A Grain of Salt

Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?

I just finished getting my latest fix of American Idol. It was heartwrenching, as always (all those dedications to the grandmas? Boys, you're killing me). But that's not what I want to write about. What I want to write about is the show that came on next, a new game called "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" hosted by Jeff Foxworthy.

Has anyone else seen it? The show features an ethnically diverse (and very cute) class of 5th graders, all of whom try to help the adult contestants answer questions gleaned from lower school textbooks. The adults all have to promise, if they lose, to look into the camera and say, "I'm not smarter than a 5th grader." If they can't answer a question (which no one on tonight's program could), they have three options to cheat: look at their 5th grade counterpart's answer, copy their answer without looking at it, or get "saved" by the 5th graders.

Okay. So given the fact that most American fifth graders can like, hardly read, it's a little horrifying that they all do much, much better than their adult counterparts. Especially given the questions. What month do we celebrate Columbus day in? (October, unless you're in Berkeley, where it turns into "indigenous people's day.") What was the name of the ship the pilgrims sailed over in 1620? (The Mayflower) What is REM? (The band responsible for "Orange Crush.")

But what I really couldn't figure out is what the audition process for the show must be like. You clearly need to get yourself some dorky fifth graders (which prompts the question of why this show wasn't started in 1990). But the adults? I mean, you can't just get idiots--that would be too easy. The first guy graduated from UCLA. But do they have psychologists on hand to tell which personality types are the most likely to crack under the intense scrutiny of 10-year-olds? Do they make them take social studies tests and then pick the people who fail? I'm very confused. And a bit depressed about America.

In other words, I want to be on the show.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

One FEWER

Don't get me wrong. I'm excited about the new cervical cancer vaccine. But I saw a commercial last night on TV (full disclosure: it was while I was watching American Idol) that made me wince. Not because of its content--it was for Gardasil, and had the admirable aim of encouraging people to get vaccinated--but because of its tagline: "One Less."

I know this is a picky, dorky point to make, but if you want to speak English correctly, it should be "One Fewer." See, because "less" is used with stuff that can't be counted as individual units, like flour or gas. But when you *can* count it, like with people or, in this situation, cases of cervical cancer, it's "fewer." That's why I have taken mild grammatical offense at the "One Less Car" t-shirt worn proudly by urban bikers. "ONE FEWER!" I have been known to shout (accompanied, for what it's worth, by Gelf founder Carl). "It should be ONE FEWER car!"

So imagine my horror when last night's commercial--which I think you can watch here--featured smiling, cancer-free girls and women proudly proclaiming themselves as "one less." They even went so far as to hold up placards. "One less! One less!" By the end of the commercial, I was talking back to the television.

Some people might tell me to "chill out" or "shut up," but you know what? It bugs me. And I have a real soft spot for people who get worked up about such things (perhaps because I'm one of them)--one of my favorite things in Harper's ever, for example, was this exchange between the makers of Dasani water, and an English teacher horrified at their blatantly incorrect useage of the word "everyday." Seriously. Read it. I might be crazy, but that shit is funny.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

Bravia Background

Now that I've had some more time to procrastinate, I've got to say that the making of the Bravia commercial--while definitely not as relaxing as the finished product--is possibly more impressive than the commerical itself. I say this because while in the ad the balls are bouncing in slow-motion and are peaceful and soothing, the behind-the-scenes shots show them being fired out of guns, and all the camera crew is wearing riot gear. Awesome.

Bravo, Bravia

If anyone feels the need for some mid-day soothing, check out this ad from Sony. The point is not the printer that it's advertising, but rather the fact that they released like, a shitload of bouncy balls in the streets of San Francisco, videotaped them, and then set it to incredibly relaxing music by Jose Gonzalez. It's the type of thing that will help you sleep at night.

Back Dormitory Boys

Oh my goodness. First of all, for any of you who missed it in procrastinator's toolbox, it would really behoove you to watch this video of two Chinese students performing the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" with more passion than even I can muster.

And then, once you've gotten good and enthusiastic (especially about the guy in the background, who's playing driving games on his computer as if nothing is happening), check out this, an article in the Economist of all places, that reports that thanks to their internet performance, they just got a China-wide deal with Pepsi (the Economist hints that their popularity--measured by popular vote--might herald the beginning of democracy in China). And this is a link to a random performance by them at like, a mall. Seriously--they lipsynched on the internet, and now they're on tour. I really need to start using my webcam.

