The Nittany Turkey

Primarily about Penn State football, this is a tale told by idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

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Home 2008 Archives for May 2008

Archives for May 2008

What’s in a headline?

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Journalists and editors these days apparently lack the facility to write cogent headlines that convey the meaning of the associated news story unambiguously.

Recently, a good friend’s six year-old child was the victim of a minor shark bite, which he received while wading in knee-deep water at the beach during a Kindergarten outing. As there have been many shark bites off Florida east coast beaches of late, the local media wanted to make a big deal of it. It was indeed a big deal to the kid, who received eight stitches at the emergency room, and perhaps more so to his mom, but one local TV station felt it should be embellished by the following misleading, ambiguous, and alarming headline in the original report on its web site:

Shark Bites Child’s Leg Off New Smyrna Beach

The boy’s older sister was the first to note the ambiguity, finding it hilarious. Meanwhile, I had emailed the article to several friends to let them know that the incident occurred. I didn’t add a note to say that the tyke was doing well, as the article eventually got around to saying that, and the video interview showed him walking with his mom, leg taped up, but animated, loquacious, and clearly enjoying being the center of attention.

My friend who is an English professor also made note of the ambiguous headline, stating that it would be worthy of submission to Reader’s Digest. I received emails from most of the others to whom I had sent the article and I let them know that all was well. However, I then received a voice mail from a friend who was severely shaken—as emotional as I had ever experienced him.

That friend had received my email on his Wi-Fi iPod, and seeing the headline on the small screen and my note to the effect that it was my friend’s child, he was quite taken aback. He clearly read the headline as a shark-facilitated amputation. He had just had dinner with me and my friend recently, and wanted to know what he could do in this tragic situation.

The mood created by the equivocal headline instantly swung from frivolous to grave.

I quickly returned my friend’s call to let him know that it wasn’t as it seemed in the headline. That left him relieved at first, but angry later. I would be, too. This sort of sensationalist crap—the “if it bleeds, it leads” school of news editing—hurts people.

A few days later, I noted that the TV station had changed the article’s headline. It now reads:

Shark Bites Child’s Leg At Volusia Beach

Undoubtedly, they received complaints. It wouldn’t surprise me if people complained because they were wanting more gore than was the actual situation—they’re conditioned by the sleazy news to crave blood and seek it out. They were probably disappointed in this case.

The boy and his mom are doing fine.

Don’t Read This, Redhead — Spoilers Below

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Private note to The Redhead: Read the comments to the next post first. Then you can come back here for more.

THAT SAID (lqtm), tonight determined the composition of the American Idol final next week. We’ll offer some stupid justifications for what we think SHOULD be the final matchup. Who the hell knows who will be the final two, given what else has happened this season.

Well, according to Sir Wannabe (Simon Cowell, that is), David Cook won the evening’s competition, with which I agree. I also agreed with Paula Abdul when she said that Syesha’s performance was not good enough to get her through to the final. But she sure as hell looks good! (Syesha, not Paula, although the latter ain’t bad for her age.) Archuleta, of course, got the unanimous endorsement of all three judges. God forbid they should ever speak blasphemies against the baby-faced presumptive American Idol. (I thought Abraham put an end to that idol worshiping crap a few thousand years ago.)

Parts of I-95 are melting in intense brush fires near Cocoa, but Syesha was hotter. Her breathtakingly steamy outfits won’t be enough to save her fine, cafe-au-lait ass. She’s been hanging by a thread for the past few weeks, but Simon was absolutely correct that she peaked last week with the Sam Cooke number. Furthermore, in a rare moment of lucidity, Paula told Syesha that her work tonight wasn’t good enough to get her into the final. So, one has to believe that she’s gone.

REDHEAD BAIT ALERT!

Sadly, Archuleta will breeze through to the next round like a prune through a blue tick coon hound, but fortunately, Cook will offer some serious competition. I demand that Cook shows up for this competition! If he mails it in, he’ll lose. I’m not prepared to accept the premature coronation of David Archuleta any more than I’m prepared to accept the premature coronation of Barack Obama, whose campaign pretty much resembles Archuleta’s (young, naive, and not ready for prime time).

On Wednesday’s results show, Fantasia will perform. I never liked her all that much. I liked runner-up Diana DeGarmo better. (She’s doing Broadway musicals now, just in case you wanted to know.)

