Holiday Spirit: The New Avatars

You may have noticed my social media profiles have a new look. I decided to be festive this year and give a little nod to my namesake (or, at least that's what I tell everyone. My mom swears there's no specific reason she named me Mandi other than, "I just liked that name.").

Boo.

Here's the (fake) story behind my name:


Christmas just isn't really happening until I watch this film. Which is why it's currently NOT Christmas season. It will be after this weekend. Mark your calendars.

*Sigh* Bing Crosby. I was SO born in the wrong decade...

And, yes, I have 3 versions of this film's soundtrack.

And, yes, when I get married this song will be playing at some point.

I WON $1.5 MILLION DOLLARS!!!

Today, I opened my Spam Mail folder and found this message:

Re: Your Payment Directive..

Attention: Beneficiary,

This is to inform you that the United Nations auditors are presently in Nigeria suppervising all contract payments, inherited and winning funds that originated from Africa.

Your names/email address appeared in the central computer among the unpaid beneficiaries that have not received their payment due to one reason or the other.
After the United Nations meeting with the Nigerian government, a part payment of US$1.5million was approved to all fund beneficiaries which you are among. The United Nations have instructed the Nigerian government to release your approved US$1.5million via ATM card for easy delivery to you. The only fee you shall pay to receive your US$1.5million ATM card in your possession is the courier fee of US$98.00 only.

Your ATM card authorization documents has been handed over to Mrs. Laura George of the United Nations, she shall facilitate the delivery of your ATM card payment to you but before she can release the $1.5million ATM card payment to you, you have to reconfirm the following information's to her so as to ensure her that she is dealing with the right person:

1. Your Full Names, 2. Residential Address,3. Age, 4. Occupation, and 5. Direct Telephone Numbers.

After her verification of the information with what she have on file, she shall contact you with information's on how to send the courier fee for the delivery of your US$1.5million ATM card to you.

You are to forward the requested information's to Mrs. Laura George with her below contact.

Here is Mrs. Laura's contact info:

Contact person: Mrs. Laura George (United Nations Oversight Agent)
His email: ( un.lauragg@mynet.com )

Do let us know once you receive your US$1.5million inheritance payment from Mrs. Laura for the updating of our record.

Yours faithfully .

Jenet Michael.
Payment Coordinator.
NOTE: YOU ARE ONLY ADVISE TO FORWARD REPLY TO Mrs. Laura George'S EMAIL : un.lauragg@mynet.com

O.M.Gee!

The "suppervisor" has my "names" as a beneficiary?!?!

But why, if the money is going to be sent to my ATM card, is there a courier fee? There's no courier-ing involved. It doesn't cost $98.00 to move money through digital space.

Hm, maybe this is a scam.

I see they want me to send the "information's" to them via Mrs. Laura George at the United Nations.

Hm, I never trust anyone with two first names...

They want my full names, and, after I give them the "information's" they will match it to what Laura "have" on file.

Know what's funny? Mrs. Laura George, who works for the United Nations, doesn't have a United Nations email address.

I didn't know the United Nations was so strapped for cash that they couldn't set up their own server and URL.

These government austerity measures are really wreaking havoc on Nigerian money scams...

VD "Dislike"

Here I thought I was doing so well.

What with the Packers winning the Super Bowl last week.

And the Iron Cupcake Challenge this weekend.

I just didn't have time to hate VD (Valentine's Day) as much as I used to...or, really, as early as I used to.

Until I saw this.

And this.

You should be ashamed of yourselves, MSN Glo. First, for copy-catting Yahoo Shine. Second, for giving the okay to use the word "boo" in reference to a significant other in that article's intro.

Barf.

And you, Today Techlicious...you're not off the hook. While you have nothing to be ashamed of, per se, adding "-licious" to the end of a word is, oh, so 2002. Also, I certainly don't appreciate you bringing it to my attention that some people on Facebook make profiles for their coupledom.

