Reviews of the Ignorant: Thanking the Academy Edition

Well, here we are folks, back for the 1st Annual 2008 Academy Awards ignorant review. I'd like to thank the dancing Snow Whites for that beautiful musical number based on the score for "3:10 to Yuma" (Yuma? Ima. Ima. Uma.). Considering that I have not seen any of the best picture nominees, or any of the nominees for best actor, best actress, best supporting actor, best supporting actress, or best director (not to mention best art direction, best costume design, best foreign language film, or best short live action or animated, or best adapted screenplay), I feel I am particularly ignorant in my comments on the upcoming awards ceremony. (I will mention that I do have a solid pick in sound editing, which would be a film sadly overlooked for best picture, or at least best picture based on a line of toys: "Transformers". Those "whrrrr-rrrr-rrreet!" sounds of the robots changing into GM vehicles make this a shoe-in. If there was a category for best ass-kicking robots, I think we all know what film's name would be in that envelope.) However, I sit down to write this with a heavy heart. This is not only due to the fact that I just ate an entire bowl of Bac-O's covered in blue cheese dressing. It is also because, well, when it comes to these awards, no real person outside of LA or parts of New York, including me, really cares.

Now don't get me wrong, here. I know, I know, ABC has told us again and again that this is the most important thing on television in the month of February, and we should all be grateful that the writer's strike has ended so that we can again hear excruciatingly lame jokes while dozing off to excruciatingly boring acceptance speeches. In fact, if you go to the "Official" website, you can see that you only have to wait 2 days 19:19:54 (...now 52...now 47...) before your dull, grey life is visited by the gold-plated Ken doll of filmatic honor. And I appreciate a great film, which, of course, I define as having one or more of the following: 1) running time of less than 90 minutes, B) explosions, robots, and/or exploding robots, III) Jennifer Connelly, 4th) the ability to transport you and teach you to see something in your own life differently. And there are a lot of great films that have that. Heck, some of the films nominated for an Oscar may even have one or more of these things (although I, shamefully, do not see a "Jennifer" + a "Connelly" listed anywhere. I'm going to assume this is just a result of the writer's strike preventing her name from being written.) So, yeah, run with it and honor them, Hollywood. More power to you.

I also understand the need, in the wet winter month between the Super Bowl and March Madness, to find something to, shall we say, place gentlemanly wagers on. I'm all for gentlemanly wagers. To assist with that, I have provided a comprehensive list of the guaranteed winners in the following post (and, of course, by 'guaranteed' I mean 'not guaranteed'). So wager away, gentleman. Just save a few dollars for March.

No, my ennui, as they would say in "Les Mozart Des Pickpockets", one of the films nominated for Best Live Action Short Film, is based primarily on the self-importance of the whole thing. When it comes down to it, no one really cares about Best Swollen Forehead Visual Effect or Best Costume That Allows Boobs to Be Visible But Still Covered Enough for a PG-13 or even Best Picture. Life goes on. Yet we are told repeatedly by all media that this is equal to the war that I think is still going on in Iraq, even though I haven't seen any news on it for a few months, or the 2008 Presidential Election. We are provided with ballots to make our own picks, bombarded with dresses and "red carpet" critiques, even treated to a second by second countdown via the website (now 2 days, 19:01:35...32...28...) All of this is overkill, and relates very little to the real life of the people in flyover country.

Every quarter, my place of employment calls all employees who haven't called in sick that day down to the cafeteria where a few of our number are called up to the podium and recognized for some accomplishment or other (as in "Best Excuse for Calling in Sick" or "Most Creative Use of the Copier") While these employees don't get to give an acceptance speech (in fact, they usually just look embarrassed and kind of twitchy in their desire to sit back down) and they usually get a $5 coupon to Subway rather than a golden statue and not only does no one care what the other employees wore to work that day ("And here is Thompson from HR, looking stunning in a creative ensemble of a blue shirt and a pair of khakis"), the goal is no different than the goal of the Academy Awards. And, like the Academy Awards, no one really cares who gets recognized anyway. The difference between the Academy Awards and my work's Cafeteria Awards is that no one tries and pretends that the Cafeteria Awards are important. We understand it is just another lame attempt to get through another day without performing so poorly that there is no excuse not to fire us and force the company to try and find someone else who can pass a pee test. Yet we are told the Academy Awards are important, we should listen to the endless, masturbatory congratulations and half-informed political diatribes ("And I'd like to dedicate this statue to the people of Darfur. I understand you may have just had your hands and feet cut off, so here I stand, holding this for you. Stop the madness, world, stop the madness. And stop global warming, too."), we should follow with intense interest who is wearing what and walking with whom down the red carpet, even though there is little separating this awards ceremony and the slightly more greasy one held in the employee cafeteria. The Oscars are the "most important night in show biz". To that I respond as they would in the Best Animated Feature Film Nominee "Ratatouille" with a resounding "Bull-merde".

