What's the emoticon for schadenfreude?*

Because I am so darn ecstatic over the Murdoch empire debacle, words are no longer enough. But that's hardly the only Schadenfreude-inducing story in the news these days. There's the J-Lo/Marc Anthony divorce announcement, just months after this smoldering display. The dismal box results of the Sarah Palin bio-pic, The Undefeated. The dumping and dissing of Hugh Heffner by a woman young enough to be his great grand daughter. The news that one of Charlie Sheen's Goddesses just took the first bus back to Olympus. Then there's the debt ceiling debacle. Mostly schaden, (sorrow), but hard to overlook the freude (joy) of watching congress get what it deserves, the lowest approval rates EVAH! (Take that, Eric Cantor, you obstructionist, egomaniacal little twit). All of which leads me to conclude that schadenfreude needs to be added to the emoticon vocabulary ASAP. I've provided a few design suggestions below.

;-]

[:>)

(:^’

:-[

{:–D

(:–/

(:-*



* Schadenfreude (sorrow/joy) is a German word for taking pleasure in the pain/suffering/misery/abject humiliation of others.

Check out wikipedia's emoticon chart. At the risk of sounding politically incorrect to the max, I have to say the East Asian ones are totally inscrutable.

Crosspollination

Like this blog? Then maybe you'll like my other blog. And maybe you won't think I'm such a slacker for not posting often enough...

Sexy Beasts

Finally, Florida outlaws bestiality. Some 1.3 million alligators are breathing a sigh of relief. You can choke the chicken, but you can't poke the chicken. And you better not horse around with your pony, or do it doggy style with Rover. Going to the cat house? Stay away from any actual cats - no pussy for you. Got bitten by a trouser mouse? it better not be an actual rodent - yes, gerbils count. And if you think you can still lie with your lizard, truss your turtle, fondle your ferret, spank your monkey, charm your snake, get jiggy with your iguana, pork your potbellied pig or go all the way with your gold fish, fuggedaboudit. Control your animal instincts, because bestiality is officially illegal in the Sunshine State.

Iggstrapolations

I confess. I watch American Idol. I know it's cheesy. I know it's terminally uncool. I know the TV audience consists of grandmas and 14 year old girls. I know it might be rigged, and people vote multiple times. I suspect that Taylor Hicks is probably the king of the cruise ship circuit by now, and while Kelly Clarkson is a great singer, I'm not sure the music world needed someone whose idea of a good lyric is "You got a piece of me and honestly my life would suck without you." I know all these things. And yet, I watch. And thus it was that on results night last week, I saw this. Ladies and gentlemen, Iggy Pop.

Just in case you are Iggnorant of Mr. Pop's contribution to contemporary music, let me fill you in. He is best known as frontman for his band The Stooges, which disbanded due to Iggy's heroin problem. Nerdy types who like to play spot-the-influence think of him as a godfather of punk, and he is credited with inventing the reckless sport of stage-diving. Pop and David Bowie have been friends and occasional collaborators since the Ziggy Stardust days – China Girl was actually co-written by Iggy. (The two met in the Thin White Duke's bisexual period but whether Bowie and Iggy ever did each other, I cannot say. Iggy – big sigh of relief, ladies – says he is straight). Anyway, for reasons even Google was unable to reveal, Iggy has performed shirtless since at least 1977. Fortunately, he has managed to keep his pants on the whole time.

The Idol performance was deeply disturbing, visually and vocally. He looked like a well-preserved mummy back from a trip to the hair salon for highlights and a Brazilian blow out. My friend Maura and her sister are convinced Mr. Pop has COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) and had an oxygen machine waiting offstage. I kept flashing on the killer doll from that awesome camp classic, Trilogy of Terror.

It was especially entertaining to watch the pint-sized provocateur get right up against the judges' table and do a pelvic thrust in Jennifer Lopez' face – a juxtaposition reminiscent of one of those Medieval Death and the Maiden paintings. Poor J-Lo, who has probably never heard the first few bars of Lust for Life without immediately changing the station, looked as though she wanted to scream for her body guard, or maybe her wimpy husband Mark Anthony (although I suspect Iggy could kick his ass).

