Ah yes, the moustache. Even though I can grow one in four days and Luke can’t physically make one appear on his face (true fact!), the moustache is loved by us both. It’s gone through many different permutations over the centuries – early moustaches were pulled from the face and used to batter masatodon to death – but it’s always remained quintessentially the same*.

Nowhere, however, does the mo flourish like the fashion world of the seventies. Observe, if you will, a terrifying example of the moustache being used to beam charisma gamma-rays directly into the penises and vaginas of willing seventies youth.

I didn’t even understand half of the words being said there (did he say Crenoline? What in the name of Malcom McDowell’s fetid sack is Crenoline? If it’s on the periodic table I’ll shut up, but I sincerely doubt it is). It didn’t matter though! And do you know why? Because two slivers of groomed hair were jutting at me like sex-daggers the entire time. AND I LIKED IT.

Here, though, is the absolute peak of moustache sexiness being exploited to hock goods. You ready? Of course you’re not.

I guess the lesson here is…

I… seem to have forgotten what the lesson is. I think my frontal lobe just fused.

/Paul

*Read: creepy strip of hair above a sneering upper lip.

Which is perhaps more background information than you actually need to appreciate the below music video.

I… I’m… not sure exactly how I feel about that.

/Luke

I know many of you have trouble waking up properly in the mornings. To that end, here’s something that will scare your brain into alertness.

I’m so, so sorry.

/Paul

Long-term readers of The Somewhat Ambitious will know that, alongside North Korea, our other despotic regime of choice has always been the mighty Russia. I mean, what’s not to like? Brutal and bloody history, oppressive landscape and unlivable climate, plentiful concrete factories and open strip mines, and a fine line in the dourest/most alcoholic politicians on this fair planet. The LULZ pretty much write themselves. As do the state-sanctioned killings.

But I understand some of you may not share this deep-seated, and slightly morbid fascination with the place, so in order to help you out, I’ve compiled a selection of three videos which, in chronological order and in just over a minute, pretty much tell you everything you need to know about the governance of Russia from the collapse of the USSR on.

And yes, that last one is Putin refusing a piece of candy. Because that’s the kind of happy-go-lucky guy he is. Vladimir “Giggles” Putin they call him. Before he kills them. The only candy I can imagine him actually eating is candy hewn from the walls of the Siberian candy mines by the hands of enslaved orphans. Who he then kills.*

/Luke

* Ok, sure, there’s no direct evidence suggesting Putin has ever killed, or thought about killing orphans, but look at him! I wouldn’t leave my orphans with him. He’d be the worst babysitter ever.**
** And now I have a mental image of Putin as a member of The Babysitter’s Club. Long blonde hair and everything. Still the same cold, lifeless, judging eyes though. I think he’d probably be the leader of the club, instead of Kristy Thomas. Who he presumably killed. Poor Kristy.

Man, fast food has never been so ’street’ (again with the inverted commas). Well, actually it has, and to be honest I thought they would have learnt by now. Want to see something really cringeful? Then witness P Diddy claiming that Burger King has just crowned him the ‘King of Music and Fashion’.

Really? No. The Burger King? Hold up the rad-train Diddy, because if there’s one thing I trust fast food mega-conglomerates with it’s definitely my music and fashion choices. Why, they’ve been pioneering XXL clothes for years before hip-hop got onto it. Also, you bought a Youtube channel? Is that even possible? I’m almost positive they’re free. Sorry to break it to you Diddy, but you may have ben scammed. Although, as a result, we are now blessed with such videos as “Diddy Getting a Haircut” and “Diddy Boards Plane”. Fascinating.

I think I’ve said the word “Diddy” too many times. I’m beginning to feel light-headed.

Although McDonalds obviously witnessed the shitness here and thought ‘Ha! We can be crapper than that!’, so managed to convince Pharrell to dance and sing for a Big Mac. Although I’m sure the mountain of cash he slept on that night was of some small consolation to his bruised dignity.

So, my next question is: who are the high profile advertising agencies who get these multi-million dollar clients and campaigns to flock to them without understanding in the slightest the mechanics of a viral marketing campaign? And who are the witless corporate execs that think this is a good use of their funds? You can’t just grab a brand, staple a personality to it and expect it to spread across the Internet like wildfire. The mere presence of handheld camerawork doesn’t automatically make these ‘real people’ with ‘real taste’. They’re still the same blinged-up, Hennessey-soaked, Gucci-draped, eminently buyable humans as before, just with another fragment of their soul auctioned off to a fast food chain. It doesn’t make the brand cool, it just makes it a bit desperate.

Leroy Smith on the other hand, now there was a advertising campaign. I mean, sure I still haven’t bought any Nike products, but it did teach me that Eddie Murphy and Charlie Murphy were two entirely distinct people. So, that’s something.