I'm going to send an email to ABC and let them know that the Cafeteria Awards at my work are usually around 1 pm on the first Thursday of the month, see if they can come out and broadcast it around the world. At the same time, I'll email the E! Network to let them know they may want to be there around 12:55, to catch all the excitement of the employees walking down the black, non-skid mat to find a seat where they are least likely to be seen dozing off. Watch your local listing for that.

Meanwhile, I was going to write an ignorant review for each of the best picture nominees, but I really don't have any interest in any of them any more than anyone has any interest in reading my blog about any of them, so, instead, I'm going to go through each of the top three categories and compare a leading nominee to a real-life equivalent, see who comes out on top. This should be fun. Or, if not fun, it at least should be long.

Race #1: Best Actress

Ellen Page in "Juno" vs Tamika Rollands in "Pregnant Teen"

Ellen Page is the adorable pregnant teen we all love as she struggles with hard decisions, including finding a family who will love and support her unborn child. This quirky comedy is a feel-good slice of life. Tamika Rollands is the despised pregnant teen who was raped at a house party by six of her brother's drug connections, thrown out of the house by her mother, has now dropped out of school, and is supporting herself through prostitution. This dirty tragedy is ended when Tamika is sliced across the face by a knife and left to die behind the swingset of a neighborhood park.

Winner: Ellen Page! Because we all know that the Academy Awards are the most important thing.
Loser: Tamika Rollands! No one likes an irresponsible teen who selfishly burdens the welfare system.

Race #2: Best Actor

George Clooney in "Michael Clayton" vs the town of White Top, WV in "Drinking Carcinogous Plastic"

Playing a corporate lawyer, the ever-charming George Clooney works hard to clean up dirty cases. But, when he realizes he may be playing for the wrong side, he sees how dirty his former corporate friends can be and finds his own life is on the line! This relevant and thought-provoking thriller will leave you on the edge of your seat! Meanwhile, in the dying mountain town of White Top, the only employer is a multi-billion dollar plastic manufacturer who, rather than pay hundreds of millions of dollars to properly dispose of carcinogous waste, is able to increase the bottom line by paying a few million dollar fine to the EPA every year and continue to dump the by-product into the Wanahatchee River, the only source of water for the town. Faced with the choice of destroying the primary source of income by driving the plastics manufacturer out of town (the CEO has already advised the City Council that, if any legal action is taken, the town of Hatchet Springs, about 50 miles north, has agreed to provide a 100 year tax abatement) or continuing to ingest water that has led to a cancer rate 200 times the national average, the town of White Top does the only thing they can do- they die! And their children die! And the executives of the plastics manufacturer drink only bottled water when they tour the plant once a year.

Winner: George Clooney! Because the Academy Awards are the most important night of the year!
Losers: The citizens of White Top, WV! Because they're dead AND soon to be unemployed when the plastics manufacturer moves the plant to Hatchet Springs anyhow. And they're still dead, because the carcinogenic waste stays in the water for 2000 years plus Hatchet Springs is upriver and it will still collect in the White Top reservoir. And no corporate lawyer will take the case anyway because the plaintiffs are both poor and dead.

Race #3: Best Picture

"No Country For Old Men" vs "Dead John Doe" vs "Unnamed Mexican Family"

