Word of the day: Obdurate

ob·du·rate   [ob-doo-rit, -dyoo-] –adjective

1. unmoved by persuasion, pity, or tender feelings; stubborn; unyielding.
2. stubbornly resistant to moral influence; persistently impenitent: an obdurate sinner.

Ah obdurate. How I embody you so.

This word crossed my path again yesterday while watching an episode of Jeeves & Wooster, a fun British show that dates back to the early 90's. The PG Wodehouse books date back much farther than that, some written in the early 1900's and now in public domain (thus all loaded up on my Kindle!).

The Good Man introduced me to Jeeves & Wooster and I'm now hopelessly in love.

I love language and words, and Wodehouse certainly had a way with the Queen's English.

So I sort of chuckled this morning when I turned to my blog idea generator, and this was the suggestion:

"When other people tell me what to do...."

Answer: I become obdurate.

I'm not proud of it. It's just in my nature.

As the third of three kids born to a very smart and very in control family, I was "the baby" and thus everyone just, you know, told me what to do.

This certainly got me past many a hazard in my infancy, but there came a time, I don't know what age, when damnit, I was tired of being told what to do!

So much so, that being told what to do made me act out.

It's a trait that's carried through to adulthood. In fact, it only became more deeply entrenched an increased in velocity.

One would think that this would make me a very bad employee. Actually, when it comes to managers I like and respect, I have no trouble being told what to do in the workplace.

No, Madame Obdurate is more of a home life kind of gal.

Which makes friends, family and loved ones *ever* so happy.

I find my tendency to dig in when someone tells me what to do really isn't all that unique. It's pretty much a go-to for most of us.

Because we're all special little snowflakes, we want to do things our own damn way and I don't care what you say and pa-tooey!

Yeah.

As I often say to my friends, you don't have to be free of your emotional baggage, you just have to be self-aware about it.

See how I reel 'em in? Look at that face? Would she harm a fly? No, I don't think so. But tell her what to do and WHAMMO! Obdurate all up in your grille!

Saturday is rantacular!

An open letter to the Bay Area's NBC-11 (KNTV) television station

Dear programming directors at my local television station, NBC-11:

I'd like to begin our conversation by thanking you for televising Friday night's San Francisco Giants baseball game on your regular ol' not-cable television station.

For people like me who have gone back to days of yore by using rabbit ears to tune in my television, it's fun to actually get a chance to watch my home team instead of only being able to listen on the radio.

The Good Man and I celebrated by eating bratwurst for dinner to get in the mood.

Very cool.

That said...

I'd like to kindly remind you that your whole reason for being in Los Angeles Friday night was to video and broadcast the game on behalf of your home viewers.

You know, the residents of the Bay Area? The SAN FRANCISCO Bay Area?

See, here's the funny thing, by and large, on Friday, your viewers in the San Francisco Bay Area were all actively watching your fine station in order to see the Giants play baseball.

You know, the SAN FRANCISCO Giants?

So when you spend large portions of the game focused solely on Matt Kemp, giddy about Matt Kemp, how wonderful is Matt Kemp, showing us Matt Kemp in the dugout, Matt Kemp in the on deck circle, Matt Kemp picking his nose, you might fail to understand why I might be rather upset?

Why would I be this upset? Because %$!&ing Matt Kemp is a sonova$%#@ing player for the Dodgers!

How do I know this? Well, you see, I was able to take a gander at the front of his jersey. You might try this trick. Focus your freaking camera on him in every idle second, and you might get a close up look at the letters on his chest. Can you see it? Can you see it says D...O...D...G....

....ARE YOU EVEN PAYING ATTENTION!?!?!?!?!?

You are broadcasting a Giants game to Giants fans! Screw the Dodgers fans in the Bay Area! Who cares about them? They are not your core demographic!

I do not want to see Manny Ramirez unless he's batting. I do not want to see Casey Blake unless he's fielding a ball. I do not give one miniscule rat's ASS about Matt Kemp unless he is batting or actively making a play.

And I give even less than a miniscule rat's ass about all of the repeated views of Matt's Kemp's adorable little girlfriend Rhianna sitting in the stands.

Yes, we're all very excited that Matt Kemp is dating Rhianna. Yes, she's very cute. Yes, I know all you big sport broadcasting boys are squeeing with glee about the chance to film Rhianna sitting there with a hoodie over her head looking all cool. I know she's like, oh my god, whoa, isn't that the coolest thing ever, double squee!

But for f*ck's sakes! Let's just let the LA station broadcast the gratuitous lingering camera shots of their own players and their own players girlfriends.

Hey, here's a cost saving idea! Why don't *you* just use LA's KCAL television feed for the next Giants-Dodgers game? That way I can, at the very least, listen to the dulcet tones of Vin Scully call the game.