The whole thing was, as Maura put it, out of context – waaaaay out of context. But why was the sight of that dehydrated little dude bouncing all over the stage so unnerving? After all, I've seen Lady Gaga perform with a dozen half-naked gay guys in thongs and dog collars. Context does have something to do with it. We think of American Idol as a family show – those aforementioned grandmas and tween age girls, the occasional references to Jesus taking the wheel, the home town crowd rooting for their local hero or heroine (down, Iggy, that's heroine with an e on the end). And then there's the greater context of contemporary pop, which is all about dancing and taut young bodies in revealing outfits. The Iggnoble one is not taut. He is well-exercized and veiny. And probably waxed. Hardly a wild child - more like an old dude.

So why does he persist in singing topless? Call me overly analytical, but I have actually pondered this in detail:

1. He believes the beef jerky look is part of his brand.

2. He can't afford a stylist. Or maybe even a shirt.

3. He is completely deluded and thinks he's still got it, like a male version of Madonna.

4. He has a Peter Pan complex and refuses to grow up. Ever.

5. He's still on heroin and suffers from the sweats if he waits to long between fixes.

6. He's proud of being the only remaining non-tattoed rock star on the planet and wants to flaunt his virgin epidermis.

7. He'll do anything for the money - including TV commercials in the UK and providing the singing voice for one of the babies in the Rugrats movie.

8. He's ACTING. And the guy has worked as an actor before, including cameos in Sid and Nancy and the color of money, and an appearance on the Crypt Keeper. (No, he did not play the C.K.)

9. Irony, baby. Icky's semi-nudity is an in-your-face rebuke of the air-brushed, over-choreographed, auto-tuned slickness that infects so much of today's popular music.

I think I'm going to settle for the last explanation. At least it allows Iggy to keep his dignity - if not his shirt.


Those were the days, my friend...

F*@k Fest

The English language is all fucked up, and I don't mean metaphorically. Sometimes it seems like the f-word is fast closing in on "the" as the most commonly used word in the American vernacular. (Can't speak for the Brits - they fuck but they also shag, which makes me suspect that British English is a bit less, uh, frisky).

It's been decades since the late George Carlin's seminal routine about the seven dirty words. We used to find them shocking – now we just don't give a fuck.The Entertainment Industry blithely uses obscenities to signify grit and relevance. Thanks to hip hop and rap, motherf*@king is now the high school adjective of choice, as in "That motherf*@ker has a motherf*@king third period pass." Just look at all the foul mouths among your friends and family. Now, multiply that by legions of families, nationwide.

In my case, the desensitization began when I started working in advertising. Other than high school and the military, I can't think of a more expletive-friendly environment than the average creative department. I learned this my first week on the job, when I had lunch with my new colleagues. The humor was definitely ribald - I remember the hard-boiled female producer was making smegma jokes over her pizza. Everybody swore – a lot – with fuck a frequent root word. I was shocked, but it didn't take long for me to shed my propriety. After a few months, I made sex jokes without blushing and used fuck reflexively. I still do – In fact, I joined a face book page entitled "Intelligent, classy, well-educated women who say fuck a lot." I say fuck a lot. And I am a woman. Two out of five ain't bad.

When used literally, the word retains its graphic shock appeal. To this day, I would never use it in the dictionary sense, as in "I think she's f*@king him". It would make me feel like an entitled Manhattan artiste from a third rate Woody Allen movie. I prefer to default to something genteel, like "sleeping with", or goofy, like "boink" or" schtup," or maybe tongue-in-cheek technical, like "exchanging bodily fluids". I'll jokingly say fuck you to all my dearest friends, but I'd never say it to anyone if I really meant it. Foul language makes for ineffective rage. You appear out of control. The swearing is a distraction and an invitation to dismiss you as a hysteric. Far better to contain yourself and keep it cold, direct, polite and lacerating.

