Decorating Hannah's Clothing

SPOILER ALERT: This article may contains key plot points for “Hannah Montana: The Movie.” If you have not seen the film and you do NOT want the ending of the movie spoiled for you … God help you.

Hi. I’m Scotty Love, and I’m an achievement whore.

For those of you not familiar with the Xbox 360, allow me to quickly explain: You see, when one purchases an Xbox 360, they create a profile, or a “Gamertag.” As one plays games on the 360, he or she earns “Gamerpoints.” This is done by completing certain achievements within each game, designated by the developer. Each retail game initially comes with 1,000 points worth of achievements, some difficult, some very easy. What Microsoft has done here is create a new form of addiction for gamers, given some games extra life past the basic game itself, and given life to games which might have had none. This last point brings me to “Hannah Montana : The Movie - The Game.”

There are games I play solely based on the ease with which you can attain 1,000 Gamerpoints in them, and when I heard that “Hannah Montana: The Movie - The Game” was easy and only took around three hours to complete, I decided to man-up and give it a try. I would take control of Hannah Montana, or Miley, or whoever she is, and I would single-handedly save Crowley Meadows … from whatever it was that it needed saving from. It was with this determination that I attained a copy of the game (I did not pay full price for it. I mean that. Seriously. No, really.) and put it into my Xbox 360.

The game started with a bang. I took control of Hannah Montana as she performed one of the many hits sure to be found on the soundtrack for the epic film on which this game is based. I pressed this button and that button. I made Hannah dance. I made Hannah pose. I made Hannah … stand behind a keyboardist, guitarist and drummer, somehow controlling how well they played their instruments with the power of her amazing musical mind control. Then, suddenly, I was whisked away to her tour bus, and it was there I began going for my favorite achievement, Fashion Designer, which forced me to decorate 30 items of Hannah’s clothing. After briefly pondering the legal ramifications of doing such a thing, I began placing my stamp on shirts, shorts and jewel-bedecked dance pants. Before long, I had 50 Gamerpoints. Only 950 to go!

I continued through the game, which is not just performing and clothes-decorating. I was also asked to help a boy named Travis fix a chicken coop and launch frogs at rotating lily pads. As I earned achievement after achievement, a strange thing began to happen. I began to ascend to a higher state of relaxation! I then realized something interesting. While most games give you a button that makes your character run instead of walk, there was no such command you could give Hannah/Miley. This girl refused to run anywhere. No matter how stressful a situation she was in, I had no choice but to walk her to her next objective at a leisurely pace. I found myself in a complete state of Zen.

It was in this heightened level of awareness that I rode Hannah/Miley’s horse along a jumping course 10 times, and it was in this beautiful state of inner peace that I walked her to the Bottle Toss at the fair and threw bean bags to victory, earning another 50 points. Heck, she even walked when it came time to corral a bunch of animals into their pens at the petting zoo. Chasing an ostrich is not a thing at all to Hannah Montana.

Eventually I finished the game. I saved Crowley Meadows from certain disaster. I danced, posed and mind-controlled my way to 5-stars in each and every song in the game. I looked triumphantly at my Gamerscore … and saw I had only 900 points. Only 900? What had I missed? I should have had 1,000 points. Where was that missing hundred? I checked my list of possible achievements and found the one I had missed, one called Big Spender: 100 Gamerpoints for buying 100 items of clothing for Hannah/Miley, and alas, my girl was all out of tokens. There was nothing to do but earn more tokens by riding that horse again and again and again, followed by walking up and down the flea market looking for clothes I had not yet bought.

I eventually bought enough clothes, achieving those coveted 1,000 Gamerpoints. It took me an extra half hour, but that was completely okay with me, because Hannah Montana taught me about a new state of being, a Zen like nothing I had ever known before. And now, if I begin to run to get somewhere, I stop myself, and I think, “What would Hannah Montana do?”

And then I walk there.

SPOILER ALERT: This post discusses important plot elements of the new “Star Trek” movie, as well as “Star Wars” (for those two or three of you who haven’t yet seen it), “Independence Day” and the current season of the TV series “24.”

"You just blew up my planet! Damn!"

