Heading into the Royal Rumble in St. Louis this Sunday, the RFT ran this story about wrestling legend Harley Race. Stories like this seem to be the only exposure for wrestlers anymore. Whether it's inflammatory headlines like "HULK HOGAN GAY", a heart-wrenching tale detailing the steady decline of Ric Flair, or any of the string of wrestler deaths over the past few years. (Only four in 2011, but one of those was one of the greatest of all time). I feel like the highly-publicized Benoit incident opened the gates to this attitude towards wrestlers. That, combined with the almost parallel trajectories of the lives of Hogan, Flair, and the fictional character of Randy "The Ram" Robinson, makes retired wrestlers seem like a pretty pathetic lot.
The RFT story does nothing to shake this attitude. Race limps around his Eldon, MO training school, overweight and smoking cigarettes. For $3000, a young, wide-eyed WWE hopeful can get screamed at by Race in his gravelly voice, but unfortunately will get no real in-ring tutelage from him. To be fair, there are some talented kids that come out of his camp, and the offspring of some very high-profile names are apparently training there right now.
I met Harley Race back in 1996, only a year after his hip was crushed in a car accident. He looked about the same as he looks now, but with less gray hair. He limped then, and I can only imagine it has gotten worse. He is out of shape and looks like he won't make it another 5 years (though I did say the same thing when I first met him).
The company who stands to lose the most from this negative portrayal, WWE, doesn't really seem to do much about it. Wrestlers are seem as independent contractors, have no health insurance, work an astounding number of days per year, and treated as though they are expendable. Unless young guys get a dose of good advice they may lead themselves down this same road. Good Ole' J.R. was known to tell rising stars two important pieces of advice: 1) pay your taxes, and 2) prepare for life outside wrestling. Some people took that advice to heart. Others, less so...
Ok, so professional wrestlers aren't the most upstanding human beings all the time. Sometimes they have "substance abuse problems". That's no reason for the biggest game in town not to show a little paternalism and guide young wrestlers in a smart direction. There are plenty of complaints to lodge at WWE about their product. I'd be content to see changes in their policy.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Great Ones
It's no secret that I love cooking. I've had some pretty bad failures, and overall I'd say I'm probably only an average cook, but I really love doing it. This love didn't blossom in a family kitchen or over my mother's shoulder. It happened in front of a Zenith TV set on PBS. I remember KETC being full of how-to's in the 80s and 90s: This Old House, The Joy of Painting, and a strong lineup of cooking shows. Watching these shows as a kid, I fell in love with cooking without ever setting foot in the kitchen. We never had any of the ingredients to make the stuff on the shows, and my mom didn't want me anywhere near the stove.
The urge to cook kept bubbling until I was out on my own, and needing to feed myself. By that time PBS was no longer showing how-to's anymore (and I can't understand why). But there was a little thing called the internet to help in the kitchen. Being a broke kid at the time, I could only make the cheap stuff, but I never felt like it was that hard. I found it enjoyable, just like I knew I would.
Of course, from the locally broadcast shows of the 80s have developed the cable networks that specialize in how-to's, and food has two channels solely dedicated to it on U-Verse, and a handful of others that dabble. I have my favorites, though there are scores of mediocre personalities. There are also some really bad cooking shows. And then there is the Axis of Evil Eating--Paula Deen and Rachel Ray. I'll spare a rant on the two of them for right now.
The point of this is that my love for food came from the TV personalities in the 1980s. Martin Yan was the flashy one. His exaggerated, broken English and showman smile were accented with slick knife skills and borderline racist one-liners. Here he shows you how to bone a chicken:
If Yan can cook, so can you!
If Yan can cut up a chicken in 18 seconds, I'd still probably be careful and take my time.
