Truth In Advertising?

Sometime yesterday while on MySpace I saw this ad for an online dating service:



Because I was at MySpace, the ad was actually targeted based on my profile information, hence the "Find Singles in Leesburg" line.
That wasn't what really stood out for me, though.
It was actually one of the "singles" pictured:



The reason she stood out is that I recognized her as being adult model Sydney Moon, seen here:



(I'm reasonably certain that somewhere in the pile of digital bits that make up my largely unused and seldom looked at - although obsessively compiled - collection of pictures I actually have the picture used in the ad, but finding it would involve a lot more work than I'm willing to put into it.)
Somehow I doubt that Ms. Moon lives in Leesburg, and even if she did, it's even more unlikely that she'd have to make use of an online dating service.
(Her totally NSFW - after the initial page, anyway - Web site can be found here)
It's hardly surprising that dating sites don't use their actual clients in ads - I've browsed a lot of profiles and can't really say that I blame them for not making use of those resources.
And it's not the first time I've noticed them culling from the nude model pool: I've recognized at least a couple Playboy Playmates in the various True ads that are all over the Web with their totally un-True pictures of women who are supposedly using the service.
Again, I understand the reasoning and I'm not necessarily faulting them for trying to make a buck, it's just that the kind of lonely, desperate nerds (like me) that the ads are designed to appeal to are the ones who are most likely to say, "Hey, I know her, that's..." and call bullshit on the ads.
Of course, that being said, lonely, desperate nerds (like me) will probably still get suckered in by the pictures of hot models anyway.

Yes, Beauty Does Have An Age Limit, And It's Lower Than The Speed Limit

After titling my last post it occurred to me that maybe I really should have written it on my cell phone.
It certainly would have been a lot shorter if I had.
On the topic of short posts, though, in my desire to make a “clever” entry about 300 by limiting myself to three hundred words, I was forced to edit out one of my favorite bits from my original entry, so I’m including it here:

So I went to see 300 today, just like I said I would.
The prophecy has been fulfilled!
Sadly, though, sad “prophecy” did not involve a hot naked girl gyrating rhythmically while stoned out of her mid the way the visit to the oracle did in the movie, but then, very little in my life involves hot naked girls gyrating rhythmically while stoned out of their minds, so what else is new?

Also edited out of the final version was a reference to Frank Miller’s collaborator on 300, colorist Lynn Varley, who also worked on the backgrounds of the movie, and who was, last I knew, also Miller’s wife, though her Wikipedia entry says that she is his “former” wife.
I also left out a lot of my thoughts on the movie, but whatever.
On last night’s Colbert Report, Stephen, who in response to the news of Captain America’s death, had harsh words about Cap and his failure to back the government in the recent Civil War storyline, read a letter he’d received from Marvel Editor-in-Chief (and former Report guest) Joe Quesada, in which it was revealed that Cap had bequeathed his indestructible shield to Colbert.
Stepping away from the illusion, from what I read online the shield given to Stephen had apparently once hung in the office of the late Mark Gruenwald.
Colbert’s been getting a lot of love from Marvel lately; in one issue of Civil War, a bus bearing an ad for the Report featuring a photo of Stephen is clearly visible during a climactic battle scene, and Stephen himself appears in an issue of the Peter David-scripted Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.
Speaking of Spidey, the only worthwhile trailer at 300 was the new one for Spider-Man 3. Looks like we definitely get to see some Venom action. Definitely looking forward to that one, and I was glad to see the trailer.
One thing I wasn’t glad to see (apart from all of the guys walking around in leather Speedos in the movie – though considering that they weren’t even wearing that much in the comics, I was grateful they had them on) was an ad that aired before previews started for Dove (the soap, not the ice cream).
It featured images of various women in the nude (with strategic arm and leg placement) while the text proclaimed that each one was “too old to appear in an anti-aging commercial.”
Now normally I’m all for nude women on the big screen (and there were more than a few in the movie proper, including Lena Headey), but the fact of the matter was that the women pictured in the commercial were too old to appear in an anti-aging commercial. Way too old.
The text went on to explain that it actually wasn’t an anti-aging commercial, it was a pro-aging commercial. Then it said something like, “Beauty doesn’t have an age limit.”
I had to conclude that the people writing the text weren’t watching the same commercial I was because there very clearly is an age limit.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m not prize pig myself, and glass houses, and whatever, but the fact is that you don’t see me naked on the big screen with text proclaiming me beautiful, and that this is a good thing is something that we can all agree on.
Anyway, the good nudity in the movie largely made up for the bad that came before it, but even so, at the very least they could have slapped some leather Speedos on the biddies.
I understand that the point of the ad (and the entire campaign) is to change attitudes and opinions about beauty and aging, but guess what? It’s not going to happen.
Especially when you make people look at 20 foot high images of leathery, liver-spotted naked skin.

