Stop the Madness!

I died just a little bit inside when I saw that Julia Roberts had named her twin babies Hazel and Phinnaeus. Poor little Hazel is going to spend her entire childhood explaining that she is not, in fact, a 72-year-old chain smoker, while little Phinnaeus is going to be in high school before he can spell his name correctly on the first try.

But whom should we really feel sorry for? The teachers of America, because in just a few years our kindergartens and day care centers will be full of little Phinnys and Hazels, to add to the current crop of Mackenzies, Madisons, Masons, Barretts, Merrilyns, Aislynns and Jadens. Names have gotten really, really stupid, and this is from someone whose sister is named Skye. Oh, and my dad originally was going to spell my name with umlauts and a couple random consonants, until common sense (aka my mom) intervened. So I know whereof I speak.

To all you expectant parents of the world, I want you to do the following things for me when you’re thinking about baby names. If the name fails any of these tests, for the love of all that is good and holy, pick something else.

The Ten-Step Test of Baby Name Sanity:

1. Can you both spell and pronounce the name correctly on the first try?

2. Can you say, out loud, “Introducing the next President of the United States...(full name)” with a straight face?

3. Does this name remind you of anyone from Lord of the Rings? Or a mythical creature from a Dungeons & Dragons guidebook? If so, pick something else.

4. Would this name be suitable as a stage name for a porn star or exotic dancer? If so, skip it.

5. Did you pick this name out with the idea that your child would spend the his/her entire life as an infant? Names have to fit the adult, as well.

6. Are you picking out a weird name just for the sake of being weird? Some names, like Kaicie, seem like a continuation of those kids in high school who thought they were “noncomformists”, but dressed exactly like all of the rest of their supposedly weird friends. Besides, names move in cycles, and despite your better efforts Kaicie may well be Jennifer: the Next Generation. Don’t get wrapped up in picking something “unique.”

7. Does this name sound like the rich-kid villain of a teen exploitation film? I could totally see a Barrett shoving a nerd into a locker, then zooming off in an Iroc-Z to a kegger at the lake.

8. If you are choosing an “ethnic” name that is not of your own ethnicity, please do your research. Don’t inadvertently name your kid the Cherokee word for “pigeon poop.”

9. Person or disease? If it sounds more like an obscure tropical illness than an actual name, pick something else. Try saying aloud, “I’ve come down with a case of ….(name)”.

10. Finally, do your friends and relatives cringe when you mention your name idea? They may be afraid to tell you that you’re naming your child something stupid.

Conspiracy Theory!!

Have you ever wondered to yourself, "How did this crappy TV show/movie/torture device EVER get made?" There’s a reason for everything!

1. From Justin to Kelly: An American Idol Movie
Wow, this movie was bad. If you could call it a movie, or if you could call it "bad" – I’d call it atrocious. Take your pick: Beach ball choreography? Surreal subplots involving dancing waiters? A neverending boat ride where the two amateurtagonists (I wouldn’t call them PROtaganists) hum treacly ballads to one another? A dance routine to "That’s the Way I Like It"? Better yet, stilted dialogue like, "I am genetically incapable of a relationship with a woman"? Take your pick, there are literally hundreds of reasons to hate this film. So, how did it ever get made? An optimist might say it was greed, but I’ve thought of a more sinister reason.

The Culprit: College-age rock snob guys created this film as an insidious plot to get their girlfriends to stop listening to Top 40 music. I bet every 19-year-old girl who saw this film started to listen to Pink Floyd and Zeppelin in order to cleanse their brains.

2. Beverly Hills, 90210
In retrospect, this show sucked like a Hoover on steroids. The hair was always plentiful and gel-frozen. The plots were a universe of random. In the last week of episodes I’ve seen, Kelly attempted to adopt an abandoned baby (abandoned by a teenage Jessica Alba!), David walked away from his big musical break due to a payola scandal, Noah lost a $10 million lawsuit, and Donna got wacky on painkillers and stole another fashion designer’s ideas. Let’s for a moment ignore the fact that, in this show’s world, a 22-year-old is a major fashion designer. Let’s look at why this show was ever made.

The Culprit: Aaron Spelling. This entire show was designed to boost the ego of Tori Spelling. Over the course of 10 years, Donna is stalked on four separate occasions, becomes a model, beds a millionaire or two, and is told 100 times an episode by other characters that she’s beautiful and wonderful. All this for a girl who looks like Donald Duck? Yeah, I’ll put in for conspiracy.

