"Mad Men"? More like "Makes-Me-Question-All-Meaning Men"...

I’ve come out of retirement to talk about a show that should rightfully only be watched by retired folks: “Mad Men.” A slow-burning dissection of an early 1960s advertising agency doesn’t scream youth like the sex-puffed “Gossip Girl,” but damn if protagonist Don Draper (a dapper Jon Hamm) doesn’t get me hot. Years of serial drama consumption has added gripping characters to my list of sure-fire get-offs, even if Don’s beyond my gender-of-choice (he's the puzzled one on the right).



But here’s a rallying cry for all those who were scared away from the show by its antiquity or are afraid to admit their fandom. After all, this is the era that our grandparents thrived within — and envisioning them as hot, young-ish, sexually repressed baby boomers is not exactly life goal #1. Like any good TV, however, Mad Men succeeds because it seamlessly streams the viewers’ lives through its characters. Insert the pre-election frenzy of Kennedy vs. Nixon, the birth of the culture wars and all sorts of relationship fail (you think marriage is bad now? Try 1960! The infidelity is beautiful!) and you get a perfect mirror of contemporary life in the guise of the golden oldies.

Unfortunately, I haven’t had a chance to crack the second season of the critics hit — though it’s hovering around my computer like a seductive wasp. In the first, Don is success — beyond a high-paying, creative, respectable job, a damn fine wife, tons of off-the-record job perks, and the responsibility of effectively shaping American media culture, what do you need? The downfall, of course, is Don’s soul-crushing past and murky future: ah, yes, this man of manliness and mystery is actually enveloped in the worst identity crisis probably ever, fighting against his own destructive tendencies, the trials of an assumed persona, and total sadness. I won’t give any more away – but this stuff is dark dark dark. The first-season-finale marks only the second time a TV show made me cry (props go to #1, “Six Feet Under”), and these were tears of emptiness. Sounds emo. Probs is emo. But absolutely no eye makeup involved.

Of course, all this is structured and colored much better than this sad return to blog writing. Apologies for the ramble. I’ll practice the whole journalism thing again and get back to you. As always, keep the peace.

~Paul Sorenson

it's called reality, folks, and it's time to wake up to it.

Who else out there is looking back on the Iowa/Iowa State game weekend in a state of shock and disgust? The outcome of the football game was great, of course, but outside the stadium neither the Hawkeyes nor the Cyclones represented themselves very well. Some of the completely irresponsible happenings in the bars, Ped Mall, and other parts of Iowa City on Saturday simply crossed the line of having a "good time." Yes, the game weekends are fun, and its great to have friends in town, but there's a point when it becomes apparent that our generation of drunken frolickers has growing up to do. We may be independent, we may be in college, we may be (or nearly be) 21, but a lot of us are not adults.

Don't worry college students, we're not the only ones that need to wake up to reality. No, the complete disregard of respect and responsibility starts even earlier, say the age of 16. It's laid out on national television with MTV's show My Super Sweet Sixteen, where teenage wannabe princesses whine and cry if daddy doesn't buy them that brand new car or that brand new dress. And we indulge them all the more by paying attention and watching.

One reality show, however, may actually do some good for these young adults we love to hate. On Exiled, the girls of Super Sweet Sixteen aren't thrown a lavish party; they're shipped off by their parents to spend a week in a third world country. Suddenly, the so-called difficulties of wealthy American life don't seem so bad when the girls are walking four hours to fetch water for an African village, slaughtering their own food, and sleeping in a hut on a dirt floor.





For once, "reality" television is giving its stars and viewers a taste of what reality in a lot of the world is like, away from the American bubble. Whether or not the experience makes an impact on the spoiled teens, I respect the show's premise. Maybe it would do binge drinking American college students some good to be "exiled," as well.


Claire

Queen B.

So, the VMA's came and went, providing the mediocrity we've come to expect in recent years. Rihanna donned hair extensions for a disappointingly lackluster rendition of "Disturbia," Christina Aguilera debuted her new single with bizzare eyeliner... yadda yadda yadda.

When the most scandalous moment is Jordin Sparks saying the word "slut" over the mic, you know there's a problem. Let's face it: the days of purple-pasties and Madonna make-out sessions are over.

But in her typical fashion, one woman managed to steal the show - and this time, she didn't even show her belly button:

The one, the only, Ms. Britney Spears.


