LobsterFest Braves Heat with Great Music

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NOTE: All LobsterFest music (except the first KROQ band winner) curated by Mark Sovel, aka @MisterShovel.
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The annual LobsterFest in San Pedro is many things to many people. To some, it's a chance to eat massive amounts of lobster and drink lots of beer. To others, they are there to take their sweetie on a few rides and have some food.

To me (and increasingly to other music cognoscenti), it's about the music. Mr. Shovel's music, to be specific.

Anyone who knows Mark Sovel, aka Mr. Shovel, from Indie 103 (its beloved music director) or his Internet radio project, Radio Free Indie, or from his now must-listen astounding music show every Saturday night from 7-10 pm on Sky Daniels' reinvigorated KCSN (City of Night), knows that his music choices are unique and a quite bit of genius.

On his radio show, you never know if it's going to be a local band, a new artist or a "legend," but whatever the mix, it's intriguing. So, too, with LobsterFest.

I have been dipping my foot into the LobsterFest mix in the past few years, sometimes just going Saturday. Then the last couple years, both Saturday and Sunday. But I know that, for me, I need to hear City of Night from the first note to the last. I need to hear the music composition that Mr. Shovel compiles in its totality.

This year, I made a commitment to hearing LobsterFest from nearly the first note to the last. Listening to every band (I missed the KROQ band winners who were first and also Sara Radle, but other than that, I heard every band). Here are my observations of the weekend.

FRIDAY NIGHT

I'm glad that I missed the only non-Shovel-chosen band of the fest, makes it more pure somehow. My LobsterFest kicked off with Indie favorite Great Northern.

I have long loved their music, but their stage show continues to evoke all the passion of a couple who play music together. It was intense and dramatic. Amazing how two people alone on a stage can whip up such an intense presentation. Loved them, and it was a very fitting beginning.

They were followed by another Radio Free Indie favorite, Races.

They gave a lighter presentation, more of a breather after Great Northern. They were frothy and fun.

Last of the night were local favorite Saint Motel. Here's where Shovel's expertise comes in. Each night, the evening ended (as one would want it to) with an anticipated flavor. A band with a following, which would leave you happily remembering their music as you walked out.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

The theme of Friday night was "Locals Only." All three local bands. All three very different flavors of music, but all hot and worth watching. Saint Motel has a big following with the ladies (being a band of hot young guys).

I loved how this picture turned out: Guys onstage. Girls watching them. Says it all.

SATURDAY

Saturday was about two things: the heat. (Dear GOD, the HEAT!!!!) And the ladies.

For a long time, I was under the misimpression that women's music didn't factor into Mr. Shovel's choices often. I officially and publicly take that statement back. Cause there it was, from Sara Radle to kick it off on Saturday to the huge finish with the Dum Dum Girls (with the stunning Lili Hayden in the middle), Saturday was about all flavors of women.

Oh, and here's another wonderful thing about this year's LobsterFest: in between acts, Mr. Shovel announced all the bands. It gave the whole event a professional cohesion, and made you feel like he was welcoming us to his home with some personally selected music.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

(One sincerely hopes that the management continues this tradition.) Shovel gave us little tidbits about each band (as he does on his radio show).

With Davis Fetter, for example, the second act of the day, he enlightened us that Mr. Fetter's previous band was one we knew and loved from Indie: Venus Infers.

A strong submission. I look forward to hearing more from him.

Here's another thing I've come to learn about the music at Mr. Shovel's LobsterFest. There will be plenty of bands I don't know. (Much as on his radio show.) But by now, Mr. Shovel has made a name around town (and around the world) with his taste-making choices. So I knew that even the bands with strange sounding names were going to be an enjoyable experience.

Here's the first such: Damselles and TC4. Never heard of 'em. But WOW. Wait. Let me show you.

Note where the crowd is (in the shade). The line before them where the sun begins was blistering heat. Blistering. As the shade moved up, the crowd moved up. It was quite comical. Very nearly unbearable, and I'm sure it affected attendance.

Ah, but back to Damselles and TC4:

Those red-hot mamas in their red fringe dresses and lobster hats knocked me out with their sweet harmonies. And the guys in the band were all wearing lobster ties. It was sweetness. So perky, so wonderful. It made the heat much easier to bear.

So remember that name: Damselles and TC4. Another thing about  bands that play LobsterFest (thanks to Mr. Shovel): you'll often see them later on Jimmy Kimmel or Letterman, as they shoot to the top. So actually, remember all these bands' names.

One last shot of the cheeky young lasses:

Loved them.

One such band (soon shooting to stardom, likely) is Youngblood Hawke. As you can see here:

Their hot, touseld-hair singer led a raucous rock set. They were so on fire, at one point, their power blew out.

I had very few quibbles with the presentation of acts at this year's LobsterFest. By and large, I enjoyed it from beginning to end. One such quibble though was with Taiko Project. Mind you, Taiko Project were at last year's LobsterFest. They took my (and everyone else's) breath away. They are a stunning group, an amazing display of musicianship and choreography showcasing the poetry of taiko drumming.

When I spoke of last year's LobsterFest to friends, invariably, they were the first group I mentioned.

So I was really looking forward to seeing them again this year.

What I discovered, though, is that with the combination of the sunshine (beating down) and the heat (even more beating down)... the magic of Taiko Project was lost. They are a band which needs to be seen under cover of darkness, when everyone is quiet and paying attention. People chatting and walking around really doesn't lend itself to seeing Taiko Project.

That said, they are worth seeing, and seeking out.

One of the highlights of this year's LobsterFest, that I'll be speaking about when I talk about it to friends between now and next year's LobsterFest is Lili Hayden. I always had a vague memory of liking her music, but I wasn't sure why, other than I'd heard Mr. Shovel play her. She left an indelible impression this time.

In his introduction, Mr. Shovel spoke about how George Clinton (Parliament Funkadelic) referred to her as "the Jimi Hendrix of violin." Pretty high praise, that. As she was about to prove, well warranted. Wow.

So many things about this performance.

First, on the right side of the stage, there was a guy who continuously painted. Art, during the show. It was amazing.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

But the other art, the music, was just as amazing. Her violin, her voice, her singers. All in all, a stunning and incredible musicianship on display.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

Even now, thinking about how great Lili Hayden was, just makes me swoon. A real highlight. (Photo below, courtesy of Leah Saga.)

Then, to balance her powerful femininity, a whallop of maleness with local boys No.
As the freighters rolled by, No's rock knocked us out.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

At dinner, the night before, my friend and I had been discussing this concept of the "supergroup" (a band made up of members of other bands). The next band, JJAMZ, is such a band. A supergroup. Indie 103 fans will remember Z from The Like (who played Indie's first Christmas party). Others may cotton to the Maroon 5 member of the band. Well, wherever they came from, I love JJAMZ as it is.

Z brought her own brand of girlish femininity, speaking about her transparent top that she spilled water on (girlish giggle). JJAMZ was also quite memorable.

 Many of these bands have their songs prominently playing on Radio Free Indie right now (which I listen to constantly). But of them, JJAMZ's Heartbeat is one of the catchiest. I find myself humming it constantly. Their live peformance of this hit did not disappoint.

As you peruse the crowd throughout the LobsterFest day, you see plenty of people in shorts and just trying to stay cool. Every once in awhile though, you see someone and just know that they have to be in a band. When the statuesque blonde with the black stockings sauntered through, I had such a thought.

Sure enough, she turned out to be the lead singer in Dum Dum Girls. (There was a lot of the blonde, brunette, redhead thing between the girl singers. Not sure if that was intentional, or just happened that way.)

So while Friday brought out the hipster LA crowd, Dum Dum Girls brought out the alternative set. Like the boys of Saint Motel the night before, the Girls of Dum Dum pleased the crowd immensely.

(JJAMZ and Dum Dum Girls photos courtesy of Leah Saga) 

SUNDAY

I got there early on Sunday, as the empty chairs still lingered in the audience. I knew the first band was Neveready. The only thing I'd heard about the band was that "someone's son" was in the band. Which automaticallly makes me cringe and prepare for the worst. But then I figured out that said someone was none other than radio god and San Diego legend Mike Halloran (now at 91X again). So I vowed to suspend judgment and disbelief. Still, nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.