Natalie Portman, Vaguely Racist?

I should admit straight up that the title to this post is a cheap shot, written mostly out of laziness, and in an attempt to create a vague connection to what I wrote yesterday. But with that said, is anyone else a. obsessed with the Natalie Portman video and b. very confused as to what the lyrics are in the scene where she's yelling at the group of guys? Let me be more specific. It's in the 2nd verse, where she screams something that sounds like, "And you dudes, yeah, I'm talking to you," did anyone else think she was saying, "And you Jews"? Well, I did. In fact, for the first three times that I watched the tape, I sat there wondering why she was yelling at jews, how SNL got away with what might seem vaguely anti-semitic, and how we were supposed to tell that the group of dudes she was yelling at were Jewish. I've discussed this with my roommate Andy, whose understanding of the lyrics goes far beyond my own, and he has affirmed that it's "dudes." But Andy, did you know that Natalie Portman, nee Natalie Hershlag, was born in Jerusalem? Or that she's fluent in Hebrew? It is all very ambiguous.

Natalie Portman, Mother F*cker

Wow. After a long dry spell (say, 8th grade to present) I had been on hiatus from Saturday Night Live. One might say that the hiatus is continuing, since I don't actually "watch" it. But once in a while my good internet friends alert me to what might be considered a resurgence of genius, such as the "Chronic (What) -les of Narnia" of a few months ago, and now this, Natalie Portman doing gangsta rap. They say a picture speaks a thousand words. A streaming video clip? I might as well shut up now.

I want to pinch.

Thank you, Chloe, Marie and Owen Dalby, for introducing me (and, consequently, Salt) to this commercial for the Honda Element. It is about a crab. Watch it, and then try not to greet everyone you know by saying, "Why no pinch?" Ooh, boy.

Must They Combust?

Catherine here. Am taking a break from reading All the President's Men, the Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward account of the Watergate scandal, by watching the television. Devoted readers know that I have taken issue with several recent ad campaigns, namely Seasonale birth control's "Menstrual Twister" and Metamucil's "Constipated Geyser Sequence." I'd let my negativity go into remission recently (it's the California air) but tonight I noticed two new offenders: the Sam Adams one where hip young twenty-somethings party till the breaka breaka dawn, and the Metro PCS ad where all the salesmen explode.

Sam Adams first. Readers might correctly point out that to criticize a beer ad for being stupid is like observing that the banana is a fruit. But I still think it is funny that the ad portrays said fun young folk playing what appears to be an all-night game of Trivial Pursuit (the nerd in me gets excited every time, thinking they're advertising a new Genus), then walking out into the blinding morning light (as a bathrobe-clad neighbor in fuzzy slippers picks up the newspaper) while the announcer says something along the lines of "When the quality of the beer matches the quality of your friends, it's easy to lose track of time."

Um, a. Trivial Pursuit gets boring after a while, b. if you've been drinking for over eight hours, you really don't give a fuck what kind of beer it is, and c. the ad fails to include naked chicks.

Second commercial in issue: the Metro PCS one where a fat customer representative, when told by a caller that her friend has a plan with unlimited wireless minutes, starts squeezing a stress ball and then, whoops, spontaneously combusts! Pan out to show the room full of cubicles, Metro PCS logo superimposed on the screen, with little puffs of smoke rising from former employees' workspaces. In some senses this grosses me out in much the same way as do the bloody implications of Seasonale's campaign (after all, even if you spontaneously combust, don't you leave behind at least a little something nasty?). And second, placing a customer service call--or even signing up for a cell phone plan--that would cause not one but many cell phone employees to explode, would leave me unable to sleep at night, let alone use my cell phone. I mean, these people have miserable enough lives anyway. Do we really need to reduce them to smoke? (Also interesting is that they chose a fat white guy as the subject, an example of the "Isn't mocking fat people funny?" trend in American "comedy," instead of the more realistic but less PC choice: a small Indian woman trying to conceal her accent in an overseas office.)

I guess my complaints don't really matter, since I hate beer and am locked into a year-long plan with AT&T. But I've never let logic counter my cynicism. As a postcard my father once found in a bathroom display and then gave to me says, "Skepticism is a Virtue."