| What is it that Bill Gates wants? World peace? Unlimited cheesecake? I have a darling, 8-year-old Mitsubishi in the garage that could be melted down to heat his cavernous mansion. Perhaps my first born? I only ask because it seems as though he's following me. Last November I was dutifully checking the official Madonna Web site and saw, to my horror, that she had sold the rights to her song "Ray of Light" to Microsoft for an estimated $14 million. At least Lourdes had a good Christmas this year. The following weekend, I was hunched over a computer punching out one too many papers when the machine seized and went black. I had just written 10 pages without saving. Stupid, I know, but if we can send someone to the outer reaches of space, I don't think it's unreasonable to produce a computer that doesn't shit itself whenever I write more than 1,000 words. Upon discovering that the infernal machine decided not to utilize its recovery component when the computer rebooted, I typed "I hate Bill Gates" in a manical, seething moment. Clicking "word count" just for kicks, I inadvertantly hit "thesaurus" instead (maybe I should just hand write things from now on) and the phrase "I drink to you" popped up on the screen. Bill Gates was taunting me from my own computer! He was sitting in his state-of-the-art palace, listening to custom-made music, ordering Microsoft minions to get him his slippers and plotting my demise. Bastard. I decided to calm myself by going to a movie. Slumped in the uncomfortable theatre seats, the smell of processed butter clinging to my sweater, I prepared to be lost in the allure of Hollywood. But rather than the standard movie trailor, what did I hear? The opening chords to "Ray of Light." Before I could make a run for it, computer-animated people were flying through the air onscreen over technicolored landscapes. "Faster than a speeding light I'm flying," Madonna sang as the ubiquitous Microsoft logo flashed ahead to brainwash the masses. I glanced at the audience to monitor the terror. The crowd appeared unphased. What was going on? This was supposed to be the intelligent, art crowd. We were gathered to see the award-winning French film "Amelie," not some rip-off of "The Fast and the Furious." Why weren't they also enraged at the blatant corporate propaganda? This event brings up another issue. After Microsoft issued its call to join the kingdom via our movie screens, commericals followed for Ford, Samsung and a brand of shampoo. Let me make this clear. I was at the movies. I shelled out $8.50 to watch a film, not waste my time by sitting through yet another ad made for suburban, anorexic white girls and their credit cards. Corporations don't even have the decency anymore to brainwash me subliminally through product placement. It's now right out there with assanine slogans and commerical plotlines that have nothing to do with the product. Remember when Abercrombie advertised its fall line of "clothing" by featuring naked men on horseback? Not that I minded; just thought I'd point that out. Isn't it bad enough that our favorite sitcoms run somewhere around 6.5 minutes long with current commercial content? When I was studying abroad in London last semester, the standard TV format was the broadcast a show for 30 minutes or so, take a 15 minute break for commercials and then resume to broadcast another show in its entirety. Hour-long shows had one break half-way through and the movies had two brief intermissions. Granted British television consists of "The Weakest Link," horrible soap operas starring ugly country bumpkins and, after midnight, naked, fat women jumping rope (I'm not kidding), but they have the right idea in terms of commercial content. The trend shows no sign of dying out. With networks grappling to post a profit after 24-hour, no commercial coverage in the weeks following Sept. 11, execs will likely encourage any money-making scheme imaginable. Corporations seem to have followed suit by invading our movie theaters. As for Bill Gates, I will drink to you. And if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to drink a whole lot. At least until the twitching stops. |
| A Microsoft on my back |
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