Shyzer.com

NOTE: I recently found an old article I wrote for Circle of Jerks almost two years ago. It’s a bit mean, but then again it was for a site where the domain name proudly proclaims the authors are Jerks I found it funny, I remember it being pretty fun, if not a change in pace, to write and since it’s no longer on-line over on Stan’s site (slacker!), I thought I’d repost it here for any of you who missed it the first time around. Enjoy.

It would be great to say that I waited to write this post until the eve of the release of Star Wars III. It would also be great to say that I then decided to wait until the movie had been out for a week or two before writing this post. Alas, the truth is that Stan mentioned I should write something on this topic, so I decided to pull an Angela and ignore my responsibilities for at least three weeks. In fact, Stan finally got to the point where he no longer expected me to upload this story, so he took me off the “In The Works” list. That’s procrastination at its finest, my friends.

I’ve always viewed myself as a conveyor of information. Any time I’ve ever found something cool or interesting, I like to pass it along to others in an effort to spread around the Great Cup ‘O Knowledge. This is not one of those occasions.

By now, though, you should be saying to yourself, “Goob, just what in the hell are you talking about?” Glad you asked. With the latest release of a Star Wars movie, we’ve all been reminded of one of the most glaring stains on human civilization: the existence of Star Wars nerds, fans, and freaks alike. They come out in droves, shamelessly supporting their idiotic support for a series of movies that they claim “inspire” them to get out of bed every morning. They line up for hours, nay, days before the release of the movie, dressed in full regalia, just so that they can say they saw the first showing in their hometown of Crap Town, USA. They beam as news reporters interview them for their human interest stories on the 6 o’clock news, unwitting to the fact that their interviews remind each and every one of us normal people how lucky we are not to be one of them.

And with the influx of the Internet into our everyday lives, us Normal people are now bombarded with Their websites. You know the types. The ones that carry on twenty page conversations over why Han Solo should have never been able to use a lightsaber in Episode 5. The ones that try to follow Princess Amidala’s wardrobe in an effort to see what kind of “mood” she’s in throughout the movies. Or the ones that try and explain just how a lightsaber works.

I wish I was making this up. However, in the interest of science and making fun of Star Wars Nerds throughout the world, I ventured through the above site and meticulously made fun of it each step of the way. Join me, if you will, in doing the same.

The opening page contains the following introduction: “Chances are that you have seen a lightsaber at one time or another, whether on the evening news or down at the local cantina.” Chances also are that whoever wrote that is still living in his or her – ok, let’s be real here, his – parent’s basement with George Lucas posters on the wall. I spend many a hours at the local cantina and I have seen a drunk 400 pound man eat an entire jar of pickled eggs, a drunk girl make out with four guys at once in the back alley, and this one guy who could swallow a shot glass and regurgitate it with the liquid still in it! Yet I have never seen a lightsaber. Not once.

Buried at the bottom of page 2 is the following: “Lightsabers are only a figment of George Lucas’ imagination, of course. This is an entirely fictional article, based on information in Star Wars movies and books.”

You don’t say! Really!? Nooooooo. I’m shocked, honestly, I am. You mean to tell me they’re not real?! You mean to tell me that hundreds and thousands of thousands of people worldwide devote their time, energy, and lives to studying and writing Internet How Stuff Works Guides about a fictitious movie? I’m flabbergasted. Now if only these people would do the same in realizing that they are wasting their lives and do something productive! I’m sure there are some homeless people down the street that could use some food. Why don’t you people go use The Force and feed them? Or if you want a bigger challenge, I think the continent of Africa could even use some food. Put down that twentieth Twinkie you’re about to eat and airmail it to Rwanda, you loser!

On page three, we are treated to the following image:

Aside from the fact that it looks like the chick is about to be mugged in broad daylight by a Mexican biker, my favorite part of the photo has to his weapon of choice. A tire iron? How does that lady know he was about to mug her? He could have been offering to fix her flat. Stupid whore. Somebody take that fictional lightsaber away from her and banish her from ever appearing on the Internet again. While you do that, I’m gonna go find that Mexican biker because my left rear tire looks a little low on air.

I’m not ever going to talk about the 4th page, which has a detailed picture of the “inner workings” of a lightsaber. I’ll just leave it at this. Somebody, somewhere, actually took the time to not only learn how this made up product “works,” but they also created a photoshop picture of it to share with others. Somebody get this man a Life.