Still, there's no getting around it. Used with finesse and a sense of timing, an f- bomb can be f-ing funny. But there's a fine line between funny and lazy, as in this recap of 2010 from the website Jezebel. You heard the expression "phone it in'? The writer fucked it in. She wrote a lame piece and used the f-word to try and liven it up, but bad meat, even if you drown it in hot sauce, is still bad meat. Another example of uninspired writing, this anti-prop 8 video has been making the rounds online. Now I H8 prop 8. I find it appalling that we could pass a law that actually takes people's rights away. Still, expressing a critical civil rights issue as an angry fuckathon is a tad reductive. I get that the spot is preaching to the converted, not trying to sway the opposition, but a foul-mouthed 6 year old makes a lousy poster child for gay parenting. If Annette Benning and Julianne Moore were that child's moms, they'd send him to his room without dessert.

So this is the part where I'm supposed to tell you about the empty water jug in my kitchen. The one folks throw a quarter in every time they swear, until the day when the whole family is 100% fuck-free – like the Shakers, only metaphorically. But there is no such coin receptacle in my kitchen. Why? Because I'd rather give up chocolate than profanity. No doubt chocolate is in better taste. But profanity's less fattening - and you can't beat the mouthfeel. I need fuck and its derivatives to express another f-word, frustration. I'm not just tired: I'm fucking exhausted. I'm not just angry: I'm fucking furious. And after three rounds of running around the house looking for my keys, it's only natural to wonder where the fuck they are.

Quickies

Get your etymology on!
Cole Porter, where art thou?
Shagadelic

The Many Faces of Julian Assange

While Interpol was casting its net to capture Julian Assange, my daughter and I have been casting the inevitable biopic. Her idea. She's a first year law student, I've been jamming on a multi-media ad campaign for a hospital in Palm Springs, and we both needed a break.

The leakage to date has been embarrassing and, in terms of American foreign policy's ability to get with the times, disheartening, but I confess that what I find most fascinating about this entire affair is the Wiki-Leaker-In-Chief. A rumpled and slightly sleazy international man of mystery whose motives remain debatable, despite his passionate claim that all he wants to do is get the truth out.

Is he a whistle blower fueled by righteous indignation? An anti-American trouble maker? A pioneer of 21st century journalism? An overgrown preschooler looking to see just how many of his classmate's block towers he can knock down before the teacher puts him in time out? A bonafide anarchist in the Emma Goldman mode? An egomaniac who never had enough attention as a child and has been overcompensating ever since? An internationalist looking to clear the air so we can bypass the bullshit and get cracking on our global problems? A sexual deviant who forced himself on two Swedish women? The victim of a CIA smear campaign to brand him as some kind of perv? (Re: the sexual deviant stuff, there is a lot of chatter on non-mainstream news sites about the actual "assault" being much ado about a broken condom, aka Quicky Leaks. I researched the broken condom thing and all the references I could find are alternative, which, depending on your perspective, makes them either more suspect or more believable).

Assange is obviously the role of a lifetime, with major Oscar potential given the right director. (Oliver Stone, this does not mean you). Anyway, without further ado and in no particular order, I give you our shortlist:



Kevin Spacey. He has the chops, and the round, doughy face. He's also 51 to Julian's 39, which I think makes him too old. Daughter disagrees.



Peter Sarsgaard. Good physical resemblance, proven acting talent, inde-film street cred, which means he may have too much taste to take the part if it's directed by, say, Ron Howard.



Christian Bale. Daughter thinks he's too good looking, despite his obvious nose job. (We have very different taste in men). I thought he was remarkable in The Machinist and believe his acting ability trumps the total lack of physical resemblance.



Edward Norton. Not an Assange lookalike, but bottle of bleach would help. Norton knows how to disappear into a role. Assange knows how to disappear, period. At least until now.