I think we can all agree that the shame, in this instance, goes to those couples.

Seriously? You want to make a fan page for your relationship? Sure, you "have" to go the fan page route because FB doesn't let you create an actual profile for two people, but you then have the audacity to join an actual Facebook group to encourage the Powers that Be to allow this?

*facepalm*

I do give the MSN article credit for at least, in some small way, discouraging folks from doing this, but c'mon.

Fan pages for relationships. Asking your friends to 'Like' your relationship. Posting on your relationship's wall. Creating events for your relationship.

You've gone too far.

My goal in life is to be Jenny from The League

I came across this article today: Introducing the "Mom Cave."

A place for moms to hang out by themselves? Sure, sounds like a good idea.

Decorated in hot pink and shabby chic ruffles? Puh-lease.

Can we BE anymore stereotypical, Homegoods?

I'm reminded of a time when I went to a week-long national conference for my college church group. It was in the same city where I went to university, so it seemed like a good idea. I had fun. I met a lot of folks. It was great. And then they mentioned the plans for men's and women's groups.

I think the exact words were something like, "Men! We have the Metrodome confirmed for our event...the freakin' METRODOME!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"!!!!!!!"

"And....um....oh yeah...ladies we have something fun planned for you too."

That "something fun" was a do-it-yourself spa night.

A freakin' spa night. Do-it-yourself.

By this time, I was sick of it being assumed that all women at church wanted to do when we got together was have a spa night. Seriously. That's all we ever did. Spa nights.

I, myself, would've - to use the parlance of our times - freakin' loved playing a pick-up game of tag football on the Metrodome field, or, heck, even just being on the field.

But, nope. Men only.

And now, well, I give Homegoods credit for adapting the whole "Man Cave" phenomenon for women, but c'mon. Some of us girly girls still have a tomboy side.

In fact, it's my fondest ambition to be the kind of wife and mother that Jenny is on The League. And not just because I'd have an awesome brother-in-law named Taco.

No, it's more that I would relish being a pretty easy-going mother who can kick her husband's butt in Fantasy Football (that this would require me to understand and care about Fantasy Football is not the topic of today's discussion).

Ultimately, I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's more to women than pink ruffly things, especially THIS woman.

Just check my Twitter feed from this week. (Seriously? The ESPN Sports Center talking heads all picked the Bears on Monday and now they're all picking the Packers? What gives, Flip Floppers?)

With that, I leave you with the man my future brother-in-law must live up (or down) to...depending on how you view it (sorry, the Birthday Song doesn't allow embedding):

Baby Boom

Lately I've had quite a few friends announce new additions to their families.

This is great.

I love babies.

However, it makes me wonder just what the heck was going on 9 months ago that so many of my nearest and dearest are now parents.

I did a bit of digging and found this.

Ah, that explains it then.

I Actually Love The Walking Dead

I really like:



In part because of this guy:



Though, to be fair, in a zombie apocalypse, poster board decorated with emotionally compromising messages wouldn't be a very effective weapon.




Sidenote: Did anyone else catch that the Walking Dead's Director effectively fired the entire writing crew yesterday? The writing crew happens to include the man who penned the comic book on which the series is based. Egads.

Welcome, December.

Glad to have you back; we've missed you so.

Personally speaking, I've missed your Yuletide charms and wintry, snow-covered vistas.

I haven't missed the shoveling though. Can you put in a good word to Santa for me? I could use a snow blower...

Anyway, I just wanted to say, "Hi," and welcome you back via my own little corner of The Internets.

I'm so happy to see you brought your best friend, Snow, with you. And for that, I present you with one of our most cherished songs of snow:

National Sandwich Day

Tweeting the 1960's

Did you know that Mad Men is a fantastic show? No? Well, then, I have nothing else to say to you.

If, however, you love Mad Men as much as this PR (oh the horror!) gal, then you'll want to fire up your Twitter account and start following the fine folks of Sterling Cooper Draper Price.



