Study: Publicly-funded tutoring under NCLB pays off
That was the headline as written on CNN.com at the following URL:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/EDUCATION/06/28/nochild.tutoring.ap/index.html
I sent an e-mail to CNN.com informing them of their HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE MISTAKE. One does not hyphenate a compound modifier if the first word of that same compound modifier is an adverb ending in
"-ly." So there, my bitches!
Or not.
According to legend, Hasselhoff bombed during his first audition for the role of Michael Knight, after which he begged for a second chance. Before returning for his second audition, Hasselhoff yelled repeatedly to himself in the bathroom mirror, "I am the Knight Rider! I am the Knight Rider!"
Figure 1: Hasselhoff acting in outer space.
After reading that little bit of history, I wondered if Hasselhoff did the same thing at the second audition: yelling repeatedly at the producers, "I am the Knight Rider! I am the Knight Rider!" He’s a convincing fellow, for sure.
Figure 2: Hasselhoff: "Ladies, it comes out to here."
For the unacquainted, Knight Rider was a TV show on NBC from 1982 to 1986, starring David Hasselhoff. The show followed the crime-fighting adventures of a man and his talking, homosexual car, KITT (an acronym for "Knight Industries Two Thousand"), played by a 1982 Pontiac Trans-Am and William Daniels.
Figure 3: KITT’s dashboard made the control panel of
a commercial airliner seem idiot-proof.
Recently, I found a website dedicated to the show. One of the website’s features is a list of each episode paired with a brief synopsis. Believe it or not, I read every synopsis, and in doing so, made a discovery that you may find shocking: some of Knight Rider’s plots are implausible, and even more shocking, some plots were recycled, multiple times, with little variation. Provided below, as evidence for my theory, is a list of episode synopses grouped by theme. These are actual plots from the show. The only changes made to the synopses were for grammatical and stylistic purposes, and Hasselhoff’s own name is used in place of the character he portrays, Michael Knight. Why? It just seemed funny. Enjoy.
Theme 1: Sinister Business Deals
(1) Hasselhoff and KITT go undercover at an auto-daredevil show whose owners unwittingly took out a second mortgage from a crooked broker who arranges accidents to force the owners into bankruptcy.
(2) Hasselhoff and KITT go undercover as a daredevil act to investigate a circus whose owners are being forced into bankruptcy by the angry local townsfolk.
(3) Hasselhoff and KITT go undercover at a ranch for troubled teens that’s being forced into bankruptcy by the angry local townsfolk.
Theme 2: Archaeology
Figure 4: Hasselhoff and KITT on their way to another adventure.
Figure 5: Hasselhoff and KITT arrive at another adventure.
(1) Hasselhoff and KITT investigate the mysterious deaths among members of an exclusive club for geniuses involved in an archeological excavation.
(2) Hasselhoff and KITT investigate the mysterious disappearance of an archaeologist excavating an ancient Native American burial ground.
(3) Hasselhoff and KITT investigate a voodoo priestess who is inducing the members of an archaeological expedition to commit crimes and then kill themselves.
Someone on staff had an obsession with archeology. I’ll bet you $100 that it wasn’t Hasselhoff.
Theme 3: Witnesses
(1) Hasselhoff and KITT investigate a businessman exploiting illegal aliens. A blind woman is the only witness.
A blind woman is the only witness? Does she "only see voices?"
I'm going to date myself—no, not like that you mental perverts.
Like most people my age (mid 30s), my family owned an Atari 2600 video game system. The Atari 2600 was the thing to have in the early '80s because there wasn't much else, besides Intellivision. Recently, I had a conversation with my friend (using mental telepathy) about the Atari 2600 and its lackluster games, particularly a game vaguely based on one of the most successful and beloved films of all time.
No, not Spice World.
No, not Troll.
Figure 1: The screen captures featured in this blog entry are from the hack version of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial because they are much funnier.
I’m referring to E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. This game is perennially cited as one of worst videogames of all time. Or the last 30 years. E.T., the videogame, was quickly released for the 1982 Christmas season to cash in on the success of the movie. Hoping to boost sales, Atari produced millions of copies of E.T., which is unfortunate, as it sucked major (dad) ass. Unfortunately, 1982 was a bad year overall for videogames, as the market was flooded with dozens of inferior titles. In fact, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and Pac-Man are often cited as the dual impetuous behind the histrionically titled "Video Game Crash of ’83."
