Funny. As. Hell. Auto tune based on rescue of young women goes viral. Why are we laughing?

“Dead Giveaway” Auto Tune of Charles Ramsey

As horrifying details continue to unfold regarding Amanda Berry’s abduction by lowlife, Ariel Castro many of us are also laughing our asses off at the Auto Tune version of rescuer, Charles Ramsey’s now famous interview with a local reporter. For those unawares, Ramsey is the charismatic black man who helped rescue Amanda from the house where she and two other girls (now women) had been held captive, raped and abused for ten years. (PS: I mention Ramsey’s race because, well, he brings it up in one of his interview’s more entertaining moments.)

While the content Ramsey told the reporter was understandably dramatic, his accounting of it was also sensational ripe with provocative statements, great delivery and killer sound bites. The man is a natural. No one should be surprised to see him on Letterman or touting McDonald’s (a brand he name-drops numerous times during the interview). Straight up, the video is highly compelling. When converted to Auto Tune by nefarious online maestros it’s freaking hilarious. No way around it, the aptly titled song, Dead Giveaway created from interview footage is super entertaining. Frankly, I found it better arranged and cleverer than a fair amount of legitimate popular music. But that’s another story…

My wonderment is about creating content like this at all (much less being entertained by it) given the terrifying and extremely current circumstances. What are we to make of that? And it’s not just snarky young men finding amusement here. In my office even women were guffawing to the video. I would have thought rape and torture off limits for them.

So much for “too soon” even being a question. The parody song came out within 24 hours of the interview. I remember after 9/11 our nation required a fair amount of time before any sort of entertainment related to those events could be appreciated let alone made. Hell, comedy in general was put on hold for a period.

That was then. Online pranksters have multiplied like algae in the last 15 years. From the high-end producers (Funny or Die) to the entities making videos such as this one, it has become impossible to allow a grace period or time of mourning for anything at all. Assassinations. Terrorism. Rape. Suicide. Subject doesn’t matter and likely never will again. Competition for eyeballs is too fierce. If you don’t do the bit someone else will. And it will get shared and liked and followed until even your grandmother in Topeka has seen it.

That’s the world we live in. Have a nice day.

Passing on “Mad Men” this season. Has the anti-hero run its course?

Am I becoming a drag?

I have not watched a single episode of Mad Men this year. Last few seasons I watched every one. I wrote about them on my blog. I Tweeted. I shared.

Why no interest this year? Maybe I’m too busy –a new home, a new job. But I had those things last year and they were even newer. Besides, the show is on Sunday night. With DVR and Internet, I could watch it whenever I want, anyway. That’s how I found time for The Walking Dead and Party Down.

Too busy is not the reason.

Frankly, I think it’s because I don’t care anymore. Better said, I lost interest. I moved on. Moreover, I have a hunch a lot of other people did too. I don’t know the ratings. But I’m willing to bet they are down. Maybe even way down.

What causes that? I wonder if there’s a psychological reason. I wonder if it’s a marker for something in the zeitgeist. Could it be the anti-hero as portrayed by Don Draper is fading from fashion in popular culture?

It’s possible we’ve had enough of melancholy and dubious motives. Are we over the beautiful downer? The Zenith may have been Chris Nolan’s Dark Knight.

So dark…

After considering that character, to say nothing of Heath Ledger’s Joker, what comes after? And so Batman has given way to a rowdier bunch of heroes. Thor, Captain America and Iron Man are ambivalent studs but their moral compasses are a lot more aligned than Batman’s or Don draper’s. I suppose Tony Stark has some issues but still…

My hunch are shows like Dexter, Breaking Bad and Mad Men have run their course. We may be entering a period where we want more ‘together’ heroes. Let the bad guys be riddled with doubt and pain.

It will be interesting, then, so see how the latest installment of Superman fares, Man of Steel. Director, Zach Snyder recently was quoted saying “Superman must be taken seriously.” Maybe so… Having seen only the trailers, I think Clark Kent won’t be vexed by the dark side; rather I think his problem will be hiding his super powers in a world that desperately needs them.

So steely…

That’s a very different dilemma than Don Draper’s. The titular ad man wants to be a better person but keeps slipping. While I most certainly can relate I’m just not in the mood for it right now. Are you?

Upon seeing and hearing “Les Miserables” my opinion of musicals still the same.

I don’t like musicals. Even “good” ones. They have always struck me as silly or, worse, just plain dull. Don’t get me wrong. I respect the genre and those who appreciate it. Mostly. I just can’t take them seriously.

And so it is with this prejudice I took my wife to see Les Miserables, the Academy Award winning film based on the musical based on the novel by Victor Hugo. I’d never seen the actual musical (see above) let alone read the book. Yet long before the film I’d been aware of the show. Like Cats, Chicago and Wicked Les Miz is an unavoidable piece of popular culture. If I shut my eyes I can vividly see those iconic posters beckoning we pedestrians with as much fizz as Coca Cola. But for all their ubiquity the ads never persuaded me. That is until the movie came out and the kudos along with it.

Um, I still don’t like musicals. And I didn’t much care for this one either. Alas, I found myself getting bored and fidgety. I kept hoping beyond hope that the talented cast would take a break from singing and just have a goddamn conversation. But they never did. Everything was a lyric. And once I succumbed to reality I kept waiting for an amazing, recognizable tune. None was forthcoming. The actors sang about tables and chairs and looking down and not looking up and everything else. They warbled about the mundane and melodrama to the point where it all blended together like Thousand Island dressing, heavy and too sweet.

