In Which I Mourn Not Only The Future Of Television Advertising, But A Grizzly And A Really Good Place For Dinner (We Are Nothing If Not Eclectic)

I feel as if it's been a while since I've had a good Brain Cleanse, although I have to admit that I've not been shy about just flinging forth most of my Cerebral Bother at Whomever Is In Its Line Of Fire. My Inner Curmudgeon is pretty much Out, brought to the fore by job stress, omnipresent political ads, clueless dog owner neighbors who, since they cannot control the one yappy dog they already own, have naturellement purchased another, and an ongoing feud with my hair.

But, since it would be Selfish Of Me not to keep you informed, dear readers, let's see what's left for me to nudge out of my grey matter's nooks and crannies.

One continual source of irritation and confusion to me is the commercials for Cialis. You know the ones: a married couple of a certain age are performing a rather mundane household chore like laundry or painting or meal prep. Suddenly, they happen to catch each other's gaze or touch each other's hand. They smile a bit knowingly. The narrator intones: "An everyday moment can turn romantic at a moment's notice." Then, the confines of the house move away magically and they are transformed into an outdoor scene like a beach, forest, or waterfall's edge. The couple are sitting together, caressing. The narrator continues, "With Cialis, you can be ready anytime the moment is right." Okay, how many of you, really, equate outdoors with sex? What was the thought process here, and who did the marketing research for this campaign, The United States Department of the Interior? The U.S. National Parks Service? Smokey the Bear? I don't know about you, but making love at the beach or in the woods presents a set of issues that...well, are not optimal (sand, pine needles, dirt, leaves, etc. Ouch. ). And exactly what kind of exhibitionists are these Middle-Agers anyway that they can't just Do It in the house? Weirdos.

I'll be brief with this one and try not to rant overmuch here about the First Christmas Commercial appearing on OCTOBER 8TH. Which, for those of you scoring at home, is before even HALLOWEEN. The winner this year is KMart, who was hawking their layaway program. (And no, they do not get a pass because technically "layaway" is, by nature, an early Christmas shopping program. There were obvious Christmassy things in the commercial. Verboten!) To say that I was/still am outraged is to vastly understate it. That opened the floodgates, and we have since been deluged with "Holiday Season" ads from eleventy thousand retailers. I received this morning with my Sunday Plain Dealer the Toys *R* Us Big Christmas Toy Book. Pardon me while I projectile vomit all over everything in protest.

On a sad note, my Cleveland Metroparks Zoo recently announced the death of one of its grizzly bears. We had two male grizzlies at our zoo, a father and son, and the one who died, the parent, had been ill for a while. He had already lived a long 35 years, reaching well beyond the uppermost end of the average life cycle of a grizzly in captivity. I mention this story mainly because of the names of these two grizzlies, which I think are absolutely perfect. Please pause a moment with me to mourn the loss of Lester and to wish the best for his son, Warren.

Also sad for me, but in a different way is the loss of Bar Symon, owned by Cleveland's own Iron Chef, Michael Symon. Rick and I liked this nearby restaurant where I could get an incredible marrow bone appetizer, perfect with an ice cold vodka martini. We didn't have to drive into downtown Cleveland or wait forever for a table to get Cheffy Food. Now it's closed--it was in a dying strip mall in a so-so location--and we're back to the Dinner Conundrum every Friday night. (Quick story: Once, a particularly cute waiter at Bar Symon was dancing to the music between table-waiting for most of our dinner stay. He was really getting into it, busting some serious moves. When we left, I sought him out and tucked a couple bucks into his apron. "Thanks for making my dinner so enjoyable," I told him. He laughed and said, "Hey, you're welcome! I'll be here all week!")

And so will I. Please show your appreciation in the usual way. Thank you. Thank you very much. ;-)

Why Is Television Making My Life So Hard? This Isn't Rocket Science, People! It's T.V.