After weeks of speculation, Brit Brit heard her name called three times - yes, a TRIO - at the Video Music Awards on Sunday, ending a career long losing streak at the MTV awards. (Somewhere, Susan Lucci is crying tears of approval.)

And really, it's about time.

For all of the attention Britney has given the VMAs through her snake-charming, suit-stripping performances and iconic music videos, you'd think they would have returned the favor at some point, especially in her heyday (try denying the epicness that was the red "Oops!...I Did It Again" catsuit. TRY). But alas, MTV has simply exploited her viewer-magnet persona.

Perhaps a guilty conscience finally drove "Music" Television to give one of their most bankable stars the award she's been patiently waiting for for years. Or maybe the competition really wasn't that stiff this time around (because in all honesty, the "Piece of Me" video wasn't all that great). In my opinion, MTV once again knew that by giving Britney three awards, that would draw just as much attention as, say, her infamous failure at last year's ceremony. Good planning on MTV's part, but it's we the viewers who suffer.

It's a bit sad when the actual awards presented at the VMAs overshadow the outlandish performances. A note to whoever is planning (and performing at) the 2009 go-round: Step up your game. You know the VMA show is one of the easiest ways to quickly get yourself some publicity and to raise your status. Take advantage of it, because when you shine, everyone beneifts.

Or at least I do, because then I'll have something to fuel my lame jokes and gossip instinct for at least a few weeks.

-Jake.

Shawn Johnson's Taco. Enough said.

I just wrote an entire blog entry on my slightly-inappropriate-but-not-entirely-concealed love for Shawn Johnson. It was quite good, I'd say.

But, the meat of the post was her latest product endorsement and the ensuing commercial. It felt too wrong to elaborate on my crush (though I must justify that we are only a couple years apart!) on such a ... creepy .... note.

This really doesn't need much explanation; Johnson claims Ortega really "makes my taco pop!" Oh.



I feel like a creep just posting it, but really.

—Brian Stewart

Opinion of the Evening

Popcorn ceilings suck. Go tin.

-Kathleen

Just like old times...

I'm watching Miss Congeniality on Bravo for the second time in a row right now. It's time to do something more productive. [For the oh-so-curious: right now is the scene where Sandra Bullock dives into the crowd to thwart a potential shooter... COMEDIC GENIUS!]

Anyway, I'm writing this blog to address the fact that, at the age of 20, I'm starting to feel old.

Not old in the sense that my knees are failing or I notice that kids these days don't remember an honest day's work. But old in the idea that pop culture trends are starting right under my nose, and I didn't detect the slightest whiff until they became full-blown phenoms.

I'm talking, of course, about the Jonas Brothers - or the JoBros, for the super hip. Being a frequent peruser of trashtastic gossip blog Oh No They Didn't!, I was made well aware of their hair - er, presence - a long time ago, but like so many things on said blog (Shauna Sand, anyone?), I thought they were just an internet elitist type deal.

But lo and behold, the three musically-inclined sibs have topped the charts and have caused oodles of tweenybopper tears to be shed. And yet, just a few weeks ago was the first time I heard their music - and at my own efforts, mind you.


Not Pictured: fourth member Flatiron Jonas.

I see the Jonas Brothers' appeal: attractive young dudes with good hair and guitars. But the JB wave didn't hit me until a younger generation pushed them to the top, with no help from me whatsoever. This is the first moment I have felt "left out" - as if I'm not part of the up-and-coming anymore. No longer is there a seat saved for me at the kids' table of pop culture. It sucks. I finally know what all those big kids were feeling when I, a mere 13-year-old novice to pop culture, helped Ms. Britney Spears become the ~*~living legend~*~ she is today: confusion, depression, and gut-wrenching sorrow. So, as a snob who prides himself on pretending to know more about pop culture than the average citizen but it still way to cool to admit it (oops, just blew that cred), I'm having a hard time coping with this feeling. Especially when it's being prompted by today's preteens.

Maybe I'm just jealous that these kids can enjoy sugar pop-tarts without ridicule. I mean, come on, just because I have a few Miley Cyrus songs in my iTunes library, right below the MGMT album, doesn't make me a hypocrite, right? Right? I take pride in my guilty pleasures, thank you very much, so I will no longer have shame in the disproportionate play count listed next to "See You Again."

