Doug Reviews Breaking Bad

My last post got more attention than I thought it would. I received a lot of feedback through Facebook, email, and even rare comments hereon the actual blog. Many more were supportive than I thought would be, some politely and respectfully disagreed, and some were displeased with my thoughts. I think I was called an apostate, a Jack Mormon, and even someone who was “blinded by Satan’s lies.”

Obviously, after writing something that produces such a broad range of feedback, I should follow up with something equally as passionate and yet completely asinine. That’s why I’m reviewing what I believe to be the greatest television drama of all time: Breaking Bad.

There are those of you out there who haven’t seen BreakingBad. You’ve heard people talking about it, you’ve seen commercials for it, and maybe you’ve even stumbled across an episode and watched for a few minutes. You’re probably thinking, “I don’t know, Doug, isn’t that the show about the guy in underwear who sells drugs or something? I just don’t think I can get into that kind of thing.”

Ugh. You know what? You disgust me. I’ll decide what you are and aren’t into around here. And here is my decision: WATCH BREAKING BAD. Go log on to Netflix and watch seasons 1-4. Soon enough, you’ll be able to catch up on the first 6 episodes of season 5, the final season. I’m being serious. Stop reading this blog and go watch Breaking Bad.

Warning! The rest of this post is only for those who are currently caught up with the exploits of Walter White and Jessie Pinkman. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU ARE NOT CAUGHT UP. SPOILERS BELOW.

Are you gone? Hey, look, get out of here. I’m not kidding.

Finally. Ok, here we go.

There is a famous quote from Nietzsche that says, “Beware,ye who fight dragons, lest ye become one. And remember, when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back.”

I can think of no better explanation for the slow decent into madness and evil Walter White is taking us on. You know Bruce Willis’ new movie, Looper? Imagine a visit from current Walt to season 1 Walt. Would Walt believe it? And which Walt would be more shocked by the state of the other Walt? He’s come a long way from reluctantly cutting the throats of small time drug dealers with a bit of broken clay.

I’ve been trying to put my finger on why the show is so fascinating to me. I think it might be its unique sense of helplessness. Walt is getting worse, and has gradually lost any and all redeeming qualities. We are no longer rooting for a cancer stricken high school teacher taking desperate measures to ensure financial stability for those who survive him in death. No, that Walt is gone and, I think much more true to reality, is not coming back.

 The genius of this show is that we still cheer him on. Vince Gilligan, the brains behind Breaking Bad,has manipulated us like sheep to the point we are now out and out rooting for the villain. Masterful how he brought us here, isn’t it?

Tuco, the crazy, drug addicted local boss, seems now like a fart in the evil wind of Walt’s madness. Even Gus, who I adored as a kindhearted bad guy, seems a forgotten bump in the road to Walt’s insatiable desire to be recognized. And for me, that has to be what this show is about. A dying man’s need to be reckoned with.

Walt, no matter how amazing a problem solver or quick thinker or cunning analyst he and we think he is, will always be the silly old fuddy-duddy science teacher in the eyes of his son, Walt Jr. (or Flynn, depending on favorable circumstances). There is a scene, set so perfectly around the 70’s style kitchen table, when Walt Jr.gushes about Uncle Hank’s heroism. Uncle Hank, in Walt’s eyes (and ours…we only see the world through Walter’s enormous ego) the bumbling, obnoxious, chubby brother in law, has taken Walt’s patriarchal rite. Cut to Walt Sr. seething with a forkful of scrambled eggs.

Every dad wants to be his son’s hero, and things changed when Walt realized he would be perpetually standing naked in the frozen foods sectionof the 7-Eleven. Meanwhile, that moment at the table set in motion what will certainly result in a collision course for both of Walt Jr.’s father figures.

If I could cross pollinate mediums here, I would paraphrase Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight. Walt could’ve died a hero, but now we’re all forced to watch him live long enough to become the villain. And trust me, he is the villain. Redemption won’t come in some sort of glorious and selfless moments for Walt. He will leave a trail of blood in his wake, and Hank (ever the vigilant cop) will come calling.  

Ironic to this whole fathers and sons theory of mine is that while Junior has found a father figure in Uncle Hank, Walt has hypocritically developed a strong father-son bond with Jessie Pinkman. But, as Walt has proved time and time again, relationships take a back seat to his narcissism, or as he puts it, his Empire.

How many people, by the time this show ends, will want Walt dead? The answer is exactly the same people who, when the show began, wanted him to live. But when we start doing the math, how many lives would have been saved if his hadn’t? It is depressing stuff, adding up the body count and determining the cost of a life that, in retrospect, was not worth saving.

My predictions for the show are pretty bleak. I think everyone dies. Well, everybody but two. The whole show is about the bonds (or binds) of family. Jessie, who so needed a father and Walt, who so needed a son. But what if Jessie, a more caring and dedicated father than Walt could ever be, saves toddler Holly from the wreckage that is sure to be the White house, and raises her to the light?