What a thrilling three-way race! In the grand "No Country For Old Men", the Coens do it again, bringing stylized violence and intense storytelling to this tale of vengeance and danger in the drug traffic along the US-Mexican border. Filled with thrilling performances, stunning scenery, and an intense yet tranquil story, this film is the best Coen Brothers work in years! Dead John Doe is approximately 48 years old and, although his body is so badly decomposed when found lying in a ditch behind a public library that he cannot be identified, police will never learn the truth of his non-thrilling, non-stunning life. Living with a never-diagnosed schizophrenia, "John", or, as his mother called him when he was a boy, Steven DuChamp, started doing drugs when he was 14, selling them when he was 16, and was homeless and addicted by 17. Bouncing in and out of jail, including 2 years in prison for burglary, John ends up beaten and strangled by his own nephew as a result of a missing $20 bill from a drug sale. He's buried in a single grave at the county's expense along with two other unclaimed, unidentified bodies. Finally, Unnamed Mexican Family consists of a father, a mother, and four kids, including an infant of less than 9 months old, who, struggling to escape an oppressive government and non-existent opportunity in their native country, pay almost four months wages to two men who promise to get them to San Corina, California, where there are plenty of jobs picking strawberries for $1.20 an hour. Instead the men lock them in the back of a box truck for almost two days with no food or water during the hottest January on record with daily temperatures of almost 101 degrees. Finally, after two days of living hell, including witnessing the death of their baby, the family is released from the truck, where the father is promptly beaten and robbed and the mother repeatedly raped in front of her children by the men who were supposed to be helping them. The entire family is left in the desert to die, only to be picked up a day later by border patrol and taken back to Mexico, where the father is promptly put in a Mexican jail and never seen again. And the body of the infant is never found and assumed eaten by coyotes.

Winner: "No Country For Old Men"! Stunning cinematography and edgy direction make this a deep and unforgettable classic. Plus, the Academy Awards are the most important thing.

Loser: "John Doe"! How hard is it to get a job? There are plenty of jobs, honestly!

Super-losers: Unnamed Mexican Family! There are right ways to come to the U.S. and wrong ways to come to the U.S. If you play with fire, you are bound to get burned. Or eaten by coyotes.

My Rating: 2008 Academy Awards- 0 Stars for assuming that someone who's home is in foreclosure and scheduled to be auctioned next week cares what Keira Knightley is wearing, or that the 85 year old who has just had her pension cancelled and been forced into a Medicare drug program finds news of the Vanity Fair After-party entertaining.

However, in the Cafeteria Awards, I am proud to report I, myself, am the recipient of a solid paper $5 Subway coupon for "Best Acting at Being Busy While Typing a Blog Posting at Work".

Enjoy the Oscars, really. But just keep in mind that it is not the most important night of the year and most definitely not worth counting down (2 days 17:43:00...58...55). It is really just an expensive employee recognition program.

Reviews of the Ignorant: Valentine's Day Massacree Edition

Ahhhhh, here it is again, Valentine's Day, and the smell of latex and penicillin fills the air. Or maybe that's the smell of landfill being packed with unwanted and unsold cards. Whatever it is, there sure is something stinky in the air today, and, despite a writer's strike that I really hoped would stop the flow of new movies being released, I'm afraid the odor may not, as I first suspected, be again coming from my dog, but instead may be eminating from the local gigantoplex. Considering that Valentine's Day may be your first chance to get in the pants of your significant other since the champagne and horse tranquilizers of New Year's Eve, you don't want to blow it. Or, maybe you do. Whatever your preference, though, you cannot afford to strike out on Valentine's Day by following a well thought out candlelight dinner at White Castle with some celluoid tumor like "Saw XIX". So what's a caring and sensitive individual to do? Why, of course! Click your bookmark for the Frog Blog and read a few uninformed opinions of current date films that I've never seen! Why before you know it, the panties will be flying like a Tom Jones concert in the Victoria's Secret factory! Read on, fellow lovers, to find out what films work like licorice spiked with Spanish Fly and what films to avoid like an oozing herpes sore. In the words of the wise, wise Greek philosopher, Necco, "I'm Yours. Hot Stuff. Be Mine. Kiss Kiss. You're Cool. Sweet Heart. Be True. True Love. I'm Hooked. Hug Me."

(In the spirit of the season, all reviews in this post will include a final "Oyster" rating, indicating how many slurpy mollusks must be consumed to get back in the mood after viewing these filmatic chastity belts- therefore, the higher the Oyster rating, the worse the film is at setting the stage for romance, and the more likely your special someone will spend the night in the restroom, sick from undercooked seafood.)

