A Look Back At My Disappointing Facebook Movie

Last night, I watched my Facebook movie, A Look Back, for the first time. I was really excited for it. Facebook was celebrating its 10th anniversary by premiering a one-minute film on the life of...me! What an honor.

I had strong expectations for A Look Back, for a couple of reasons. I had seen dozens of other Facebook films, shared by my friends, and all of them had high production values. The Arial font on the graphics, the pan and zoom effect on the photos, the beautifully composed classical music. The idea of reliving the highlights of my five-plus years on Facebook as a Cheers intro was very appealing to me.

I also knew A Look Back would have a more original plot than the movies I'd watched. If I may be completely honest with you, my friends' lives are rather uninspiring. This was reflected in their films, which all followed the same basic, predictable outline: They joined Facebook, married their husband or wife, had a baby, went on vacation with the baby, had another baby, had their babies pose with their dog.

I was not married. I did not father a child. I did not own a dog. Finally, some fresh material that Facebook could work with! I couldn't wait to see what director Mark Zuckerberg and company would do with it.

So it was with much anticipation that I clicked the play button on A Look Back. The beginning had promise: a montage of photos I'd uploaded since I'd joined Facebook in 2008. Mainly pictures of myself as Simpsons characters and as Mad Men characters.

But then, the film took a depressing turn. In a scene titled "Your Most Liked Posts," I was shown a status update I posted in April 2013: "I look forward to the day when we won't have to send out thoughts and prayers for such senseless attacks." This was in reference to the Boston Marathon bombing. I appreciate the sentiment that I expressed at the time, but it was not one that I needed to be reminded of. I certainly wouldn't refer to it as a "highlight."

The next post featured in the film, from November 2013, read, "Thank you everyone for the birthday wishes! And once again, my sincerest apologies to my family for not being married yet." Ah, some comic relief. Well done, Mark.

The "Most Liked Posts" scene was followed by -- and I promise you I'm not exaggerating -- photos of a pedestrian light flashing a "walk" and "don't walk" signal at the same time, my face superimposed on Screech's body in the opening credits to Saved by the Bell, a couple of baseball stadiums I've visited, and a box of the Australian version of Rice Krispies, known as Rice Bubbles.

And then the film ended with Facebook's signature thumbs-up logo. Fin. More than five years on Facebook, and what do I have to show for it? Pop culture references and foreign cereal. How disappointing. 

My review of A Look Back: It is a brief glimpse inside a man whose life is utterly lacking. The script is flawed, filled with non sequiturs. To paraphrase Elaine Benes, it is like a big-budget movie with a story that goes noooowhere.

The heartfelt acknowledgment of a terrible tragedy is not enough to save A Look Back. I cannot recommend this film.

The Golden Globes Monologue, Take Two

The Golden Globe Awards aired on Sunday. Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were excellent as hosts, as they were last year. Their opening monologue was strong: it was clever, yet not especially biting. They haven't lost their "Weekend Update" chemistry, all these years later.

I've rewatched their opening monologue a few times since the telecast, because it reminded me of my lifelong dream (since I was 21) of hosting an award show. I want to be Tina Fey one day. I want to be Amy Poehler one day. I'd even settle for a mix of James Franco and Anne Hathaway.

I can feel the dream slowly slipping away from me, though. I'm no more famous or talented than I was in 2011, when I wrote the blog post I linked to in the previous paragraph. At this stage in my life, the idea of hosting an award show is simply a fantasy.

Which leads me to the purpose of this post. I have written my own monologue for the Golden Globes. Pretend for a moment that I hosted the show, and not Tina Fey or Amy Poehler. This is what you would have heard at 8 p.m. Eastern time, 5 p.m. Pacific time on NBC Sunday night.

One note before I begin: Nearly all of the jokes below were written or tweeted by me before Sunday. I just happened to compile all of them three days after the Golden Globes. Any similarities between these jokes and those of Fey, Poehler and the presenters are coincidental.

So, without further adieu....

"Hello! And welcome to the 71st Annual Golden Globe Awards, live from the Beverly Hilton hotel in Beverly Hills. I am so honored that I was asked to host this show in front of all of these attractive, famous movie stars...and all of these semi-attractive, semi-famous TV stars.

