We will finish our course in sex education tomorrow, but in the meantime two issues of great importance have come to light.
Number One: I was recently introduced to cave-aged Gouda, a cheese both incredibly delicious and ridiculously expensive. It comes in two types, one aged three years, and one aged five years. It's the same cheese, just aged longer and priced even higher in the latter case. Why is it that a cheese that can survive all those years in a cave, and then survive for God knows how long in the grocery store, begins to rot the second I place it in the climate-controlled cave-like environment that is my refrigerator's cheese drawer? If I buy the three-year version, shouldn't I have at least two years before it begins to spoil?
Number Two: What is the show dog world's love of poodles all about? I've been watching Westminster for about 20 years, and pretty much each year at least one poodle is deemed "Best in Group." Because poodles compete in both the non-sporting and toy groups, not one but two poodles can end up fighting it out for Best in Show. Every year, more of the same: the standard poodle wins group, or the miniature poodle takes it. If that doesn't happen Monday night, then the toy poodle takes its group Tuesday. Winning Westminster always comes down to vanquishing the poodle.
What's so great about these poodles? I know, take away the haircut and you have intelligent, gentle, obedient, loyal companions, blah blah blah. What well-trained dog isn't all of the above? Brody has all of those qualities, without the haircut. Brody is a self-respecting Brittany who would not be caught dead with that ridiculous haircut. I know, the poofs are to protect the joints while hunting, or whatever. Most dogs were bred to hunt or herd, yet only poodles are groomed to look like Marie Antoinette. Why do judges keep rewarding this? The show world's embrace of the poodle represents the triumph of grooming, of style over substance. Everyone loved Uno last year because a beagle beat not one but two poodles.
Naturally, a standard poodle won the non-sporting group last night. Brody and I will be watching tonight, cheering on each and every other breed.
Showing posts with label doggie porn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doggie porn. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Thursday, July 17, 2008
You Know You Want to Watch
It's been a while, and it's time for a roundup of crappy TV. Sure, Generation Kill started Sunday night, and Mad Men returns at the end of the month, but summer really isn't the time for edification. It's the time for half-drunkenly watching fluff. It's the time for I Love Money.
I Love Money is on VH1. It's repeated so many times a week I have no idea when new episodes air. Just turn to VH1, and an episode will surely be playing. It appears to be some sort of 'all star' competition, where contestants from other VH1 shows I've never watched have been asked back to compete not for "love" but for $250K. I don't know where they found these people, I really don't. Since even the contestants seem to understand the inherent loss of self-respect that goes along with their participation in this program, they all go by pseudonyms: Toastee, Heat, Real, Destinye, Niblz, and (my favorite) Whiteboy, who is a tatooed Jewish guy who undoubtedly just graduated from Brandeis.
The contestants live in a "mansion," are divided into two teams, and eliminate each other. It's a low, low rent version of Survivor meets Big Brother meets a train wreck. There's no purpose to anything other than being on TV and winning some money, and the show and the contestants are honest about this fact, and it's for this reason that the show is brilliant. Isn't every reality competition finally "about" the love of fame and money? Isn't every reality contestant ultimately playing a character, having been cast for "dramatic" effect? Here, it's all in the open, and in that sense I Love Money is a meta-reality show, a reality competition about reality competitions where generic convention is laid bare. It's so bad it's wonderful. You must watch it.
If you can't bring yourself to spend an evening contemplating the feud between Toastee and Niblz, try The Greatest American Dog instead, on Thursdays at 8 on CBS. Here, we have crazy dog people and their dogs living in a house together, competing for the title and, of course, money. Each week, one dog/human pair is eliminated. It's Survivor meets Big Brother meets America's Next Top Model, with cute dogs thrown into the mix. Brody and I watched last week's premier together and were happy to see that one of the contestants is Star, an orange and white Brittany. "Look," I said to Brody repeatedly, "that's what a good dog looks like. Look! That's a good Brittany performing tricks rather than running in circles chasing bugs while it's human gestures wildly, trying to get its attention." Brody was nonplussed, but he enjoyed the show, and you will too.
I Love Money is on VH1. It's repeated so many times a week I have no idea when new episodes air. Just turn to VH1, and an episode will surely be playing. It appears to be some sort of 'all star' competition, where contestants from other VH1 shows I've never watched have been asked back to compete not for "love" but for $250K. I don't know where they found these people, I really don't. Since even the contestants seem to understand the inherent loss of self-respect that goes along with their participation in this program, they all go by pseudonyms: Toastee, Heat, Real, Destinye, Niblz, and (my favorite) Whiteboy, who is a tatooed Jewish guy who undoubtedly just graduated from Brandeis.