By now, everyone was used to Mr. Shovel announcing all the bands.

But there was this guy on stage, whom the promo guy said was "our lead guitar tech, Lil Buddy." If I'd thought about this for a moment (having seen more than half the bands, and never seen this guy before, I would've thought... how odd... but I didn't). OK. Sure.

The guy kinda looks like Gilligan, wearing a red shirt and white sailor's hat. He's testing the equipment, saying things into the microphones like "syphillis." (Hm, ok.)

"Lil Buddy" looks like he's about to walk offstage, as the band comes parading up through the crowd, playing their instruments. Then Lil Buddy too, takes up a guitar, and starts jamming and the ruse is revealed.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

You may not have had your coffee yet, but by this time in Sunday's festivities, I'll tell you, Neveready got your eyes open.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

They were by far the most choreographed of any band that played this LobsterFest. They were engaging with the crowd, making one poor lady blush, laying down on the ground with her, while still playing.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

They rocked the house and put it on fire. Whatever I was expecting from this first Sunday band, I was NOT expecting Neveready.

They were easily one of my favorite bands of the weekend. They were not only choreographed, they did tableau movements (where they freeze in place). It was stunning and amazing. Danced to some ska, they were all over the place.

(Photo courtesy of Leah Saga)

My breath was seriously taken away by Neveready. I really didn't even want to see any more bands after them.

The boys of Neveready, with a grateful fan at the (fully functional this year) merch table.

But this burst of energy was only beginning the day's festivities. Next up:

What was billed as "Captain Jeffrey and the Chumbuckets" turned out to be an expanded band which called themselves the "California Feetwarmers." Not that our feet needed warming, but our souls certainly did.

I knew it was going to be special when I looked at the arrayed musicians and saw a banjo, an accordian, a guitar, a tuba and a washboard. And a clarinet player. Wow. Extremely hard to top the exhuberance of Neveready, but wow. CA Feetwarmers was mind-blowing.

Mr. Shovel introducing the CA Feetwarmers. Look at all those instruments on stage!

The music was indeed, heartwarming. Old-timey, like you could've heard in Boardwalk Empire or something.

And wonderful lyrics, about kissing your baby in the moonlight. Sweet, charming, lovely.

But wait! There's more. Just when you thought the Feetwarmers had charmed your tired, cynical heart enough, they did this.

Came right down into the crowd and started playing for us while the next band was setting up. It was so incredible, I can't even describe it. Really really special.

Mr. Shovel, being the good journalist that he is, gets in primo spot to record this most special moment.

Next up was Battleme, from Portland, OR. Mr. Shovel noted that their music is being played a lot on "Sons of Anarchy." They spoke about how they are on a West Coast tour, since "that's what record companies do, they send you to Los Angeles."

I would recommend checking out Battleme's music. A fun listen.  (Closer and Touch are their hits on Radio Free Indie.)

Then, there was Jail Weddings. Let me preface by saying that Mr. Shovel is playing a wonderful song by them about the worst thing in the world being when a woman cries. Beautiful. Poignant.

However, as I listened to (or tried to listen to) their lyrics, I was pretty shocked. I'm not easily shocked. Let me just put it this way. One of their lyrics, if I made it out right, was about having sex with a woman who liked to be choked. And that was one of the more upbeat ones. Kinda made me gasp, these lyrics. Someone please cover that baby's ears.

I think that Jail Weddings, too, would have benefited more from the cover of darkness.

You know how the name "Jail Weddings" seems kinda cool, but kinda just off, too? Their music is like that. On the dangerous, scary dark side of kinky.

Although, I will say, their musicianship and stage presence were absolutely superb. So, all in all, not sure how I feel about Jail Weddings.

Luckily, there were big boats passing by to distract us.

And then, we have the final act of this superb wonderful music weekend, of many treasures. And who doesn't love a little rockabilly?

Believe me, there were many who really were looking forward to The Blasters. And, for those keeping score, every final act of every night (and thank you again, Mr. Shovel) was a band with a big following whose numbers showed up to enjoy. Crowds showed up for The Blasters, as they had for Saint Motel and Dum Dum Girls on the two nights previous.

And unlike 90% of regular LA audiences, who will not dance, fans of rockabilly are all about the dancing. Most of this LobsterFest even for those who wanted to dance, it was just too darn hot.

But the final show of the final night finally had a cool breeze blowing through and everyone, young, old, children, babies, dads, moms, everyone was up and dancing. Even the pirate wenches came back for a dance.

Fun was had by all. Thanks for that go to Mr. Shovel, and the coordinator Jim (who received a plaque this year), and all the wonderful people who present LobsterFest to us grateful public each and every year. Even though it was blisteringly hot, it was worth it to brave the heat to hear this dazzling array of music you laid before us.

Can't wait to do it again next year!

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RIP Vile Rat

Someone who's never played an MMOG wouldn't really know. Someone who's never really participated in a virtual reality "game" like Second Life wouldn't get it.

But something about this story touches me very deeply. I feel deeply for the loss of his avatar.

RIP Vile Rat

In the news, it was just some unnamed diplomat who was killed, one of the "three others" in most news stories. But over the next few days, it became known that Sean Smith, who was just killed in Libya on Sept. 11, was also Vile Rat, a leader in the MMOG EVE.

And that is what strikes me with sadness. His friend in this article speaks so eloquently of the way this man always fought for diplomatic solutions in his persona of Vile Rat, indeed, built them into the game. The man who lived this in real life, brought his diplomacy to this game that brought him joy in his downtime.

And in real life, he is gunned down brutally by extremists who undoubtedly would not listen to reason, or diplomacy.

At the time of his death, Sean Smith, was connected, as he always was, as most of us who live online are, to his online friends. Usually, in Baghdad and elsewhere he worked, there would be gunfire, and he would eventually come back, to play again.

This time, he didn't. And all the impact he was making as a diplomat in EVE ended. All the impact he was making in the real world, by volunteering to live in massively turbulent areas that most of us wouldn't dream of going near, his voice is now silenced.

It is tragically sad. I sincerely hope that the makers of EVE create a very special place for Vile Rat. Never let him, and his tragic death on yet another September 11, be forgotten.

Long live diplomacy. Long live Vile Rat.

News of his death

MSNBC coverage

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Fun Stuff Coming Up!

Woo hoo! A whole boatload of content coming at you soon: LobsterFest reviews/photos; Emmy predictions and coverage, Oscar predictions and coverage... lots lots lots.

But first, this.

Top Twelve Things About the London Olympics Opening Ceremonies

12. The Olympic rings are forged during the Industrial Revolution, with smokestacks coming out of the ground.

11. A pastoral English countryside. No, really.

10. Team GB enters to the strains of David Bowie's "Heroes," and dances down the walkway amid blinding streams of confetti.

9. The fireworks! My gosh. Never better anywhere. With or without a strange UFO, depending on whom you talk to.

8. The Queen, her Corgis and James Bond. Jumping out of a helicopter. Wonderful.

7. The music of Britain. The whole sequence, so wonderful. Go watch it again.

6. Mary Poppins en masse vs. Voldemort

5. The torch, as everyone comes together as one. Glorious and beautiful.

4. The Sex Pistols get their chance to play before the Queen. Now only if they'd cut to a reaction shot of her face, it would've been perfect. Pogoing punk-haired, leather jacketed Sex Pistol dolls will forever resonate in my memory. Ending with the Peace sign. We Care / We Don't Care. Brilliant. (Also cut on NBC.)

3. The creator of this heartfelt poem to Britain, Danny Boyle, who deserves many kudos for his incredible, multi-layered pageantry.

2. The tribute to the terror victims of 7/7, as sharply resonant in Britain as 9/11 was here in America. Sadly NBC cut this whole segment.