I Should Have Written This On My Cell Phone

Yesterday morning at around, oh, I don’t know, say, way the fuck before I was willing to get up, I thought I heard my cell phone ring. I started to get up, but it didn’t do it again, so I said, “Screw it,” and went back to sleep.
When I did get up sometime later I checked to see if I had any missed calls listed. I didn’t, so I sort of forgot about it.
Sometime late in the evening it occurred to me that it might have been the sound of me receiving a text message, so I checked that and sure enough I had a text message from Kathleen.
However, repeated attempts to actually open the text message have failed, so Kathleen, if you’re reading this, whatever it is you felt the need to tell me – but couldn’t take the time to call me to tell me – I don’t actually know what it was.
I know I’m probably showing my age here, but I think that text messages are kind of retarded.
Multimedia messages make sense. I mean, you’re out and about, you see something crazy, you snap a picture/video on your phone, you send it to your friends. Fine.
But straight up text messages? What for?
Okay, so you need to tell someone something, but you’re not physically in that person’s presence. What to do? Well, you’ve got a telephone in your hand, and the person you need to talk to also has a telephone on him, so the solution is obvious: type in a message on your telephone and send it to his telephone so that he can read it.
Because that makes perfect sense. It’s sort of like loading a document into a fax machine, then packing up the fax machine and mailing it to the person you wanted to send the fax to.
Even with QWERTY keyboards sending messages on a cell phone can be a huge pain. So you’re an accomplished thumb typer; it’s still easier to type on a proper keyboard.
Besides, the odds are that nothing you have to say via text message is vitally important because, let’s face it, you’re really kind of insignificant and most people can get by just fine without immediately hearing, or rather, reading, what you have to say. I’m sorry. I know your mommy told you that you’re special, but you’re just not (Though you will always be special to your mommy, okay?). So just wait until you’re at a computer and send a damn e-mail. The world will keep turning in the interval.
That’s the other thing: most cell phones with texting capability also have e-mail capabilities.
Also, text messages often cost money above and beyond what you’re already paying, both for you and the person receiving them.
There’s pretty much no way around it; text messages are retarded.
The other problem that I have with text messages is that they further encourage the dumbing down of language via stupid abbreviations, a process started by advent of instant messaging (and, to a lesser extent, the titles of Prince songs back in the 80s).
Okay, fine, you’re in a hurry and can’t type out “you,” so instead you resort to “U.” You also can’t be bothered to type out “you are,” so you go with “UR.”
That much at least makes sense, but you have to understand that there is no circumstance under which “UR” can reasonably fill in for the word “your.” Sure, it can fill in as “you’re,” the contraction of “you are,” even though, ironically, when read aloud it actually becomes two words instead of one.
Of course, most people are too retarded to know the difference between “your” and “you’re” anyway (to say nothing of “yore”), so I guess my point is moot.
*Sigh* It doesn’t really matter anyway. I mean, the world doesn’t really belong to me, it belongs to all of the illiterate text messaging monkeys out there.
And as far as I’m concerned, they can have it.
So thr u go: itz al urs.
On a slightly more serious note, back when I took that Web 2.0 class one of the things that was talked about was the emergence of mobile devices and how they are becoming the preferred method for accessing the Web.
I just don’t get that. Sure, in a pinch being able to access the Web with your cell phone is great. But the preferred method? Why? No matter how many gee-whiz features you build into a cell phone, accessing the Web on a mobile device will always be an inferior experience to doing so on a full-fledged computer.
What’s the point of having access to full-motion HD video if you’re only going to watch it on a 2 inch screen?
As I was listening to the guy talking about tiny mobile devices that allow you to see 1/10th of a Web page at a time and how great that is in comparison to having a 22 inch widescreen LCD monitor at home, I couldn’t help but think about how this is really just a repackaging of an idea that’s been around for a long time.
Specifically, the death of the home computer.
People have been predicting/calling for this for as long as I can remember. The focus for the future is always on eliminating the computer (and especially local storage, but that may very well be a topic for another day). Why? What do we gain by eliminating the home computer?
I can tell you that there’s never going to come a point at which there’s a mobile device that is not essentially a laptop computer of some sort, that will allow me to do everything that a home computer does.
Personally, I’ve always been a proponent of dockable devices, small, portable computers that can perform all essential functions on their own, but can then be plugged into some sort of cradles that extend their capabilities, giving them access to bigger screens, full-size keyboards, etc.
That makes more sense to me that trying to completely replace the computer with a cell phone.
But, again, I’m probably just showing my age, and maybe someday I will actually eschew my home computer in favor of a wristwatch that lets me listen to mp3s, watch HD video, send text messages, do my taxes, blog, take and edit pictures and video, write a novel, watch porn, share files, shop, and cook a turkey.
Of course, it probably won’t tell time…unless you pay extra.

