(posted by ben axelrad)
I get goosebumps when I think about the Closing Ceremonies of the Olympics. In the spirit of sportsmanship all the nations of the world stay united to say goodbye to this two-week shit storm of boring. If I hear one more thing about figure skating it will be the first thing I’ve heard about figure skating and I’ll go homicidal with the next figure skate I find…which will be the first figure skate that I find. I guess what I’m trying to say is, yay for sportsmanship and goodwill.
Saturday Night Live can’t wait any longer for this bullshit party to end so they’re throwing a party of their own this weekend with talented actress Jennifer Lopez as the host and untalented musician Jennifer Lopez as the musical guest. Preview? Eh, if you need it.
Hot damn, Jennifer Lopez is hotter than ever. DAMN! Didn’t she have twins like a week ago? Were they butt babies? Don’t answer that, I enjoy believing they were.
It’s been a triumphant week at Poop or Chocolate, thank you to everyone who stopped by to check out T.J.’s interview or to meet Julia or to call Josh a self-loathing Jew. Even to the guy who popped in just to tell us we suck. Thank you to everyone. Keep coming over and we’ll keep feeding you funny. Have an excellent weekend and see you next week!
My name is Ben and we thank you.
(posted by josh golden)
It’s been a week and I am starting to feel left out. All my friends are busy missing cupcakes or scratching a tally into their arm of how many days they have till their girlfriend will sleep with them again, and I don’t get to miss anything. I want to give something up for Lent!
Drugs? Candy? Women? I really only have one of those things in my life. Then it came to me like a flash from another faith’s God: For Lent I am going to give up Judaism!
It’s going to be tough but I think I can make it. I already called in to the diamond mine I own in Perth (conflict free since 2003).
Sure, I’ll definitely miss my hair falling out and my mother guilting me about things I literally have no control over. But I will not miss diamonds or neurosis nearly as much as I will young whippersnappers fresh out of their first Liberal Arts school Humanities class blaming me for the entire Israeli/Palestinian conflict, even though in two years when they officially switch from a dependent they will be funding the thing directly. Probably both sides, by paying taxes and buying their first hookah.
My name is Josh, and my Lent starts now… Shabbat Shalom… FUCK!
(posted by julia prescott)
I would like to talk to you about the Travel Channel and the power of its star program, “Man V. Food.”
For those not in the know, “Man V. Food” host Adam Richman seizes upon countless gastronomic injustices; it’s a hybridization of escapism meets morbid curiosity. He approaches every meal with the same ferocious fist-pumping tenacity as one would before “the Big Game” in any national sport.
What is it about this program that makes me love it so? Words fail me, so I’ll try and explain it in a singular moment:
Imagine yourself sitting in your old High School cafeteria, only it isn’t old to you at the time, you’re in 10th grade. You take your tray to your table and sit next to your friends, there’s a loud humming of different conversations seeping to the outer limits of the lunchroom. You turn to your friend and ask them what they’re doing over the weekend. They, in exchange, begin to nibble on your personalized pizza.
Suddenly, a tray of stale sugar cookies is knocked over from the kitchen; a blaring clash resonates throughout the Mess Hall. All is silent. Hundreds of heads whip in synchronicity toward the action.
Then, the lovable schlub of the 11th grade nonsensically shoves his arms in the air, shouts, “Yeah!!!” and takes a triumphant bite of his cheeseburger; someone chimes in with a slow clap, and all present rejoice.
He is adored, he is a hero; this boy is a young Adam Richman. Making the mundane unnecessarily epic, cheering on the triumph of a plate of tasty hot wings as if he would the Super Bowl. He represents the guy friend you’ve learned to never live without; he always brought the party, he always brought the enthusiasm, he always brought the pork rinds.
In the introduction we learn that Adam has “every job imaginable in the food business,” and he backs up this statement by consistently knowing what the hell he’s talking about. He’ll casually take a bite out of a pulled pork sandwich and cite the different spices put in the rub without having been told so by the chef, or cut into a slice of pepperoni pizza and describe the different flavors of the cheeses used.
Sometimes you hear that he mobs upon “quantity, not quality.” This would be a worthy argument, but there are pockets within Richman’s show that almost knowingly defy this convention. Moments where he sniffs the aroma of a steaming pile of nachos with the same concentrated focus as a wine connoisseur would breathe in a stiff glass of Pinot. Occasionally he’ll take extra care to remark that not only is the breakfast burrito he’s consuming over 4 pounds in girth, but it’s actually quite delicious.
Though, the main appeal is still within the platefuls and platefuls of food. The show has made a name for itself by trumping its own impossibilities consistently throughout the course of its 2-season run. The 2 1/2 pound Dagwood sandwich challenge in Columbus, OH from Season 1 seems like child’s play compared to the 6 pound, “Big Badass Burrito” challenge Richman faced in Las Vegas, NV in Season 2. Needless to say, in that case Man was not triumphant.
I believe the strongest aspect to Richman’s appeal lies within his simple talent of commanding attention where it needn’t be. He seems like the kind of character that, if in the Old West would quickly be appointed to town sheriff based on his youthful enthusiasm and unequivocal talent for rallying large crowds of gawking strangers.
