As the audience settles into their seats at the great World Wide Developers Conference in Cupertino, CA, the air is palpating with excitement. The lights grow dim and an opaque partition slowly rises to reveal a gigantic digital screen above the stage. The audience cant their torsos a little closer, imperceptibly, in their chairs and hang on with clamped breath and pinched buttocks for Apple's CEO and pitchman wunderkind Steve Jobs to take stage. Everyone has been scouring the blogs, starting office pools, and chattering non-stop about the potential announcements at this year's event. Not surprisingly, Jobs enters the stage in his usual attire--mock turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers. A hush befalls the eager crowd as Jobs begins his proselytization:

I want to thank David Pogue for that marvelous lead-in. David Pogue of the New York Times, everyone! (Audience applauds. Jobs takes a sip of bottled water) First I want to say 6 million iPhones and counting. Wow! That's just incredible. (Whoops, Hollers. Audience giggling with excitement for the big announcement) Now I bet you're wondering what's next. I know. I DO have the internet (Holds up running 2G iPhone with Macrumors blog displayed. Polite, nerdy laughter emanates from the seats).

A while ago I thought to myself 'I wonder how we can keep Apple as a major player in the market over the next 5 years?'. Technology is increasing at an exponential pace. Consumer demand and desire is becoming harder to predict. What will be the next big thing, the next must-have toy for the businessman, the student, the teenager? Well I have the answer, and the answer is 3G.

Thats right, Apple's next big product is the 3Gigabyte iPod shuffle.

Featuring a new sleek, portable design, multiple colors for maximum style, and extended battery life, the 3Gig Shuffle is set to revolutionize the way we listen to music, and all in a compact package for a low price. Featuring an additional gigabyte of storage space over the 2 gig shuffle, 30 extra minutes of battery life, and an adjustable lanyard dongle, the new shuffle is slated to be Apple's most talked about product of all time (begins slide-show)

After conducting multiple double-blind research tests on consumer groups, we've souped up this puppy with some of today's hottest colors. Off-white (slide). Taupe (slide). Ochre (slide). Brackish (slide). And finally Grape (slide).

While the 3G shuff still does not feature a screen or a touch-wheel, nor does it allow you to select the songs you wish to listen to, we put some of our top-tech guys working round the clock on some cool new features that are going to blow you away. Lets see what they came up with.

First, we decided to do away with the skip-song feature on the front in order to make room for a new button: the iTap (slide). What does the iTap do? Well, it provides you with a seamlessly integrated metronomic scale function with realtime audiowave synthesis. In other words, this little guy tells you the beats per minute of the song you are listening to.

If that doesn't rock your world, this next feature will.

An all-new proprietary headphone jack (slide).

That's right. After much hard work and deliberation, we realized that only the best and truly soundworthy headphones that exist in the world right now are the Apple earbuds. Which is why we soldered on an additional ring around the headphone jack to ensure that those buds are the ONLY headphones you use to listen to your music at the optimal level. We wouldn't want music fans to hear their tunes purchased through the iTunes store any other way.

Oh yeah, and to ensure that listeners are receiving top-notch audio quality, we made the sure that new 3gig shuffle only plays authorized, DRM-encrypted music purchased from the iTunes store.



The Zune Killer, Unveiled



Finally, we've added a .0000000005 megapixel camera to the outside of the shuffle (slide). This gadget is a "snap" for taking great pics on the go. Simply point the shuffle, guesstimate if anything is in the frame at all, click a complex sequence of buttons, connect to your Mac with a special firewire cable (sold seperately), download the latest version of iLife '08 and separate drivers for the shuffle, import your photo, re-expand the compressed file via a 3rd-party expander, drag and drop the file into iPhoto, blow up the file to a viewable size, and presto, you've got a picture, hopefully, of something or someone, possibly. It's a great, compact solution for wonderful pictures and I've been using it at family gatherings for a while now.

You guys, this product is great. Go to your nearest Apple store and pick one up. They're only $299 with a 3 year .Mac account contract. Speaking of .Mac, guess what!

(continues on...)

Things Indie Bands Like #2: Unnecessary Band Members

A lot of the times you'll go to an indie show and look on stage and wonder "why hasn't that guy/girl done anything for 20 minutes?" While this statement said aloud may get you stares--as indie music fans generally don't like talking, let alone movement, at their shows--you may have fully pointed out the largest, pinkest elephant in the indie music scene: the unnecessary band member.

