What's Making Me Happy This Week

Duck Amuck
On this week's Pop Culture Happy Hour they talk about things going meta--TV shows, movies, books, etc. that comment on themselves. Glen Wheldon (I think it was Glen, not Trey) mentioned the Looney Toones cartoon, Duck Amuck as an example of something breaking that fourth wall. I remember seeing Duck Amuck as a kid and it Blew. My. Mind. Completely. It is still one of my favorite cartoons ever.

End of Summer Week Off

While everyone else in the academic world is starting their fall semester, we are just finishing the summer session. We are now in intersession; fall classes start the end of September.

I normally take a week off in September. This is when I head back to the Midwest for beer and football, but I'm not going this year. Why? The Packers are playing in Seattle so my football-going friend from Wisconsin is coming out here and we, along with another friend, are going to the Monday Night Football game in Seattle next month. Look for me on TV.

But, I still wanted a week off. It's been a busy summer and it will be an even busier fall. I wanted a week off for doing my favorite thing: Whatever I want.

What did I do? Not much of anything.

• I slept in. I stayed up late. 
• I knit.
• I did do some catch-up work. I really didn't want to, but I needed to get some things done because, well, it needed to get done. But I did it in a coffee shop at my own speed. 
• I saw The Campaign. It was okay. I expected more. 
• I saw Moonrise Kingdom. It was spectacular. It was so weirdly sweet and endearing and wonderful that I just wanted to give it a big hug. I loved it.
• I read Andy Cohen's book Most Talkative: Stories from the Front Lines of Pop Culture. I cried when he talked about coming out. It reminded me of when one of my best friends came out to me while we were in college. 

While killing time before seeing The Campaign, a friend and I spent some time in a Tuesday Morning. I haven't been to one since I left Ye Olde College Town, where, until a Belk moved in, it was the only decent place in town to shop that wasn't WalMart. And at Tuesday Morning I bought two mugs that just made my entire week:

"Vintage" Kermit and Fozzy mugs.
"Vintage" because they're marked with the Disney logo on the bottom. 

I bought these with the intention of sending one to BFF, since we both love The Muppets. I texted her the picture, and I got the equivalent of a squeal via text (including an "OMFG"). I realized they were pretty much a set. This morning I went back to Tuesday Morning and bought two more for BFF.

I have to admit, one of my favorite things this week was simply cuddling with the cat. I suppose that makes me, well, a librarian, but he's become such a wonderfully cuddly cat with a surprising amount of energy. I did take the cat to the vet for his semi-annual check up (I guess they go in every six months once they hit a certain age) and he he needed some vaccine boosters. He's fine. Fat and surprisingly healthy. He has a bump on his head, but the vet said just to watch it. However, she said most bumps on cats are benign. Then he bit the vet when she gave him a shot.

So, really, other than working for a day and a half, I spent my week doing nothing. Thing is, I could really use another week of doing nothing. I really kind of like it.

What's Making Me Happy This Week: Appreciation Day

What's Appreciation Day, you ask? It's a day when "each and every world citizen takes the time to say the nicest possible thing to each of the treasured people who surround us." This came from the mind of Stephen Thompson, NPR Music dude and Pop Culture Happy Hour contributor. It's simple: Say something sincere about people in your life.

Much of this is going on in the Twitterverse and you can follow it here: #AppreciationDay. And you know what? It's pretty fucking awesome. I sent out a few tweets. They were haphazard but heart felt. And I admit I felt a little silly at first, but the responses I got from were so great, I sent a few more. And then I wished I would've had more time to send more out. Or that more people I'd like to appreciate were on Twitter.

But I have to admit, seeing people Tweet such heartfelt thanks and appreciation to people in their lives, makes my cold, cynical heart grow a few sizes.

So, to all four of you who read my blog: Thanks for coming along for the ride. Most of you have been part of my life since I started the blog, and my life wouldn't be what it is now without you in it.

Whitney

It's not like I was a huge Whitney Houston fan or anything, but there is no denying that her music was a huge part of my teens. How could it not be? Mtv was the center of so many things, and Whitney had an amazingly powerful voice and was everywhere. You could not deny her talent. You could not help but stop and listen to her. She was mesmerizing.



Even in my later teens when I turned away from pop music, songs like I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) were hard not to like. Why? Because that voice.



As I said once, she may not sing music I like, but holy shit does she have a voice.