Definitely, Maybe

Actually, on second thought, maybe not, definitely not. I feel a little bad about picking on this movie, like the time my friend threw books at that younger kid in school (and, of course, by "my friend" I mean me, and, by "younger kid", I mean my sister and by "books", I mean large pieces of concrete, but enough about me). Someone is going to come along and say, "Aw, that film is sweet and sentimental and you are just a bully who has no love in his heart." And, while that all may be true (except the idea that I even have a heart, because, as we have learned, you gotta have one to have an attack), it would be a lot easier to listen to this argument if the movie didn't stink like last years roses. I mean, break it down: Ryan Reynolds has that George W. Bush smirk thing going on, where he always seems right on the verge of cracking up at something that he finds funny, like handicapped people or foreclosure, but the rest of us just aren't priveledged enough to laugh at. That smirk alone would be enough to make me puke up my chocolates. There's Rachel Weisz, who is a way better actress than this kind of crap, plus she can sometimes look hot (although she can sometimes look like she o'd on prednisone, too). Add into this a cute kid with mommy issues and you have a film guaranteed to make your man grow breasts and start lactating and your woman to expect better from you. All in all, no good to come from this. This is a date film that would be best enjoyed blind, and deaf, too, if you can swing it.

Plus, that title! My eyes, my eyes! Obviously, the movie was wrapped without a title when the writer's strike hit, because if anyone wrote this title, they should have their fingers cut off to protect the rest of us. I know it's early in the year, but if this isn't a contender for the "Worst Title" Academy Award, I'll eat this entire blog, as well as the blog that follows (unless it's a Chinese blog selling knock-off Nintendo Wiis, which gives me indigestion).

Oyster Rating: Ten thousand oysters, plus $50

Fool's Gold

Of course, if you decide to take a date to this disaster, I guess we know who the fool is, don't we? I liked this movie better when it was called "The Deep" and starred Jacqueline Bisset, Jacqueline Bisset's boobs, and a wet, white T-shirt. Nothing against Kate Hudson, but she doesn't have the boobs to fill the cups of Jacqueline Bisset. Heck, she doesn't have the boobs to fill the cups of Jack Black. She may not even have boobs. If you are going to parade an attractive starlett around in a bikini, at least make it a starlett who has had the foresight to buy a set of C's. Kate is really, really cute, but cute in a fluffy bunny kind of way. The last time I dressed a fluffy bunny up in a bikini, I landed in court with an order to stay at least 1000 feet away from the pet shop. And then, Matthew McConaughey- oy, what a mess! At least he was interesting high, playing bongos naked. As a half-naked treasure hunter without a bongo in sight, no thanks.

The plot? Who really cares. There's some treasure hunting, and some "Romancing the Stone" kind of bickering, and whatever. The real point is that you have a sober Matthew McConaughey and a pre-pubescent Kate Hudson trying to make anyone care if they are in love or if they find gold or if it really would have been a better idea to go see "Cloverfield" again. If you really want gold this Valentine's Day, do what I do: take your special someone to the closest mall jewelry store and let him or her look through the windows at all the jewelry you'd by them if they'd quit wasting all your money on crappy movies like "Fool's Gold".

Oyster Rating: One hundred thousand oysters, brought up inside lost treasure chests, plus a box of Russell Stover's deluxe buttercream assortment plus a 14K gold-dipped rose plus $50.

27 Dresses

Ok, already. The film is called "27 Dresses". Is there anyone out there who can, definitely or maybe, tell me they have any interest in this? I'd rather watch my wife try on 27 dresses than watch this movie ("Yes, honey, I really like the blue one, too. No, honey, I don't think the sleeveless one makes your arms look fat. No, honey, I don't think your sister has the same dress..."). I'd rather try on 27 dresses than watch this movie. Plot? Do you really care? Something about being the bridesmaid at 27 weddings and a funeral, and getting free dresses, then using these to try and blackmail your hit TV show into giving you more money. I think Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz made this same movie then, and I didn't want to watch it then, so why would I watch the reheated version staring the incredibly, annoyingly self-important Katherine Heigl? At least Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz come across as having a sense of humor. Katherine Heigl comes across as being a mildly cute chick who thinks she's a majorly cute chick and should be paid more to boot. "Hi, my name is Katherine Heigl and, while I should be licking the feet of Judd Apatow for putting me in his "Knocked Up" flick and actually making anyone want to see anthing I've done, instead I'm going to bad mouth that film as sexist and walk off the set of "Grey's Anatomy" as if I'm the reason anyone watches that show and then all of your little people can bow down to my blonde greatness and if you don't, I'm going to tell my mommy." Oh, shut up. As soon as this crappy film sees a gross of it's budget divided by 27, you can go back to where you belong, making sequels to "Chucky" movies and Hallmark Channel snoozefests. I hope you kept one of those dresses, Katherine Heigl. From here on out, it's off the rack of TJ Maxx for you.

