Go, Go Power Ponchos, Ancient Alien Meme-tasticness and Doodly Fun

I keep seeing the above image on Facebook, in an ad for an online fashion site. And each time I do, my brain automatically comments: "Mighty Morphin Power Ponchos."

Clearly, someone needs to get a group together to wear these garments-- one color of each-- and strike ninja poses in the various open spaces around Pittsburgh. Y'know, to liven things up between Furries Conventions.

"Go, go, Power Ponchos!"

(And um, no, I am not volunteering. I'm the Ideas Person. Implementation is free for someone else. :) )

Speaking of ideas, there's this meme going around where you go to Google Images, you type in your first name and the word "meme" and see what images pop up related to it. I decided to try it for my lead alien character Rollie.

This is what came up for that.

For folks here who are familiar with my books, I am open to any and all suggestions of what exactly Rollie did to the Ancient Aliens guy. Go ahead! Be creative. Because with Rollie, it really could be pretty much anything.

Speaking of Rollie, I've been doing a few little doodly illustrations in the evenings from the books-- just for my own entertainment. Below is Bertram and Rollie at the Lunch-n-Launch Diner from The Purloined Number.

Bertram does enjoy digging into the alien chow!

Below is Rollie on Altair-5, from the perspective of an Altairan Carnivorous Daisy. Yup, them's some big angry posies!

And the last drawing is also from The Purloined Number-- my character Meena showing her sculpture at the art gallery on the planet Gwash. Meena's art is done in backspace materials, like paper mache, architectural salvage and despair. Oh, and she'd want me to tell you, she accepts commissioned work! :)

Anyway, that's it from me. I've got various holiday tasks to do this weekend, including trying to find gifts for people who don't want anything, and clumsily taping pretty colored paper onto non-conforming objects.

I swear, if anyone at this time of year ever asked me what superpower I would like, I'd say: to make wrapping paper bow to my will and not cause every present to look like some kindergartener hepped up on sugar plums wrapped the gifts.

---Jenn

Where Have All the Plural Pants Gone?

It arrived in my Inbox this morning. "The Soft Pant."

The email claimed to be from DressBarn, but my instinctual mistrust of the denizens of the internet suggested to me it probably was porn spam. Because if there's any soft panting going on online, that's usually where it'll find ya.

But no. Further inspection revealed a strange new perspective in fashion marketing. Somewhere along the way, it seems our bum-covers have become all feisty and leg-independent-- lone wolves, toughing it out in a statement of personal destiny, rugged individualism and polyester blends.

I'd seen hints of this leghole-based libertarianism a few months ago. There was one sign in Express, and another in New York & Company, proclaiming the chic awesomeness of this or that particular "pant." I had only just mentioned it to my friend Linda, when she promptly discovered this ad in her own email...

The "tummy control pant." One pant to control them all! 

Ah, if only Frodo had enjoyed the benefits of this singular garment of belly-bulge-bracing resolve, he might have been able to finish his epic journey in the span of a standard two-hour feature film.

I admit, it has me curious just how far the ramifications of the solo "pant" go. I mean, plural pants have been a part of our language for a while now. And I don't know if I'm ready to adapt. For me, it brings up questions of consistency.

Now do we tell someone to, "Put your pant on one leg at time"?

Do we talk about who "wears the pant in the family"?

After a big meal at the SuperPanda buffet, do we lean back in our chairs and exclaim, "My pant is too tight!"?

For my British friends, in a moment of dismay, are we required to exclaim, "Oh, pant!"

And if a film really sucks, must we proclaim, "That movie was pant!"

Also, I want to know if this applies to synonyms for the two-legged garments. Will we soon be up to our navels in "trouser"? On the weekend, will we slip into our favorite pair of "jean"? Do we now go to the meeting in one fashionable "slack"?

Is this some insidious ploy by the shirt and sweater marketing associations, who've secretly felt bitter all these years for having two sleeves yet being referred to as one piece of clothing, forcing them into being united for a single cause? Is this some sly chance to urge conformity among the soft cloth funnel wearing masses?

I want to know.

In the meantime, I glance suspiciously at the "headphone" on my desk and wonder. And wait.

Fruit of the Loom Guys Experience Spy Infiltration

Recent evidence has come to light that the Fruit of the Loom Guys-- the renowned mascots for a popular cotton underwear brand-- have been compromised by foreign entities posing among them, in order to obtain highly-classified information on comfort waistbands and non-wedgie fabric production.