Cillian Murphy. Sorry, dear daughter. Too young, too creepy and too feminine. Not that he wasn't terrific in Red Eye.



Sam Rockwell. Can't say. My daughter likes him but I haven't seen enough of his work. Didn't go to The Green Mile because I am allergic to movies about magical black people who help clueless white protagonists find their authentic selves.



Leonardo DeCaprio. Yes, I know, he's too good looking, but it's amazing what you can do with a little nose putty. He's only three years younger than Assange and he's played morally ambiguous before – he rocked in Catch Me If You Can. I could see him getting the part if Spielberg directs.



Kevin McKidd. Blondeness, check. Pock marks, check. Hotness, check. Hotness is probably secondary here, but he made one smoldering centurion in the miniseries Rome, which, by the way, makes a great holiday gift for the amateur historian in your life.



Michael C. Hall. Creative suggestion on daughter's part, and if you look at Stephen in Six Feet Under vs. Dexter, you can see how Hall could pull off the duality of the Assange character.



Paul Bettany. This was actually my husband's idea. You may remember Mr. Jennifer Connelly from A Beautiful Mind. He is also a Beautiful Man in an aging British school boy kind of way. He was decent in the Darwin biopic Creation though the film itself was a bit dull.



Eric Bana. Boring as a romantic lead, but as an inter-galactic villain, he was the best thing about the otherwise totally lame Star Trek 11 (Yes, that's an eleven, not a roman numeral two - no wonder it was totally lame).

Well, that's the short list for you. Next step is finding a director. Is it better to go with a foreign candidate who won't take the whole affair too personally? Or would a foreigner have too much of an anti-American perspective? I'm ambivalent – pretty much how I feel about Assange in general. Our phantom production company is open to suggestions.

Copy Comments

I have a husband and two kids who never listen to me and a dog who won't come when I call. I can't tell any of them anything without being accused of lecturing. (The husband gets surly, the kids talk over me, the dog farts). So when I went on Linked In and saw that a budding copywriter was seeking writing advice, I couldn't resist the opportunity to pontificate. In fact, this post started as a wall comment, but I got so carried away, I figured I'd paste it in to the old blog.

Cadence:
As anyone who's ever experienced a frisson of delight reading Shakespeare knows, good writing is auditory. Even if your middle English is rusty, even putting aside all that timeless insight into the human condition, even sans access to the Cliff notes, the bard's words sound beautiful. Granted, a product website isn't exactly Hamlet, but cadence and rhythm still count. Lets say we were listing the ingredients for a minimalistic picnic. Should it be...
Wine, bread and cheese.
Bread, cheese and wine.
Cheese, wine and bread.
Wine, cheese and bread.
I won't list all the possible permutations, but you get the idea. There is no objectively right answer or wrong answer, unless you are a writer. Maybe you think cheese is an ugly word on which to end a sentence (unless you're on the Laughing Cow account and want to end on cheese for emphasis). Perhaps you prefer to end the sentence with wine, for its promise of intoxication and romance. You might want to start the list with bread because that's the most basic element of the meal. Not that you need to overthink it: a natural writer will just go on instinct and pick what sounds good – to her. If you can't hear the rhythm in your head, read it out loud. When you start to trip over your tongue, you need to do some more fine tuning.

Repetition
Try to avoid repeating the same word in one paragraph. Lets say you're writing copy for a hotel. You could just dash off something like this:

Our rooms are spacious and elegantly decorated. Each room has room for a roll-out cot, and every room has its own ocean view.

I'd say there's room for improvement. Take five minutes to craft that copy and see if you can make it sing without saying room four times. There are exceptions to this:
•The word you are using has no synonyms, or using one wouldn't feel conversational.
• You are using repetition for effect. Inspirational speeches may use a word or phrase as a mantra or rallying cry.
• You are writing SEO copy, otherwise known as "content", which means you will have to shove a key word or phrase into a small copy block three times.
•You are toiling on a heavily regulated pharma account (akin to donning a straight jacket and writing with a pencil in your teeth). If that is the case, the regulatory team will make you repeat not just the same word, but the exact same phrase, until you develop psychosomatic symptoms for the disease you are writing about. (By the way - it's now officially OK to end a sentence with a preposition.)