Certifiably Insane

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On a night when televised NBA and NHL playoffs involve teams of great interest to me, I’ll be watching American Idol. Sad, but true! I must be nuts—this Meleagris miscreant has obviously hit been hit by too many fowl balls. Is watching this TV dreck more entertaining that viewing professional sports being played at the very highest level? Hell, no! So, why the hell must I do it?

Obviously, because I’m addicted to this detritus.

Thank God there are only two more weeks of this crap. I’ve spent too much time concocting devious plans that will ensure David Archuleta’s denouement; my birdbrain has a headache from far too much agonizing over this little dork being the presumptive American Idol for 2008 when his singing bores the hell out of me. Have I mentioned that he’s 17 but looks 13? I’m sure I have. After all, I’m crazy, so repeating things is my bailiwick.

Aside from the pipsqueak favorite of the 9-11 year-old female demographic, two normal contestants remain: David Cook and the very sexy Syesha Mercado.

Tuesday’s penultimate performance show will feature those remaining three Idol wannabes singing three songlets each. Thus far, the length of songs sung by the contestants has been a minute-and-a-half. A little simple multiplication yields the actual performance time as 13.5 minutes. The program is listed from 8:00 PM to 9:03 PM (the extra three minutes is there just to piss DVR users off—it prevents them from automatically recording a program that starts at 9 PM on another network), which is 63 minutes. Subtracting the 13.5 minutes from 63 gives us 49.5 minutes of commercials and worthless, dumbass interaction between Ryan Seacrest and the contestants and so-called judges.

This week, the 49.5 minutes of fluff will include visits by the putative idols to their home towns, where if past instances hold any clues, they’ll meet with minor politicians and old schoolteachers. (Will David Archuleta visit his erstwhile nursery school, graduated a mere decade ago?) Some will receive mayoral proclamations and the like. They’ll cavort with normally annoying little sisters and cute but proud grandparents. Cheerleaders will cheer in smelly gymnasium assemblies honoring the visiting hometown heroes. We’ll be subjected to taped vignettes of these unentertaining festivities ad nauseam. The only related fact for which this large forest bird is grateful is that Jason Castro will not be one of the home returnees. (He was eliminated last week—thank you voters!)

Again, drawing upon the last several years’ recollections as a guide but without knowing for sure, this Turkey will put his titanium-studded neck on the block to tell you how the show will go. For their three songs, contestants will choose one themselves, with each the remaining two being chosen by the judges or the folks from back home. [This just in: the third song will be selected by the producers. –Ed.] The judges will offer their irrelevant commentary: Randy will act knowledgeable and critical, Paula will act sweet and forgiving, and Simon will act haughtily brutal (not much of an act, for Simon), following which the American public will vote repeatedly. (Last week, while there were 21.5 million voters, they cast 51 million votes. Busy little phoning and texting fingers, weren’t they?) On Wednesday night, we’ll know who is going to have to be cast in the role of midget killer to go up against the seemingly unbeatable Archuleta in the great, big, fucking over-hyped final next week. (The performance-to-fluff ratio will decrease accordingly.)

Could Archuleta be eliminated this week? Not likely, but stranger things have happened on American Idol in the past. If indeed it does happen, it would bring all the hysterical conspiracy theory nutballs and their black helicopters straight out of the refrigerator, but the explanation will be simple. The American voting public will have finally tired of listening to that same, smarmy voice with the same inflections played through the same squinty-eyed baby face week after week after week. It could happen and this Turkey will be the first to applaud the American voters for their diligence if it does. A Syesha vs. Cook finale might stand a chance of entertaining me.

(At this point, I expect people to chime in and say that it would never happen in a million years, just because the percentages are on their side. That way, if it does happen, they can be suitably shocked and it will automatically validate their conspiracy theories and such; if it doesn’t, they will say “I told you so.” Duh!)

I personally believe that some U.S. Americans don’t have maps… I don’t know where Miss Teen South Carolina and I were going with that line, but how about Archuleta dusting off that great Morris Albert leisure suit classic, “Feelings,” making it his swan song? Whattya think, such as?

I’m merely validating main assertion of this blog: I’m nuts, I’m addicted, and I really don’t give a shit who wins American Idol, as long as it isn’t the baby-faced, boring Archuleta. Come to think of it, I don’t even care if it is Archuleta. Let’s just get it over with, so I can return to my other addictions.