The Joe Donatelli Column

*** I HAVE MOVED

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 20:18:00 +0000

I will no longer be updating this site. I now have a WordPress-style blog at joedonatelli.com. The column and the podcast are updated there. Thank you.

Photos of podcast guests

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 19:47:00 +0000

(Phil Ranta - pimp)

In opposition to the Open Door Policy

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:05:00 +0000

I’m easy to get along with when it comes to relationships. No games. No drama. I have my faults, but I learn. I’m far from high-maintenance. To put it in the parlance of women, “I’m not your ‘skinny jeans,’ the expensive ones that are a pain in the ass to put on and restrict your ability to eat and breathe. I’m your ‘comfy jeans’ – good old, reliable, always-there-when-you-need-them, don’t-care-how-big-your-ass-is comfy jeans. That’s me, the kind of jeans a girl could settle down with and maybe raise a pair of shorts.”

I don’t have a lot of rules. In fact, I really only have one special rule. As low-maintenance as I am, you’d think this rule would be something universally reasonable, but it has proved to be surprisingly controversial.

Rule 1 (of 1): Please close the bathroom door.

That’s it. Simple, right?

Wrong.

I have talked to married couples about the Open Door Policy and it is fair to say – through my unscientific polling – that three out of every four leaves the door open when nature – in both of its glorious forms – calls. I can hardly begin to explain how much this bothers me. It’s huge – a complete deal-breaker.

There are very practical reasons to close the door. The main reason is that I don’t want to smell or hear anything you’ve got going on in there. If I did, I would occasionally open the door while you’re in there and say, “Hey babe, I just want to get a big waft of what you’ve got cooking. Let’s turn off the fan. I want to savor this.”

That will never happen.

On a more personal level, I want the door closed because it preserves my positive mental image of you. When I think of my girlfriend, I don’t want to think of a half-dressed woman grunting on the pot while thumbing through a gnarled, old Us Weekly. We cannot choose the images that are seared into our brains forever. There is one girl I went out with who will always be Orange Girl. We went out, went to a bar, she had a tan and the funky bar lighting hit her and she looked orange. Now she’s Orange Girl forever. It’s burned in my brain. I can’t marry someone who, when she calls my cell phone, my mental image is of her nodding her “no” with her face scrunched up while spraying a can of Glade.

(Above: This couple is fucked.)

I have this theory. When you’re in a relationship with a woman, you’re actually in a relationship with three women. You are dating the woman as she is, full of virtues and faults, and that is the Real Woman. You also are dating the woman as you want to see her, an idealized vision of the woman that encompasses all of her virtues. She is the Wonder Woman. The third woman you are dating is the woman who scares you to death, filled with faults and problems than can’t be ignored – the Psycho Woman.

(You can replace Man with Woman in each case. This cuts both ways.)

When you start dating, the woman you meet is the Wonder Woman. After six months, or when you move in together, the Real Woman emerges and eats – sometimes literally – the Wonder Woman. Most of the time, Real Woman is just as lovable as Wonder Woman because you understand that her virtues outweigh her faults.

This is how you can tell where Wonder Woman starts and Real Woman stops. The first time you tell your mom about your new love, the words you use to describe her are actually describing the Wonder Woman.

A man would never say, “Julie is an account executive who lacks confidence because her parents were pieces of crap, which is why she never pursued her dream of dancing and instead embarked on a career path she does not enjoy. She drinks too much wine.”

A man would say, “Julie is smart and professional and she loves to dance and have a good time.” That’s his Wonder Woman.

When a guy complains, he complains about the Psycho Woman. He is only seeing the parts of her that emerge when 1.) She does not want to be in the relationship anymore 2.) She feels she is not being treated with the respect she deserves 3.) The relationship has outpaced her maturity.

There you have it – my Three Woman Hypothesis. Every relationship is Big Love. This is why men drink.

All of which, unbelievably, brings me to my point.

I object to an Open Door Policy because – besides being gross – it destroys my mental image of both the Real Woman and the Wonder Woman. The Real Woman is always in flux. She is a battle between the best things about her versus the worst things, and the last thing I need is a “worst things” visual of my girlfriend on the can. Worse, the Wonder Woman image gets completely annihilated. The woman you respect so much, the wind beneath your wings, the soul mate who comprises best parts of yourself reflected for the whole world to see – she’s gone. She’s taking a dump in a Port-O-Let.

Not to get all Carrie Bradshaw on you – why not? the movie is a hit – the first time the bathroom door is left open, it signals a change in the relationship – a point of no return. If you take the open door without comment, expect other degradations to follow. Most couples can handle it, but not all and certainly not me. If you fight to close the door, remember that you are not only fighting for a sanitary living environment, you also are fighting for the essence of your relationship. You are saying, “A heart can only be open when a bathroom door is closed.”

(To hear Mike, Sean, Joe, Chris Mosier and Dan Donatelli discuss this column on The Second Column podcast on iTunes, click here. No iTunes? Click here.)

New site under construction

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 22:14:00 +0000

Hey all, I am upgrading joedonatelli.com. Don't freak out if it's not there when you click on it. It will be back sometime next week.