Not so long ago, I admitted my sad, pathetic albeit somewhat passive Television Addiction and, although it has not waned, it has become a little bit more...discerning. I have broken up with a vast number of television shows that have cavalierly betrayed me, and I have dismissed innumerable Food Network chefs who have sullied their toques by stooping to the Meals In Minutes fad or worse, the shamefest of the PTA Cookbook/Internet recipe. (If I wanted to just slop together something from canned soup, Minute Rice, grocery store chicken, and frozen peas, what do I need to watch a chef for?)

But I digress.

With all the "choices"--and I use the term oh-so-very loosely here--that we have as Television Viewers, one would think that the various Purveyors Of Television would get their act together and be a little less flippant about how they present their offerings. I've already wailed and gnashed my teeth about the unreliability of the television schedule/Local TV Listings; this time I want to bitch about and lament the misleading names of the various cable networks themselves. For instance:

A&E: Initially, this network was termed "Arts and Entertainment." How far it has fallen! Now the A and E apparently stand for "Apprehension and Enforcement." Gone are the biographical films of famous authors and artists; their lineup now consists of shows like Dog the Bounty Hunter, Criminal Minds, and Steven Seagal: Lawman. When did this network change its mission? And if you go to their website, you can't even find the words "Arts & Entertainment" anywhere. They know, at least. They know. Hey, A&E! Relaunch! Put it out there and call it what it is. Maybe C&P--Crime and Punishment Network. But...what would they do with Hoarders?

Lifetime: Okay, here's my issue. Lifetime calls itself "Television for Women." Its website's mission statement contains a lot of posturing about how it is committed to celebrating, supporting, and entertaining women. But, holy crap, have you ever surfed around and hit on that station and glimpsed a Lifetime Movie? Invariably, that movie shows a woman in prison, a woman being beaten, a woman being raped, a woman crying, or a woman held hostage in a home invasion or something. Yikes. Now, I think I can safely say that, as a woman, I am part of Lifetime's target demographic. I don't think, however, that I feel supported, celebrated, or entertained by any of that. If it weren't for Project Runway, I'd be calling my cable provider about putting a block on old Lifetime. It sounds more like television for sickos.

Mtv: Allow me to show my advanced age here, and those of you with grey hairs are with me already. The "M" in Mtv stands for MUSIC. Why is it, then, that there is absolutely no music played on this network? When this station first aired, it was an all-music video venue. It was, quite simply, MUSIC + TELEVISION. As in, you could watch your music. What happened to my Mtv? Now it's a cesspool of stupid, inane, low-wattage reality shows with such illuminating titles as Sixteen and Pregnant, Sloppy Ho's, and Disaster Date. Time for the "M" to be changed to an "R"; it can stand for Rejects, Ridiculous, Remedial...oh, any number of far more descriptively accurate adjectives.

TLC: The Learning Channel has a real identity crisis. Like A&E, you're hard-pressed to find what TLC stands for on their website, which is as much a hodge-podge of...stuff as their network is. What, exactly, are we supposed to learn? Well, gosh! All kinds of junk! We can learn about hoarders on TLC, too, along with What Not To Wear, cake decorators, strange sex, cops, toddlers in beauty pageants, tattoo artists, and "little people"--whether they make chocolate or not. But, just so you don't think that TLC isn't truly about learning, they also include a small widget on their sidebar called "How Stuff Works"! Hey, thanks, TLC! Learning is fun! TLC needs to get real with itself. It's not about learning at all. It's all about rubbernecking. You know it and I know it. People tune in to watch Jon and Kate crash and burn, to watch the overly-tattooed people look freakish, to watch the obliviously scary mothers doll up their toddlers a la Jon Benet Ramsey and hawk them like prostitutes down the runway. It's the Voyeur Channel. The Trainwreck Network. (Help me here, Readers--I know there's a good one out there....)

Plenty of people tell me that they just don't watch television anymore. What with the endless commercials, availability of Hulu and other online outlets for their favorite shows, and the DVDs of entire series, they just don't bother. Still more tell me that they simply aren't interested; they do other things with their time. Not me. After a long day of Teen Wrangling at The Rock, I enjoy blobbing out in my big chair with my blankie, letting myself be entertained, even if it's somewhat mindlessly. I have to be able to shut it all down--all of it--and some TV time lets me do that. And if I get to look at Hugh Laurie or laugh at the same episode of The Office that I've seen a million times or appreciate the good writing of a new show that's funny and smart (for a change!) while forgetting a particularly tough day at school, then I'm good. Real good with that.