It would, finally, serve as the redemption we desperately need from this show.

Doug Reviews Gay Marriage and Mormons

Disclaimer 1- Most of you know I am a member of the Mormon Church. So, if while reading this, you find references to church practices and policies that don’t quite make sense, I apologize in advance.

Disclaimer 2- My views are definitely not the views of the Mormon Church. I in no way claim to make statements, true or false, on behalf of (or even in true representation of) the church.

On Sunday, we had a combined meeting for the 2^nd and 3^rd hours of the church block (Yeah, that’s right, 3 hour church. Come at me, bro). The purpose was to meet together and listen to presentations from local leaders about the church’s stance toward homosexuality and gay marriage.

Before we go further, there are a couple things I should explain. The first is you should know I am in favor of legalizing same sex marriages. Actually, that’s number 2 on my list of marriage definition options. The number 1 item would be to simply abolish the term “marriage” from the United States government’s control, issue civil partnerships/unions, and turn marriage into a private institution managed by churches as they see fit. Until that day, I am in support of making gay marriage legal.

The second thing you need to know is that the Mormon Church currently does not support the legalization of same sex marriage. I say currently because one of the perks of Mormonism is the belief in modern day prophets and continued revelation. This belief becomes especially helpful nowadays, since guys like Moses never laid out guidance in regards to internet use. Instead, current prophets have the ability to access God’s Will on some of the more modern issues we face.  

Slow down. I don’t want this to become a debate on the validity of Mormonism, I am just laying out the facts of what Mormons believe so you understand why I use the term “currently” to explain the Mormon Church’s stance on the issue at hand. I know all the things you want to say about Mormons. But that’s not here. No matter how false or misguided you think they are, you can’t deny that Mormons exist and have beliefs, right?

Anyway, so, let’s review.

1.       I, a Mormon, support same sex marriage

2.       The Mormon Church does not support same sex marriage.

Now that you know those two important points, you can probably get a sense for my state of mind during the 2 hour meeting on homosexuality. I felt like George Bush at a Portland Farmer’s Market.

The meeting was very thoughtful, well planned, and carefully kind toward those attracted to members of their own sex. We were instructed well on showing love-but-not-loving, trying to support-without-supporting and being tolerant-without-tolerating same sex attraction. 

The first presenter is a counselor and talked about her experiences working with members of the church with same-sex attraction. She talked about facing the pain, sorrow, guilt and loneliness experienced through feeling like a sinner under God’s law while “fighting” the temptations they feel toward members of their same gender.  She painted a pretty bleak picture for these folks, talking about strange words like “recovery” and “rehabilitation” and even “Suicide.”

I say it was strange to hear those words basically because of the feelings I have toward my wife. Sorry, let me explain.  I know the way I feel about her, the love and companionship and friendship we share. Not only do I like being around her, I can’t picture my life without her. If the church were to insist that my feelings toward her were not only wrong but against God’s will, I would not be interested in Recovering from some sort of affliction, or going through any type of Rehab…instead, I would question God’s will and His creation of me.

After the effect those terms had on me, I started paying attention to some of the other words being used. The common way to refer to the topic of discussion was that there are people “struggling with same sex attraction.” At first I didn’t pick up on some of the nuances, but the more I heard it, honestly, the more it impacted me. Let me break it down into two parts:

Struggling With-- To struggle with something means to contend with a task or a problem. For instance, you could say the neighbor who is going through foreclosure is “struggling with his finances.” Meaning, if he made some changes and worked to fix his problems, his finances would not be such a detriment to his success. The point of saying someone is struggling with something is essentially this: there is a problem that must be overcome; a problem that can be fixed or solved.

So when we say someone is struggling with homosexuality, isn't it divisive? Aren't we immediately asserting that there is something inherently wrong with a person that needs a fix we think is fixable simply because we don’t feel the same way as they do?

Flip it around for a minute. Can you imagine someone accusing you of struggling with opposite sex attraction? Can you force yourself to stop being attracted to the opposite sex and start doing the “right” thing and be gay? I doubt any of us who identify as straight even have the slightest idea how offensive and polarizing it is to make such claims.

If you are a staunch Mormon opposed to my views, you might respond with something along the lines of “everyone faces different temptations, this is theirs.” I think that is too unfair to our biological construction.

Adam and Eve were commanded to multiply. So great was this commandment (or perhaps, this intrinsic need to perpetuate the species and continue evolving) that our desire for sexual intercourse is among the strongest and most natural of our many senses. Using the “some people face alcoholism, some people face gambling addictions and some people face homosexuality” defense is as foolish as saying “some people eat fish, some people eat tacos, and some people live under water.”

The point being: you can control what you eat (tacos, chicken) but no matter who tells you what is “right” and “natural,” you simply cannot go stick your head under water and start taking deep breaths. Let’s stop telling our gay friends to dunk their heads and inhale. They’re drowning.