Much has been written about her ties to gospel music through her mom, Cissy Houston. This is the thing: I love gospel music. Love it. It makes me cry. It makes me want to cheer. It give me chills. Here's the other thing: I don't believe in god. Any god. But gospel music? It amazes me. It's the emotion that gets me. It's so deep and so heartfelt. Whitney Houston had that gospel voice. It was so clear and pure and heartfelt. I think that is what I liked about it. I think that's what we all liked about it.



It's all over the interwebs right now, of course, that Whitney Houston died at the age of 48. Cause and location were not released. [Edit: She died in Beverly Hills.] Given her history of drug abuse, I think it's pretty safe to say that if her death wasn't directly related to drug us, it was the long-term use of drugs that ravaged her body that led to whatever killed her.

Her voice hasn't been what it was for years. And while her death is a shock, once you think about it, it probably isn't a surprise. We've all been watching this happening, slowly.

RIP, Whitney. Such a talent.

Total Train Wreck.... Please make it happen. Please.

Seriously, someone should give Courtney Love a reality show.

I would totally watch it. Because she is good at mentoring young girls. Yeah, she said that.

Please, please, please... give her a reality show. I'm begging.

via The Onion's AV Club and Best Week Ever.

Project Runway: Really? I mean... REALLY?

The Project Runway finale? What the fuck? Unfortunately, living on the West Coast, I often find out the winner of these various reality things before I actually get to watch them. I can go into a self-imposed media black-out, yet I still find out. So, I didn't have the same shock that everyone else did when they watched the finale, because I already knew who won. But still... What the fuck?

Gretchen? There isn't anything I can say that hasn't already been said on Facebook, Twitter, or an other pop-culture blog, but Gretchen is a horrible person. And her line? I didn't think there was enough hemp in the world to produce that much shitty clothing. Sure, throw some dreads on those models (and about fifty pounds) and you have half of the student body at my university (the other half would be wearing Mondo's clothes while sporting blue curly hair and a bowler hat). I adore our dreadlocked students but that doesn't mean I want to dress like them.

Ugh. Just ugh. I enjoyed this season for many reasons, and one of those reasons was Mondo and his originality. I'm not going to declare I will never watch Project Runway again, but maybe it is time to find new judges. I'm thinking that Michael and Nina have just gotten old. And boring.

Former finalist Laura Bennett had a great take on the whole thing: Team Gretchen Now Accepting Applications.

I found Bennett's post over at the Best Week Ever recap of the Project Runway finale.

And, yes, I know there are much more important things going on this world than the finale of a reality show, but right now, I just don't feel like thinking about them.

Lennon

John Lennon would be 70 today. It's news that is hard to miss. His birthday has been covered extensively in the news.

Seventy. He was killed when he was 40. It's hard to imagine him any older. He will forever be the age I am now. On Weekend Edition Saturday, they spoke to David Sheff, the reporter from Playboy who spent three weeks with Lennon and Yoko Ono in August 1980--just a few months before Lennon was murdered.

It was fascinating. Sheff's interviews were turned into a book and are now being released as an ebook. You can hear the full piece as well as parts of Sheff's interview at the link above. But it was the part of the piece where Sheff talked about Lennon's view towards the past and the future that I found most interesting. " 'I don't believe in yesterday,' Sheff says, quoting Lennon. 'Life begins at 40, or so they promise. And I believe in what's going to come.' "

This struck me for several reasons (other than the obvious, since he would be gunned down in a few months). I'm 40. I stressed over turning 40 because of the things that I haven't done... or maybe it's more accurate to say the things I am supposed to have done. But, like most societal expectations, I'm beginning to realize they're bullshit. And, you know what, Lennon's right: Life does begin at 40. Life begins at whatever point you are at right now. There's a reason this really struck me, but it relates to one of the few things I won't write about on this blog.

This comment also made me start thinking about music in general. I don't know what the music world would be like if Lennon were still alive. But I am fairly sure he would have kept evolving, changing, growing, and producing amazing material. And while I don't know what the music world would be like if he had lived, I do know how great it is because he was part of it.

I was ten when Lennon was killed. I don't remember the announcement on Monday Night Football, but I remember the report of it the following morning on the Today show. Thing is, I didn't know who John Lennon was. I knew who John of John, Paul, George, and Ringo was, but I didn't know his full name. (He was my favorite Beatle, by the way.) A few months prior to all this, I remember dancing around a friend's living room to her Mom's Beatles records. When I realized who John Lennon was, I knew his death was A Very Big Deal.