The origin of the unnecessary band member can be traced to indie music's roots; that is, the fact that at one point or another, the band's roadie/manager/girlfriend got tired of watching from behind the off-stage and wished to join in on the fun or else they would quit/leave/break-up with the band. The tracing of the foundations of this phenomena strangely parallels the popularization of this instrument.

The epitome, and paradoxically the exception to the rule, of unnecessary indie band members is Joel Gion, who you may remember as the guy on the cover of the movie Dig, a documentary about The Brian Jonestown Massacre. Joel pretty much stood on stage and caught Anton Newcombe whenever he passed out in the middle of an angry diatribe or coked-out guitar solo, so, although the euphemism is often reserved for the drummer, one could say Joel was literally and metaphorically the backbone of the band. He also had cool shades and could dance really well, which elevated his status from unofficial band manager to full-time band member.

Other examples of this are: the cute girl that hits the xylophone for 3 whole-notes every fourth song; the extended family of backup singers in strange garb who are off-key and being paid in beer; the guy who runs around stage and throws out merch; hip-hop "posses"; the skanking guy from The Mighty Mighty Bosstones; DJ's there to add some crazy "scratch effects"; Cello players; anyone that has to physically be on stage to press the spacebar on their macbook; Sid Vicious.

Things Indie Bands Like: #1) Costumes

This new section of Distracted by Words is about Things Indie Bands like. No it is not a rip-off of Stuff White People like, you goof! Indie bands are filled with a variety of ideas and embrace a diverse tapestry of fashion and culture, and are very difficult to pigeonhole like white people are. Fortunately, there are a few universal truths to the Indie Aesthetic which are ripe for the pickin'. And thats why I'm here to judge. Let us begin:



If there was one thing that Indie Bands and the sexual subculture of Furries have in common, its that their love of symbolizing alienation via costumes.

An Indie Band hoping you are giving out king-sized Snickers this year

Although Indie Bands may not have sex with one another while dressed like Fox McCloud or an Easter Bunny, they certainly have no problem conveying emotional disconnect to their fans in this fashion. Glance at some of the popular (but not too popular) music videos on Youtube, and you are bound to find either a flaxen-haired chanteuse or bestubbled lothario of the Indie-ilk either singing to or dressing up as someone in a costume.

Most of this has to do with budgetary limitations, more than anything, as Indie Bands tend to blow all of their promotional advance on vintage synthesizers on eBay, leaving them little recourse other than to dress up their roadie in a banana-suit and have him walk down skid row. This type of video, known in the Indie Music video world as a "24 hour shoot-and-boot", is best for bands that have run out of ideas and need to send something to their labels before the higher-ups completely forget that they signed them. It is also a nice touch to anthropomorphize the costume so the viewers can relate to its googly-eyed emotions.

The Jelly Donut that made Lady Sovereign cry

Also, a fun thing to do as an Indie music enthusiast is go to concerts in costume. This has a doubly positive effect, as it one ups yourself over even the most ridiculously dressed hipster and it shows your allegiance to the group by opting to remain sweat-drenched for 2 hours in a virtual hell-suit instead of wearing sensible, breathable clothing. You most likely will receive accolades from your surrounding peers and, if you're lucky, be asked to appear in the next Animal Collective music video. And if your costume fails to work, maybe there's a Furry convention going on right now in the lobby of the downtown Ramada. Just remember to cut your own holes beforehand.

Hayden Christensen: The Worst Living Actor in America

Pull this string and he talks

Its probably not that controversial of a statement, yet it is one I feel so deeply passionate about, I had to write about it. Go ahead. Scour the internet. Watch all of your old movies you got at the Hollywood Video 5 for $20 sale. Take exit polls of 2nd run movie theaters. I dare you to find a worse headlining actor than Hayden Christensen.

This opinion didn't come to full fruition until the other night when I watched the movie Factory Girl, a so-so flick with Sienna Miller as Edie Sedgewick, Guy Pierce gaying it up as Andy Warhol, and Mena Suvari as some psuedo-lesbian that comes in every once in a while to inject dexadrine into Edie's ass. All well and good, until Mr. Skywalker comes in portraying this guy.

Thats Bob Dylan by the way, in case you though it was maybe Gary Oldman in the new secret Harry Potter movie. Anyway, Christensen does such a horrible Dylan impression its a surprise he wasn't asked to be in I'm Not There. It seriously appears as if he's never seen or heard Bob Dylan in his life; he mumbles a bit, tries to look profoundly through hazy eyes, but other than that, just comes off like his character in Shattered Glass but hungover. It is a staggeringly inaccurate performance and was so cringe-worthy I almost felt compelled to fast-forward to the scenes where Andy Warhol is masturbating to pictures of shirtless men.