Page 5 greets us with a collection of high tech sounding phrases to make us Normal people feel overwhelmed. Diatium power cells, power vortex rings, crystal energy chambers, arc waves, activation matrixes, virgins who will never be laid, etc. Okay, so maybe I made up that last one, but it should be somewhere on that page, describing those who actually believe in this shit.

Later in the article, I found myself reading that, “A lightsaber completely blows away a can of pepper spray as a deterrent in muggings or robberies.” Really? Because trust me, the next time I go to rob somebody and they pull out a lightsaber to protect them, I’m going to swat away their little PlaySkool toy and get on with my thievery and evilness. A blast of pepper spray might actually put a halt to me trying to steal somebody’s valuables, but a glow-in-the-dark plastic sword is going to only stop me if I fall on the floor laughing at the person.

And humor me here, if you will. Take a look at this picture:

Does this not look exactly like our favorite Mexican Christ Puncher’s member?! This only leads me to believe that he not only felt threatened enough by our overzealous bitch in the first photo to not change her tire, but that he used his tire iron to beat her and steal her lightsaber. Thankfully, he’s putting it to good use trimming hedges and not attacking other would be Good Samaritans, but it makes me wonder. If these lightsabers are so powerful, how come it couldn’t beat an illegal immigrant with a freaking tire iron? Seriously, these Star Wars nerds will spend years pointing out continuity errors in movies, but won’t even take the time to proof read one of their lame articles.

Thankfully, the last page has finally arrived. On it are more “uses” for a lightsaber, but sadly, all I could focus on were the continuity errors they all contained, especially the one where no shadow was displayed on the back wall while the guy heats up his coffee. Oh no – I’ve already started to become one of Them. First off I’m bitching about a poor photoshop job of a lightsaber and the next minute I’ll find myself whining over how Obi-wan Kenobi’s outfit changed from one scene to another in the latest movie. Thankfully, I caught myself in time and can now go back to beating up Star Wars Fans and stealing their lunch money.

They still believe The Force can protect them when in reality, the force from my fist ensures that I’ll be eating this afternoon. On second thought, let’s keep these morons around.

It takes a certain type of show like Battlestar Galactica to leave you with that numbed feeling deep down in your gut even hours after the final scene ended.

Once you sit through an hour of television like that, you don’t just go back and turn on The Daily Show or 24. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Thank you, Ron Moore. You truly are a genius in the midst of a field with far too many hacks.

If you haven’t watched up to the Season 3, Episode 5 of LOST, then please don’t click the “read more of this entry” link below.

I rarely ever vouch for something I have little control over. I don’t like the thought of saying something is great only to turn around later and see it’s total crap. Movies and books are one thing, for if I watch or read one and love it enough to recommend it to people, it’s rarely going to change. No matter how many years later I suggest it, the movie isn’t going to have changed nor will the book have gone through another round of editing. But then you’ve got the oh-so-fickle world of television.

When I first watched LOST, I was excited. Just the general plot was something that I’d imagined about in my brain for years, something that I’d actually begun to write about and ponder turning it into a real story. And then before I knew it, ABC was actually coming out with a show just like the one in my head and I couldn’t wait! And to be fully honest, that first season was dynamite. It was exciting, explosive, mysterious, and fun. I told everybody I knew about it. I stayed up one night in my kitchen, blowing off hanging out at the bars with my friends, to tell my brother all about what he’d missed and why it was so great. I got my dad hooked, my other two siblings, my mom. Anybody who would listen to me, I went on and on about the show.

And now I wish I could go back, tell them that what I saw that first season wasn’t the final product and that if they were smart, they’d stay far, far away from this show.

(more…)

Nothing pleases me more than those random moments in life where you unexpectedly discover something grand and amazing. Whether it be picking the one random bathroom stall where a $10 bill is lying, or having a friend call you up and say he’s got an extra ticket to the ball game tonight, or looking out your window on a random Tuesday and noticing that the hottest chick in the world is in the process of moving into the house across the street. About a week ago, such an event occurred to me. Julianne asked if I wanted to watch The Chronicles of Narnia with her and since I can rarely say no to her, we plopped in front of the TV with a big bowl of popcorn and stuck the DVD in. As the credits began to roll 9 hours later, Juls and I began to talk about what we thought of the movie, but just as we got going we both stopped and turned back to the screen, mesmerized. We sat silent for a minute listening to the song that was playing before it finally gave way to some crappy Alanis Morissette tune. Within 10 minutes I’d Google’d the song, found the artist, and “obtained” it.