Same-Sex Attraction- The second half of the sentence is more subtle. I’m not sure why there’s this recent turning away from using terms like “gay” or “lesbian”, but I would guess it has something to do with creating specific groups. It is very clever, but also very loving from leaders of the Church whose hearts truly break for those they may see as lost.

If instead of referring to black people as “black” and white people as “white,” and replaced those terms with a scale of skin pigmentation, wouldn’t that take away from people identifying with their own racial groups (and stereotypes)?

Consider this statement about Russell Wilson: “He is a great young rookie quarterback from Wisconsin who shows poise in the pocket, high football IQ and good decision making. He comes from a family where his dad and uncle are both successful lawyers. His mom has bright blond hair, but he has his dad’s darker complexion and hazel eyes. He is smaller and scrawnier than most NFL QB’s, but he makes up for that by studying hours of game film and working on his release to get the same height as QB’s five inches taller than him.”

Do you think differently of Russell Wilson than if I were to simply say he is a black quarterback? Do you immediately picture someone fast and nimble, with less accuracy on the pass but with dangerous foot speed that can get quick first downs?

I do. And it’s because branding him as black causes me to immediately identify who he is. He is black. He is a black man, and will always be a black man. You don’t change your race. Black people don’t go to rehab and come out white. They don’t spend time in central Idaho recovering from their de-blacking.

By using the term “same-sex attraction,” the Church and others are doing essentially the same thing. We are not identifying a person as “gay,” because that could mean they were and always will be gay. Instead, we talk about it as if they are going through a faze where they are confused as to what they are actually attracted to and we can get to work de-gaying them.

Perhaps the argument to this point is “But Doug, people are born black and we know why they are black. We can accurately predict the race of 99.99% of children being born. There is no evidence that people are born gay, and God would not create a gay person.”

My only response to that line of thinking is “Yes there is, and yes He did.” I mean, my little girls are already showing recognition of the differences between boys and girls, and they are seven and three! The 7-year old is a little boy crazy. You want to tell me she is consciously choosing to like boys not girls?

The same holds true the other way, folks. I grew up with someone (I won’t say his name, but we are Facebook friends), and he has been gay since the day I first met him. Do you think I was surprised when he came out after high school? Do you think he held off on making that choice until after graduation? Please.

Another topic brought up in the meeting was the correlation between childhood sexual abuse and homosexuality. Look, I am in no way going to deny that there are certainly deep and long lasting psychological effects on abused children, but it is ridiculous (and sort of morbid) to use abuse as homosexuality’s scapegoat. It is an absurd concept, because it creates an absurd paradox. If being sexually abused as a child causes someone to be gay, then all gay people were sexually abused as children. Since this is not the case, the child abuse theory does not have a case.

So after the first 45-minutes of an hour and a half meeting, we discussed (without resolution) the question, “What is same-sex attraction?”

The second half of the meeting was spent discussing the Mormon Church’s support of programs that encourage traditional definitions of family. By “traditional” I mean the definition of family in America between 1980 and 1995. That is to say, we made no mention of how families are defined in other countries around the world in regards to plural marriage. We also avoided defining families before 1978 when only man and wife of the same race were safe to be married, and we certainly made no mention of plural marriage in America (or in the Church) before the turn of the 20^th Century.  

How quickly history can erase itself if we give it enough of a shove. Only a hundred or so years ago were we Mormons the ones causing national unrest for our perversion of the US definition of marriage. It seems we would have a softer heart toward those going down the same road we traveled so many years ago. We boldly sing the rousing lyrics to “Come, Come Ye Saints” but I guess we do it selfishly, with only our pioneers of old as deserving of the retroactive musical encouragement.

Anyway, we were instructed that the legalization of gay marriage in this country would eventually lead to the church no longer being able to perform marriages, because the government would step in and say if we didn't allow gay marriage in our temples, we couldn't do marriage, period.

While I doubt that would actually happen, so what if it did? Did you know this is the case in many countries around the world? Does a government recognized temple marriage make the marriage more meaningful? A majority of Mormons are Republicans anyway; doesn't this step take us a little further from government meddling in our lives?

Spare me the outrage of “but Doug, my tax dollars would be going toward a government that makes normal something I view as an abomination!” Look, if you can find me a group of people who are happy with 100% of the government’s use of tax dollars, I will concede this point to you. Until then, get down from the high horse.

The last thing I will say about our meeting is that it ended with our Stake President giving some final thoughts. His were the best and most thoughtful words of the day. His message was the only one I can really take from the meeting and feel good about, and that is “Love One Another.” Regardless of beliefs, sexuality or social class, love one another.

He didn't have all the answers. Hopefully, someday he will. I subscribe to a church that believes that God is yet to reveal many great and important things pertaining to our existence here on Earth. My hope is that in the near future, that revelation will come to help provide guidance to this crazy, divisive and hurtful topic.