“Stop or I’ll sing!”

I’ve got to give Hugh Jackman his due. Wolverine has chops. Frankly, all the stars in this studded affair deserve props for getting outside their comfort zones and singing not badly for 150 fucking minutes. Even Russel Crowe. He only sometimes reminded me of a crooning William Shatner. It couldn’t have been easy.

By far my favorite part of the movie was the way it looked. From the opening scene, as epic as Titanic, the sets were stunning. If you’ll forgive a pretentious French term, the “mise-en-scene” was impeccable. All that period detail, as good as in Lincoln and maybe even better. Thank God. Otherwise I would have been tres miserable instead of merely somewhat.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for a big juicy sex scandal!

Insert big joke here…

A jealous author. A disgraced General. A curvy socialite. Ah, just what the country needs after a super storm and bruising Presidential election: a juicy sex scandal! I don’t have to go into the details. You all know the story, or parts of it. The good parts. We’ve seen the TVs hanging above treadmills and barstools and in our living rooms, saw the file footage of these well-to-do’s, formed impressions, presented opinions, changed our minds, wondered what all the fuss was about while also wondering about the naughty bits: the trysts, the late night emails, the homely wife and what she must be thinking, the bad men and women who succumbed to temptation and found themselves shame-walking across the planet.

It’s been too damn long. Monica Lewinsky’s dress is in the Smithsonian or some rich pervert’s closet to be pulled out at cocktail parties, on bets or for charity. So long ago that the man who made that blue dress famous is now famous again for being dignified and stately, not the disgraced Chief of Staff who lied to his wife and a nation. That is how long it’s been since we in America have been treated to an epic soap opera like the Petraeus Affair.

More like this and maybe late night talk shows will still have a chance. As I write this Leno and Conan are force-ranking puns. For this is prime time. These are real, Real Housewives and Real American Heroes. People with money. People who served our country. Men in and OUT of uniform. Salacious. Irresistible…

Yet completely benign.

Hold on. This involved the CIA. The FBI. Homeland Security is concerned about potential breaches in our nation’s military intelligence. That’s dangerous stuff. General Betray-us could easily have passed along Pentagon codes to his mistress along with his little soldiers. We all know secrets are whispered over pillows. She strokes his trembling abdomen. He giggles about weapons of mass destruction. Oh, General, speaking of which!

Baby, you can drive my car…

Come on, people. This scandal is gossamer. While the principals are no doubt seriously humiliated, there is nothing to fear from it. If that were the case his paramour would have been stymied from writing her bio about him a long time ago. Didn’t happen. No one gave a shit then, let alone was scared.

On the contrary, we are distracted from our fears. Sublimely. For that’s what sex scandals do. They take us out of recession and war and whatever ails us. Horny famous people are the ultimate bromide. Fizz, Fizz, Oh, what a relief it is!

“Are you tickling my palm, General?”

Special Note: I realize there is a theory suggesting the scandal was teased out of it’s boudoir by government insiders to distract from serious hearings regarding military actions in Libya. This then would qualify the story as legitimate news. Until that is verified just tell me what they’re wearing!

With evermore people clamoring for fame (and achieving it) what does fame even mean?

“I told you so.”

At a restaurant the other day I overheard a woman paraphrase the famous Andy Warhol quote, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” She was referring to a video of her teen-aged son on You Tube. She bragged to her friends it had “hundreds of views!” For her, that meant fame.

But is this what Andy Warhol meant? Yes and no. Remember, he was looking at fame through the lens of mass media. Warhol and his Factory defined popular culture, essentially creating it. Before him fame via art (painting, literature, photography or films) was the providence of a precious few, those who earned it by talent and/or exquisite connections. After Warhol, fame could mean anything from getting a bad haircut to getting arrested.

I’m not going to belabor the obvious. The Internet and social media have made getting famous a whole lot easier for the rest of us. Andy was a prophet.

And yet.

In a world where everyone and their teenaged sons are famous for a few minutes, what exactly does “fame” even mean? Are there a certain number of views, likes and followers that deliver fame? Even one hundred thousand friends on Facebook can’t equal the popularity of many reality TV stars. And, in turn, can one honestly compare a Real Housewife with, say, Audrey Hepburn or Jack Nickolson?

15 minutes

Forever

The fame elevator goes ever higher… with ever more VIP’s clamoring to get to higher and higher floors. Joe the Plumber (remember him?) or some opera-singing five-year old can’t possibly belong there. Or can they? After all, aren’t they the knuckleheads Andy Warhol was talking about? In the beginning Justin Bieber just only kid on You Tube. Silly stuff I know.

Here’s a more interesting question: If everyone is famous (even for only 15 minutes) then how can fame even exist? By definition don’t we need way more un-famous people in order to appreciate the famous ones?

Back in the day my old man said his 15 minutes came when the Wall Street Journal rendered his portrait in iconic black dots. That trumped merely just getting his picture in the paper, which, by the way, used to be the quintessential determiner of fame.

I recently read a blog post talking about “access” as being the new standard for wealth. In other words, one doesn’t need to own things in order to be considered wealthy -just have access to them.