3. "Gigli", "Paycheck", "Surviving Christmas"

Granted, I’ve never seen any of these movies. I’d really rather not make my eyeballs bleed.

The Culprit: All that is good and kind in the world, in an attempt to end the career of Ben Affleck. Right on!

4. "7th Heaven"
Ah, my old favorite. Confused plots, ridiculous moralizing, 27 people living in a parsonage, and characters mysteriously moving to "Florida" (known in the rest of the world as "rehab".)

The Culprit: The atheists. This show makes organized religion seem so uppity, condescending and awful that people who see it leave their church in droves.

Every Time You See Underpants, DRINK!

My greatest discovery in Colombia hasn’t been the food or culture, or even the people, it’s how the music videos are so awesomely awesome that I can’t tear myself away. We’ve got HTV, "Este Es Musica Latina!" Roughly translated, "We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Clothes!" Here’s an alphabetized field guide to some of my favorites:

Bisbol, David is from Spain. He has pretty, bouncy girl-curls, which he plays with often. His songs are operatic and have titles like "Desnudate Mujer" (Honest-to-God translation: "Get Naked, Woman"). He’s always overwrought about something, and his videos always feature West Side Story dance-fights in bullrings, or at the very least, plenty of nudity.

Café Tacuba are Mexican art-rockers. Expect a lot of acid references, rather than sexual ones. This makes them unique in the Latino music world.

Chayanne is Puerto Rican, and his videos can make even the happiest person in the world want to leap off a balcony. My favorite is the one where he and his daughter drive for 12 hours to visit his wife’s grave. The depressing part isn’t finding out that the wife is actually dead, but that she’s buried in a cornfield in the middle of nowhere, and doesn’t even get her name on a headstone. Chayanne’s a jerk of a pseudo-widower.

Ferro, Tiziano is actually Italian, but he often sings in Spanish. He’s always in a café somewhere, smoking pensively and exuding the sexy. He wears more leather than a dominatrix.

La Oreja de Van Gogh are from Spain and follow the Blondie/No Doubt formula. Put a striking and fashionable woman out front and let her sing. Meanwhile the guys show up in t-shirts and count their money.

Mago de Oz: I've never been able to sit through one of their videos, but they're still something I want to share with the world. Why, you ask? They're a Spanish-language Celtic band. Uh, yeah.

Martin, Ricky: his Spanish-language videos are awesome. He’s always damp, half-dressed and writhing on a nightclub floor. I’m not sure if it’s sexy so much as unhygienic.

Nosequien y Los Nosequantos are unattractive men hovering on the brink of middle age. But don’t worry, their low-budget videos always have at least a dozen 20-year-old girls, dancing suggestively in miniskirts. They’ll also have a blonde get in and out of a bathtub three times per video (I call her "The Cleanest Girl in the World"). Count on lots of footage of the girlies leaning forward so you can see down their tops, spinning their skirts so you can see their panties, or cuddling one another.

Rubio, Paulina is a teeny little Mexican whose videos are softcore set to music. She’s the only petite woman I know of who can carry off sexy clothes. Personally, I always wind up looking like Jodie Foster’s character in Taxi Driver. Her most recent video features her writhing inside a bulldozer, wearing nothing but caution tape and some yellow panties. This same video features firehoses, suggestive jackhammer dances and a lot of girl-on-girl dancing.

Tisuby y Georgina: I have yet to figure out which one is Tisuby and which one is Georgina. They both dance around in skimpy outfits to poorly counterfeited Stones riffs. They’re rebels, or, like, something.

Matt and I are back from our 10 days stateside, and because I’m too lazy to write a real column, I’m making a list.

Rules and Regulations for a Shannon-Style Vacation

When making a side trip to Laughlin, Nevada, aka "Ghetto Vegas", do not attempt to play Spanish 21 in Spanish. This rule applies double after three Bloody Marys.

 Also, do not eat an In-N-Out cheeseburger immediately after said Bloody Marys, unless you have a stomach made of iron.

Special Rule for Skye and Merrill: tip your waitress and your blackjack dealer. It is not necessary to tip other players, and in fact in may weird them out.

However dirty it may sound, a "Tongue Burrito" is a legitimate entrée in Los Angeles ethnic restaurants.

Do not mock Skye’s Hapsburg-level inbred cat, no matter how many times it stares at you cross-eyed.

Rodeo Drive has more people taking pictures of people shopping than actual shoppers. 

Don’t see a movie with an unemployed friend, as they’ve seen just about everything. You’ll wind up spending 9 bucks on White Chicks.

When flying Continental Drift Airlines, assume your flight will be late and you’ll only have an hour to get through Customs and Immigration.