And the number one best thing about the London Olympics 2012 Opening Ceremonies was:

1. "This Is For Everyone." Not only in that moment, as Tim Berners-Lee, the man who gave us the Internet, was typing a Tweet on a NEXT machine (thank you, Steve Jobs) the words, as the entire world responded back over the World Wide Web. But also the more profound resonance, as countries everywhere are trying to censor Internet access. No. No thank you, THIS IS FOR EVERYONE, says its creator.

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What #NBCFail Tells Us About MSM Today

There are moments in a culture, when you realize that people (and people's viewing/listening habits) have surpassed the medium currently promoted. Film attendance put the nail in the coffin of theatre-going as a regular pasttime. Big-screen TVs caused film attendance to drop. Radio finally realized (too late) that the iPod had changed forever how people listen to music.

We have another of those moments now, although it's been going on for some time already.

And it kinda looks like this.

This image is significant in several ways.

Let me back up a bit. At this moment, in real time, I was on my computer, hooked up to the Internet that Tim Berners-Lee invented, as he was on this stage at the London Olympics, Tweeting "This is for everyone." And, on Twitter, it was like suddenly "everyone" (including me) was responding: "Thanks, Tim Berners-Lee! And isn't this amazing and incredible?" Here we are, in Canada and Brazil and China and Australia and Germany, all able to watch this amazing Olympics Opening Ceremony TOGETHER on the World Wide Web of his creation.

It was stunning poetry, and really touched my heart. Touched that it was nearly the finale of the genius creation that Englishman Danny Boyle had created, a poem to England if ever there was one. The images that he put forth, which I'd been watching (commercial-free) created a stunning portrait that seemed to (according to the Tweets I was reading) touch Englishfolk most of all.

The National Health Service and Harry Potter and Mary Poppins and the English countryside and MUSIC! Oh the MUSIC! Best of all, those dastardly boys of the late 1970s, reviled in their country at the time (spit on at gigs), the Sex Pistols, punkers now dressed up almost as Cabbage Patch dolls, pogoing in their leather jackets joyfully. A British commentator later intoned (paraphrasing), "They used to be banned, but now they are as much a part of Britain as anything else." Something that gets you all warm and fuzzy. (And the Queen was watching!)

The ceremony took my breath away. In many segments.

Subversive in many ways, brilliant in all. I need to rewatch the entire thing.

But all those countries that I mentioned earlier that were watching in real-time? Not among them? The United States. If you played by the rules in America (which, being a punk rocker, I don't), you had to wait NINE HOURS (on the West Coast) after the Opening Ceremonies to see them. And to see a MUCH edited version of them. That whole joyous Sex Pistols moment I described above? Not there. It showed the beginning of the song "Pretty Vacant" (they played the WHOLE SONG), and then cut to commercial. Came back just in the final words of that song.

Another significant thing not there? Really significant, considering that America is all about "stamping out terror" and all that in our propaganda, was a long segment dedicated to the terror victims of 7/7. I think it's safe to say that that moment resonates with every Brit the way 9/11 resonates with every American. And one would think that "terror" kinda resonates everywhere. It was a really poignant, special moment of the ceremony. I can just see the NBC exec, looking at the lineup on paper. "Nah, we don't need that. We can cram plenty of commercials in that part. Look how long it is!"

So you had to watch the whole thing nine hours after the fact, if you wanted to watch NBC's version. You didn't get to share that "This is for EVERYONE" moment with the rest of the world. (In fact, NBC commentator Meredith Viera didn't even know who Tim Berners-Lee WAS. Although she did have that nine hours to Google it, for heaven's sake, so there's no excuse.)

And if you didn't want to wait for the ceremony, for the first time ever, NBC is (supposedly) offering real-time coverage of the Olympics (with every event broken out). This, however, did not include the Opening Ceremoniues (one assumes they will also not include the Closing Ceremonies). The best you could get from NBC (initially) was photographs on their website from what was happening live.

People were on Twitter when this was happening, first complaining that NBC tape-delays its coverage, second that all it was giving anyone was photographs. NBC must have heard people, because soon, it started live Tweeting what was being broadcast. THAT YOU COULDN'T SEE. For nine hours.

Cause, you know, if you saw it, that would be lost revenue for them, and all those commercials they had packed in there at premium dollars.

Here's the thing, though, NBC. I'm a Internet user (thanks to Tim Berners-Lee). If I want to watch something right now, I can pretty much find a way to get it. And so I did. From the United States. So did lots of others, I'm sure.

And, I kept reading these lamenting posts from TV critics and commentators, who were trying to view it through normal (NBC-approved) channels. I felt bad. So I sent them the link. That someone had sent me. After all, This is For Everyone. :-) And that's how the Internet works.

For better Olympics coverage, every day of the Olympics so far, check out #NBCFAIL on Twitter. It tells of all the ways that NBC is screwing up. They seem to be endless.

One thing is sure. The people have moved on in their viewing habits. One day, NBC will figure that out.

http://georgemckay.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/CND-sign-at-olympics.jpg

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Hitting On Someone in Social Media: Know Your Platform

I should really start a relationship series. It would go something like: How Not to Date in Social Media

Maybe this is the first installment of that...

The overall theme, of which I've blogged about before, is that guys, for whatever reason are unable to construct the time-honored tradition of, "Hey, wanna go out? I know this great Cuban place to take you for dinner," or "This hot new movie is opening this weekend. Wanna go?" Complete and utter failure on that regard. Perhaps all that is too much of a commitment, and they just want sex. Fine. Just cross me off your list now then.

Here's what I've been getting a lot of lately: "Wanna chat?" or, if they feel really close, "Hey, I wanna chat with you sometime."

First of all, I spent most of the 90s and a good part of the 2000s chatting. I've seen the good sides of chat, and the horrific sides of chat (that being when one guy wanted to "chat" with me while he watched a porno in the background, and showed me said nonsense on his videocam). Chatting, for most guys these days, is the precursor to "sexting." And it doesn't take long to get from one to the next.

Which is why, these days, I only "chat" with friends and family. SELECT friends and family. They had to beg me, in fact, to turn on my FB chat. I used to chat with hundreds, and be open to the whole world, but not these days.

Here's the other thing, though. FB chat (which turns into emails of the person you're chatting with) isn't strictly old-school chat, but it functions as such sometimes. IN NO CIRCUMSTANCE, however, is Twitter to be used as "chat."

Do people not realize this?

Every Tweet you type goes out to your ENTIRE TWITTER FEED. Every one I type back goes out to MY ENTIRE TWITTER FEED, which is close to 2000 people. I don't want to bore 2000 people with this convo: "What's up?"
"Not much. You?"
"Not much either."

SERIOUSLY?

First of all, I am APPALLED at your social gaffe, to not realize this collossal social blunder you are committing here.

And even taking this convo to DMs, which is proper social etiquette, is wrong on a personal level, because in any forum, I'm bored silly by this convo.

"We should chat more," he says. Really? You sure aren't convincing me of that.

Not to mention that because you use Twitter as your own personal "chat" stream, I've seen you hitting on other girls this way. Very uninteresting.

Here's how it works for me.

For the most part, I use Twitter to hear and talk to the masses of people on the Earth. I'm most open to following new people on Twitter, just to hear their voice, and the kinds of things they say.

When I've listened to them awhile, if what I've been reading is pleasing, I will accept a friend request on Facebook. But even there, I get the random, "Let's chat," in email.

This guy, for example. "I'd like to get to know you."

Mind you, my feed on FB, as my friends will tell you, is pretty much Michelle as an open book. There are all kinds of things that I'm posting, which are of interest to me, that you could comment on. We could see if we have similar interests. That's how I get to know YOU.

No. He doesn't do that. He "wants to chat." Tells me, in English and Spanish, that I'm "so beautiful." Not much more than that. As if I'm so gullible that hearing someone call me beautiful is going to make me trip into their arms. Um, no.

Wow me. Impress me. Stun me with your witticisms. Or, for heaven's sake, ASK ME OUT.

Why is that so difficult for boys today?

As for both of the two in this (true life) story, I've unfollowed/unfriended them. Life's too short.

Oh, and another thing: Don't call me "dear." It's demeaning.

And don't describe intimate sexual things you want to do to me if you haven't even KISSED ME. Seriously, people. Have some decorum.