Jacques Pepin was the sophisticate. That thick, sometimes-hard-to-understand accent, and is that a lisp I'm catching? Or just his indelible French-ness. His show was not broadcast as regularly as the rest, so it was always a special treat to see him work. Here Jacques has a crack at a chicken:
The most unfortunate case is Jeff Smith. He wasn't as flashy as Yan, and did not appear to have nearly the culinary background of Jacques, but he was easy to watch. He always seemed friendly enough, and it was fun to watch his excitable fits on TV. It was shocking to see the allegations brought against him, and they have certainly marred my opinion of him. Of course, it isn't easy to know who to believe in these situations. The plaintiffs note that they did not discover the psychological damage that Smith's alleged abuse caused them until 1997. That always sounds a bit fishy. But the fact that so many people had come forward does seem too much of a coincidence. The fact is, at the end of the day, such an illustrious on-air personality is tarnished merely by the allegations. It's just hard to swallow, if all you see is The Frugal Gourmet. It's like someone telling you that Bob Ross led an underground dogfighting ring. Smith died in 2004, so we may never know the truth. Better to let the memory of his on-air pleasantness survive.
That brings us to today. Around the turn of the century, Food Network, and a guy by the name of Emeril, brought excitement and prestige back to the how-to cooking show. He had charisma, a charming smile, vaguely foreign sounding name, and catchphrases. In addition, he had the culinary pedigree to silence those typically critical of the actual knowledge of TV cooking show hosts. Personally I could take or leave him, but he made a lot of people excited about cooking again.
What he did do was carry a small cable channel into the new millenium with some pocket change to produce more shows. Around this time one of the true heavyweights of TV cooking was starting to make some buzz.
Alton Brown is the mad scientist. He may not have the strongest culinary background, but he knows the science of food. Coming into his own in the 21st century, when consumers are caring more and more about where their food comes from, was fortunate for Alton. Alton may not give you the most exotic recipes, but he will tell you everything you want to know about mayonnaise.
Giada De Laurentiis is the beauty. I've actually made a lot of her recipes, and they are usually very easy and come out tasting great. That really is all you can ask of a competent host. It's just a bonus that she has a huge rack and a pretty face.
Last but not least is the anti-hero of the group, Tony Bourdain. I hesitate to lump him in with this group because he's less of a TV chef and more of a tour guide. He is only one step removed from Andrew Zimmern, who would probably wrap his lips around the tailpipe of a Volvo if you convinced him it was custom in some random third-world country (actually it looks like he DID), or Samantha Brown, just with more f-bombs. His show is entertaining, but something tells me if I met him in person I probably wouldn't like him. He reminds me of a neighbor I had once.
TV cooking show hosts have to do more than cook. They need to make cooking seem like the greatest thing you can be doing. Whether it's because they seem like they have been sharpening their skills in the kitchen/dojo since they were able to hold a knife a la Martin Yan, or because they can conjure up obscure historical facts or use bundles of garden hose to explain skirt steak. I imagine the sweet old grandmother baking cookies with her grandchild can have this effect. But while my mom was burning dinner in the kitchen, I was letting Martin Yan teach me how to fry rice or slice water chestnuts.
The urge to cook kept bubbling until I was out on my own, and needing to feed myself. By that time PBS was no longer showing how-to's anymore (and I can't understand why). But there was a little thing called the internet to help in the kitchen. Being a broke kid at the time, I could only make the cheap stuff, but I never felt like it was that hard. I found it enjoyable, just like I knew I would.
Of course, from the locally broadcast shows of the 80s have developed the cable networks that specialize in how-to's, and food has two channels solely dedicated to it on U-Verse, and a handful of others that dabble. I have my favorites, though there are scores of mediocre personalities. There are also some really bad cooking shows. And then there is the Axis of Evil Eating--Paula Deen and Rachel Ray. I'll spare a rant on the two of them for right now.
The point of this is that my love for food came from the TV personalities in the 1980s. Martin Yan was the flashy one. His exaggerated, broken English and showman smile were accented with slick knife skills and borderline racist one-liners. Here he shows you how to bone a chicken:
If Yan can cook, so can you!
If Yan can cut up a chicken in 18 seconds, I'd still probably be careful and take my time.