I must have listened to that song 100 times within the next 48 hours. Ok, according to my iPod, it was actually only 54. Still, you get my point. But the story doesn’t end there, folks. As I listened to the song, I knew there was something eerily familiar about it. The song was by an artist named Imogen Heap, but the more I listened to it, the more it sounded like Frou Frou. Many of you probably have no idea who Frou Frou is, but back in 2004 one of their songs was not only in the movie Garden State, but was also the song used in all the previews and commercials. In fact, one their songs, Hear Me Out*, is prominently featured in the new I-swear-it’s-coming-one-of-these-days-even-though-I’ve-worked-on-it-for-over-three-years-now section on Shyzer known as Shlyircs. The only reason I tell you any of this is because finally it dawned on me that “Imogen Heap was simply the chick from Frou Frou,” which clearly meant she was now flying solo and hence there was a whole new CD out there just waiting for me to devour.

It was as if I’d picked up that $10 bill only to notice there was an extra zero on the end of all the tens, or the spare ticket my buddy had for the game was a box seat, or as I watched the hot chick move in, I spotted no wedding ring. And yet the story doesn’t even end there.

About a year ago, Blink 182 announced they were going on hiatus, which we all know is the secret word for “breaking up never to return and make new music.” Now, while this may have pleased some people, it was semi-tragic to those of us who loved Blink. Their music wasn’t just soothing; it was a staple in my development and upbringing. In fact, if I were forced to pick my favorite band, Blink would give Collective Soul a run for their money. But to be honest, I wasn’t that worried. Back in 2003, two of the members of Blink branched off on a little side project called Box Car Racer, which was brilliant (and again, even more prominently featured on Shlyrics than Frou Frou.) I held out hope that with Blink on hiatus, they both might return to Box Car and simply take that up full time. But sadly, I read last July that each and every member of Box Car had no desire to return, stating it had simply been a fun little band they had no desire of growing. And with that, I gave up all hope of hearing any new Blink music.

And then three nights ago Clay fell asleep with the TV still on and I randomly turned off my iPod exactly at the right moment. Suddenly, that $100 bill had become $1000. Those box seats were for game 7 of the World Series. The hot chick was not only single, but heavily attracted to me.

As soon as I switched my iPod off and got up to do the same to the TV, I froze. We all know the only time MTV plays music videos is between 1 and 4 AM and seeing as how I was the only person still awake in the house, it’s safe the say it was right around that time frame. It didn’t even take me 10 seconds to identify the voice coming from the TV. It was Tom DeLonge, the singer from Box Car, the singer from Blink. It turns out the reason he had no desire to grow Box Car was simply because he wanted to start yet another bad, one that was bigger and better. And yet as I listened to their music, in my mind, I was listening to a new Blink CD yet again, albeit one that was a little more advanced and mature, both in lyrics and sound. Thankfully the torrents were running well that night and within minutes, I had 12 songs on my desktop by Angels & Airwaves and I must say, I don’t think I’ll be deleting a single one of them.*

It’s not every day that you find $1000 on the floor. Or get free box seats to the World Series. Or get to take a smoking hot neighbor out for dinner. Or in this case, discover some of the best songs since Coldplay’s X & Y album. But in each and every case, you learn to appreciate the random event and thank your deity of choice for delivering such a special treat.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to jam.

* – AVA and Hear Me Out can now be heard on Shyzer Radio

It seems like this time every year one actor turns in a performance worthy of 9000 Emmys and a boatload of hot models. Last year it was Terry O’Quinn from LOST with the episode where you-know-who did you-know-what. This time around, it was John C. McGinley who proved himself to be a man amongst boys with his performance in Scrubs these past two episodes. If his portrayal of Dr. Cox wasn’t enough to sway your soul and draw out a few tears, then you are a heartless robot who should never procreate. Seriously, we have enough trouble with robots as it is, we don’t need your soulless robot babies running around next. I’ve been a huge fan of Scrubs ever since season 2 and if NBC doesn’t renew it for next year, it only goes to show how clueless that network truly is. Thankfully, ABC is waiting with open arms and drooling mouths to snatch up Scrubs, so all is well.