Thank you for your patience.

For your troubles I leave you with a link to the excellent Web site Lasagna Cat.

How long should you wait to call?

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 20:54:00 +0000

It is a question that has plagued single men for the last 12 years.

How long should a guy wait to call a girl after he gets her phone number?

Before the 1996 movie “Swingers,” this was a non-issue. I was in college in 1996. When you got a girl’s phone number, you called her a day or two later – end of story. “Swingers” – because it was so brilliantly written and acted and directed – introduced a whole new level of neuroticism to the dating scene. Suddenly men were dealing with an issue that had never been an issue. Here is a link to the scene that caused the insanity.

After watching this movie, otherwise normal men started asking, “How long do I wait to call? Three days? Six days? Is that money?” We became deathly afraid of scaring away nice babies who were ready to party. Meanwhile a nation of women waited on the other end of a phone that took longer and longer to ring wondering what the hell we were doing. It is no coincidence that this is the same time that Alanis Morissette’s career took off. We gave single women the slim opening they needed to get into angry chick rock. Lilith Fair started in 1997. These things are not accidents.

More than a decade later it’s clear that “Swingers” has proved to be both a blessing and a curse. On one level it is hilarious and one of the most quotable comedies ever and has brought years of joy to my friends and me, especially when we’re in Las Vegas. On another level, this movie ushered in an unfortunate era of poor dating etiquette, wallet chains and martini shirts.

(Above: There are guys who still dress like this.)

The movie’s good far outweighs the bad, but the bad is regrettable. This is not the movie’s fault. We just weren’t ready for it.

The best historical parallel I can draw is when a bulimic Kimberly on “Diff’rent Strokes” taught young girls everywhere how to eat all they want and still stay thin. America was not ready for this information. Young women never saw the dark side of bulimia, only its practicality and joy. The same went for “Swingers.” The characters were cool guys. They could pull off waiting six days to call a girl. Sophomores at Ohio University could not. We were not cool. Guys got depressed and mopey. All of the sudden Radiohead got huge. These things are all connected.

So here we are today – the year 2008 – and my friend Mike gets a phone number and asks me, “How long do you think I should wait to call her?”

My first thought was, “This must end.”

I will answer this question once and for all.

I love “Swingers.” It’s a great movie. Line-for-line it’s probably the best comedy of the 1990s. The key word is comedy. The “how long do I wait to call?” scene was not intended as a template for courtship. The intention of that scene was to satirize the jerks who populated the Los Angeles dating scene in the mid-1990s. (Sadly, things are now worse. Today’s Los Angeles woman looks back on “Swingers” as a more innocent time, a “Little House on the Prairie” era compared to the current “Flavor of Love” scene.) Unfortunately there are men who still ask themselves or their buddies, “How long do I wait to call?”

The correct answer is – it doesn’t matter, call her when you’re ready. That was the point of the entire movie, which for some reason everyone always forgets, instead choosing to embrace the lasting memory of “those guys’ shirts were pretty awesome.”

(To hear Mike, Carlos, Joe and Lauren Ashley Bishop discuss "How long should you wait to call?" on The Second Column podcast on iTunes, click here. No iTunes? Click here.)

Win a date with Carlos

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 20:00:00 +0000

On this week's Second Column podcast we discovered that Carlos has never been on a real date. He has been out with women in group situations, but he has never had an actual "dinner and a movie" style date with a woman one-on-one.

Ladies, this is your lucky day.

You can win a date with Carlos Jaime, who is hands down one of the funniest guys in Los Angeles. To enter, send us one paragraph or roughly 100 words explaining why you or someone you know (who is willing) should be Carlos's first date. Please attach a photo or a link to your picture online. Send all entries to winadatewithcarlos@gmail.com. You must be local to the Los Angeles area to enter. The Second Column podcast will choose the winner on the air.

Carlos has agreed to pay for the food and entertainment portion of the date.

As Carlos's friend, I can honestly say he is a great guy -- a little shy -- but once you meet him, he easily becomes one of the greatest people you will ever know.

George Will needs his own comedy show

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 22:37:00 +0000

You rarely see Colbert get owned like this. He admits as much at the end.

The United States of Monkey Robot Overlords

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 17:50:00 +0000

Monkey think, monkey do (Reuters)

Monkeys control a robot arm with thoughts (International Herald Tribune)

Monkeys control robots with their minds (CNN)

“Two monkeys with tiny sensors in their brains have learned to control a mechanical arm with just their thoughts, using it to reach for and grab food and even to adjust for the size and stickiness of morsels when necessary, scientists reported on Wednesday.” (IHT)

World Almanac: 2018
United States

Background
Britain's American colonies broke with the mother country in 1776 and were recognized as the new nation of the United States of America following the Treaty of Paris in 1783. During the 19th and 20th centuries, 37 new states were added to the original 13 as the nation expanded across the North American continent and acquired a number of overseas possessions. Buoyed by victories in World Wars I and II and the end of the Cold War in 1991, the US was the world’s most powerful nation state until it was annihilated by an army of monkey robots in March 2009.