Readers may already be familiar with Rory McIntosh (also known as "Apple")-- the popular lead singer of the Fruit Guys group-- and skilled backup men, Concord Jones (called "Purple Grape" to his fans) and Jimmy Niagara (stage name: "Green Grape").

But who is this figure with them, silently harvesting the sweet fruits of their labors?

Leif Romaine, also known as Ignacius Iceburg, Lenny "the Head" Lettuce, and George "Garnish" Wilson is believed to have been a plant in the Fruit Guys band from the very beginning.

Large sums of green sent to Mr. Romaine's bank account suggest that he was in the employ of the Adam & Eve Undergarments Inc., even while appearing with the Fruit Guys. His job, theorists indicate, was to root out the manufacturing strengths of the Fruit of the Loom brand, so it could be duplicated in the Adam & Eve factories at cost.

But Leif's fall from grace has hit the other members of the Fruit Guys hard.
In a candid interview with members of the band, the musicians indicate they feel soured on the whole system now.

"I had no idea something so rotten was going on right under our noses like that," said McIntosh.

"Guess it only takes one bad one to spoil the bunch," added Niagara philosophically.


But the band members insist that because the market is still ripe for their band's niche their music will only grow from this regrettable scandal.

"It all stems from our devotion to comfortable, affordable underwear," states Mr. Concord.

Now, Leif Romaine sits in prison, awaiting trial, in a small maximum security terrarium living on meager sunlight and water.
Lawyers for the accused currently offer no comment. Word on the grapevine is that he plans to plead "Innocent."

The Ad-gony of Da Feet

Advertising. It makes us laugh... It forces us to order dishes using words we'd never actually say outside of an antihistamine-induced coma ("Rooty-Tooty Fresh and Fruity" anyone?)... And because it needs writers, it pays my bills.

End-zone dances for that.

But bad advertising can also be like a too-short toenail...

It won't kill you. But it sure throbs when you bang it on the Coffeetable of Critical Thinking.

And two ads-- both of them local-- consistently make that big toe go "boing."

Let's start with the newest. It's for The Good Feet Store, a chain that offers the kind of foot-zen podiatric gizmos you'd imagine Doctor Scholl displays in his wood paneled rec-room, lecturing on their physics when he's had one too many Rob Roys.

It's The Good Feet Store's rock-song jingle that gets my metaphorical marketing toe a-throbbing.

"I'm back to doing what I love-- and more--
Thanks to the Good Feet Store
I've got my freedom back-- and that's for sure--
Thanks to the Good Feet Store."

It's bad enough that the second stanza implies, just for the sake of rhyme, that we doubt the truth of her Good Feet Store praise.

Look, lady, it's your feet. If you say you're Fred Astaire-ing your way through the frozen foods section, who are we to deny?

But it's the first line of the first couplet that gets me.

"I'm back to doing what I love-- and more."

So... also what you don't love? Then why are you singing about it with such a peppy, up-beat tune?

Shouldn't it be more some Cure-like, world-weary, miserable dirge?:

"Now that my feet feel fine I guess,
I have to do all this dreadful stuff I never used to do
And think of you
Yes, I think of you...
The fallen arch of my life"

But then, as much as those Good Feet lyrics bug me, I also find myself feeling sorry for the poor singer.

I mean, think about it: there she is, wailing her little heart out for this gig. She may have imagined getting a regional commercial on the main stations would be the one thing that would get her really noticed as an artiste...

The one song that would have people demanding her to headline their up-and-coming band...

Or that would get her on American Idol.

So she goes into the studio and finds out... it's a song about feet.

Well, feet and freedom, anyway. (Hey, Feet and Freedom might just work as a band name!... No, really! You never know. That's a freebie from me to you, Musician readers out there! Feet and Freedom. Think about it.)

(Or maybe it's just that antihistamine-induced coma again.)

Anyway, my second advertising peeve is also foot-related (notice the nifty theme we've got going?). And this peeve has been grating on me since college.

It's for a small local shoe store, and it's their slogan. The commercial shows pairs of bare, tapping feet.

"What do feet have to do with shoes?" asks the narrator, like Alex Trebek for a super-important Double Jeopardy question.

Then we see more tapping feet. Irritated feet. Nervous feet. Petulant feet.

"What do feet have to do with shoes?" the narrator asks us again, mysteriously.

We're confronted with even more feet. A conga line of feet. Rockettes feet. A Feet Fiesta!

"What do feet have to do with shoes?" the narrator intones a whole third time.

And you get the feeling she's really building up to something. Some important revelation or a terrific riddle that we'll all get giant belly-laughs over and will relay to our friends over after-work nachos because of the funny feetliness of it all.

