I'm Yes Then I'm No: Why I Can't Make Up About Katy Perry

When Katy Perry first broke out on pop radio and MTV with "I Kissed a Girl," she instantly became a very popular topic of conversation among furious mothers and curious daughters.  She took everyone by surprise - most of all, Jill Sobule (you may need to google the reference).  When I first heard people talking about the song, I had to ask if it was a cover.  Everyone seemed kind of confused by the question.  "What's this about another song called 'I Kissed a Girl' and more importantly, how in the hell do you not know all about Katy Perry?" To me, Perry's first big hit sounded just like another over-the-top pop song about sexuality designed to evoke the standard contrived "controversy" that helps send a single to the top of the Billboard charts.

And just like with all of those other songs and artists, I took little notice.  But Katy just kept on coming back with more standard pop singles, a couple of which I actually kind of enjoy (with a hefty dose of guilt).  But what attracts me to Miss Perry isn't in the music.  She somehow balances the sweet and innocent girl-next-door from her Pro-Activ ads with the hyper-sexual "California Gurl."  She's managed to throw in a little bit of something for everyone:  some sex for the boys, catchy songs for the girls, and enough of a sweetheart smile to take the edge off for mom and dad.

I hadn't given her much thought at all until the recent Sesame Street "scandal."  Katy appeared in a musical segment with Elmo that was pulled from the show for being inappropriate, due to her wardrobe decisions.  Whether or not the piece was actually suitable for children is up to their parents, I suppose, or, that failing, the FCC and a handful of "watchdogs" that will bark at damn near anything so long as you pay attention to them.  I personally enjoyed the video quite a bit, but that doesn't mean that I wanted to.  It only made me even more torn.  I'm not much of a fan of the Katy that kissed a girl and liked it, but I can't help adoring the Katy that worries about breakouts and plays dress up with Elmo.  It's not that I really like Katy Perry.  She just makes it so damn hard not to.

The Fallacy of Facial Tissue

After posting my first blog last week, I've been considering the nomenclature of common kitchen items and toiletries more than can possibly considered normal.  Let's face it, I crossed that line before I ever even published that first post.  But from these abnormal thoughts and a series of conversations with friends and coworkers came a realization:   Facial tissues have been named in a terribly inaccurate manner.  Here I present a pie chart of figures which I have made up myself, but am certain are pretty accurate.

From this we can see that while a large percentage of "facial tissues" are used for appropriate purposes such as nose cleaning, the overwhelming majority are used other ways.  Masturbation is not surprisingly the most common way that tissues are put to use, with a whopping 32%.  However, it is not likely that you will be seeing Puffs or Kleenex brand "Masturbation Tissues" hitting the shelves of your local supermarket.

Despite the number of tissues used for containing the spills of self-gratification, few would argue against its use as emergency toilet paper as one of its most essential functions.  They don't typically serve the purpose as well as toilet paper, but no other option offers the unique combination of availability and flushability that is essential in a backup solution to such a potentially disastrous problem.  They offer similar results in less urgent situations as napkin substitutes and show their tougher utilitarian side when relocating an unwelcome arachnid to the toilet, trashcan, or in more humane cases - the bushes outside.  The remaining 13% perform an array of essential functions including creating pocket fuzz in washing machines, plugging holes in window screens, and stuffing preteen bras. Given that 71% of all the tissues in question are used as anything but facial tissues, I feel that a more appropriate title ought to be given to them.  I, for one, will be pushing for "utility tissues."  Don't worry.  I don't expect this movement to ever really take off.  Even if they were to become universally sold as utility tissues, you would still just call them kleenexes.

Hollywood: From Dream Factory to Dream Recycling Plant

The average person produces anywhere from seven to ten original ideas every week, upwards of 520 ideas in a single year.  Few people ever consider the impact that all of these ideas are having on the global infosphere and sadly, while thousands of people are using home tap water filters to reduce the number of plastic bottles in our landfills, Britta has yet to create an effective thought filtration system that can do the same for ideas.