Location
North America, bordering both the North Atlantic Ocean and the North Pacific Ocean, between Canada and Mexico

Natural hazards
Tsunamis, volcanoes, and earthquake activity around Pacific Basin; hurricanes along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts; tornadoes in the midwest and southeast; mud slides in California; forest fires in the west; laser-wielding platoons of monkey robots throughout

Environment
Air pollution resulting in acid rain; water pollution from runoff of pesticides and fertilizers; limited natural fresh water in much of the western part of the country requires careful management; impassible terrain caused by massive banana peel slippage

Population (Human)
412 (Jan. 2017 Est.)

Net migration rate
0 migrant(s)/1,000 population (2017 est.)

Life expectancy at birth
total population: 17.1 years
male: 15.5 years
female: 19.2 years (2017 est.)

Religions
Protestant 51.3%, Roman Catholic 23.9%, Mormon 1.7%, other Christian 1.6%, Jewish 1.7%, Buddhist 0.7%, Muslim 0.6%, other or unspecified 2.5%, unaffiliated 12.1%, Zaius Orthodox 9 %, none 4% (2017 est.)

Languages
English 82.1%, Spanish 10.7%, other Indo-European 3.8%, high-pitched shrieking 2.7%, other 0.7%

Literacy
definition: age 15 and over can read and write
total population: 43%
male: 42%
female: 44% (2017 est.)

Government type
Nomadic tribal

Capital
Rock Island, Ill. (AKA “Humanity’s Last Stand”)

Independence
4 July 1776 (from Great Britain)

Loss of Independence
12 March 2009 (to monkey robot junta)

First Constitution
17 September 1787 to 12 March 2009

Second (Current) Constitution
“Live together, die alone.”

Legal system
Federal court system based on English common law replaced with “eye for an eye”

Executive branch
Chief of state: The male who owns most bullets; currently Fred SHERMAN, former pro bass fishing champion

Legislative branch
Congress: All survivors ages 15 and older

Judicial branch
Supreme court: Three oldest members of the tribe; currently Sam PETERSON (24), Sue SHIN (22), Diego GALVEZ (22)

Political parties and leaders
Anti-Monkey Robot Party (Fred SHERMAN); Pro-Monkey Robot Alliance (Howard GREEN); Green Party (Kat LARSON)

Flag description
13 equal horizontal stripes of red (top and bottom) alternating with white; there is a blue rectangle in the upper hoist-side corner bearing a bloody monkey robot head on a pike; the bloody monkey robot head on a pike represents Americans’ desire to put every monkey robot head on a pike; the bloody monkey robot head on a pike design is the basis for every other flag on earth, save France

Economy
The US once had the largest and most technologically powerful economy in the world. It has since been replaced by tracking and bow hunting

Currency
Bananas, potable water and photos and music from “the before-time”

Communications
Smoke signals, tree markings, bloody monkey robot heads on a pike

Military
All Americans over the age of 7 are required to serve in the military

International disputes
The illegal monkey robot junta that controls Washington, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston and the San Diego Zoo has waged perpetual war on India and Brazil, the world’s top banana-producing nations; 1990 Maritime Boundary Agreement in the Bering Sea still awaits Russian Duma ratification.

(To hear Mike, Carlos, Joe and Doug Driesel Jr. discuss "The United States of Robot Monkey Overlords" on The Second Column podcast on iTunes, click here. No iTunes? Click here.)

Go see Paige White in 'i Gelosi'

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Fri, 30 May 2008 22:30:00 +0000

Paige is a cast member of my improv group Pangea and she is getting rave reviews for her role in the play "I Gelosi."

For you fans of the podcast, Paige is the woman with the hot voice who does each episode's intro and outro.

Craziest female video game characters

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Thu, 29 May 2008 21:42:00 +0000

This article -- which is fantastic -- was written by friend and loyal reader Soren Bowie.

The truth is in the silence

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 25 May 2008 19:15:00 +0000

I was drinking cut-rate Mexican beer at the outdoor bar of a Flamenco dinner theater in Hollywood when a friend introduced me to a striking blonde. The three of us spoke for several minutes. Our mutual friend then wisely excused himself.

We had a good conversation. There was a lot of agreeing, which was a positive sign, because I am usually right. I mentally checked through my list of turn-ons and turn-offs. She wasn’t a smoker – good. She wasn’t impossibly shy – good. She looked good in jeans – good. I saw a level of compatibility. I’m not saying I heard wedding bells, but I did think, “Here is someone I enjoy talking to.”

Then it happened.

It always happens in conversations.

But this time it really happened. In fact, it’s still happening in my head weeks later, which is why I feel compelled to write about it.

A break in the conversation occurred – a moment of silence. There was a natural pause that gave both of us a chance to appraise the future of our short relationship.

When such a break occurs, I have learned that one of four things is about to happen.