At least that would be something interesting!

Now.

That said.

Saturday's game is nationally televised on Fox. You know that that means? That means Joe Buck.

I guran-frapping-tee you that your crappy Friday night television coverage will hold up well by comparison to Joe freakin' Buck's uninspired and wooden-like call. I plan on feeling nauseated. Buck's voice usually inspires that in me..

Because, NBC-11, you suck, but Joe Buck sucks worse.

And that's something to build on.

Baseballically yours,

Karen

P.S. These are my pants. They are cranky. That is all.

Such a Suggestible Girl

Sometimes it really worries me that the things I can most easily remember, can get to most quickly in the old brain bucket, are commercials.

Especially those commercials from the formative years.

I can whip out a jingle or a tagline from commercials dating way back, and repeat 'em like Rainman in a phone booth (yikes, no more phone booths!).

What makes these commercials so sticky in the brain? I don't know, but obviously this is the intended effect, eh?

So here in this Christmas season, I've been thinking about all of those old Ronco commercials. No, not the new Ron Popeil ads. Those are lame.

The old Ronco ads. Let's talk 1970's.

Remember when Ronco ads used to repeat, ad nauseum, at every commercial break?

Here's a few I was able to find on the web:

Smokeless Ashtray

Boogie Nights Record Album (Click to play)

Ice Cream Machine(Click to play)

Look at this!! The early Bedazzler!!

Rhinestone and stud setter(Click to play)

Oh yes. Good times.

There are a few of my faves I wasn't able to find. For example, the Egg Scrambler. A funny little machine that with a pinprick to the egg and the revs of a small motor would scramble it up inside the shell.

Or the Record Vacuum. I found a couple of those ads, but not the one I remember. In the one I recall, they ran the vinyl through the vacuum then tossed a handful of confetti at it (to prove the static was gone, I think?).

Ah yes.

But then, there will always be the gold standard of Ronco commercials.

Found on the web and brought to you.

"Hey good looking! I'll be back to pick you up later!"

Enjoy

Mr. Microphone! (Click to play)

Dear Tareq and Michaele Salahi,

Since I have now taken over the PR storytelling duties for Tiger, you're next.

So, herewith, five reasonable and acceptable stories to explain your behavior.

Pick one, say it, and then please, on behalf of everyone (I'm asking nicely) go away.

Here we go:

1) Well, you know, that Tareq (Michaele rolls her eyes here), he will *never* ask anyone for directions. I told him I didn't think turning left back there was the right direction, but he swore up and down this was the right way. We were supposed to be at a nice dinner party over at the Farklebergs. You know the Farklebergs? Lovely couple. Anyhow, I have no idea how we ended up here. Could we get a ride to the Farkleberg party? Margie will be beside herself if we are late! And I know Tareq doesn't want to miss her famous mini quiches!

2) What? Where am I? Who am I? I was abducted by aliens. The big greenish gray ones. They came into my room, forced me to put on this tux/dress and then there was a bright light. I don't remember what happened next. When I came to, I was shaking the president's hand. I really have no idea what happened! I think they may have probed me.

3) Oh heck, haw haw haw, this is all one big practical joke! I mean, everyone was in on it, c'mon, this is all a big press stunt for that reality show (which I'll refrain from naming)! No seriously, they paid us well and we donated it all to charity. No one snuck past the Secret Service, it was all planned out. Everything is *fine*, hasn't this all been a great big hoot?

4) Look, now that you have totally blown our cover...we can only say that we are part of a top secret black hole government project and we *may* have perfected the ability to beam ourselves through the space time continuum. It's not totally perfect yet, Michaele's face wasn't quite so pulled back and *tight* when we beamed up, but we're getting close to a technology that will BLOW YOUR MIND. That's all I can say. Hush, hush you know.

5) Tiger's dad told us to. From the grave. It was all very mystical.

And there you have it.

Now scootch along. We've other media whores to deal with. Where's Lindsey or Brittney or Paris? We're due for a stunt from the professional crazies!

Anyhow, hugs and kisses!

Your pal,

Karen

I'm a giver!

Yep, sorry things were so quiet around here yesterday, but The Good Man had a day off from work, so we had a nice Monday together.

And what did we do with that Monday off?

Well. We went to the San Jose Tech Museum of Innovation.

Cool, right?

They chronicle the history of the rise of technology. Especially fitting here in the Bay Area where so much technology got its start.

Oh, and they have an awesome hands on display that shows you how earthquakes work and how the ground liquefies. That display has done a lot to help me understand the phenomenon so well.

But that's not why we went...

Noooo.

We went to see Star Trek - The Exhibition.

Complete with a replica of the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.