The Crew
Don Draper Only slightly demeaning to women.
Peggy Olson A bit of an identity crisis in the happening.
Pete Campbell You can see him swirling the scotch in his lowball as you read through the tweets.
Roger Sterling Does he still come into work?
Ken Cosgrove Only 97% jerk.
Paul Kinsey Takes his sensitive side seriously.
Sal Romano Alas, not with SCDP, but still relevant.
Bertram Cooper I don't think he actually works either.

Joan Harris Ballsy yet classy.
Miss Blankenship Crotchety.
Secretary Practically non-existent, unless SCDP needs to get some work done.

The Ex and the New Mr.
Betty (Draper) Francis Poster Mom for the blog Really Bad Parenting Advice.
Henry Francis Character with an unclear purpose.

The Kids:
Sally Draper Definitely an identity crisis, but she's a pre-teen child of divorce, so it's expected.
Robert Draper Lots of questions.
Gene Draper Few answers.

The Workhorses:
Xerox Machine Could be more snarky.
Vending Machine Sets the precedent for office machine snark.

There are so many bit players that it's hard to list them all. Like Bethany Van Nuys and Anna Draper (now a Twitter user from beyond the grave, apparently). And there are multiple accounts for each character, so it's hard to know who's authoring them. Certainly none of the accounts have been verified (wink), but take a look, follow along, and enjoy the convo.

My Night at the Roller Derby

Have you ever been to a roller derby?

http://flickr.com/photos/colinj/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

It's brutal. Intimidating women on wheels, hip-to-hip jostling, the occassional fast-flying skater tumbling into the front row of spectators...brutal.

But also awesome.

For the low, low price of $15, the Brew City Bruisers give you two matches and a half-time show.

Don't be fooled. They say they're an "amateur" league, but I wonder if that's just meant to lull you into a feeling of safety.

Having lived in Eastern Europe, my favorite team is, of course, The Rushin' Rollettes, but as far as clever names go, The Shevil Knevils are a close second.

Speaking of clever names, the ladies have some pretty good ones themselves. I'd have to say Coco Shrapnel of the Crazy Eights is my favorite lady skater name, and [O]edipus Ref is my favorite name of all the dudes in stripes.

Like everyone seated around us, LB and I took the liberty of coming up with as many roller derby names as we could think of. Seeing as how this illustrious event took place five days ago, you'll forgive me if these are all that I can remember:

Commie Kaze - skating for the Rushin' Rollettes team, of course
Frito Slaya - delicious with chili and cheese poured on top
Conflict Diamond - this would be my name, and I stole it from Joss Whedon
Minx Stoli - this would be LB's name, and she'd keep a mini bottle in her skate at all times, again, no doubt she'd be skating for the Rushin' Rollettes
Schlitzkreig - a good ol' Milwaukee original, sure to skate for the Brew City Bruisers or Milwaukee maidens
Cleoscratchya - a history lesson in Egypt's fascination with felines
Elizabeth the Fist - another history lesson that packs a punch

Debating what your roller derby name would be is all fine and good, especially if you're clever about it (I'm talking to you young ladies seated behind us, "Baywatch Babe"?!?! Really?!?!), but what really made the night entertaining were the breakskaters.

That's right, folks, I said "breakskaters."

You: "What is a breakskater, Ms. Quarter?"
Me: "An illusion of awesomeness, You, an illusion of awesomeness."

Now why an "illusion" you ask?

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Well, because, though breakdancing on skates - which is what breakskating is, after all - is awesome, I'm pretty sure that it takes a lot of practice to be able to do those sweet moves on wheels.

This leads me to two conclusions.

1. At one point in your young life you thought, "Hey, I think breakdancing on rollerskates would be pretty sweet."

and

2. You then spent the entirety of your childhood practicing your breakskating at the local roller rink.

Illusion of awesomeness, people, illusion.