Mormons talk a lot about eternal families and eternal truths. I hope we all remember that we still know practically nothing about any eternal truths. And someday, when those truths are revealed, I hope we have the courage to shake off our old prejudices and accept the further knowledge we receive.

One last thing. We Mormons hold the concept of free will pretty sacred. We believe that part of our plan coming to Earth was more than having someone set the rules for us and force us to obey. Instead, we believe our purpose here allows for us all to take into consideration the guidelines given to us from on high, and make our own choices, right or wrong, about following those instructions. I support gay marriage not just because I despise the idea of withholding rights from others. It’s deeper than that. I support gay marriage because I believe nothing but anger, hate and pain come from forcing others to act based on my personal beliefs.  

Doug Reviews Refs

Who is mad? I'm not going to rehash what happened last night in Seattle. If you don't know about the suspect officiating by the time you get to this blog, you probably haven't made it to this blog. You also probably build energy efficient fire places to sell to the Gentiles.

But I'm serious, who, really, is mad about this event?

The Packers? Maybe some of them, but I suspect most of them are just happy for the distraction, so they don't have to account for giving up 8 SACKS! The Packer offensive line feels like Gary Conduit on September 12, 2001.

ESPN? Yeah right. How much does viewership, listenership, Twittermanship, website readership, etc. go up after a fiasco like last night? This is "The Decision" all over again. ESPN gets to spend increased time bad mouthing their own products while charging millions in advertising revenue.

The Seahawks? Do you think the Seahawks are really feeling bad about this win? Bad enough to forfeit the victory? No.

The fans? We football fanatics love something to talk about. Last night's game was pretty much a yawn fest. And now, we have something to discuss and dissect and shake our heads about. We get to all play expert in our social/work circles, talking about officiating and strikes and unions and America. Yeah, we live for controversy like this.

The league? Here's my response to all the "we need to stop watching until the refs come back" rhetoric: hahahahahahahHahahahahahahabbbBhBhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahabahahahahahahahahaaha!

The NFL is not at all bothered that everyone is talking about their league. The Steve Youngs of the world can go on tirades about how the NFL is falling apart, and he can do so unfettered. The owners will continue to cash those checks, or bury pots of gold, or whatever it is rich white men do to increase their bank account totals.

The replacement refs? How many interviews, tours, television appearances, exclusives, and book deals will come from this experiment? I say at least double digits. These guys are famous! And in America, we don't mess around with fame.

And finally...

The real refs? If you were on strike, hoping to get paid, hoping to get benefits, full time status and more money, isn't last night a gift from football Jesus? You now know, with no additional negotiating tactics or lawyers or statements, the tide has shifted in your favor.

So I repeat, who is mad?

Doug Previews The Challenge

You know those people in the gym when you drive past it on your way to work? You’ve seen them; they’re the same ones who are also in there on your drive home. Oh, and just to clear up any confusion, they don’t leave and come back just to mess with your mind. They’re always just…there.

You may not realize it, but you can also come across these people in real life. You can usually recognize them from their unnecessarily tight clothes, frequent glances toward the mirror and the jugs of mystery liquid they carry with them for awkward, slurpy swigs in the middle of conversations.

Still confused about who I am referring to? Stop a random stranger and engage in him in a discussion. Does he refuse to remember your name, instead calling you “Guy?” Is he making intense eye contact and pulling his lips back in an expression not really a smile, and not quite a snarl? Has he mentioned his glutes?

I always wondered what these people were training for. They get themselves into such great shape and it becomes their obsession. It consumes them. For me, I’ve always sort of felt like Jerry Seinfeld put it best when he said:

“In modern society, you really don’t have to be physically strong to do anything. The only reason that you’re getting in shape is so you can get through the workout. So we’re working out, so that we’ll be in shape, for when we have to do our exercises.”

In my opinion, if you are strong enough to carry your end of the neighbors couch down the stairs and out to the truck, you are in good enough shape. Of course, when the zombie apocalypse has us all running from flesh eating monsters, yeah, the gym crowd will probably last a bit longer (at least until the world runs out of hair product).

(Sidenote: If you have ever posted on Facebook information about your workout, your run times, your diet, a challenge to the rest of us, a before and after picture, or a clever ad for whatever juice or shake or cream or program you want the rest of us to buy, you are dangerously close to the edge of douchebaggery.)

Anyway, here’s the thing: Me and Jerry Seinfeld are wrong. These folks are training for something. They are preparing for the biggest job interview of their lives. Ladies and Gentlemen, these are the Reality Show Recruits!

I think we all agree that reality show contestants are the bottom feeders of our societal barrel. It’s not that they contribute nothing to the world, and act as some sort of neutral entity; they are actively working to destroy civilization as we know it. Simply “being on TV” is not a real job. Yet in 21^st century America, we have made it a much sought after profession.

