What’s in my bag? Grievances!
The Nicole Kidman AMC Pre-Roll
Enough. Manufactured camp is not camp.1 See the failures of the 2019 Met Gala. You’re not special for finding it odd and sort of funny. Moreover, inside jokes are not funny if based upon a false insularity: the ad has its own Wikipedia page, plus GQ, Variety, and Vanity Fair articles, plus references on SNL and at the Oscars.
Earlier this year, I was at a show where it was played as part of a general nostalgic discussion of theater pre-rolls. Someone in the audience stood up and saluted with vigor, and I closed my eyes, but not fast enough. I can still see them in my mind’s eye, trying so desperately to be the class clown, the hosts’ favorite. Pain! And then I feel guilty for being cruel. Fury!
HGTV’s Barbie Dreamhouse Challenge
Checked it out because we were on a Property Brothers kick; we watched the Ty Pennington episode. Bad, awkward, desperate show. The “fan submissions,” in particular, reminded me of trying to find “scholarships” on Fastweb as a high school student and slowly realizing that general-application scholarships for U.S. undergraduate studies don’t actually, for the most part, exist — only content marketing spec assignments and “no-essay” sweepstakes preying on vulnerable teenagers. Gina Rodriguez would have you bow before McDonald’s and Coca-Cola, forehead to the floor, hands out, palms up. I clearly resent the humiliation still.
A year or two ago, I watched the 1980s Anne of Green Gables TV miniseries with my kindred spirit friend An. One of many scenes that broke my heart and reminded me of how much I loved those books as a child: Diana, meaning well, submits a (bad) short story of her friend Anne’s to the Rollings Reliable Baking Powder Company contest, where it wins. The trouble is, Diana had taken the liberty of editing the story before submission, without Anne’s knowledge or agreement.
“Why, Anne, you don't seem a bit pleased!” she exclaimed.
Anne instantly manufactured a smile and put it on.
“Of course I couldn't be anything but pleased over your unselfish wish to give me pleasure,” she said slowly. “But you know — I'm so amazed — I can't realize it — and I don't understand. There wasn't a word in my story about — about —” Anne choked a little over the word — “baking powder.”
“Oh, I put that in,” said Diana, reassured. “It was as easy as wink — and of course my experience in our old Story Club helped me. You know the scene where Averil makes the cake? Well, I just stated that she used the Rollings Reliable in it, and that was why it turned out so well; and then, in the last paragraph, where PERCEVAL clasps AVERIL in his arms and says, ‘Sweetheart, the beautiful coming years will bring us the fulfilment of our home of dreams,’ I added, ‘in which we will never use any baking powder except Rollings Reliable.’”
“Oh,” gasped poor Anne, as if some one had dashed cold water on her.
“And you’ve won the twenty-five dollars,” continued Diana jubilantly. “Why, I heard Priscilla say once that the Canadian Woman only pays five dollars for a story!”
Anne held out the hateful pink slip in shaking fingers.
In searching for the above excerpt, I’m troubled that some people seem interested in viewing this incident on predictable selling-out discourse terms, with an implied sneer for Anne’s perceived arrogance and impracticality. What, she thinks she’s better than money? Serves her right. Obviously not! Leave her alone! Seek treatment!
Essentialist TikToks
Sorry to be a total harpy, but I am on a sisyphean mission to removal all categorical statements from my life and FYP.2 “Girls with bangs —” “J names —” “Orange cats —”
The orange cat thing really, really gets me. See also “tortitude.” I actually won’t dignify that with argument. Same with these inane “tests” to prove that “all men think they can land a commercial plane,” “all men think about the Roman Empire.” Same with the “boyfriend air” and “girlfriend effect” garbage. I see we’re determined to just regurgitate “a woman’s touch” and “a woman’s intuition” and hope it feels less misogynist, or less cynical, on the rebrand.
People are just having a laugh, Som-Mai!
Well, but must I? None of it’s funny! Shut up! Shut up!! SHUT UP!!!!
Athlete Nicknames
This brings me to inorganic individual marketing and how it gives me the chills of food poisoning.
I’ve flung myself into the canyon of motorsport because my partner got into it.3 The timing is such that, in light of recent sad events, I now will find myself on the floor, seeping tears and scrolling dead-eyed through literal hours of F1 extracurricular content. One more Grill the Grid will fix things, just one more. Slideshows of Hamilton and Alonso over the decades? Favorite Kimi interview moments? Alex Albon chitchatting with a YouTuber over Korean food? Fine. I am excited for the Singapore GP to a degree unsettling to me.
One particular TikTok, though, has been plaguing me. Someone, gun behind camera, is asking the Ferrari drivers to introduce themselves and “their nicknames.” One dazzlingly wealthy, good-looking young man mumbles, ‘Charles Leclerc, and my nickname is Lord Perceval’; the other, ‘Carlos Sainz, Smooth Operator.’
I don’t recall having ever been so upset at being caused secondhand embarrassment, least of all through people who have zero reason to be embarrassed, popular and successful as they are. They’re two of my favorite drivers on the grid! But it’s one thing for WWE characters to have Names, another to actually smell the sweat of some poor agent or publicist or social media manager trying to work up an offhand comment into a salable lather, A Thing to plaster all over a real person just because he hummed it once on the radio.
I’m not picking on F1. “Black Mamba,” for instance, is a horrible nickname. And acceptable, even great, sports nicknames, obviously do exist — e.g., Satchel, Pistol, Babe, Air — but the science does not exist to fabricate them synthetically.
It’s giving “National Avocado Day,” “Acne Positivity Day,” “World Ampersand Day”! A nickname has to be something people could actually call you. And frankly, I care more about whether it sounds usable than whether it actually is; this is perhaps unreasonable, but none of this matters, so why should I be reasonable? Three syllables, tops. I recognize, for instance, that Ricciardo apparently embraced the “Honey Badger” business, but what about my personal bugbears? Won’t anyone think of me? 😤
I don’t have the link, naturally, because I refuse to cite anything off the clock. Even if I wanted to, I can’t find it again. Did I actually dream this video that might not exist and wake up mad at it? I don’t know, and it’s not my problem. 😇
Bad things have always existed, and God bless, always will, but until I feel human again, I’m cashing in on my right to take them all personally.
My love and the truth of this essay notwithstanding.
Poor, longsuffering guy made the similar error earlier this year of introducing me to Disney Emoji Blitz, which has now become my career.