Even worse was that I picked up the "Unrated, Uncut, Totally Sexy" edit of this movie, which usually means a few more boobs, possibly ones you don't wish to see, and maybe a visual gag involving semen. Little did I know it would mean one of the least sexy, most excruciatingly long love scenes involving the Worst Living Actor in America in what can only be described as Robert Goulet's Love Den.

The sheepskin rug that roughed it through multiple takes of Christensen's adolescent thrusting

The scene was very difficult on my boner, as it had a very hot Sienna Miller and then a very awkward and confused teenager with a faux-pompadour pretending like he knew how to take a bra off. Anyway, watch this movie and you'll really have to struggle not to agree with me. I'm surprised hes gotten such large roles, considering he should be in Uli Lommel films. Well, lets maybe not go that far.


Okay, lets go through the checklist. Make readers throw-up. Check. Establish Hayden Christensen as horrible. Check. Hmmm... sideswipe I'm Not There. Yep. There's gotta be one other thing. Oh yeah, I know. Tease my next blog. Here's a hint; see if you can guess what it is going to be about!

No, its not about ugly basketball players, but close!

The Greatest Job I Ever Had

Welcome to my inaugural Positive Blog, where I only blog about things that make me happy, and give the reader, you, a warm, fuzzy feeling in that dark pit of despair during these gloomy, troubled times. This blog is about the greatest job I ever had. The reason for this topic? Because its topical. And why is it topical? Because I held it yesterday. But only for one day.

Nope, but close.

As reconciliation for not getting any love on Valentine's day, God (or Job. I hear he's in the bible...God of Employment?) gave me a wonderful present: a promotional job at a ski-resort. And what did I have to do for the entire, glorious, sun-soaked day? That's right. Snowboard and do tricks off of jumps.

Clocking in for a hard-day's worth of work

I basically snowboarded up and down the mountain representing (or representin') Emergen-C vitamin C drink. I wore a large, bright-blue backpack, occasionally handed out the packets like your favorite neighborhood drug-dealer, and busted gnarly tricks off of sick-ass jumps. Oh, and I got to ride for free, plus another free lift ticket. And I got paid a lot. And, the icing on the cake: I won a free pair of socks. 

Socks: the black sheep of the cake-icing-metaphor industry

So, in honor of this being the first annual Positive Blog, I'd like to get a little Positive Feedback from those who read this blog. What is the best job you, the reader, have ever held? And, what cool stuff, if any, did you end up stealing/walking away with accidentally/handed and told "this is yours to keep, for free" at the job?

Please comment! I need to generate enough ad-revenue to pay for all of these copyrighted photos I keep stealing.

Blog War: The Black Dahlia

An epic duel between two bloggers regarding the scandalous frock-line of Lady Guinevere

Welcome to my first, and quite possibly last, installment of Blog Wars. In this episode, I go tete-a-tete against the formidable Lady Nordeen AKA Heather the Chaste, a seasoned veteran in the blog game. The topic: the 2006 movie Black Dahlia. No no no, not THE Black Dahlia, the critically panned Brian De Palma flick starring Scarlett Johansson, dummy! I would never spend 3.99 of my hard-earned cash at my local mom-and-pop Blockbuster for a movie that got 34% on Rottentomatoes.com. We got the Ulli Lommel classic Black Dahlia, which, at the time, had NO critical ratings ANYWHERE, thus we knew we were in for a diamond-in-the-rough, cinematic treat. Or a steaming, fetid pile of dog-shit that no one would touch with a 10-foot hazmat pole.

Anyway! Here is my submission into the fray. Let the Blog War begin!

ULLI LOMMEL'S The Black Dahlia

Over the course of my life I have witnessed all sorts of Bad. Camp Bad. Ironic Bad. Bad Bad. Revolting Bad. Bad the Creeps up on You. Bad that hurts your Forehead. Bad the leaves a Bad-Hangover for a Week. Even Bad that leaves Bad-Bugs rabidly crawling over your skin from a particularly atrocious Bad-Binge. The best kind of Bad movies are the kind that you can hunker down with a friend, throw a bunch of peanut gallery comments at, and WALK AWAY from with a feeling of superiority and minimal amount of residual discomfort. The worst kind of bad, on the other hand, are those that make you question Existence, re-evaluate your feeling of living in America, and worst of all, who you are friends with. It is with much chagrin that I have to say, Ulli Lommel's Black Dahlia, in short, is the absolute worst movie I have ever seen in my entire life. And the reason I am filled with such sorrow, is that my good friend, Christopher Woolsey, was kidnapped by Ulli and his gang and forced at rubber knife-point to star in this horrible, horrible movie.