How to Play E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
You are E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.
But wait! There’s more! But not much.
As E.T., you must collect the various components of your space-phone in order to phone home. Sounds easy—too easy—correct? Yes, in theory. Along the way, you must avoid all sorts of antagonists, like doctors and FBI agents, who are out to steal your space-phone, but your good friend Eliot, of course, is there to assist you, sometimes.
Figure 2: In this picture, E.T. builds a modest, split-level
ranch home in ancient Athens. Notice his rather limp dick.
Now comes the insane bit: Where does E.T. find the components for his space-phone? In the hundreds of deep, giant pits scattered around town! Just like the movie! You, as E.T., must fall into the pit, collect the component, and then levitate out of the pit in a very particular manner, otherwise you will fall back into the pit, and if you keep falling back into the pit, you could DIE. Trying to get out of a pit takes MINUTES, thanks to Atari’s inadequate control system. Anyway, to levitate, you must fully extend your E.T. neck, float away, and then retract it as soon as you get to the top of the pit, or, for some reason, you will fall back down, again. Oh no!
Figure 3: E.T. inside one of the infamous pits.
Notice his rather prominent erection.
E.T. was almost pointless, and somehow managed to be simultaneously too difficult and too simplistic. What explains almost all of this is that the game was developed, programmed, and tested within six weeks by one person. And here he is!
Figure 4: The Atari programmer responsible
for the E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial videogame.
Yes, I bought a copy. I bought it because it was cheap, as I couldn’t afford the better games, which were sometimes 30 to 50 dollars! But most of America, unlike me, knew better, and Atari had fourteen truckloads of copies buried in a landfill in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Urban legend has it that meddling kids located the dumpsite and stole copies, but officially, what I’ve determined, is that Atari had the copies crushed by a steamroller before burial. Why not recycle, you bitches?
During the summer of 1992, after a successful first year at college, my friend Brett and I drove to our friend Erik’s house to see if he wanted to join us on our adventures, which usually consisted of driving Brett’s old Ford Ranger on power line trails to see where we would end up. Yes, indeed. Erik’s family (a horde of Vikings) lived on a rural road, deep in the woods, like mountain men. Or Vikings. Side Note: Erik's mother was from Norway. Their large and rustic-looking house was at the top of a steep hill, and as we were coming up the driveway, we noticed that the front door was open, wide open. We parked the truck and walked to the door to see if anyone was home, and...no response. We went inside, and determined that yes there was no one home, and yes, Erik’s family had not been murdered—at least not on the property. We could not find any sign of…foul play...
For some reason, which I can’t quite remember, Brett came up with the idea that we should go to the supermarket and purchase a cake to leave on the kitchen counter. I added that we should also buy a tube of decorative frosting and write a message on the cake. I suggested the following in pretty, teal-colored frosting and a florid script: "Lock the door, assholes!"
We laughed and laughed.
http://planethiltron.com/index.php
This person has really amusing pictures of celebrities altered by means of this Photoshop thing all the kids are talking about these days. My personal favorite is the little person Dina Lohan (see below).
Yesterday, on my way home from work, sitting in traffic on 128, an accident involving two motorcycles occurred next to my car. "How could this have happened?" Calm down bitches, and let me explain.
The first rider, named...Chuck (?), was speeding in the breakdown lane, which is always a good idea, and he came to a sudden, screeching stop. Why? I was not aware at that moment, but just up the highway, also in the breakdown lane, were a state trooper and the remains of a three-car pile-up. And just as Chuckie came to a complete stop, a second rider named...Gary (?) who, in addition, was carrying a wild filly of a passenger, probably his old lady, smashed into Chuck-O and sent him FLYING forward, like William Katt on TV’s The Greatest American Hero. Or Puma Man, but that’s a bit of an obscure reference. The Chuckster somersaulted, sans gym mat, but he got right back up, just like Lee Majors on TV’s The Fall Guy, and as soon as he did, Gary took off (I’m assuming Chuck and Gary knew each other, but who knows?). Afterward, Chuckberg sat his ass on the guardrail. I almost called 911 (which is certainly not a joke in my town), but then I saw the trooper up ahead and started to inch my car toward him. I could tell by the expression on trooper’s face that he had seen the accident, and he started to make his way toward Chuck, but I still performed my civic duty and informed a police officer that I had just shat my pants.