Hey, hey, hey! It's Faaaaaaat Tuesday!

Oh, Fat Albert, if you only knew how much you really inspired me as a child.

Well, Internets, I hope you've got a helmet to protect you from all of the beads and doubloons flying your way, because Mardi Gras is here.

It's a well-known fact that I faithfully celebrate the holiday each year, but rather than get dressed up in a skimpy, glittery number with a feathered headdress, I opt for beignets.


Not to be confused with paczki, Polish Americans. Pączki are for Tłusty czwarte.



It was many moons ago - one February Thursday 4 years ago - when I found myself alone, in the middle of the night, in a Polish train station in the middle of nowhere. I and two other passengers were waiting for our connection to Cieszyn.

One, an older man, fell asleep on a bench across the station. The other, a young, studious-looking man left the station into the dark of night for places unknown.

Color me surprised when he returned a short 20 minutes later.

Color me another level of surprised (threat level orange, maybe?) when he came over to me, sat down, and pulled out a bakery bag.

He proceeded to pull out two pączki and handed one to me. Nevermind where he managed to purchase pączki in the middle of the night in Poland. Perhaps Tłusty czwarte is reason enough, though, in my experience of European countries, things usually shut down on holidays, not remain open longer.

Bygones.

Regardless of where the sugary abundance came from, I enjoyed a few moments with my new friend.

He didn't speak English and I don't speak Polish, so we weren't friends for long.

Just long enough to enjoy the moment together.

Let this be a lesson to you men - a wordless moment shared with a woman when donuts are also involved means you'll be remembered forever.

PS - If you're looking for a good time, Cafe Imperial in Prague keeps a plate of stale donuts on their counter. For a nominal fee (in the scheme of things) you can purchase the donuts and chuck them at anyone in the cafe with Imperial's full support.

Annual VD Post

If I had a nickel every time someone asked why I don't have a boyfriend I would have, well, at least a dozen nickels, which isn't that many in the scheme of things.

Still, after reading this story, I now have a new reply to folks asking me that question. It's because I'm looking for a guy like that, though, of course, single and more in my age bracket. Until I find him I'll keep collecting those nickels, thank you very much.

With that said, I bet you're wondering what all this has to do with venereal disease.

The answer, of course, is nothing.

VD is my shorthand for Valentine's Day. It's a little known fact that, for all intents and purposes, venereal disease and Valentine's Day are one in the same.

In my estimation, the best way to spend VD is by watching horror movies. For those of you with a honey, you can snuggle up together when the going gets tough (read: scenes get scary), and for the single folks, you can gleefully watch what was a romance movie go horribly awry.

Thus, I bring to you, the five best horror movies for VD (in no particular order):

1. White Zombie (1932)
The first zombie film ever made, it begins with a classic love triangle. Neil and Madeline are engaged. They take a trip to Haiti. Charles Beaumont wants Madeline for himself. He enlists Bela Lugosi's character (name too ridiculous for publication here), who gives him a vial of a mysterious drug. Madeline dies after inhaling the drug, but we find later that she isn't dead. She's a zombie, and Lugosi and his zombie slaves come to claim her.

2. Amityville Horror (1979, 2005)
Newlyweds move into a house - a grand house on waterfront property that they shouldn't be able to afford. It seems too good to be true. It is. I think the 1979 version is the scariest - there's something about horror movies of the 1960's and 70's that had a great suspense factor where now they usually just have a bloodshed factor. I do, however, think the 2005 version is pretty good, but Ryan Reynold's naked torso has a lot to do with my favorable opinion.

3. Rosemary's Baby (1968)
Rosemary and her husband move into a new apartment. Husband is an actor, and a bad one at that. He makes friends with the neighbors. Suddenly his acting career takes off, and Rosemary gets preggers. What's more romantic than your hubby bartering the use of your womb in trade for career success?