And on a side note, I don’t think any show in recent memory has better used obscure music than Scrubs. I have no idea how many songs from my playlist I first discovered from an episode, but suffice to say I think the cream of the crop was the ending song last week from The Fray titled “How To Save A Life,” which you can conveniently find over on Shyzer Radio.

In 1978, ABC came out with a show that lasted for a grand total of 24 episodes before being yanked. Trying to capitalize on the cult following Star Trek seemed to have; they developed a story set in space about a small group of people who were the only survivors of the human race. The show was also the most expensive show ever created at the time, costing over $1 million dollars per episode. I’ve only seen one episode, thanks to bit torrent, but it’s pretty clear why the show was short lived. It was full of choppy dialogue, abysmal acting, and special effects that seemed as if they were created in somebody’s garage, despite the budget. But to be fair, this was in 1978 and “special effects in 1978″ is a phrase still synonymous with “suckage” and “craptacular.” In 1980, ABC took another shot at it by taking one or two characters from the original show and throwing them in an even futuristic version of its predecessor. It was full of time traveling, kids with superhuman strengths, and robot Nazis and I know this may come as a surprise to many of you, but it only lasted 10 episodes. I mean, I always thought that whenever you had robot Nazis AND superheroes, there was no stopping you. Sadly, I was wrong.

The show was called Battlestar Galactica and as they say, the third time’s a charm.

In 2003, NBC was again looking to fill its lineup and was approached by a group of writers who wanted to remake the old series into a 3-hour miniseries, except with a few twists. And by few twists I mean completely overhauling the series, such as turning the bad guy (who was named Count Baltar. COUNT fucking Baltar. Pure 70s right there, folks) into a quasi-good guy, recasting several key characters from male to female, and basically rewriting and changing the entire script from start to finish. NBC gave it the green light and later that year, it aired with little advance advertising or promotions. You can imagine the network’s shock when critics nationwide loved it and ratings proved it to be the highest-rated cable miniseries of the year. For those of you who missed it, the plot unfolded as such: A group of 12 planets housed the human race and their names ranged from Caprica to Scorpia to Virgon: variations of today’s zodiac signs. We soon learn that 40 years ago, our friends had been involved in a bloody and violent war with the Cylons, a group of machines that had been created to serve the humans, but who eventually rose up and revolted. At the end of the war, a cease fire was signed and the Cylons left to find their own home world. They were never heard from again, life slowly returned to normal, and human society began to revert back to a peacetime environment.

Turns out, that’s what the Cylons wanted. As we watch, they sneak back into the colonies using different models of human androids they’ve created and utterly decimate the planets with nuclear weapons during a surprise invasion, killing everything and anything in their path. A relatively small group of survivors meet up in space and, accompanied by the only military battleship that was able to avoid being destroyed, realize that the war is now over – the humans have lost. Not knowing what to do, the survivors recount an old myth that says when their ancestors first came and founded these colonies, there was actually a 13th group that was sent to a far away planet.

Realizing they have no other choice but to run into the unknown, our rag-tag group of survivors escape one last time from a Cylon attack and head out into the depths of space to find the mythical planet of Earth.

It didn’t take long for the Sci Fi Channel to jump at the opportunity and buy the rights to the story and characters. After seeing how much people loved the new version, they had visions of turning it back into a TV show and in January 2005, 13-trial episodes began to air, picking up right where the 2003 miniseries left off. TIME magazine soon declared it one of the six best drama series on television and the show won an ungodly amount of hardware that would give Desperate Housewives or LOST a run for their money. Season 1 eventually wrapped up on a LOST-esque type cliffhanger, but last night, Season 2 ended on a cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers. There’s no hanging on the cliff anymore, we’ve been kicked right over the edge and sent tumbling into the black abyss. And we have to wait until fucking October for season 3 to start.

If you want a show filled with violence, sex, and car chases, this isn’t for you. Oh, there are plenty of sweet battle scenes and scantily clad babes and hunks, trust me on that. But there’s also so much more. One of the unique aspects of this show is the use of religion and mythology, in both the classic form and with a new twist. The humans believe in a more Greek and Roman system and believe in the multiple Gods of Cobol. The Cylons, a group of robots and human androids remember, actually believe in One God, The God. It’s truly a refreshing twist on things, running against the grain that most shows and movies portray of the godless, evil robots putting the moral humans up against the death wall only to have an act of God spare the humans and save the day. Another nice twist is the Cylons understanding and almost mastery of human emotions. These aren’t just bland toasters, these robots think and feel and have needs of their own. The writers also make use of science fiction to examine contemporary social, moral, and ethical issues in allegory and yet in the midst of all this, they also manage to keep you guessing and on your toes with every episode. Plus it’s nice to see a show that doesn’t run with the “Look how powerful the humans are now!” storyline and instead stick with a “Holy Christ, our race is about to be extinct and we have no idea what we’re doing” theme.

