For reasons known to only themselves and their god, Public Policy Polling (who usually kills it with their political polling) threw out a bunch of names of popular music stars and asked America which pop star they disliked the most. The results are somewhat/absolutely/not-at-all surprising… but the bigger question is, "DOES BLOGTOWN AGREE?" Take the following poll, and then hit the jump to see how the rest of America voted!
CLIK. CLIK. CLIK.
According to the January issue of Harper's, "One third of male Londoners suffer from penis blindness." WITHOUT USING THE INTERNET, please participate in this impromptu poll.
The answer is below the jump.
Former Portland goalkeeper Troy Perkins was a fan favorite in the Rose City before being unceremoniously swapped last season for current goalie Donovan Ricketts. He's still a tad touchy about the whole thing, and on Saturday night, Timbers Army was quick to show the 2011 Supporters Player of the Year there were no hard feelings coming from the North End.
During pregame warm-ups, the Army mistook Montreal backup Evan Bush (and his shaved head) for Perkins, and began chanting the latter's name. Oops. The actual Perkins then got a hearty cheer when lineups were announced and an even heartier boo when he took his time over the ball (read: stalled a bit) while Portland was scrambling to find a way to tie late during Saturday night's 2-1 loss. But it was after the game that TA's feelings for the ex truly surfaced, when just after the final whistle, Perkins immediately turned toward the Army had applauded them.
Again, the Army chanted: "PER-KINS, PER-KINS, PER-KINS." How nice, right? That old friends can re-connect?
Not every Timber thought so: Injured defender David Horst (another fan fave, it should be noted) took to Facebook and gave his candid assessment of the spontaneous love-fest, saying it was "frustrating" to see fans cheer for an opposing player right after their own team just ran their asses off for 90 minutes.
Timbers Army's Garrett Dittfurth responded later that evening, reminding the team that if they remember the name on the front of the jersey (Alaska Airlines? Oh, right, Portland Timbers!) the fans will remember the name on the back.
So whatdya think, Blogtown? Should TA have cheered Perkins or given him the cold shoulder? Let's put it to a poll!
Today's pointless office argument preventing everyone from getting to work, because they've apparently forgotten that Tuesday is our press deadline: WHEN DOES BRUNCH START AND END?
One viewpoint: "Brunch starts at 10 am and ends at 2 or 3 pm, because some people want breakfast, and some want lunch."
Another viewpoint: "Brunch starts at 9 am (breakfast goes anywhere from daybreak to 9 am), and ends at 11 am (anything after 11 is lunch up until "late lunch" "martini lunch" "happy hour" and dinner). Noon is lunch. That's why they call it lunch."
Yesterday, our "How Was Your 2012?" poll imploded—obviously because 2012 felt like he was above judgement. WELL, YOU'RE NOT ABOVE JUDGEMENT, 2012!! Even though you're officially retired, we're still going to track you down and judge you whether you like it or not! (Because Blogtown is like the Simon Wiesenthal of polls.)
LET'S START JUDGING, JUDY!
So far today I have seen two disturbing things. The first was an eyebrowless Jared Leto (for noble acting reasons but still).
Yesterday a plane circled high above Penn State's statue of football-hero/rape facilitator Joe Paterno, dragging a banner that bore a message for the school:
It's a message from the same guy who hired a plane to troll Tiger Woods at Pebble Beach and reminds me of a campaign that the American Atheists that flew these banners around the country on the Fourth of July:
So, aggressive airplane banners are now officially a protest "thing." Thoughts?
WHAT THE FUCK! The four remaining fans of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were recently able to sigh a big, Doritos-scented sigh of relief when Michael Bay's Ninja Turtle reboot was brutally euthanized—but now, because evil never sleeps, there's been another assault on the Heroes in a Half Shell*! Let us turn to our nation's esteemed paper of record, the New York Times, which, naturally, is reporting on this important and 100 percent relevant matter.
“Cowabunga” is apparently no longer cool. Now the turtles’ catchphrase is “booyakasha,” a word Sacha Baron Cohen helped popularize back when he was doing Da Ali G Show. (Via.)
WHAT THE FUCK! Apparently, Master Splinter's opinion doesn't count for shit. TO THE POLL!
