Doesn't anyone say ST. Valentine's Day anymore?
Usually, no matter how open-minded, a guy would never flip through the evening newspaper while smoking a pipe and then think to himself, "Hurm, Bridget Jones's Diary, I could go for some of that," but, for whatever reason, I recently went through a small spate of chick flicks. I think there's a certain part of my brain that needed to be soaked in emotive frivolity so I could build up a tolerance to it. (It worked and I am now much more insensitive.) Now, I wouldn't call a movie a chick flick just because it doesn't have an explosion in it, but they're pretty easy to spot. Runaway Bride is a chick flick. Any movie featuring Hugh Grant is probably a chick flick. Ditto Meg Ryan, and to a lesser extent, Julia Roberts. Also, any movie where a group of women, young or old, are dancing around the kitchen singing a zippy oldie into spoons is almost certainly a chick flick. Check yourself, Jaime.
While the majority of B grade chick flicks are made for TV, there are equally moronic guy flicks out there which aspire to be barely notable DVD releases. They usually involve an ex-cop or a resourceful everyman who wants to live a placid life of whittling doorknobs on his back porch, but instead finds himself pressed into a situation where he must karate chop or shoot social maladjusts who wear jumpsuits or mirrored sunglasses. In between leaping out of windows and getting lip from spunky, female research scientists, his shirt gets torn to the point where you question whether it is even still worth wearing. Cars and boats are sometimes involved and, unless given a reason not to, they will often explode. Somehow, this is oddly satisfying, the same way that crying must be in movies directed towards women.
I like how you can tell exactly what sort of articles will show up in the gossip columns of newspapers and weekly magazines next Monday. Like, tips on how to survive St. Valentine's Day if you're single or recently heart-broken, including a numbered list of fun activities you can do instead of being in love. A report on how the heart can actually physically break. ("You know, Jasper, they may say she died of a burst ventricle, but I know she died of a broken heart.") A male rant about how it's all just chocolate and obligations. A reminder to not mix your dog with that chocolate. And a whole slew of fruit related terms of endearment (another chick flick!), like how someone can be a peach, or the apple of your eye, the cherry on your sundae, a love coconut, your...orange of affection. And then you're like, "Huh, why isn't a coconut a nut?"
But more importantly, on February 14-16, an IBM supercomputer named Watson is going to be a contestant on Jeopardy!. It'll be playing against Ken "74-Game Winning Streak" Jennings and Brad "Greatest Total Jeopardy! Earnings Ever" Rutter for the fate of humanity. I saw a fifteen question preview of the match and Watson has a very mild, inoffensive computer voice and totally doesn't sound like someone who would subjugate the entire human race if it won, but maybe it was just being cautious and for the actual match Watson will adopt the voice of Sean Connery as portrayed by Darrell Hammond.
While the majority of B grade chick flicks are made for TV, there are equally moronic guy flicks out there which aspire to be barely notable DVD releases. They usually involve an ex-cop or a resourceful everyman who wants to live a placid life of whittling doorknobs on his back porch, but instead finds himself pressed into a situation where he must karate chop or shoot social maladjusts who wear jumpsuits or mirrored sunglasses. In between leaping out of windows and getting lip from spunky, female research scientists, his shirt gets torn to the point where you question whether it is even still worth wearing. Cars and boats are sometimes involved and, unless given a reason not to, they will often explode. Somehow, this is oddly satisfying, the same way that crying must be in movies directed towards women.
I like how you can tell exactly what sort of articles will show up in the gossip columns of newspapers and weekly magazines next Monday. Like, tips on how to survive St. Valentine's Day if you're single or recently heart-broken, including a numbered list of fun activities you can do instead of being in love. A report on how the heart can actually physically break. ("You know, Jasper, they may say she died of a burst ventricle, but I know she died of a broken heart.") A male rant about how it's all just chocolate and obligations. A reminder to not mix your dog with that chocolate. And a whole slew of fruit related terms of endearment (another chick flick!), like how someone can be a peach, or the apple of your eye, the cherry on your sundae, a love coconut, your...orange of affection. And then you're like, "Huh, why isn't a coconut a nut?"
But more importantly, on February 14-16, an IBM supercomputer named Watson is going to be a contestant on Jeopardy!. It'll be playing against Ken "74-Game Winning Streak" Jennings and Brad "Greatest Total Jeopardy! Earnings Ever" Rutter for the fate of humanity. I saw a fifteen question preview of the match and Watson has a very mild, inoffensive computer voice and totally doesn't sound like someone who would subjugate the entire human race if it won, but maybe it was just being cautious and for the actual match Watson will adopt the voice of Sean Connery as portrayed by Darrell Hammond.