Yesterday on All My Children, the women of Fusion presented their new marketing campaign for Fusion Green to a representative from a very important chain of imaginary department stores.
To those who don't know, Fusion is the local cosmetics giant founded by Kendall Hart-Slater, Greenlee Smythe du Pres Lavery, and the deceased Simone Torres, who last year was a victim of the Satin Slayer! What? Yes! The Satin Slayer was a serial killer who targeted the women of Fusion, as brilliantly surmised by local 34-year-old fetus, Dr. Joshua Madden, despite the fact that fellow Slayer victim (the Satin Slayer, not the band) Dixie Cooney Martin had never stepped foot or feet inside the Fusion offices.
Dixie, of course, was killed by a helping of poisoned peanut butter and banana pancakes. (Never had I seen such a disgusting sight on my television before—the pancakes, not Dixie.) In fact, the visually revolting pancakes had more screen time than long-time character Brooke Allison English Cudahy Chandler Martin, especially since Dixie took almost a week to eat the damn things; I thought they were going to receive an on-screen credit and a SAG card.
For some not-so-obvious reason, the Satin Slayer and his serial killings negatively affected Fusions sales, and in response, Fusion Green was created to win back those sales. What is Fusion Green? Fusion Green is a series of new, environmentally conscious cosmetic products. Still clueless? So was the representative from a very important chain of imaginary department stores. How's this: The marketing materials mostly consisted a series of 8½-by-11 prints featuring images of various fruits and vegetables that happen to be green, with the Fusion corporate logo printed in the corner. Brilliant. Doesn't ABC Daytime have a marketing department they could ask to make some mock advertisements? I know ABC Television is only a small division of the cash-strapped Disney Corporation, but someone in-house must have a copy of QuarkXPress.
Anyway, Di Henry, local Dixie Cooney Martin impersonator and now non-descript Fusion employee, proudly presented these marketing materials as Greenlee gave her speech about Fusion Green being "fresh, new, and exciting." Sold!
(Greenlee's oratory reminded me of Henry V's monologue before the Battle of Agincourt. No, not really. Goddamn it Greenlee, buy a frigging thesaurus.)
As usual, the writers of All My Children prove they have no concept of the real world. For example, the Fusion Green video presentation featured the rep himself. Let me explain that again: The new video presentation of Fusion Green's marketing campaign features the rep himself watching the video presentation among scenes of the Fusion woman frolicking in the office, with various shots of trees, bodies of water, and of course, fresh green produce. Apparently, Fusion has a corporate TARDIS, in order to defy the laws of space and time.
That’s a quote from a training video I watched during my first day of work at Marshalls in August of 1991. I shall always remember that video. I might write more about that in the future. That’s a tease.
We had a meeting at work this afternoon about insider trading. Why? I can’t tell you! What I learned from the presentation given by a doughy financial guy and his accompanying video, which must have been produced in the late eighties judging by the eyewear of certain actors, are the following facts:
The presentation was a bit dull (NO!) but the video was kind of funny in a retro/overdramatic kind of way. Although it wasn’t quite as dramatic as the testicular cancer video I had watch in my senior year gym class in high school:
"Hey, son. You look kind of down. What’s wrong?"
"Dad, I got a lump."
"A lump? Where?"
"It’s on my...it’s on my...it’s on my nut."
And scene!
Who are these actors in these instructional videos? Most of these guys and gals take their roles far too seriously. Or not at all. In the video I watched today, I thought the man arrested (in public, a la Law & Order, with snappy one-liners) for insider trading was going to cry when confronted later on by a corporate middle-wig (played by Eric Roberts wearing a dojo): "I JUST WANTED A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR MYSELF!" Calm down, bitch. You should take a cue from the guy playing the FBI agent who arrested you; he was about as animated as HAL 9000.