1. Both parties smile, relax and resume the conversation. By doing this you send a signal. You’re saying, “I want to be here. I could have excused myself to go to the bathroom or left you to order another cut-rate Mexican beer or gone off to make sure my car tires were still properly aligned, but I didn’t. I stayed. I like you.”

2. One person comments on the silence. This is risky. You either come off looking very lame or very cool. It’s exactly like owning a Vespa.

(Above: The Vespa -- a knife that cuts both ways.)

3. Both parties look in the opposite direction and slowly pivot their bodies away from each other and pretend they never met. I perfected this maneuver in high school. It is sad the way the guy who goes to the grocery store after work to buy one can of Foster’s is sad. That’s like Level-3 Sad on the Sad 5-Scale.

4. One or both parties politely excuse themselves.

It turns out there is another option.

You also can mumble something, put your head down and bowl across the restaurant with the speed and determination of Minnesota Vikings running back Adrian Peterson. I didn’t know this was one of the options until that night at Flamenco dinner theater bar. I would advise against this option because every time I see the blonde Adrian Peterson I will think, “That’s the girl who ran 35 yards through the heart of the restaurant’s defense during the first break of our first conversation.”

(Above: The real Adrian Peterson runs away from a conversation with Vikings quarterback Tarvaris Jackson.)

Could she have had a bathroom emergency? It’s possible, but not likely. I saw her later and if she was not feeling well, her illness did not send her home and it did not show. The real sin – in my book – was that when we crossed paths the second time she did not acknowledge her awkward exit. She pretended it did not happen, ignoring the fart in our conversational elevator.

If she had said “Sorry about before but I really had to bust a wiz,” I would have laughed and remembered her forever as a superior brand of woman. That kind of honesty is rare and awesome and fun. Just once I’d like to hear a girl excuse herself for five minutes, come back and say, “I wouldn’t go in the women’s room for the next 35 to 45 minutes” and then make an exploding-bomb noise.

These are my fantasies.

I have problems.

Dave's letter to Mike from this week's podcast

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 25 May 2008 19:10:00 +0000

Dearest Mike,

I would just like to formally apologize for my hurtful comments and sour insinuations regarding both your method of eating In-N-Out burgers and your span of knowledge of English-language vocabulary (or lack thereof). You have been my best friend for over 12 years now, and I felt it was time to be undeviatingly honest with you. In retrospect it may have been best to have kept those said comments to myself.

As I listened to the four of you gorge yourselves on In-N-Out burgers, my delicate ears were abruptly polluted by the nauseating cacophony of your smacking lips and mouths. It resembled a feeding frenzy of a pack of ravenous wolves as they descended upon an innocent collection of adorable baby chickens and sweet, appealing white rabbits. I came perilously close to vomiting my gourmet ramen lunch. I demand that you publicly apologize for this transgression.

One smacking mouth sound particularly irked me, and I naturally assumed it was you, Mike. As both my best friend and having actually lived with you, I know that you have the revolting habit of eating with your mouth as wide open as your fly after draining your hairy Italian lizard (unfortunately, yes, I have seen it before).

You skillfully dodged my accusation; however, I think your explanation that you turned off your microphone as you greedily feasted on In-N-Out is a crock of festering shit. But I'll be the bigger man (literally) and apologize anyways ... you fuckin' open-mouth-eating pansy. Knowing that In-N-Out isn't available in Japan, you ate it during your podcast just to spite me. You also did it to devilishly tease that charitable vessel-of-the-angels guest of yours (Phil Ranta). That just goes to show how much of an asshole you are.

I also want to apologize for pointing out that you constantly misuse English vocabulary. Having spent the last four and a half years in Japan, I will humbly admit that I have lost about 50% of my former knowledge of English. Nevertheless, I still retain enough of my native language to know that when it comes to any word over three syllables, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Just ask Joe. Now there's a smart guy that knows what he's talking about. Joe - could you please explain the meaning of the word "plight" to Mister Mike Constantly-burping-tini?

Well, I guess that's it. I'm truly sorry from the bottom of my heart, you crybaby bitch.

Love,
Dave

P.S. So since I technically apologized, we're cool now ... right, Mike? Cuz I still need a place to crash when I'm visiting LA. I can't stay at my parents' house anymore because you STOLE MY DAD from me. Oh, and if you break his heart, I'll kill you.

Anus -- it's what's for dinner

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Fri, 23 May 2008 17:45:00 +0000

Finally, mail-order chocolate anus. Thanks to reader Sarah B. for passing this on and special thanks to Belgium for being so perverted.

The boys of The Second Column podcast

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Thu, 22 May 2008 17:59:00 +0000

We took some promotional photos for The Second Column podcast. Here's one that didn't make the cut. We'll be shooting more soon.

(Above: Left to right - Sean, Mike, Joe and Carlos.)

Rare KISS performance

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Wed, 21 May 2008 21:17:00 +0000

Can something be wonderful and horrible at the same time?

Yes, it can.

I have proof.

Thanks to reader Marc Thomas for passing along this link.

How to tell if someone is a towering mediocrity

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 18 May 2008 21:14:00 +0000

Every office has at least one untalented employee who has managed an inexplicable rise to the top. They all have one thing in common. They are all towering mediocrities.