Imagine meeting one of these people in a social setting.

Me: “So, what do you do for a living?”

Tony from (fill in the blank): “Oh, I’m on television. How about you?”

Me: “Whoa, back up! You’re on TV? Awesome! Are you an actor, do you host a show, do you do the news…?

Tony: “No, none of those things.”

Me: “Okay, cool. So what do you do on TV?”

Tony: “Oh I just go on the TV and just sort of talk to my friends and argue with people and shoot some pool. Once in a while I’ll try to get laid.”

Me: “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. Sorry for the mix-up. I know what most people do as part of living their lives. I meant what do you do to make money?”

Tony: “I just told you, Guy. I am on TV trying to get babes and working on my glutes! Now stop talking to me, I’m gaining weight just smelling the Lucky Charms you ate for breakfast.”

Me: “Sorry to bother you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go slam my head repeatedly in my car door.”

Maybe the most amazing thing about this subset of human culture is the broad number of possibilities for these people. The Gymers in your town are working to prepare themselves for a chance at a better job, the same way the rest of try to work hard and challenge ourselves at work in hopes of getting a raise or a promotion (And yes, I am making Gymer a new word. I pronounce it ‘Jimmer’ just to remind everyone of the failed messiah, Jimmer Freddette).

Just like in life, there is a hierarchy that exists among Gymers. For instance, a prime time gig on The Bachelorette is much more prestigious than a mere audition for American Idol. And being chosen as “America’s Next Top Model” is much less of an honor than being chosen for a legacy role in a second Survivor go ‘round.

But ultimately, there is the top of the mountain. The Pinnacle. The big leagues for which Gymers spend countless hours blasting their lats. I am talking, of course, about MTV’s The Challenge.

First of all, to even get a sniff of being on The Challenge, contestants have to have previously proven that they are drunker, sloppier, more messed up, more offended, more racist, more gaycist, more prone to bursts of anger/tears, sluttier, less ethical, and quicker to fist fight than 99.9999999% of the human population. Yeah, that was 7 nines after the decimal. These folks represent one ten-millionth of mankind. This is a rare breed.

I love The Challenge. I love it as a microcosm of the universe. The show takes a wide, liberal acceptance of all comers. However, it does not apologize that no matter what characters make good TV, only the meatiest pill-popping psychopaths emerge victorious. MTV doesn’t care if you are a hermaphroditic man-lady in a long term relationship with three chimps and a salamander. Be whatever you want as long as you let them take you and 17 other minor criminals to a remote island, drop you off in the heart of a centered out volcano with a year’s supply of vodka, an Under Armor shirt with your name on it, and a T-Mobile cell phone.

The Challenge disregards sanity. The model seems to be let these people get drunk and pass their STD’s back and forth one night, then wake them up the next morning and batter each other senseless with contraptions invented by the Catholic church for 12^th century torture purposes.  How can you not watch? (BTW- How bad is the smell in one of those mini mansions they film the show in? Is there even a way to quantify it?)

This is just my preview. I can’t wait for tonight’s premiere episode. I may have to make reviewing the previous night’s The Challenge episode a regular feature of this blog.

I encourage you to watch. Sure, it will take most of your soul with you. The depths of depravity go beyond some run-of-the-mill horror and gore fest.

You know the old “It’s like staring at an accident, you can’t look away” cliché? Imagine that while you are staring at the accident, the dying victims settle a fist fight by stripping off their clothes, drinking themselves semi-comatose then clumsily having sex with each other.

This is the essence of MTV’s The Challenge.  

Doug Reviews Showers

I love my kids. I love my wife. I have a great life in every way possible. But I’m not going to lie, the best part of my day, as a parent, is my morning shower. My shower is getting longer and longer. I spend so much time in there my wife is starting to get suspicious. I don’t blame her. I’m doing it all in there.

I won’t apologize, I’m trying to figure out more activities I can take on while showering.  I already soap, shampoo, shave, and brush my teeth. I know what some of you think I should add, but you can stop that thinking right there. The mere existence of a drain does not justify that type of behavior.  

Don’t judge me, let me explain. I have a wife, two daughters, and a newborn son. At any given moment during the day, at least one of those individuals is constantly trying to tell me about some asinine event from their day. And while the stories they are telling me are always horrible and boring, I do everything I can to make them feel like the things they are saying are not only insightful, but really important to me for my existence as a human being.  The shower is my own personal Cheers and I’m Norm. It’s the place I get to go, all by myself, and be me. For at least a brief reprieve, I’m alone with my thoughts and my increasingly disappointing physique.  

And when I get into that shower? Elysium! I like to brush my teeth first. It is a good way to mindlessly perform a simple task while allowing the hot water to slowly bring me to life on early morning. I’ll brush for a good 6 minutes. From there I go into a pretty typical shower routine.