Did I mention James Marsden? Yeah, well, not going to, either.

This isn't a date movie, it's a prune movie. See this with someone you love, especially if you want them to stop loving you. On second thought, if you just want somewhere dark to make out while everyone else is asleep, this may be just the film to see.

Oyster Rating: 27 billion, quadrillion oysters, plus several Roofies, plus $50

The Eye

As in, what you will want to claw out after you watch this. Ok, not really a date movie, but, if anything could get a heterosexual male or a homosexual female in the mood, it would have to be Jessica Alba. But Jessica, what bad agents you must have. That "Fantastic Four" garbage, not once, but twice? That prequel to "Fools Gold" where you run around The Movie Channel for 110 minutes in a bikini? A movie with Dane Cook? With DANE COOK!!!. Help me to understand! You go from "Sin City" to "The Fantastic Four" and Dane Cook movies! And now remakes of Asian horror! I have already discussed at length the perils of remaking Asian horor movies for American audiences. Now, granted, I was discussing Japanese horror, but, like most ignorant American's, Japanese Horror, Chinese Horror, all looks horrible to me. So why, why, WHY are you here, Jessica?! But then, it comes to me, like a love note from that girl who I had a crush on in 10th grade who always wanted to ruin things by turning me into security- "The Eye", starring Jessica Alba. "Idle Hands", starring Jessica Alba. I get it now! You are making body part horror movies! How dare I doubt you, Dark Angel! Next up will be "Gutter Mouth", followed by "The Nose Knows" and "The Ear of Fear" and "Death Feet". You are so wise, you are like the anti-Heigl. Implant anyone's corneas on me and you'll still look good. Even if your film is plural- impaired, I still think you are great.

This movie, on the other hand, sucks. I'd enjoy "The Eye" most with mine closed.

Oyster Rating: 2 oysters, one to poke out each eye, and then another 49 thousand to bury you under, and then $50.

That's it for our date movie round up. I know, I know- all these movies sucked. Sorry. I don't make 'em folks, I don't even watch them- I simply review them. But then, you ask yourself, "Self, what am I supposed to watch to put my date in the Valentine's spirit of, as the French say (at least in Southern France), amore?" Well, Uncle Matt isn't going to let you down there. Here are two suggestions: Number Uno- "Transformers". Not only are they more than meets "The Eye", but what do women love more than fighting robots that transform into fast cars? And what do men love more than women who love fighting robots that transform into fast cars? But maybe your date is older and the hightech "zwwwsh-zwark-zwsss" sound of Transformers transforming might blow out her hearing aids? Then let me move on to Number B- "Career Opportunities". Here is the film where I fell in love with Target, Jennifer Connelly, and Jennifer Connelly's white tank top, all in less than 2 hours. I mean, Valentine's Day is all about dreams coming true, right? What? Well, what is the holiday about dreams coming true? Groundhog Day? Arbor Day? Whatever it is, who doesn't dream, several times a night, about being locked in a Target with Jennifer Connelly in a white tank top. Someday, I know, this dream will come true for me. At least, I hope it's this dream, and not the one where my first grade teacher is naked, making apple brown betty out of my fingertips. And since that's what Valentine's Day is really about, I suggest everyone go watch "Career Opportunities".

In the words of the Roman great philosopher, Brach, "Say What".

Dog Reviews, Part II: Tale of the Dog: Basic Instinct 2

Wow. Is it tomorrow already? I must have overslept.

So, since the first edition of "Dog Reviews" was so popular (and, by popular, I mean completed and posted on the blog), I foolishly decided to attempt a second version. "Dog Reviews", of course, for those new to the blog or those who just stopped by for naked pictures of Jennifer Connelly, is my attempt at interspecies film criticism, or bestireviewality, by forcing my ADHD suffering Jack Russell to watch a film and scientifically noting with a sharpie on the palm of my hand his reactions (this is the way that scientists always note things, of course). The last time, of course, was a disaster, leading to all kinds of body functions and boardline cruelity. Being a rational and intelligent human, of course, I decided to try again.