Steve insisted that I blog this. He thinks it's funny. I think it needs to be funnier. We had kind of a heated discussion about it. It ended with Steve saying to me, "C'mon, funny clown! Make me laugh!"
Sigh. So here's the uproarious new video from Tenacious D, perhaps the funniest fucking thing you'll see all fucking year. Remember this moment well, because you will be telling your grandkids about it and they will shriek with glee.
To be fair, I found two funny things in the video—I won't say which, because perhaps they are different from your two funny things—and I also like the song, in a "2112" kind of way. However, the song has been edited to smithereens and doesn't really work musically as a three-plus minute rock song. It needs to be longer and proggier and more over the top. So go, check out the nearly six-minute album version and give this truncated version and hard-to-watch video a miss.
Or? Perhaps you like it?
Here's the trailer for the new Woody Allen film. It's called To Rome with Love. Yeah, that is a pretty lazy title, even for Woody. You would not be faulted for thinking it's exactly like Midnight in Paris but, you know, in Rome. Also, it stars—among many others—Jesse Eisenberg (who has never been in a Woody Allen film until now? how is that possible?) and Ellen Page (ditto?). And Roberto Benigni. Ugh. Here we go.
Well, I'll be... That looks... actually, you know, that looks fun. The trailer has some laughs in it. Rome looks positively incredible. And Woody is in the movie this time. So is Judy Davis, and that girl who played Kim Pine, and—sigh of sighs—Penélope Cruz in a red dress. Dammit, Woody, you got me. I'm in.
Paul's earlier post—gloriously entitled "Hot Dogs Cause Butt Cancer"—was almost perfect. ALMOST. The one glaring omission is obvious: Hot dogs should be allowed to defend themselves against such slanderous charges. That's why we're going to have a Blogtown poll in which YOU speak for the hot dogs. To wit:
So here's a bit of a service industry ethical conundrum... a certain person who may or may not work at this office told me that he went to a certain very famous food cart that serves fries on their "big" sandwiches, and ordered his sandwich WITHOUT FRIES. (He apparently feels this makes the sandwich too "greasy.") So when he orders the "big" roast beef sandwich without the fries on top, the person taking the order nicely refused, saying something like it was the "policy of the business" to always include the fries because otherwise it would mess with the "flavor profiles." (Again, this is hearsay, and summarizes the idea of the conversation rather than the actual quote.)
So the customer says he said, "But I don't want fries on my sandwich," to which the cart employee allegedly responded, "Well, perhaps you'd be happier buying your sandwich elsewhere." (Again, the employee was polite about it.)
SO WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF THIS? (Please note that I did not include any "Shut up, vegan!" options in the following poll... too easy.) Feel free to discuss the particulars of this situation in the comments!
But as you'll see from the video, it looks like Griggs might have started the whole incident by throwing his guitar at the drummer to begin with. As least that's how it looks to me.
The press release also includes a photo of Griggs with stitches in his forehead, which I'll include for ya after the jump. It goes on to say that Griggs quickly assembled a new backing band—and the newly constituted lineup of Radio Moscow plays in Portland tonight, opening for Graveyard at the Doug Fir.
So I ask you, readers, after watching this video—
Last night, I took a break from Occupy coverage to see the saddest movie ever, How to Die in Oregon, at the Whitsell Auditorium in the Portland Art Museum. The movie follows an upbeat, awesome 54-year-old Portland mom with liver cancer as she chooses to end her life under Oregon's Death With Dignity law. At the end of the screening, the whole crowd is crying, rapt and sniffling as the director gets onstage for a Q&A. The room is somber and quiet. Then, the couple next to my boyfriend and me get up to leave and drop their pipe, spilling fragments of marijuana on the floor. They somehow don't notice and quickly head for the exit, leaving us to dissolve into completely inappropriate laughter that draws stares.
The question, of course, is immediate: What do we do? This is a very particular Portland problem. I'll post what we did in the comments.
Like it or not, Hollywood recently dragged "3D" kicking and screaming from its comfortable tomb in an effort to raise ticket prices for no real, discernible consumer gain. Likewise, tech companies have taken to including 3D tech in their newst gadgets. TVs, phones, cameras, even the latest descendent of the GameBoy all feature 3D displays, the ability to take 3D photos and just enough cognitive disconnect to cause splitting headaches is large sections of the human population.
