Tourists

One nice thing about living in DC is that it's easy to impress out-of-town visitors.

A few weekends ago NSCV came down for a festival involving Flogging Molly, a pseudo-Irish band we both like. M.M. came out with us, and I introduced them both to Turkish food one night and Ethiopian the next, both at restaurants within walking distance of my place.

This past weekend G.R. made his first trip to our nation's capital from his new home base in Delaware. G.R. is naturally enthusiastic, and actually pays attention to things like the Supreme Court, so he was like a kid on a sugar high. If kids on sugar highs kept dropping the F-bomb and talking about evolution.

So what could have been a somewhat brutal post-St.-Patrick's-Day slog around the mall actually turned out to be quite fun, with stops at the Botanic Gardens, the Canadian embassy, and the Museum of Natural History. I may have even learned some things about evolution.

Australians

In my ongoing desperation for content, I've resorted to telling other peoples' stories. Here's an email a Virginian colleague of mine (I'll call her V.C. for short) forwarded me yesterday:

>>> <> 3/14/2007 4:47 PM >>>
Subject: Fwd: "Slug" loses umbrella...

Colleagues,

From time to time on the Front Desk we receive calls that are a little out of the ordinary; one follows:

Earlier this morning (14 mar 2007), I received a call from a lady named [V.C.], who had a query she described as one you probably don't get every day. Ms [V.C.] had ridden into the District this morning utilising the "Slug" system most Washington workers/Virginia residents use. Ms [V.C.] advised she had had a thoroughly engaging conversation with the driver, and wished she had asked for her name; a wish that became all the more urgent when she realised she had left her umbrella in the Embassy staffer's car. The only info Ms [V.C.] had was the lady worked here; was Australian; drove a shiny red car, and was (today) wearing a yellow pants suit.

I promised I would keep an eye out for such an ensemble, but have been unsuccessful so far.

Minister/Counsellor (Management) and Consul-General, with an eye to the impending weather, has graciously allowed this e-mail to go out to all staff throwing Ms [V.C.] on your collective mercy.

Ordinarily, I would ask the staffer to call me, and I would then connect her with Ms [V.C.], but as we are about to close (and given the somewhat random nature of Slug encounters), Ms [V.C.] has agreed that her contact details can be published, and the staffer can contact her direct:

[contact details]

Again: Australian Lady; Shiny Red Car; yellow Pants Suit (today, at least) carrying an umbrella she can't readily account for.

Regards,

[friendly Australian embassy front desk man]

Within minutes of this email being sent out, V.C. was chatting on the phone with the now-famous yellow pantsuit lady. Not only was she reunited with her umbrella, she got a ride back to Virginia at the end of the day. And you know what? It didn't even rain yesterday.

Winners and losers

Just a short rant about TV. Why are networks still making tired sitcoms with tired ensemble casts (hot women, loser-ish unattractive men, and their smartass kids) and tired laugh tracks? I ask because, as a fan of Comedy Central's always-fresh Daily Show, I was interested to see The Winner, the network show that Rob Corddry left the Daily Show to star in. I think I caught the pilot on Sunday, and boy was it dull. Also it's set in 1994 for some reason (a very minor plot point in the pilot revolves around the O.J. Simpson police chase), as though to hearken back to a time when shows with laugh tracks could still be considered good--original, even. Or maybe innovations such as cell phones and email make things too complicated for the writers. Despite a few good lines and Corddry's brilliance at playing a clueless loser, I expected better.

Contrast this with, say, the Sarah Silverman Program, another brand-new addition to the TV landscape. Like The Winner, Sarah stars an unlikable, clueless narrator. Also like The Winner it features highly improbable plot lines, but Sarah takes absurdity to a different level. In one episode, she adopts a 10-year-old daughter for a day and grooms her to win a talent competition; meanwhile, Sarah's gay neighbors are arrested and harshly interrogated by Homeland Security, during which they snickeringly brag about leaving a bomb in a police car. Turns out that... well, I wouldn't want to ruin it. There will be plenty of chances to see the episode as Comedy Central re-runs it ad nauseum. My point is that the writers of the Sarah Silverman Program understand that in eschewing likable characters, plot arcs, and believability, they've stripped the show's appeal down to being consistently, knee-slappingly funny. Which it is. (Warning to sensitive viewers: the following clip would not be allowed on network TV).



And lest you suppose that being on a network constrains The Winner to breaking out the same old laugh track, please take 30 minutes on Thursday to watch 30 Rock on NBC. I'd review it, but I did promise a short rant.