Technically Incorrect

Chances are, many of you will be going next weekend to see He's Just Not That Into You.

Some will see this, already America's No.1 movie, willingly, even enthusiastically. Others will perhaps grimace and bear it in the commitment to a higher cause.

However, while you are enjoying "I'm a Mac" icon Justin Long channeling his inner Vince Vaughn with the aim of keeping women at torso's length, you might also notice that MySpace plays a role in the movie. One that might best be described as the sleazy character that no one loves and everyone wishes would just die.

I don't want to spoil the plot too much for you (because it has so many surprises, you'll have troubled maintaining consciousness), but I was persuaded to spend a couple of hours in the company of He's Just Not That Into You this weekend. And rarely have I seen a brand so tersely derided on the wide screen.

(Credit: CC d70Focus)

One of the characters, Mary, played by Drew Barrymore, is an ad sales lady looking, as all ad sales ladies seem to be, for love. She is attempting to find it by meeting people on MySpace. However, she is advised by her nearest and very dearest (yup, gay co-workers- this is a Hollywood movie) that MySpace is something of a sleazy joint in which to be casting for pearls.

Then, near the end of the movie, I could have sworn that she finds her ultimate love liberation in closing her MySpace account.

Which led me to wonder (only for a moment or two, but still) whether MySpace was aware of this shining portrayal in advance. Perhaps it's a post-post modern attempt at self-irony. Or perhaps whoever wrote the script had a difficult and perverted experience on the site and needed to eke out his or her pain.

Of course, there's also the extremely cynical idea that the movie was produced by New Line Cinema, a division of Warner Bros, while MySpace is the full brother of 20th Century Fox. But I can't believe anyone would stoop so low merely for commercial reasons.

I am sure you all have your own views of MySpace. Just as you will all have your own views of this star-crossed filmic homage to Jane Austen by next Sunday morning. (Saturday's Valentine's Day. What do you mean you didn't know?)

It is, quite literally, a cliff hanger.

The Italian Job gang has stolen the gold. But their bus is hanging over the edge of a cliff. Michael Caine, who survived to become Batman's batman, utters the words: "Hang on a minute, lads. I've got a great idea."

So how can the gang save themselves and their illegally obtained life savings in this '60s cult classic? Now the Royal Society of Chemistry is asking the world's engineers to find a solution to one of the great movie endings--no helicopters allowed.

The rules are quite simple: Assume that in 30 minutes, the truck will topple down the mountain. As a very clever engineer, you provide a strictly mathematical calculation, coupled with an accurate diagram and, perhaps most difficult for some engineers, 150 words of explanation.

A Mini homage to The Italian Job.

(Credit: CC Exfordy)

Professor Chris Pearce, fellow of the Royal Academy of Engineering, offered this frightfully imaginative solution to the Daily Telegraph: "I would suggest that the gang get out of the coach, let it fall, and get down the mountain as quickly as possible to retrieve the gold from the wreckage. That is the only logical thing to do, as it preserves their lives, and the gold isn't going to bother about the fall."

Now here's the thing. Michael Caine, who played the lead character named Charlie Croker, actually revealed the ending The Italian Job's producers intended a few years ago.

"The next thing that happens is, you turn the engine on," he told the BBC. "You all sit exactly where you are till all the petrol has run out, which changes the equilibrium. We all jump out, and the gold goes over the cliff. And at the bottom are the French mafia, sitting, waiting for the gold."

You see, the point of the cliffhanging ending was to prepare for a sequel. The second movie was to tell the story of the gang's quest to retrieve the gold from those devious onion-garlanded, bereted mafiosos.

However, Americans didn't mob movie theaters to see The Italian Job in sufficient numbers, so the sequel tumbled off the production pile.

Still, there is a spectacularly stingy prize--three nights, surprisingly, in Turin--for the fine mind that can bring this classic cult movie to a dramatic and scientifically accurate conclusion on the 40th anniversary of its release.

You have until January 1 to prepare your case. Involvement in the so-called Bridge to Nowhere does not disqualify you from entry.

Nike, having already collaborated with LCD Soundsystem on the creation of music that might enhance running performance, is now commissioning more young musicians to create tunes specifically for your sweaty ears.

A key in finding music that will improve your performance, some experts believe, is Beats Per Minute (BPM). The more beats in every 60 seconds, the more strides you are likely to take.

However, I understand that aerobic performance might also be enhanced by the rearrangement of a song's lyrics.

The Taylor and Francis Journal of Sports Science published research that concluded: "When selecting music for an individual, the effects of personal associations should be considered. For example, a boxer may have conditioned him or herself by listening to a certain piece of music prior to fighting. Where possible, practitioners should attempt to encourage the formation of such personal associations and harness their power."

