Dylan Bolin

I want names!  I want the names of the cloying, Über-parents that complained about the viral YouTube video, “David After Dentist.”

You’ve seen it; it’s the one where a parent records his kid in the back seat of the car when the kid is still loopy from anesthetic after a trip to the dentist.  I’d link to it, but the video became so popular that it was purchased, copyrighted and will soon be sold, I’m sure, but you can still find it in a search.

Anyway, certain parents found it objectionable because it was “exploitative,” recording a child like that, especially because they also thought that it mirrored, and therefore glamorized, the effects of certain drugs.  And the only reason they knew it existed is because it was HILARIOUS!

Look, I’m all for child welfare; children are better than adults.  They’re unspoiled by the life that crushed us; the same life that we continually try to foist upon them.  And they are innocents.

That being said, if you can’t record your kid being HILARIOUS, i.e. doing something that could ultimately result in pain and humiliation, Your Honor, what’s the point of having kids in the first place?  If not for clumsy, loopy, frightened, confused children, America’s Funniest Home Videos wouldn’t exist.  (By the way, according to A.F.H.V., this also works well for the elderly.)  I’ll admit, watching the show, there were many times that my wife and I, together, yelled:  “Put down the camera and save your child!” as he accidentally rode his Big Wheel down a flight of stairs, but the family won $10,000 so everything worked out!

I love A.F.H.V.; it’s a guilty pleasure.  I will always laugh at the sight of a large woman caught in a tire swing while her fleshy breasts act like the barb of a fish hook.  Always.

I’ll tell you what makes ”David After Dentist” so funny:  It’s because, at some point, we’ve all awkwardly sat across from David’s grown-up doppelganger at a party of some kind.  In fact, if David were talking about the Illuminati or the Tri-Lateral Commission, he would have been my buddy Doug, twelve years ago, in our apartment on the lower East side of Milwaukee.

Now, if someone is thinking of trying to catch this video lightning in a bottle themselves by placing their child in any kind of harm’s way, those parents should be prosecuted, but let’s just leave this one alone.  It’s a hilarious flower pushing through a crack in the concrete of our aging guilt.

Thank you David and David’s dad.  I look forward to your many television appearances in the near future and your inclusion in a VH1 special ten years from now.

-Dylan

Hello friends.  As you know if you follow this Blog, I’ve been writing a lot about the economy and Wall Street practices lately and that can get a little tedious.  So today, I’m still going to write about the economy, but this time, with the addition of condoms. 

As you know, the U.S. Government is spending billions of dollars to stave off massive unemployment.  That’s why I find it shocking that the U.S. Agency for International Development has chosen to outsource the manufacture of AIDS-preventing condoms for distribution in Africa and other impoverished areas in need.  (Please note that, if you are Catholic, your Pope has stated that condoms actually make the AIDS epidemic worse…and Cottage Cheese is unicorn blood.  Hey, he’s your guy.)

The U.S.A.I.D. is ending production of said condoms in the Alatech factory in Alabama, U.S.A., and ordering condoms from Unidis Corp. of South Korea (World Baseball Classic Championship Runner-Up due in no small part to their brisk, condom-based economy) and Qingdao Double Butterfly Group (coincidentally, also the name of my new Chamber Music Quartet) of China.

This decision will likely put 300 condom-making Americans out of work, and for what?  A savings of 3 lousy cents per condom (2 cents outsourced vs. 5 cents American).  Never mind that, due to shoddy, off-shore construction, these foreign condoms need to be secured with staples (not included).  Folks, I know that you’re as outraged as I am, and we have to find a way to put these good (clearly Protestant) condom cobblers back to work at their…machines? 

I just realized that I have no idea how condoms are made; Mr. Rogers never covered it.  And did he have a condom factory in his Neighborhood?  If so, I’ll bet that Mr. McFeely had a hand in it.  C’mon:  “McFeely’s Condoms:  No More Speedy Deliveries.”  You know you’d buy them.

And maybe that’s the key to keeping Alabama’s condoms coming; a little more bang for the buck (or in this case, 5 cents).  Here are a couple reservoir tips for maintaining American condom jobs:

• Sponsors.  Defray some of the costs by allowing companies like Ford to advertise on the side.
• Promotions.  Include a Golden Condom in every shipment.  The lucky recipient gets a tour of Willy Wanker’s Condom Factory.
• Novelty.  Print decidedly American images on the condoms like the Washington Monument or a Tomahawk Missile.