Christopher Woolsey AKA Sutton Christopher. Photo taken shortly before disappearing.

Before I launch into this movie, I want to make this clear: Chris is my friend and I would never slam him; I think he is a very fine and capable actor that desperately needed money and was lucky enough to get paid movie work down in LA. That being said, it is unfortunate that he ended up in this incomprehensible pile of garbage. 

Black Dahlia capitalizes on the torture-porn craze sweeping the multiplexes by essentially being a sequence of shots of young ingenues being systematically murdered at a "casting call". There really isn't much else to it, really. Interspersed is a pathetic detective "back-story" involving the cold case of the Black Dahlia--a notorious real-life case of a young starlet who was gruesomely murdered in the late 40's--and a shit-load of additive-dissolve bursts and ambient whispering. Thats REALLY it. You could read this whole paragraph and probably take away more from it than watching the actual movie.

My genuine hope for this movie is that it be revitalized 20 years later a la Troll 2 and shown at midnight screenings, though its so revoltingly bad I'm not sure people would be able to muster the energy to lob insults and/or food at the screen.

Lady Nordeen, additional thoughts?

lbk

Juno: Stop the Madness

Though it will never, ever happen, the 9 most feared words in the human language right now are And the Academy Award for Best Picture Goes to Juno. And not because it is wrong, or it proves once and for all the Oscars are entirely irrelevant, or because having to read that off of a script without laughing breaks WGA code, but because of the horror, oh the horror, that will ensue once the studios realize not only does indie over-preciousness equal box-office gold, but it can be sweet gold statue-bait as well. And this means, oh yes, this means my friends, year-round, factory-assembled hipster garbage will be pumped out at the same rate of J-horror remakes and Tyler Perry films. Which is to say, we will be literally buried in twee. 

So why didn't I like Juno? It has a lot of things going for it, thats for sure. I love Michael Cera and Jason Bateman. I enjoy the movies of Judd Apatow, even though he had absolutely nothing to do with Juno. Oh, and I do love strippers, especially when they can turn the tables they occasionally stand on and go from being exploited to doing the exploiting (in this case, the commercialization of indie culture).

Cody Diablo, wondering whether to use MLA or Chicago-Style editing

Then what did put me off? Juno starts out with an indie-by-numbers approach to filmmaking. Main character has established, albeit superficial, quirk? Check. Title sequence done over a handmade looking animation sequence? Double check. Does the main song have a whimsical, earnest quality that evokes feelings of childhood and/or sounds like it could possibly be a song originally intended for children? Check and Mate.

All is forgiven for a movie like this, though, if a script has a good, natural flow and quality dialogue. Diablo's method of screenwriting appears to be coin as many catchphrases and deliver enough quips to satisfy an hour-and-a-half long prime-time sitcom. Its good to have clever dialogue in a movie, but having every other line work-in some sort of pop-culture reference ("honest to blog", which may become this blog's new header, is one that seems to gather the most hatred from critics) or witty retort can easily make once was an aspiring movie look like a bad episode of Gilmore Girls.

Although the tidal wave of cutesy, quippy lines of dialogue tend to annoy, the final weight that sank the SS Juno for me was the sappy and contrived placement of lightweight indie music within the film. Although the soundtrack stands alone pretty well for containing some great Belle and Sebastian and Belle and Sebastian-ish tracks, their forceful entry into the movie is almost laughably ludicrous. Its the equivalent to being repeatedly smashed over the head with a twee-pop hammer, and it has the same, disorienting and derailing effect.

And because of its success, it is only certain now that the dawn of Juno copy-cats is upon us now. Like moths to the light, Hollywood execs are scrambling to assemble the next adorably hip, Movie-Of-Our-Generation, and probably hoping an ex-Circe du Soleil acrobat will have written it so every single entertainment rag, newspaper, and blog will write about it. In fact, the dawn of this age seems to already have come upon us (although I don't think, unfortunately, this one was written by anyone from a french-clown background).

Did punch-up for No Country for Old Men

So if Juno does get the accolades it so-much-doesn't-deserve (there's a decent chance Diablo's rags-to-riches backstory may sway the Academy to give her best original screenplay), we have nothing to look forward to but jugs of Sunny D and orange tic-tacs in our horizons, ill-placed children's sing-a-longs, and the tendency to emphasize quirk over character-development in our horizons. So do us all a favor, and if you want to see the movie, and still don't trust me, watch it illegally on the internet. Then maybe there will only be 10 of these things tops this year.