The wives and girlfriends of the wealthy stockbrokers and bankers facing economic woes!
Fewer mani-pedis! Less lunches out! Reduced baby sitter hours! No more Ferragamos!
Oh the humanity!
Thankfully these poor souls have taken to the blogosphere to find relief (and hopefully a book deal! Reality show? Anyone? Anyone?)
Check ’em out at Dating a Banker Anonymous.
Bring a box of tissues.
The times, they certainly are a’changing.
One place this is perfectly evident is in the world of newspapers and reporting.
A number of key dailies have either gone out of business or gone to internet only publication to cut printing costs. As these papers scale back, they must also downsize their staff.
Just last week, I was referring to something that Gene Grant had written about in his column (published in the Albuquerque Journal). I’d said that I had always liked Gene’s work, whether or not I always agreed with him.
I find him to be both eloquent and articulate. Something lacking in so many of today’s so-called journalists.
Just two days after I had been extolling Gene’s virtues, I read his last column for the ABQjournal.
Said Gene: “A small story in the historic and difficult choices newspaper owners and editors are facing. It’s tough out there.”
Gene and his opinion column have fallen victim to the world of the internet and the ever present blog-ready online world.
I love my blog and the forum to be able to openly express my opinions on a variety of topics, but I realize that the blogosphere has taken down talented journalists like Gene.
And I have conflicted feelings on that subject.
On the one hand, I lament the lack of real journalism with integrity and reporting “just the facts.” This is, I know, an antiquated notion. Opinion has made its way into the media, as each paper has its own axe to grind. My own local rag, the San Francisco Chronicle, is one of the worst.
So although I wish for strong, precise journalism, it just doesn’t exist anymore.
Then again, on the other hand, I think the rise of blogging is a good thing. No longer am I subjected to only the forced opinions of my local paper or other media outlets. I can seek out a variety of dissenting opinions, take them all in, and then make up my own mind. Knowledge is power.
I wonder if blogging wouldn’t be quite the force it is if our journalistic outlets gave us the unbiased news we desire? Or perhaps it would be popular, but in a different way.
So while I’m sad to see the demise of newspapers and the downsizing of talented writers like Gene Grant, I think it was inevitable.
The newspaper world is a stodgy old industry and it’s high time for that old dog to learn some new tricks.
Change or die is the motto these days. Newspapers aren’t immune.
Something tells me 2009 is going to be a wild ride.
Over the holiday break, my lazy hind-end had the opportunity to watch a LOT more television than I usually do.
And since I watch sans a TiVo or similar device, I am subjected to all manner of commercials. The retail onslaught has been hard and heavy this year.
But sometimes, there is a commercial that rises above the rest.
It began with the repeated ads for a product called ShamWow.
A very enthusiastic guy with a wireless microphone headset (mildly reminiscent of Madonna in the Vogue years, image here) and an east coast New York/New Jersey blend accent extolled the virtues of this fabulous new absorbent product.
Okay. Well, good. Very spongy.
But the commercial stood out more for the oddball guy making the pitch than for the product itself. I admit, it was, as they say in the marketing world, “sticky”. I can remember the product name off the top of my head, so it’s working.
Then a couple days ago, the ShamWow guy showed up in a new ad for something called a SlapChop. This product is a new and improved version of a good ol’ kitchen chopper.
Same guy, same accent, but he’s got a schtick working now. There he is, chopping away at a variety of items, telling us that the SlapChop is going to transform our lives.
Then he said something in the ad that caused The Good Man and I to stop all activity and look at each other.
“Did he really say that,” I asked, and TGM nodded.
What my new television pal Vince Offer said was:
“You’re going to love my nuts.”
He then showed how the SlapChop can decimate the nut of your choice to tiny bits.
Then later he also said, “Stop having a boring tuna.”
Well yeah! Who wants a boring tuna!
At first I was kind of put off by this Vince guy, but the more he shows up on my television screen (which is a LOT lately), the more I’m in this guy’s corner.
A quick Wikipedia glance makes for some good reading. (you’ve made it when you have a Wiki about you…right?)
I found a Slate article, and below is the best quote that sums up exactly what I wanted to say:
“Vince…conveys a street-smart persona—with his headset microphone, rat-a-tat phrasing and fuhgeddaboutit confidence—that’s intended to get the viewer thinking, “Hey, this guy’s sharp. He knows a good deal.” (It may also get us thinking, “Hey, this guy’s a douche. He needs a better haircut.” But that’s a secondary issue.)”
Can Vince become the next Billy Mays (of OxiClean and OrangeGlo fame)?
Time will tell.
For now, let me just say this. You’re gonna love his nuts.
Image from SlapChop website.
I noted with some sadness today the passing of Bettie Page. She was 85 and passed after suffering a heart attack.
I’ve always been rather fascinated by her, first, of course, for her vibrant beauty and unabashed nature. But there is something else there for me…this might sound horribly vain, but I loved that, like me, she was a brunette.
I grew up in New Mexico where almost all the girls are brunette, and a blond girl was always the “ooh and aaahs” of the school ground. The boys didn’t care about another brunette girl. We were a dime a dozen. But a blond, aaaaooooohhhhga!
So I’ve always loved seeing a hot brunette make it work. After the Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield media barrage, I *loved* seeing Bettie’s dark locks…and that she took her overt sensuality to new levels. She made people uncomfortable.
And she was just…stunning.
Like the many girls who burst on the scene the way she did, she had a troubled life both before and after her explosive fame. But I don’t want to remember her for the hard times, the mental frailty, the reclusiveness and regret.
I want to remember her as a plain, open, fun kinda gal.
From today’s SFGate article: “…she told Playboy in 1998: ‘I never thought it was shameful. I felt normal. It’s just that it was much better than pounding a typewriter eight hours a day, which gets monotonous.'”
Right!
I know the “behind the scenes” wasn’t always pretty, and the uptight folks hounded her. But to me she is truly an icon. And supportive evidence that brunettes can be just as va-va-voom as our fair-haired counterparts!
I’m posting a fairly well known photo, fully clothed, but brimming with HOOOOOT.
Go easy, now, Bettie. Have fun shaking your money-maker on the other side!
The Feline has been named “Pet of the Month” by our vet.
Oh the fame. The demands. The rider clause to be added on to her appearance contract.
“One (1) big clear glass bowl of kibble. All the irregular shapes ones picked out. One (1) bottle Evian. Room temperature.”
She’ll go from merely a pain in the patooty to insufferable.
Diva Feline.
I’ll do a tell all with the tabloids about her addiction to batting at the venetian blinds and that time I found her in a “compromising position” in the laundry basket.
I’ll have to teach her how to get out of a limo correctly, tail down, so we don’t have a little “Britney incident” on our hands.
Upshot is maybe all the media pressure will encourage her to drop those extra lingering four pounds she fights.
Do I need to find a celebrity trainer to take her on?
Ugh.
Hope we get a reality show out of this.