And here it comes... the answer... the pedal punchline to end all punchlines....

"Everything."

Everything?! "What do feet have to do with shoes: Everything"?!!

Well, what do feet have to do with socks? What does ham have to do with cheese? What does Abbott have to do with the little scared fat guy who follows him around? What does pimento have to do with donkeys?!

(Nevermind about that last one.)

But "What do feet have to do with shoes: everything"?!

And for the love of Nike, not a single shoe in the ad!

Anyway, those are my big ad peeves right now. I'd love to hear from you about what sets your metaphorical big toe a-throbbing. Tell me about an ad you've realized just doesn't make any sense. And, hey, it doesn't even have to involve feet!

Or freedom.

(Bonus points to anyone who can tell me why one toe above is labeled "Sgt. Hulka"!)

This post has been sponsored by Humorbloggers Feet Day. It has also been sponsored by the letter F, the bunion on Mike WJ's left foot, and that toe-nail clipper you got too overzealous with last week.

Thank you.

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Pineapples and Pen Pushers

"You can slice a pineapple in mid-air!" enthused the voice on the TV, advertising Miracle Blade Knives.

I stopped what I was doing and tried to think of a scenario where anyone would NEED to slice a pineapple in mid-air...

Possibly if a poorly-armed Polynesian gang moved into the neighborhood.

Or if I were part of a troop of fruit-juggling circus performers, and the act needed some serious spicing up.

Otherwise, it makes you wonder just a bit what the brainstorming sessions for these made-for-TV products look like.

Ah, picture it... The lead product marketing manager stands at the front of the oval table. "So, people, what sets this product apart from the competition? What do these knives DO? "

A small voice pipes up from the peanut gallery around the table, "Well... they cut food, Sir...?"

"Of course they cut food!" the boss snaps. "All knives cut food. I don't want to market knives that make eating easier. I want to market knives that can... oh, I don't know... cut through concrete blocks, or something."

"SuperMegaChop already does that, Sir," one marketing flunkie points out.

"Okay, then--" continues the lead marketer musing a moment. (I like to think of him as played by Brian Doyle Murray in a bad toupee.) "I want a knife that can... saw through a car hood!"

"MarvelBlades beat us to it, Sir," another lackey says. "They also market the MarvelGlue to put it together again, and the Marvel UltraSuedoShammyPlus to buff it out."

"Fine, fine, fine. Then I want a knife that can--"

"Cut a pineapple in mid-air, sir?"

"Smithers, you're a genius!"

I also always get a kick out of the ad for Gevalia Coffee (or rather, Kafe, for those of us whose finely-tuned tastebuds prevent us from spelling anything in English). Have you seen this one?

The employee is sitting in his office trying to look like he doesn't need to be downsized, when his friend comes in and brings him a cup of coffee. Aw, what a nice gesture, we think. What a wonderful colleague. But this guy, our executive, HE TURNS IT DOWN.

Does he say he's cutting back on coffee? That he's just had a cup?

Why, no. Instead, he says, he's "going to get his own." And he does it in this smooth, cocky tone of voice that makes you think he either skunked his coworker who's been trying to poison him to get that office with the window... or coffee's the keyword for him to go have a morning tryst with Lydia, the office supply girl.

Anyway, he grabs his coat and goes outside, where he completely passes by lovely cafes and well-stocked coffee carts. Instantly, he steps onto the bus (like anyone ever gets a bus that quickly in the city) and...

HE GOES HOME.

Yes, in the end scene, we see him sitting there on his comfy sofa, sipping his beloved Gevalia Kafe in a moment of quiet reflection, the cares of the day washing away. Of course, it also looks like it's about 9am , so his cares were probably related to the bus ride IN.

The irony here is, the next thing Gevalia tells us is how if you sign up to receive Gevalia, you'll get a handy travel mug.

No one has apparently told our executive about the travel mug.

Nope. He's just blissfully unaware that when he gets back to the office after his refreshing coffee moment, clients will be burning mad looking for him...

He'll have missed the entire brainstorming session on kitchen knives....

And Brian Doyle Murray's going to finally remember he'd meant to fire the guy three weeks ago.

It's just as well, because he'll never get another coffee or donut in that office again. And who knows WHAT he'd get for the Secret Santa at the holiday party. I'd imagine it'd be travel mug. Every year for the rest of his tenure.

So, tell me folks-- what commercial have YOU seen which makes you wonder how it ever got on the air? Inquiring minds want to know. :)


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