But in the end, the show basically boils down to one thing: Hope. These people have nothing but hope keeping them alive; hope that they can stay ahead of the Cylon army that’s chasing them for just another day, hope that their supplies won’t run out before it’s too late, hope that Earth is something more than just a myth. Hope.

So if you find you have a long weekend (ok, it might take you a full week or two actually) of nothing to do and trust in my judgment of the current Top 10 Shows on Television, head on down to Blockbuster and rent the miniseries / first 2 seasons on DVD. You’ve got until next October and I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Oh yeah, I think I should also go ahead and crown Battlestar Galactica as having the best theme music and opening sequence, possible of all time. They picked the perfect song and clips to depict nothing but absolute despair and desperation and I literally get goose bumps every time I see/hear it.

That’s right, literally.

When American Idol first burst onto the scene four years ago, “thrilled and excited” was not an expression best used to describe my feelings towards it. “Yippee,” I thought to myself, “Another reality based show where teenagers get to sing out of tune! I sure can’t wait for the next version where my local high school drama department is cast for next summer’s alien blockbuster movie!” Sure, I eventually became a fan of Kelly Clarkson, but that wasn’t until about a year ago after she’d graduated from the pony leagues and released some decent stuff. Other than that, the show and I managed to maintain an amicable relationship and all was well.

And then last month, the trap was laid. It started sometime during the trial audition episodes where people sing their hearts and souls out only to be ridiculed, embarrassed, and flee from the building with only a trail of crushed dreams following them. Oh, and the FOX cameramen are there too, because talk about good television! But then this rocker dude sporting some cool facial hair and a wicked cowboy hat walked into the room and caught my attention. And then the little girl named London or Moscow or whatever walked in the room and belted out a Dixie Chicks song that brought back heaps of memories. Before I knew it, some guy with gray hair who looked old enough to be my dad was staring at me through the screen and while he looked to be having a seizure while singing, some wonderful southern soul music was flowing from him and before I knew it, I was watching the Hollywood finals cheering for the few favorites I had.

The Hollywood finals should have been the end of it. I should have seen what was going on and solved the problem right then and there. I should have realized that my arm had been caught in whatever trap had been laid and therefore chewed the limb off in order to save the rest of my body, but that’s not quite what happened. Instead, I figured I was smarter than your average wild animal and that I could use my other free arm to save myself!

Don’t ever let anybody tell you again that animals are stupid.

Yes, thanks to Katharine McPhee’s performance on Tuesday night and Taylor Hicks’ last night, I’ve officially been fully sucked into the vortex of hell that is otherwise called American Idol. [Quick aside, if Katharine ever wants to change her name to Hotty McHot, I fully endorse her decision and will pay the cost of filing the proper paperwork with the courts. Dear Christ, the looks she gives the camera while singing could make the entire gay population of Philadelphia switch sides. Also the fact that Hicks gave three shout outs to his "Soul Patrol" fans on the Internet makes him that much more awesome.] I’d never really listened to Elton John’s Levon before hearing Hicks sing it last night, but let’s just say my iPod has already grown tired of playing it since I stuck it on there about a day ago. The real kicker to proving there’s no turning back for me now is that if you were to look at the outgoing call list on my cell phone, it wouldn’t be a proud moment for me.

I’ve got over a gig of commercials on my hard drive, so you might call me something of a Commercial Aficionado. Everybody makes a big deal over the Superbowl commercials and how expensive / awesomely amazing they are. I’ll concede the expensive aspect of them, but awesomely amazing? I don’t think so. With exception to Apple’s 1984 commercial, most Super Bowl commercials are good only for a few chuckles before being forgotten. Maybe companies try to hard, maybe the expectations for Super Bowl commercials are too high, or maybe advertisers think the average American’s intelligence level is too low to “get” anything above a fart or crotch joke. Luckily for me, however, the Winter Olympics start tonight and with them, some decent commercials.

