O Tannenbummer

Yesterday I had occasion to go into the Big City on business and afterwards backtracked a little bit to take a look at this year’s “holiday” tree at Rock Center. It’s a tradition, of course, but it’s also a traditional shame. The tree they sacrifice every year is a symbol for the holiday (shopping) season but even before the lighting ceremony it is obvious the tree is dying, as they say, on the vine. The branches droop and they would be scraping the pavement if cables were not attached to bolster them up. In the light of day it’s kind of distressing to see a magnificent natural wonder reduced to sagging ugliness. The ceremony tonight will make it all so pretty with all the proper lighting and caroling and the ice skaters swooping around. Maybe in a couple of weeks I’ll get into the spirit of the season and can ignore the fate of this beautiful tree and the mulch it’s destined to become, way before its time.

Southern Comfortable

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygeWsoYYMuQ&feature=relmfu

This commercial just kills me every time I see it. I did some research and it’s had almost 7 million hits on YouTube (and counting). The product is Southern Comfort bourbon and, although I’ve pretty much graduated to more high-end whiskey for my manhattans, Southern Comfort is certainly a good basic ingredient.

But, hey, about the commercial: needless to say (although I hate that hackneyed phrase) I identify with that guy strolling the beach in his Speedo, sunglasses and funky shoes. I even like the dog and the way the dude dips his body a little bit when passing the pretty girl, and the soundtrack (Odetta’s “Hit or Miss”) couldn’t be more perfect.

Kudos to the creators who had the balls to produce it and get it out there for the world to see and even, just maybe, it might engender a little tolerance for the public exposure of “different” body types. The catch phrase “Whatever’s Comfortable” is pure genius. I guess I should go out and buy a bottle of Southern Comfort just to show my appreciation. Or, at least, write a fan-blog about it.

Irony on trial

I understand irony, I really do. But I think irony has to include subtlety. For instance, anything painted on velvet doesn't work. And neither does this attempt at irony that is now on the market. It's a knife through the heart of irony. Would anybody really want this on their kitchen counter? Remember, being perverse is different than being ironic.

Bunyan Dreams

There is nothing that makes a man feel like a manly man than a plaid flannel shirt, especially if the sleeves are pushed up exposing the wrist-cuffs of red long johns underneath. You might think this is a bunch of (blue) bull but it really is true. A couple of weeks ago I bought a red plaid and a hunter-green plaid on-line from the Duluth Trading Co. and they were delivered today. They look good on me and feel good against my manly chest and, right now, I’m feeling extra manly just looking at them hanging in my manly closet. I know, I know, my closet doors are mirrored but, hey, that just multiplies the macho manliness. I’m feeling so butch right now I can hardly speak.

Unfortunately, damn my Caucasian eyes, the labels inform me that these shirts were made in China. Do they even have lumberjacks in China?