Back Off
Are you writing a brochure or a complex website? Take a step or two back, like when you're hanging art. Look at your paragraph order. (Paragraph. Now there's a perfect example of a word that's hard to avoid repeating. "Sentence collection" just doesn't cut it as a synonym). Make sure everything flows logically. Do your best not to start two back-to back paragraphs with the same word or phrase. Let's say you have two sequential paragraphs that start with the words "Collingsworth Finials." There's a school of thought that says great, you're beating the reader over the head with the client's name. I say do it more subtly. Why remind people that they're reading marketing copy? You can insert the client's name into the text just as many times and make it seem perfectly natural. Even starting two sequential paragraphs with the innocuous "We are" can make your copy look stilted and uninspired.

Kill all your darlings.
I love this. It's Faulkner's advice to writers, and if Spike Lee followed it, he'd be a much better film maker. Many of his films have entire scenes that feel like they belong in a different movie. They work on their own but not in context. To paraphrase the late Johnny Cochran, if it doesn't fit, you must edit. (No, that doesn't work. Why? The rhythm of the word "edit" is off. Instead, try "If it doesn't fit, you must omit.") Translation, if it's clever but it's not working tonally or contextually or even word count-wise, kill it. You can keep it in your bag of tricks for later. The point is to sell product, not demonstrate how clever you are.

De-clause your sentences
Try not to write sentences with more than two clauses. Three clause sentences are OK for a really high end target, say, people reading up on a hedge fund, but it's generally a good idea to pare down your sentence structure. Stay as conversational as you can. Remember that the public is, alas, getting dumber every day (OK, less educated). 8th grade reading level is about right on many accounts. You want your copy to sink in. Dish it out in digestible morsels. Avoid honking long paragraphs.

You talking to me?
Never forget who your audience is. If you are a 20-something writing for boomers, give us a little more content. We don't mind reading. If you are a boomer writing for 20 somethings, run your copy by your kid. 20 somethings are a jaded bunch. They think everything is "cheesy" - romance, sentiment, alliteration, word play of any sort. Fine tune your nose for cheese, even if it means smiting a darling or three. And don't be the dork who panders to a young audience with dated slang. If you're over forty, rest assured that slang will be passe by the time you first hear it. Of course, if you're sure of your colloquialisms, use 'em!

Write for actual people
Stop viewing focus groups as drudgery, or creativity killers. They are a goldmine. This is where you learn how to talk to people in their own language. I know it's entertaining to make fun of the people on the other side of the mirror, but you can learn a lot from them. Besides, if you pay attention, you'll eat less focus group junk food.

Ins and Outs
Watch your first and last sentences. You need to get people hooked immediately, and not leave them hanging at the end. A really good first sentence is like the cork in the champagne bottle. Get it out of the way and your copy starts to flow.

Seek reality checks
If you "get it" but two other smart people in the creative department don't, throttle that darling, bury it and continue to concept. Even Colbert comes out with a bad joke now and then - a self-indulgent gem that no one gets but him. Sooner or later you will come up with an idea that appeals only to your quirky sensibility. Give quiet thanks for your capacity for self-amusement and move on.

Strategy
Stay focused on the strategy. If you don't get one, go back and ask for one. If you still don't get one, come up with your own, based on the research. Yes, read the research. And do your own - go on line and visit chat groups, look at what the competition's doing, know the product/service in-depth. Make sure you check your brilliant concept against the strategy.