Here is an interesting (one hopes) peek into my psyche: Ever since my first viewing of “Star Wars” back in 1977, I’ve been annoyed by works of fiction that use genocide as a plot point or as an element of conflict.

Such usage boils down to something like this:

1. “You destroyed my planet/species/race! Man, does that show how evil and/or powerful you are!”
2. “You destroyed my planet/species/race! Now I’m going to mope around and be despondent for the rest of the story (until I: A., find love; B., find redemption; C., A and B; or D., kill/sacrifice myself).”
3. “You destroyed my planet/species/race! Now I’m going to KILL you (regardless of the additional collateral damage and death along the way).”
4. “You destroyed my planet/species/race! But whatever I spend the next 90 minutes doing in response, it all will be for naught as it will be revealed at the end that: A., you’re merely a misunderstood, merely hungry planet-eating creature; B., somehow we’re going to go back in time and keep this from ever happening; C., you’re my father/my mother/my brother/my sister/my clone/an alternate-reality version of me; or D., I realize that I really just don’t care.”

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In a recent post I explained why I wouldn’t be buying the forthcoming book “Twitter Wit,” to be published by HarperCollins.

Boiling down my longwindedness, my reasons were two: 1. I resent folks making money from others’ creativity and content; 2. Tweets belong on Twitter.

(Sidebar: The book’s editor, Nick Douglas, replied to the post, in which he explained that “Twitter Wit” was not about making money from others’ tweets but about promoting Twitter and those who frequent it. I’m much appreciative to Mr. Douglas for his comments and wish him and the book project well.)

Here’s the thing, however: I’m afraid I’ve ripped massive gashes through my “tweets belong on Twitter” conviction by recently opting in to one of the companies that offers your favorite tweets printed on a T-shirt. (In fact, Douglas complained about such T-shirt companies in his reply.) Twitshirt.com, however, not only requires that users opt in before their tweets can be used on a shirt, they also pay the tweeter for use of their tweet. (A second company, Tweetshirt.me, offers tweets on shirts but doesn’t appear to ask permission or offer any compensation to the tweeter.) So, yes, they’re making money from others’ creativity, but they’re wisely paying royalties for that privilege. And, yes, I’m still convinced that tweets belong on Twitter, but the fact is, there are a couple of my tweets that I’d like to wear on a T-shirt. (In fact, some of my tweets originated as phrases for T-shirts that I had planned to create through my CafePress account.)

So, to Mr. Douglas and the rest of the Twitterverse, I wanted to ‘fess-up and apologize for my hypocrisy. And to suggest that there are plenty of @pfunn tweets that would look rather peachy on a shirt.

The cast of NBC's new "Parenthood."

I find it interesting that so far in the coverage I’ve seen of NBC’s new fall shows, no one has mentioned that this will be the second go-round for NBC with a series version of Ron Howard’s 1989 movie “Parenthood.”

The Steve Martin-starring film first was translated to the small screen in 1990, in a series starring Ed Begley Jr. in the Martin role of harried father Gil Buckman. The series lasted barely a season.

In the new incarnation, however — which, like the 1990 version, is executive produced by Howard — the Buckmans are not to be found. It turns out this new version is (and I love this Hollywoody word) a “reimagining.” Instead of the Buckmans we have the Bravermans. Here’s the NBC press release description (via TheFutonCritic.com):

From the executive producers of the box-office hit “Parenthood” — Ron Howard and Brian Grazer (Oscar winners for “A Beautiful Mind”), and writer/executive producer Jason Katims (”Friday Night Lights”) — this contemporary re-imagining of the blockbuster film depicts the colorful and imperfect Braverman family — four grown siblings sharing the headaches, heartaches and joy of being parents. The star-studded cast includes Peter Krause, Maura Tierney, Craig T. Nelson, Dax Shepard, Bonnie Bedelia, Monica Potter, Erika Christensen and Sarah Ramos. When Sarah Braverman (Tierney, “ER”), a financially strapped single mother, returns home to her parents and siblings in Berkeley, Calif. after packing up her Fresno apartment and uprooting her two inconvenienced kids, Amber (Mae Whitman, “In Treatment”) and Drew (Miles Heizer, “ER”), she is greeted by her opinionated father, Zeek (Nelson, “Family Stone,” “Coach”), and strong mother, Camille (Bedelia, “Heart Like a Wheel”), who are privately dealing with their own marital issues. As Sarah is reunited with her siblings — sister, Julia (Christensen, “Traffic”), and brothers Crosby (Shepard, “Baby Mama”) and Adam (Krause, “Six Feet Under”) — all struggling with issues of their own, it’s clear that the Braverman reunion is just what they need to face the everyday challenges of modern family life. “Parenthood” is a production from Imagine Entertainment and Universal Media Studios. Emmy winner Thomas Schlamme (”The West Wing”) directs the pilot.