If you make the lyrics more meaningful to you, then you will experience a heightened emotional involvement which will drive your body to more intense action.

Indeed, several of the more influential personalities of today's troubled world have been trying to find an extra edge through their ears. Some have, allegedly, commissioned well-known lyricists, producers and performers to reimagine existing works, specifically to improve their aerobic efficiency through their iPod-coddled ears.

I understand that Steve Jobs himself has had the Village People's YMCA reworked by Coldplay. The new personal jogger version has a much faster tempo and, in honor of Apple's successes when recently presenting its case to the recording industry's association, is entitled RIAA.

John McCain, who is said to take regular power walks up and down several of his homes in his singlet and shorts, managed to persuade Latino star (Mave)Ricky Martin to redo the Beach Boys' classic Barbara Ann.

Performance enhanced by iPod?

(Credit: CC Mark from Borft)

To a fast, repetitive and haunting beat, the words assault the ears and make the listener run for the hills. But they are not the "Ba'mb, Ba'mb, Ba-Ba'mb Iran" lyrics with which Mr. McCain once regaled an audience. No, no. Instead we have:
"Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba-Barbra Bush.
Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba-Barbra Bush...".

Strangely, the verses include the line:
"Went to a dance,
looking for romance,
Saw Barbara Bush
and my insides turned to mush....".

You see, aerobic exercise and a traditional view of love really do go together.

Barack Obama is not one to be outdone. So it is not surprising that he has jumped on the personalized iPod running content bandwagon. Apparently, he managed to persuade Stevie Winwood, a star from quite a long time ago, to recreate his hit "Valerie".

Some of the words make for very moving listening:
"Hillareeee.. Call on me.
Hillareee, Call on me..
Come and see me...
I'll be here in the morning at three...."

Clearly, it helps to have the right connections to create your own jogging accompaniment. But perhaps Apple will consider allowing anyone to recreate their own performance-enhancing versions as part of the iTunes service.

More royalties for the artists. More loyalties for Apple.

I, for one, have a new version of the Vengaboys' Boom Boom Boom Techno Trance Dance Mix that I'd like Radiohead to have a look at.

Perhaps you, too, would like to share the ways in which you would like some of your favorite songs rewritten and rearranged for performance-enhancing purposes?

It was all so exciting while it lasted.

But now one has to lie down, shaking with shock, on discovering that the supposed Bigfoot discovery was, indeed, a gorilla suit in a freezer.

The Web site Searchingforbigfoot.com, owned by Bigfoot hunter Tom Biscardi, on Tuesday carried the words of Steve Kulls, who is apparently the executive director of something called Squatchdetective.com. Kulls was invited to be a witness to the thawing of the captured cadaver.

(Credit: CC Boston Public Library)

"We contacted Mr. Biscardi who gave us permission to begin an expedited melting process. We set up a salamander heater to heat the freezer," wrote Kulls.

"Within one hour we were able to see the partially exposed head, as I was now able to touch it, I was able to feel that it seemed mostly firm, but unusually hollow in one small section," he continued.

"Within the next hour of thaw, a break appeared up near the feet area. As the team and I began examining this area near the feet, I observed the foot which looked unnatural, reached in and confirmed it was a rubber foot."

Live beings do not have rubber feet.

Subsequently, Rick Dyer and Matthew Whitton, the two Georgians who claimed they had happened upon Bigfoot's body, allegedly admitted their sleight of mouth.

Kulls added: "The motives behind this fraud are still unknown at this time. It is still unclear why Whitton who, being a police officer for the Clayton County Police Department in Georgia, got up before the world and lied and was complicit in a scheme to defraud in a felonious manner."

Of course, now legal action is threatened because there appears to have been money given to Dyer and Whitton in exchange for the gorilla suit. And, presumably, the freezer.

According to Kulls: "At this time the victim of this series of deceptions, Searching for Bigfoot, Inc., is seeking justice for themselves and for all the people who were deceived by this deception. Due to this event peoples lives have been disrupted and many people, so wanting vindication about there prior experiences, were hurt. Let us all try to be mindful of such."

Regardless of how many more Searching For Bigfoot T-shirts have been sold over the last week, I believe I was hurt by this deception and I hope you do too. And I look forward to each of us receiving, at the very least, several hairs from the gorilla suit.

I am indebted with a depth I have rarely experienced to Technically Incorrect commenter Crabby Golightly, who has drawn my attention to the Field and Stream site.