4. Shaun of the Dead (2004)
Who doesn't love a horror movie that's also a comedy? And for this one, the romance factor is pretty high seeing as how Shaun braves the zombie-filled London streets just to ensure that his ex-girlfriend, Liz, is safe. Ladies, this is probably the only way you'll get your man to willingly see a romantic comedy.

5. The Shining (1980)
Wife with bug eyes and writer husband move the family to a remote, isolated hotel to be caretakers in the off-season. Hotel is haunted. Husband becomes possessed and tries to kill his family. Now THAT'S romance for the ages.

Games I Wish Were in the Winter Olympics

I came across this list of wacky, discontinued Olympic sports the other day. My favorite is Dueling Pistols, which always makes for a dramatic event. Apparently, though, athletes shot at mannequins "dressed in fancy clothes" rather than each other.

Safety - and fashion - first, afterall.

This got me thinking. What games should be in the Winter Olympics? What fun, winter sports (term used loosely) would directly increase the entertainment value of this noble tradition?

In honor of the 2010 Winter Olympics, I bring you this: Games I Wish Were in the Winter Olympics

1. Snow Angels
Taking a page from the Dueling Pistols book (the part about the fashionable mannequins), the point of this "sport" would be to produce the most perfect and elegant snow angel. The competition would begin with "athletes" collapsing into the snow, and end only when they successfully stand and leave their masterpieces. Everyone knows making a snow angel is easy, but it's keeping it intact once you've stood and walked away that's tricky.


2. Lunch Tray Sledding
The highlight of every college student's winter is Lunch Tray Sledding. Athletes would be equipped with your standard-issue, red plastic lunch tray and be tasked with gaining the longest glide. A snowplow-made hill in the middle of a parking lot would be the best "field of play," but in a pinch the bunny hill at the ski slopes will do. Extra points for maintaining perfect balance when perched on the butt-sized, plastic rectangle.


3. Snowball Warfare
This needs little explaining. Points will be given for cleverness of strategy, strength of throwing arm (as determined by speed of snowball), radius of impact, and, if applicable, sturdiness of snow fort.


4. Hot Chocolate Drinking Contest
Possibly the most dangerous of these suggestions, the Hot Chocolate Drinking Contest will be winter's answer to the ever-popular hot dog eating contests.

Winner is determined by amount of hot chocolate, in pints, consumed. However, points will be deducted in the case of vomit - the number of points deducted in direct proportion to distance of spewage achieved.

What about you? What event do you think should be added to the winter Olympics?

RIP Phil Harris

It is with great sadness that I opened up my Yahoo! mail to read this notice.

Phil Harris, of Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch has passed away.

You may remember my love affair with this popular, blue collar reality TV porn from previous posts. And you may remember last year that, in anticipation of the return of this great small screen gem, I asked the question, "Will Phil return to captain the Cornelia Marie?" knowing that he suffered a health problem the previous year.

Well, he did indeed return last year to the delight of all viewers, and he will be greatly missed now and in the future. It was just the other day that I checked Discovery Channel's site for information on the upcoming season, before I remembered that it usually starts in the Spring.

If you, like me, enjoy this show and wish to offer condolences, you can go to Discovery Channel's site and do so.

You can also view Captain Phil and Cornelia Marie highlights here.

I don't watch Lost

Below is a video from Newsweek where staff who have never watched Lost watch some clips and see if they can make sense of the show.

I started watching the show when it first started, and halfway through the third episode I got bored. My friends tell me it's gotten real badass lately, but I just don't have the will to watch seasons of episodes in order to get to the good part.

As a consolation prize, I enjoy the video below.

Dr. Horrible...my new Joss Whedon fix.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Joss Whedon is a genius.

Check out this video: Dr. Horribles Sing-Along Blog - Dr. Horribles Sing-Along Blog



This is what Joss Whedon does when he's bored. I'm so glad that They (those who decide such things), gave him another TV show.