“Man V. Food” gets a bad rep, but those who criticize it have likely never personally seen it. For if they did, they’d know that there is so much more than a king’s ransom in fried potatoes to be consumed, or a plate of scorching hot wings. Richman interweaves comedic bits in between the gorging sessions to lighten the mood, and I’m positive no other food or travel-based show will consume just as much calories as it references “The Simpsons.”
Some people tell me that I should maybe be doing something more with my life than watching the same re-run of the “8-pound Philly Cheesesteak” episode 5 times over. Readers, I know it’s cheesy to say, but if I’ve convinced just one of you to flip over into the deep-fried side of cable, then suddenly those countless couch potato hours have served that purpose.
My name is Julia Prescott and I still get choked up when Food wins.
(posted by t.j. peters)
Knowing your target demographic is paramount to advertising. Whether you’re McDonald’s reaching out to the young black community or Experian looking to draw in the homicidal elderly, it’s of the utmost importance that you hone in on what’s important to that group and convey a message that will resonate. I’m not so sure freeHIVtest.net accomplished this goal.
The slogan “Hate to Wait?” is an interesting choice. I would guess the most common initial reaction is furious rage, considering the person viewing the billboard is probably sitting in rush hour traffic. So that’s a good start. Beyond that, though, there’s the factor of who the slogan is addressing. Unlike traditional HIV ads that target people who are either unwilling or uninclined to get an HIV test, this site ignores that possibility entirely, more or less assuming that desire has nothing to do with the problem. Instead, they’re trying to tap into this mind: You know, I love getting free HIV tests and all, but fuck if I don’t hate waiting around. First I’ve got to procrastinate. That’s waiting. Then I got to drive there. More waiting. And once I’m there, I’ve got to wait around until their ready to do shit for me. But seriously, I love getting free HIV tests.
But let’s just assume that freeHIVtest.net does know who they are targeting and those people, regardless of their motivation to get tested do, in fact, HATE TO WAIT. In that case, those people are going to be pissed once they figure out that the website doesn’t actually test for HIV. The internet can do a lot of things these days, but we’ve yet to perfect the technology that allows the user to pour his blood into the disk drive and receive STD test results back as fast as downloading an mp3 (which fucking takes forever, am I right?). In actuality, freeHIVtest.net site merely lists locations that offer free HIV testing, which can then be traveled to and waited at, adding an extra step to the “getting tested” process. Oh, boy. They’re not going to like that.
Unfortunately, even if freeHIVtest.net’s billboard does captivate someone enough to visit the site, that person is more than likely going to enter in the URL freeHIVtest.com — as opposed to .net — out of habit. After minutes of loading, she will reach a confusing temp page and (tired of waiting) give up, because apparently freeHIVtest.net didn’t have the funding to buy the .com URL from the cyber squatter who’s hosting it. I guess they put all their money into advertising.
My name is t.j. and this blog has been tested.
(posted by ben axelrad)
Coming at you a day late with my weekly LOST coverage ’cause T.J. hogged the site yesterday with his awesome interview. I’m glad you wrote an excellent post dude, but the rest of us need to use the internet too.
Anyhoo . . . LOST!
Of all the seeming impossibilities made prosaic on LOST, none seems more far-fetched to me than anyone following Hurley anywhere that didn’t have a snack bar or a water bong. Hurley found weed on that island, right? No one could stay that dumb, calm, and hungry without cannabinoids.
Speaking of drugs on the island, I bet after three years people are starting to get pissed all Charlie’s heroine burned up. I would’ve been pissed after three hours. This ain’t NA, bitch, we’re stranded on an inescapable island and you just torched our only artifice of escapism. If I was there this is how it would’ve gone down:
Charlie, did you find heroine?
Uhhhh…Nooooooo. This isn’t heroine.
Cut the crap, dude. That’s heroine.
Fine. But don’t tell anyone.
I’m telling EVERYONE. Hey everyone!
Charlie found heroine! Let’s all do heroine.
They don’t do heroine.
I don’t either. But this is the worst situation
ever and rumor has it that’s the best shit ever.
I think we’ll make an exception.
EVERYONE, COME QUICK!
Shhhh! You’re going to get me in trouble.
I’m a recovering addict.
Dude, no one cares about your stupid addiction.
One, we only met your junkie ass like a week ago.
And two, we just fucking plane-crashed on an
island they’re NEVER gonna find. You think
Hurley’s counting calories or Shannon’s working
on being less of a giant twat? No.
“Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,” brother.
But I had a real problem with the stuff.
Yeah, well you have a few real problems now too.
And most of them won’t get you high as shit.
Try catching a buzz off that homicidal billow of
anthropomorphic black smoke.
I guess you’re right. Let’s do some heroine.
After this we should try my addiction.
Oh yeah? What’s that?
Masturbating to tropical polar bears.
Don’t judge me, junkie.
This island is magical.
We all know the island cures everything except death, and apparently heroine addiction. So that means either heroine addiction is as bad as death or the island condones it. I mean, am I wrong? Probably.
Don’t do drugs, kids. Unless you’re stranded with me on an island. Or in a prison. Or at a somewhat long stop light.
My name is Ben and LOST is my drug of choice (as are drugs).