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UPDATE: As I went to unfriend the FB guy, I read that his profile just went from "married" to "single." So all these months, when he's been trying to initiate chat with me, he was MARRIED anyway. *eyeroll*

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I'm an Educated Woman... And You're a Pig

Here's a true tale of Los Angeles in 2012. This just happened.

Let me state a couple of things which I believe to be true, which may or may not actually be true.

First, probably because we have a celebrity culture here and/or so many who are actors/creative types, there is an unspoken bubble around everyone as they travel through Los Angeles. If you happen to be walking, people will always give you enough distance as if that bubble were actually there. Personal space is regarded highly. As in, you don't, under any circumstances, invade it.

Now, if you happen to be riding a bus in Los Angeles (or a subway), this rule is compromised a bit. Often buses and trains get crowded, and one has to make do. But even in these extreme circumstances, one tries, as best as one can, to maintain personal space. That bubble around each person just gets a little bit smaller.

This even goes to the extremes on buses and trains where (unlike Chicago or Paris or Toronto or other cities in which I've ridden trains/subways) people don't have issues with the close quarters. It's expected. In Los Angeles, if you TOUCH someone, it better be as minimal as possible, because under any other circumstances, this is a HUGE affront.

Second, and maybe this is just a pet peeve of mine, but it's considered common courtesy (and yes, even on city buses and trains one exhibits common courtesy) that if the bus or train is full, or even crowded (and by crowded I mean that every seat is taken, or nearly so), one has the decency, if one has a bag or a backpack or a shopping bag or whatever on the seat next to them, to put it on their lap. In fact, one considers the crowdedness of buses and trains before one contemplates getting on board with 85 bags. You have this many bags, take a damn cab. (But that's my issue.)

So those are my prejudices going into this true story.

Man gets on said crowded bus. He is (and while many in Los Angeles are extremely judgmental of people's physiques, I am not of this ilk), but he is, safe estimate, 400 lbs. He has trouble making it through the aisles. He is wheezing and has shortness of breath so much that I worry he's going to pass out as he ambles back to the back of the bus, looking for a seat.

There are none. He ambles back toward the front, still wheezing. I honestly, at this point, really do believe the poor man needs to sit down. Or go back out and get some air, or something.

As he gets to the front of the bus, he spies a woman who has her bag on the seat next to her. (As I mentioned, this is one of my button-pushers, and I would've gotten mad too. In fact, if all seats were taken, I, too, would have insisted that I sit in the empty seat next to her. Although I would've done it the LA way, by simply standing and looking at her, plaintively, until she moves her bag of her own volition.)

Mind you, there was a three-seat thingie next to this woman, of which TWO seats were available, in which this man could've sat. He did not. He chose to sit next to the woman.

I missed the beginning part of this, but he was talking to her, basicallly telling her to move her bag. She did not. She said something about him taking up two seats, and motioned to the open two seats next to them.

This caused the man to PICK UP HER OPEN PURSE and THROW IT in her lap. And sit down next to her, making rude comments about whether or not he was actually touching her. Now, I wasn't sitting right next to them, so I couldn't see, but it's completely impossible for me to imagine this behemoth of a man sitting next to ANYONE and not touching them. He easily would take up two seats comfortably. In one, half his body takes up the seat. So, I had a problem imagining that he wasn't touching her, after already having violated her with her purse (which caused half the bus to gasp). (People on LA buses, by and large don't even notice what's going on around them. At this whole incident, they gasped.)

Not surprisingly, this woman wanted no part of this nasty man next to her, and she did what I would've done, got up and moved. The man continues to verbally harangue her.

She finally counters with, "You look like a pig." (The bus laughed, cause actually, he kinda did.)

And he counters with, "Sure, I could call you the 'N' word, and I'd be the one in trouble."

She says, "I'm not a 'N,' I'm not white or black. I'm brown. And I'm educated. You're the one that's acting like a 'N.' " (The bus also laughed at that, cause that was kinda true, too.)

I got off at the next stop, so I don't know how this whole incident finished, but it just started me thinking.

Why are we all so self-involved that we have to confront each other with such hostility? Why do we assume that everyone is out to get us, or hassle us, or be a jerk to us?

Why can we all not just get along?

************************************************

Donald Driver's Secret Weapon

First things first. Ladies and gentlemen, our Season 14 winners:

Peta Murgatroyd and Donald Driver. And here's why.

When last I examined this, I looked at the top four couples. Let's visit them again.

In fourth place (unjustly) was Derek Hough and Maria Menounos. Their ouster at fourth place was certainly an anamoly of voting, of people thinking they were safe, and not picking up the phone for them. The night that was their last, they had TWO perfect dances. TWO 30s from the judges. That is not a couple who was meant to go home.

And I am, frankly, still upset about it. So, let's just gloss over Derek and Maria's perfection.

 (*SOBS*)

What does it take to become a champion?

Frankly,  what it takes to win, mostly, is amazing choreography by the Pro. That's why you are going to see Derek Hough and Mark Ballas win the Mirror Ball over and over and over again (and Karina Smirnoff), because they provide stunning, breath-taking choreography for us to feast upon.

To my eyes, Cheryl Burke is a good choreographer, servicable, but she is not on the same level as Hough and Ballas. She just isn't. Added to that, her partner, William Levy got to third place mostly because he has a rabid fan following that salivated over his hot looks (and his gorgeous shaking ass). Them's the facts, m'am. In interviews afterwards, Burke tried to play down the fact that it was a pretty face that helped get "Team Fuego" to third.

No, he was pretty. That's what got you third. Own it. Embrace it.

First or Second? How do we decide?

Then we come down to our top two. Let me say this. I love Mark Ballas' choreography, more than anyone else on this show, and so I always, from the first episode, hope that he comes in first, and expect him to.

What I realized with Season 14 is that choreography only gets you so far. And while any of the top four in any other season might have won, in THIS super competitive, multi-talented season, it was not enough.

Naughty Bits as a Downfall

Katherine Jenkins, while elegant and graceful and providing stunning lines, almost from her first dance, was hindered by one thing, which ended up keeping her from the Mirror Ball trophy. She is, pretty much, a prude.

Now, I'm not saying that it's a prerequisite for a winner of DWTS to run around in scanty clothes, necessarily. It's more this. One has to own one's body as a dancer. The body, clothed or unclothed, is a vehicle for the dance. We saw, in the interview packages, how Katherine would stammer and laugh and blush when confronted with her "naughty bits." She didn't like showing them, she didn't like dealing with them. If there was one thing she was roundly consistently criticized for was that her dances "lacked fire."

William Levy was graded (perhaps too much by salivating Bruno) for being "sex on a stick." Katherine didn't own her sexiness enough. I am convinced that kept her from the trophy.

My take on it is that Mark Ballas, knowing what it takes to win this thing, was pushing her to give more fire, to get outside her comfort zone. She didn't want to, she didn't want to, then finally she did, in this dance.

Look at this picture. The man on the left is totally comfortable in his own body, and with his own sexuality. He owns this dance. Look at the woman on the right. She is not at all comfortable with the amount of skin she's presently showing (even though, as a DWTS costume goes, this is very chaste; still it was the most skin Katherine showed all season).

At the end of this dance, she "had a back spasm." Her uptightness over her costume made her pull out her back, and it was also the moment when she unconciously decided, "You know what? Second place is good enough for me. I'm really OK with that."

Don't believe me? Here are her costumes for the final.

This:

And this:

She had white shorts on under her flapper dress. SHORTS.

Makes me sad. But that's why she got second, though her choreography was stunning and executed flawlessly.

Now, by contrast.

When you want  something so bad you can taste it...

I had Katherine and Mark in my initial picks. I had Derek and Maria. I didn't know anything really about Peta and Donald Driver (though I've always been suspicious of athletes, they do tend to win a lot).

I was blithely going on, at the beginning of the season, picking my Favorite Dance of the Week (which you can see on my Pinterest board: http://www.pinterest.com/michebel). Mark and Katherine, then Derek and Maria. By week four though (Rock Week), it was (shockingly to me) Donald Driver and Peta Murgatroyd who had captured my "Dance of the Week" honor.

