from huffingtonpost.com

Hello all. Back from this not-at-all-abnormally-long absence with something just too long for one, or even several, tweets. (And it’s still not all that long.)

The genesis of this post, however, is due to Twitter…specifically a user inspired by, in his words, “searching for the signs of Idiocracy.” Earlier today he tweeted with a link about a Glenn Beck tirade (which I’m guessing included irrational yelling and/0r crocodile tears) and added the hashtag #failingmedia. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can agree with that.

I see the point @iidiocracy was making, and if the goal of a guy like Glenn Beck were to inform the public in any meaningful way (like, you know, a journalist), then sure – he’d be a failure. But he’s an entertainer, and in being one, it seems like he found his niche. I didn’t see much of him back when he was with CNN/Headline News, but from what I saw he was nowhere near the caricature he is now. Essentially, he just changed his personality to fit his new show/network (like an entertainer might), and it seems to have worked out for him.

It’s like I was discussing with Tom (can you guess where our focus has been recently?) a while ago, when he was fuming (via Twitter) over some typical Beck rant. The thing is: getting so up in arms is tantamount to saying: “Nice job, Glenn Beck.” It’s helping him accomplish exactly what he sets out to do – provoke reactions. That’s all he wants, and he gets them.

I’m sure these points have been made by many others, and many more who haven’t articulated it in some way realize it. But I’d been looking for a way to get back to this blog, and I guess my best excuse was being able to say: as insane as anyone acts, it’s hard to say they’re failing when people pay attention, whether they’re people who actually buy into their bluster, or their most irritable detractors. So maybe Glenn Beck is a lunatic/phony/phony lunatic, but he’s apparently good at being one. Idiocracy should wish he were a failure.

By Tom Wright-Piersanti / TV Editor

I am an adult in the eyes of the law, and this year on St. Patrick’s Day, I drank alcohol, as my Irish ancestors have for millennia. To take that classic tradition into the 21st century, I decided to post updates to my Twitter. That way, any friends stuck at work could live vicariously through my exploits, and I’d have a record to refer to the next day.

The problem with Twitter, as old people constantly remind us, is that it’s out there on the Internet and anyone can see it. What they don’t understand is that we early-20-somethings are on the older cusp of a generation that lives increasingly public lives. For many, Web privacy is a thing of the past.

My mom followed my St. Patty’s tweets from home and told me the next day how nervous they made her. And as much as I care about my mother’s mental health, I didn’t feel any guilt. Web sites like Twitter and Facebook are personal spaces where we can post whatever we’re comfortable with. If people — moms included — aren’t prepared to actually know what’s going on in my life, then they don’t have to look.

I don’t take Twitter seriously, and I don’t try to utilize it as a marketing tool to push my own personal brand like so many annoying iPhone app developers and search engine optimizers. It’s just a fun place to write a silly line I thought of, or to post a link to a bizarre photo or video I found.

When I tweet, I try to represent myself as honestly as possible. For the most part, that means I don’t censor swear words or slightly adult subject matters. I’m never too crude or eyeball-meltingly offensive, but I do season my tweets with the same colorful words that I enjoy using in real life.

People fear that possible employers will judge them by their Twitter page, and therefore keep them painfully boring. We get it, you’re a journalism student, but no one cares that you link to 10 industry news items a day. If you aren’t using Twitter to be yourself and have fun, you’re doing it wrong.

Anyone who hires me (please hire me!) can see exactly what I’m like by visiting my page. In my dream work environment, I’d feel comfortable enough to behave like myself, which would entail the occasional usage of curse words. If a future employer says, “He used the ‘s’ word, he’s a loose cannon! We can’t hire him,” then maybe that’s a place I don’t want to work.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not encouraging everyone to begin listing all illegal activity where anyone can see it, and I wouldn’t recommend making your Twitter an outlet for your 140-character erotic fiction tales (though I’m sure there’s a market). Just don’t be afraid to be represent yourself truthfully on the Internet. Pretty soon, all those old people who think it’s a bad idea will be gone, and we’ll control the workforce. And we’ll all tweet dirty words back and forth to our hearts’ content.

Tom welcomes feedback in the form of @ messages to his Twitter account, tomwp. He also encourages everyone to follow him and promises he’ll follow back.

Rihanna
Pros: Great voice, beautiful.
Cons: Possibly used to be a man.
As great as she is… I can’t stop thinking about that damn con!

Best Rihanna song: “Unfaithful”
Worst Rihanna song: “Post-op Blues”
Mediumest Rihanna song: “What Happened To My Weiner? (Feat. T.I.)”

So while researching her past, I was reminded of her first song, Pon De Replay, and wondered, “What the heck did that mean?” So I decided to check out what they were saying over at SongMeanings. Consensus seems to be that “pon” means “put on” and “de” means “the.” Simple enough, it means “play the song again.” But in the comments, I happened across one man’s fantastic story. His name: Foxwing.

