Tag Archives: the daily show

Daily Show reservation fail

I’ve been lucky enough to go to two tapings of The Daily Show since moving to New York. The first, the guest was Colin Firth, and resulted in one of the Most Awesome Life Achievements Ever. The second was Jude Law, keeping up a trend of seeing  dreamy British actors. I snagged tix again a few months ago for a taping this upcoming Wednesday and have been anxiously awaiting the guest lineup. Here it is:

D'oh!

D'oh!

I have nothing against Jon Hamm, other than I had no idea who he was at first (Mia Hamm’s husband?), and realized, upon checking Wikipedia, that I’ve never seen anything he’s done. But, c’mon! Two former heads of the most powerful countries in the world, and the proprietor of the Fashionable Male (who, by the way, kills it every time on The Daily Show)? Lousy ticket aim, me. No, I’m not going to watch Mad Men now. I’m not going to start watching it just to annoy you.

I still have a soft spot for Affleck, despite his poor life decisions, because, he was pretty integrable part of New Jersey related cinema during my impressionable teenage years. To quote Kevin Smith from his Evening with Kevin Smith DVD:

There’s a dude named Mark Steven Johnson who’s directing Daredevil. He’d been hanging around while we were shooting the movie. He said, ‘Who could play Daredevil?’ And I said, “Affleck.” ‘Cause that’s my answer for everything. I’m a big fan, so I think he can play anything. If people are like, “Jaws?” I’m like, “Affleck. Affleck plays the fucking shark.”

#SadMen

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Rough mornings in post-newspaper America

turns out the black houses were just early internet adopters

One other consideration about the death of the newspaper industry that occurred to me last night (nevermind at what time): If print editions and deliveries go away, how will we know when it’s too late to be coming home from a night out?

This used to be the benchmark: if you could stop on your way home from the bar or a party and get that day’s newspaper or see people hawking the amNY by the subway, you know your night was indeed a long one. If you made it back home before that first whack of the paper hit a doorstep on your block, your march had just fallen short of qualifying for the Walk of Shame (or Stride of Pride*, depending on your perspective).

So what then are the new media model-era signposts of a night that has probably carried on far too long?

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