Category: Shallow
Who Says the French Aren’t With Us?

Actress and Johnny Depp’s baby mama Vanessa Paradis shows her support for the Iraqi elections.
Play On, Playa
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to edit the financial black hole and editorial snooze that is Playboy magazine? With Playboy: The Magazine, a new game for Xbox, you can. After a little practice, you couldn’t do much worse than Christie Hefner. For those of you who only play Playboy for the pictures, here are some exciting screencaps from the game:

A successful magazine launch is always fun for the serious gamer.

Unless that’s a 30,012 word essay, I’d pass.

Nothing says party at the grotto like a formal handshake with “rockstar” Uncle Kracker.
(Screenshots courtesy Gamespot)
Since The New Yorker‘s a double this week, and Andy Borowitz has been spreading himself a bit thin lately, I’m gonna take bad comedy matters into my own hands.
Here’s something twice as unfunny as you’re likely find on The Times op-ed page or in The New Yorker‘s ‘Shouts & Murmurs’ and you can read it for free.
If you ask the White House what President Bush is reading these days, the press office will call back with the official list: “His Excellency: George Washington” by Joseph J. Ellis, “Alexander Hamilton” by Ron Chernow and, not least, the Bible.
What the official list omits is Tom Wolfe’s racy new beer- and sex-soaked novel, “I Am Charlotte Simmons.” The president, a fan of Mr. Wolfe, has not only read the book but also is enthusiastically recommending it to friends.
– Bush’s Official Reading List, and a Racy Omission, by Elisabeth Bumiller, The New York Times, Feb. 7, 2005.
Also on George W. Bush’s reading list:
The Five Thousand Dead Iraqi People You Meet in Heaven
Beats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Abu Ghraib
Baby-killers’ Club Friends Forever # 12: Wolfowitz and the Disaster Date
Me Talk Pretty One Day
Blank : The Power of Thinking Without Thinking
He’s Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Gays
Dreams from My Father : A Story of Golf and Inheritance
This I Believe: An A to B of a Life
Things About Which I Am Newly Excited

Ford Mustang convertible
Diet Pepsi (and P. Diddy and Carson Daly and Wilmer Valderrama)
Bubblicious
Olympus M:Rope
Ameriquest Mortgage
FedEx Kinko’s (and Burt Reynolds)
Bud Light (and Cedric the Entertainer )
Volvo (and Virgin Galactic and Richard Branson)
Diet Pepsi (and Cindy Crawford and Carson Kressley)
Godaddy.com (and enormous breasts)
The Longest Yard
Bud Light
The Longest Yard
McDonald’s (and Abraham Lincoln)
The Simpsons
Visa Check Card (and Marvel Comics)
Ameriquest Mortgage
Quizno’s (and Baby Bob)
Ameriquest Mortgage
MBNA (and Gladys Knight and John Travolta)
24 (and nuclear disaster)
American Idol
Things About Which I Am Not Excited
The low culture Consumer Advisory
Perhaps you’ve seen the ads for Marlboro Seventy-Twos in Seventeen magazine, while watching MTV, or at your local youth center. And perhaps, like low culture, you’ve been tempted to find out more about Philip Morris’ newest teen sensation and buy a pack. Don’t.
A quick phone call to the suicide hotline at Philip Morris revealed that the “Seventy Twos” are merely shorter cigarettes. That’s right – no value-added tar, chemicals, toxins or tobacco – it’s just less cigarette at the same obscene price. If the tobacco companies can’t be trusted to offer their consumers the best value, can they be trusted at all? Probably.
Aim High, Vote low (culture, duh)

Okay, we admit we’re not above begging. Please go to The 2005 Bloggies site and vote for us for ‘Best Weblog About Politics’ and ‘Best Group Weblog.’
It means a super lot to us! (Which is why we’re begging!!) And we’ll totally remember you when we’re famous. And, um, we’ll make T-shirts! And we’ll do TV talking head shit. Please, anything. Please, baby, please, baby, baby, baby, please!
Go vote today!
(I’m Matt Haber, and I approve this message.)
For Ruth, the O.C., florid and pure
So,
there it was.
The endowment was bequested
(requested?)
to POETRY magazine.
The Eli Lilly widow’s 2003
was a banner year
for gifts, for life, for language,
and
you’ve felt a renewed hope for
your dead, dead
(Empty? Forsaken? Barren?)
Poetry. Poesy, posies…
You prey upon the culture
around you, within you, upon you
and you are Us. And
You are thus told, nay
commanded, commandeered, commended
to know about The O.C..
Newport. The lives of the rich
(Empty? Forsaken? Barren?)
in turn prey upon you.
And you love Seth Cohen. Desire
knows not these constraints,
these passionate ties
of 8 through 9pm on Thursdays.
They occur
religiously
regularly
gaily
gleefully
And you take a breath (deeply!). And
contain your desire, and
sit up in your couch, and
Grab your notepad.
Are you pretty sexy?
What sort of knickers are you wearing?
These are not lines that Seth would ask of you.
He listens not to you, but he reads
and, verbally, you smile upon him (deeply!)
And the theme music begins. This
Means you are the Winter to his
Summer.
Actually, I’ve never seen The O.C.; I’m sure it’s pretty good.
The O.C. airs Thursdays at 8PM EST on FOX.
Earlier: O.C.-centric entries, which may or may not avoid both iambic pentameter and high-school caliber angst.