Seriously, the Princess wanted to marry him? Although, if I were Bowser, the prospect of that guy coming after me would be vastly more terrifying than a regulation fat Italian plumber giving it a shot. I mean, look at him. He’d rip your eyelids off as soon as look as you. For those of you who have no idea what on Earth is going on, Lou Albano was a wrestler who also just so happened to play the role of Mario in the kids TV show Super Mario Bros, which aired from 1989-1991. I was 5 at the time, and even at that age I can remember being dazzled by exactly how crap it was. If you want a succinct example of exactly what level of crapness we’re talking about, then behold the single take glory that was the closing credits:

Two comments:

1. “Swing you arms from side to side” and “take one step, and then again” does not a dance make. Although it does look like the only kind of dance a man of that build might be capable of attacking.

2. Was Lou Albano drunk? I’m almost positive he fluffs the landing at the very end. And there’s really not that much of a landing to fluff either.

Not that the general air of mediocrity dissuaded me from watching it. I ate the show up with the same fervour with which I consumed my morning Cheerios (I was in Canada at the time) in the hope of procuring another Mario sticker. Stickers, man! Wasn’t that just the highlight of your 5 year old day? Ah, I wish I had some stickers now. Anyway, it’s sad to see him go. It was too soon. Another couple of years and the world probably would have been ready for a remake.

Now we’ll just have to make do with Weekend at Mario’s.

[via Boing Boing]

Windows 7 Launch Parties. Oh sweet Jesus.

I know it’s easy to heap scorn on Windows. Too easy most of the time. Hell, after two years of wedded bliss with my Mac, I find trying to use Windows roughly analogous to having six of my fingers stapled to a piano and then trying to play the xylophone. But this is some seriously next level shit here. It’s not even like Windows have gone ‘look we’re never going to be cool, so let’s just do something really daggy instead’. They’re just doing something daggy, but seem to think it’s really cool. I mean, I’m watching these things searching desperately for some trace of self-awareness, some loose sense of irony, but there’s nothing. Just… nothing. Except cringeful awkwardness and multi-coloured balloons. You know those horribly stilted “parties” you attended during High School when you were still really uncool and there were like five people there sharing three Bacardi Breezers and you’d pretend to be smashed so you might have a chance with Sally McPlainface and then you’d kiss her and regret it and have to go home filled with self-loathing and other people’s pity? I’d say they were generally more enjoyable than the prospect of these launch parties.

I only made it through about a minute of each. It’s a bit like watching David Brent in full flight. You spend your time thinking “No. No. Surely not, surely… No!” and withdrawing into yourself like a hermit crab made from pure embarrassment. I just cannot work out what kind of person thought this was going to be a good idea? And who thought this was going to be the best way of communicating this “good idea”? Bringing together a motherly type who looks like she’d be at least 80% passive aggression, a token black guy, a wannabe frat boy and a slightly intimidating suburban housewife and making them pretend that they enjoy each others company due to the miracle of Windows 7. “But that will look awkward!” I’m sure someone must have said. To which they obviously replied “Not if there’s balloons!”. At which point everyone in the board meeting burst into rapturous applause and chaired Mr Balloons out of the room. And I know work is work, but even as an actor I think I would have looked at the script for this and said “No, what you ask for is impossible. No-one can make this look good. No-one. Even if the cast was Dame Judi Dench, Cate Blanchett, Robert Downey Jr and Lt. Daniels from The Wire, this would still not be good. I’d have to live with this for the rest of my life. I can’t do it. I’m going to go dress up as a chicken and sell fast food instead.” Actors. So melodramatic.

So. Anybody here having a Windows 7 Launch Party?

/Luke

I’m not going to go into detail about Kanyegate. Sufficed to say, the whole thing has turned into a gigantic meme-scented shit-sandwich, and the above picture is probably my favourite thing to come out of the whole Taylor Swift/Kanye debacle, which has, incredibly, eclipsed the health care reform debate which is currently sweeping across middle America like a bucket of hot fat flung at a lego village.

By the way, if you want to feel a surge of awesomeness, here’s Obama ripping on Kanye.

I love you, Obama. It’s a shame you’re being chased by angry hicks all the time.

/Paul

Tramdalf.

This was shot and edited by Miklos Janek, the genius who directed Curiageous (and wrote it with me). It all went down last week on Bourke Street mall, and if you’re somehow unclear as to why we did it, I lost No Fuck Friday. NFF is a weekly feature wherein Luke and I “duel” with revolting videos. Everyone votes on which would be the hardest to get it on to, and typically the loser has to undergo some manner of humiliating ordeal; in this case, dress up as Gandalf and face off with a tram. Hence, Tramdalf. Makes sense. We’re pretty proud of it! Let us know what you think (read: lather us up with sweet, sweet kudos).

Oh yes, and while we’re here…

1. This is us being “officially” “back” – expect more posts, more content, more NFF.
2. It’s still not too late to vote in last week’s edition of NFF. You have until Wednesday evening, so get to it!

/Paul and Luke