It was also when I realized the power of music. Music wasn't something to merely entertain, to passively listen to. It affected people in a deeply personal way. It was a major force. And during the weeks after Lennon's death, his song "(Just Like) Starting Over" was on heavy rotation. But it was the song "Watching the Wheels" that I really connected with. It was the first song I remember that really moved me. It was the first song that had meaning to me. I couldn't get enough of it. It is still a song that I love and adore. Obviously, it is a song that is personal to Lennon, he had spent five years being a "househusband," raising his son Sean, baking bread, and just being. And loving it. It's also a reminder to slow down and to enjoy life. When I hear this song, all of a sudden, I am ten years old, standing on the basement steps of my former-stepdad's house, hearing this come over the radio. I'm just standing and all of a sudden I got it--it was the first grown-up song that I remember really getting.



I can't choose a favorite Lennon song. Not from The Beatles nor from his solo work. When I traveled to West Germany to visit my host family over Christmas in 1987, his compilation album Shaved Fish was in my personal heavy rotation. The next to be in heavy rotation was The Beatles' White Album. By the time I was half-way through college I had almost the entire Beatles catalog on vinyl. Interestingly enough, I only have a few on CD.

I'm not even going to try to list which songs make up my top Beatles/Lennon song list, because I'm not sure I could. But "In My Life" has always been one of my favorites. The first verse is, in my opinion, one of the best examples of songwriting to ever exist.

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all



So here's to you, Mr. Lennon. There is no doubt you knew how many people's live you touched, but this is my thank you to you. You taught me to appreciate and love music. Like a few of the other pop culture legends I have mentioned on this blog, you changed my life--probably more than any other.

Kathy Griffin

Kathy Griffin: Sold out, motherfuckers

I saw Kathy Griffin in Seattle last night. How was it? Awesome.

I had written a long post about the day and the crowd (the gayest I have seen in a very long time). About how much I respect her (I do). How hard it was to watch the third season of My Life on the D List because it aired the year after my dad died and I really empathized with her. How much I loved her book and appreciate her honesty (her honesty towards everything: her family, women in Hollywood, politics, celebrity). I should also say I was surprised by my reaction to her when she walked out on stage: I threw my arms up and screamed. Like a schoolgirl.

I had this all typed up and then Firefox froze up. So, instead, here are a couple of pictures.

Waiting for Kathy. The Paramount was a gorgeous theatre. But like the drink I had before I got to the theatre, the Paramount bartender forgot to put alcohol in my fancy red drink.

Blurry image of Kathy

Another blurry picture of Kathy. We were in the second mezzanine... so, yeah.

Oh, and afterwards, we swung by a Starbucks to get coffee so the person driving could get some caffeine for the drive home. We saw these girls dressed in Little Bo Peep dresses. I found out later (after posting the pic to Facebook) that they were dressed in the Japanese Lolita style. I couldn't stop staring at them. I understand subculture and all, but these girls didn't have on the funky makeup often associated with some Japanese fashion. Without that makeup, these girls just looked like a pedophile's fantasy.

Pop Culture

I love pop culture. I love music, TV, films (even though I am extremely lazy about watching movies), and all around pop-culture trash.

I watch and follow pop culture because I like it and find it entertaining. But I also thinks it says a lot about us--some good and some bad.

Something I find fascinating is the difference between the US and Canadian versions of the same shows.

Take American Idol and Canadian Idol.

American Idol
Contestants are pigeonholed early on: the rocker, the diva, the R&Ber, the singer-songwriter, etc. The only contestant they weren't able to pigeonhole was Adam Lambert. But all the other ones? Done. This moves into their clothes, the style of the arrangements, what the judges expect form them, etc. Judges like Simon Cowell tell the contestants right out: You don't look like an American Idol. People criticize him or boo or whatever. But you know what? He's right. We are an image-conscious society. We need everything in a neat little box before we will accept it. I'd like to think that I am different than that, that I am not that shallow... But, well, I'm not. I don't think I am as spoon-fed as some... but I am. I watch a lot of TV, so I think it is kind of a given.

Anyway... then there is Canadian Idol.

Canadian Idol wasn't on this year, and I didn't watch all of the season in 2008, but it was so different. The contestants weren't as polished in look or sound. Several of them were indescribable. One guy was the big ballad crooner. He won. But the other final four? One guy had an odd little voice. If he were to be labeled something it would be the singer-songwriter. When he sang songs they were like stories. He and his odd little voice were often compared to Paul Simon. He didn't sound so much like Simon, but I could see the similarity in style. Another guy would be the Rocker. But he was different. I would label him as more of the garage rocker, like he should have been in The Strokes or one of those other garage-rock-revival bands. The other guy? He could barely sing, but you couldn't stop watching him. He stomped around the stage with what looked like no rhythm. If he tried out on American Idol he would have been on the gag reel. But he was fascinating. I couldn't figure out what people saw in him until one of the judges compared him to Tom Waits. And then it all made sense.