Jacques Pepin was the sophisticate. That thick, sometimes-hard-to-understand accent, and is that a lisp I'm catching? Or just his indelible French-ness. His show was not broadcast as regularly as the rest, so it was always a special treat to see him work. Here Jacques has a crack at a chicken:
The most unfortunate case is Jeff Smith. He wasn't as flashy as Yan, and did not appear to have nearly the culinary background of Jacques, but he was easy to watch. He always seemed friendly enough, and it was fun to watch his excitable fits on TV. It was shocking to see the allegations brought against him, and they have certainly marred my opinion of him. Of course, it isn't easy to know who to believe in these situations. The plaintiffs note that they did not discover the psychological damage that Smith's alleged abuse caused them until 1997. That always sounds a bit fishy. But the fact that so many people had come forward does seem too much of a coincidence. The fact is, at the end of the day, such an illustrious on-air personality is tarnished merely by the allegations. It's just hard to swallow, if all you see is The Frugal Gourmet. It's like someone telling you that Bob Ross led an underground dogfighting ring. Smith died in 2004, so we may never know the truth. Better to let the memory of his on-air pleasantness survive.
That brings us to today. Around the turn of the century, Food Network, and a guy by the name of Emeril, brought excitement and prestige back to the how-to cooking show. He had charisma, a charming smile, vaguely foreign sounding name, and catchphrases. In addition, he had the culinary pedigree to silence those typically critical of the actual knowledge of TV cooking show hosts. Personally I could take or leave him, but he made a lot of people excited about cooking again.
What he did do was carry a small cable channel into the new millenium with some pocket change to produce more shows. Around this time one of the true heavyweights of TV cooking was starting to make some buzz.
Alton Brown is the mad scientist. He may not have the strongest culinary background, but he knows the science of food. Coming into his own in the 21st century, when consumers are caring more and more about where their food comes from, was fortunate for Alton. Alton may not give you the most exotic recipes, but he will tell you everything you want to know about mayonnaise.
Giada De Laurentiis is the beauty. I've actually made a lot of her recipes, and they are usually very easy and come out tasting great. That really is all you can ask of a competent host. It's just a bonus that she has a huge rack and a pretty face.
Last but not least is the anti-hero of the group, Tony Bourdain. I hesitate to lump him in with this group because he's less of a TV chef and more of a tour guide. He is only one step removed from Andrew Zimmern, who would probably wrap his lips around the tailpipe of a Volvo if you convinced him it was custom in some random third-world country (actually it looks like he DID), or Samantha Brown, just with more f-bombs. His show is entertaining, but something tells me if I met him in person I probably wouldn't like him. He reminds me of a neighbor I had once.
TV cooking show hosts have to do more than cook. They need to make cooking seem like the greatest thing you can be doing. Whether it's because they seem like they have been sharpening their skills in the kitchen/dojo since they were able to hold a knife a la Martin Yan, or because they can conjure up obscure historical facts or use bundles of garden hose to explain skirt steak. I imagine the sweet old grandmother baking cookies with her grandchild can have this effect. But while my mom was burning dinner in the kitchen, I was letting Martin Yan teach me how to fry rice or slice water chestnuts.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I AM the 1%
So it started last night with the Oprah-endorsed documentary, "I AM"
Tom Shadyac was a Hollywood comedy director who, aside from jumping the shark circa 1998 when he started collecting some of that Nutty Professor money, also rediscovered his life in 2007 when he fell off a bike and suffered from Post Concussion Syndrome for months afterward. During this time he decided to give up his worldly possessions, created a homeless shelter, and moved into a trailer park. I'm skeptical about the PCS, but whatever. He wants to do good, so I can't hate on that. The problem is, I don't know exactly what he has in mind. Throughout the film, he is talking to experts like Lynne McTaggert and Howard Zinn. (It is pretty funny when, as a preface to these and other interviews, he is asking Noam Chomsky and Desmond Tutu if they have heard of "Ace Ventura"). He wants a shift away from science, away from the belief in a mechanistic world, and there is a short video segment on the failures of science (the world is flat, Newtonian mechanics, physicians prescribing cigarettes in the 1950s). But then, to support his "the world is connected" idea, he turns to... pseudoscience? I'm not sure what Dean Radin is studying at the Institute of Noetic Sciences, but it doesn't really appear to be science. Even Shadyac seems a bit uneasy once he meets up with THIS guy:
Rollin McCraty (his real name) is Executive Vice President and Director of Research at the Institute of HeartMath, where they mayzure how the heart interacts with the environment. They use precise instruments to collect mayzurements and improve the ways we can mayzure the electromagnetic effects of the heart. Honestly, he just looks (gold teef, really?) and sounds like a Will Ferrell character. Is anyone supposed to take him seriously? To be fair, Shadyac giggled a bit as they discussed the ways his emotions affected the bacteria in a sample of yogurt on the table in front of him. I tried to find out where he got his PhD, but that information just isn't out there.