Normally, I would leave it at that, but since I fancy myself an expert in top notch personal hygiene, I am going to do some of you hobos a favor and teach you how to properly clean your body:

Shampoo- Guys, you’ve got to do this every day. You can’t just rub a thin plastic coating on your hair and call it clean. Go buy a decent shampoo that will get in there and wash the dirt and grime and styling glue out of your head. Your hair will thank you, and you can thank me. Ladies…I don’t have any advice for you here, I bet you look good washing your hair in the shower…go on girl.

Conditioner- I only have a half inch’s worth of hair on my head, so I’ll use conditioner twice a week. Put it in, and let it sit for about two minutes. This is important: Don’t fill the time doing other shower activities, just enjoy the hot water on your body.

Soap- Walk into your bathroom right now and grab all of your body wash. Place it into a small grocery bag and throw it out of your car next time you are on the freeway. Now go buy a BAR of soap like a real man. You need a bar. Trust me.

Now, take the bar and a washcloth and start scrubbing. Really scrub! If it doesn’t sort of sting, you might want to do an informal survey of the people around you. They will confirm the sad truth: you stink. Scrub every crevice. Yes, even there! Scrub man; get the pores in your pores. Ladies…mmmm, yeah, keep on showering.

Soap 2- Now that you are soaped and rinsed; it’s time for round 2. Quick, turn your faucet to ice cold. Time to close those pores. Is it freezing? Did you make a girly, gasping sound? Good, now grab your bar of soap and scrub it up again. Rinse off and you’re there.

Okay, you are done. If you are a shower-shaver, you should do the shaving in between Soap 1 and Soap 2. Remember, it’s always a good idea to blow dry your, ahem…private parts (just make sure your 3-year-old daughter doesn’t walk into the bathroom while you have one leg propped on the sink and the blow dryer inverted. Also, don’t tell your wife what you use her hair dryer for). Once dry, remember to apply the baby powder liberally to the same region.

Viola! You are clean, dry, and all day fresh. Don’t forget the anti-perspirant (deodorant is like pouring cheap cologne in a bowl of your own sweat, stirring it up and spraying it on your clean body).

Now take a deep breath, exhale, yank up your underwear and open the door. Let the girls hang out with you while you get ready. You’ve been alone nearly 15 minutes, and you are due to catch up on some really detailed stories about the lady who visited the school and did a presentation about balloon animals and some of the great jokes she tells. It’s the best part of the day!

Doug Reviews Bullies

Bullying has become marketing gold. Write about, do a special about, or post a video about bullying and man you got it made in the shade. Exploitation at its finest.

Typically, if I were writing this for more than a handful of people, I would qualify my statement with something like, “I know bullying is a big issue in America and is affecting a lot of lives and I want to be sensitive to that and blah blah blah.”

But screw it; I’m not saying that because, really, I don’t believe it. What I do believe is that kids are just getting pussier and pussier. Meanwhile, we have begun to increasingly validate tattle-tells, drama queens, and narcissists, which only adds to the severity of the bullying.

It seems like the growing theory is that if shows like Glee run enough anti-bully messages, we will finally take a stand and put a stop to the number of douchebag teenagers tormenting those different from them. I assume they often do this as their own form of a defense mechanism against what is likely at least one crappy parent.  But it’s not going to happen, because as long as there are crappy parents out there, bullies will always exist. So I wish shows like X-Factor and Glee would stop trying to capitalize off of buzzwords like “bullying.”

I know, you’re probably thinking it’s easy for me, Mr. Cool himself, Mr. Good Looking Charmer, the life of the party and everybody’s boon companion, to talk as if bullying is no big deal. But before you hang up on me, let me tell you a story.

I attended 7^th, 8^th and 9^th grade at Irving Junior High School in Pocatello Idaho.

As a fresh faced 7^th grader, I was feeling pretty stylish one day wearing my green and blue button up silk shirt and some tight black AC Slater jeans. I looked good and felt good as I sat one morning in Angie Dorman’s Geography class.

As she regaled us with stories of schools in the ghetto and their version of Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”, I got what I like to call “The Panic Alarm.” I’m sure you’ve experienced The Panic Alarm as well. It’s the worst of all feelings. It’s that feeling you get when you know, without a doubt, you only have approximately 22-27 steps in you before you crap your pants.

Looking up, I’m certain Dorman saw the terror in my face as she motioned that I could be excused. I rushed up two flights of stairs to the boy’s bathroom, carefully counting my steps. When the count got high and I couldn’t remember if I was at 23 or 32, I knew I couldn’t risk it anymore and had to perform a sort of flying, pants-less leap onto the toilet in the first stall.

I don’t want to get gross here, but let’s just say my innocent little seventh grade butt clearly enacted his vengeance upon that poor toilet. Hippies have been known to protest smaller acts of violence than what happened in the stall that day.

