an issue, as management couldn’t convince Allston’s drunkest hipsters to circulate before the judge’s table, parading their wares. A horde of kids surged at the DJ booth, waving their hands and squealing like teenage zombies. I thought the kids in the Nickelodeon GUTS outfits had it locked, but Carmen Sandiego stole it.

• Joanna and Brian’s Halloween party. I knew which subway station they lived nearest, but didn’t know if it was on the Cambridge or Somerville side of the border. I guessed Cambridge at first. My GPS promptly led me to a Jewish dorm outside Harvard.

• Katie and Sylvia’s Halloween party. I wore a different suit for the Don Draper costume – double-breasted, even less period than the first. But people still got it, especially after I borrowed another cigarette. Half the party circulated in the kitchen, eating delicious sweets; the other half planted in the living room, watching The Craft. Remember those quaint days when Wiccans and goths were exotic?

• The Gorefest cast party. I congratulated the players on another successful and blood-drenched show. Our host baked a plate of monkey bread – essentially, a massive pile of butter, cinnamon, sugar and dough. We picked at it like savages until Paul challenged everyone at the table to eat one last piece and then stop. An hour later, three people were sitting on the floor with chunks of butter-soaked dough clenched in their front teeth (but not swallowed) and there was a pot of sixty dollars. Let no one say improv people don’t know how to party

The Patriot Marked for Death is Hard to Kill Under Siege
After a brief hiatus, I returned to the Overthinking It podcast last night. We planned to talk about Halloween costumes, haunted houses and the cultural rituals surrounding scaring each other. Then someone brought up Steven Seagal. Guess what we spent most of our time discussing.