 "This is my first time hosting an award show. In fact, this is my first appearance on TV, ever. I promise you I will do my very best. If I flop, I will hire a plane to skywrite an apology in Hollywood tomorrow.

"Shia LaBeouf has behaved very strangely these past few weeks, hasn't he? Imagine that: a former Disney star acting out in public. You never see that happen!

"Oh, let me take this opportunity to remind the winners to keep their acceptance speeches brief. But make them entertaining, too. They'll sound great coming from Shia the next time he wins an award.

"So many wonderful films were released in 2013. American Hustle, for example. What a great cast. And I loved their costumes. The actors looked like they were playing rejected characters from Anchorman 2.

"Will Ferrell sure did a lot of promotion for Anchorman 2, didn't he? It was hard not to find Ron Burgundy somewhere on TV. I'm pretty sure Ron Burgundy has now split from Will Ferrell and become his own person, like Stefan Urquelle with Steve Urkel.

"American Hustle is nominated for best motion picture comedy. So is Inside Llewyn Davis, by the Coen brothers. A fine film about the folk music scene in the 1960s. But the title reminds me too much of one of my favorite movies, Inside Ann B. Davis. You'll recall that film was set in the '70s and featured songs from The Brady Bunch Hour.

"Leonardo DiCaprio is here. He had a great year. He starred in The Great Gatsby, playing a rich man who attracts a beautiful woman. Now he's in The Wolf of Wall Street, playing a rich man who attracts beautiful women. He's really come a long way since Titanic, when he played a poor man who attracts a beautiful woman. Good for you, Leo.

"Her is up for several awards. Yeah, please stop interrupting me with your incessant applause. You are not required to clap for every single nominee I mention in this monologue. You're all nominated, that's why you're here. Stop patting each other on the back, OK? It's off-putting to the viewers.

"Now where was I? Ah yes, Her. It's about a man who develops a relationship with his operating system. I couldn't relate to the story at all because the last five operating systems I've asked out have rejected me. In fact, Windows 98 still refuses to respond to my instant messages on AOL.

"Gravity: terrific, a sight to behold in IMAX, but totally far-fetched. George Clooney as an astronaut? I don't think so. Not a chance NASA would risk that pretty face. He's much too valuable here on Earth, to People magazine.

"One movie that was not nominated but was a big hit was The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. I did not see it, but I will tell you the title makes a great WiFi password. Especially if it's case sensitive.

"I'd be remiss if I didn't mention some of the TV nominees. Like House of Cards, which doesn't air on TV at all, yet is somehow nominated for best TV drama. Sure, why not? This was easily my favorite show of 2013 that required me to beg several friends for their Netflix log-in info to watch it. Just ahead of season five of Murder, She Wrote.

"Let's get on with the show, shall we? Our first presenter is a three-time Golden Globe nominee and is arguably the most quirky Deschanel sister on Fox. Please welcome Zooey Deschanel!"

A Show Of Appreciation For A Master Cereal Chef

I'm surprised the Cinnamon Toast Crunch chef has never been offered his own cooking show. What more does he need to do? Every year, Wendell whips up millions and millions of boxes of the most delicious cereal I have tasted in my lifetime.

Wendell has spent many more years in the public eye than, say, Rachael Ray or Guy Fieri, yet he's never had a chance to shine on TV like they have. With his talent, experience, and smile that can light up a room, he could have become the male Julia Child. Maybe his life story could have been turned into a film starring Meryl Streep in the lead role. I have no doubts she would've earned an Oscar nomination for her performance.

Alas, TV stardom wasn't in the cards for Wendell, for whatever reason. If it's any consolation to him, he is my favorite cereal mascot. I do not make this statement lightly, because I have a soft spot in my heart for many of the mascots.

I'd even say I feel a twinge of empathy for a couple of them. Take, for example, the Trix rabbit, who has starred in the most effective series of anti-bullying PSAs I've seen. The years and years of torment from those selfish children who have refused to share their cereal has to have taken its toll on that poor rabbit.

And whenever I eat Corn Flakes, I pause for a moment to reflect on the rooster who lost his eye during production of the cereal.

Wendell has led an easier life, as far as I can tell.  But he's the only chef I'm aware of who can bake toasty cereal squares with real cinnamon and sugar in every bite, and that ought to count for a lot. Take that, Rachael Ray and Guy Fieri.

