From the Green Room: F U, FCC

The 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Manhattan threw out the 2004 Federal Communications Commission policy that imposed fines on broadcasters for allowing even a single curse word to go out over the air.  In their 2004 policy, the FCC prohibits all “patently offensive” references to sex, sexual organs, and excretion. The court decision maintains the policy is unconstitutionally vague and effectively “chills speech,” forcing “self-censorship of valuable material which should be completely protected under the First Amendment.”

 
It seems to me the real question isn’t what the FCC finds patently offensive; it’s figuring out their definition of “valuable material.”   

There’s a huge difference between airing the great George Carlin’s legendary “7 Words You Can’t Say On TV” bit, and some Wacky Morning Zoo’s Ca Ca Poo Poo skit. Yet, in theory, both should be protected under the First Amendment. I’m more concerned about the definition of “chill speech.”  Is that just a codeword for censorship?  Or is it the kind of talk that gives you goose bumps when you hear it?  And if it’s the latter, is it the tactile sensation you experience when you are titillated? Or when you’re cringing from revulsion?

 
The heart of the court’s decision is the argument that the FCC does not give any real guidelines as to what they prohibit, just a ubiquitous Justice Potter Stewart style “I know it when I see it” rationale.  Which, once again, brings us back to the genius of Carlin, and his brilliant observation, “You can prick your finger, but you can’t finger your…” well, you know.  It’s all about context, certainly, but fines have also been levied for what was considered to be too many sexual references.  Unfortunately, though the FCC maintains that profanity referring to sex or excrement is always indecent, there’s no record as to the number of on air “penis” mentions they allow, which prohibits the bargaining aspect of negotiating the fine print: “Okay, we’ll cut two ‘Johnsons’ and a ‘boner’ if you let us keep the joke about the bear and the rabbit going to the bathroom in the woods.”

With the court’s dismissal of the FCC policy, networks like MTV will no longer be punished financially when some Hollywood Phony like that racquetball goggle-wearing Bono drops the F-Bomb during a live awards ceremony. Nor will your local Wacky Morning Zoo team for their ‘Ca Ca Poo Poo’ skit.

If only there was a Federal Comedy Comission who could fine them for not being funny.

From the Green Room: The Tan Tax

SnookiAs if President Obama’s Health Care Plan didn’t have enough detractors, you can add two more, high profile names to the list:  “Snooki” and “The Situation”.   

The Prince and Princess of Guido Royalty, the breakout stars of MTV’s  mega-hit “Jersey Shore, and two of the most egregious examples of “celebrities” who are WAY past their Andy Warhol 15 minutes do not support the plan because of one of the tariffs imposed within:  a ten percent tax on tanning booths.

For those of you who have spent the last 16 months in a cave with mushrooms and are thus unaware of who these two “personalities” are, Snooki is the somewhat ‘Rubenesque’ (read: busty and fat) young woman whose hair bump is second only the one stuffed in her short shorts, and who professed to Meghan McCain that her role model was Tori Spelling, Mother Teresa of the Vapid. “The Situation” is the young man who The "Situation"eschews Mensa meetings in favor of trips to the gym, yet is the quintessential American Success story.  He went from being an exotic dancer to a clothing designer, an author, a hip hop artist, and a household name merely by parlaying his abs into a cottage industry.

It makes sense that these two mouth-breathing morons’ opinions would be sought on the hot button topic, given its place of reverence in their daily lives. Tanning is the cornerstone of “The Situation’s” philosophy of life (Gym, Tanning & Laundry), and Snooki sports a year-round bronze hue second only to that of Pat O’Brien’s Tang glow.

The most disturbing thing is that their take was actually solicited in the first place. Given the train-wreck aspect of “Jersey Shore,” it’s not surprising that these two have become pop culture icons, but why they have been elevated to political pundit status is mind-boggling. Next thing you know, the brain trust at the Army Corps of Engineers will be tapping their expertise to come up with a solution to cap the BP oil well.  

Even with their considerable media clout, it’s doubtful that the Dynamic D-Bag Duo will mount a grassroots Ronni, another genius from "Jersey Shore"movement strong enough to defeat the 10% Tan Tax. They might, however, just have something to offer to help end the disaster in the gulf.  

The surest way to get rid of the oil?  That’s easy.

Fist pump.

From the Green Room: Mel Gibson

nice outfitOne thing you can say about Mel Gibson: the guy sure knows how to drink.

You have to appreciate someone who can pound Maker’s Mark, and not waste a perfectly good buzz by passing out. Because for entertainment value, there’s just nothing better than an angry drunk.  

Everybody remembers his anti-Semitic rant from a few years ago, complaining about how “the Jews” are responsible for all the wars in the world.  Well, it’s been awhile since Ol’ Whiskey Lips got off on another racist tangent, but just when you thought it was going to be a slow news week, here he comes, with a rape threat to his Russian ex-girlfriend, in which he uses the N-word,

Guess he’ll be withdrawing his bid to be Grand Marshall of the Brotherhood Week parade.   

Which is a shame, seeing as how he’s given the Jews and the Blacks something upon which they can finally build a bond of unity and harmony: a mutual loathing and disgust for him.  Not even LeBron could have done that. In Cleveland.