Last night I was playing the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time remake on my Nintendo 3DS — excellent game, by the way — when my cat walked by and rubbed her side up against the handheld. Immediately the screen grew intensely blurry. It took me a moment to realize what had happened, but then it hit me: My cat had rubbed against the handheld's 3D slider, turning on the gimmick and giving the game a deep, if overly-static level of graphical flourish.
Truth be told, even though 3D is supposed to be the big selling point of the Nintendo 3DS, I never turn it on. At best, it's distracting during gameplay and at worst it actively hurts my head. With that in mind, I took to Twitter to ask my fellow games writers whether they dug the 3D gimmick or not. Of 19 people replying to my very informal pol, only one liked the 3D imagery, and he only used it for a handful of 3D 8-bit NES remakes like the new 3D Classics: Twinbee.
Though it supported my stubborn hypothesis, I still feel as if I need something a bit more scientifically sound. Thus, I come to you, the Blogtown audience, to ask for your opinion on this whole debacle. Is 3D an awesome technological leap, or is this more stupid entertainment industry bullshit designed to swipe our hard-earned B. Franklins?
So the Geekcraft contest went very well. As always dear readers, it's you who makes this job special.
On that note, it's only proper that you choose the winner of this awesome contest. Hit the jump for all the entrants and a poll. Poll closes at midnight!
This passive-aggressive note was pasted on top of a Thor movie poster.
Look, I didn't know it was a competition, but... okay! If that's the way you Christians want it!
With the progression of society, we have lost the ability to do a lot of fun—albeit immoral by today's standards—things. And overall? This is a very good thing, and because of it, we are a more humane and civilized people. That being said, I may intellectually hate jet skis—and yet, I would give my left testicle to cut some water cookies with one in Walden Pond.
SO! Let's take a poll that will secretly gauge the level of our repressed immorality.
In this week's "I, Anonymous" entitled "Spiritual Dog Shit Unity," the writer seems to take umbrage with people putting doggy doo in his/her trashcan.
I saw you put your dog's bag of shit into my garbage can in front of my house. How NICE that you have no boundaries and enjoy sharing your dog's smelly, messy bag with others. I can see by your REI sportswear that you're a fitness buff, but can't bear to carry that HEAVY load back to your own house. If you'd also leave me your address, I'll gladly bring over bags of reeking, disgusting garbage since we're all one garbage dump in this gestalt world of yours. Next time I'll take your picture so other neighbors can help fill your cans with refuse we JUST can't seem to carry home. Thank you for opening me up to your all-shit-removal- is-one universe. You've made garbage yet another area we can link arms and sing "Kumbaya" under the rainbow of spiritual dog shit unity. -Anonymous
We're gotten a few angry emails already regarding this person's opinion, such as this choice bit:
Are you fucking kidding me? Would you rather that steaming pile of stinky doo be left on your lawn? Garbage cans are for... what's that word? hmmm... just had it a minute ago... oh yeah - GARBAGE. Portland is a dog-friendly town my anal friend. Nobody likes to walk their dog with a fresh'n'sweaty bag of doggy deuce!
Hmmm... I think this calls for a scientifically exact and legally binding Blogtown poll! (Feel free to discuss the finer points of this issue in the comments below.)
UPDATE! The earlier poll was fucked up for some reason, so I've replaced it. FEEL FREE TO RE-VOTE!
Am I the only person on earth who leaves a tip for the maid when checking out? My momma taught me to always tip the maid—it's hard work, they could use dough, it's only right—but I suspect that I might be the last person in America who still leaves a tip the maid. I've had more than one friend react with shock when I've checked to make sure I had a $5 bill before heading back to the hotel so I could tip the maid in the morning. And this morning, leaving a hotel in Boston, I left $5 for the maid. I also left something else behind in my room and when I went back up the maid was already in there, stripping the bed. When I told her I had forgotten something... she handed me the $5 I'd left for her on the nightstand, thinking it was a mistake, or that it was what I'd forgotten in the room.
Am I all alone? Does anyone else tip the maid?
WHEN CHECKING OUT I...
|Most Popular||I, Anonymous||Best of the Merc|
Get the best of the Mercury each week in your inbox!