OK, last night on this HBO show called The Sopranos, the character Phil Leotardo, played by the actor Frank Vincent, is "wiggity wiggity whacked," as the kids like to say, at a gas station, standing just outside the SUV driven by his wife. In the back seat sit two of his grandchildren, who happen to be infants, speaking some strange baby language.
After Phil is shot, his body drops to the ground, and his wife screams and runs out of the SUV while the transmission is in still in Drive. The SUV starts to roll forward, and the rear passenger-side tire rolls right over Phil's freshly dead head. POP! The scene is so graphic that a young man baring witness to Phil's demise vomits profusely. That, or the kid ate one of those microwave burritos sold at gas stations. The grandchildren continue to giggle with glee and roll all the way to that night’s Tony Awards.
So, what I learned from last night's episode is that the scenario of a man’s head being run over by a truck "driven" by babies is really funny to me.
Yes, it's true! I have won Jossip’s prestigious "Comment of the Day" award for the very comment I posted this morning! Wow! I’m truly honored. What was an offhand remark has brought me utter glory. Go here to see the proof:
http://www.jossip.com/clay-aikein/comment-of-the-day-8-20070605/#comments
I must thank the editors of Jossip, my wife, my parents, and my friends. Thank you, all of you.
http://www.celebitchy.com/4098/clay_aiken_stinks_up_first_class_flight_with_his_feet/
Hello! Recently, I posted a comment on celebitchy.com, a gossip website I read at work when I’m bored. I’m going to assume that from the URL you can figure out the subject of the posting on which I commented, although I highly suggest reading the story on super-duper star Clay Aiken. By the way, my screen name (Zhudokhchichtskov) is a Russian surname made of gibberish. I combined a bunch of common Russian syllables with the appropriate male suffix (i.e., "ov" or "son of"). Enjoy!
I don't see the big deal. When I fly first class, I usually take a shit on the seat next to mine.
Zhudokhchichtskov | 06.05.07 - 3:01 pm | #
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ok, that was funny.
I DON't know | 06.05.07 - 6:44 pm | #
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On May 26, I helped Jess with her yard sale. She's moving into a new-to-her apartment in the nearest of futures, all the way across the street, and she wanted sell some possessions she had accumulated over the years (e.g., obscene finger puppets), and to make some serious scratch, since the feds had shutdown her startup organ bank. Damn you, craigslist!
Jess was nice enough, for once, to let me bring some items of my own to sell. Until then, I had not been aware of the number of colorful, i.e., bat-shit crazy, people who might attend a yard sale, and they made their presence known in full force that day.
First, there were the two women, whom Jess and I referred to as "the women." I'm not sure where the women were from, but I would have to guess somewhere in the Caribbean, given their accents. What made these two women stand out was their complete case of sticker shock after they learned the outrageous prices Jess was charging. Some of the sale items were priced at SEVERAL DOLLARS! One of the women asked how much the toaster I had brought was, and Jess said five dollars. (I hadn't considered how much to charge for the toaster, since it had only been used a few times, but I never removed the crumbs. Or the blood.) The woman rolled her eyes in disgust and began to barter. Easily aggravated, Jess whipped out her switchblade and said, "Listen, bitches: I think it's time for you to leave."
Later, a very nice homeless woman stopped by and bought, among other items, two VHS tapes of HBO’s Sex and the City. I'm still wondering whether or not she has a VCR. She did have a very nice pair of fuzzy leopard-print slippers.
But much to my surprise, even more than the crazies, was the fact that Jess was selling one of her most prized possessions: a Buck Rogers space helmet, based on the hit NBC 1979 to 1981 series Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. It's an extra-large space helmet, able to contain the most massive of heads, and equipped with several exciting features, including a "Buck Rogers" label across the brim of the helmet that Jess modified herself to say, "Fuck Rogers." Now you too can pretend to be...Fuck...Rodgers...on his latest adventure to thwart the sinister plans of Princess Ardala or whomever…Jess likes to wear the helmet in public and announce, "Hello everyone. It's me, Fuck Rodgers."