So, this post is dedicated to all of us who have prematurely felt like an old fogie at the hands of kids who don't even know the Pythagorean theorem yet. And, oddly enough, the JoBros are barely out of that age bracket.

-Jake.

Pimp at age 3, extraordinarily less cool at age almost 22.

Well I'm not sure about the rest of the University of Iowa community, but I thought Chuck Klosterman's lecture last night was off the chain. AKA he is my favorite author and I drooled the entire time, guffawed at all his jokes, and enjoyed my perpetual glee all night long. Can't wait for his new book to come out!

So school started, buzzzzzkill. In upcoming news, Thanksgiving break is approaching. But seeing as we are facing a new season, we know what that means. Another playlist that I will pore over for weeks, perfecting and honing, that ultimately no one will read or care about except me.

"Da new hits", or, "sorry to waste your time, and I know I said it last time, but this one's the best"

• "Everyday it's 1989"- Moby (Extended sidenote: TG that everyday is not 1989, though. I personally survived approximately 37 earaches in the year 1989, as well as a crippling lack of hair and a perplexing streak of lying. I once convinced my parents for no apparent reason that I had kissed a boy at preschool, and to this day, they won't believe that I made it up. They asked me, at age 3, "Well, Ann, what happened when you kissed Christopher?" to which I responded, "Well, he liked it." This day would serve as an indication for how the rest of my life would not go.)
• "Say So"- Uh Huh Her
• "Time to Pretend"- MGMT. It is my understanding that everyone is now over this band, but seeing as I've illegally acquired it song by song over time, this one is my new favorite. "This is our decision/to live fast and die young/We've got the vision, now let's have some fun./Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do./Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute." Doesn't that sound AWFUL? I'm rapidly approaching age 22, and for me, that means I better have enjoyed my youth whilst it lasted.)
• "Lip Gloss"- Lil Mama. She so hot! See my earlier post from late July/early August on this topic.
• "Crawl"- Kings of Leon. It's not getting old yet, and I foresee a bright future between myself and this song.
• "Konichiwa Bitches"- Robyn. ya wanna rumble in mah jungle? so perverse, so awesome.
• "Sex on Fire"- KOL again. This is the grownup version/equivalent of what Christopher was trying to tell me all those years ago. Except, that scene never took place, so... 3-year-old Annie should have known she was doomed.
• "Academia"- Sia feat. Beck
• "Lex"- Ratatat. My dad recently heard me playing this song, and said to me, "Hey, I like this song." which is pretty monumental, considering my dad considers most of my music to be akin to the sounds of things dying (see: Radiohead) (his opinion of course) I immediately was ecstatic and tried to convert him altogether to alternative rock, but he told me he was content listening to Latin music (note: NOT latino music, but Latin, like the cryptic dead language Latin.) and a little Smashmouth/Shrek soundtrack/Fleetwood Mac if he's feelin' funky. another disclaimer: my dad is actually incredibly cool. and if he ever reads this, which is not likely, he will call me to complain that I have misrepresented him. I am extremely confused why this photograph is appropriate for this blogpost, but it came up when I google image searched "cool Latin."
• "The Wrath of Marcie"- The Go! Team. I have previously always been vehemently against bands with punctuation in their names, but I will let this one slide.
• "I want you (she's so heavy)"- Dana Fuchs/Joe Carpio/Joe Anderson. This is the cover from the Across the Universe soundtrack, for which my roommate ridicules me because "that is NOT the beatles." I am aware of this, but I still like it.


But alas, class approaches like a small cloud of doom. Today, I am sharing an essay I wrote about anxiety, and I sense that my classmates will think I am extraordinarily troubled/awkward/edgy based upon this essay. Therefore I am also going to bring my MacBook to class so they will think I am simultaneously cool, in addition to having this absurd obsession with my worries.

SPANKS!
-Ann

Sex sells — and thankfully, someone is thirsty!

I won't try to deny it — sex and food mix quite well. Now, get your minds out of the gutter — I'm talking sex appeal, not merely sex. And let's be honest — sex sells.

(If you don't believe me that the libido can lure buyers, just check out any of the recent Axe deodorant "Bom Chicka Wah Wah" ads, the now-infamous then-controversial suggestive (in the most orally of ways) Puma ads, or just walk past an Abercrombie and Fitch, plug you nose, and peek in.)