Fortunately, one town is doing its part to minimize thought pollution by giving new life to old ideas - Hollywood.  The film industry was once one of the largest producers of mind-clouding idea production, regularly creating original characters, plots, and dialog in an alleged "Golden Age" for the business.  The sheer volume of production only increased in the decades that followed, eventually culminating in a cacophony of concepts with several new pictures being released each week.  But this once indifferent industry is now fast becoming a prime example of reform, reusing and recycling the original intellectual artifacts of yesteryear (or in some cases, even yesterday) in a slew of sequels, prequels, franchise resurrections, adaptations, remakes, and re-imaginings.

Of course, without personal accountability such movements cannot be expected to take hold.  Big-Time Hollywood  players like Eddie Murphy are largely responsible for bringing the cause to the forefront.  Murphy pushed the envelope by making the first-ever sequel to a remake of re-imagined adaptation.  That is: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde begot The Nutty Professor [1963] begot The Nutty Professor [1996] begot The Nutty Professor II: The Klumps.  Whew. Herc-uh-leeees, indeed.  Mr. Murphy also accomplished a similar feat with the Dr. Doolittle franchise annnnnd has announced plans for - drumroll please - both a THIRD installment in the Nutty Professor saga as well as a fourth Beverly Hills Cop movie.  

Some would argue that supporting this admirable trend encourages the creation of inferior products, similar to the way that some paper and plastics tend to degrade after being recycled.  Opponents of Hollywood's recycling program may not be entirely unjustified in their complaints.  They often cite such outstanding examples as Blues Brothers 2000, Grease 2, and the Joel Schumacher travesty, Batman & Robin.  While these examples of poorly recycled materials cannot be ignored, one must also consider the hope that constant advances in technology will help bring about sustainability just as more traditional means of recycling have for aluminum and drinking water.  

One prime example of the exciting things to come is the new 3-D film, Resident Evil: Afterlife.  This thrilling update of the "Parent Trap," franchise has shattered the perceived limitations of film recycling.  In the film, Milla Jovovich steps into the role (or rather roles) originally filled by Hayley Mills, and later by Lindsay Lohan.  Mila and her doubles fight throngs of the undead and various other monsters for the attention of the "parent" company, the Umbrella Corporation.  While the special effects haven't become much more convincing since the 1961 original, the addition of the undead ironically breathes new life into a franchise that few would have thought to be worth reviving only a few years ago.  If this is what audiences have to look forward to, then I hope to see a lot more of this in the near future.

p.s. -  I made that logo. I was pretty proud.

q-tips, kleenexes, and cokes.

Shopping lists across the country are full of brand-name misnomers.  In my childhood home, a person in need of a tissue seldom requested anything but a "kleenex," despite the fact that Kleenex brand tissues never once occupied our coffee tables or nightstands.  Thirsty people across the southern United States frequently ask for a "coke," when all that they really want is a soft drink of some kind.  Dixie cups, Saran Wrap, and Ziplock bags all enjoy a similar fame.  I'm not sure how a product achieves such a status that its brand name completely overtakes those of all similar products.  It's like some kind of dialectical White-Out, or correctional fluid, I guess. However, most people think nothing of buying "facial tissues," or "kitchen zipper bags," and most of the time the product package is the only notable difference.  I mean, when was the last time you called an adhesive bandage anything other than a Band-Aid? And more importantly, when was the last time it mattered to your bleeding cut whether or not it came from a Johnson & Johnson Band-Aid box?

But there is one product that undoubtedly deserves the definitive name dominance that it has received:  The Q-tip.  I refuse to purchase any sort of inferior generic cotton swab - and in my experience, they are all inferior. They are not simply generic alternatives to Q-tips.  They are an entirely different product with an entirely different set of uses which are more or less limited to scratching your ear drum and filling your trash can with three times as many swabs as you would be using if you just bought Q-tips in the first place.

Too many times have I been stabbed in the ear by a flimsy piece of plastic with some whispered suggestion of cotton at the tip.  Trying to clean your ears with one of these alleged "swabs" is like poking a coffee stir into your ear canal.  In fact, if you're that desperate to save the money, it would probably be cheaper (and just as effective) to buy the coffee stirs.  Better yet, you could snatch them by the handful from you local convenience store. For heavier duty cleaning, you might be better off using one of those crossbred spoon-straws that are necessary for enjoying an Icee, or Slushie, or Slurpie, or... whatever frozen beverage you choose.