He's also the only chef I'm aware of who channels all of his energy into making cereal, and nothing but cereal. He understands the value in a good bowl of cereal. I appreciate this, because I'm relentlessly teased for eating a lot of cereal. I'd estimate I consume five or six bowls per day. I practically live off of cereal. I would be content if I ate cereal for every single meal for the rest of my life.

But I've been told many times I need more variety in my meals. Why, I'm not sure, but I'm constantly feeling pressure to learn how to cook -- pressure from family, from friends, and even from cereal manufacturers.

Ever notice that cereal makers print recipes on the back of their boxes? They have all sorts of ideas for special snacks or desserts I can bake with their squares, their flakes, their toasted rice. These companies are totally missing the point of why I buy their products. I don't want to cook; that's why I'm eating cereal.

Pour cereal to top of bowl. Add milk. Add fruit if desired. Add spoon and serve. Yields one. That's the only recipe I need to follow.

In any event, the argument that my diet lacks variety is an invalid one. Not only do I eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I eat Frosted Toast Crunch and Peanut Butter Toast Crunch, too. And, who knows, we might have had even more flavors had a network bothered to give Wendell his own cooking show.

A Review Of My Lackluster Year

We are hours away from the start of the New Year. I could not be less excited. I have no desire to party, to watch a ball drop, to blow on a party horn, or to watch a marathon of The Twilight Zone. I haven't celebrated New Year's Eve in years.

I will be upfront with you and admit that one of the reasons is that I haven't had a girlfriend on New Year's Eve in years. I learned a long time ago that it's kind of awkward to stay awake until midnight just to stand around and observe your friends kiss their partners. It's frustrating, because I want what they have. But since I've failed in that regard, I instead want them to experience the same misery I feel when the countdown ends.

New Year's Eve reminds me of Valentine's Day, which follows six weeks later. I'm almost always single on both holidays, which are manufactured, in my opinion. Valentine's Day is a vehicle for greeting card companies, chocolate makers and florists to boost sales. And New Year's Eve exists for the sole purpose of selling Dilbert calendars.

New Year's Eve 2013 is especially bothersome to me because I've realized I've accomplished very little in the past 12 months. It feels like a wasted year. I had this epiphany when Facebook added a "Year In Review" box to my profile. It was the first time I had ever seen this feature, so it piqued my curiosity. It allowed me to, in the words of Facebook, "look back at [my] 20 biggest moments from the past year."

I clicked on the box. What resulted was a slideshow of the photos I've uploaded in 2013, plus a rundown of my status updates, in chronological order. Sadly, nearly half of the updates were links to my blog entries: my problem with Back to the Future; my problem with The Wonder Years; my struggles with Sudoku; and so on.

(I feel badly that I linked back to my own site three times in the previous paragraph. It wasn't my intention to turn this post into the blogger's version of a clip show, I swear.)

It was hard not to notice that I didn't update my relationship status on Facebook in 2013. I entered the year single, and I ended the year single. This obviously becomes more of a concern as I grow older. As I've detailed before, I subscribe to an online dating website, so it's not as if I'm not making an effort. Yet would you believe I did not meet one woman this year through the Internet? Not one. Were it not for Google's image gallery of Jennifer Lawrence, I would have felt totally let down by the World Wide Web this year.

I went on a grand total of one date this year. It was a blind date, set up by a friend. She was really nice, very cool and friendly. I enjoyed our conversation. But please don't ask if she was attractive. I have no idea. I'm sure she was, but she wore sunglasses throughout the date, and so I never saw her entire face. I thought this was unusual.

It literally was a blind date; I spent hours with a woman whose physical appearance was completely unknown to me. I was waiting for that moment when she would remove her sunglasses and reveal her true beauty, Rachael Leigh Cook style, and it never came. I was disappointed and perplexed at the same time. How could we establish whether we had a connection if I had no idea what she looked like? The only acceptable explanation for her not removing her sunglasses would be if her eyes were to shrink to Milhouse-size proportions if she did so.

Needless to say, we parted ways after that date. I'm not bitter, and I don't harbor any resentment toward her. I wish her all the best. She deserves to spend this New Year's Eve with a wonderful man. I can picture her with her arms wrapped tightly around him right now, wearing oversized 2014 glasses. I can only hope she likes him enough to take them off at midnight.