Anyway, so after dismissing the whole thing as quackery, I realized that "movements" or "organizations" like this have existed in various forms for a really long time. There is something timeless about learning the best way to live your life. There can be good intentions at the root of these ideas, but they are usually spoiled by a lot of smoke and mirrors.
Seeing Vanguard this morning reminded me where these good intentions come from...
This episode focused on two families in Houston, Texas. One was very wealthy, the other was financially struggling. Nothing new here. What isn't in the trailer, though, is at one point Lucinda Loya (the rich wife) is being interviewed, talking about growing up living out of a car collecting welfare. She says she has a great life now, and her own interior design company, but still doesn't feel like she's "made it".
I felt like that was the single point on which the whole story turns. I felt for the Starr's, even though, ever wary of liberal influence, I was still critical of a few choices they made. Maybe they didn't need TWO fuel GUZZLING trucks. Maybe Paul Starr could drink something other than a convenience-store bought beverage. Who knows how many questionable financial decisions were made to lead them to their unfortunate position. The fact is they are where many American families find themselves, for better or worse. So what are we supposed to do about it?
There are two ways to read Lucinda Loya's comment. If she doesn't feel like she's made it because, at the end of the day, with the fancy house and fancy car, she still isn't happy, that leads us to a "money can't buy you happiness" kind of conclusion. But surely, based on the recent purchases of Jay-Z and Beyonce, it can...
Or, Lucinda could be saying that no matter how much she has, she still wants more. Then we're left with a "money is a disease" kind of juggernaut consumer apocalypse. It might be that the former is really a consequence of the latter. In any case, is it too much to ask of these incredibly wealthy, who don't really love their money all that much, and are getting sick of it anyway, to please give another 4% to absolve the financial missteps of people like the Starrs? I know you don't know them personally, and their mistakes aren't your responsibility, but c'mon... a $20K high chair? Really?
Tom Shadyac was a Hollywood comedy director who, aside from jumping the shark circa 1998 when he started collecting some of that Nutty Professor money, also rediscovered his life in 2007 when he fell off a bike and suffered from Post Concussion Syndrome for months afterward. During this time he decided to give up his worldly possessions, created a homeless shelter, and moved into a trailer park. I'm skeptical about the PCS, but whatever. He wants to do good, so I can't hate on that. The problem is, I don't know exactly what he has in mind. Throughout the film, he is talking to experts like Lynne McTaggert and Howard Zinn. (It is pretty funny when, as a preface to these and other interviews, he is asking Noam Chomsky and Desmond Tutu if they have heard of "Ace Ventura"). He wants a shift away from science, away from the belief in a mechanistic world, and there is a short video segment on the failures of science (the world is flat, Newtonian mechanics, physicians prescribing cigarettes in the 1950s). But then, to support his "the world is connected" idea, he turns to... pseudoscience? I'm not sure what Dean Radin is studying at the Institute of Noetic Sciences, but it doesn't really appear to be science. Even Shadyac seems a bit uneasy once he meets up with THIS guy:
Rollin McCraty (his real name) is Executive Vice President and Director of Research at the Institute of HeartMath, where they mayzure how the heart interacts with the environment. They use precise instruments to collect mayzurements and improve the ways we can mayzure the electromagnetic effects of the heart. Honestly, he just looks (gold teef, really?) and sounds like a Will Ferrell character. Is anyone supposed to take him seriously? To be fair, Shadyac giggled a bit as they discussed the ways his emotions affected the bacteria in a sample of yogurt on the table in front of him. I tried to find out where he got his PhD, but that information just isn't out there.
Anyway, so after dismissing the whole thing as quackery, I realized that "movements" or "organizations" like this have existed in various forms for a really long time. There is something timeless about learning the best way to live your life. There can be good intentions at the root of these ideas, but they are usually spoiled by a lot of smoke and mirrors.