Saturday: Thinking About Trucks, Television, And All The News That's Fit To Fabricate

So I'm watching Judge Judy, one of my guilty pleasures. (Don't start with me. I already know I watch entirely too much television as it is, and I cannot be tasked with watching only quality programming all the time. I've already cut out most Food Network shows, having broken up with almost everyone over there. But that's another post entirely.)

Anyway. Over the course of several months of watching Judge Judy, I've noticed something curious. There seems to be a growing trend of young single women who drive trucks. Not semis or eighteen-wheelers, like for their jobs; I'm talking personal vehicles. Like a pickup truck. I cannot begin to tell you how many times a young woman will begin her testimony--as a defendant or a plaintiff--by mentioning her truck. Either it was damaged or someone owes her money for one or it was supposed to be a gift or whatever. And let me tell you--this truck ownership crosses racial and socioeconomic lines as well. These young women are black, white, Hispanic, Asian, and mixed races. They are seemingly well-to-do as well as appearing down on their luck. The Judge Judy show is filmed in New York, but her cases are from all over the country.

I am honestly befuddled by this apparent movement of Young Woman Truck Ownership. Why is this occurring? Why is the pickup truck so attractive to these young ladies? Do they have things they need to haul? Do they have a lot of friends who move? Do they not want a back seat, thereby eliminating the need to provide rides for lots of people at once? Are they sending a certain message, and if so, what is it? Do young men find women who drive trucks "hot?"

I find it all very intriguing. Perhaps the common denominator is that young women who drive trucks are either very litigious or very unlucky; failing that, they are hooked up with people who go to court an awful lot.

On a related note--marginally, at best--there is a television commercial that I find highly irritating lately. It is for a new laundry product by Purex called the 3-in-1 laundry sheet. In the ad, a woman with terrible-looking red hair says that this product "makes her life ONE THOUSAND TIMES BETTER."

Holy crap. Seriously? How miserable is this chick's life? And how much of it revolves around laundry? You know what? When Jared told me about using Control + F, it made my life easier, but mainly when I'm trying to search through hundreds of entries in my resident archives of the Brian Williams Tie Report , and not 1000 times. And again, only when I'm writing silly little blurbs...about ties. Someone needs to get some perspective, Redhaired Laundry Slave, and it isn't me.

Finally, there's this, just for...well, just for. (Mainly, so you all feel good about your families being ONE THOUSAND TIMES more normal than mine.)

Scene opens with Nance in bathroom drying her hair. Jared enters casually.

Jared: Hey. This just in. Dad says he doesn't like you.

Nance: Yeah? So what?

Jared: Mom. Hey. I don't make the news. I just report it.

Jared saunters out. Nance continues drying hair. Rick is in living room feeding logs into fireplace, innocent to all which has taken place.

Finis.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I've become so disillusioned with so many television shows over the past year or two. So many favorites have let me down, and hard. It's difficult when you've become invested in a character and he gets killed off, or a plotline suddenly veers off unexpectedly and "jumps the shark." Or even a nightly lineup gets shuffled around, and there goes "Destination Television!" Sometimes, the network simply cancels a show right out from under you. It's bitter, so bitter. But this time, I have to do all the dirty work myself. I have to break up with someone who I used to enjoy spending time with. I liked her down-to-earth chatter and her no-nonsense but still good food. I'd come home from school, change into my comfies, grab something to drink, and plop on the couch and spend a half hour with down-home Butter Goddess, Paula Deen.

But not anymore.

Now Miss Paula has joined the ranks of Giada DeLaurentiis and Sandra Lee as my Armageddon Brigade of Kitchen Idiots. I cannot stand to watch any of them, even to sit and constantly criticize, snipe, harp at, and malign them as they "cook."

Here, therefore, is my open Dear Paula Breakup Letter to Miss Deen. Sigh.