Yes, for me, I’ll take the commercials during the Olympics over the Super Bowl any day. NIKE and Gatorade always come through with an extraordinary commercial of their own and in fact, my all time favorite commercial was made by NIKE back during the 2002 Winter Olympics. The Super Bowl may be prime real-estate for brainless, crude commercials, but the Olympics are where you can find the poetic and inspirational commercials. Oh yeah, and in-between them there’s usually some weird sporting events you can watch, if that’s what tickles your fancy.

Of course, the ultimate commercial gift for me this month would be another Wintery dose of Kerri Walsh and Misty May. Oh yeah.

Somebody needs to drag The History Channel into the backyard and shoot it in the head with a double barrel shotgun.

Back when our local cable provider first picked it up, it was a big moment in the Geek Department of my life. I was no longer forced to rely upon “books” or “teachers” to learn about history – good ole’ TV could start pumping into my room and I could absorb as much of it as humanly possible before switching over to Comedy Central late at night to catch those hot Girls Gone Wild commercials.

But now? Now my stomach cringes any time I flip over to channel 70. Somewhere along the way, they succumbed to what I call the “24 Hour News Syndrome.” Out with the trash went responsible reporting and actual…oh, what’s the word…facts. In turn, they started airing sensational pieces that are meant to entertain, truth be damned. Gone are the days of airing episodes based on documents and speeches and the like and in are the days of interviewing authors of horribly written books who think they know what they’re talking about because they’re run a blog on the subject for the past 4 years.

I’m guessing they did for the same reason every other network has made the switch – ratings. I can only imagine how few people watched a channel dedicated to nothing but dead people and things that happened 500 years ago. But even with that said, The History Channel took a giant and messy dump on those of us who loved them back in the day and who appreciate that F word I spoke of earlier. Out of the shows I watched this week, I counted somewhere along the lines of 25+ major blatant and outright mistakes and/or lies and this is considering the fact that I’m nowhere near excellently versed in many of these fields. To make matters worse, I’ve Googled a few of the “experts” they’ve had on their show and the only thing a few of these guys seem to be experts in is tricking television networks into thinking their experts in something.

When somebody watches a show like Inside Edition or anything on MTV, they know (at least, they should know) that whatever they’re seeing is for entertainment purposes only and that for all they know, it’s completely scripted and fake. But when you watch a station like The Discovery Channel of The History Channel, you would hope to have a shred of truth in whatever you’re watching. To The History Channel’s credit, I guess, they’ve gotten better at making things entertaining without outright lying. For instance, in most episodes and specials (such as the Little Ice Age a few weeks back and the one last night about secret organizations), for 58 minutes they air conspiracy theories, ludicrous claims, and wild accusations. Then, in the closing minutes, they say something along the lines of “Some historians, however, disagree with these findings and therefore the debate will go on forever.” Wow, thanks for showing us both sides and giving us a full view on the subject, guys. I would have hated it if I’d only gotten to hear about the view held by 0.00001% of historians, but luckily for me you tossed in that final sentence to give those 99.99999% of people a voice.

I’m not saying the minority shouldn’t have a voice for who knows how much of history we’ve screwed up and gotten wrong. But don’t pass off what they say as complete truth. My faith in the American publics intelligence isn’t that strong and frankly, if you don’t spell out for them that what you’re saying is simple the opinion and views held by only a small number, then they may start to think that what you’re saying is what actually happened in the past. And if there’s one thing that I can’t stand more than green beans or Laura Bush’s face, it’s people who rewrite history.

So fucking stop it. Now. Thanks.

This video clip is flying across the Internet at a faster pace then the Star Wars or Numa Numa Kids combined, but I wanted to take a minute to talk about it and point out a few things. I’m talking about the Bill O’Reilly – David Letterman clip, of course, where surprisingly Letterman doesn’t back down to the obscene claims O’Reilly begins spouting.

I’ve uploaded the clip here to Shyzer and even though it’s 12 MB, I’d highly suggest you download it to at least watch it once, if for no other reason than it’s highly entertaining. Right off the bat, you can see Letterman dipping his pencil in O’Reilly’s drink and stirring it around for a bit. Five minutes later, O’Reilly asks is that’s his drink, Letterman answers yes with a grin, and the crowd laughs as he takes a big gulp.

