Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Beef and Broccoli

Can't stop watching this

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Frank Sinatra in Richmond, VA ca. 1950. Photo by Stanley Kubrick.

c/o Vanity Fair

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Nick, Russell, and Delia

Can this be real? I love Nick Cave, and The Proposition was pretty good (albeit thanks to a big assist by Ray Winstone), but this thing sounds only a cut or two above a piece of Gladiator fan fic. I think Australia is trying to put one over on us!

Meanwhile, in cool dead people news, I only found out about this chick the other day. WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME

Friday, May 1, 2009

Auto Connection

When the time comes to purchase a new car and your credit is terrible and you need that car or else you're so fired from Kinko's AGAIN and you live in the Richmond/Norfolk/Tidewater area, there is only one place to go SEE VIDEO:



Confidence: INSTILLED. That dog will sell you a car for 300 bucks, and since he's the bank and the law, he can get Will.I.Am to write him songs.

Auto Connection commercials
occupy a strange netherworld between terrible-on-accident and terrible-on-purpose. The pop song adaptations, horrible production value, and endless, endless uses of Mack Mack are obviously tongue-in-cheek to an extent. But there is still an inextricable awfulness to these commercials, regardless of how self-consciously budget they are.

A huge part of the inescapable seediness derives from the customer testimonials. Obviously, no attempt is made by anyone to sound convincing, and whatever is said is so clouded by the garishness that is going on around them that it really doesn't matter. Also, I have to say that on YouTube and in the link above, the audio is much, MUCH better than I have ever heard on TV. On my $40 set, everything the satisfied customers say is completely unintelligible.

In fact, no one can really get a sense for these ads without seeing them on television. This is because no one can ever be fully prepared to see an Auto Connection ad. Witnessing, say, "I'm On Fire" sandwiched in between two other relatively normal commercials is a complete sensory overload; by the time the wicked discofire effects, sweet views of Midlothian Turnpike, goateed Jimmy Buffet fans (I think that guy owns the place), real Mack Mack, anthropormorphic Mack Mack, and Virginia residents dropping down and getting their eagle on have clattered to an abrupt and jarring halt, any normal person will have lost all will to watch the denouement of "Frasier," no matter how wickedly farcical it might turn out to be.