Stay with me, I promise this story is about bullies. Well, not bullies… Bully. Because what I didn’t tell you, and didn’t tell my parents, and didn’t tell my teachers, and didn’t tell anybody, is what happened next. In fact, half of the people I ever told this story to ended-up dying in a tragic train crash (I will always miss Adrian Thomas).

Because what I didn’t want to tell anyone was, in those upstairs boy’s bathrooms, the stall doors hardly closed, and the walls around the stalls were only about four feet high.  In my rush to reach the toilet, I didn’t make closing the door a priority, and I was left sort of holding it closed with my left foot.

Soon after I entered the stall, a rather large 9^th grader wandered in. I know him. I still know his name and can picture his face. I can picture it staring at me with that mocking grin and those probably-abused-at-home eyes.

He saw me in the stall and propped his elbows up on the right side wall, where he casually leaned over the stall to watch intently as I did that most private thing.

At first, I laughed nervously and asked him what he was doing. He responded by calling me a little faggot and telling me he was just there to make sure I knew what I was doing. I stayed quiet as he told me to hurry up and that he was going to time me.  As he barked through his counting, grinning all the way, he never took his eyes off of me. I didn’t feel so cool in my green and blue silk shirt anymore.

Finally I finished and began folding up toilet paper for the delicate art of clean up as he laughed and told me how gross I was.

While I washed my hands, he told me I better not go tattle or he’d kick my ass. He walked out, leaving me alone and shaky in my sweat drenched and fancy silk shirt.

Are there side effects from that experience? Sure. I check stall doors pretty closely nowadays, and for years I lifted my feet up against the door whenever I heard someone else enter a public restroom. And no, I never wore those pants or that shirt again. To me, they smelled like a mix of diarrhea and shame.

But am I a victim of some horrible crime? No. I am just another age old example of one kid being picked on by another kid. Did my bully have self-confidence problems? I think so. Did he have a crappy father? Yes. Does he probably have a small penis? Probably.  But after school specials disguised as primetime entertainment aren’t changing him, they are just making his victims feel more like victims.

A Glee special would not make more people aware of this stupid moment from 20 years ago, a moment I had such a hard time typing out just now. Instead, Glee creates an even more sympathetic and helpless fan base, wallowing in our self-pity and tears. And who knows, isn’t it possible all the hype around bullying is simply giving bullies better ideas?

All I know is this: Glee and others like it sure do get to charge a lot of money for advertisers to show commercials during their very special episodes.  

Doug Reviews Commercials

I know I said I would review So You Think You Can Dance, but nobody told me there would be a second straight night of La Voz (The Voice)!

I’m not going to rehash last night’s show, nor will I speculate on what Cee Lo dis to get rid of his cat and bring in a creepy pink bird.

Instead, I will review some of the commercials during The Voice:

Wendy’s- I like the confidence from the big wigs at Wendy’s. I wish I was in the room during the marketing meeting when someone piped up and said, “Healthy foods and staying fit are all the rage in fast food restaurants. Why should we do what everyone else is doing? I say we take the owner’s daughter and our iconic namesake, cake her in makeup and let her waddle through the store describing our biggest, meatiest burger. Everyone’s fighting against obesity…I say we embrace it!”

GEICO- As a reminder, GEICO is an acronym that stands for Government Employee Insurance Company. Could there be a better unintentionally hilarious correlation between the U.S. Government and a dimwitted caveman and a wide-eyed lizard?

But I won’t be too hard on GEICO because, you know…Flo.

Every Commercial Advertising a Phone or Tablet- Every time I see a commercial bragging that their phone or tablet is amazingly similar to every other phone or tablet on the market, it reminds me of comedian Louis CK. Check this out, you’re welcome.

Peyton Manning- I am a Manning fan. He is, for me, the prototypical NFL quarterback, and among the top 3 to ever play the position. I love his commercials only slightly less. Whether he is chanting, “Cut! That! Meat!” at the butcher, fairy-ing around with Deion Sanders, or stuffing his big frame inside a Buick Hybrid to show us a couple of features, I love the honesty of Peyton Manning. You can tell that Manning has never (and clearly will never) consider himself cool by any definition. He is dorky in every way. That level of self-awareness is so rare and makes him a compelling athlete and a phenomenal celebrity endorsement…”But I’ll be honest, I like this Tapenade.”

Hyundai Red-Head- Even though I’ve seen the commercial a bunch of times, I still can’t help hoping there’s a twist at the end where the Hyundai salesman  clubs her over the head and hides the body in the trunk of one of the showroom cars.

To finish, I will now post the English translation to the lyrics of “La Bamba”:

In order to dance the Bamba, In order to dance the Bamba

A little humor is needed, A little humor for me and for you

Faster and faster

Faster and faster

I'll be for you, I'll be for you

I'm not a sailor

I'm not a sailor

I'm captain

I'm captain

I'm captain

Doug Reviews The Voice

It’s time for The Voice! Even though The Voice is America’s 3^rd favorite talent show on America’s 4^th favorite network, I feel the voice is far superior to American Idol, X Factor or America’s Got Talent. In case you have never seen the show, the premise of The Voice is that there are millions of people who want to be famous.

