10 April 2005

Random Doodads

With finals just around the corner and everything starting to pile up in a seemingly coordinated effort (more likely just because I'm a procrastinator), expect posts like this. If I survive the next three weeks, things will improve. Promise : )

On the late news tonight: “Some junior high students spent their Saturday in downtown Lansing learning about child abuse….” Nothing like a bad field trip to scare you straight.

Then later, from the world of anchor to anchor jokes: “Lisa, why are you still here? Basketball is over.” I was hoping for the conversation to continue, actually. Maybe a brief scuffle later.

In other field trip news, this time from a vet school expo (slow news day apparently): “Clothing is one of the major mediums for disease….” I always knew clothing was a bad idea.
While surfing through some AM talk radio stations (which I maybe do….once a month), I heard a story about some research going on regarding the ability to grow one’s own breast implants.

That’s right. Apparently, someone (hopefully a licensed physician) harvests some cells from that area, then takes the cells off to be grown and nurtured. Kind of like cabbage patch kids, though I presume the end product wouldn’t look the same. The resulting mass is implanted, just like a silicon or saline implant. Apparently, the only sticking point is getting blood supply to the new flesh.

Obviously, getting enhanced by adding more of “you” would be a lot safer. It’s not like you’ll reject yourself (at least not in the biological sense), and you’d have no risk of leakage (unless you’re just super-excited with your new look).

But I can’t shake this image in my head of commercials on television, with some slogan like “it’s you, just more” or “the world could use a little more of you....” or “give a gift to yourself: yourself.” A home kit would be developed.

It would be the Chia Pet of plastic surgery. I’ll leave it to someone else to write the catchy jingle.
So we all know that a movie version of Dukes of Hazzard starring Jessica Simpson as the pulchritudinous sister is due out this summer. This got me thinking about Daisy Dukes, logically. And then: what if other famous Dukes had clothing items named after them?

This summer, Senior Gap (hey, the population is aging after all), introduces “Doris Dukes.” Mid-thigh cut-offs, scrubbed in tobacco for a weathered, vintage look, and made of linen so they’re nice and wrinkly. Instead of “Juicy” emblazoned on the back, it would say “Chew. Spit.”

My brain stopped here, fortunately never making it to David Duke.
The Masters started today, advertised for weeks on CBS as “A tradition unlike any other.” I’m presuming the unspoken response was “sexism?”
Also on the golf theme, sort of: Those awful (AWFUL) commercials for natural male enhancement, that look like something out of a 1950’s suburban utopia, complete with argyle sweater vests. A variety of unsubtle symbolism is used to represent Happy Joe’s new and improved, um, well you know, including a scene with him swinging a huge driver on the golf course. If anyone ever comes up with a program for natural golf enhancement, don’t use this marketing analogy.


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