Seeing Vanguard this morning reminded me where these good intentions come from...
This episode focused on two families in Houston, Texas. One was very wealthy, the other was financially struggling. Nothing new here. What isn't in the trailer, though, is at one point Lucinda Loya (the rich wife) is being interviewed, talking about growing up living out of a car collecting welfare. She says she has a great life now, and her own interior design company, but still doesn't feel like she's "made it".
I felt like that was the single point on which the whole story turns. I felt for the Starr's, even though, ever wary of liberal influence, I was still critical of a few choices they made. Maybe they didn't need TWO fuel GUZZLING trucks. Maybe Paul Starr could drink something other than a convenience-store bought beverage. Who knows how many questionable financial decisions were made to lead them to their unfortunate position. The fact is they are where many American families find themselves, for better or worse. So what are we supposed to do about it?
There are two ways to read Lucinda Loya's comment. If she doesn't feel like she's made it because, at the end of the day, with the fancy house and fancy car, she still isn't happy, that leads us to a "money can't buy you happiness" kind of conclusion. But surely, based on the recent purchases of Jay-Z and Beyonce, it can...
Or, Lucinda could be saying that no matter how much she has, she still wants more. Then we're left with a "money is a disease" kind of juggernaut consumer apocalypse. It might be that the former is really a consequence of the latter. In any case, is it too much to ask of these incredibly wealthy, who don't really love their money all that much, and are getting sick of it anyway, to please give another 4% to absolve the financial missteps of people like the Starrs? I know you don't know them personally, and their mistakes aren't your responsibility, but c'mon... a $20K high chair? Really?
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Moral Machines
It only takes a semester of graduate philosophy to really make you look at everything differently. A lot of it is probably due to indoctrination. It seems to me there must be something very different about writing philosophy, compared to writing for other disciplines (literature, sociology, anthropology). From the outside, all academics (or at least their work) seem the same: full of a kind of self-inflated pompousness that is immediately alienating. Philosophy is unique in that the battle lines haven't really moved much in its 3+ millenia history. The analytic-continental line, though it is often described as a moving target, is a rough divide. In any case, it's the words that make all the difference. This seems to be the point stressed to me by my instructors, at any rate. So in reading popular literature, magazine articles, even watching movies, the effects of reading and writing philosophy become magnified.
Consider Colin Allen's recent NY Times article, The Future of Moral Machines. I certainly applaud his effort, as I do anyone who tries to keep philosophy in the public eye. The problem is, I came to this excerpt, and could go no further:
I wasn't quite sure what to make of this. How much physics does an outfielder have to know to actually make use of it and adjust future performances? Studying formulas will certainly not help the outfielder judge the trajectory of a ball as it jumps off the bat. Physics would, however, be able to predict with 100% accuracy, the trajectory of a ball given precise conditions. The outfielder merely knows that if the ball is in the air, it will travel in a fairly uniform path, such that he can follow it and make a play. His folk-physics actually maps onto the more precise scientific physics. As any ethical theorist will tell you, there are plenty of exceptions to folk morality's claim on an objective theoretical foundation. I might go so far as to say there is no objective foundation at all.
But how does this relate to his larger point, of developing "robot ethics"? Robots, in their current and foreseeable state, are extensions of the intentions of their designers. Assigning an ethical code to the robots is merely to require an ethical code in design. If technology gets to the point that we fear it is possible for artificial intelligence to arise, the "technological singularity" as it is called, would we not merely impose limits on design that keep the robots from rising against us? All artifacts in the world can be put to a morally unfavorable purpose, but to talk about "sledgehammer ethics" is no more than to speak of the ethics of people using sledgehammers as tools. It is the implementation of the artifact that is at issue. If the technological singularity is surpassed, the robots would no longer be subject to limits by design, and could be judged as free moral agents in their own right.
Consider Colin Allen's recent NY Times article, The Future of Moral Machines. I certainly applaud his effort, as I do anyone who tries to keep philosophy in the public eye. The problem is, I came to this excerpt, and could go no further:
"Perhaps ethical theory is to moral agents as physics is to outfielders — theoretical knowledge that isn’t necessary to play a good game. Such theoretical knowledge may still be useful after the fact to analyze and adjust future performance."
