| How it All Came About. This was an email that I sent out to my friends along with the first edition of The Sunday Scoop/The Critical Eye. It pretty much explains it all. ---------------------------------------------- Well uni is out and I'm bored already--yes, I know it didn't take long. So, I decided that I needed something to do in order to amuse myself. As much as I appreciate Boc's suggestion of going and playing with myself, I figure I need to do something a little more productive (and don't argue that it's productive, because it's not. You're only justifying it to yourselves). Then I remembered that Conley (legendary journalism lecturer) had told us to keep up with our journalism over the break. Now while I thought this a marvelous idea at the time, it soon dawned on me that it wasn't. I mean, come on--running around finding a story, then bothering to interview people, and actually write up an article during my break? Who would voluntarily do that? Oh ... sorry Brad. Anyway, I liked the idea of writing, and although I'm busy with my novel, I'm just not in the mood for it right now. So being stumped on ideas to free me from my boredom, I reverted to my true couch-potato-self and whipped out a DVD with a promise to think of something later. So I sat there watching Sandra Bullock complain in Miss Congeniality that she has no talent ('All I have is sarcasm and a gun!') and I thought, 'Hey, that's kind of like me ... except I have sarcasm and a pen ... and a less desirable figure ... damn, I need a gun now'. And as I thought of the nearest place to acquire a gun license, I was hit with the revelation that I could still write some articles, just make them sarcastic (aka, feature journalism). Oh, and I decided to drop the research seeing as that would require actual effort--something I only get when there's a full moon. But I had no idea what to write about. So, while I sat there and thought yet again (a far out concept, I know), I was hit with another idea (and, yes, my little blonde head hurts. I had to go to hospital--I expect presents). I remembered the old phrase: 'write what you know'. Some old guy said it, but I can't remember whom. I should, but I can't--might have been Hemmingway. But what could I write that you guys would bother to read? Ideas rolled over in my head: Lord of the Rings? No. Harry Potter? Hell no (well, maybe only my newly converted Potterphile, Rahne). My lifetime fight against hypocrisy? Um ... no. Why I think they should issue golf buggies to uni students to drive around campus? No, no, no. C'mon brain, what do I have in common with these people? Um, we're all hermaphrodites? Oh wait, no that's not true; according to Liz, I'm a chicken and an emu (a chemu?). Um, we all breathe oxygen? Oooh wow, oxygen--EXCITING! (I promise not to use any Big Kev jokes here). And then it dawned on me: one thing that nearly the entire human population has and enjoys. No, it's not porno, marijuana, or chocolate ... TELEVISION. Now, I'm going to go all-out and review television shows, because not everyone watches the same shows and no one would want to hear about the shows I watch (well, except maybe Rahne again. Love ya, Mutt. At least there'll be no fighting over the remote when we move in together). So, the only thing left is the ads, which, sadly, no one pays enough attention to. I, however, have been fervently campaigning--ok, complaining--about the ridiculous crap they put in ads these days, so I figured that this would be a perfect opportunity to let you all know what you're missing out on (which, trust me, isn't that much). But I digress. So here it is, the first ever edition of The Critical Eye (that would be one of mine--haven't decided if it will be the left or the right one yet--probably the right one because it has that funky brown stripe in it). |