The reason it’s interesting that no one’s mentioned the previous TV version is because NBC finds itself in a weird situation this fall. It’s already committed to its groundbreaking five-night-a-week “Jay Leno Show” (unofficial title) at the 10 p.m./9 Central slot. The Leno construct changes the face of NBC prime time and makes it even more imperative that the Peacock Network up its game when it comes to scripted series. That NBC would pin part of its hopes on — nifty “reimagining” label or not — what amounts to a rehash of an old idea, even if it does come from Howard’s quality factory Imagine Entertainment, should have sent up a few more red flags. But perhaps that’s just me.

By the way, that 1990 version of “Parenthood” had some interesting names among the cast and crew. Among the youngsters in the cast were Leonardo DiCaprio, Thora Birch and David Arquette. In the Rick Moranis role of the obsessive dad Nathan was Ken Ober, the comedian who had gained notoriety as host of the MTV game show “Remote Control” (which itself was one of the first regular-series lesions on the body of what was, until then, a music-video-only network). And one of the co-producers and writers on the series was a lad named Joss Whedon.

Play some funky music, Adam.

Right off the bat I want to make it clear that this is not a case of sour grapes or fan frustration. I like Adam Lambert, considered by many to be the front-runner on Season 8 of Fox’s “American Idol.” While I’m rooting for Kris Allen, I still think the theatrical Lambert will take home the crown, and no worries: Allen still has a solid career ahead of him and I’m looking forward to his first album.

What’s irritating, however, is how the producers of “Idol” seem to be running a full-fledged campaign for Lambert, based on the way they’ve been staging his performances. Take, for instance, his recent belt of “Feeling Good.” Unlike the four other finalists, Lambert was allowed to use the staircase to make his grand entrance. (There was even a nice reverse shot.) And often Lambert is the final act (although 1. this could be determined by lot, and 2. this is not always a good thing, particularly when the show runs long; one week most folks’ DVRs cut off Lambert’s song entirely).

And while it didn’t happen this week, on two prior weeks the director has cut away from Lambert to a close-up of judge Paula Abdul, overcome with emotion.

It could be argued that even if the “Idol” producers are, indeed, showing favoritism in staging toward Lambert, it’s not working; after all, he was in the bottom three this week. But when you have only five contestants and 47 million people have voted, odds are this isn’t exactly panic time for Lambert.

And perhaps the producers are allowing a little extra camera wizardry and staging for certain performers simply to make their show more of an entertainment series and less of an amateur hour. But that extra camera move or close-up or flashy entrance can impact the voting.

If Lambert indeed is this year’s “Idol,” it will be well-deserved, but shame on the “Idol” producers and directors if they’ve made the young man their pet project.

1. Simply avert your eyes to the next tweet above or below. Chances are it’s a clever turn of phrase from the latest celebrity to discover Twitter.

2. See that avatar down there with the guy with the moustache? Consider this: Is it really his moustache, or did he simply let his nose hairs grow?

3. Ask yourself: Would @aplusk want me to click on this URL?

4. Hit the “Mentions” link for the 4,000th time today to see if anyone else has contacted or retweeted you.

5. Cover the avatars and see if you can guess whether the other tweets are thought-provoking, existential insights into the human condition, or just more excerpts from “Moby Dick.”

6. Ponder whether the spelling should be “tweeple” or “tweople.”

7. Hit the refresh button again. If you can generate a complete page of tweets without a single “Here’s 10 Great Ways to Make Money on Twitter,” you have performed the miracle that now qualifies you for sainthood.