Their Purple Haze was not to be denied. And it was just so far above all the other competitors.

Look at this, you can already see a championship team at work.

Both competitors are owning that stage.

Or this:

Or their Viennese waltz. Or their story-filled "Mr. Big Stuff":

 What you see in these pictures are two people, singular of purpose, who both really want to win.

Peta because it was her second season as a pro, and in her first season, she was voted out first. Donald because he loved Dancing with the Stars.

This turned out to be their secret weapon. He loved the show. He loved it so much that he watched it, every season. Knew every player, watched every dance.

Where this came into play was the end.

In finals week, Donald was the one who came up with, "...well, back in Season Two..."

And they pulled a move that a similar champion had done. They danced their freestyle to country.

Dudes, it's America. America loves country music.

This was the dance that won the Mirror Ball, I promise you.

Donald Driver knew, from studying the tapes of past seasons, what it took to win. And he wanted that, badly.

And, I have to say, I am happy that they were the ones who won. They wanted it, they deserved it, and they done America proud.

Congratulations to Donald Driver and Peta Murgatroyd, our new Mirror Ball champions.

****************************************

Glee's Cruelty Trumps its Rampant Pedophilia

 Mostly concerning: Glee, Season 3, Episode 6: "Mash-off"

I'm having a real problem lately. It concerns TV shows having reprehensible main characters that they then expect us to root for and/or care about.

On the "good" end of this spectrum (ie, shows that do this properly), we have TV magic like Tony Soprano and Breaking Bad's Walter White. They never lose their center, their gravitas, as they descend into madness.

On the "I wanna gouge my eyes out with sticks for watching this" side of the spectrum, we have the travesty of last season's Bachelor, whose Courtney made me never want to watch that show again. I literally want to throw up when I even think about watching it.

We also have shows like Desperate Housewives, who start out nice, with characters you want to invest in and actresses that are compelling, and devolve into soapy messes. I ducked out of Desperate Housewives once they had that killer in the basement nonsense going on, and never went back.

And then we have the case of Glee. The first season was pretty magical. The kids were wonderful singers and dancers. Sure, people threw slushies at each other and called each other "Loser," but what high school doesn't have that?

The second season nearly went off the rails, with a mess of storylines. Poor Sue Sylvester, if it weren't for her sister dying, she would've been a caricature of meaness with no respite. Dreadful.

I went into the third season, more hopeful. Indeed, there was a throughline of story revolving around student council elections and the school play. It seemed to have more cohesion. Heck, it had Eric Stoltz directing! How bad could it be?

Well, then there was "Mash Off." Two things about this episode left me gasping at my screen: the rampant pedophilia, left unchecked; and the absolute meanness and judgmentalism of one of the characters. Let's explore those one by one.

First, let me remind those who maybe haven't seen the show that most of the cast is supposedly in high school. Granted, it's kinda obvious that most of these actors are at least in their 20s, but, in theory, they are teens.

So, frankly, even  some of the storylines (one main character was pregnant in the first season, and not by her boyfriend. Ouch.) leave me squeamish. But sure, in reality, teens do have sex. I am open minded enough to realize that.

Here's where it crosses the line for me. Students don't have sex with teachers. Teachers, for that matter, don't egg on students in the sexual direction. That's a line that shouldn't be crossed. I'm really hardcore about this because there is WAY too much sexual abuse of teens going on (both boys and girls). Here's my bottom line: Adults don't sleep with those under 18. Period. No exceptions. And TV shows shouldn't condone this behavior, or glorify it in any way.

This episode, "Mash Off," kicks off with Puck (who tells us no less than three times that "I'm really 18..."'; in real life, he's 30) waxing lyrical about how enamoured he is with his teacher (who now has custody of his illegitimate child, given up for adoption).

He then launches into Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher," which I admit is a great song. They also do a great rendition of it.

But here's the thing. They are TEENS. And they are singing "Hot for Teacher"? And their actual (male) teacher is in the room, and he's digging it? And encouraging them? It made me want to puke. It was really NOT OK, and every adult who participating in creating this episode should be ashamed of themselves.

Shockingly, it wasn't even the worst part of the episode.

Let me give a bit of backstory about the next part.

A regular storyline of all three seasons is how, even though regular kids are abused and put down, it's the gay kids who REALLY suffer. One of them (one of the male leads) even changed schools for a season because he was struggling so hard with it.

We have another (female) gay student, who is hiding her truth and is really ashamed of it. She lets loose a tirade of judgmental meanness on one of her fellow students that left my mouth agape with shock. And somehow, we are supposed to be rooting for this poor girl who has to hide her gayness.

Well, no. I can't really get past her cruelty, thanks. I don't really care if she walks down the road to happiness, and personally, I don't really care at this point if I see her on screen for one more second. I actually think that if I fast-forwarded through all the mean parts and the pedophlia parts of Glee, there would only be the songs left.

And I just may do that, cause the rest of it has become unwatchable.

*******************

The Final Four: Who's It Gonna Be?

Of the final four couples competing on Dancing with the Stars, Season 14, three of them I had picked on the first show. One surprised me.

But I could not have picked four better contestants for a finale. I want to examine them in the order in which I think they will go down.

 

NUMBER FOUR: Cheryl Burke and William Levy

I love Cheryl Burke. She is one of my favorite dancers to watch. And William Levy became one of the first DWTS heartthrobs ever, eliciting screams from the audience every time he danced. (Yes, I know, something Maks is already used to...) This season was filled with amazing dances and dancers above the usual crop, so the competition was always tough, but Burke and Levy provided stellar dances every time out.

NUMBER THREE: Donald Driver and Peta Murgatroyd
I didn't think much of them at the beginning. I usually roll my eyes when they trot out the football players. But Donald's love of DWTS, added with his unique chemistry with Peta made for some really memorable dances throughout the season.

Their Purple Haze commanded Rock Week. Their threesome (with last year's winner Karina Smirnoff) stood out amongst an incredible field of unique and innovative contestants. Donald and Peta got much further than I thought they would, and I'm glad. I look forward to seeing them in the finale.

But really, all along, this competition has been between two teams, both captained by geniuses of choreography. Masters of dance who create innovative pictures. It's a really tough call between the two, and who will win will depend on the dances they create. But I think it'll go like this.

NUMBER TWO: Derek Hough and Maria Menounos

Derek Hough creates stunning choreography, if you saw the last samba that he did Bollywood style, or the Madonna number without a melody earlier in the season, you'd know what I'm talking about. Stunning, take-your-breath-away dances.

His one detriment, which I believe is going to cost him the championship, is that he's dancing with Maria Menounos. She's fine, and she seems up for whatever he throws at her, despite two broken ribs, a broken foot and other physical problems.
But, simply, she is not the best this season.

And that would be:

NUMBER ONE: KATHERINE JENKINS AND MARK BALLAS

Oh, I swoon just thinking about a Mark Ballas dance. He has created such beautiful poetry on screen every time one of his dances is before us. Not only gorgeous choreography, but a stunning, heart-wrenching story, as his alcoholic man and the woman who loves him tango showed. And in a tough season like this, that is what pushes it above the edge, to the top.

If I had a complaint about Katherine Jenkins (and her lines are perfect, her flicks are spot-on, she is such a perfect partner for Ballas), it's that she doesn't easily go into the truly sexy (Len would say: raunchy) parts of the dance that make it really hot. That may cost her.

But as long as she's willing to let Mark Ballas guide her, this should be the couple who ends up with the mirror ball this season. All in all, this season finale looks to be the best ever. I truly eagerly await all of their dances.

And I hope you do too! (Dancing with the Stars airs on ABC, Monday nights from 8 pm - 10 pm PST. Thanks to ABC/Adam Taylor for the photos.)

*******************************************

Put the Real Back in My Reality TV!

Or, How Courtney Caused the Bachelor to Jump the Shark...