I wasn't quite sure what to make of this. How much physics does an outfielder have to know to actually make use of it and adjust future performances? Studying formulas will certainly not help the outfielder judge the trajectory of a ball as it jumps off the bat. Physics would, however, be able to predict with 100% accuracy, the trajectory of a ball given precise conditions. The outfielder merely knows that if the ball is in the air, it will travel in a fairly uniform path, such that he can follow it and make a play. His folk-physics actually maps onto the more precise scientific physics. As any ethical theorist will tell you, there are plenty of exceptions to folk morality's claim on an objective theoretical foundation. I might go so far as to say there is no objective foundation at all.
But how does this relate to his larger point, of developing "robot ethics"? Robots, in their current and foreseeable state, are extensions of the intentions of their designers. Assigning an ethical code to the robots is merely to require an ethical code in design. If technology gets to the point that we fear it is possible for artificial intelligence to arise, the "technological singularity" as it is called, would we not merely impose limits on design that keep the robots from rising against us? All artifacts in the world can be put to a morally unfavorable purpose, but to talk about "sledgehammer ethics" is no more than to speak of the ethics of people using sledgehammers as tools. It is the implementation of the artifact that is at issue. If the technological singularity is surpassed, the robots would no longer be subject to limits by design, and could be judged as free moral agents in their own right.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Shake Your Moneymaker
My brother-in-law is determined to turn a great idea into millions. It could be a business idea, a service, or a tangible item. These ideas always seem to be floating in his head. It seems to me that the people who are likely to actually make money from a good idea have personalities like his. Their minds are always swirling with ideas, and they have a keen eye for spotting a demand in the marketplace.
I will be the first to admit that I do NOT have this kind of personality. I do, however, have a constant stream of wacky ideas. Most of these I disregard as completely insane, or, at the very least, useless to the general public (stylish wristbands made of beef jerky, or condiment dispensers attached to the outside of the fridge like an icemaker). But there seem to be a plenitude of successful products on the market today that could have been dismissed for the very same reason. The Snuggie is nothing more than adult full-body pajamas, and they don't even have the feet in, but they still sell a buttload of those. (Specifically, a "buttload" here is something like 4 million plus units.) And the crazy ideas just keep coming.
The Snuggie is like the Chuck Norris of the entrepreneur world. It's something we're all familiar with. I mean, really, prior to the Snuggie, who HADN'T dreamt of an adult set of full body pajamas. Sure, the Snuggie is really more of a blanket with sleeves, but it's the same general idea. In much the same way, we all know Chuck Norris, and we knew him even before he became a cult icon. Whether we watched him fall to the fists of Bruce Lee...
or watching him thwart the Lebanese terrorists with Lee Marvin in The Delta Force...
or thrilling audiences as Colonel Braddock in the Missing in Action movies.
So how did Chuck Norris become so popular? Sure, he starred in some action movies, most of them pretty terrible. How do you go from being a B-movie star to a pop culture icon? It's really all about how you market it. Chuck's only saving grace is the fact that everyone had been exposed to him, in some form or other, in the 80s. (If you lived in St. Louis, the exposure most likely came on a Sunday afternoon on KPLR-11). All everyone had ever seen of him was a bearded karate-man snapping necks and shooting guns. The popularity rose out of taking this caricature, and making it ironic. And as we all know, irony is super cool these days.
The folks behind Snuggie did the exact same thing. Most adults nowadays grew up wearing full body pj's, and the fantasy of an adult pair is obviously not uncommon. The problem was, prior to the Snuggie, it seemed like just that--a fantasy, and a ridiculous one at that. The thing the Snuggie people did right was to take this ridiculousness, and make it ironic. They put together a corny commercial, went heavy on the cheese, and Voila! The product became an overnight success.
So if commercial success really is just that simple, how have I not hit it big yet? I would chalk it up to my personality. Even if I struck paydirt with the right idea, I just don't have the drive to turn it into a reality. All of my ideas, whether they are good or bad, just get swept under the rug. But then, Chuck Norris probably felt like the same had happened to him in the 90s, prior to America's strange fixation on him.
