Why does weather.com say that it's "fair" and that there's only a 10% chance of rain when, right there on the doppler weather radar, there's a big ole rainstorm comin' right this way?
I am so sick of stupidity, and you see it so many places.
Like the Broadway message board I sometimes post at (which doesn't need to be linked here). Everyone is a huge debate about the Tony Awards. They're going crazy about Michael Riedel's Tony predictions in today's New York Post. He makes a joke about Bernadette Peter's recent absences from Gypsy due to whatever strange ailments she's had, and says that perhaps her understudy, Maureen Moore, should be eligible for Tony consideration. (This was actually a joke that I had made the day before seeing it in his article, thank you kindly!) Now, the riff-raff on the board are taking this as Bernadette-slamming, which has been known to be a favored sport of Mr. Riedel. But it's just a joke. People need to get over it.
Stupidity.
I was at Borders Book Shop yesterday, and it's amazing some of the trash that they put on the shelves there. George Clooney's biography. It's an actual book, people. I can't figure out what they put in there that took up 300 pages. "I got drunk after we wrapped on 'ER' today" is only 9 words. I just think that the whole concept of celebrity the media's love affair with celebrity is wrong. I mean, the man's an actor. He spends a lot of his time at the gym. So what? He's 42 years old. I guess I just have a hard time with the concept of biographies on people who aren't dead yet. (Obviously, autobiographies are a different story, but people usually wait until they've done something besides a sitcom or a couple movies to write those). Oh well, at least I found out that they're going to put together a sequel to "Ocean's Eleven." Ocean's Twelve.
And yet the stuff that really matters never gets talked about. I was im'ing my sister yesterday, and I asked how she was.
"Sad."
"What's the matter?"
"One of my best clients was found murdered, and they just arrested her boyfriend."
In order to try and cheer her up, I told her I hoped that they put the boyfriend in a prison cell with a 350 pound black man named Bertha, who makes said boyfriend his bitch.
That's the kind of stuff that makes a difference, I tell ya.