Here's the simple truth of it. If I want fiction, I'll watch a fictional scripted TV show. If I want truth, I'll watch a reality show. You want DANCING? Watch Dancing With the Stars. You want to see how a bunch of different people cope when they are put together on an island to fend for themselves? Watch Survivor. That's the purity of reality TV.

Cause sometimes real people are way more interesting than scripted stuff. Truth, reality, the way people interact with each other in real ways is quite fascinating stuff. And the good reality shows play off this.

Somewhere along the way, as the moment lulled, and reality TV became huge, those writers whose jobs had been displaced (now that reality TV was so cheap to make) wanted their jobs back. They wanted part of this new phenomenon.

So we have this mixture that we have now (with some shows). Survivor will not admit to being scripted. (I actually believe them.) The most a reality show writer/producer should do is create the arcs of a show (where in the world The Amazing Race travels to, for example; and what they encounter when they are there). But the way the people themselves react to it, is the fun of watching it.

But the real rub is that you have to get 30, 15, 20 whatever schlubs every season who are willing to put up with whatever you put them through. Why would they do this? Simple. It's not just the cash prize they could win at the end. It has become, more and more, that they just want to be on TV.

Let us examine, for a moment, the two WORST examples of that, the two who have burned out my eyes from ever watching The Bachelor again: Ben F. and Courtney.

I think one can generalize at this point (and so I shall): Ben never wanted to get married, find true love, all that wooha he signed up for. He just wanted to have a TV show about himself. Every girl along the way who was going along with what the show was about ("sure, I could see myself with you," "sure, I could marry you," "Sure, I'm falling in love with you..."), once they went down that path, he kissed them goodbye.

But every girl, and I do mean every girl, starting at the very beginning of the season, who was willing to kiss, to cuddle, to snuggle, to put her sex on the line, he was down with it.

Courtney, on the other hand, who was completely open about the fact that she wanted to "WIN" this Bachelor thing, and screw everyone else who was in her way, spent the first half of the season showing her true colors. She was mean, she was condescending, she was judgmental, she was downright cruel. She was the most horrible person that the show has ever had on. Which, of course, in the cold cruel world of television, makes for great TV.

Vicious Courtney. What is Courtney gonna say next? Everyone talked about her at the water coolers. Bachelor producers must've been rubbing their hands in glee.

Except for one little thing. Ben dug her. Or, perhaps, he just saw a similar snake in front of him.

In any case, when little Miss Break the Rules showed up at his suite in Puerto Rico, and they ended up frolicking (insert the other F word here) in the ocean, it was really game over.

What I wish they HAD done, if this had really been REAL reality TV, and they were honest, was to put it back on the table. "Yeah, Courtney and I had sex. What are you girls gonna do about it?"

Although they probably would've all walked out (or most of them), it sure would've made for more interesting TV than what they tried to shovel at us next.

Because once Miss Courtney started becoming Ben's favorite, the producers had to back pedal. Furiously. They had to put words in her mouth that made me choke to listen to them.

How even though she'd been trashing everyone left, right and sideways all season, suddenly now she was "interested in falling in love." Whereas before she "had a hard time trusting people," now she was "ready for love."

It was a joke, and she was/is a bad actress. That whole nonsense of a fake wedding that they did on the hometown dates was laughable.

I won't bore you with too many details, it was painful enough to sit through as is.

My point, though, is that I was one of those who at least tried to invest in The Bachelor and Bachelorette for the romance of it.

And sure, I knew when City Hall is all cleared out and there's a band in there, for them to dance by themselves, that it wasn't Ben F. who did all that "for Lindsi." It was a team of people at ABC who pulled that and everything together. Sure, I knew there were lies (in that regard).

(And then they had Lindsi's parents say, "Oh we got married there!" (As if their 27-year-old daughter didn't know where her parents got married... I could puke...)

Anyway...

Starting from the fake ski slopes in San Francisco on, everything about this season just got worse and worse and worse.

It was almost like the rest of the country was watching the real show, with our sweetheart, Kacie B., and Ben and wench-o-matic Courtney were off doing their own "Screw everyone" show on the side.

At the end of it all, I feel manipulated. By Courtney, yes, but more by the producers and "writers" who created this fiasco. If I see one more helicopter ride, I swear I'll throw up. If I have to watch one more couple climb atop something high (bridges, Aztec ruins, gorges) and then make some LAME metaphor about how going through this together (even if you're terrified of heights) makes your relationship that much stronger, I swear I will heave.

It really was a morass of bad writing thrown at you all this season: Leap lists, and fakeness and unreality. At every rose ceremony (and I DO mean every rose ceremony), the entire country, in unison (or anyone who still cared enough to watch this madness) screaming at their TVs: GET RID OF COURTNEY!

To have to march through, like some twisted romance from hell, as one by one of the most amazing women are dumped, and the black widow spider is still standing at the end, is really beyond the pale.

And I really feel it's cured me of my desire to ever watch this show again. There's too much reality to live. I don't want fake scripted "reality."

I feel used, abused and stepped on, by suffering through as much of this season as I did. EVERY SINGLE PERSON AT ABC who was associated with this show this season SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES. Ashamed.

You will never live down the Ben-Courtney fiasco. You have jumped the Swiss shark.

*WRETCH*

***********************************************

The Bachelor of Shame

I don't watch many reality shows. The ones I watch, I tend to think of as the "gold standard" of these kinds of shows: Survivor, Dancing with the Stars, The Bachelor, Bachelorette. An occasional Amazing Race. That's pretty much it.

In all my watching of all of these shows (most of them from the very beginning), I can't recall seeing such a season of shame as what's going on right now on The Bachelor. Thankfully for America and for Ben F (our illustrious Bachelor), after next week, it'll all be over.

I wanna dissect what's happened so far from two perspectives:

1. He was a user/manipulator and so was she.

2. He had no idea, and is now in hell.

Let's try the first one on for size. If you listen to some of the tabloids, Ben was only in it for sex. He never wanted a wife. And if you looked at his choices, there were many (and I do mean many) great women this season. Ones with open hearts, great looks, genuinely into him, reacting genuinely, even telling him they were "falling in love" with him. At every turn, when this stuff happened, that particular woman was the next one to get bounced.

And on every episode, he was kissing and hugging and getting physically intimate with women (to varying degrees). Every episode. Starting with the FIRST one.

So, yeah, a cynic would say that he was just in it for the sex, and his fav among them all was the beautiful model. You know, the one who stalked him and seduced him in the ocean. While they were both naked. And if you tell me sex didn't happen that night, I have some swamp land to sell you.

That would be the cynical view. These two people who SPOILER end up together next week, deserve each other. They are both manipulators, just on this show to get famous or in Ben's case "to talk about his winery," according to one tabloid.

Although, truth be told, he did mention it was either in Sonoma or San Francisco, but they never showed it, and he never named it, so if he was "self-promoting" as they claim, he did a pretty piss poor job of it.

**********************

The thing is, I'm a romantic. I don't wanna believe that all the reality shows are actually "written." I don't wanna believe that anyone goes on The Bachelor without actually seriously trying to find love. Well, sure, there's the odd duck here or there trying to promote themselves, but that usually backfires. Right, Wesley?

But let's just play out this narrative.

Let's say that Ben F. appeared on the first show, genuinely wanting to find a wife. Or at least someone he could have a relationship with. Long-term.

Let's ignore that he really turned down every woman he could conceivably do that with.

And he's walking, stumbling, tripping through this season, doing the best he can. And suddenly a woman who has a good head on her shoulders is telling him to watch out for another woman. He ignores it, and actually thinks worse of said woman (who, btw, I would marry in a heartbeat. She's awesome. Very straightforward.).

Note to all future Bachelor/Bachelorette contestants: If someone in a season comes to you to complain about someone else, at least listen. Don't dismiss them.

So, the season goes on. He continues to make bad choices, but for the most part, the best women stay till the end.

And again, three women whom he likes tell him AGAIN about this particular woman, who, for whatever reason COUGHsexCOUGH he keeps picking.

OK, one woman, could be a fluke, could be just two people who don't get along. Now it's FOUR different women? And you don't pay attention? :-/

But OK, he still thinks he's in love with this model. She keeps stringing him along.