What is a towering mediocrity? A towering mediocrity is someone who takes mediocre to new and less-exciting levels. When achieving above-average results requires one more hour of work and achieving below-average results requires all the skill of a lost sock, this employee splits the difference evenly. He never takes risks. He never screws up. He is deemed safe. Apply some strategic brown-nosing and suddenly management has an employee it can depend on – a permanent C-plus solution. You probably have worked for such non-persons. Mike Judge made an excellent movie about this called Office Space.

The reason I bring this up is because Ryan Seacrest has been in the news lately. (How’s that for a back-handed, backdoor lead?) In March Washington Post writer Tom Shales – who is to television what Roger Ebert is to movies and what I am to robot love – wrote a 2,800-word article on Ryan Seacrest and The Man, The Brand, The Plan To Rule TV.

The article was interesting for a couple reasons. First of all, if Shales is writing 2,800 words about your career it means you have gone through the stratosphere. It’s like making the cover of Sports Illustrated if you’re an athlete or getting your picture put up at the post office if you’re a felon. It is a public signal that you have arrived. There may be other carjackers – but you are the it carjacker.

The most interesting thing about the article -- to me -- is that Shales has written an almost-perfect manual on how to spot a towering mediocrity both in the celebrity world and in your midst.

To wit:

A towering mediocrity is not original.

"One reason I started doing New Year's Eve on Fox five years ago was because I wanted to create the perception that I could be the next Dick Clark," says the 33-year-old host of Fox's "American Idol," television's megahit. " 'American Idol' is my 'American Bandstand.' Dick and I are actually partners in that New Year's Eve show."

"I had a total, 100 percent strategy to be the Dick Clark for our generation," he says, "to be the Merv Griffin for our generation, to be the Larry King for our generation."

Truly talented people don’t strive to be the someone else. They become the themselves of their generation. I am talking about original talents like Howard Stern, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, Johnny Depp, Hunter S. Thompson, Michael Jordan, Billie Jean King, Margaret Thatcher, etc. If someone in your office says, “I want to be the next VP of operations Jerry Atwater,” that person is your office Seacrest.

A towering mediocrity sounds like an idiot when he brags.

"It was a blessing for me that I knew exactly what my path was when I was 9 years old," he says. "Everything I did, every detail, every step I took I knew was a step closer to what I wanted.

"I knew there'd be about 3 million steps, but I also knew I had to get through them."

Really? You let your 9-year-old self dictate the course of your adult life? Nine-year-olds can barely read. Their bike-riding skills are shoddy at best. Many 9-year-olds require the use of a tee to hit a baseball. These are not people you should trust with your career, let alone a two-strike count with a stationary baseball resting before them.

(Above: Would you trust him with your career?)

A towering mediocrity has no meaningful skills.

Remember that these two paragraphs were taken from a glowing profile.

It's not that he's multi-talented; he's anti-talented, not a performer but a professional "personality," the latest variation on a type as old as broadcasting: the guy who stands there and introduces the acts. He's a low-key cheerleader who keeps the show moving and, with the judges as natural foils, allies himself with the audience and the contestants, never threatening to upstage the performers, even if he could…

Seacrest isn't lovable, nor foolish enough to try to be. He's just aiming for tolerable -- bull's-eye.

Shales might as well have written, “To his credit, Seacrest has never tried to shove the microphone directly up his own nose.”

Towering mediocrities have mantras that make no logical sense.

"I don't know everything, but I certainly want to try everything," says the ultra-acquisitive hotshot. "I've lived that way all my life, and it's gotten me this far."

“I don’t know everything…”
First of all, no one knows everything. Why would you feel the need to say that, unless you are trying to appear humble in the face of your own awesomeness? It’s an ego trip line. What he is saying is “I am rich and successful, but I don’t know everything, which makes my richness and successfulness all the more amazing, because I did it on personal guile and instinct.”

“But I certainly want to try everything…”
No one wants to try everything. Would you like to try slicing a Golden Retriever puppy in half and feasting on its entrails? That's a horrible thing. No one would try that. So don’t say you want to try everything because clearly you do not want to try puppy tartare.

“I’ve lived that way all my life, and it’s gotten me this far.”
In other words, knowing as much as the next guy knows and wanting to try everything but not actually trying everything has gotten me this far in life.

Genius.

Towering mediocrities like to tell you they are very, very, very busy.

Thus when asked whether there's anything about himself he'd like to change, he pauses longer than most of us would but finally says: "I'd like an eighth day of the week -- to go to the grocery store or take a walk on the beach, little things like that. Maybe go out and get some gas put in my cars since I don't have time." That's right, he's too busy to fill 'er up: "I have someone who fills my tank because my day is so crowded, I can't find 15 minutes to stop."

When I get famous, here’s my stock answer for when an interviewer asks me if there is anything I would like to change about myself.

