Bent it on Becks

On the high traffic area of Hollywood Blvd. near Highland Ave. (with tourist draws like the Kodak Theater and next to the El Capitan Theater and especially Grauman's Chinese), not only are there billboards on top of buildings but also on the area above the storefronts. Coming out of the underground Metro station one's field of view is dominated by whatever billboard is above the stores directly across the street.

Last month, that billboard featured L.A.'s newest sports superstar, David Beckham, hawking Motorola cell phones.
Not only was he on that one, but also on the somewhat smaller billboard closer to the corner:
You can see the same Metro marker in both shots, so you get a sense of how close the two were. Total Beckham overload.

So whether or not the residents of L.A. were genuinely enamored with the famed footballer (who was barely playing), he was considered golden by advertisers wanting to appeal to visitors to Tinseltown.


Then this month, mere days after Becks suffered a serious injury that likely keeps him from playing at all for the rest of the season, the billboards still feature Motorola phones, but with a babes-with-knives theme:

I'm sure they were due to be changed anyway. Coincidental timing, no doubt.

It's not like he was playing enough to get Angelinos pumped up by his prowess on the pitch (even though the press tried to posit the possibility of his presence making sports fans care about soccer, which didn't pan out) that he suddenly became any less powerful as a pitchman for products by being hobbled by spraining his knee.

Still...

Judge not, lest ye--eh, whatever

Earlier this week I was up late and on the computer and saw a link on the Yahoo home page for a column by a so-called health expert who was decrying the harmful effect of the term "whatever" (such as what one says when holding one's thumbs together and extending one's index fingers to form a "w"), noting how it held a tone of dismissal and arrogance that was not a healthy attitude. The negative aspects were broken into paragraphs with identifying headings.

The first heading was (right there on the site): Judgement.

Yep, the British spelling of what we in American English spell as "judgment." (And the writer is American, writing for an American audience.) I'm not saying it's a logical way for us to spell it without the second e, or that it's an uncommon error (because "judge" has the e at that spot), but it's difficult to refrain from being at least a tiny bit judgemental—er, judgmental toward one who has allowed himself to be identified as an "expert" (perhaps not his choice, but I doubt Yahoo held a gun to his head about it) who cannot have someone else proofread his rather obvious assertions before they get posted.

I suppose I think running a spell check isn't all that difficult. Heck, when I left a comment on the piece, the little field in which I typed "judgement" even flagged it as misspelled.

Eh, whatever.

~

That was ridiculously glib. Obvious beyond belief. Not a hint of cleverness in it. (The pollyanna tone of the piece essentially cries out for that reaction. Reviewing the comments left by others, that proved to be the most common response, which undoubtedly allows the writer to consider all of us to be people who desperately need to buy his book.)

It reveals one of my neuroses rather blatantly. I've touched on it before: the way that having a slightly above average familiarity with spelling and grammar and that sort of thing is proving to be of increasingly little importance in contemporary American society. What little my brain has bothered to remember is noticed by others who've made the same mistake with their minds, but not to those who hold sway over what gets noticed by society at large. It's envy of a sort.

This is what the time I have to devote to this hobby allows me to put out for the world to see. There's a reason why I'm not putting myself out there to become one of the risible lot who get tacitly lauded by those who control these avenues of information. I am nothing more than a dilettante and an amateur; I claim nothing more. I make mistakes, certainly. I don't always review my pieces as thoroughly as perhaps I should. While being a small-time operator doesn't justify the mistakes, I more or less believe it does explain them.

And when someone points out a mistake, I rarely make that same one again; I do pay attention enough to improve, even if in tiny ways. I delude myself with the belief that such thoughts somehow justify the way I am.

There is little justifying how I am. That's about the best I can claim to justify myself: I'm not trying to justify myself, so it is, in a roundabout way, the only justification I can possible claim.

(Ooo, that was clever. Eh, now all I need is to write a book and maybe Yahoo will sign me up.)

Morning shots

Why would I put up this picture on the photo site? Click here and find out.

Professing to professionals

The things one gets in the mail. Or in one's mailbox at the office.

Having attended a seminar-type event once several years ago and allowing someone to get a business card, I got on a mailing list. I don't get too many items delivered to my mail slot at the office, and most of what I do get I file in the recycling bin because it really has no application to specifically what I do, but being circumstantially involved in "the industry" they are willing to give me a shot. At least for the first issue of new ventures.

(The specifics of what I actually do are not worth getting into, I assure you.)

Last week I got a glossy magazine with the words "professional" and "management" (and "week") in its title. As I specifically eschew being "management" in any capacity, and I more or less can only be considered "professional" by virtue of refraining from telling co-workers (who desperately deserve it) to go to hell, I concluded the only way the publication applied to me might be that I do participate in the "week."

Nonetheless I did flip through a few pages, finding it filled with the same sort of typical ads for products and services that I've seen in other similar periodicals directed toward the "industry." Same old same old. Lots of smiling people in suits with text extolling the benefits of the product/service. They're not the slickest ads one will ever see, but they seem obviously geared toward the stereotypical professional, with a properly politically correct mixture of gender and race represented. Some effort clearly went into them.

Then I came across the ad on the inside back cover (to the right*), for a document disposal service, touting the importance of knowing what pieces of paper, if not shredded but merely thrown away, could prove a liability later. Certainly something that could be of interest to those in a managerial capacity.

As you can see, the ad features a relatively attractive young woman bending at the waist, holding a stack of papers over a wastebasket, with her mouth slightly open (presumably to indicate confusion). Full color. Prominent in its placement.

The first thought is beyond even mentioning. I'm not suggesting it's a source of pride that the woman's posture elicits a particular association; I'm merely suggesting it's blithely optimistic to think that it was accidental when they were shooting the photo for the ad. However, her blouse is not low-cut or anything overtly provocative in that regard, so one can grant some benefit of the doubt regarding the intent of those who came up with the ad.

Not much doubt, but some.

Further overlooking any sexist overtones by having the person doing the stupid act of improperly disposing of papers be a woman (and blond!), I found myself wondering: Who the hell bends over like that to throw something away? Egad, that is ergonomically atrocious! Bend at the knees, bend at the knees!

Perhaps I expected too much of the advertisers in such a publication.


* In the image, the names have been blurred to protect the... well, not necessarily innocent...

Strolling down memory lane

For those of you who give a hoot about the inane rambling I was doing back in college, you'll be pleased to hear I've finally gotten around to posting my final Another Useless Column (the one written just before graduation) from my days writing for the Long Beach Union. So for those of you who didn't know me during my days at university, you can finally see how that whole series concluded.


And here's a fun drinking game to enhance your enjoyment of said column: Do a shot every time I mention a hackneyed quote or am abjectly sentimental. You'll be unconscious before you reach the end!



~
And if you're wondering if the name of the column had anything to do with the name of this site... you need to do another shot; you are entirely too coherent.