Things I've decided upon watching this gem:
1. I want a Captain Hammer t-shirt (you can buy them here)
2. I wish I would have known about this when the writer's strike was actually happening and there was nothing on TV to watch.
3. Nathan Fillion is one of my favorite actors in the Joss Whedon posse
4. Conflict Diamond is an excellent name for a villain
5. Doogie Howser is quite the singer

Worst. Movie. Ever.

My friends and I have a weekly tradition of getting together on Monday nights to watch Dexter and cook dinner. We often enjoy trying new recipes while we warm up with the latest Bill Maher on DVR.

With no new Dexter episodes since December, we resorted to TV on DVD – oldies but goodies. Being that we are big Joss Whedon fans, we started with Buffy Seasons 1-3. Alas, unable to bring ourselves to purchase or rent the awful Season 4, we wondered what next to watch and finally decided upon Angel.

Weekly viewings not giving us the opportunity to finish the first season fast enough, I spent Memorial Day weekend at their house in order to have a marathon of cooking and Angel episodes (which go together like peas & carrots, no?).

The day was lovely, we made spring rolls and cheese cups with guacamole, and managed to bang out most of Season One. We saw Doyle die, met Dennis the friendly ghost, and even saw Wesley try to be a man (which he does not achieve until Season 5).

My friends also happen to love horror movies, as do I, and so after the gorge of supernatural Whedonesque, with a few short breaks for Wii, we decided to cap off the evening with a scary thriller that would (hopefully) leave us too scared to go to bed.

30 Days of Night was billed as a “bone-chilling adaptation of the cult-hit graphic novel.”

We disagree.

The movie, indeed, is thirty days of night, which we interpreted as thirty days of hell, or at least that’s how long the 113-minute run-time feels.

The story is about an Alaskan town that is attacked by vampires during the winter. Correct me if I am wrong, but doesn’t the 24-hour darkness in Alaska last longer than thirty days? And isn’t it a gradual change, in that, you ease into the complete darkness with ever lessening hours of daylight over the course of several weeks? In other words, it’s not as if a switch flips and you suddenly go from one day of bright sunlight to the next day of pitch black night.

And don’t even get me started on the zombies from 30 Days of Night, I mean, “vampires.” After spending the day watching Angel, we know what a vampire is like, and it is not a dumb, senseless, throat ripper. No, a vampire is much more efficient in the blood drinking process, and usually wipes his mouth clean afterward.

Vampires.

Not Vampire (aka: zombie from 30 Days of Night)

Holes in the plotline notwithstanding, this was the dumbest, un-scariest movie I have ever seen. Twenty minutes into the epic blood fest, we fast-forwarded through the scenes until we were fifteen minutes from the end.

Sad thing is, we didn’t miss anything.

The only other movie I have had to fast forward through due to a high lameness factor is The House on Haunted Hill. In that case, I was disappointed to learn that the “evil” in the house was really a black smoky blob. Ooooh, scary.

Luckily for the townspeople in this movie, the fight culminates the last day of darkness. If they make it through, they will live to see the sun. We learn that the only way to save the town is if Josh Hartnett becomes a vampire and fights his vampire enemies – apparently he would still get the vampire strength and wiliness, but would remain human in emotion long enough to die by sunlight (on Day 31) in the arms of his somewhat girlfriend.

Explain to me why everyone else who was turned into a vampire immediately became a nasty killing machine but Josh Hartnett was okay for the last fifteen minutes of the film.

I find the scariest movies are the ones that are the most plausible. Here’s to hoping horror movie screen writers will stop being so lazy and start plugging the holes in their plot lines. Cheers.

When I hear "Milwaukee" I think beer and pretzels

I just came across this great, great, great (think Alec Baldwin playing Tony Bennett on SNL) photo on a Google web search for "Milwaukee." This little gem, apparently, used to be a postcard, which begs the question, "why don't we get such campy postcard choices now?" The last time I was in a touristy-type store in town, all I saw were cows, farms, and skylines - hardly the retrocentric images we all know and love.