Joe stroked his powerful bicep for a moment longer than most of us would and said, “I’d like an eighth day of the week – to go shopping, take a walk in the park, start a garden, something nice like that. I suppose, while we’re at it, I’d also like a ninth day of the week so I can donate more time to my foundation that helps malnourished babies gain confidence. A 10th day would also be good because, and I don’t like to talk about this in public, but I’ve been financing a small team of researchers at the Cleveland Clinic who are making some real strides towards ending old-people cancer. I’d really like to get more hands-on with the research, the test tubes, the nitty-gritty. Right now I don’t even have time to use the toilet. One of my assistants changes my colostomy bag every half-hour. She sends its contents to an organic farm in Oregon every day at 5. I’d love to have the time to put my own feces and urine in the mail. Can't. Just too busy.”

Towering mediocrities take lots of pride in using their common sense and/or showing just one ounce of initiative.

He confesses to having been too "robotic" when he started out as "Idol" host (actually co-host, with a partner since jettisoned from the show). "I did something in the second year that helped a lot," he says. "I took the IFB out of my ear." The IFB is a tiny earphone that pipes control-room chatter and guidance from the producer into his head. "I took it out so the control room could not speak to me during the show, at least when we were live, and that helped a lot.

Office parallel: I did the whole presentation without PowerPoint. Fuck PowerPoint! I carved the pie charts and graphs into my chest with a rusty blade. We teleconferenced eight ways using a metal filling in one of my teeth. I used my bare ass as a whiteboard. No one can control me in a meeting. I am the meeting.

Towering mediocrities enjoy semi-risqué, ultimately safe banter with the boss.

Of course the pot that gets stirred the most, and results in the snottiest or sparkliest moments, is the one from which judge Simon Cowell gets his wisecracks and insults, the ones aimed at Seacrest as well as at the aspiring performers. “Those moments are pretty real,” Seacrest says.

In lieu of contributing any actual ideas, there is always one guy who gives the boss a little bit of shit. This is basically all the guy can contribute to the company as far as you can tell – playfully knocking the boss down a few notches every now and then. He’s the company jester. The boss can’t fire him because he would look like a dick. So he has a job forever, for reasons that escape the entire office.

Towering mediocrities take no risks.

My biggest problem with the Seacrests of the world are that they choose bland and safe over risky and interesting. In that sense, Seacrest is the perfect successor to Larry King, an interviewer who never met an interesting topic that he couldn’t suck every last ounce of entertainment from. When Paula Abdul went crazy and started hearing songs that did not exist on a recent episode of American Idol, Seacrest covered for her saying, “You’re seeing the future.” He completely glossed over the interesting reality of what was happening in front of him in order to keep the show moving, when clearly Paula’s insanity has been the most entertaining thing on Idol this year. This type of move will endear you to bosses, but not to fans.

In all fairness to Seacrest, I think he is good at what he does, but the fact that he has risen to the stature of Hollywood heavy speaks more to the nature of what is acceptable on the public airwaves than the level of his own skills, such as they may be. A Ryan Seacrest, much like a newspaper or a shaving cream advertisement, is designed to appeal to the broadest number of people by not offending them or challenging them in any manner.

Seacrest and your mediocre manager are one and the same. This, I think, explains many people's irrational loathing of the American Idol host. They are both something safe that people who make more money than you can trust. They are not scary and do not rock the boat. Their image and their connections matter more than their ability, a fact that is offensive to most hardworking people. At the end their careers -- whether they ever admit it or not -- both the mediocre celebrity and the mediocre manager wake up rich and dissatisfied, realizing that their entire working lives have been built upon a foundation of nothing. They sacrificed their own sense of self for the public or for the corporation. Neither gave a damn back.

(To hear Mike, Sean, Carlos, Phil Ranta and me talk about this column on The Second Column podcast on iTunes, click here.)

Video of Bill O'Reilly's producer

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Fri, 16 May 2008 22:58:00 +0000

Even if you have not seen the original video of Bill O'Reilly going nuclear, you can still enjoy this great video mash-up posted on Kontraband.

Extending album art

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Thu, 15 May 2008 21:04:00 +0000

What a cool challenge. Thanks to Olivia for passing this along.

Using any tools available - you, your record collection, a camera, photoshop, a scanner, whatever works - show us what happens beyond the borders of classic album sleeves, how the artwork continues. Challenge open for TWO magnificent weeks.

Here is one from the site:

Here is one my brother Dan made:

Future governor of New York?

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Wed, 14 May 2008 18:44:00 +0000

Here is an amazing story from reader/friend/recent birthday girl Kelly S. about a 13-year-old from Texas who stole his dad's credit card to buy a pair of hookers. Yes, a pair -- because one hooker would just be boring. In true 13-year-old fashion, the kid and his friends played "Halo" on Xbox with the hookers all night in a motel room.

Best line of the article:

Ralph's ambition is to one day become a politician.

I can't vouch for the authenticity of the article -- there are not many links to this story and authorities usually don't release the names of minors. In fact, if I had to guess, it probably isn't true. But let's pretend it is, just because it makes the world more interesting today.

Are the aliens coming?