Last time, I attempted to force the dog to sit through multiple reviews, which led to serious resentment on his part and a post so long and rambling that NO ONE wanted to read the thing, not even my mom (ESPECIALLY not my mom). This time, I figured I'd just try one film, and, in an attempt to gain his interest, I chose "Basic Instinct 2: Basicker Instinct", or something like that. Why this sequel to the muff-flashing, gay-baiting, ice-picking, soft-focus classic? First, my dog has always been a fan of Sharon Stone's breasts, even the old, dry-roasted Sharon Stone (who, I must agree, actually looks really good for a 1000 year old soul eating mummy). Deux, as they say in France, dog's are all about instincts, some good (like attacking the mailman trying to violate the sanctity of my home), some bad (like humping my face while I sleep...with my mouth open!), and some basic (eating, drinking, breathing). C, "Basic Instinct 2" is subtitled "Risk Addiction", and I just now diagnosed my dog with a risk addiction. What else could explain the desire to eat Christmas tree bulbs, or to jump out of 2nd story windows, or to crawl under the couch when even my wife is too afraid to clean under there, or to eat the chicken nugget one of the kids dropped in the back of the van in 2002. Gotta be risk addiction. So this film would appear to be the perfect flick to watch with my dog.

Wrong.

I had forced the dog to sit by my in front of the TV and was in the process of getting the DVD out of the slightly sticky case when I began to smell something incredibly bad, incredibly ass-like. Believing this scent not to be of human origin, I shot an accusatory glance at my dog, who verified my assumption by making his eyes real big and flattening his ears against his head in a manner to indicate his disatisfaction with his life at that point. "You stink," I said. In his shame, he didn't answer, only looked away. I began again to prepare for our fully scientific dog review session.

And, yet again, I am hit with the overwhelming smell of ass.

Now, there are several areas of a dog capable of stink. First would be the mouth. My dog's teeth are brushed once a year and, considering the vet only charges me $6 for this (compared to the $90 twice a year the dentist would ask if I ever went there), I question the quality of this cleaning. Not only that, but my dog is not particularly picky about what he puts in his mouth. Dirt, plants, shoes, mail, chairs, poop, dead squirrels, live squirrels, coins, leaves, grass, the side of the fence, my wife's toes, and dog food- it's all the same to him. So the mouth is a definite possibility. Of course, there are also his feet. Dogs have the mysterious power, not yet explained despite several government grants to do so, to make their feet smell like Fritos corn chips, and not a good kind of Fritos corn chips, either. There are his ears- he seems to enjoy scratching his ears with his Frito smelling feet, then smelling and licking his feet when he's done. Considering that he also enjoys smelling and licking dead birds and dirty underwear, I can't figure he's getting perfume out of there.

I immediately picked him up to attempt to locate the source of the ass-smell eminating from him and rapidly filling the room, desperate to stop the foul gas before losing conciousness. I attempted to smell his mouth, only to have him lick my nostrils and attempt to lick my lips, driving me back. I grabbed a foot and smelled that- Fritos (and not the good kind- the store brand that's been sitting on the shelf too long), but not ass. I thought about smelling his ears, but it seemed both repulsive and slightly illegal. So, if it wasn't his mouth, his feet, or his ears, what could it be? What part of my dog was I forgetting that could be filling the room with a horrible, ass-like smell and-

Oh.

Outside he went, where he promptly ran around the yard barking at all four corners to make sure it was secure enough to poop in. I gave him a few minutes then attempted to call him back in to complete "Dog Reviews, Part II", but he simply stared at me like I was nuts then began to run around the yard barking again. Dejected, I returned to my still slightly rank smelling room, but I couldn't bring myself at this point to watch Sharon's stones flopping around in a hot tub, no matter how well preserved. Then I realized the 10 minutes attempting to obtain a new "Dog Review" was not a waste. It was a true scientific experiment!

Hypothesis

Based on the principles of Pavlov's classical conditioning, behaviors can be reduced by producing a negative stimulus at the time of the behavior.

Procedures
The behavior to be observed will be the universal male desire to look at breasts. This will be accomplished via the use of a DVD player and a rented copy of "Basic Instinct 2: Electric HooHoos". The negative stimulus, introduced at a variable interval time-frame, will be canine flatulence, produced naturally by a sheepish looking Jack Russell terrier.

Observation

After several doses of large and powerful quantities of the canine flatulence, combined with the added negative stimulus of Frito-feet, the subject initially attempts to locate the source of the invisible mystery odor. Dejected and slightly ill-feeling, the subject removes the offensive Jack Russell to an outdoor location, where the odor can be dissapated and the cause, uh, well, eliminated. Subject, now in a state of disorientation, returns to the room, initially attempts to begin the film and satisfy the visual-breast desire (as first identified by Dr. H. Hefner et. al., 1953, Mammary Glands and Effects on Periodical Sales in the United States), however finds he cannot continue. Subject now reports smelling dog bowels, even when no dog is present, when exposed images of Sharon Stone.

