An open letter to capitalism

Dear Capitalism,

I really don't think that I was asking too much of you today. As per our usual arrangement, I wanted to exchange money for products and services. I wasn't even going for the funny stuff--no feathers from a dodo bird, no stylists flown from Milan to apply fox eyelashes to my lids, no reasonably priced health insurance. All I wanted was:

1. Khaki pants, and
2. Skim milk.

But you were all HAHAHA no I don't think so. I went to the Gap, which, why does it even exist if not to provide me with khaki pants? But today, the Gap was all Wouldn't you prefer an eyelet skirt, or a cable-knit halter-top sweater, or a teeny polo shirt for a dog? For reals.

So I gave that up, and moved on to the next task. Going to the store for milk is so standard that doing it makes you feel like you're in an after-school special: you half-expect a dope pusher to come slinking out of the alley, offering a joint to your wide-eyed self, and perhaps as you take the drugs you will drop the carton of milk to the ground and its splatter will represent your broken innocence. (As it is, the drug dealers don't offer me anything, nor do they stand in the alley; they find it more comfortable to lean against my car in the street.) Anyhoo, there I went to the grocery store for milk. Store #1: Only whole milk. Store #2: Closed. Store #3 (Safeway): Whole milk, 2% milk, $5 organic milk, a few skim milks, but the lines stretch back into the aisles, and as it's already 9:15 even the prospect of reading all of US Weekly and Life & Style isn't enough to make me wait 20 minutes when I could just as well eat cereal with water in the morning. Finally, the small store that always has cilantro but whose name I can never remember because it's in Spanish and I never really studied in Spanish class, even though I took it as an adult and paid good money for it, why did I do that, they have skim milk, but that seems almost like an oversight on your part, Capitalism.

Capitalism? Are you listening? Well, I certainly hope you try harder in the future, or I am taking my business elsewhere.

Brangelina starts Celebricapitalismhobby trend?

Brangelina is launching a line of African housewares--they're working with Namibian craftsmen to develop the rugs, pottery, and other household items, which will be introduced at an art fair in Paris in the fall, and they'll donate all the profits to charity.

After you get over the initial "whaaa?" reaction, you realize that this is the gorgeous, perfect offspring of Brad's interest in design and Angelina's dedication to humanitarian work. (OK, I didn't realize that myself, the article pointed it out, but I totally agree.) It's kind of like how David Arquette and Courtney Cox Arquette's show "Mix it Up" combined their interests in home decor and counterintuitive couples, except that's less an attempt to save the world via attractive microcapitalism, and more of a lame, cancelled WE: Women's Entertainment program.

Of course, this makes one ponder what new products other celebricouples could come up with if they combined their passions:

• Vince Vaughn does stand-up comedy, and Jennifer Aniston didn't speak to her mother for years . . . they could launch an Estranged-o-Gram service whereby a comedian would inform your former friend or family member(s) that you are no loner speaking to them. Convenient AND hilarious!
• Britney likes downward mobility, and KFed likes to irresponsibly impregnate lots of women . . . well, I guess that's not so much a consumer product.
• Hilary Clinton likes to kiss up to Republicans, and Bill Clinton likes to kiss women with full lips (can't find a tasteful link for that, sorry, but think about it, it's true). I'm envisioning Red State Restylane, a lip-enhancing injectable for the more conservative American lady. Genius!

Hmmm. It appears we've produced yet more evidence that Brangelina has cornered the market on celebrity couple awesomeness. Sucks to be everybody else.

Hope springs eternal

The American People have recently started to recognize that a man we used to admire for his intense, unshakable confidence and enthusiasm (and the way he looks in a flight suit) is actually an intense, unshakable zealot who is enthusiastic about nutty, proposterous ideas (and the flight suit was just a costume, anyway).

So, now that our revelations about Tom Cruise have hurt Mission Impossible 3 at the box office, do you think we'll remember our lesson in November, when we get to have a referendum on our nation's other favorite non-pilot?



Happy Friday!

At least I'm not blaming you

So I've been absent for, like, almost a month. I've been avoiding posting again partly out of a sense of guilt and resultant avoidance. How could I come slinking back after heartlessly neglecting T&A for so long?

But this recent post on Underneath Their Robes gave me insight into a different approach to the situation. Article III Groupie hadn't posted for many moons, and when she came back she did so by spraying a whole lotta piss & vinegar at her readers:

If you're angry at A3G for not doing more judicial gossip blogging -- A3G asks: Are you paying her to do this? No? Well, then she doesn't owe you anything. To the contrary, if you've enjoyed this blog at all between its inception and today, then you owe A3G a debt of gratitude.

Bitchy Bitcherina McBitcherton! Clearly I should never have even considered apologizing for my totally infrequent blogging; I should taunt you instead. In that vein, I just typed, "Why are you still checking my blog, when it's clear I've abandoned it? Don't you have work to do or something? Get a life, will you!" but then that seemed mean, and also not funny, and also I really want for you to check my blog, so I deleted it.

Now that we've had that talk, let's never speak of it again, shall we?

So the season finale of Veronica Mars is on on Tuesday (9 EST, UPN), and I can barely sleep with anticipation. However, if you've never watched the show before, you should probably start with the Season 1 DVD rather than just jumping in this week, since the plot is very twisty and complicated, and plus it's a whodunnit, so if you watch the end then you'll kind of spoil the whole Season 2 experience for yourself.

That is, unless you're a Neislon Ratings Family, in which case you should invite your whole town over to watch it with you. Part of the reason for my bated breath about the finale is not just because I'll find out who crashed the school bus and whether Veronica and Logan will get back together (pleasepleasepleaseplease) but also because it will bring us closer to the announcement about whether Veronica Mars will be picked up for a third season when the WB merges with UPN to form CW. It seems Veronica is at risk of becoming the next Arrested Development or Freaks and Geeks--shows that were just too pure and beautiful for this world, kind of like Beth in Little Women or the Democratic party in an election.

All hope is not lost, however--there is a dedicated and very active fan base agitating mightily for a third season, as demonstrated by this press release about how they've hired a plane to fly between L.A. and Burbank with a "Renew Veronica Mars!" banner in tow, which aaaaalmost crosses the line from "dedicated" to "nutso loony with a side of the crazies." Almost.

Needless to say, I am not part of this group--as my aforementioned monthlong hiatus shows, I'm more "lazy" than "nearly insane with activism"--but to those who are, I say: I mock because I am impressed. Godspeed to you, and may your aeroplane be the harbinger of many seasons of Veronica Mars to come.