Jargon
Cranking out collateral or webwork for a jargon-happy industry can be painful. Finance, tech and education are just some of the categories that have their own lingo. Your natural impulse will be to simplify and humanize their language. For a first draft, it's the right thing to do. Maybe the client will say "Wow! This copy sounds like it was written by an actual human being. It's so clear, so friendly, so concise. Don't you dare change a thing." And maybe, to quote Wayne's World, monkeys will fly out of my butt. Here's what usually happens: you get slapped on the back for writing something simple and direct, and then, change by annoying change, the jargon seeps back in. It's easier to accept if you understand why:
• Using industry lingo helps position the client as an industry insider, especially in the B-to-B arena. You're simply more credible if you can talk the talk. Of course, if the end user is a consumer, simplifying language is usually a good call, and worth a little push back on your part.
• Political correctness may be an issue. In the non-profit world, for instance, there is no longer any such thing as a disadvantaged community. It's an underserved community. If your copy gets scrubbed for un-pc terminology, just smile and make the corrections.

When funny isn't
Most advertising people are funny. Most clients are humorless, at least when it comes to their brand. If you're going to use humor, make sure it is in the service of selling more product. Find a left-brained way to sell your idea. Your client isn't going to buy into something just because it's hysterical. And remember who you are talking to - don't go all Jimmy Fallon on a Leno crowd.

Spelling and grammar
Spelling matters. Grammar is relative. Hopefully, you get to work with a proofreader. Make those pesky little grammatical changes. When it comes to informal elements such as sentence fragments or sentences that start with "and" or "but", put your foot down and tell the proofreader to take a hike. Of course, your client may be the grammarian, in which case, you will be viewed as a hack until you comply. And if your target is affluent and/or over 65, they may be more inclined to follow the rules of proper English.

Punctuation
Ellipsis marks are cheesy. Unlike puns and wordplay, which were once common tools of the copywriting trade, they were already considered tacky twenty years ago. The only excuse for using the dreaded dot dot dot is when you have edited out part of a quote. Exclamation points are usually redundant and should be used extremely sparingly. Deploy commas, colons and semi colons as you see fit and hope you have a good proof reader.

Bite the bullets
Yes, they are ugly from a graphic standpoint. No, you do not want bullets in a print campaign you plan on putting in your portfolio. However, bullets are useful in crafting long copy. Anything that breaks copy down into scannable, easily digestible chunks enhances readability. Bullets, sidebars and callouts help make collateral more reader-friendly. Remember, nobody has an attention span any more.

Sublimate your ego.
Here's a painful truth: the best idea may not always be yours. Sometimes, the art director comes up with the headline. If you're worth your salt, sometimes you think of the visual. There will be occasions when the creative director, in his infinite dickishness, decides to reward you and your partner for your hard work on an account by opening up the TV job to the entire department. (The sad truth is, by the time TV comes along, the client may have beaten you into a creative rut, and your CD may know that.) You have to muscle through this, and you may not win - whether you have the best idea or not. Get used to the taste of bile.

Transcend style
Every brand should have its own voice. Not YOUR voice. The product, the target and the strategy all factor in to finding the appropriate tone for marketing communications. Your job is to find and maintain that tone.

Help me. I just can't get over myself.

My husband and I were watching Bill Maher. We're fans. We usually agree with him unless he's ranting about the evils of things like lamb chops or the polio vaccine. But when it comes to politics and world events, the guy is spot on, and he knows it. He positively radiates self-satisfaction. Which is why I made the comment that Bill Maher was quite possibly the smuggest man on the planet.


Hubby did not agree. In fact, he took it as a personal challenge to come up with somebody, er, smugger. He only had to wait long enough for Bill's next guest to come on stage.



Salman Rushdie. Fatwa target and erudite author of convoluted novels for academics. I tried to read The Moor's Last Sigh, but I got tired of looking up obscure historical references just so I could follow the plot. If I have to consult Wikipedia more than once per chapter, there better be a test at the end. (In all fairness, Rushdie's cat-that-ate-the-canary demeanor could be a relic from the days when he was married to Padma Lakshmi, a most gloat-worthy companion).



As someone who, to paraphrase Mick Jagger, can't get no self-satisfaction, I decided to take the smug challenge and see if I could come up with some folks who could beat, or at least meet, the level of smuggery set by Messrs. Maher and Rushdie.

