DAD: Do you think they'll play all Elite Eight NCAA basketball games in one day this weekend?

ME: No. They'll spread them over two days as usual.

DAD: I suppose they want us to be able to watch them all?

ME: Yes, but your viewing pleasure is a secondary concern. The NCAA is primarily interested in maximizing the broadcast window so that they can increase advertising revenue. Sports broadcasting decisions are all about the money.

DAD: You mean to tell me that if they broadcast a meteor falling to earth, the money caused that?

ME: No. That's totally different. No one is paying for meteor strikes.

DAD: So broadcasting decisions are not all about money.

ME (raising voice): No! I mean, meteors are not sports. Those are Two! Different! Subjects!

DAD: Now you're yelling. That's my fault. You don't take it well when I point out when you are wrong.

...

I don't wonder why some children abuse their parents; I wonder why more don't.

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Mom shares her New York Times digital subscription with me, so I assumed that was why the algorithm thought I could use an ad linking me to this:

While my appreciation for spandex is well documented, what struck me about this particular advertisement was the obvious modesty-preserving panty liner the model was using. That crotch bulge seems so familiar....

Oh, right. It's how Dan Jurgens draws male superhero crotches.

Superman #123 limited edition "Glow-in-the-Dark" variant, May 1997

Maybe that ad was targeting me after all.

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Look, I love Benson Boone's "Mystical Magical" as much as the next guy, but after hearing it in every commercial break since ESPN's coverage of the U.S. Open used it for intro and outro bumpers in August through this week's NFL coverage, maybe there is such a thing as overexposure.

I'm not alone in thinking that. There is, Google assure me, a pretty sizable backlash to the rapid, overt commercialization of Mr. Boone's music. Selling out is fine in America; greed, not so much. The singer and his team are aware of this, and his music video for "Mr. Electric Blue" makes a good-natured joke of it by removing any hint of the hypocrisy that pollutes the modern zeitgeist. (Yes, despite being an old fogey who doesn't really care for music, I do watch music videos on YouTube as the Internet Gods intended. The old-school media's widely reported recent death of Music Television has been greatly exaggerated; music videos are not dead, linear television is.)

It's kind of a funny thing to say that you could hear any piece of music "too much." Despite the tendency of human beings (at least American human being) to resent the familiar, there are a bunch of songs I just never get tired of hearing. Back in the day when I was a waiter at Chili's, the chain played tapes of licensed music over and over until the entire wait staff would gather around the back office cassette player and argue over which tapes management was NOT allowed to play again that day. (No tapes were ever destroyed, but some were occasionally hidden. I hope they still haven't been found.) Despite the repetition, there was one song on those tapes that I could never get sick of. I bet you'd never guess that it was "Silly Love Songs" by Wings. Live and let die, indeed.

Several Paul McCartney songs, both with and without co-writer John Lennon, are high on my list of endless listening, which probably demonstrates that I have a high tolerance for what McCartney is interested in writing: the poppiest of pop music. Fizzy, friendly, sugary pop music. Overproduced sounds that have a good beat and you can dance to, lyrics that really shouldn't be thought about too hard. That's my jam. Music crafted to please the widest possible music-illiterate crowd, "Moonbeam ice cream" sort of stuff, like Dua Lipa, Katie Perry, Madonna, Michael Jackson, or, say, Olivia Newton John.

And please crowds they do. Why else would Madison Avenue adapt catchy tunes for advertising in Apple product ads or the memorable '90s Philips campaign that used the Beatles "Getting Better" (somehow always fading out just before the "it can't get no worse" refrain) or this year's sanitized-for-Christmas "Greased Lightnin'" (with zero creaming girls) or Target's 2025 commercials of their animated Get-Ready Yeti dancing to "Mystical Magical."

Okay, fine. I'm not sick of moonbeam ice cream just yet. 'Cause once you know, once you know...

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Almost a whole week in, and so far this Wriphe.com Football and Superman month is a little light on both.

Why is that, you ask? I have to admit that's partly because right now I'm pretty sure everything in the world sucks. And if the NFL's 2025 "You Better Believe" Kickoff Campaign bandwagon "Ride the Float" commercial is any indication, I'm right.