Field and Stream, a magazine devoted to hunting and fishing, is offering, in conjunction with the outdoor equipment manufacturer Bushnell, $1million to anyone who can produce a verifiable photograph of Bigfoot.

"We're not saying we believe in Sasquatch, but if anyone's ever going to capture an image of one, we're guessing it'll be a hunter with a trail camera. That's why Bushnell is offering a chance at $1,000,000 to the first person using one who snaps a verifiable photo of the beast," declares the site.

It is not for me to say whether Rick Dyer and Matthew Whitton, the two Georgia non-hunting hikers who claim to have a dead Bigfoot in their freezer, have one eye on this contest, which was launched in June and closes in December.

He's out there. He's really out there.

(Credit: CC Rightee)

And I am sure that the folks at Field and Stream did not have the two intrepid Bigfoot trackers in mind when they added this to their site:

"BONUS CATEGORY: For all you jokers out there - we're giving away an additional Bushnell Trail Scout Pro camera for your best attempt to cheat Bushnell out of their $1,000,000 prize. So go grab your gorilla suit and head to the nearest woodlot. Just don't get mistaken for a bear*. *Please use caution when taking photographs outdoors and in the wild, especially when using suits or costumes that resemble wild animals (Gorilla, Sasquatch, or other)."

All Mr. Dyer and Mr. Whitton will have to do to earn their million is "provide an unaltered photograph/video, verified and substantiated by a panel of scientific experts [including a zoologist and biologist], the evidence required to prove a Sasquatch/Bigfoot/Yeti exists."

Which, as last Friday's press conference showed, they feel they are well on their way to doing. They have, according to their site bigfoottracker.com, sent their Bigfoot's DNA sample away for 'analization.'

Although Mr. Whitton and Mr. Dyer are themselves excellent marketers, it will be quite difficult for them, one suspects, to actually win this $1 million, which appears to be fine marketing on the part of the Bushnell and Field and Stream folks.

On the evidence of Friday's photo, some might say the Georgians will be struggling in the Bonus Category too. Should they ever enter it, of course.

Updated to include more specific details of the two Bigfoot sites. And for all of you who don't like the way I spell the word 'unphased', please understand that I am allowed one Anglo spelling per month as part of my dual nationality. Here is a link to my hometown newspaper, the Birmingham Post. Hope this helps to ease the pain. And here's another link to ZDnet, which proves this freaky Anglicism has crept onto US shores. It is truly not my intention to analize (sic) the English language.

What was most revealing about today's exhilarating and highly truthful Bigfoot press conference was not what was said.

It was the headgear.

Emblazoned with the URL bigfoottracker.com, a site devoted to their own Bigfoot tracking enterprise, (a site, incidentally, that declares that Bigfoot's DNA has been taken away for 'analization'), the baseball caps worn by Matthew Whitton (aka Gary Parker) and Rick Dyer said so very much.

Their words on MSNBC's Countdown With Keith Olberman said it with a cleanliness only rivaled by Bigfoot's teeth. When asked by the lucky stand-in presenter, Rachel Maddow, whether they were out to make as much money as they could, Mr. Dyer, who had not uttered a word through the entire interview, firmly stated that this was the case. (Please take note, Mr. Zuckerberg and Ms. Sandberg)

These are businessmen who put most Web 1.0 enterprises to shame. Most of Web 2.0 too. They have a geneticist's rigorous grasp of detail. And they have a clearly articulated business plan.

Messrs Whitton and Dyer are afraid of nothing, certainly not of the world's press. After all, they have faced and sniffed the body of Bigfoot. They have dragged his five hundred pounds back to their pickup truck. They have resisted the urge of calling the police, or Animal Rescue. These are men smart and courageous enough to have run Webvan.

(Credit: CC Jef Poskanzer)

In their interview with Ms. Maddow, they were amusedly unphased. They stated their case. They insisted that, despite previous reports (that might well have been true), they weren't hunters at all, merely hikers who happened to come across an incredible find and even braved the circling of other Bigfeet who were perturbed to see the body of their blood brother being dragged away, like a large, hairy Lindsay Lohan, to a career in Hollywood.

But they have learned one thing about life- and specifically about the internet business. They don't just talk monetization. They do it wherever they are online. Their own site is surprisingly sophisticated, with products galore. And on another site, one owned by a Bigfoot tracker called Tom Biscardi, where their find and their faces are both heavily featured and, where one supposes, they might just be getting a cut, the merchandising just goes on.

