We’ve Got A Channel For That!

A few months ago, my friend Lorenzo and I decided to enter a PSA contest for this year’s New York Television Festival.  After several hours of deliberation and filming we conjured up four pieces in response to the Festival organizer’s call for pieces that glorify the option of watching TV over doing other, probably more enriching activities.

Our clips trumpeted the thrill of TV over enjoyable pastimes of Travel, learning history, sex, and entertaining your children. Two of our four entries were accepted and this past Thursday, we made our way to the Tribeca Cinemas on Varick St. to see the fruit of our labor play out on the silver-ish screen.

I’d give you the play-by-play on all the excitement, but really, don’t you just want to see the PSA’s that made it? That’s what I thought. But first, a little photo to set the mood:

Now You Know What it Feels Like to Be There

Now, without any further ado: The PSA’s

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Sriracha!

Roland Sriracha Chili Sauce: For those times when you’re like, “Hey, I wonder where my Sriracha sauce is? Oh, that’s right, I probably left it in the bathroom.”

The Rugged-yet-Suave Scent of Victory (Superstition)

Victory. What does it smell like? Well, up until recently I might have defined it as the perfect fall Sunday; calm winds swirling in a grassy arena of combat; the hint of  dead leaves in the air as brut strength collides with brut strength above mud-filled trenches spilling blood, sweat, and tears all over the repeated exchange of an inflated, oblong pork hide.

Defeat? Well I guess I saw that as pretty much the same thing, only the stench of mud in your nose is a lot more apparent.

Turns out I didn’t know as much about the scent of a winner as I thought, for just recently I sniffed true odor of  champions.  All this time it lay dormant in the home of some poor Sullivan County, New York sap–  nary put to use and left to rot in storage box.  But as is the case with all important artifacts, it was destined to be found and displayed in its true glory. The Hope Diamond, The Cougarhead Stapler –both stunning and priceless objets d’art in their own right– now find themselves matched in beauty and purpose only by the New York Giants Lombardi Trophy Aftershave bottle. Not only is the latter a stunning relic of triumph dating as far back as 1987, but it has also managed to maintain it’s mythical powers by continuing to contain –within its walls– the liquid manifestation of the sacred scent of victory cologne historians might recognize as something called “Wild Country.”

Now with this prized keepsake of past gridiron (and no doubt bedroom) conquests in my possession, I shall partake in the weekly ritual of the application of the victorious essence to my person in a superstitious endeavor to ensure  a positive result on the field of battle for the Giants of the gritty game they call Football.

The scent of victory indeed.

Well, That Happened

I’m not one to make light of tragic events (most of the time), but every once in awhile a headline so bizarre catches your eye that you can’t help just let out an airy chuckle of disbelieving astonishment. Scanning through news headlines prior to drifting off to dreamland this evening I happened on such a combination of words plastered across the top of an online article. You will find said headline below:

If this actual occurrence is not a testament to the unpredictable nature of everyday life, then I’m not sure what is. Every element of the story seems like it was chosen haphazardly out of a hat; From the instrument the guy played, to the band he was in, to the thing that killed him. If god does exist he/she was playing  mad libs of fate or fiddling around with his/her random situation generator  and this poor fellow was on the losing end. If anything, it’s further motivation to live life to the fullest, because you never know when a bale of hay is going to careen out of control and crash into your van…I guess; though I’m pretty sure you have control of becoming the Cellist for ELO.