I sat in the captain's chair.

Because *I* am a good partner to my sci-fi lovin' husband.

I even leaped through the gateway to the City at the Edge of Forever (the, uh, Guardian of Forever). Oh yes I did.

Because I knew it would make him happy.

Look, I'm not a Star Trek fan. Nor am I a hater.

Ok, fine, I'd watch a few episodes in the early days when I was hanging out with my big brother. I've seen a few of the movies and none of the more recent series (which were heavily represented at the exhibit).

But this day was not about me. It was about The Good Man. And heck, to spend time with him, I'd endure much geekier than a bunch of costumes and gadgets!

Did I ever tell you that in the early days of dating, he took me to a Bela Lugosi film festival?

And I had a great time, too. Because when The Good Man is happy, I'm happy too.

I made him go see The Crafty Chica when she was in town, so really, fair's fair.

Infomercial Wow

Over the holiday break, my lazy hind-end had the opportunity to watch a LOT more television than I usually do.

And since I watch sans a TiVo or similar device, I am subjected to all manner of commercials. The retail onslaught has been hard and heavy this year.

But sometimes, there is a commercial that rises above the rest.

It began with the repeated ads for a product called ShamWow.

A very enthusiastic guy with a wireless microphone headset (mildly reminiscent of Madonna in the Vogue years, image here) and an east coast New York/New Jersey blend accent extolled the virtues of this fabulous new absorbent product.

Okay. Well, good. Very spongy.

But the commercial stood out more for the oddball guy making the pitch than for the product itself. I admit, it was, as they say in the marketing world, "sticky". I can remember the product name off the top of my head, so it's working.

Then a couple days ago, the ShamWow guy showed up in a new ad for something called a SlapChop. This product is a new and improved version of a good ol' kitchen chopper.

Same guy, same accent, but he's got a schtick working now. There he is, chopping away at a variety of items, telling us that the SlapChop is going to transform our lives.

Then he said something in the ad that caused The Good Man and I to stop all activity and look at each other.

"Did he really say that," I asked, and TGM nodded.

What my new television pal Vince Offer said was:

"You're going to love my nuts."

He then showed how the SlapChop can decimate the nut of your choice to tiny bits.

Then later he also said, "Stop having a boring tuna."

Well yeah! Who wants a boring tuna!

At first I was kind of put off by this Vince guy, but the more he shows up on my television screen (which is a LOT lately), the more I'm in this guy's corner.

A quick Wikipedia glance makes for some good reading. (you've made it when you have a Wiki about you...right?)

I found a Slate article, and below is the best quote that sums up exactly what I wanted to say:

"Vince...conveys a street-smart persona—with his headset microphone, rat-a-tat phrasing and fuhgeddaboutit confidence—that's intended to get the viewer thinking, "Hey, this guy's sharp. He knows a good deal." (It may also get us thinking, "Hey, this guy's a douche. He needs a better haircut." But that's a secondary issue.)"

Can Vince become the next Billy Mays (of OxiClean and OrangeGlo fame)?

Time will tell.

For now, let me just say this. You're gonna love his nuts.

Image from SlapChop website.

For the Cause

As you know, I'm a huge fan of The Crafty Chica, the one and only Kathy Cano-Murillo.

I read her blog faithfully and have watched with interest the developing "Safe Sparkle" campaign.

You see, Ellen Degeneres on her very popular show, put out a call for a president who would ban glitter.

She even went so far as to pose the question to presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton.

For The Crafty Chica, whose motto is "Peace, Love, and Glitter", this was a *gasp* inducing event.

So Kathy has taken it to the streets.

She held a Safe Sparkle rally outside of Ellen's studios, but so far, no impact.

Her next salvo is this, a YouTube clip begging for peace and understanding. Kathy has asked her friends to help get the word out by posting it to blogs everywhere, and I'm happy to oblige.

It runs about six minutes.

Getcher glitter on!

It seems like a really bad idea...

Found myself bored and channel surfing this evening and happened upon a new reality show entitled "Gone Country". It's hosted by one of my fave musicians, John Rich (the Big & Rich song "Big Time" never fails to make me sing along both loudly and badly).

It stars the likes of Bobby Brown, Sisqo,Dee Snyder, Maureen McCormick and Carnie Wilson. The website calls the mix "eclectic". Unh huh.

Their challenge? To sing country music. And the one who ultimately wins will have a country record produced by Rich.

Oy.

What B and C list celebs won't do for a little money.

It was painful to watch. I couldn't get through the entire episode.

And somehow, I know that country music is going to be mercilessly made fun of.

I just....can't watch this.

And tonight I light several dozen candles and say a novena for the writer's strike to end and actual thoughtful, artistic shows to return to television.