Television « Black Marks on Wood Pulp / by Corey Vilhauer

Category: Television

September 16th, 2010

On living up to expectations

It was for Sierra, this show – this Nickelodeon Storytime Live, this theatre performance of preschool-oriented cartoons, this “so-close-to-Disney-on-Ice-I-was-nearly-scared” experience.

It was her birthday present, after all. It was something she’d love – characters she talked about, DVDs she watched, songs she sang. And it was a chance to turn an early leave from work into a full-out Daddy/Daughter Date Night.

Which means it wasn’t really JUST for Sierra. It was for me, too.

Still, that doesn’t exactly qualify the excitement or anxiety I had. I spent the hours before the show wondering if she’d like it, the weight of expectation mixing in my gut, butterflies – seriously, you guys, BUTTERFLIES – as to whether my three-year-old daughter would totally love what was essentially a two hour long Nick Jr. commercial.

Sierra’s eyes sparkled through the first hour, soaking in the experience. And – boom – I finally got it. I realized that, indeed, this was an experience, one she would never again get: the feeling of encountering something new for the first time, in this case the grand stage and the power of live performance.

To us adults, this was just some actress dressed up like Dora. But to Sierra, this was something more. This was her first concert. Her first time to the theatre, watching a play; a glimpse at real acting. This was, discounting a random hug from Clifford the Big Red Dog a few years back, her first encounter with celebrity; her first brush with fame.

I went in feeling nervous. Not because I hoped she’d have fun, I discovered, but because I subconsciously hoped her first experience was similar to how I imagined my first: steeped in raw energy, the potential of the performance straining against what – up to that point – had been a one-dimensional fandom.

I guess it passed the test. She sang. She jumped up and down and clapped. She told me her favorite parts (Princess Dora) and even rooted for the bad guys. Most of all, she gave rapt attention, not missing a single word, loving every minute of the performance all the way up until Dora walked off into the sunset, at which point – in typical toddler fashion – she shifted gears.

“Can we go to Pizza Ranch now?”

You bet, little girl. Let’s wait until these goosebumps go down, first.

Category: On..., Sierra, Television

Comments: 1

June 17th, 2010

Why I Watch

It was Game Five of the NBA Finals. The series was tied at two games a piece, and the Lakers were making a run. Then, this play.

It was the single greatest play I’ve seen during these playoffs, and I was convinced that, with momentum, the Celtics had just cinched up a championship.

Two days later, it all came crashing down.

At some point during the Celtics’ demoralizing Game Six defeat this past Tuesday – around the time I had stopped watching in order to wash the dishes, run to the store for a frozen pizza, and drink a beer in smoldering frustration, my confidence crashing and doubt setting in after only two quarters of play – Kerrie asked me a simple question.

“Why do you watch sports?”

My answer: “I don’t know.”

The real answer, of course, is that we’re entertained by sports. We watch people do things we’re not able to do, performing on the highest level possible. And if we subscribe to the notion of home-town success, we probably claim allegiance to certain sports teams by proximity alone; when they win, the city wins.

The draw, though, becomes more than just entertainment – especially when you develop a fanatical connection to a team. I say “fanatical” because that’s what being a fan means. I say “fantatical” also, not because it’s negative, but because it’s totally enveloping – it turns the process of watching sports into a process of being part of the team.

Sports fans are no different than those who refuse to miss a favorite television show, who buy an author’s books the second they come out, or who spend over $50 on a concert ticket. They find solace in someone else’s success, and take personally their failures.

We root because we care. We care because we’re human.

This time around, it’s different for me. The Celtics are playing on borrowed time. They weren’t supposed to make it past the Cavaliers. Or the Magic. And they certainly weren’t supposed to be a game away from winning it all. They were left for dead, too old to compete, too banged up to make a splash, a shadow of their 2008 season.

But they did it. They beat the Cavs in six. They beat the Magic in six. And now, despite a monster setback in Tuesday’s game, they still sit just one game away from being champions.

For those of us who followed them from the beginning of the playoffs, each round has been an improbable lesson in faith and hard work, and though we all know that this last round is as improbable as any, we’ll still feel the sting if the C’s go down.

No matter what, tonight is the last day of the NBA season. No matter what, one team is going to walk out of the Staples Center a champion.

