Rambling Rhodes

Badges? We Don’t Need No Stinking Badges

Redacted.

You wouldn't believe why, either.

Wait. . . What?

I was reading something on a blog earlier today, when I noticed the following skyscraper advertisement:

Now, I'm no marketing guru, but why in the hell would Vonage choose the emblem from the Chinese flag for an advertisement? What are they trying to convey, exactly? I suppose it's possible they're trying to play up the 2008 Olympics, or something, but just generally speaking, it makes no freakin' sense.

Choose Vonage, and all your Marxist dreams will come true?

From The Department of Freakin' Obvious

Caroline says: PB is really hard-hitting today. Headline: "Deaths from head-on crash leave sudden voids"

Caroline says: Whaaaaaaaaa? Really?

Ryan says: That's pretty deep.

Ryan says: Better headline: "Deaths from head-on crash lead to joy, merriment."

Ryan says: THAT would make me want to read further.

Ryan says: Also in the PB: "Blizzard brings an Arctic Blast."

Caroline says: Aren't those two names of desserts? I think a Blizzard is from DQ and Arctic Blast is a generic Icee drink.

Ryan says: In today's beleagured newspaper industry, they're resorting to subliminal product placement.

Caroline says: Hey, head-on IS a topical treatment for headaches.

The January That Just Won't Die

Thanks to global warming, or climate change, or planetary dissociative disorder, or what the hell else you want to call weather patterns we pathetic humans can't even begin to fathom, this Minnesota winter has been one of the worst in recent memory, at least going back to 2001. Of course, I predicted this (according to me), but that does little to soften the jagged, sharp edge of this most egregious winter onslaught.

We were granted a brief reprieve yesterday, with temps climbing into the 40s, with actual RAIN. That rain transmogrified into a nice treacherous sheet of ice overnight, as temps decided to mimic the housing market and plummet back into the familiar territory of a whole 5 whopping degrees. Gee, thanks, Mother Nature. Five degrees, huh? Your generosity knows no bounds.

And, to top the tater, it's snowing like crazy right now. From rain to full-fledged blizzard mode in less than 16 hours. Honestly, it's enough to make me question my sanity, and I STILL have February to endure. Great gobs of gopher guts.

You Just Have to Have It

Caroline says: So apparently Windows on XP doesn't have a driver for a wireless card. Looks like we'll have to get Vista on our new computer. Weird.

Ryan says: Microsoft is genius.

Ryan says: Produce an inferior product, but make it such that you need the inferior product to run superior products.

Caroline says: Werd.

Ryan says: No, MICROSOFT WERD.

Caroline says: Yo.

When A Movie Review Suffers Bush Derangement Syndrome

This review of Rambo is just an unintentionally hilarious scream:

Just in time for the final days of the Bush regime comes “Rambo,” a movie with its heart in Reagan-era ham-fisted foreign policy and its brain looking for new geopolitical evil that can be reduced to its most simplistic form.

Seriously. If you can take a movie like Rambo and wrap it into a screed about the "Bush regime" and ham-fisted foreign policy, you've pretty much leaped over the fence of sanity and rationality. It's Rambo, for crying out loud. If you find yourself reading anything into it beyond blood and guts violence, you simply have too much time on your hands. Also, chances are good you probably look like a veteran nerd. Oh, wait:

The film does for the Myanmar genocide what “I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry” did for same-sex marriage — it brings a serious issue to the attention of morons who haven’t picked up a newspaper in five years while dragging that same issue down to nincompoop level.

Oh, sweet mother of pearl. If it were up to this guy, every movie being made would give the proper gravitas to the issue at hand. Try to imagine "Rambo" being treated along the same lines as "Philadelphia." How is it possible a movie reviewer can't seem to grasp the concept of "entertainment." I love how this guy can write "morons" and "nincompoop" into the same paragraph; it's like he tore a page out of "Nick Coleman's Rules for Writing."

I encourage you to read the rest of his self-righteous and indignant diatribe, if for no other reason because it's hysterical in its pretentiousness.