Ultimately, this image brings me back to the Twin Cities Food & Wine experience 2 years past, when my Wisconsinite friends and I spent the day visiting the Pabst booth and asking the server to, "PBR me ASAP."

Speaking of retrocentric, my new favorite e-card site is Someecards, a treasure trove of sassy, snarky e-cards perfect for when Hallmark is just too sentimental.

Thoughts on Investigative Journalism

Wikipedia, holder of all knowledge, states that investigative journalism is, “a type of reporting in which reporters (go figure) deeply investigate a topic of interest, often involving crime, political corruption, or some other scandal.”

I assume that such investigation requires weeks, if not months, of work, and journalists act in a professional, unbiased manner. However, in watching TMJ4 - a local news channel - the other evening, I found investigative journalism to be something much different.

Usually I abhor local news for their sensationalist reporting and rampant fear-mongering. News is exciting enough without all of the contrived drama. This instance was no different, yet I managed to catch a trailer for an upcoming segment (the need for 10 o’clock news segments to have a trailer is a discussion for another day).

The trailer advertised a piece on a local contractor who is reportedly charging too much money for his low quality work, and then befriending his hapless clients in order to extort money from them.

This man’s current client happens to be an older woman, whose family gift wrapped and delivered the story to TMJ4 in an effort to draw attention to themselves, I mean to the injustice.

The trailer for the story showcases a reporter chasing after the handyman with a microphone, and asking, “Is it your practice to steal money from the elderly?” as the man walks to his car with as much dignity as he can muster.

Perhaps this guy is a sleaze and a cheat. No doubt he is draining clients’ bank accounts in exchange for substandard home repair, but the only thing this advertisement managed to do was to make sure I was on his side before I tuned in to the presentation (a tough feat considering the guy is a con man).

Reporters chasing “interviewees” with a microphone and camera crew? Investigative journalists asking leading questions, “helping” the viewer connect the dots without giving fair chance for the interviewees to defend themselves?

Objection, Your Honor!

This is not to say that the handyman in question is not a con man who deserves to be publicly flogged, but it is to say that local news stations will stop at nothing in the name of “investigative reporting” to create drama and sensationalize a story once strong enough to stand on its own.

Which is really quite sad because it turns off educated viewers who demand unbiased news reporting based on a strong truthiness quotient (see below). Viewers like me. Which is why I now get my news from The Daily Show and Colbert Report. Because if I have to choose between sensational newsertainment or comedic newsertainment, I choose the laughs.

America's Port - not like the wine

Last night whilst channel surfing the uninspiring 9pm CST time slot, I came across an episode of America’s Port on NatGeo. As I said in my last post, I saw the trailers for this new blue-collar reality show and was intrigued enough to take it for a test drive.

This episode began aboard the cruise ship Monarch of the Seas, as we meet the first-ever female captain. The ship is docked in Catalina, 20 miles southwest of the Port of Los Angeles. A port police dive team must go underwater and check the hull for IEDs, which I heard are all the rage in any terrorist organization.

Sixteen divers in two teams submerge, and start checking the barnacles for telltale red blinking lights and MacGyver-like digital countdown clocks.

This author must admit that barnacles have always grossed her out for reasons unknown. She becomes skittish when swimming too close to boats and/or piers, and tries to stay away from the slimy, algae-covered surfaces. Sorry, we digress.

Twenty minutes into the dive one team is fighting a wicked current and cannot continue. The other team spends the next two hours picking up the slack and no bombs are to be found. We cut to a bigwig in port authority who interviews that today is the busiest day of the year because not two, not three, but four cruise ships are scheduled to make port in L.A.

This means more passengers embarking and disembarking with much luggage to be checked for explosives and narcotics. And let us not even mention the cleaning and restocking of each cruise ship in preparation of its next voyage.