The way I see it, poor Foxwing wrote his comment and felt good about it for a day or so. Then he realized his mistake, but it was too late. He spiraled into depression, fearing every Hispanic person he saw would know his terrible error. After a short stint in rehab, he moved West and found Jesus. Only then, after almost two years of meditation and planning, was he finally ready to admit his mistake to the Internet. His inclusion of squinty-eyed flat mouth man was the perfect touch on his formal admittance of the mistake, and he now lives a very happy life traveling through South America teaching heathen tribes the ways of the Lord. And he never calls them Mexicans.

YankeesJets2375 provides us with some incredible insight here… “The Rays are gonna have to back to Tampa in a pumpkin.” I mean, I get that he’s trying to make a Cinderella joke. But wasn’t there a single clever comment that was actually written in English?

Also, what a generic name. I have a hard time believing this wasn’t written by some ESPN intern. Keep your eyes out for the next piece of incredible sports writing… hopefully someone named SportsFan2000 will tell us, “The Phillies just the World Series, now they are it now.”

“Jets Expecting a Dogfight in a Dark Place Today”  Maybe I’m just being nitpicky here, but isn’t it a little soon to be reminding NFL fans about dogfighting? Couldn’t there have been a less controversy-related headline to go with?

• Jets Expecting Drunken Boat Revelry Today
• Jets Expecting Pain Killer Overdoses Today
• Jets Expecting Beating the Hell Out Of Some Strippers Today

I mean, those are just a few possible alternatives I thought up, I’m sure the guys getting paid to do this could find an even better one.

From mhfitness mag.com. I hope the roof didn't collapse on Malarchuk's head as soon as that picture was taken.

How do both of the things in the linked article happen to one person? One would think the “jugular vein slashed with ice skate” thing would be enough to prove that luck isn’t exactly on the guy’s side. And yeah, he had the rifle to begin with, but how many people probably do exactly what he did without incident? I’m thinking “many.” And what’s more, he’ll probably downplay the incident, modestly saying something like “that’s how it goes.” Not for most of us, Clint – thankfully.

I don’t have much to say about MTV’s new reality competition series, “Paris Hilton’s My New BFF,” because I always tell everyone at the newspaper that “I don’t watch MTV, ever.” But that’s a lie; if I never watched it, I’d never have a legitimate answer for when people asked why I hated it, other than the boilerplate “No music videos!”

So I watched it tonight. I watched the second half of the new Paris Hilton series. I want to tell you why it’s bad, and why its good.

First, the bad. Though she starred in “The Simple Life,” Hilton is a failure as a TV personality. She’s a distant, aloof heiress who doesn’t concern herself with the issues of those she considers below her — a tragic mistake for a show where all the contestants are her subordinates. She comes off as sad, as would anyone who needs a TV show to make a friend. The competitions are cheesy, and the contestants are predictable. And as easy as it is to take a shot at this, it’s impossible to ignore the sickening feeling you get when you watch dozens of attractive young people fawn over a woman who really doesn’t deserve the praise or attention.

But the show isn’t so horrible as to warrant violence, certainly not “Tila Tequila”-level unwatchable. Watching the contestants admit that they’re lying about everything they say is refreshing. None of these people want to be Hilton’s friend — they want to be famous themselves. And when they admit it, as some did in the premiere, it’s refreshing to hear. It’s also fun to know that one day, your grand-kids may ask you about it, since it’s probably the most horrible premise for a show in the history of television. Watch “My New BFF,” and you’re watching history.

There is some strange attraction that I have to Hilton. It’s not physical, because I find her a bit muleish and bland. There’s this itch, somewhere in the back of my mind, that she might not be as dumb as she seems. She’s never done anything to prove her intelligence — quite the opposite, in fact. But sometimes I think she’s a modern day Andy Kaufman, and that she’s consciously playing with an American public so crazed with celebrity that they’ll accept anyone, anyone, to fill the role, no matter how talented. And when I think about that, I just can’t help but love this girl and every hilarious, terrible new joke she plays.

This column ran in today’s inside beat, the weekly entertainment section of The Daily Targum. That neat photo of me ran above the column, meaning my face is now famous.

Whether you’re a freshman involved in your seventh ice-breaker of orientation, looking for an easy way to start a conversation at a party, or just chatting at a bus stop, there is one no-fail topic for people our age: old school Nickelodeon.

Before you throw your newspaper computer down and announce to everyone that you remember “Rugrats,” take a moment to read on. This is not a column remembering the good old days. Instead, I’m attempting to help the Rutgers Internet community raise the level of intelligent discourse surrounding the programs we all remember.