Until the point he dumps the woman who really has become America's sweetheart. She is quite possibly one of the best Bachelor contestants ever (except for her parents, she'd be perfect).

But she is beautiful and wonderful and she's genuinely in love with you. She is DUMPED (you stupid fool) and still she RETURNS to talk to you. To get some closure, since she was so blindsided. And as she's leaving, she says Oh BTW, I still care about you and this woman, the one I've been telling you about all along, is going to break your heart.

She's got no more skin in this game, she's already been dumped. And STILL you don't listen?

This is the point where I blame the producers, actually. Though they very likely have a bunch of heartless bastards running The Bachelor, and saw this whole Courtney debacle as a great way to get ratings, since everyone hated her so much.

But what happened throughout the season was that they just kept running interviews with Courtney shooting off her mouth, being an ass, dissing the other girls (of course, we are going to hate her). And now, maybe four shows from the end, they start having her say stuff (this is the scripted part) that she's all in love with Ben and blah blah. Like we believe her now?

Cause, you know, the "goal" of a Bachelor season is to have a man propose at the end AND to have America collectively swoon, as he gets down on one knee. Here's what's going to happen instead. As Lindsey is the first one getting out of the limo (aka the dumped one), you will hear TVs all across America clicking to another channel.

I know mine will.

In fact, if it were me, I'd fire whoever produced this Bachelor season.

Because it's been really painful to watch. You see all throughout, this loser/bitch saying crappy things about the other girls on the show. She was ugly and hateful and spiteful and mean, and didn't play by the rules. I don't care what anyone says, the little jaunt in the ocean was where the season effectively ended. Game over.

And they had cameras there, filming it. It's not like they weren't participants in this train wreck.

I mean, hey, if you want to make it all about Who Can Get the Bachelor in the Sack first? that's a whole different show. I think Snooki's on it. On THIS show, girls like to watch it because they wanna believe in romance. That courtship could be possible. And ever since Puerto Rico, which was like four shows in, I've just felt this stench of shame, watching it. Every episode.

Courtney's smug smile, knowing she wasn't going anywhere, cause she'd already banged Ben. Ben, believing so gullibly that this hot model really wanted HIM and not stardom.

Again, I say, where were the producers? Really? Next week, he's going to propose to Courtney and you think there is going to be anything but collective puking all across America? Chris Harrison rightfully in this last episode, "Women Tell All," called Courtney, the woman all of America hates.

The Bachelor should take a page from Survivor. Last season, they had all these spiritual people on (on what I think was the best Survivor season ever). It was a joy to tune in each week. I rushed to the TV. I live blogged it. I participated in the "virtual living room." I wanted to see more of it, cause what was happening was so stunning and amazing. And, conversely, this season, everyone is like The Bachelor was this season: mean, manipulative, spiteful. I've turned it off. Why bother?

But back to poor soddy Ben.

Let's assume that what the tabloids say is true: He proposes to the wench Courtney next week. So blinded by the way she stroked him in the ocean, he can't see what women all season long have been telling him. He proposes to her.

Then, he goes home, and actually watches the season unfold. He sees all the interviews with Courtney, where she is mean, spiteful, wenchlike, bitchy, cruel. Hears how much America hates her. Sees all the dirt the tabloids dig up on her, how she isn't even attracted to him, and is just doing this for fame.

Sits through last week's "Women Tell All," where 90% of the show is the women bitching about Courtney or bitching AT Courtney. The last 15 minutes are Ben (in a show that's normally mostly devoted to the Bachelor). He enters with the very telling phrase, "Welcome to My Nightmare."

When he said that, I have to say, I felt immensely sorry for him. To be dragged through this muck because some producer went with the Let's Hate on Courtney ratings bonanza, instead of letting a man just maybe find a soul mate.

Why is it, Bachelor producers, that Survivor has had BY FAR more couples hooking up that stay together than The Bachelor can manage in all its seasons? Why is that?

I would suggest that just like some smart producer managed to nip that Wesley baloney in the bud quickly, they should've done so, too, with this Courtney craziness. Let the poor man see some dailies or something. How horrible this is now, for him to watch this, as America, or at least the part of America that's still watching this train wreck, is sitting there thinking what a colossal ass he is. He sits there in his shame.

Has proposed to someone who totally played him, and all of America knows it. It's ugly.

The Bachelor used to be something you could believe in, and dream on. Now it's just some tramp having sex in the ocean, and I can't wash off the stench.

***************************************************

Social Media With No Social: Pinterest

Again and again, people talk about the next hot thing. MySpace faded, then Facebook appeared. There's always a next hot site around the corner.

So it was with great interest that I went to seek out this new Pinterest thing that everyone's talking about.

In fairness to Pinterest, it does solve a need that wasn't really being filled. Pictures just by themselves always seemed very out of place on FB. So thanks, Pinterest.

What it does NOT do well, in fact, does really abysmally, is connect one person with another.

Really, of all the social networks out there, the only one getting this right at the moment is Twitter. Twitter knows how to connect people with other people. It knows that's what people WANT.

All these homages to narcissism (and the new FB Timeline is even WORSE in that direction) are all well and good, but I wanna know what OTHERS are thinking, doing, feeling, experiencing today. I already know where I'm at, and everyone in my life does too.

Let me explore others' ideas, thoughts, or, in the case of Pinterest: pictures.

First, of all, it gives you some possible choices that are an SEO's dream. You can just see the potential advertisers salivating as they explore everyone's favorite travel sites, for example. Or clothing decisions. Do I really care to show that to the world? Or to see what beauty soap anyone else is buying? Um. No.

So, ok, let's assume that I love showing people photos, which, as it happens, I do.

Even as a photo site, Pinterest fails. It has no ability to crop or change photos or put together collages. It just lets you pin stuff from the web as it shows up. And then these pictures that you've selected go out into the world, to be viewed, and if you're lucky, "repinned." Woo!

Seriously?

You would think it would at least have (something one would think is de rigeur for any social media site these days), a stream of info available. Things people are currently pinning. If it's there, it wasn't apparent.

I supposedly added a bunch of FB friends, but I can't see them or their Pinterest boards. Not easily, anyway. How will they be able to find mine, should they choose to? Very frustrating.

All these social marketers are just spinning with the newest hottest thing, but they are all forgetting why we are here in the first place. WHERE'S THE SOCIAL? Let us connect with others. If you don't have that on your website, whatever your website is, you are FAILING as a social media site.

A Consideration of the Best Actress Race: Real-Life Impersonations

Let us examine, for a moment, from a deeply detailed acting perspective, who deserves to win the Oscar for Best Actress, and who doesn't, and why.

Two nominees played real-life people that we know and (maybe) love. Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher. Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe.

Let's take Beauty first, then Beast.

Back in the acting days of my youth, there were several actresses that I studied thoroughly: Bette Davis, Kathryn Hepburn, Jane Fonda. And Marilyn Monroe. I knew their gait, their phrasing, their breathiness or lack thereof, I knew their histories, as much about them as I possibly could.

So I started out seeing "My Week with Marilyn" with several prejudices: 1. that really NO ONE can do Marilyn and 2. that Michelle Williams can't act.

Sure, I liked her fine in Dawson's Creek, but since then, she has pretty much left me cold. Didn't think she deserved the nominations for Brokeback Mountain or Blue Valentine.

However, I will say, she deserves this one. It's a very tall mountain to climb to recreate Marilyn Monroe. Williams even taught me something about Marilyn that I didn't know: that she was a series of poses, always posing, even in repose. And, in this movie, Williams does some pretty impossible stuff.

She recreates famous dance scenes, and movie moments, so much that you forget that you are watching another actress. That is no small thing. She has her breathiness down, and her movements. Even her insecurities. For all of those things, for which Williams herself says she "worked harder than she ever did in her life," she gets an A+ in my book.

Sadly, here is where she falters. While she was meticulous about recreating the voice, the mannerisms and the steps and phrasing, she missed the heart of it. She missed the things that really made Marilyn tick.

The script, in Williams' defense, only really gives you bits where this Marilyn shines, but in each of them, Williams falls flat.