The NFL won't let me embed their shitty AI-generated commercial here, but here's a screencap and the top rated comments on the video so far:

youtu.be/N7auEg6XUOI

That's what 2025 has driven me to: reading (and agreeing with) the comments on YouTube. Sigh. To paraphrase Billy Joel, "we'll all go down together."

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20/2452. Reality Bites: A Hannah Swensen Mystery (2025)
The installments written by star Julia Sweeney have solid mysteries (although it's pretty clear that a lot of plot-tightening is happening in the editing suite), but they tend to go a little heavy on melodramatic characterization, especially for the mother, whose style of comic relief grows closer to a Jerry Lewis performance in each installment.

21/2453. Hero at Large (1980)
John Ritter plays a "real life" super hero in this very gentle comedy. It's so gentle, in fact, I wondered who the target audience is. There's not enough action (and too much drama) for kids, and its story is too thin to keep the attention of adults. The premise has been done better as both parody and satire in comics, television, and movies in the decades before and since. Frankly, it's just not very deep or very funny, and that means it's just not very good.

As a general rule, I don't always include shots of incidental Coca-Cola advertising, but these are pretty prominent in the opening sequence, so here you go.

22/2454. Hamlet 2 (2008)
See? This is how you poke society in the eye with a sharp stick and make them laugh at the same time. It's just so absurd in all the best ways, like Mel Brooks' The Producers, that I was often blindsided by the more subtle punchlines. Would watch again.

23/2455. Hamlet (1948)
Lawrence Olivier's adaptation abridges the original to get the time down, I guess. This sort of thing is done all the time when adapting novels, but Shakespeare? It's pretty, and the climax is staged well, but I really missed Rosencratz and Guildenstern, and, frankly, it seemed to me that there just wasn't enough death in this incarnation of Denmark.

24/2456. The One and Only Dick Gregory (2021)
A documentary biography of the controversial comedian who dared to call out society for its hypocrisy. He strikes me as too often sanctimonious, but maybe he earned that by being right (and angry and bitter) about so many injustices so many of us tolerate and, unintentionally or otherwise, perpetuate.

More to come.

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Captain D's is currently running an ad campaign that should be considered a war crime. When my television starts chanting "Fish D'Lish," I have to drive for the remote's mute button before the repetition drives me mad (or madder than I already am, anyway).

Once upon a time, I heard Stephen Colbert suggest that the best way to kill an earworm is to sing a shorter earworm that "cannot loop." His example was "by Mennen" as sung at the end of Speed Stick commercials. John Oliver suggested the "Ricola" yodel, and that's the one that usually works for me. I've been singing "Ricola" a lot lately.

On a marginally related note, I've recently been playing with the Talkback accessibility option on my phone. Theoretically, I could use it to control my phone hands free, but I've been using it to read Wikipedia articles out loud while I walk the dogs. Today I listened to the story of the Second Peloponnesian War. I found it amusing to hear my phone insist on calling the Persian king "Xerxes Eye."

That led me to wonder what Talkback's narrator would call this website, which has a made-up name I brainstormed on a napkin in my first apartment in Athens. Everyone seems to get it wrong on the first try. To my surprise, the phone handled "wriphe" perfectly. (For the record, it's pronounced like "rife," which was Merriam-Webster.com's Word of the Day on Sunday, and I'm going to have to steal their explanation to be another tagline for this site: "Rife Wriphe usually describes things that are very common and often—though not always—bad or unpleasant.")

So of course you know what I tested Talkback on next. Hint: It rhymes with "dish o'fish." What can I say? Advertising works.

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118/2429. The Losers (2010)
Sure, it's a big, dumb action movie, but it's a big, dumb action movie based on a DC comic book, and the influence shows maybe a little too much. Actually, it puts me in mind of some video games I've played in the past decade. "Pop Will Eat Itself," said the band in the 1980s, and it remains a true statement. Meh.

119/2430. From Darkness to Light (2024)
This is a so-so documentary with little insight into its subjects, but that's okay because the whole thing is really an excuse to rescue large parts of Jerry Lewis's legendary long-lost The Day The Clown Cried for curious cinephiles who seem reluctant to accept that it was just a bad film that became an unfortunate casualty of wrongheaded (and possibly malicious) decisions in the movie business. As a bit of a movie nut, I loved it.