The dictionary defines smug as follows:
Smug. [smuhg] - adjective. Contentedly confident of one's ability, superiority or correctness; complacent. Somehow, that made me think of political pundits. Being unabashedly partisan, I had to work from right to left.



I know, it's too easy, but surely Rush Limbaugh is the fattest, most fatuous fathead in the smug-opolis of professional punditry.



Now here's a righteous mug just begging for an "S" in front of it. Bill Kristol, one of the original architects of the Iraq war.



Smug with a bow on it. Sorry for the old picture, but George Will appears to have given up his trademark bowtie. Even without the eunuchoid neckwear, he still maintains a high level of proper preppy smug-itude.




It would take a lot more than a flag pin to burst Sarah Palin's smug bubble. She's earned it by proving that ignorance truly can be bliss. The kind of bliss that comes with millions of dollars, closets crammed with glad rags and adoring throngs of admirers. She has subverted the old American belief that if you work hard you can succeed. The new paradigm is read nothing, learn nothing, know nothing and keep telling us how much you love America. The woman actually makes George W Bush look smart.




Bla Bla O'Reilly. There's no denying Bill's smug factor.

I know what you're thinking: Where's Glenn Beck? Well, as of this writing, he's on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The unfair and unbalanced one did not make this list because he is insane and I don't think it's right to make fun of the mentally challenged. But, like Fox News, I like to maintain the illusion that I am fair and balanced, so, I must point out the undeniable smug-osity of...



Keith Olbermann. Unlike his right wing counterparts, the man does deal in facts. And he can write a good rant, though he apparently finds it impossible to edit himself. Keith's heart is in the right place, and his frequent indignation is genuine but Lordy Lordy, does that man like to hear himself talk. He's also not half as funny as he thinks he is - "The worst person in the WOOOOOOORLD," just might be the lamest bit on the, uh, planet.



Rachel Maddow, Queen of snark. I like that she's on, and I like that she's out, but her commentary tends toward the obvious. Like Keith Olbermann, she's way too enamored with her own humour. And her mother should have warned her that smirking is like crossing your eyes: if you do it often enough, your face freezes that way.

So much for politics, on to religion. Mother Theresa notwithstanding, faith and humility aren't necessarily a package deal.



Does it take a mega-ego to lead a mega-church? Just ask the purpose-driven Reverend Rick Warren. Whether God is pleased with him, only God knows, but Rev. Rick sure looks pleased with himself.


The hair. The arched eyebrow. The smirk. The Reverend Al Sharpton. The smug bug is colorblind. Just like ... Steven J. Colbert.



Really smug, or faux smug? I'm not sure even he knows anymore. And it's OK, because his fearless roast of George Bush at the 2006 White House Correspondent's dinner proved that he has the biggest cojones in comedy.


Yes, Alec Baldwin is smug, and he plays smug on TV. Plus, he can be really pompous about his politics. But damn, the man was hot back in the day. At least he doesn't wax his chest like some metrosexual little bitch.



Oprah Winfrey. So successful, so smart, so self-satisfied that rather than name her magazine after herself, she simply called it "O". Because when you're Oprah, you get to brand things like vowels. And in case anyone might think the O stood for Olive or Ophelia, Ms. Winfrey makes sure her face beams at us from the cover of every issue.



Donald Trump's ruddy skin tone may clash with the pink background, but his smugness remains undimmed. The famous hair construction that would look idiotic on your dad is an emblem of his smuguousness. Don's not balding and that's not a combover. Why? Because he says so and his reality trumps yours. Besides, after everyone's stopped chuckling at your lame hair joke, he'll still be filthy rich, and you'll still be struggling.


Get over yourself, Scarlett Johannson. You are not the first large breasted blonde to hit Hollywood, and you won't be the last. No matter how hard she acts, Scarlett always seems to be watching herself approvingly. And we always feel like we're watching her watching herself.