The latest revelation is that Mel used the pejorative, racist term “wetback” to describe one of his Hispanic staff members. At the rate he’s going, the only ethnic group he won’t have offended will be the Amish, and that’s only because they can’t get TMZ.  
What do you think is going on in his dark, fetid mind?  “Hey, I got a good idea…my last movie was a thundering turd, why don’t I alienate what’s left of my already virtually non-existent fan base?”

It’s just a shame Sammy Davis Junior isn’t still with us to take part in Lethal Weapon 5.

Because Danny Glover’s character Murtagh sums up the zeitgeist of the world when it comes to Mel, with the quote he’s used in all four Lethal Weapon Movies:

“I’m too old for this s***!”

From the Green Room: Killer Salads

From “The Daily Beast,” Tina Brown’s very fine website, comes some either very troubling or incredibly liberating culinary news this morning, depending upon your personal perspective: 

Salad can kill you.

For those who are attempting to eat healthier, this is a considerable, comestible blow.  For the rest of us who always suspected that if God wanted us to subsist on lettuce he would have made us all rabbits, this is, finally, some vindication.

If you seek sustenance from Applebee’s Pecan Crusted Chicken Salad, you will ingest 1340 calories.  You could, however, save 20 calories, and put them in the metabolic hopper for another time, by simply lunching upon Hardee’s Monster Thickburger, which taps out at only 1320.  Granted, there are 19 fewer milligrams of fat and 400-plus fewer milligrams of sodium in the salad, but the fact remains that greens aren’t always the better choice.

remember this guy?For example: Let’s say you have sworn off red meat, and have decided to make only fish and poultry your proteins of choice.  You can stay with the chicken, and STILL do better than the Applebee’s Salad by eating two (TWO!) KFC Double Downs, the Holy Grail of Fast Food Sandwiches, which use a pair of fried chicken breasts as the “bun” to deliver its cheese and bacon payload.  At 540 calories apiece, they’re damn near health food compared to the pecan-crusted roughage that is offered by America’s “Neighborhood Grill.” Plus, they’re only 80 mg more sodium each. 

But if you’re going to “go there,” and have already decided that it’s only an additional 15 minutes on the elliptical machine to cover 200 extra calories, then you may as well go for the new burger at a Lebanese restaurant in Astoria, Queens, here in New York.  They have put a Quarter Pound Bacon Cheeseburger on their menu, served on a halved, grilled, sugar-glazed donut. 

Cheeseburger DoughnutThis bears repeating.

They have put a Quarter Pound Bacon Cheeseburger on their menu, served on a halved, grilled, sugar-glazed donut.

Besides rendering your blood flow to the consistency of chocolate mousse, this burger is its own daily food allotment, even for the most calorically generous of diets. However, to its credit, it features turkey bacon in place of the non-halal friendly swine version.

Unfortunately, it does not yet have a name.

I submit the obvious:

The Widowmaker

Now THAT’S good eatin’.

From the Green Room: Lohan to the Slammer

It’s three hundred degrees outside, the oil spill continues to befoul the Gulf Coast, the economy still looks like Max Schmeling in that second bout with Joe Louis, and yet what is today’s headline? Lindsay Lohan got sentenced to 90 days in the slammer.  

America’s Favorite Train Wreck will be remanded to Century Regional Detention Center in Lynwood, California, segregated from the general jail population, but will likely serve just 22 days or so due to the overcrowding in L.A. jails. And it will be in an all female facility, a situation which, for Ms. Lohan, would be akin to Kirstie Allie living in the all-you-can-eat breakfast bar at Hometown Buffet. Not exactly like Papillon serving life in the Bastille, but that’s what you get for never meeting a highball you didn’t like, and then insisting on driving home after slamming a quart of Jaeger.

What I don’t understand is why so many celebrities wind up with DUI raps. The I-Man’s drug and alcohol use in the 70’s and 80’s is legendary, and yet he never ONCE got arrested for driving under the influence. You know why? HE ALWAYS TRAVELS BY LIMO.  What’s the point in being a famous person if you don’t ACT in the manner associated with BEING a famous person?  What’s the allure of taking your own ride down to the Ivy for mojitos?  Hollywood studios and broadcast television networks hand out star perks such as chauffeur driven stretches like they were needles at a methadone program.  That’s why God invented folks like Brant Eaton, Imus’s trusty driver for almost thirty years.  Being the only person sitting in the back of a 60-passenger black Coupe DeVille isn’t just a Quadruple E-sized carbon footprint. It’s the ultimate status symbol for why celebrities are not like the rest of us plebian, bourgeoisie underlings. They DESERVE preferential treatment. Which is why poor Lindsay is, understandably, so upset that her A-List status didn’t cut any mustard with the judge.  

She has been ordered to attend an additional 90 days of rehab as part of her sentence, since she didn’t take the court-ordered alcohol education classes that were part of her original conviction. One would think, given her demonstration of how to set off a alcohol-monitoring ankle bracelet at the MTV Movie Awards after party, that she requires no further instruction on how to drink.  But then again, I don’t pretend to understand the “nuances of the court system,” which was the excuse her lawyer used to explain why she was prone to the “missteps” that got her sentenced in the first place.

Like the nightlife listings in the New Yorker maintain, just as “musicians and night-club proprietors live complicated lives,” so do wastes of Hollywood human protoplasm.  Apparently, Lohan skipped her rehab sessions due to flight problems at a North Carolina Airport; her Uncle’s funeral (which she neglected to attend); and her charity work with Moroccan children.  

Hasn’t this poor woman suffered enough?

In a word?

No.