8. Send a DM to @Oprah. Oh, that’s right … she doesn’t follow you either.

Quick background before I get to my point: I haven’t listened to radio, terrestrial or satellite, in my car in years. These days, via my iPod, I listen to either kamopmop, the Senegalese/Icelandic polka hybrid, or to podcasts.

I’ve rigged my iPod to run a daily playlist of podcasts as I drive to and from work, starting with short features, like Garrison Keillor’s “Writer’s Almanac,” “60-Second Science,” Rob Long’s “Martini Shot” and “Onion Radio News,” Then I settle in for the main feature, a long podcast.

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Here are the two reasons I won’t be buying the forthcoming book, “Twitter Wit,” a collection of witty tweets (posts to Twitter) edited by Nick Douglas and published by HarperCollins:

1. I resent attempts by publishers (or TV networks, movie studios, etc.) or creative-level folk (editors, producers) to cash in on the content of others. (At least the producers of “America’s Funniest Home Videos” offer a cash prize to the funniest clip of the week.) If Mr. Douglas would like to compile a book of HIS wittiest tweets, best of luck to him.
2. It’s anti-Twitter. ANY book that attempts to describe, quantify, digest, explain, guide or analyze the social phenomenon that is Twitter automatically misses the point of Twitter. Twitter doesn’t need books to explain it or capture it. And I don’t know about any of the other users of Twitter, but I don’t tweet just so my words can be collected in a book over which some guy in Michigan is going to chuckle while he’s on the john. Look, I make no claims to be the cleverest or wittiest denizen of Twitter, but I’ve made a few tweets of which I’m proud. To me the medium is most certainly the message. Twitter is this wide, vast, surging river of communication, with millions of tweets flowing past at any one time. It thrills me to realize that a tweet I cast into this raging river might be read by thousands or it might be read by none. Yes, it’s exciting when I get retweeted (when someone likes your tweet enough to forward it to their followers), and I admit to a certain amount of masochistic satisfaction when I lose followers because of a tweet, but it’s not at all disappointing if no one says a word. That’s the nature of Twitter. A collection of tweets on paper would simply take all the fun out of it.

I wish no ill toward Mr. Douglas or his project. But tweets belong on Twitter.

Allison Iraheta shall illustrate this post, just because she's so darn cute. Image by Getty Images via Daylife

I can tell you right now, don’t come looking to me for accurate predictions, especially if you have money on the line.

In fact, usually I try to stay out of the prognostication game altogether, but occasionally I forget my own pledge to myself and lapse into a bit of fortune-telling, which almost always turns into an embarrassing experience.

Case in point, my earlier post on the current season of “American Idol.” Let me just jump right in to a list of my egregious errors of prediction:

1. Lil Rounds. I predicted she would take home the big prize and even salivated at the anticipation of her first CD. This was based on her performances in the audition and semifinal rounds. Unfortunately her finals performances have been disappointing, failing to realize the potential she had displayed earlier. The young woman has the pipes, but she possesses neither the innate skill to style her warblings nor the acumen to develop the professional polish she needs to be a star. She can get there, eventually, but not in the few weeks remaining. In other words, she’s going to have to pull a Kellie Pickler and develop her career outside of “American Idol.”
2. Kris Allen. Man, what a moron I turned out to be regarding this guy. In my earlier post I had written this kid off as a nobody and predicted his early demise. But not only has he survived the chaff weeks, he’s actually become one of the front-runners (and, as it turns out, my personal favorite). He has the vocal ability, sure, but he also has the required confidence, stage presence and song stylings to raise his performances beyond the dreaded K-word, karaoke. (Unfortunately too much of Lil Rounds has been all about the K.) Allen’s early finals weeks were good, but by the time he put a unique stamp on James Taylor’s otherwise over-played “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You),” he had convinced me that he had staying power, even, as it turns out, over the lovable Danny Gokey. And the following week, when he gave a fresh polish to another over-played song, Bill Withers‘ “Ain’t No Sunshine,” he had my wholehearted support.
3. Jorge Nunez and Michael Sarver. While we didn’t predict their success in so many words, we did hint that we thought they’d last beyond the early rounds. Sorry guys.

Some other notes on the season thus far:

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