A Quick Scan Of My Health

I just scheduled an appointment with my doctor. And I am excited. I am! I haven't seen him in three years. I am long overdue for a visit.

We have a lot of catching up to do. So much has happened since the last time I saw him. I battled the flu for several days in the winter of 2012. I discovered a mole on the side of my neck last January. My blood pressure may or may not have reached dangerous levels. And I watched a commercial for Nexium, and I can't stop wondering whether it's right for me.

I have a very special relationship with my doctor. I've known him for most of my life, and he's treated me very well. I feel very comfortable sharing whatever concerns I may have with him. And if he feels the need to stick a tongue depressor in my mouth or strike my knee with a hammer while I'm sharing my concerns with him, so be it. I would prefer he gave me his full attention rather than pretend he's Dr. Thor, but he's earned my trust.

The reason for my upcoming visit is a simple physical examination, which typically begins with a measurement of my height and weight. That's handled by my doctor's assistant. I can tell she doesn't have a high opinion of me.

She'll ask me, "How often do you check your height?" I'll reply, "Other than when I'm here? Never." And she'll shake her head in disapproval. "The doctor recommends you check your height at least once per year."

I'm certain that's not true, but since I'm not one to ruffle feathers, I'll sheepishly apologize to the assistant as I let her record my height on a doctor's scale. She tends to exaggerate the results. "Oh, you're 5'6" and a half now. Did you grow a half-inch since your last visit?" Nice try, but no, I didn't grow a half-inch. I haven't grown a half-inch in years. I was watching new episodes of California Dreams the last time I experienced a growth spurt. If I'm growing in any direction at this point in my life, it's down, not up.

I do grow paranoid on the scale when she measures my height. Especially as she lowers the height rod to the top of my head. I worry that my head will stick to the rod, like the construction worker who glued his helmet to a steel beam in the old Krazy Glue commercial. I wouldn't put it past her to pull a Krazy Glue prank on me one day.

I'm uneasy with the idea of the assistant measuring my weight, too. Not because I'm embarrassed by how much I weigh -- I'm not -- but because most individuals, including myself, prefer to measure their weight in private. It's why we keep scales in the bathroom. The assistant should understand this. I'm not some piece of fruit you can stuff into a clear plastic bag and purchase by the pound, you know.

My suggestion is to put the doctor's scale in the lavatory. Allow me to weigh myself while I'm providing a urine sample. Kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I'll measure my height in there, too. I'm confident I can pee, weigh myself and check my height all at once. I'm reasonably sure of it.

Since we're on the subject of urine tests, let me share with you one small concern I have. I can't hold it in any longer. The concern, not the urine.

It takes far too long to process the results of a urine test -- sometimes several days. I can't wait that long. I demand instant analysis. I'm a very competitive person. I've been that way since I was a student. I need to know whether I performed better than the other patients I sat with in the waiting room -- the man with the thick glasses, the woman chatting on her cell phone, the kid reading Highlights magazine.

I know we have the technology to make this happen. I saw it at work in high school, when I took countless multiple-choice, fill-in-the-bubble tests that were graded electronically. In a matter of seconds, a machine would process and grade a test. I could then compare results with classmates I knew I was smarter than. It was great.

I remember the machine would register a loud tick every time it detected a wrong answer. If I performed poorly on a test, I'd hear a long series of ticks. Now that was an awful feeling, but at least I could experience it right away.

So I ask: Why can't urine tests be graded electronically? Let's make it happen. Just pour the urine into a machine and let it work its magic. Tick, tick, tick, tick.... "Hmmm, it appears you have acid reflux disease. Please wait one moment while the machine prints a prescription for Nexium for you."

When I visit my doctor, I'll ask him for his opinion on whether urine tests should be electronically graded, and whether that would be right for him.

My Struggles With Sudoku

I was a natural at math when I was a student. I consistently earned A's in my math classes throughout high school and college. I never felt challenged. And I had enrolled in advanced classes: Linear Algebra, Calculus I, Calculus II, Calculus III. (Not surprisingly, the Calculus sequels did not live up to the original.)