Dear Miss Paula,

Believe me, it pains me deeply to have to write you this letter. For years, I watched you faithfully and enjoyed you immensely. How fearlessly you tossed stick after stick of butter into every recipe! How your Holy Trinity remained Butter, Mayonnaise, and Canned Creamed Soups despite our nation's Obesity Epidemic. I defended your folksy southern pronunciations: "spatchler" for spatula; "awl" for oil. I even overlooked your use of "cheese" as a verb, as in "Y'all can wait for the last fifteen minutes to cheese your casserole", meaning "to top with cheese." I simply grinned indulgently when you constantly looked obliviously into the camera as you massaged oil into a cut of pork and said rapturously, "Y'all know how I like to rub my meat." I simply ignored your use of the term "tin foil" even though foil has not been made of tin for...well, EVER.

But when your popularity began to soar in the past couple of years, something happened. You began to market your Countrified Schtick Personality. And magnify it. Suddenly, your accent became more pronounced. Down-Home Expressions peppered your commentary like Cajun seasoning. You got another show, Paula's Party, and on it you acted like a Saturday Night Live actor doing an extreme caricature of you. On crack. And Spanish Fly.

And then there was the crap you started making on your regular show.

I think one recipe says it all: Cheesy Ham and Banana Casserole. Good Heavens. The title alone is gut-wrenching, but the ingredient list (deli ham, bananas, bacon, cheese, potato chips, and, for that little je ne sais quois, nutmeg) is enough to set anyone off on a vegan and Luddite lifestyle. Urk.
At the risk of losing readers--and my own gastric wellbeing--here is a picture:
What were you thinking? Were you hoping for instant inclusion in The Gallery of Regrettable Food?

In any case, it's over between us. I can't have any self-respect and go on watching you, and I can't have any love for food and go on watching what you do to it. Goodbye, Paula Deen, goodbye.

Moving on to Anne Burrell,

Nance

Time To Purge: Of Fireflies, Shoes, Politics, And, Of Course, Brian Williams

I'm so full of it lately.

Not that--I'm always full of that; didn't you see that adverb "lately?" The "it" I'm referring to now is random junk that I keep giving thought time to in spite of my best efforts not to. So it's time for another one of my purgative posts wherein I set free these pesky little Thought Nerfuls that keep tickling the grooves and twists of my grey matter. Now they're yours.

In no particular order:

~#~Man, if pointed-toe shoes go out of style soon, I am in a world of hurt. Oh, I know the round-toe babydoll look sneaked in there briefly, but I let it pass. I knew it wasn't For Real.

~#~I think I'm watching waaaay too much Food Network. I've noticed that when I'm prepping and cooking, I sometimes keep an internal narrative going inside my head: Okay, now when chopping up the red peppers, it's best to chop skin side down so that the knife goes more easily through the vegetable. And, add the cheese last when making pesto so that it doesn't process into paste. I don't do it all the time, but often enough that I'm definitely starting to become concerned.

~#~Hey, I'm here to tell you: It is the humidity.

~#~I've noticed something this summer. Not so many lightning bugs. At least that's what we NE Ohioans call them. You may call them "fireflies" in your location, but whatever you call them, I've seen precious few of them here. I used to have a running contest with the little kid who lived next door as to who would see the first lightning bug of the summer. They were always the harbinger of the season. This summer, there have been very few, and as with most things, I blame the Republicans. Which brings me to...

~#~The fact that I can pretty much boil down every environmental, economical, and societal ill to a Republican failing. Actually, I shouldn't say "Republican" without qualifying it by saying "The Angel of Death's Administration and Its Policies" which basically, for me, typifies what Republicans are. It's like the father in My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding who can trace every single benefit of civilization back to the Greeks. My son, a diehard liberal Democrat who says that only Dennis Kucinich truly stands for everything he (my son, Jared) believes in, said to me once, "Mom, there are some good Republicans." I said, "I doubt it." But I digress. My point is, there are probably fewer lightning bugs due to the outrageously poor environmental policies of the current administration which favor big polluters. See what I mean?