The contestants live in a "mansion," are divided into two teams, and eliminate each other. It's a low, low rent version of Survivor meets Big Brother meets a train wreck. There's no purpose to anything other than being on TV and winning some money, and the show and the contestants are honest about this fact, and it's for this reason that the show is brilliant. Isn't every reality competition finally "about" the love of fame and money? Isn't every reality contestant ultimately playing a character, having been cast for "dramatic" effect? Here, it's all in the open, and in that sense I Love Money is a meta-reality show, a reality competition about reality competitions where generic convention is laid bare. It's so bad it's wonderful. You must watch it.
If you can't bring yourself to spend an evening contemplating the feud between Toastee and Niblz, try The Greatest American Dog instead, on Thursdays at 8 on CBS. Here, we have crazy dog people and their dogs living in a house together, competing for the title and, of course, money. Each week, one dog/human pair is eliminated. It's Survivor meets Big Brother meets America's Next Top Model, with cute dogs thrown into the mix. Brody and I watched last week's premier together and were happy to see that one of the contestants is Star, an orange and white Brittany. "Look," I said to Brody repeatedly, "that's what a good dog looks like. Look! That's a good Brittany performing tricks rather than running in circles chasing bugs while it's human gestures wildly, trying to get its attention." Brody was nonplussed, but he enjoyed the show, and you will too.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Good Teeth, Healthy Coat
It's hard to beat looking at beautiful women, but I would never watch a beauty pageant. This isn't just because they're sexist (although they are sexist), but also because they're dehumanizing, reducing women to body parts and shiny hair. And yet every year I spend two nights watching Westminster, which, let's be honest, is a beauty pageant full of body parts and shiny hair. I understand that which is not human can't be dehumanizing, but there's still something disturbing about the dog show, even if it's hard to beat looking at beautiful dogs.
I know that breeders and participants think of showing as a sport, and I'll admit that a certain amount of fitness is required of both dog and handler in order to look good running around the ring, but it's hard for me to see this as a sport. This isn't field trials or agility; the winner of the dog show isn't the fastest, the strongest, the one with the most stamina. The winner is the prettiest.
The dogs are judged based on their breed standards, and the dog that comes closest to achieving "perfection," meaning the dog that most closely meets the standard, becomes "best." The judging criteria go beyond breed standards, though; each breed also has a grooming standard for the show, and markings are taken into account, not only in that roaning may or may not be acceptable for the breed, but also in that the dog simply needs to have nice markings. Go to a dog show and watch the ring preparations, the amount of time spent on clipping and brushing and covering blemishes and creaming and powdering white coats to make them look their whitest.
Ten years ago, I had a friend who owned probably the worst show dog in the world. By that I mean the dog hated the ring, had acne, and clearly wasn't cut out for the life. Her purchase contract for the dog stated that he had to be shown for two years, though, so she showed him for two years. The average cost per year, in 1997 dollars, was $10,000. Why spend all that money? Well, if the dog becomes a champion you get it all back by breeding.
The dog show is then ultimately about the economics of sex. Winners breed with winners, their offspring sold off at a premium. Male champions spend their retirement having their sperm harvested and frozen, producing an income stream for their owners for years to come. The dog show is a study of eugenics in action.
How would we feel if this was the ultimate result of the Miss America pageant?
I know that breeders and participants think of showing as a sport, and I'll admit that a certain amount of fitness is required of both dog and handler in order to look good running around the ring, but it's hard for me to see this as a sport. This isn't field trials or agility; the winner of the dog show isn't the fastest, the strongest, the one with the most stamina. The winner is the prettiest.
The dogs are judged based on their breed standards, and the dog that comes closest to achieving "perfection," meaning the dog that most closely meets the standard, becomes "best." The judging criteria go beyond breed standards, though; each breed also has a grooming standard for the show, and markings are taken into account, not only in that roaning may or may not be acceptable for the breed, but also in that the dog simply needs to have nice markings. Go to a dog show and watch the ring preparations, the amount of time spent on clipping and brushing and covering blemishes and creaming and powdering white coats to make them look their whitest.
Ten years ago, I had a friend who owned probably the worst show dog in the world. By that I mean the dog hated the ring, had acne, and clearly wasn't cut out for the life. Her purchase contract for the dog stated that he had to be shown for two years, though, so she showed him for two years. The average cost per year, in 1997 dollars, was $10,000. Why spend all that money? Well, if the dog becomes a champion you get it all back by breeding.
The dog show is then ultimately about the economics of sex. Winners breed with winners, their offspring sold off at a premium. Male champions spend their retirement having their sperm harvested and frozen, producing an income stream for their owners for years to come. The dog show is a study of eugenics in action.
How would we feel if this was the ultimate result of the Miss America pageant?
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