My point? (And I do have one.) The Canadian Idol guys were so very different than anything you'd see on American Idol. They weren't as polished in look or image. They were unique, where those on American Idol seemed to all merge together by the end of the show (except this last season and maybe the one before that). But, also, the more traditional contestants? They were voted off by the viewers. Now the guy who won was the traditional belter of ballads, but he was incredibly talented. But the others that went to the top with him were far from traditional.

Why do I care? Because I wonder how much this represents the difference between Canadians and Americans. Now, I'm not saying that the guys on Canadian Idol were perfect or totally genuine and not mainstream or whatever. But what I want to know is were they molded into specific "types," too? What are they? And how are the Canadian types different than the American types.

So, yes, I love pop culture because it's fun and dumb and it allows me to be catty and judgmental. But I am also interested in the difference between American pop culture and the pop culture of other countries and how it represents the difference in the societies.

What brought this all on? Some day, I want to go to the National Popular Culture & American Culture Conference. Seriously.

Partly because I am interested in the topic. But part of me wants to know if this is where all the academics who don't fit into the "I don't own a TV" academic mould go. Is this a conference of Gen Xers, moping around because the Boomers and their kids STILL get all the attention? And do they remedy this by standing around quoting John Hughes' movies complaining about how the other academics hate them? Will they then smoke some weed, go through each others purses and wallets, and dance in the library?

John Hughes Changed my Life

He did.

I was fifteen. I was sitting in the movie theatre at College Square Mall with some friends--I don't remember who--waiting for a movie to start. And then this quote came up on a black screen:

.....and these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultation. They’re quite aware what they’re going through.”- David Bowie.

And I thought, "Yes. Yes, we are." And then The Breakfast Club started. I remember every single thing about it. I still do. I can quote it. I can repeat the lines as the movie is playing. I fell in love with John Bender (Judd Nelson). I wanted to be a mix of both Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy. And at the end of the film my life was different.



It's not that I had an big revelations. I wasn't exposed to new ideas or concepts. Why was my life changed? Because finally, finally, someone understood what I, no, what we were going through. The Breakfast Club was a spot on depiction of my high school. And I hated my high school.

The stupidness. The drama. The bullshit. It wasn't a movie of good girl gone bad or bad girl gone good. The Breakfast Club portrayed high school perfectly: "Each one of us is a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal..." We were. Yet it felt like no one was willing to recognize that. Now, I know... most teenagers feel this way, but no one until John Hughes was able to accurately portray that on film.

But, even more--and better--The Breakfast Club showed these kids, the brain, the athlete, the basket case, the princess, and the criminal, becoming almost-friends. That wasn't what made it so great. What made it an honest and real portrayal of high school was the acknowledgment of what would happen on Monday when they all went back to school: nothing. Would they be friends on Monday? No. Do I think Claire and John would have made it as a couple? No. They would all go back to their cliques, because that's the way it was. We all knew that. And John Hughes got it.

No one, and I mean no one, of my generation can ever hear the name Claire without saying, "Claire? That's a fat girl's name." (Claire: "I'm not fat." Bender: "Not now ... but I can see you really pushing maximum density...")

Then there were the other John Hughes movies that defined my teens: 16 Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Pretty in Pink... And the quotes:

"Cameron's so tight, if you stuck a piece of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond" (Ferris)

"When Cameron was in Egypt's Land.... Let my Cameron go..." (Ferris)

"You wear too much eye makeup. My sister wears too much. People think she's a whore. " (Ferris, more here)

"I really love Rudy. He is totally enamored of me. I mean, I've had other men love me before, but not for six months in a row. " (16 Candles)

"Oooooh Seeeexy giiiirlfriend" (16 Candles, more here)

And the characters: Farmer Ted, Long Duk Dong, Sam's Grandparents, Scoliosis Girl (Sweet Pickles and I bonded over our love of Scoliosis Girl).... and Ducky.

The debate of Ducky vs Blaine can still bring Gen Xers to their feet in a screaming match. (Ducky, dammit. DUCKY.)

So, today, I mourn John Hughes. And my teen years.

RIP, John. You influenced an entire generation.

Sweet Pickles and Oxford Film Freak have excellent tributes, too.