No matter what, this is it. Game Seven, NBA Finals, featuring the two biggest franchises – and the biggest rivalry – in the history of the league.

And, no matter what, I’ll be filled with emotion: the exact emotion, though, may not be understood until after the game is finished, be it frustration and disbelief or joy and pride.

I can’t help it. It’s why I watch sports.

Category: Basketball, Boston Celtics, Sports, Television

Televisions: kind of like automatic napkin dispensers

So they put televisions in our gas stations and our restaurants and our vehicles and our phones and really there’s no place you can go without running into a television.

The question I keep asking, especially when it comes to businesses and the service industry, is “why?”

Is it really true that a product or brand will lose out because there’s no video available? Will a person pass up going to a gas station because, you know, THAT one isn’t showing Fox News?

An example: today we ate at Whisk and Chop, a local ready-for-big-time breakfast/lunch hybrid restaurant in the vein of Perkins or Bakers Square. (By “in the vein” we really mean “almost absolutely exactly like” because, for some strange reason, they’ve taken a Perkins-esque view of interior design and a Bakers Square-like dedication to mediocre food.)

Every wall had a television.

Every. One.

You go to Pizza Ranch, and every wall has a television. McDonalds. Gas stations. These aren’t sports bars – these places aren’t catering to drunks who want to watch football. They’re serving breakfast. Fast food. GASOLINE. What. The. Hell.

I know. People like television. I get it.

But take those televisions away from the inside of Whisk and Chop. All of them. Leave them out of the budget. Save money on the satellite feed. Take that savings and put it into, oh, I don’t know, a better attention to detail (like toasting the English muffin under your luke-warm Eggs Benedict).

Open the doors and see what happens. How many people are going to say, “I really want breakfast, and I’ve heard Whisk and Chop is good…”

“…oh, but they don’t have a television for me to watch.”

Can we all agree that, because this is such a negligible feature to a breakfast restaurant, that it’s unnecessary, much like an automatic napkin dispenser or valet parking or two sets of silverware for each dish?

Can we all agree that, when it comes down to it, it’s kind of tacky?

So, no television. Will they really lose customers?

Or, by going against the grain and offering a more peaceful environment with which to eat hashbrowns, will they actually gain customers?

I find it hard to believe anyone would notice in the first place.

Category: Annoyances, Sioux Falls, Television

Comments: 5

April 5th, 2010

Usability (and Opening Day) break

One of the most frustrating aspects of the Argus Leader’s Web site – and let’s be fair: this is probably not an Argus thing as much as it’s a Gannett thing – is the issue of page navigation.

Exhibit 1: Underlines = Links

As you can see, the page I’m currently on (page 1) is underlined. One problem: common usage has led to the understanding that underlined text is a link. When you see underlined words – especially in the midst of other non-underlined words – you say to yourself, “HEY THAT IS A LINK. AND I KNOW THIS BECAUSE IT’S UNDERLINED.”

Here, though, it’s the opposite. The actual link – as in, the thing you click to get to page 2 – IS NOT UNDERLINED.

This is confusing in two ways. ONE: I don’t know where to click, and that makes me an angry clicker. TWO: When I land on this page and see the navigation, I assume I’m on page two. BUT I’M NOT, I’M ON PAGE ONE.

Exhibit 2: Completely Different

Of course, that’s not all. The page navigation of the comments section? COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

In fact, this is how the main pages should be navigated. Current page in bold, linkable pages in a different color. Nothing is underlined, no assumptions are made, everyone wins.

So, in short: Underlined = links, especially in linkable fields. Make the page number bold, if you need to. Keep navigation consistent. Don’t be dumb.

This is simple stuff, you guys.

And, with that complaint out of the way, I’d suggest reading Matt Zimmer’s Opening Day Twins preview at the Argus Leader Web site.

Hooray for Opening Day, people. Hooray.

Category: Baseball, Content Strategy, Journalism, Television

Comments: 1

August 27th, 2009

Mirar fijamente

Every question is followed with a soul-piercing stare.

Deep brown eyes, round like a Fiestaware bowl, with a raisin of a black dot floating in the center. Occasionally blinking, but always staring. Right at you. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for the right words.