Here are the key questions one will ask at the end of this movie:
1. What really drove Marilyn to succeed (and to chase men)?
ANSWER: her childhood in orphanages, and feeling like everyone abandoned her

2. What was her connection with Fame? Why didn't she just give it all up and "settle down" with one guy?
ANSWER: She couldn't, cause fame is a drug like any other. She needed that.

Two scenes ask these questions of her, and Williams' performance (to me) fell completely flat in these scenes. So put that Oscar away for this year.

In one, she is looking at the dolls in a dollhouse. There it is, the metaphor is just about hitting you over the head. This was the moment for the actress to break our hearts with her shattered psyche. BAM. Nothing.

In the second, she is lying on the bed, and her lover asks her to just give it all up and settle down with him. This is the moment where the actress needs to give us some insight as to why Marilyn couldn't give up this lifestyle or settle down with this, or any, man. BAM. Nothing.

At the end of that scene, a really poignant scene, the audience should have been sobbing, or at least, thinking, that poor woman. I felt nothing after watching her. She could've been doing her nails. Very unfulfilling.

Meryl Streep suffers from the other problem. She is phenomenal, the script is dreadful and the direction is hokey.

But for me, it was like this. There is an opening scene where you see an old British woman, buying milk. Like her performance in Angels in America, where you see an old Jewish man, and go, HOLY CRAP! That's Meryl Streep... it's the same here. She walks and talks like an elderly British woman. As she talks more, in closeup, in the next scene, you see that it's Margaret Thatcher.

To be fair, her hair and makeup people also deserve an Oscar, cause WOW! This makeup was unbelievable. I've seen nearly all Meryl Streep movies, and I swear, I had a hard time seeing Maryl in there.

She also loses points (like she did last year) when a good chunk of the movie is someone else playing the younger years.

But wow. You wanna see a virtuoso playing that acting instrument, you need go no further than Meryl Streep in "The Iron Lady." I really didn't like the movie at all, but when Streep was in frame, she was riveting. My favorite scenes of hers were the ones with Jim Broadbent. They really could've made better use of Anthony Stewart Head, too.

Streep didn't look like Thatcher as much as Williams looked like Marilyn, but as far as capturing a heart and soul of a person, this Oscar is Streep's, hands down.

I have yet to see the other three performers in this category, but at this moment, I'm calling Streep for the win.

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Why Tramps Ruin The Bachelor

Let's start with the things we know for sure.

Most reality shows, including The Bachelor, are scripted. Those who script them aren't unionized, and thus, don't get paid enough for writing them, which also usually means the writing is subpar. Not only are the dialogue and contrived situations horrendous, but there is usually a lack of originality. Of late, for example, The Bachelor has relied on throwing in elements of good reality shows, in hopes that it will elevate its own material (not working, of course).

This season, for example, for no apparent reason, they've thrown in elements of Survivor and Fear Factor. They seem to be obsessed with putting people in high places and making them jump. A couple climbed to the top of a bridge in San Francisco, cause yeah, that's what couples do on dates. Dreadful, lame, tiresome.

See, I remember in the first couple of seasons, back when The Bachelor was actually good. Or at least it had a lot of promise. The premise was that 28 women would vie for the heart of one man. Doing normal stuff, like going on dates. Ones that involved tables and food and talking, not swimming with sharks, or jumping into deep pools in dark caves.

One thing Survivor does really right, and The Bachelor does really wrong, is that it's forgotten that people themselves are really interesting. People's personalities, and what they'll do in situations are what made reality shows great originally. Now they are just a cheap way to make a buck. It's very sad.

But I'm not writing about the sad state of reality shows. (One good one left--unscripted--Survivor, starts a new season Wednesday. Do catch it.)

No, I wanted to write about sex for a minute.

So let's again talk about what we know. People have sex. People have sex on reality shows, even though it's usually not talked about, since we are, after all, dealing with network TV. Romances blossom on Survivor. In fact, more couples have met and stayed together on Survivor than they have from The Bachelor or Bachelorette. Combined. FACT.

But it is the sad mess called The Bachelor that is the subject of today's treatise. (It being Valentine's Day, after all.)

So let's go back to the days of innocence, when The Bachelor was good. Imagine with me for a moment. Imagine, though it's a crazy situation... imagine that you did go on a reality show to find a husband. And imagine that, against all odds and likelihoods, you met this guy, and there was an instant spark. (It could happen.)

Most of these other 28 girls just want to be on TV, or whatever their reasons for being there are, but you meet this guy. You fall in love the first night. And he does too. He feels the same spark. (It could happen.)

Cause really, when I think about it (sure maybe something could develop over six weeks), but really, I would know instantly whether or not there was a spark between me and said dude. So, say there is.

And say that you are now in this game, this obstacle course, where you have to get to the end. All these other women have to go away (for whatever reason) and maybe you can actually get to be with this man. (It could happen.)

Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you have one such woman this season. Let's say her name is Kacie B. She's sweet, she's cute, she's perky. She's there "for all the right reasons," a Bachelor phrase so overused I cringe whenever I hear it. She likes this guy, this Ben. He likes her. Maybe even a lot.

How would you feel, I wonder, to see all these other women battling (either for his attention or just for camera time) it out? And what if one of said women was a scheming, conniving bitch (whether written that way, or just was), who would do anything, both for camera time and to "win" this game, get to the end, to play out every episode?

I've often wondered that about this show. Given its many constraints, what could you really do, to get and hold this guy for yourself? There really isn't much.

Kacie B. has relied on grabbing kisses and alone time when she could. It seems to be working. I'd bet money she'll be one of the two standing at the end with Ben.

But her nemesis (this season's nemesis), let's call her Courtney, uses a different tack. She uses sex.

Anyone knows that if you want to get and keep a man, especially if you only have six weeks in which to do it, and dozens of other women are clawing around you trying for the same thing, you have to use sex.

I'm sure The Bachelor rules prohibit it, at least until the whole "Fantasy Suite" malarky, which hasn't even happened yet this season. There has been a whole lotta kissing, but not even any hot tubs to speak of (as in seasons past).

But there was this. Resident wench Courtney decided to break a few rules and corner Bachelor Ben at his hotel room. They went down to the surf to go skinny dipping. I would bet a year's salary that sex happened that night.

Courtney is annoying, but she's a model, and if I were Ben, I would for sure keep her around until Fantasy Suite time, for at least one more roll in the hay before dumping her.

But back to the good and innocence of The Bachelor. The show, ostensibly, is about true love. Or finding love. So what if, let's say, our heroine, Kacie B. does end up getting engaged to Ben at the end of the season, and she's sitting at home, watching the episodes go by, and she sees, what she didn't when they were all in Puerto Rico. She sees Ben's little frolic in the sand with the model?

Ben has so far been very cagey about whether or not he ends up proposing at the end. Or whether he's "happy now," which they always ask at the beginning. I suspect that even if he was happy for awhile, once he let out the "Oh, btw, I slept with Courtney" truth, that was the end of that.

But here's the thing. As a viewer of the show, even a viewer who mostly likes the show (even with all its "leap list" and bad writing, even with all its improbable dates), I watch every week, I wanna believe. But that whole thing with Courtney, and Courtney's smug attitude that Ben wouldn't even think about sending her home... Personally, I think it went like this. He said to her, "We can have sex, and I'll keep you till Fantasy Suite time, if you promise to not tell ANY of the other girls. If you do, you're going home in the next rose ceremony."

Cause she's been obnoxious and rude and braying about everything else, but about this big secret, this big elephant in the room, she's not lording it over anyone. There had to have been a deal made there.

Or maybe the producers came down on her heavy too. Cause it would really ruin the show, if all the other girls knew.

But aren't they all just sick to their stomachs now, seeing it unfold before them? I know I feel tainted watching it. Like there is some oily substance stuck to my psyche that I can't get off. Every time Courtney is on screen, I feel like throwing up.

We shall see... how it all evolves. But I bet Ben is alone when all is said and done.

What do you think? Sex on The Bachelor? Good thing? Bad thing?