Conclusion

The phenomenom identified in classical conditioning seems at work here: the Subject initally wanted to see breasts, even to the point of exposing himself to a possibly brain-damagingly bad film, and even if belonging to an evil countess who must bathe in the blood of virgins just to maintain a career. However, after several doses of dog flatulence, the Subject loses all desire to look at breasts and instead returns the film unwatched and eats a sandwich. The effect, however, seems to be short-lasting and tied to the behavior present at the time of the aversive stimulus introduction- Subject was later observed Googling "naked Jennifer Connelly" on the home personal computer only 3 hours after the commencement of the experiment. Additional study is warrented.

In conclusion, it appears canine flatulence is, of all the foul smells that a canine has the potential to excrete from their body, one that is very effective for the short-term modification of behavior. It also appears that "Basic Instinct 2: The Vaginer Strikes Back" sucks.

Here is a non-scratch and sniff picture of my dog looking cute with a piece of wrapping paper hanging out of his mouth in an attempt to remove the lingering odor of the previous blog post

Ruining the Curve

It has come to my deficited attention that "certain members" of the vast blogosphere are "ruining" things for "others", so much so that "they" and "their" "actions" must be surrounded by "quotation marks". These virtual virtuosos feel that they must show us all up by posting to their blogs, and posting frequently (and, by frequently, of course, I mean more often than since November 22, which has been proven by scientists to be the optimal last time to have posted on a blog). Well, listen here, two-post wonders, there are some of us with true courage out here, some of us who refuse to be trapped by the wicked World Wide Web you weave. In fact, there are some of us who have the courage to not only not post on our blogs, but NEVER post on our blogs! There are some of us who have the guts that, when we do post, once every two months, two weeks, and two days, we don't even post anything of substance, anything that even relates to the already tenuous theme of our blog! Some of us are true innovators by allowing our blogs to wither like a raisin in the sun, or possibly explode! Some of us with the cajones, as the French say (at least in the parts of France that border Mexico), to simply toss a bunch of words together and try and pass THAT ranting mess off as a true blog post that ANYONE (even the post-er's own mother)(especially the post-er's own mother) would not want to read, and would definitely skip over if they accidentally happened upon it. These are the true mavericks! So if you think you can ruin it for us all by posting both frequently and often to your own sorry excuse for a blog, you are wrong! The rest of us out there have to take the time to try and look at every piece of porn available until we hit the end of the Internets.The rest of us out there have to spend a few hours shaking their keyboard, trying to get the spilled coffee to drain out of it. The rest of us are too busy contemplating the hotness of Jennifer Connolly on the beach while we check out grainy vidcaps from that filmatic classic, "The Hot Spot". The rest of us out there have to watch some of the over 276 hours of "Martha Stewart" on the DVR (and by 'the rest of us', of course, I don't mean me. Not that there is anything wrong with recording 276 hours of 'Martha Stewart'. I mean, you're the one that has a problem with it. Not me. I didn't say anything. Not that I did it. Or, I mean, not that I would do it. Maybe a few hours, but not that many. And, so what if I did? I didn't, but so what if I did? So, whatever, there's nothing wrong with doing that, and you can take the accusations of your closed mind to some talk radio blog, fool.)

The rest of us are truly committed, truly dedicated to NOT ever post ANYTHING for months at a time, and NOT ONLY WILL NO ONE NOTICE, BUT NO ONE WILL EVEN CARE!!!! THE INTERNETS WILL ALL CONTINUE WITH OUR BLOG JUST SITTING, GATHERING CYBERDUST UNDERNEATH THE OLD PETS.COM AND PEAPOD PAGES AND NO ONE IN THE WORLD WILL MISS IT IN ANY WAY!!!! It is these lazy bloggers that are the true heroes, over-achievers. I'd like to call these people the Weakest Generation, primarily because they not only have not saved the world, but they are actually too lazy to even lift their fingers and type a movie review of a film they haven't seen. These are the true visionaries. And I'd like to count myself among them, by proudly not posting on my blog.

Well, until now, with this post.

Uh, guess I blew that one.

Oh well, tune in tomorrow when I tackle a truly interesting and universal topic and reflect on why my dog smells like ass.