The stare is partnered with a wide smile – the kind of smile that’s cute when alone, but unsettling when paired with two burrowing eyes. A stare that isn’t swayed by time, either – it will continue to burrow through your brain until it feels it should stop.

And it’s not just once. It happens several times over a half hour. A question. A look to the audience. A sidekick mimicking the act, failing to grasp the same creepiness but still working in concert with the original. Two stares now. TWO STARES.

That’s what unnerves me. I’d have thought the DVD was frozen if it wasn’t for the unfeeling blinks that accompany each stare.

Where’s the answer, kids?

Keep trying.

Staring. Staring. STARING STARING STARING.

This is why I’m thankful it’s taken two years for Sierra to get into Dora the Explorer. The songs, the repetition, the odd mix of Spanish and English – these don’t bother me.

But those stares. * shudder *

Category: Annoyances, Sierra, Television

This is not breaking news

Seriously?

Let’s be honest. You undermine your position as a Breaking News source the second you post “JON AND KATE FILE FOR SEPARATION.”

And let’s continue to be honest. You undermine your need for privacy by going public in every aspect of your life. Contracts aside, the solution is simple: if you are having trouble with your marriage and you’re going to use the undying devotion of paparazzi stalkers as a main excuse, you should probably consider not allowing a constant crew of camera operators to document every move.

Of course, let’s put this all out there. Jon and Kate jumped the shark two years ago, so we should have expected this. It took itself too seriously. It tried to change lives, when all it ever turned out to be was documentation of a failing marriage. It was destined to either crash or fade away.

Is it asking too much for this to become a harbinger of the future of family reality television? Can we all make the assumption that all the networks want is drama, and all the cameras and lights in the world can’t keep that from happening; no matter your security in marriage, no matter your desire to live a normal life in the fish tank of cable television, no matter your assurances that everything will go on as it always would.

It’s not news. It’s reality. So let’s not treat it like something that has never happened before.

Category: Television

A brief history of television

A brief history of television in the Vilhauer household.

November 2002. Move in. Basic cable. No digital box, nothing fancy. Just cable.

October 2005. Cable canceled. No reason other than a desire to spend less on things we don’t need.

June 2006. Television is moved to the basement. Our antenna no longer catches PBS. This causes a conflict with our recent promotion to Members of Public Broadcasting.

October 2007. With a newborn in tow and an added need for easy entertainment, digital cable is hooked up. The idea is hatched because we want public broadcasting, but attaching an antenna to our roof is not a cost-effective option.

November 2007. Television breaks. An HD television is purchased on Black Friday. Sports will never be the same.

March 2009. After just 16 months, we cut the cable again. Irony is discovered as we have rarely even watched public broadcasting in the time we’ve had cable – the reason we went down the path towards cable in the first place.

April 2009. An amplified antenna is purchased. Suddenly, we get three PBS channels. In HD. In other news, the universe has been restored.

It seems that whenever we go through some change in our television habits, it gets posted to Black Marks on Wood Pulp. As if you care.

But it’s always been a big part of our lives – both the having and the not having. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Probably because we manage to pack so much drama and gut wrenching decision making into such a tiny problem.

It’s true. The reasons we’ve gotten cable have been blurred by the reasons we got rid of cable. Every time. Without fail. We find ourselves bogged down by television.

Not that it wasn’t a great distraction, and not knocking anyone who likes the things I don’t, but it’s just that there’s so much and so little time and there’s no way you can catch up with everything.

Really, we wanted to watch PBS. That’s where it all started. And now, without cable, we have stumbled upon this enlightenment – without the glut of stuff we became reliant on for entertainment, and with new found technology that allows us to, you know, actually get more than four channels, we’ve narrowed our choices to only what we wanted in the first place.

And what an enlightenment it is! There’s this PBS sub-channel called Create that shows nothing but how-to programs. I mean, good programs. This Old House and Sara Moulton and other programs that used to be on Discovery and TLC and Food Network before those channels turned into Jon and Kate Plus Kitchen Showdown House Swap.

Sorry. Are you falling asleep?

My apologies. It’s just that we have PBS again, and because we aren’t distracted by other things, we’re realizing how awesome it is.

Oh. You’ve snoozed off. That’s okay – Nova’s on in a few minutes.

Category: Television, Vilhauer

Comments: 2