Which leads perfectly into rule number one: Everyone remembers Nickelodeon from their childhood. There is no need to start conversation by asking a group, “Hey, remember old school Nick?!” The only reason for not remembering is if you didn’t have cable as a child. If that’s the case, kindly excuse yourself from the conversation. After the non-cable people have exited the discussion, it will be assumed that everyone knows what you’re talking about.

The second rule is perhaps the most important: Though it is fun to remember these programs, it’s not OK to simply shout their names back and forth and say “Awww!” when someone mentions your favorite. This is the lowest form of Nickelodeon chat, and is usually engaged in by people who don’t actually remember anything but the names of the shows.

Rule number three: Not every show on Nickelodeon was great, and the network is not horrible now. I’m not here to tell you that your childhood was a waste – rather, you’re probably misremembering part of it if you think “Salute Your Shorts” was anything but awful. Go ahead; try watching it now and enjoying it as anything but campy nostalgia.

The sad truth is, many of the shows you grew up watching were terrible. It’s fine to remember those days fondly. But be careful when you say, “’The Amanda Show’ was so great, all Nick shows today are terrible,” because you’re lying. “Amanda” was a miserable show; “SpongeBob,” “The Fairly OddParents” and “The Naked Brothers Band” are some of the best shows they’ve ever had. It’s hard to accept sometimes, but everything wasn’t better when you were a kid.

So what should you do if you really care about the Nick shows you enjoyed as a child? Enforce these basic rules wherever you can. If you hear people breaking any of them (especially the second), step in and declare that you hate one of their beloved shows. Their initial shock with throw their conversation off course, at which point you may redact the statement, then help direct them to a more meaningful discussion. It’s tough to be a TV grump, but they’ll thank you in the end.

It’s great fun to debate the merits of old Nickelodeon shows. If you think “Hey Arnold!” was better than “Doug,” and can explain why, then there’s no need to waste everyone’s time with mindless sessions of yelling show names. All of us who actually remember the great (and not-so-great) programs of our past will be more than happy to talk about it like grown-ups.

This puzzle design is... questionable.

Now, I can’t be the only one who saw this today. Come on, people, that’s a Nazi puzzle! Maybe creator Peter A. Collins really didn’t see the swastika outline he designed, but I think it’s hard to miss.

Completed puzzle image via Rex Parker

That’s the TOMCAT Snap Trap, one of the best kills in the mouse trap game. Guaranteed to rid your house of mice! (Guarantee not guaranteed.) Cleanup is a breeze — just take it to the trash, open it up, and the mouse drops right now. Your little mouse problem will be solved in just a few days, no fuss, no muss.

Unless you’re a wuss. Then, you begin to think about the little mouse as you’re getting ready to smear peanut butter on the trigger. And you think about his adorable adventures, and the mouse children waiting for him to come home so they can give him hugs. And then it becomes a whole lot harder to set that trap.

Here at 144 Easton, we have a mouse problem. We’ve seen a mouse on three independent occasions, in three different rooms in the span of a week or so. The debate we have is whether we’ve seen three mice, or the same mouse three times. The general consensus seems to be that if he’s a lone rodent, he is allowed to live, because he’s sort of a house pet. As long as he doesn’t eat our food, he isn’t hurting us.

But if it’s a legion of mice, then its trap time. We feel no remorse killing mice if there’s a chance that they are part of a larger infestation. So how would one go about figuring out the number of mice currently running through the home?

I toyed with the idea of catching him safely and turning him into a pet, but that’s a whole lot of effort. One roommate (Cromwell) brought up the idea of tagging him with RFID and tracking him. That’s much more work than putting him in a cage.

So, it seemed like our only choice was murder. But how powerful are there traps? Slowly, we put our fingers in them and let them snap from various heights. In the end, though, we touched the trigger at full strength and let it snap onto our fingers, and suffered only a minor pinch. Could this really snap a mouse’s neck instantly? It did minimal damage to a piece of bread we tested it on.

I even let it grip onto my lip to take about 15 pictures like this (I wanted a good one). Mind you, I didn’t let it snap on my lip. But just leaving in there pinching like that felt no different than a clothes pin.

My greatest fear is that the mouse goes into the trap, it partially severs the neck, and he runs around with the trap on his head, spreading blood all over the floor before the pressure painfully and slowly beheads him.

So the deal is this:

• I don’t want to kill one mouse who has spent his whole life building passages around this apartment and just runs around having adventures
• I do want to prevent an infestation
• If I have to kill a mouse, I want it to be painless
• My dad gave me these traps, and I can’t afford to buy a different kind

I trust that these will snap their brittle bones. But when I think of the mouse coming home to his kids with a big piece of cheese, and they all run up and give him a hug as he hangs his little hat on his mousy coat rack, I just feel sad.

I’m looking for some advice here. What would you do? Is killing a mouse a rite of passage for living on your own, or is it OK to share your space with a rodent if it’s cute and doesn’t harm your belongings?