As an aside, watching those old clips got me thinking. Even though Chuck Norris notoriously starred in B-level action flicks, there was some pretty serious (albeit fading) star power in The Delta Force. It was Lee Marvin's last film, Joey Bishop played one of the passengers, and Martin Balsam (one of the Jurors from 12 Angry Men), Robert Vaughn, and Shelley Winters were a few of the other names to grace the cast list. It was like one last big gunpowder-and-patriotism-fueled hurrah for some great actors. Lastly, does anyone ever wonder how Cannon Films could possibly have gone under? These were the people that brought us Death Wish, Cobra, American Ninja, Breakin', Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, and Masters of the Universe, just to name a few. These movies are stamped in the minds of 30 and 40-somethings all across this country. It's a shame that the 90s were so cruel to such a visionary institution.
I will be the first to admit that I do NOT have this kind of personality. I do, however, have a constant stream of wacky ideas. Most of these I disregard as completely insane, or, at the very least, useless to the general public (stylish wristbands made of beef jerky, or condiment dispensers attached to the outside of the fridge like an icemaker). But there seem to be a plenitude of successful products on the market today that could have been dismissed for the very same reason. The Snuggie is nothing more than adult full-body pajamas, and they don't even have the feet in, but they still sell a buttload of those. (Specifically, a "buttload" here is something like 4 million plus units.) And the crazy ideas just keep coming.
The Snuggie is like the Chuck Norris of the entrepreneur world. It's something we're all familiar with. I mean, really, prior to the Snuggie, who HADN'T dreamt of an adult set of full body pajamas. Sure, the Snuggie is really more of a blanket with sleeves, but it's the same general idea. In much the same way, we all know Chuck Norris, and we knew him even before he became a cult icon. Whether we watched him fall to the fists of Bruce Lee...
or watching him thwart the Lebanese terrorists with Lee Marvin in The Delta Force...
or thrilling audiences as Colonel Braddock in the Missing in Action movies.
So how did Chuck Norris become so popular? Sure, he starred in some action movies, most of them pretty terrible. How do you go from being a B-movie star to a pop culture icon? It's really all about how you market it. Chuck's only saving grace is the fact that everyone had been exposed to him, in some form or other, in the 80s. (If you lived in St. Louis, the exposure most likely came on a Sunday afternoon on KPLR-11). All everyone had ever seen of him was a bearded karate-man snapping necks and shooting guns. The popularity rose out of taking this caricature, and making it ironic. And as we all know, irony is super cool these days.
The folks behind Snuggie did the exact same thing. Most adults nowadays grew up wearing full body pj's, and the fantasy of an adult pair is obviously not uncommon. The problem was, prior to the Snuggie, it seemed like just that--a fantasy, and a ridiculous one at that. The thing the Snuggie people did right was to take this ridiculousness, and make it ironic. They put together a corny commercial, went heavy on the cheese, and Voila! The product became an overnight success.
So if commercial success really is just that simple, how have I not hit it big yet? I would chalk it up to my personality. Even if I struck paydirt with the right idea, I just don't have the drive to turn it into a reality. All of my ideas, whether they are good or bad, just get swept under the rug. But then, Chuck Norris probably felt like the same had happened to him in the 90s, prior to America's strange fixation on him.
As an aside, watching those old clips got me thinking. Even though Chuck Norris notoriously starred in B-level action flicks, there was some pretty serious (albeit fading) star power in The Delta Force. It was Lee Marvin's last film, Joey Bishop played one of the passengers, and Martin Balsam (one of the Jurors from 12 Angry Men), Robert Vaughn, and Shelley Winters were a few of the other names to grace the cast list. It was like one last big gunpowder-and-patriotism-fueled hurrah for some great actors. Lastly, does anyone ever wonder how Cannon Films could possibly have gone under? These were the people that brought us Death Wish, Cobra, American Ninja, Breakin', Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, and Masters of the Universe, just to name a few. These movies are stamped in the minds of 30 and 40-somethings all across this country. It's a shame that the 90s were so cruel to such a visionary institution.
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