Yet sex has been selling everything from vacuum cleaners

to cars

to condos

and even to toilet paper.


But the line between sex and food might have just been erased — at least in the mind of anyone old enough to know what sexual intentions are – in the latest U.K. commercial for Orangina, a orangey carbonated drink I enjoyed several times during class parties in high school French.

With an aggressive (and, so it appears, aggressively horny) bear, clips of female animals being drenched in orange liquid, and a scene showing Orangina bottles exploding between the legs of zebras, I can't recall a time when food has ever been so sexually charged. This beats, by far, the ad for an Italian pasta maker once thought to be a bit too erotic:


While sex will always sell even the strangest of products, what's your take on the video below? Has sex appeal gone too far when companies are using graphically animated animals to push us to, seemingly, "Be sexy, drink Orangina!" with commercials?

Orangina
by Jsp88

Personally, I'm not a huge fan of the drink. I'm also not incredibly concerned with sex selling foods. Or the link between sex and food (I mean, I loved the photo shoot Top Chef host Padma Lakshmi and some babyback ribs did for GQ.)

So for now, sex up the carbonated drink commercials all you want. But the day I see my favorite vendor at the farmers' market in a bikini "bom chicka wah wah"-ing some produce, I'm going to have to put my foot down.

Oh, and I won't even start on the extreme and overt raciness of every Dolce & Gabbana ad ever published (or banned). You can Google Image that one yourselves.

—Brian S

Landlocked blues? Hardly.

Classes start on Monday. Boo.
But before then, get your indie movie groove on at this weekend's Landlocked Film Festival, which starts tonight and runs through Sunday night. For a complete list of films, panels, workshops, and showtimes, visit the fest's website at landlockedfilmfestival.org. And for a fabulous story about the whole shindig, read my sweet 80 Hours front!!!!!! Please?

To whet your whistle, here are trailers from some of the films mentioned in the article, as well as some that just looked downright good.


Beneath the Mississippi (shot here in Iowa)



Carissa



Cave Women on Mars



Stash




Alaska Far Away



Alcatraz Reunion



Ancestor Eyes



Plainview



But that's not all! Here are links to many more:
Illegal Use of Joe Zopp - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CyM6mp98Ek
Cathedral Park - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKRUfK-dO_g
Remarkable Power! - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9t6wQ3q4qI
The Flyboys - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kp-pjjnqFGg
The Wretched - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyByVytpaLI
Finding Kraftland (clips) - http://www.youtube.com/user/WarmButterDesign
Katrina's Children - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJS_Q53tSHE
King in Chicago - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmtSJVW9mVA
More Shoes - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYnfuIL72-c
Pipeline - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPaHNPCVoRs
Pond Hockey - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfTLm6cjCJQ
The Life Penalty - http://www.thelifepenalty.com/
Vaccine Nation - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUMZ-O-OsG0
Alicja Wonderland - http://www.alicjawonderland.com/trailer.htm
American Jouster - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJ9lHDdjOzs
It's In the Blood: Leo Abshire & the Cajun Tradition - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bP6it2IsfrE
Lost Nation: The Ioway - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKyebinVDiM
This American Gothic - http://www.room135.com/index.html


There you have it. If I had a way to put popcorn online, I would have included it here.

A Woof Woof Here, A Syndicated Pet Dining Show There...

If you missed the news that Rachel Ray is launching a line of dog food, with a feline mix in the works, then you probably have a life that resembles some sort of world where FoodTV isn't your only source of headlines. (Or, you don't read the DI — shame!)

But on Gallery of the Absurd, the web page of the artist who calls herself "14," things get quite a bit creepier. 14 mocks a few other celebrity chefs with fake pet meals:


In addition to 14's proposed chick'n and dumplins, Paula Deen plans to introduce a deep fat fried doggie biscuit, rolled in 3 pounds of bacon, drizzled with melted butter and then dusted with 2 bags of powdered sugar and garnished with a Krispy Kreme donut.

So, what's your take? Have celebrity chefs gone too far? Or, by the time I'm nearing a mid-life crisis, will my beloved FoodTV have succumbed to shows like "Creatures' Chow with Ina Garten" or "Throwdown, then Sit, Roll Over, and Fetch, with Bobby Flay?"

—Brian