These are just a couple ideas and feel free to include your own.  Friends, we have to support the American worker in every way that we can.  Sure, we can talk a good game, but where the rubber meets the road, we need to put our condom money where our collective mouth is.

-Dylan

What is “Selling Short?”  I’m so glad that you didn’t ask.  Selling short is the method that traders use to make money in a bear market. 

Perhaps you’ve heard the terms “Bear Market” and “Bull Market” before.  If you have, but still have no clue what it means, a “Bull” market is when the market is rising, like for instance when it’s being artificially inflated by manipulation and greed.  A “Bear” market is when the market is falling, like for instance when we turn the lights on and the roaches scatter off the N.Y.S.E. trading floor and then park their millions in tax-free, off-shore accounts in the Cayman Islands. 

If you want a handy little way to remember which is which, think of it in terms of how the animals attack.  A bull lunges upwards with his horns and a bear swipes downward with his claw.   

Now you may think that the way to make money in the stock market is to buy low and sell high like you learned in a basic economics class.  Buy a hundred shares of a stock at $10 per share, sell them at $12 (”Bullish”) and you have $200 (minus commisions, fees and taxes).  By contrast, if those same shares drop to $8 per share (”Bearish”), you just lost $200.  Well that sucks!

If only there were a way to profit off of your loss.  So some very bright guys found a way to make money even when the stock market tanked and they called it “Selling Short.”  Allow me to illustrate:

Let’s say that, instead of betting that a stock will rise, you’d like to bet that the stock will fall (a pretty safe bet in a market like this, wouldn’t you say?).  Using the example above, a short seller will borrow 100 shares of the stock at $10 per share with the promise to buy them at a later time.  They then sell the borrowed stock at the current value and now they have $1000.  But remember, they promised to actually buy the stocks later.  Then, WHOOPEE!, the stock price drops to $8 per share.  This seems like a good time to pay for them, doesn’t it?  And so the short seller pays for them out of his $1000.  But, because he only has to pay $800 for the hundred shares he promised to buy, he makes a cool $200 off the $200 you lost.

Why should this piss you off while you open the envelope containing the smoldering remains of your 401K?

Short selling is not a neutral bet; like simply choosing heads or tails in a coin flip.  While the market may fall naturally (Pop Quiz:  Falling market, bull or bear?), the practice of Short Selling is, after all, selling, which drives stock value down (the profitable direction for the short seller, by the way).  In essence, short selling straps a jet pack to the decline, (what could be scarier than a bear with a jet pack?) and because people are profiting (not you, of course, but somebody), from the standpoint of the short seller, there’s no reason to stop it. 

In conclusion, all that money that flew out of your pockets as you screamed down the latest hill of the Economic Roller Coaster wound up in someone else’s bank account.

Just thought you might want to know.  Oooo!  Gotta go; American Idol is on!

-Dylan

It looks like we’ve finally turned the corner.  Spring has sprung and the men are sprouting antlers (as if they needed something to make them even less attractive to their quarry).

Fellas, if you plan on going out on the town and Tom Cattin’ anytime soon, you’d do well to do so sporting my brand new fragrance called Desperation!  It’s guaranteed!

Here’s the audio commercial:  Desperation!

Thanks to Stacey Meyer and Matt Tremmel for their assistance and, of course, WKLH Dave and Carole Morning Show Producer Marcus Allen for his production prowess.

Happy Hunting!

-Dylan

A couple days ago, I wrote a Blog regarding amazon.com’s release of the Kindle 2.  My feeling was that, while it was a fine technology, was anybody really clamoring for it?  In the end, I argued that, for me, books were just fine, thank you very much.  It didn’t take long for me to recognize the irony and hypocrisy of making that argument via a Blog on the Internet.  I mean, it’s kind of like going on television with a lecture about the pointlessness of television.  Then I got to thinking about technology and whether we might just have reached the Usefulness Plateau.

Now, when I say ”technology,” I’m referring to the stuff that we all use all the time; not like Stem Cell Research, nanotechnology, etc.  I’m not talking about Science, but rather Consumer Technology like iPhone, iPod, iTunes, My Circle, MySpace and MobileMe.  If you had never heard of these things, you might be able to figure them out because the purpose of these devices is included right there in the name; “I, me, my, mine.”  They are your Consumer Technology avatars.  They are the digital you.

They tout the ability to ”keep you connected,” as if not being connected is quite possibly the worst thing that could happen to you.  Do YOU want to be that last person picked for kickball?  Do YOU want to be the only one not invited to the party because you weren’t ”connected?”