120/2431. Dear Santa (2024)
Speaking of wrongheaded decisions in the movie business, Jack Black stars as a demon pretending to be Santa Claus. The core of the film is what you might expect from a 90s black comedy aimed at mallrat teens over Christmas break, but it is badly underbaked. Looking at the dates of release and production, it seems to me that Paramount just gave up on this without trying to make it good and dumped its barely cobbled-together carcass into the wasteland of back-catalog streaming services filler. Too bad. There's a lot of talent involved, and with the right script doctor and editor (and more money than Paramount obviously wanted to spend), maybe this could have become a cult classic.

121/2432. Uptown Saturday Night (1974)
Speaking of cult classics, Sidney Poitier and Bill Cosby hunt down a lottery ticket unwittingly stolen by gangsters in a blaxploitation film which was not particularly interested in exploitation. It's not great cinema, but it's not trying to be. It just wants to be a good excuse to see something lighthearted at the movies with friends, and on that level, it works.

Truth in Advertising Disclaimer: The setting in this screencap is neither uptown, Saturday, nor night.

And that's a wrap on movies watched in 2024. If you're keeping score at home, 121 is the fewest new-to-me movies I've seen in a year since 2016. I'm not entirely sure why the number is so low, but I did have a bit of a hard time with depression this year and watched far more familiar-to-me movies than usual, so that certainly cut into my movie watching time. The complete lack of must-see cinema in theaters couldn't have helped. Better luck next year, Hollywood!

More to come.

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Look, Wendy's, I really don't need your marketing calling people liars because they like homemade "saucy nuggs." If you want to sell low-cost, high-profit processed frozen chicken slurry pressed into Play-Doh molds and smothered in oil, fine. You have the same right as everyone else who has access to a Sysco account. Just stop casting aspersions on what I may or may not do with chicken in my own kitchen, thank you very much.

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There's a new yard sign that has been popping up lately around my neighborhood that has a picture of a particular ex-president alongside the words "Let's Go Felon." I don't understand it.

If it's a pro-Trump sign (and it is not an official campaign sign, I checked), why does it advertise that he's a felon? Being a felon is not something that most people would choose to celebrate. Is it supposed to be ironic, by which I mean is it a political statement that the State of New York is an unjust government (with a corrupted jury pool) that has no right to find someone guilty of the crime of falsifying business records? If that's the case, I'd expect it to have sarcastic quotes, you "genius" Trump supporters, you.

On the other hand, if it's an anti-Trump sign, why would any Never Trumper want a picture of that guy in their front yard? I certainly don't. (I see quite enough of him on the evening news, thank you.) Would they post a sign advertising any other felon?

I should mention that I first saw this sign in the yard of a home that also has a family of bigfoot signs, which is making it harder for me to interpret the intention here. Do they love imaginary creatures? Lost causes? Fairy tales? Conspiracy theories? I just can't tell. I can't even knock on the door and ask; they have a gated driveway. If there are actually any bigfeet, they're not actually welcome.

Maybe this is just another thing that will have to remain in the very large bucket of things I cannot understand.

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My father called this evening to tell me that he received an unsolicited group text in which recipients were invited to visit a URL where they can fill out documentation to apply to be paid $600 a month for having a Purel hand sanitizer advertising decal attached to their cars. He thought it might be an opportunity worth pursuing. Hey, free money!

Hopefully, dear reader, I don't have to tell you this is a scam. The FTC has been warning about it for years. If you don't trust the government, you can get the same warnings from both the BBB and AARP. Yet, obviously, the scam still works or the scammers wouldn't still be running it.

Now, my father is, in theory, an intelligent man. (In fact, he gets really angry if anyone dares to question that intelligence. I hate to admit it, but I am certainly a chip off that block.) So how is it he could fail to recognize all the red flags? It's not like he needs the money. (Seriously. I do his taxes.) I think he just wants something for nothing.

I mention all this not to denigrate my father. (That's just a bonus.) I mention it because I think it's the key to understanding why so many people, like my father, support that orange-faced fellow who accepted his party's nomination for president today. They don't care about the red flags like, say, his previous, well-documented attempt to subvert a federal election for his own personal benefit; they just want to believe him when he tells them he's going to give them something they want for free, like lower taxes and fewer colored people. While I wish those people could see the fallacy in where they've chosen to put their trust, I have to concede there's nothing you can say to someone to make them stop wanting the things they want.

I want free money, too. I guess I'm just jealous no one is offering to pay to put decals on my Jeep.

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