Colombian airports were designed by a ten-year-old with ADD. Expect two disorganized check in lines, which then swap positions so everyone must crawl over each other.

 Do not drink an entire glass of Aguardiente under any circumstances. Except maybe a dare.

Ah-CHOO!

I've been sick for a month now - is that even biologically possible? Having a cold at high altitude is an interesting experience, thin air coupled with codeine is the cheapest buzz there is.

I've found that my dreams get really weird when I'm sick. Last night I dreamed that Matt and I moved back to Woodbridge and bought the house I grew up in. However, when we moved in, we discovered that the house was ten times as big on the inside as it was on the outside - sort of a middle class suburban TARDIS. It had a bowling alley, movie theater, stables, and an indoor swimming pool. I also had a dream where I was a roadie for Metallica, and another where I was a professional juggler. Analyses can be sent to mybrilcareer@yahoo.com.

I've also discovered that even with my supremely slack work schedule, when I'm sick I get nothing done. I Netflixed Chicago four months ago and have yet to watch it. My hair is a relative hill of kudzu, as I haven't cut it since I moved here. This website collects dust, my emails go unanswered, and books go unread. I haven't even watched a 90210 rerun in weeks. Instead, I chug Nyquil and tell people I've "got the consumption."

I'm hoping a return to normal altitude will help, as Matt and I leave for 10 days in LA on Saturday. I'll hopefully be more coherent when I return.

Some personal messages: Jason and Merrill, update your websites. Your bored housewife constituency needs you. Happy 1st birthday to Collin Queen, thank you to Rob Anderson for explaining penalty kicks, and everyone watch the Amazing Race premiere tonight!

Of Politics and Press Releases

One of the great things about living abroad is that I can remain oblivious to the news stories of my choice. Reagan's death has slipped past me for several reasons, the most important of which is that I thought he was already dead.

I've often heard that it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but I don't think that means it's necessary to whip out the idolatry. Remember when Nixon died and became a "great statesman"? Yeah, I laughed a bit too. Reagan was the president of my childhood (he was elected two years after I moved to the U.S., and left office when I was 12). He was also the president of Iran-Contra, he stood by while people whose lifestyle he disapproved of died of AIDS, and worst of all, he misintrepreted Springsteen lyrics! "Born in the U.S.A." is not patriotic!

Now for the main event. I've also been following this story with great glee: From the Post

As most of you know, I worked for Alan Secrest for two and a half years. I signed a confidentiality agreement a few years back, so unfortunately I can’t say whether I think Alan is telling the truth. I also don't believe in being negative about someone in print, even just on my blog. I can say I've been cackling all the way from Bogota. I can also legally and morally discuss the reporting of the story.

Where's the beef? With the Washington Post. An accusation of anti-Semitism is made against a Congressman, the letter is leaked to the press, and the Post just throws it onto the front page of the Metro section without any backup. How's that for journalistic integrity? So far, there is no proof of what Congressman Moran did or did not say. Alan is refusing to be specific, and no one else at the meeting in question says that anything happened. You'd think one of the nation's leading newspapers would do better than he said-she said, especially when their source is a letter from a disgruntled former vendor.

Not to mention the lazy reporting and research the Post provided. Here's some of the ways the firm has been described in the Washington Post: “Secrest, a prominent Alexandria-based pollster who has run 300 successful campaigns for Democratic members of Congress” and “one of the most successful pollsters in the nation” and, finally “A pollster for decades, Secrest has run the firm of Cooper & Secrest since 1985. Since then, the firm has helped elect more than 300 members of Congress and hundreds of state legislators and city council members.“ It took me a while to realize why it all sounded so familiar. Those descriptions are (only slightly) paraphrased from CSA press releases and marketing materials.. I've read them a hundred times when putting together proposals. They couldn't find an independent resource to describe the firm and its accomplishments?

Oh, and from Moran’s opponent: "Alan Secrest is a nationally renowned and respected pollster, with an impeccable reputation. For him to take a stand like this, especially only one week in front of an election, speaks volumes about Congressman Moran and the things he must have said." Or, Rosenberg, you could consider your own reputation and integrity, and not pass along a rumor. Sigh.

For the record, I hope Moran gets reelected, only because he's amusing as all hell. Has another Congressman ever attacked an 8-year-old child for allegedly attempting to steal his car? Or blamed the Iraq war on the Jews? Or, best of all, had the police come to his home after both his girlfriends showed up on his birthday and began a catfight? I didn't think so. Rock on, Jim Moran.