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Tue, 13 May 2008 23:05:00 +0000

I have not seen enough proof to conclude that aliens exist, but if the world's leaders were going to prepare us for a big alien announcement, this is one way they might do it -- with a low-key media campaign. I am no conspiracy theorist, but check out today's headlines:

UFO sightings in Britain made public

Vatican: It's OK to believe in aliens

Shuttle astronauts: Aliens are definitely out there

How else to account for the sudden surge in alien talk?

Of course, it also is entirely possible that I have watched too many UFO Files on The History Channel. Did you know there might be underwater UFOs?

The Kids in the Hall

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sun, 11 May 2008 22:50:00 +0000

On Friday night I attended a Kids in the Hall show at the Orpheum in Los Angeles. If you like comedy about hateful babies and super-drunk superheroes, I recommend checking out the Kids on their North American tour, which still has stops in Atlanta, Chicago and Cleveland among other places.

I love sketch comedy. I love the characters, the absurdity, the simplicity and the speed. If I have a friend and he’s in a sketch comedy show, I’m there. Even if the first five sketches are so-so, I want to see the sixth one that works. Then I want to tell people about it. Then I want to quote it for the rest of my life. I am hardwired to let people know about hateful babies. These are urges I cannot deny.

On the surface, people love sketch comedy because it is fun. Beneath the surface – and I think this is why some fans are fanatical about it – sketch comedy provides people with common cultural shorthand. If you love The Kids in the Hall and you meet someone else who loves The Kids in the Hall, you both know something about each other’s tastes and worldview. There are so many music groups and movies and television shows that it is hard to share common interests with people. There are only about ten great sketch comedy ensembles. If you’re a Monty Python freak and your date is a Monty Python freak, there is an excellent chance you will soon be doing silly walks together.

Men need this common cultural shorthand more than women. Women naturally are great communicators. They communicate verbally and nonverbally. They say things with their eyes. They purposefully leave things unsaid. They insinuate. They hint. They nudge. They even nudge things unsaid.

Men have two ways of communicating:

1. Directly
Men – real men, anyway – say what they mean.

Example
Ben: Steve, I need your shovel.
Steve: OK.

There is nothing insinuated or nudged unsaid here. That’s just straightforward talk.

2. Impressively
When men are not saying what they mean, they are trying to impress and entertain each other with wit and intelligence. Any conversation between two guys who don’t need shovels from each other will most likely evolve into some kind of comedy-quoting marathon.

Example
Ben: “You’re going to want that cowbell on the track.”
Steve: “I’ve got to have more cowbell, baby.”
Ben: “I have a fever and the only prescription … is more cowbell.”

This exchange inherently communicates the following things between any two men:

- You and I share much in common and our similar taste and background means we need not fight each other to the death
- I am enjoying this playful competition to see who can outwit each other, a competition that will replace us having to fight each other to the death
- I like you, but not in the way that will make us feel icky and force us to battle each other to the death

My buddy BA and I have had hours-long conversations consisting of nothing more than quoting The Simpsons seasons 1-11. (I’m not acknowledging the later Godfather III years.) The bottom line: BA and I have never tried to fight each other to the death.

For the record, because I don’t want to get all Sean Kearney here, I know that women watch sketch comedy, too, but rarely will you ever see two women at a party quoting The State sketches for 30 minutes straight. If you do, please let me know where this magical party is where all of my fantasies are coming true.

Before last Friday night’s show, I had never seen 2,000 people gathered in one place for sketch comedy. Before I get into the highlights of the Kids show, I want to put something out there. For every geeky 15-year-old kid who is home on Friday nights watching Mr. Show and Chappelle’s Show DVDs over and over, let me tell you about your future. Ten years from now your favorite sketch comedy group is going to reunite and go on tour and play a show in your town. You will attend with your very attractive girlfriend. I saw your future last Friday night at the Orpheum. You’re going to be fine.

Now back to the show. The Kids in the Hall excel at making the absurd normal. In one scene Dave Foley and Kevin McDonald fight over an imaginary girlfriend and in the end they are forced to “let her decide.” In another scene the gay character Buddy Cole (Scott Thompson) makes a rather convincing case that Jesus was gay saying, “He wanders with twelve other men drinking wine and washing each other’s feet. I went to a party like this.” In the final scene, the Head Crusher (Mark McKinney) makes an appearance, crushing each cast member’s head with his fingers as penance for his post-Kids career choices. The unkindest cut of all occurs when Dave Foley is lined up between thumb and pointer finger and the Head Crusher says, “Celebrity Poker.” Then Foley is crushed and dies.

If I meet someone at a party and he tries to crush my head, I know not to strike him down with my awesome blazing fists. We’re just communicating. Sketch comedy is one of the two universal languages spoken by guys everywhere. The other one is Caddyshack.

(To hear Mike, Sean, Carlos, Ed Galvez and me talk about this column on The Second Column podcast on iTunes, click here.)

Sean apologizes for being a chauvinist jerk

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Sat, 10 May 2008 18:47:00 +0000

(Above: Sean Kearney - Class A Jerk)

Here is the full text of Sean Kearney's apology to our female listeners. You can also hear an abreviated version of this 15 minutes into the "Kids in the Hall" The Second Column podcast, which will be posted Sunday.