????

While looking at Lena Headey's IMDb entry, I found this.
Anyone out there know anything more about it (what channel, when it will air, etc.)?

Three Hundred (Counting These) Words About 300

So I went to see 300 today.
As I was certain I would, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
But historical accuracy? Not so much.
The same was true of the comics, but accuracy was never the point. The point is to tell a a good story, and to make it an overwhelming assault on your senses that leaves you dizzy and breathless. It’s not as faithful to Miller’s style as Sin City, but it is darkly humorous, macho, and unflinchingly and stylishly violent and quintessentially Miller.
Some critics faulted it for its machismo, but it’s a movie about Spartans for Christ’s sake: of course it’s going to be macho! You were expecting maybe a chick flick?
While the movie doesn’t aspire to be much more than an action-packed chest thumping epic, it does have some great non-action scenes, mostly focusing on Queen Gorgo, played by actress Lena Headey, who manages to look very hot despite the fact that the grainy, washed-out colors that recreate the look of the books aren’t exactly flattering to the skin.
One of the queen’s best moments actually happened off-screen in the audience.
On-screen, after being betrayed by the corrupt Theron (Dominic West) in front of the assembled Spartan Council, she hauls off and slaps him hard across the face. So hard, in fact, that it elicited a loud and shocked “Ohhh!” from some guy in the audience.
Like many others in the audience, I found it hilarious that following on the heels of scenes of stunning violence that involved severed heads and limbs it was a relatively innocuous action that provoked a gasp.
I don’t want to provide any major spoilers (history does that), but I did want to use three hundred words to say that 300 kicked ass.

Your Guess May Be Even Better Than Mine

I see things.
Kind of.
I don't mean to suggest that I hallucinate or that I see things that aren't there - though I guess I do sort of see things that aren't there.
In any case, my point is that while I don't have "visions" in a fashion that would suggest any sort of mental illness and/or religious revelation, the fact of the matter is that when I look at the world around me I see things that other people may not.
Basically it's akin to looking up at a cloud and thinking, "Hey, that looks like..." or the sort of creative impulse that led people to look up at the stars and see constellations.
The difference is that I see shapes and patterns everywhere: in the grain of a piece of wood, in the swirls of dust on my car, in the folds of the fabric of a shirt carelessly tossed on the floor, etc. Everywhere I look I see something.
Even when I close my eyes I see images in the patterns made by the fading afterimages of whatever object I had been looking at.
And what do I see? Anything, really. Faces, shapes, buildings, animals. I'm not entirely sure what process determines what I "see," though my subconscious would seem to be the obvious source, particularly given that my mood can influence what I see, and that sometimes there seems to be a "theme," like the time I saw dragons everywhere I looked.
I used to actually put the images I saw to use. For example, one image I saw in the marble tiles of the floor at a building I was going to class in back in college led to the ideas for four separate comic book series (which, of course, I never did anything with).
I usually don't try to draw them because they tend to be sort of fleeting and are often impermanent (the nap of a carpet changes and I no longer see what I once did, for example).
Besides, given the wide variety of things that I see, they seldom tend to be the sort of things I like to draw (hot chicks).
However, last night as I was closing my eyes after getting into bed I saw something behind my eyelids that managed to imprint itself in my mind's eye, and so I had to try to recreate it.
And here it is:



What is it and what does it mean? I haven't the faintest idea (though I named it after a Nick Cave album because it seemed appropriate).
But there it is. Make of it what you will.