The twist on this show is there are famous judges who sit with their back to the karaoke contestants and listen to them sing. Then, if the contestants are good enough (or, in Cee Lo Green’s case, if they sound young and female), the celebrities push a button indicating they want to add the performer to their team of singers that will compete to win the contest. I don’t want to spend too much time explaining it all to you here; it’s pretty complicated and scientific.

To be fair, the blind audition does a lot to create a competition actually based on talent, and the dynamic between the coaches is compelling. The animosity between Christina and Adam, the flirting between Adam and Blake, the sort of “getting away with a fart” feel I get from Cee Lo…the coaches themselves make for interesting TV.   

By the way, did you know Christina Aguilara is one of the key creators of The Voice? This information, while not too surprising, I guess, is really fascinating because of the parallels that exist between The Voice and Christina’s career as a diva.

With The Voice, she took a concept that was already working for American Idol, copied it, and simply tweaked it by adding a higher class of musical talent. Yet when presented to the public, her success is still not as great as the success of the product she is emulating.

Isn't this the exact same thing that happened with her singing career? Brittany Spears was happily doing the “slutty young white girl singing racy pop songs” thing and having massive success doing it. Christina comes along with clearly a stronger voice than Brittany’s, sluttier outfits, and songs that sound identical to each other, and yet Christina will always be the runner up to Queen Brittany. Makes me feel bad for her.

The good news is, she is definitely hanging in there with the cleav-…wait, there’s a better way to word this. She’s definitely hanging out there.

Anyway, the competition begins with the usual format. You know, 45-minute mind numbing biographies about the contestants (narrated by Carson Daly), followed by 12-15 actual seconds of listening to them destroy a classic song.

Can we please request these human interest stories go away? We get it, there are misunderstood artists living in tents because the economy sucks, and they’re really sad. It just gets hard for me to hear these singers whine about how they had to quit their 18 hour a week job to “focus on their music.”

You want a human interest piece about someone trying to cope with having their dreams taken from them? Interview any parent.

The singers on The Voice are all pretty amazing. I like that there is no “let’s all point and laugh at the talentless and delusional loser who might be mildly handicapped” segment like you get with the other shows of the same ilk. With The Voice, it’s much more straightforward. Some get through, some get cut.

The person you have to feel awful for is the first contestant to not get selected (this season, the sacrificial lamb’s name is Garrett). What an awful and lonely moment; hitting your final note and looking up to find four cold celebrity chair-backs. Oh, and because of the mini biography, we also know Garrett’s dad is dead. So there’s the poor kid, standing up there like the un-flushed turd in the office bathroom, being told in front of millions of people that he’s good not great. But it’s worse, because the turd has no dad.

Tomorrow night: So You Think You Can Dance? And maybe Shipping Wars.

Welcome Post

Welcome to my new blog. I am calling it “Doug Reviews Things” because it is my blog, there is a big internet out there, and screw you I’ll call it whatever the hell I want. I am using the word “things” because I want to leave it broad as to what I will be reviewing.

At first, what you’ll find here will be a superfluous dissection of the new fall television lineup and current attractions at the local theater. But I want to keep my options open.

The things I’ve written in the past have always been nice and superficial. Surface level commentary peppered with jokes has served me well as a strong defense mechanism against feelings. However, if you are a returning reader from the days of TwoBrothersRant, the Idaho State Journal, or even TwoBrothersSports, what you might find this time is the occasional broaching of serious topics, with actual honesty and insight into some of my insecurities. Aren’t I sweet and vulnerable? I will now give you four minutes and thirty two seconds to go to YouTube and watch the video for REM’s “Everybody Hurts.”

Are you back? Did you really think I was going all Kurt from “Glee?” Get real. 

If you hang around long enough, though, you might be around on the day when I open up about serious topics, like my support for gay marriage in the face of maintaining my active stance in favor of being a Mormon. Oh, by the way, some of that might come out, too. Has a High Councilman’s talk in church ever been reviewed by a blogger? Probably, but there’s always room for more.

I will update throughout the week. Tomorrow night is the season premiere of “The Voice.” Here is my promise to you: If I can pull myself away from Christina Aguilera’s nauseating cleavage long enough to type a sentence, I will post here again tomorrow night.

Also up this week: The Bachelor Pad, X Factor, and So You Think You Can Dance

Other Reviews Coming Soon: Lawless- I won’t say much here, but I will tell you that men suffering from an erection lasting more than four hours are either experiencing a Viagra side effect, or they recently saw Jessica Chastain wander through Tom Hardy’s house.

Hit and Run- Dax Shepherd and Bradley Cooper? What could go wrong?

(Oh, and I'm trying to be with it, so if you don't click the links, some of the post will be lost on you. Don't be lame)