I knew my way around numbers. They could be small. They could be large. They could be rational. They could be irrational. They could even be imaginary. It didn't matter. I handled them all with ease. As hard as they tried, they just could not stump me.

I'm telling you this because I have an embarrassing admission to make: I have never completed a Sudoku puzzle. Not even ones that were marked "easy." I have no explanation for this; why am I able to solve complex equations but unable to master a simple game involving the most basic of numbers?

What makes this especially frustrating is that each and every one of my closest friends has successfully completed a Sudoku puzzle. And I take pride in surrounding myself with people who are not as intelligent as I am. You can imagine why my struggles with Sudoku would nag at me, then.

So it was with an extra sense of purpose that I removed the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket in front of me during a recent plane trip. What better way to kill four hours on a plane than to tackle the airline's Sudoku puzzle and overcome one of my greatest shortcomings?

If you're wondering what the other shortcomings are, they are, in no particular order, my lack of cooking skills, my addiction to Sour Patch Kids, and my Cal Ripken Jr.-esque streak of consecutive days without a date.

I flipped to the page in the magazine on which the Sudoku puzzle was located, and would you believe that some of the boxes were already filled in? In ink? Boy, was I mad, mad at how inconsiderate the previous occupant of my seat had been.

It's my personal belief that a passenger should leave behind the in-flight magazine in the same condition he or she found it. Do not crease, bend, or change the shape of the magazine. Do not tear out any of the articles. And do not ruin the Sudoku puzzle for future passengers. Don't ruin my chance to finally subdue Sudoku.

Fortunately, I found another productive way to occupy my time on the plane. I turned the page to the listings of the in-flight movies that were offered by the airline. I already knew what one of them would be -- I did my research on the airline's website a few days beforehand. I always do that before a trip. I want to know what to expect.

There's always an initial sense of excitement --  "Wow, they're going to show Man of Steel!" -- before it sinks in that only the customers who are flying internationally will have the privilege of watching a popular film like Man of Steel. Inevitably, that excitement turns to bitter disappointment when I scan the listings for domestic flights. "Ah, come on, R.I.P.D.? I'm not watching that!" Of course, I probably will watch at least part of R.I.P.D., but I won't have to like it.

It turns out that this particular flight offered an on-demand entertainment system on the back of each seat, offering more than 25 movies and several TV shows. A much wider selection than the website led me to believe. This was a pleasant surprise. And -- this was even more unexpected -- it was free! Amazing!

My priorities shifted. If I couldn't work on the Sudoku puzzle, I was going to work on watching as much programming as possible on the little TV screen in front of me before the plane landed. I immediately launched the airline's version of Iron Man 3, which was different from the theatrical release in that the airline's name was plastered on the screen every 10 minutes.

That wasn't as annoying as the constant interruptions from the pilot, who would literally pause the movie whenever he had something on his mind. It was as if he truly wanted to replicate the moviegoing experience for me with his chatter. "Hello, just wanted to let you know that we're at cruising altitude, we'll be passing Atlanta in just a little bit. Clear skies ahead...."

Fine. Now can I get back to the movie, please? If I was interested in the condition of the skies, I'd watch the skies through the window. But as it happens, I'm watching Iron Man 3 on my screen. The Mandarin is destroying Robert Downey Jr.'s home. Please silence your P.A. system now.

Once Iron Man 3 ended, I quickly searched through the other options. It was only then that I discovered that HBO shows were available to me. I can't overstate how exciting this was, since I don't subscribe to HBO at home. Now I could watch it for free. I mean, it was free after the hundreds of dollars I spent on the flight, plus the additional airline fees. It was a nice little bonus, all the same.

I tuned into Louis C.K.'s latest comedy special, but my eyes frequently wandered to the neighboring screens, because I'm nosy and I wanted to judge the passengers seated next to me based solely on their viewing habits. One man was locked in on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. I couldn't believe it. I nearly tapped him on the leg and said, "Excuse me, I just wanted to let you know that there's free HBO on this plane. You don't have to watch Guy Fieri if you don't want to."

I was surrounded by many others whose screen was set to the flight map. I had no desire to interact with them, because I'm sure the only thought on their minds was, "Are we there yet?" So whiny. Pass.