If you hotfoot it to searchingforbigfoot.com, you can pick up an authentic SearchingForBigfoot cap, in black or white, for $24.99. (a BigfootTracker.com hat at Whitton and Dyer's own site goes for just $19.99) You can hitch up your trousers with a commemorative Bigfoot Lives pewter belt buckle, its price inexplicably reduced from $34.99 to $29.99. And for a mere $35 (reduced from $40) you can adorn your front porch with a Bigfoot Welcome Mat.

Were they hunters, which they avowedly are not, they might describe this as a great way to make a killing.

Of course, these products are merely loss leaders, because when the venerable scientists from Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan or Georgiastan confirm that Matt (aka Gary) and Rick are, indeed, in possession of a Bigfoot cadaver, searchingforbigfoot.com and bigfoottracker.com will rival Amazon and Fifth Avenue for traffic and profit. And they will rival Facebook on the engagement scale.

The possibilities are taller than some would accuse their story. Bigfoot perfume, Bigfoot dogfood, a Bigfoot steakhouse chain, perhaps even a Bigfoot blog from beyond the grave.

You see, it's not enough just to have a good idea, you have to have your business plan jingling with readiness.

I understand that the real reason today's press conference was held in Palo Alto is that the two intrepid businessmen had another meeting in the vicinity.

The Stanford Business School has already offered Messrs. Whitton and Dyer professorships. The two hikers from Georgia said they would think about it.

You see how clever they are?

Because you are alive and online, you will probably have already heard that two hunters in Georgia claim to have discovered the body of Bigfoot, the legendary big, hairy, well, thing.

Many commentators, including CNET's redoubtable Caroline McCarthy, have expressed a soupcon of skepticism about the veracity of the discovery.

I can, quite naturally, understand such doubt and redoubt. Journalism is a dubious business.

And Matthew Whitton and Rick Dyer, the two hunters who claim to have discovered the big-footed body, have, unfortunately, created a YouTube video in which they presented a supposed expert, a Dr. Van Buren from Texas, who turned out to be Mr. Whitton's brother. And, um, not a Doctor of Bigfootism.

However, Mr. Whitton's explanation was very convincing: "I'm just tired of all the stalkers so I had my brother, 'Dr Van Buren', come down (... )I'm just glad you all had something to do on the weekend. We still have a corpse."

Now THIS was a hoax.

(Credit: CC Bitshaker)

When you are being constantly stalked, you have to take reasonable evasive action. And who better than your brother to help you in such a situation? However, there are other facts that suggest Mr. Dyer and Mr. Whitton will, tomorrow, stun the world:

1. Their press conference is being held in Palo Alto. No one who is not in full possession of unimpeachable facts would ever dare venture to Palo Alto to be scrutinized. Palo Alto is the home of some of the finest faculties in the world, and only someone who had long ago lost his faculties of reasoning and personal safety would agree to speak there without full confidence in his evidence. Would you talk fake DNA in a place surrounded by weird scientists and DNA labs? Neither would I.

2. It is one of life's great lessons that if you persevere, you will reach your goal. Mr. Dyer and Mr. Whitton are not casual hunters who happened to come across a huge hairy body that would take ten men to drag through the forest. No, these are men who have dedicated themselves to the pursuit of this 7 feet, 7 inches tall, 500 pound menace. I mean, this thing is taller than Yao Ming. It is ten Yao Mings across. At least. When you make such a vast entity your life's pursuit, then your wish will often be granted. It is the same attitude with which Sir Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin and Simon Cowell discovered Il Divo.

3. Bigfoot was found in Georgia. This, for me, is the clincher. All those dreadful science fiction novels, movies and strange, bearded commentators have always said that Bigfoot's beat was the Pacific Northwest. How can this be anything other than nonsense? Georgia brought us the brutal killing and, er, other stuff, of Deliverance. The Pacific Northwest brought us Sleepless In Seattle. Georgia brought us Michael Vick and dogfighting. The Pacific Northwest brought us Woodland Park Zoo, 92 acres of fun for all the family. Georgia is home to CNN. The Pacific Northwest doesn't even have a regional office of the Food Network. (Atlanta, naturally, does.)

I firmly believe that at noon tomorrow, in the Cabana Hotel-Palo Alto, history will be made.

And all the Teetering Thomases who once believed there was no such thing as the Loch Ness Monster or Darth Vader, will be shown up for the total fools they are.

With suitable tragi-comedy nuance, Netflix announced this week that it made more money in the 2nd quarter (yes, profit went up 4%) and that it was closing Red Envelope, its film financing and acquisition company.

It so happened that over the last couple of weeks, I happened to have three Red Envelope movies fly from my Netflix queue, via a deeply philosophical USPS mailman, to my door.