Greetings Listeners,

As most of you are probably aware of, last week on this very podcast, I, Sean Kearney, made some comments that many interpreted as being disrespectful, and frankly dishonest, about the female listenership of this excellent show. Now the comments that were made by myself in no way were meant to incite such a misogynistic interpretation, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry not for the comments I made, but instead for the fact that you, the average listener /E-mailer, misinterpreted the words that I spoke.

Now before you write another enraged email, let me finish. I don't blame you Joe (or Jane) listener, for in this age of YouTubes, iPhotos, and cordless telephones, oftentimes the only thing a person knows about a specific incident is culled from soundbites taken out of context, and frankly, out of control.

While I enjoy technology as much as the next hip young "Walkman", I think that much like in the film "I, Robot," maybe we have gone a little too far. While most people heard my comments and wondered aloud, "Why would he say such a thing?" I asked myself the more difficult question: "Why was someone recording me while I said such a thing?" You see, without the help of a microphone, a computer, and especially, the Internet, my comments could not have been so quickly and easily disseminated to so many people, with such haste. So before you leap to judgment, remember, I only provided the bullets, it was iTunes that shot you with them.

But I still think that it is important that I address the comments I made, and how you the listener misinterpreted and misunderstood them. For those of you who didn't listen to last week's podcast, and decided to read this apology rather than listen to the podcast right now, we were discussing the way in which men are drawn to waitresses, and I made a few comments that insinuated that attractive females, and attractive female waitresses for that matter, don't regularly listen to our show.

Now while the comments that you have surely been hearing every day on loop, on a variety of Web sites, including the Mrs. Donatelli site, and The Daily Carlos, paint me as an evil woman-hating demon, the truth of the matter is that what I was trying to relay, albeit rather poorly, was a self-deprecating joke at the expense of myself and the fellow podcast members. Essentially I was trying to portray us as lonely, nerdy, and, well I think I'll use lonely again here, guys who in lieu of partying hard, and hitting on women would rather spend our Friday nights in a cold library with a bottle of Keystone Light, talking about gardening with Mike Costantini. And recording it. That was my only intention with my comments, self-deprecation. And while I believe my comments may have been misconstrued, and taken out of context, I believe that, in context, the overall message of self-deprecation is an important one, and I stand by it.

Self-deprecation is an important skill to us not just as comedians, but as people as well, because self-deprecating humor is a way for us to remind those around us that we are still human, full of faults and shortcomings. Self-deprecation reminds those around us that we aren't perfect, and we don't pretend to be, all while letting others no it's OK to laugh at us. Self-deprecation is like humility, if humility was funny.

I can no more disown my self-deprecating comments than I can disown the entire career of Rodney Dangerfield, one of the finest self-deprecating comedians of our time. I can no more disown my comments than I can disown my own self-deprecating uncle, an uncle who loved me, who took me on fishing trips, and gave me my first beer, but an uncle who once confessed that our family's Irish heritage had cursed us with small penises, in order to make a joke at what he thought was just his own expense. These people, and their comments are a part of me, and a part of a larger tradition of self-deprecation and a complete lack of ego or arrogance that I love.

And it is for these humble people, who want nothing more than to expose their own inadequacies to make others smile, that I will continue to make fun of myself.

I think it is important to mention that while I completely stand by my comments, I do believe that I did misspeak when I assumed that all attractive women are waitresses, though I do have an incredibly hot waitress girlfriend, I believe that attractive women come from all different types of career paths, and I would like to offer up a list of ten different beautiful women, complete with ten different, non-waitress jobs.

1. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider - Archeologist
2. Danica Patrick - Driver
3. I think her name was Candy, or Destiny – “Dancer”
4. Woman at the Macy's where I buy my pants - Retail
5. Drew Barrymore - Child Star (Not when she was a child, but now. Well, maybe not as much now, how about mid to late 90s?)
6. Mariah Carey - Fucking Insane
7. Jessica Simpson - I have no idea what she does anymore
8. Rogue from X-Men (Not the actress from the movie, the character)
9. Twenty-something I saw yesterday in a Mustang on the 101 - Don't know for sure, but I imagined she was a stripper/secret government agent
10. Everyone who read this letter - Various (This is a shameless attempt to win back your respect)

Publications I have written for

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Fri, 09 May 2008 18:16:00 +0000

(Scripps)

(ESPN)

(Ohio Today)

(Brides)

Video from my friend Dave

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Fri, 09 May 2008 02:38:00 +0000

He lives in Japan, a land where you can use Febreze for anything.

Seals and penguins living together ... mass hysteria

joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com (joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com) — Thu, 08 May 2008 04:14:00 +0000

This is perhaps the most disturbing story I have ever received from a reader. Thanks to Kelly S. for a BBC news report that will haunt my dreams forever.

This sentence pretty much sums it up:

Why the seal attempted to have sex with the penguin is unclear.

Enjoy.