After Louis C.K.'s set was done, I switched to The Wire. I have been told many, many times that this is one of the best dramas of my lifetime. But again, I'm not an HBO subscriber, so I've never seen it. I resolved to binge-watch as much Wire as I could before the plane landed. Unfortunately, I'd lost track of time, and 5 minutes into the first episode, the pilot took control of the P.A. system: "We've started our descent. We will be arriving at our final destination in 30 minutes."

I was so disappointed. I called over a flight attendant and made a simple request. "I know this sounds odd, but...can the pilot circle the airport for about a half-hour? Maybe he can fly the plane to Detroit and then fly back? Please, this is my first time watching The Wire." 

For the next several minutes, I continuously glanced over to a nearby flight map, and the plane kept crawling toward the airport. Dang it. So much for catching up on The Wire.

So now I have two goals for my next flight: conquer Sudoku and watch more of The Wire. I should be able to do both, if my math is right.

The Problem With: "Family Matters"

I have a soft spot in my heart for Family Matters, which aired from 1989-1998. It had all of the hallmarks of a memorable '90s teen sitcom: characters with at least one catchphrase that entered the pop culture lexicon; a nerd with an unrequited crush; the occasional episode that tackled a serious topic....

....And a theme song whose lyrics fans can recite to this very day. Last year, an American Idol contestant had the audacity to perform the Family Matters theme, "As Days Go By," for his audition. And he passed. I argue that this is the best reality TV audition we will ever see, unless someone musters up the courage to reenact the open to Blossom.

Family Matters also holds a small place in television history as the linchpin of ABC's Friday-night comedy lineup in the '90s, which was promoted as TGIF. Yes, it was the home to other classic sitcoms such as Full House, Boy Meets World, Perfect Strangers, and Step by Step, but, as best as I can tell, Family Matters remained in that programming block for the longest period of time. (Family Matters aired on CBS its final season.)

Back to the Family Matters theme for a moment. Did you know the show's original theme was Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World"? Watch and listen to the first minute and a half of the video below.

What an odd choice. In any event, the theme was changed to "As Days Go By" after five episodes.

Skip ahead to the 6:20 mark of the clip. That's essentially the Family Matters intro we all love and remember. The opening lines of the song bring back a flood of memories: "It's a rare condition, this day and age, reading the good news on the newspaper page."

Coincidentally or not, those lyrics are followed by a shot of Mother Winslow holding an issue of Rolling Stone with U2 on the cover. The cover promotes Rolling Stone's "1987 Readers And Critics Poll," and refers to U2 as "The Band That Beat The Boss."

It's a rare condition, this day and age, reading the good news on the newspaper page. U2 beats The Boss. Lots of bad news out there. U2 beats The Boss.

The underlying message is, the theme's songwriters hated U2, considered Bruce Springsteen losing to U2 in an unscientific Rolling Stone poll to be bad news "on the newspaper page," and decided to take a jab at the group, years after the issue was released. I've never held a grudge for that long against U2.

This is not the problem I have with Family Matters, by the way. And I will not pick apart some of the absurd story lines on the show, especially toward the end of its run. Namely, the complicated love triangle between Steve Urkel, his more suave alter ego Stefan Urquelle, and Laura Winslow.

If you had the patience to watch the entire video above, you may already know where I'm headed with this. Beginning with the fifth season, the actress who played Judy is conspiciously absent from the show's intro. That's because her character was eliminated. Judy was kicked out of the Winslow home, without warning.

This was not entirely unusual for a TGIF comedy; Step by Step, for example, also phased out one of its youngest stars, the one who filled the role of Brendan. Here's the difference between the two shows:  Brendan's father was a construction worker who was prone to mental lapses. Judy's father, Carl, was a cop. A cop! A well-respected cop, at that. And he never once noticed that his youngest child, all of a sudden, was missing from the kitchen table at dinnertime? And he didn't realize her absence whenever her birthday would roll around? And he never asked for an update on Judy from his wife? "Hey honey, I haven't seen our precious daughter Judy in a few years. Whatever happened to her?" That question never crossed his mind?

As the seasons went by, I waited for the episode when Carl Winslow would launch an official investigation into where Judy went. It never came. I was very disappointed. Carl let me down, and he let his family down.

Family matters? Not all family.

In case you missed it:

The Problem With: "Back To The Future"
The Problem With: "The Wonder Years"