Did Netflix really have to take this depressing decision? All these three movies were surprisingly good.

I have no recollection whether the Netflix's insidious secret service, with the deviously credible Stan Lanning as one of its chief agents, actually recommended these movies because of my predilection for, say, Talladega Nights.

(Credit: CC SWRuler 9284)

But 'No End In Sight' (a documentary about a soupcon of Iraq War bungling), 'Protagonist' (a documentary about four men who latch on to strange obsessions in their lives. And none of them are techies) and 'Private Property' (a drama about a woman with a son more hideous than tasseled loafers) could all be termed, at the very least, classy.

Despite such successes, Netflix admits to giving at least 4 Red Envelopers pink slips. (Although I have also read that up to 75 employees might be released.)

I got the first part of that last sentence wrong. It is precisely because of such successes that Red Envelope is being shut down.

It appears that the Red Envelopers were rather good at picking the right movies behind which to put money. Which made the fabulous munificent studios that put vast sums behind dreck rather than Shrek incredibly hulkish.

After all, Netflix relies on deals with those studios to distribute all of their content. So Red Envelope had to be killed off, before even reaching its Second Act as a company.

One can only hope that the smart people this company employed can still practice their craft elsewhere. Such as in one of the fabulous munificent studios that put vast sums behind..ah, yes, we have a storyline dilemma here.

So here's a plot twist.

Perhaps Red Envelope consistently outbid the studios, but then never made any money.

I will walk into the sunset and contemplate that one.

The End.

Wall-E, the hero of Pixar's latest huge success, has waddled into an unexpected spat.

About fat.

If you have not yet seen the movie, I won't spoil the story.

However, I can tell you that the second half depicts human beings as obese, lazy, mindless slobs who glide around on lounge chairs, slurping humoungously-proportioned cupcake drinks as their flab flaps in the slipstream.

This vision of the future is, naturally, a vast stretch.

However, the National Association To Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA) is largely unamused.

At its conference in LA, which ends today, the organization enjoyed entertainment from the Fatimas, declared its members' determination to make the word 'fat' their own and much private debate apparently whirled around the deleterious influence of Wall-E.

The Wall-E debate seems to have been begun by Ms. Rachel Richardson.

She voiced her concerns about Wall-E's anti-fat depictions even before the movie came out.

On her blog, 'The F-Word,' she accused Pixar of 'fat-bashing.'

"WALL-E specifically singles out and targets obese people as the primary cause of mankind's demise," she wrote.

(Credit: Zac-Attack)

This use of words seemed a little careless as NAAFA, for example, believes supposedly PC words such as 'obese' or 'overweight' are not merely sad attempts at largesse. They are moral judgments, created by thin people to suppress their more sizable brethren, just as certain world leaders of the past attempted to champion only the perfect eugenic specimens.

Anyway, in her next post worrying about Wall-E's poisonous effects, Ms. Richardson wrote:

"The real truth is that people just don't care that others are being discriminated against, as long as it's not directed their way. They don't - or won't - see how such stereotypes harm both fat and thin people, and contribute to an environment where a recent study of teen girls reveals they'd rather be blinded or lose a limb instead of becoming fat."

Ms.Richardson continued to express her concerns in a post yesterday.

Ms. Marilyn Wann, another fat-tivist, who has her own site, Fat!so?, was quoted by the Daily Telegraph's site as having told London's Sunday Telegraph:

"Pixar should be out of business for portraying this level of prejudicial bigotry-mongering. These are 19th-century hatreds repackaged in modern animation. It's amazing."

Here's the truly amazing thing, though.

Ms. Richardson, for example, hasn't seen the movie.

She does, however, reference those who accuse Pixar of 'lazy logic' by equating environmental collapse with overconsumption.

I'd be a little more interested if she and other fat-tivists wrote about how they felt having actually seen the movie. Would they feel better about it? Or even worse? Would they order the large popcorn? (Yes, I am ashamed of that last question. I am weak. I am in the stranglehold of stereotypes. I watch too much Sarah Silverman. Please save me.)

As it stands, isn't it something of a stereotype confirmation to criticize a movie you haven't bothered to actually see? Isn't this the very logic of the lazy she is warning us against?

In any case, fat-tivist critics are surely missing the deep-seated, positive message of Wall-E's remarkable story.

There he is with his tiny little neck and sweet little binocular eyes. And his rather disproportionately large belly.

The thing is, he puts that belly to such good use. He takes the waste that overconsumers have left behind and makes pretty little buildings out of it.

Surely that's what Pixar is getting at.

The Obesity of Hope.