~#~Which brings me to this very useful visual aid, sent to me by my dear VBF, Leanne of Maryland. Not only are her (infrequent) emails often humorous, as I mentioned in an earlier post, but sometimes they contain valuable political info. Here is a wonderful site where you can view a comprehensive but easy to read chart that shows you every presidential candidate's current position on all the big issues from Abortion, Capital Punishment and the Iraq war to No Child Left Behind, Universal Health Care and Same-Sex Marriage. Thank you, Leanne.

~#~All Dept. of Nance readers are well-acquainted with my fascination for Brian Williams. I do, however, watch other news programs and have noticed something. See what you think:

I find these three men facially similar. Especially Chris Hansen, of Dateline's Catch a Predator fame, and dear Brian. It's almost a...Newsman Triptych of sorts! And don't you think that Stone Phillips, with very little major makeup, could play Ronald Reagan in a biopic of same? Take a long look now, and think about it.

~#~And while I'm playing Separated at Birth, here's another good one.

That's William Schneider of CNN and Dr. Bunsen Honeydew of Muppet Labs. I told you that I was full of it. And believe it or not, there's something I'm forgetting, but it'll just have to wait. In the meantime, set your own Nerfuls free in the comments. I've got some extra room now.

Last Year at The Dept. of Nance: The Alaskan Adventure Part VII

The Nance Show

It is almost time for the cable bill to come, and that means it is almost time for Rick to sigh heavily and say to Jared, Sam, and me, "This is ridiculous. This much just to watch television?!" Naturally, that is our cue to defend our Pet Channels so that the Budgetary Axe of Death does not fall:

Jared: Life without ESPN, ESPN2, or FSNOhio is not a life I want to live. Are you really prepared to have that on your conscience?
Me: I have to have the Food Network. We've gone over this a hundred times.
Sam: What's this now?

Shortly after that, I also remind him that the cable bill also represents our internet connection. He mumbles something from behind his laptop and proceeds to ignore us for the rest of the evening. He forgets that the majority of his surfing and eventual stopping takes place on cable-provided programming, too. His television watching is just not nearly as interactive as mine is; therefore, it is quieter and not as noticeable.

I am, by nature, a chatty individual, and the fact that the television is supposedly a one-way entertainment device doesn't deter me in the least. I'm quite free with my comments, advice, and dialogue along with the program on the tv. As a matter of fact, Jared thinks I should have my own show something along the lines of Mystery Science Theater 3000, only with a cooking format.

Are you familiar with MST3K? It was a silly show hosted by a human and three robots who sat and watched really awful movies and kept up a running commentary--usually witty and critical--during the films. Sometimes they'd do alternative dialogue, too.

Well, instead of watching bad films, I'd watch the cooking shows of Food Network "stars" that I really dislike. I'd criticize and generally eviscerate them as they cooked, then do my own recipes after their segments. It wouldn't be hard. I already do it at home. There's nothing I like better after a hard day at school than coming home, changing out of my Mrs. D. clothes, kicking back on the couch with Jared and watching Everyday Italian with Giada de Laurentiis, who I simply cannot tolerate as a cook. She is, in a word, terrible. I unwind from my day by ripping her apart, from the fact that she cannot accurately estimate nor measure to her constant use of the word "perfect" and description of every single herb as "lemony." She is also the only Italian I know who refuses to cook generously or even enough. Her guests must have to stop at McDonald's on the way home from dinner at her house.

Anyway, after I got done blasting Giada (or Emeril or Tyler or whoever was on the hotseat that day--but never Paula Deen, NEVER MISS PAULA!) I would then cook a better and Nancer version of whatever dish they had completely screwed up.

Every so often, I might mix it up and have a segment on of the Food Network people I like. Like Alton Brown or Paula Deen or maybe one or two segments that I can tolerate of Michael Chiarello--when he's not saying the word "caramelize" every three seconds and demanding that we see him as a raging heterosexual. But I'd have to see how it goes.

And I'd never have a guest on. Because they might want to talk, too. And I'm just not up for that.

Last year on Dept of Nance: Guilty Pleasures