Why do I get the feeling Alice Waters grew her own Halloween costume? Why am I so sure that, when the party is over, she will make that necklace into a slow-cooked, Tuscan-style vegetable soup? Why would I bet money that tucked away in that berry crown, she's harboring a quail, to be impaled and roasted on a spit once its egg-laying days are over? Why is Alice so ditz-ily, deliciously smug?

Chevy Chase, a former Saturday Night Live comedian whose very mention dates me, said it best. He used to open his comedic news segments with the catch phrase, "I'm Chevy Chase and you're not." And that, my friends, is the essence of smug. If you don't believe me, just substitute a name – Sean Penn, Barbara Walters, Ann Colter, John Mayer, Nancy Grace – and see if it fits.

Think Ink

Meet your new creative team. I dare you to tell these guys they'll have to work without a brief.


I just participated in a linked in discussion about tattoos in the workplace. Everyone was weighing in about the significance of body art as a marker of creativity, which I frankly think is a load of crap. Can you be tattooed and incredibly creative? Absolutely. But I've also worked with my share of illustrated slackers. Creativity is not, and never will be, skin deep. So I amused myself by posting the following:


I used to be a hack. My headlines were corny, my copy was constipated and I hadn't had an original thought in years. Then, I realized what the problem was. No tattoos. Heck, I don't even have pierced ears. So I went down to my neighborhood tattoo parlor, stripped down to my skivvies and handed the guy my credit card. I started with a tramp stamp on my lower back. Being a minimalist at heart, I dispensed with the curlicues and simply had him etch the words "tramp" and "stamp" in Helvetica bold, right above my back dimples. Next, I wanted to do something celebrating my French and Jewish heritage, so we etched a mezuzah and an eiffel tower on my left bicep. Since I am also part Armenian, I honored that by having the artist do a stuffed grape leaf on my other bicep. (Sadly, it looks more like a dog dropping, as dolma, while delicious, don't translate well to epidermis.) Then, it occurred to me that in the winter, I might have to wear long sleeves to keep warm, thus concealing, or worse, stifling my creativity, so I made sure I inked my hands - we wrote CHOCOLATE in script on the left hand and NUTELLA on the right, in bubble graffiti to up my street cred. Finally, I opted for an argyle pattern on my calves that allows me to dispense with socks. The resulting ink-rease in my creativity has been nothing short of phenomenal.


I don't have to prove. That I am creative. I don't have to prove. That I am creative. - David Byrne

No words.

I'm sorry, I can't talk now. It's August. I have been working like a dog for the past three months, including weekends. I have been writing non stop about things like hip replacements, multiple sclerosis and gynecological surgery. I'm about to devote my entire weekend to a website for a PR firm. Am I grateful for the income? Very. Am I having interesting, potentially blog-worthy experiences? Nope. That would require leaving the house.

Now, my daughter is here visiting for a month before she starts law school. Or doesn't start law school. She is getting cold feet because she's having such a great time as a freelance writer and would rather become a journalist. I alternate between the you-will-never-make-a-living-in-that-dying-industry speech and the follow-your-heart-and-do-what-you-love speech. Truth is, I know she will have regrets no matter what she chooses. She is a glass half-empty kind of gal. That is not my daughter in the photo, by the way. I was looking for gag visuals to illustrate the concept of "no words." I picked that girl because she wasn't trussed and leather clad. Don't do a visual google on "gag" or you just might.

Anyway, since I have had no life recently, I have nothing to say. I need a break, and I need to spend some time with my kids and my husband. So I am officially going on hiatus for the rest of the Summer. See ya' in September.

Moe' Hotter

OK, Ga Ga. I get the whole post modern throw-all-the-visual-influences-up-in-the-air-and-see-where-they-land mashup thing. But since when is it considered hot to for a man to have hair like Moe from the Three Stooges?

Meet my other blog.

Like Snideties? Check out my other blog, Eucalyptus Way. Generally more personal and meditative.
http://eucalyptusway.blogspot.com/