The Times They Have A-Changed

So the time change has already happened.
This is the first time in four years that it hasn’t really affected me. On my old Friday-Sunday shift, I would have had to go in to work Sunday morning with an hour less of sleep. Not so with the Thursday-Saturday shift.
Of course, one drawback to this shift is that my days off seem to fly past even faster than they did on the old schedule. I’m not entirely sure why that is.
I guess it’s just because I just don’t do anything on Sunday, so being a wasted day, it just slips past in a hurry, whereas on the old shift I did all of my shopping and whatnot on Monday when it was my first day off, rather than totally wasting it.
That’s my theory, anyway.
Speaking of wasting my Sunday, I was invited over to Jamie and Casey’s house tonight for “movie night” for the opportunity to watch X-Men on Blu-Ray.
I’ve seen the movie often enough that the prospect of seeing it in high def isn’t that enticing. Also, it would interfere with my Sunday night TV, which isn’t really that big of a deal, but the biggest problem was that it would have involved doing something on a Sunday, and for whatever reason, I have a really hard time bringing myself to do that.
Seriously, I don’t even shower or get properly dressed. I totally waste the day.
(Even when I don’t go anywhere on my other days off, I still at least take a shower. Not so Sunday.)
In yesterday’s mail I got a rather baffling letter from Sprint talking about how one of the great benefits of working for Stanley Steemer is the fact that employees get a significant discount on Sprint wireless services, but that an error had resulted in employees receiving a much larger discount than they were supposed to their last statement.
Given that I don’t actually work for Stanley Steemer (despite the fact that there is someone at work named Stanley whom I often refer to as being tough on dirt, gentle on carpets), I wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with me, especially considering that my last statement had been normal, reflecting the discount I do get as an employee of the company I actually work for, so I gave them a call to make sure that, I wouldn’t be getting double-billed in April the way the poor schmucks at Stanley Steemer will be.
Turns out I wasn’t the only non-Steemer to get the letter, as apparently the errors didn’t stop at just not billing them enough this month.

Even Though No One Cares Department:
I know that most of my five or so regular readers don’t given one shit about comics, let alone two, but I still feel the need to talk about them here, so I’m going to briefly mention my feelings about the fact that in last week’s issue of his series Captain America died after being shot by a sniper.
Having just read the actual issue, my feelings are now, after the initial shock, the same as they were after I learned that it had happened: mixed.
The cardinal rule with the death of a comic book character is that it will never last. Death in comics is almost never permanent.
So am I worried that we’ll never see Steve Rogers again? Not really. Even if the actual intention of everyone involved is that he’s dead and will remain dead, that can, and no doubt will, change.
However, I am upset that it happened not simply because it happened, but because it was pretty much the only logical outcome of the current state of affairs in the Marvel Universe, a state of affairs I’m not particularly fond of or pleased with.
The only thing that keeps my feelings about this from being squarely on the negative side of the fence is that the story is being handled by Ed Brubaker – who, ironically, I had just showered with praise here on Wednesday, the same day the issue hit newsstands, before learning about the death.
As I said, Cap’s death fits squarely with the current status quo of the Marvel Universe, and that, more than anything, is the problem. Nothing about the current state of the MU seems conducive to producing good stories unless those stories come from supremely talented creators like Brubaker, and, quite frankly, Marvel just doesn’t have that kind of talent pool.
The whole idea behind bringing the MU to its current state is to try to make it more like “the real world,” which I think is, quite frankly, silly, and will ultimately lead to the problem known as the uncanny valley. The notion first came up in the field of robotics, but can be applied to any endeavor that tries, in some fashion, to imitate life.
Basically, as you get and closer to creating an approximation of life eventually you reach a point, called the uncanny valley, at which what had seemed previously seemed relatable becomes alien and repulsive.
So in many ways the MU seems like the real world, but there is something about it that just doesn’t feel right, in a way that wouldn’t be a problem if it were just slightly more removed from the real world.
(Honestly, I think that the uncanny valley effect is what kept me from ever really getting into Seinfeld. The people on the show sort of looked, acted, and talked like real people, kind of, but there was something just not right about them. Something alien and repulsive.)
Ultimately, though, my real problem with the death of Cap and the current state of the MU is that the MU has become a place in which someone like Cap can only be viewed as “quaint” or a “relic,” and has to be gotten rid of because he just no longer has a place.
A world in which someone who believes in things like freedom, a government for the people and by the people, and standing up for what’s right in the face of tyranny is an amusing throwback and an embarrassment that needs to be gotten rid of is one that I have a hard enough time living in, and certainly isn’t a world that I want to read about and imaginatively escape to.
So there’s my take on it.
On other comic-related fronts, there’s an article here about the casting of a Watchmen movie that asks for people to contribute their thoughts on who should be in the cast (it also includes a link to a publicity still of Rorschach created by the director to try to drum up studio interest in the project).
Here’s who I think should be in the cast: no one.
As tantalizing s that image of Rorschach is, I just don’t think a movie should be made (particularly given some of the really scary rumors about casting mentioned in the article). I think that even the best-intentioned creative team would not be able to put together a movie that is anything other than a pale imitation of the source material or that does anything other than insult its fans. It’s just too big and too complex to be translated to another medium.
So there’s my take on that, too.

I suppose that’s enough rambling on about stuff that only Scott is likely to care about (and which he already knows because we talk about this crap all the time anyway), and since I have nothing else to talk about, that makes this a good point at which to just shut the hell up entirely.