After our commercial break (so Extra gum is now billing itself as a “5 calorie snack”? What’s up with that?), it is now pre-dawn at the Port of Los Angeles. Our Monarch cruise ship is entering the channel and maneuvering in 23mph winds to find its berth.

Port authority must escort each ship through the channel, apparently to play interference between the ships and any unregistered small craft that may mean harm (see: USS Cole in Yemen). A port authority pilot takes over at the helm to guide each vessel to its pier.

As we see this pilot maneuver the Monarch, Thom Beers describes what highs winds can mean for this particular vessel, and explains that the wind could push the Monarch into an already parked ship causing billions of dollars in lost profits for the entire country. No pressure or anything, Thom.

It turns out Thom’s fears are realized as the Monarch’s lady captain takes over the wheel because a container ship, Evergreen, has just announced the dreaded Breach (Breech?). This author formerly thought breach was only in reference to births and Hollywood blockbuster films about secure computer systems, but now is told that it also refers to one of the worst situations possible in naval/maritime relations. Because of the aforementioned high winds, the Monarch is now on a collision course with the Evergreen (collision = breach).

Voice on Loudspeaker keeps announcing things like, “Breach to Evergreen three-zero,” in reference to the fact that our cruise ship is only thirty meters from impact, yet this author feels that merely announcing the obvious without suggesting any solution is hardly helpful. Not to mention the cold, inflectionless way he says it. The ships are about to crash; you think he could drum up a bit of emotion.

Alas, the crash is averted through ship-driving mechanisms unknown to me.

We immediately cut to two hours later. It is seven o’clock in the morning, and our port workers must load 90 pallets of supplies onto the Crystal Symphony, one of the four cruise ships in port today. Crystal Symphony needs to get loaded and then get the hell out of dodge as the Port has only three docks for cruise ships, yet one more ship is on its way. In other words: there’s no room at the inn, and Crystal Symphony drew the short straw.

The next twenty minutes are footage of bomb and narcotics sniffing dogs checking luggage interspersed with a stressed looking dock manager in charge of loading supplies on Crystal Symphony.

The stressed dock manager is blowing a gasket because, instead of the previously arranged 90 pallets of crap, more semi trucks keep driving in and running the tally up to over 250 pallets of crap. Explained to the uninformed viewer, this is a lot of crap to load in five hours. After a few tense minutes and one commercial interruption, all is well as the ship gets loaded and vacates the premises.

But is everything all well?

We head back to our favorite K9’s, whereupon the bomb sniffing dog sniffs a bomb, and the narcotics sniffing dog sniffs narcotics. The police handlers assure us this rarely happens, yet I am obliged to disagree as what are the odds that two things that never happen, happen on the same day?

After all living persons are cleared from the building and the bomb squad X-rays the bag, we learn that what looks like a grenade is actually a chunk of coral. We also learn that the aforementioned explosives are actually residue from when the bag’s douche bag owner transported guns and ammo to a gun range. Seriously, Dumbass, thanks for wasting everyone’s time.

The narcotics, however, turn out to be residue of previously transported marijuana. This douche bag is detained by the police and questioned. The nineteen year old answers that he does not remember what drug was in the bottle (the narcotic-smelling article in question is a prescription drug bottle), and the police officer cordially offers to test the residue in his handy on-the-spot testing kit (whereupon we learn it’s marijuana).

Cut to nineteen-year-old Douche trying not to look worried.

Commercial break (Seriously, Extra. Snack? Gum as a snack???)

At the end of the show we learn that Narcotics Douche is sent home with a slap on the wrist. What could have been a $5,000 fine, has now been turned into a lesson learned for all of America’s Port viewership.

Overall, the show has merit, though I do not enjoy the narration of Thom Beers. His voice does not convey the proper emotion and drama that Mike Rowe so easily does in Deadliest Catch.

I give it 3.5 stars out of 5.