Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Cover Yourself Up, You’re Not Decent

So a while back, some other bloggers properly mocked all the repetitive write-ups about Phil Cooley and Slow’s BBQ. I figured that topic was already covered, and that some of the pseudo-journalists would feel embarrassed about rehashing what’s already been discussed to death. Apparently not. Huffington Post had to go draw from the same overused well all over again. Phil Cooley is the greatest person of the day? For fucking Christ's sakes…

Hey Phil, you know what you have in common with these people?
You’re all overexposed, and everyone is tired of hearing about you. Even Paris Hilton got the hint after a while, and decided to not chase after the limelight so much.

For all the journalists and pseudo-journalists (I'm looking at you, Charlie LeDuff), who might come across this posting by accident, there are a few things you should consider before you hand in another derivative write-up about Phil Cooley. First of all, being on seven advisory boards really isn’t that noteworthy. Chances are, Phil probably isn’t saying anything revolutionary, and the only thing potential entrepreneurs need to hear that they haven’t already been told a dozen times already is “Here is how you convince banks to give you a business loan…”. So unless Detroit’s economy can be saved by learning how to do the magnum pose, don’t glorify his presence on seven advisory boards.
"You can totally get the bank to give you a business loan by giving them the magnum pose"
"I taught Phil Cooley everything he knows"
Furthermore, stop using Slow’s BBQ as an example of urban renaissance. Slow’s BBQ is an outlier. In the field of statistics, an outlier is the most extreme observation, one that deviates markedly from other members of the sample in which it occurs. Slow’s BBQ did not kick-start a wave of successful businesses investment in the Corktown neighborhood. Anyone remember the Mercury Coffee Bar across the street from Slow’s? How long did that stay open for? Two days? Any activity on the “GOLD CASH GOLD” building a few doors down from Slow’s? How about the CPA Building across the other street? Anything going on at all on Michigan Avenue west of the train station? Did the rumor that people have been hearing for several years about a Slow's takeout location in Cass Corridor ever amount to anything more than a fart in the wind? The only visible development to happen as the result of Slow's BBQ's success has been a new parking lot between the building that housed the Mercury Coffee Bar, and the vacant Roosevelt Hotel building.
It’s nice to see that Torya Blanchard and her business Good Girls Go To Paris managed to get a little press coverage in between Phil Cooley write-ups. I’m not entirely sure what the hell a crepe is supposed to be, but so long as someone doesn’t tell me that it’s going to be an hour and a half wait to get a table, just for the sake of making your place look like the hottest thing ever (the wait is never actually that long at Slow’s), I might be willing to find out.
Having a somewhat recognizable pretty girl walk in at just the right time in that video is a little schmaltzy, but so long as I don’t have to hear about Blanchard every other day, I wish her the best of luck. And if she needs someone to do the driving as she throws unsold crepes at Slow’s front door, I’m totally in.

Friday, November 19, 2010

MIrror, Mirror

How crazy and fucked up would it be if someone with your face was out there doing awful things? All doppelgangers know that if they're going to do evil things in our reality, the Doppelganger Code requires that they do so while wearing a goatee. Case in point:


That's the reason I'm so surprised that a guy who looks a lot like Tait Nucleus from Electric Six forgot about the goatee rule before he went onto chatroulette.com and started using some of the worst pickup lines ever.



Now if that guy ever runs into the real Tait Nucleus he's going to become terrified and think that Tait wants to see his junk. Not cool, guy who looks a lot like Tait Nucleus, not cool.