But what I really want to take a closer look at is the technique Bill O’Reilly has seemed to master – the art of deceptive implication. About ten seconds before the seven minute marker, O’Reilly is trying to explain to Letterman why he detests Cindy Sheehan. Listen to him carefully:

We believe that the United States, particularly the military, are doing a noble thing. A noble thing. The soldiers and Marines are noble. They are not terrorists and when people call them that, like Cindy Sheehan; called the insurgents freedom fighters, we don’t like that.

Now look at that quote again and more importantly, listen to the way he says it in the clip. This is classic O’Reilly chicanery. He starts off by praising the United States, the military, and the soldiers. He calls them noble three times in a row in order to strike the sympathetic chord within his viewers. He’s baiting us for his next sentence so that our brains will subtly make the inference on our own.

They are not terrorists and when people call them that, like Cindy Sheehan; called the insurgents freedom fighters, we don’t like that.

Do you see what he did there? Do you hear the two heavy and drawn out pauses he makes in his voice so that we are given the impression that Cindy Sheehan is calling our soldiers terrorists? If not, allow me to show you. This is what he’s saying, broken down even further:

“Our noble soldiers are not terrorists and when people call them that, like Cindy Sheehan (pause long enough for us to make the assumption that Sheehan is calling our troops terrorists); called the insurgents freedom fights, we don’t like that (again, long pause so our brain can wrap it up.)”

It’s the same method the Bush Administration used for linking Iraq and 9/11 back in 2003. This is not some awkward sentence that O’Reilly is stumbling over. When read, it loses some of its power, because you can see by the punctuation that he is saying Sheehan called the insurgents freedom fighters instead of calling American soldiers terrorists. However, when spoken and combined with the right mixture of pauses and innuendos, it’s a powerful tool of deception. He never comes out and says that Sheehan called our troops terrorists. He knows that if he does that, he can be called out for it by others for spreading false lies. So what does he do? He speaks with sentences that would make an English Lit teacher cringe, but that make the American viewers at home think he’s saying what he won’t come out and say. And I must say, he’s amazingly superb at it.

The problem with O’Reilly is that he rarely places himself in situations as the one that occurred on Letterman. On his show, if somebody begins to disprove what he’s saying, he essentially drowns out their voice by screaming at them about how American is under attack. He did appear on The Daily Show, which I’ll give him credit for doing so, but even then Jon Stewart went much softer on him then I would have hoped for. It seems he prefers to let O’Reilly make an ass of himself on his own show and then just laugh along at the absurdity of it. (For a great example of this, check out this clip from about a month ago.) But like I said, O’Reilly rarely places himself in a situation where somebody could, let’s say, pounce on the Ridgeview, Wisconsin example he so proudly paraded as an example of the “war on Christmas” that liberals were waging. If you only took O’Reilly’s word for it, you’d be left with the impression that a school board in Wisconsin had changed the lyrics of “Silent Night” to “Cold in the Night” in order to be politically correct. In reality, the “Cold in the Night” version is part of a coherent children’s musical written in 1988 called “The Little Tree’s Christmas Story.” As with other musicals, the words to some traditional Christmas songs were tailored to tell the tree’s story. Of course, after all the negative attention and publicity O’Reilly has focused upon the school, they are going back and redoing the musical with the carols’ tradition tunes, which will in essence render the musical incomprehensible. Bravo, O’Reilly. Bravo.

The examples go on and on and Letterman clearly proved in this exchange that he’s no Jon Stewart by hiding behind the thin veil of “I’m not smart enough to debate you,” but he also confronted O’Reilly on almost every talking point he tried to bring up, which is rare for main stream talk show hosts in this day and age. I only wish Letterman’s staff had done some homework and given him some examples and cases where O’Reilly has flat out lied on his television program. The interview would have been even more powerful had it ended with O’Reilly tripping over himself and his past quotes, but alas, I’ll take what I can get and appreciate every second of Letterman holding his ground. Especially when you remember the fact that The Late Show isn’t supposed to be some political debate forum, but instead a place for celebrities to pitch their latest book or movie.

All in, this clip at least proves that (A) Letterman can still be entertaining from time to time, (B) Not all crap goes unchecked, and (C) Bill O’Reilly is still amazingly ignorant.

And just as a little side note for O’Reilly, since this has always been a pet peeve of mine. It’s M-eye-6, not M-1-6, as in Military Intelligence (section) 6. When’s the last time anybody called the Central Intelligence Agency C-1-A?