I certainly don’t.  So, curious, I asked a friend if he could give me a tour of his iPhone.  Of course he said it had ”3G speed.”  I asked him what that meant and he said:  “It’s fast.”  Now, having received my CompTIA A+ certification as an I.T. Technician, with the $5,500, unlaminated card in my wallet to prove it, I knew that “3G,” in this case, was referring to transfer rates, and yes, it is fast for wireless.  But it occurred to me that, as far as the consumer was concerned, the ”3G” was all about marketing.  “3G” is to wireless devices as “Cold Filtering” was to beer. 

“Our beer is cold-filtered.”

“Cold-filtered?  I’ve never heard of that before.  Is that good?”

“Oh, it’s good.”

“What exactly is ’Cold Filtering?’”

“Oh, it’s good.”

And, what do you know, it tasted like beer.  And, to this day, I’ve never seen anyone take a swig of beer, spit it out and say:  “Is this beer warm-filtered?”

“And check this out,” my friend said opening one of the many applications.  He pressed a button and the device emitted a loud, digital fart.  “It’s called ‘iFart,’” he said with school boy glee.  Now I love a good fart as much as the next guy, but I can’t say it has ever been a selling point. 

I guess my rhetorical questions are these:  Does Consumer Technology really bring us closer together than ever before, or is it just technology for technology’s sake?  What if we weren’t connected 24/7?  What if “MySpace” was simply the area around me?  And while we’re capable of sharing all of these experiences, does the actual “Shared Experience” exist any more?

I mentioned it at the top, and I think it bears repeating:  Though this rambling manifesto may make me sound like a cranky, old Luddite, I love most of the advances in Consumer Technology.  I’m no Henry David Thoreau and we’re not having this discussion at Walden Pond, so I’m clearly a consumer of Technology.  But I think we’re beginning to experience the Law of Diminishing Returns.  Like texting.

“With this phone, you can also send text messages.”

“Why would I write them a message when I can call them?”

“What if you’re in a situation where it would be rude to place a call like, say, a movie or a restaurant or a play?”

“If it’s rude to make a call, isn’t it rude to text?”

“What if you just wanted to send them a message but didn’t want to talk?”

“Isn’t that what email is for?”

(Pause)

“This phone farts.”

“Sold!”

-Dylan

I’ve never told this to anyone, but I like to read.  As a clever little fat kid, sometimes books were the only friends I had.  And other times those friends were Waffle-O’s Cereal.  I’m serious.  “Waffle-O’s.”  And clearly, based on the box, eating Waffle-O’s was like eating gold.  So I guess it was okay to be fat; I was rich!

And when it was time to move all of those books, I packed them in a 36” television box.  When I tried to lift the box, the bottom exploded and I removed a sleeve of cardboard from around a Jenga Tower of dead friends.  Even when they weren’t forming a cube in the middle of my living room, they still found a way to take up more than a little space.    

Anyway, amazon.com has recently released their Kindle 2:  The second version of their attempt to make reading easier by making reading digital.  Now, let me pause to say that I love amazon.com.  It gives me exactly what I want the minute I want it.  And, in that respect, it’s the greatest virtual bookstore in the world. 

That is not to say that actual bookstores don’t have their place.  During my younger years, even if the bookstores didn’t have the book that I was looking for, I always enjoyed the ones they had.  And wouldn’t it be great if amazon.com and local bookstores could co-exist.

If you’re interested, here are the Kindle 2 vitals: 

“It’s Just over 1/3 of an inch thick.

It’s Lightweight: At 10.2 ounces it’s lighter than a typical paperback.

3G wireless lets you download books right from your Kindle, anytime, anywhere; no monthly fees, service plans, or hunting for Wi-Fi hotspots.

Books in Under 60 Seconds: Get books delivered in less than 60 seconds; no PC required

Improved Display: Reads like real paper; now boasts 16 shades of gray for clear text and even crisper images

Longer Battery Life: 25% longer battery life; read for days without recharging

More Storage: Take your library with you; holds over 1,500 books

Faster Page Turns: 20% faster page turns

Read-to-Me: With the new text-to-speech feature, Kindle can read every newspaper, magazine, blog, and book out loud to you, unless the book is disabled by the rights holder

Large Selection: Over 240,000 books plus U.S. and international newspapers, magazines, and blogs available

Low Book Prices: New York Times Best Sellers and New Releases $9.99, unless marked otherwise”

With the Kindle 2, I won’t have books lying all over the house.  And I can take 1,500 books with me on vacation.  But here’s the thing:  I kind of like books lying all over the house.  And if you require more than 1 book to make it through your vacation, it’s really not a vacation, is it? 

