Clap, clap clapsssssss!

This is great news from the SPCA. Taylor Licare, a Texan youth, spent her summer operating lemonade stands. Last week, she presented the SPCA with a check for her earnings — $600.00.

Someone give this kid a few gold stars.

If you’d like to donate the proceeds from your lemonade stand, give the SPCA a shout.

And God bless the Texas heat for once!

(photo from http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150262606808978&set=a.424963808977.210060.12876978977&type=1&theater)

 

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Oh, will.you.is.so.crazy!

I really think there needs to be a Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode for the Superbowl Halftime show. Who wants to help? Come on. I know a lot of you are Tom Servos in disguise.

“Wait…did Christina…no way!”

“I think they’re setting a new world record for most people on a football field doing the Running Man at once.”

“Slash is probably taking the Silkwood shower of a lifetime in all that cash he just made from his duet with Fergie.”

“It’s all downhill after Janet’s nippling, I guess.”

Russell even texted: “Fergie is pitchier than week one of of American Idol,” and, “You’d think they could have hired a decent sound guy if they had ten less dancing robots.”

For me, the real magic was more about the Black Eyed Peas’ wardrobe. That getup was like an Austrian techno Tron and Beyond the Thunderdome mash-up. I thought we buried all that with Tupac’s “California Love” video. Guess not.

by Russell...duh.

Regardless, Fergie is totally hot. I don’t care if she pees in her pants on stage. I don’t care if she likes to hit the bottle. I don’t care if she can’t sing. I don’t even care if she wears Tina Turner’s leftovers from 1984. That girl is completely-on-fire-superhero-good-looking, BUT watching her with Slash was painful on a variety of levels. I felt like I was being subjected to Glee and sports bar karaoke at the same time, except…with Slash, who seemed like he was trying hard not to acknowledge that he was sharing a stage with Fergie. She needs to write Christina Aguilera a thank-you note for running interference by (a) forgetting the words to the national anthem and (b) wearing that awful wig.

There is something kind of WOW about watching the Black Eyed Peas yell, “MAZEL TOV!” It makes my brain cringe. They must be surrounded by an army of yes men these days, kinda like when Madonna decided to play guitar and rap, but worse.

Luckily, for those of us who found the halftime show a little too Olympicky and Thunderdome-y, the BEPs staged a second performance. Sweet:

That really was the sound of a zillion people chanting, “FERGIE, FERGIE, FERGIE, FERGIE!!! ” Ah, the sound of our free democracy! All of that and Jim Carey, too. Dessert is served, ladies.

All joking aside, I was seriously offended by Michael Douglas’s intro. And, man, I like Michael Douglas. Superbowl filmmakers, how dare you exploit images of women’s suffrage and Martin Luther King, Jr., soundbites from landmark American speeches, the space shuttle, immigrants tipping their hats to the Statue of Liberty, Iwo Jima, 9/11, etc., and sum it all up with:

“And tonight here we are, united, to see their journey…”

Football is American, yes — in an apple pie way, not in a people-freaking-died-for-this way. The analogy is absurd and grossly inappropriate. The journey of two teams might be a fantastic, amazing story worthy of passing down amongst generations. However, the extreme sacrifice of America’s history-making radicals and patriots, scientists and blue collar workers, is NOT an appetizer to your chip-and-dip party. So, up yours with that one, Superbowl.

Harumph.

Thank god there were at least dancing robots. A good robot can always unruffle even the most furrowed of feathers. I don’t know what they were doing with the Peas, but I’m sure Tom Servo will be able to shed some light.

When banality collides: Kings of Leon vs. Glee

This morning’s world news: Egypt continues tripping all over itself in dangerous crisis. Over twenty people die in a Columbian coal mine explosion. An army of heavily gunned men in the Congo rape over 60 men, women, and children — again. Ryan Murphy of Glee (and Nip/Tuck, Running with Scissors, Popular) and Nathan Followill from Kings of Leon piss all over each other’s egos.

Get over yourselves. There's important stuff happening elsewhere.

 

(Oh, brother.)

Although it’s comically petty in contrast, I’m relieved to live in a part of the world where fighting words between titty babies would even be considered news.

In case you don’t know, Kings of Leon is a mediocre band popular with the generation behind mine. It’s that sort of safe, middle-of-the-road fare I don’t mind my kid loading onto her iPod. Outside of that, their music is real suburban mouth-breather fodder.

You probably most remember Kings of Leon from the bird poop incident last year in which the band walked off stage three songs into their set. It was “the venue’s fault,” they said. Fortunately for fans of both opening bands, neither The Postelles nor The Stills felt the need to make any sissy escapes. (Hey, even Justin Bieber kept going after he broke his arm onstage, for chrissakes.)

Moving on.

In the opposite corner…Ryan Murphy, creator of Glee!

As with Kings of Leon, I’ve tried to give Glee a fair shot. My mom and kid love this show, but I can’t get into it to save my life. It’s exactly like watching Barney, except instead of a purple dinosaur, there’s a high school Spanish teacher and an even bigger dosage of political correctness.

Enter controversy: Murphy wanted to use Kings of Leon’s song “Use Somebody,” a track I can’t seem to duck to save my life. Luckily, Kings refused to allow their music to be sung on Glee. Maybe the band realized that bringing the two together would’ve created some kind of black hole of banality? Whatever the case, it’s turned into a pretty hilarious media spectacle between the egos of a pot and a kettle, and I love what Brett Warner has to say about it all:

Dear Mr. Followill,

I’d like to think you’re above this, sir — but then again, you play the drums in the most disgustingly safe, inoffensive “rock” group of my generation.

Not to be outdone by:

Dear Mr. Murphy,

[…] Just remember — you gave Julian McMahon breast cancer, so enjoy the current creative success while it lasts.

(Read Warner’s entire witty editorial here, as well as his open letters to both offending parties.)

Now, let’s get back to Egypt. And Columbia. And the Congo.

 

Jean Paul [even] Gaudier

Oh, it was pretty bad the first time around, but seeing this outfit again on poor two-year-old Mia from TLC’s “Toddler’s and Tiaras” this evening sealed the deal for me. I don’t ever need to see another metallic Gaultier cone bra for the duration of my life.

Yeah.

Two things:

  1. Is this some kind of early onset, weird, wardrobe aversion therapy? Where do you go from here? At this rate, Mia’s mom isn’t gonna have much of a leg to stand on when her kid wants to step out in a thong and pasties at fourteen. I feel like I just watched a prequel to “Sixteen and Pregnant,” and that makes me want a Silkwood shower;
  2. The Learning Channel? Really, guys? Quit trying to fool me here. You’re just Bravo for Republicans.

Off to boil my eyeballs now.