A bunker.  Now that’s a good place have 1,500 books in a very small space. 
         
So while it may be perfect for Bunker Readers, I don’t think the Kindle 2 is going to inspire anyone else to start reading more.  The die has sort of already been cast, hasn’t it? If you’re already a reader, you’re probably fine with the current system.  If you’re not already a reader, I don’t think the ability to effortlessly carry around 1,500 books is necessarily going to make you read any of them.

All that being said, if the Kindle 2 is interested in publishing blogs, allow me to be the first to kneel before our new Master.

-Dylan

Here’s a commercial for The First Bank of Flatbush

Thanks to Marcus Allen of 96.5/WKLH Milwaukee for the production and the Dave and Carole morning show for the medium.

-Dylan

They’re just never right, are they?  I’m, of course, referring to our area meteorologists.  Oh sure, they’re great at telling you what it’s doing right now.  Heck, they’re even good at looking up the records and telling you what the weather was like on this date in 1910, but they’re still painfully inadequate at predicting the future.

I say this after watching last night’s ”The Local News At 9,” ”The 10 O’clock News” and “The What the Hell, We’re All Here Anyway; Let’s Do Another One at 10:30 News.”  Never mind that we really don’t need that much news (for God’s sake, it’s the local news, not the show schedule for The Osmonds in Branson, Missouri), but each version had the same forecast:  “One to  three inches of lake effect snow.”  Needless to say, this morning, my wife and I woke up to fourteen inches. 

Obviously, our meteorologist couldn’t say:  “Overnight, you can expect anywhere from one to fourteen inches of snow,” because that’s no prediction at all.  That’s like saying:  “Overnight, you can expect anything from a good night’s sleep to a Yeti breaking into your home and holding your family hostage until your three-year-old son convinces him that you just want to be friends, and you stay up the rest of the night playing Pictionary until the morning when, to your surprise, you find that the Yeti is very good at making omelets.  After a tearful farewell, the moment he exits your house, the Yeti is shot by local authorities, and your story becomes a Lifetime Movie of the Week, but the producers get the story all wrong and it becomes little more than a tragic version of Harry and the Hendersons.  And now here’s Steve ‘Ballz’ Johansen with Sports.”  

And it’s not fair to blame your local meteorologist entirely.  I mean, our expectations are irrational.  We care so much about the forecast that every half-hour local news broadcast devotes fifteen minutes to the weather.  With tools like “Doppler,” “Viper” and “Psychic John Edward,” the meteorologist attempts to perfect the forecast such that you’ll know the difference in precipitation from your front yard to the back.  (By the way, to prevent infection, always go from front to back.)  The lesson here is that weather (Nature) couldn’t care less what our shaman meteorologists think or say.

By the same token, our meteorologists have set themselves up for greater scrutiny when they decided to call themselves “meteorologists.”  When I was a kid in Indiana, we had ”the Weatherman.”  He was a goofy character who revealed his predictions by tossing rubberized magnets up on a metal-ish representation of the state.  He was also content to give his predictions by way of percentages.  If he wasn’t quite sure if it was going to rain, he’d tell us that there was a 20% chance.  Even if it was currently raining cats and dogs (or, as we like to say in Indiana:  “cats and Drive-Thru Liquor Stores”), he would still hedge his bets by saying that there was an 80% chance, just in case there was an area within the sound of his voice where it wasn’t raining. 

My point is that this method worked just fine for us.  Even in third grade, with little or no idea of what a percentage was, thanks to our local Weatherman, we were still able to formulate a general idea of what to expect.  If he said there was an 80% chance of one to five inches of snow, we intrinsically planned on four.  We didn’t know we were doing math, but such was the genius of the Weatherman.

And during the banter at the end of the newscast, the anchors used to tease the “weatherman,” stopping just short of giving him a Wedgie and a Dutch Rub.  Now, with a “meteorologist” sitting at the desk, the anchors preen and fawn like they’ve just received an audience with the Dali Lama.  While “meteorologist” might be more conducive to picking up a spicy little number at the local singles bar than “weatherman,” it carries with it a certain power, and with that power comes responsibility. 

If you want us to believe that you’re creating the weather like a Voodoo Prince by slaughtering chickens, dipping pins in the blood and sticking them into the weather map, then I’m sorry to say that you’re going to have to be a little more accurate.  Or, you can say you’re just a weatherman and let us give you an ”Indian Burn” before we go out to shovel.

-Dylan