I’m Not a Cat Lady

Dancing With the Stars, Season 11: Week 5. Bristol's Just Monkeying Around

Tonight’s gimmick is TV Theme Week. This the second week with a “first ever” theme, and while last week’s effort—intimate stage, two-tier scoring—seemed legitimate, this feels completely gratuitous. I don’t know if this is an attempt to spice up the format or what, but I think we're in for a rough ride.

The episode begins with a long-ass prerecorded segment in which each contestant is critiqued in great detail by a different judge. But it’s quite interesting to hear Len, Carrie Ann and Bruno get down to the nitty gritty of each contestant’s strong and weak spots without being summarily cut off by Tom Bergeron. And fantastic to see Len speak so passionately about the talent he sees in some of the dancers. (He kicks off his soliloquy on Miss Patridge with an enthusiastic, if slightly leering, “Audrina, have ya seen ‘er?” Way to keep the cockney rhyming slang alive, fella!)

The judges’ comments are illustrated by slo-mo footage that shows us a lot of the nuance that we miss at home, like how Kyle leads too much with his chin and how Bristol is a “natural mover.” Note to producers: This should become a regular feature to be incorporated into the Lowered Expectations Sequence. In fact, it should replace the increasingly contrived LES altogether, don’t you think? It's getting tired.

Onto the first performace.

Brandy

The theme: Friends.

LES: Brandy insists she loves this song. Like any good soul diva would. She also thinks it’s so appropriate because, you know, she and Maks are becoming friends at last. Brandy seems to be overcompensating for the previous weeks’ tension by kissing and touching Maks a lot. And to be honest, he looks a little skeeved out.

On the floor: Brandy and Maks are frantically doing the quickstep to a version of the Friends song that's sped up to Alvin & the Chipmunks fast. Somehow it looks more like a jive to me—there’s lots of running and skipping and little bunny hops, and it’s all over before it even began. I have no idea what I just saw.

The judges: Len: "I’m so impressed with that, I’m not joking!” Bruno: “You found the right formula. You were on it!” Carrie Ann: “You’re at a whole nother level right now.”

The scores: 27. Three 9s!

Florence

The theme: The Brady Bunch. Sigh. Poor Flo, as if she doesn’t have enough problems.

LES: Corky’s relieved that Flo’s body's holding up better than predicted. Then, for no apparent reason, Greg Brady turns up at rehearsal. Flo reminisces about how he had a big crush on her back in the day, she won’t confirm or deny any kind of “relationship”, they dance together and kiss on the lips and, yuck, I’m a little creeped out.

On the floor: They’re dancing the tango to the bouncy Brady Bunch theme? Oh come on. Flo and Corky are forced to speed through the tango’s intricate moves at a manic pace to sync up with the song and, quite rightly under the circumstances, they ham it up a little. It is so patently ridiculous.


The judges: Bruno thought it was “fabulous” at the beginning but is annoyed that she went “from classic to rag doll mode.” Carrie Ann: “I liked it. You're a sexy senior and you worked it.” But: “Some of the moves threw you off on the timing.” To which Flo replies, “You try to do the tango to the Brady Bunch theme.” Go, Flo, because you were screwed by the music again! Len is kinder: “You have got to Week 5 on merit, it's not a fluke. I think that's possibly your best dance so far.”

The scores: 21.

Kurt

The theme:  Bewitched

LES: Anna's from Russia, she’s never heard of Bewitched or Walter Payton; Kurt's never heard of the famous Russian dogs who went into space; gee whiz, so many cultural differences! Oh, and Kurt needs to get his scores up.

On the floor: They're dancing the quickstep. Anna does a few nose twitches. They camp it up a bit and look pretty damn goofy into the bargain. But for some reason, the crowd really eats it up.


The judges: Carrie Ann: “I just think I saw the spirit of Gene Kelly enter the body!” Len: “After last week the only way is up and up you have gone. A great performance.” Bruno: “The magic is back... Brilliant!”

The scores: 24.

Audrina

The theme: The Hills. Oy vey.

LES: Miss Drina brought no passion to the tango last week. Now she's got to do the rhumba. It's the dance of love. That's a little awkward for our wide-eyed, innocent girl. So Tony drops what he purports to be Richard Gere’s little secret: Eating raw onions will kill the awkwardness. Huh? Even Bergeron thinks that's a crock.

On the floor: Drina's rocking her skimpiest costume yet, which by the way is much more I Dream of Jeannie than The Hills. They're not really dancing, they're just kinda moving around and striking poses and, again, there’s such a major disconnect between the song and the moves that I just give up. This whole TV Theme really stinks.


The judges: Len: “Lovely feet and legs, nice hip action, but occasionally you looked a bit intimidated.” Bruno: “Technically you have improved...” but “Don't be plastic, be fantastic!” Carrie Ann: “Everything was gorgeous from the hips down” but “it was sort of still and dead.”

The scores: 23

Kyle

The theme: Charlie’s Angels

LES: Kyle's got to get that technique thing down, so Lacey brings in Kim and Chelsie because... Oh forget it, it’s just too tedious.

On the floor: So who’s Kyle supposed to be, Sam Jackson from Pulp Fiction? Oh wait, it's Tom Bosley. Who just passed away, rest his soul. Kyle’s doing the foxtrot to what’s basically a disco song, so he and Lacey work in the robot and the bump and the hustle etc. and, insanely, it works.


The judges: Bruno: “You bring home the feel good factor” but “this was a foxtrot possessed by disco fever.” Carrie Ann: “I disagree! You were definitely focused on the technique and leading Lacey. I think you did a great job.” Len: “That was a joke. I couldn't stand it, I thought it was terrible.”

The scores: 20

Rick

The theme: Hill Street Blues

LES: Cheryl the Overachiever is pissed at Rick for not trying hard enough. “You're pushing me,” she pants at him. Girl’s so goddam feral. So he brings in his boys Kobe Bryant and Phil Jackson for no discernible reason and, inexplicably, it calms her down.

On the floor: It’s the rhumba. Rick does tend to stick his booty out sometimes, but this guy has the smoldering down. And as per, he throws himself into character, never taking his steely gaze from Cheryl’s face once. Probably too scared she’ll bite him.



The judges: Carrie Ann: “Officer officer I'd like to report a crime! It should be a crime that you can look so good and rhumba so well. Whoo!” Len: “I really liked it, there's an ease and a elegance about your dancing” but “I didn't really get the feeling of a developing romance.” Bruno: “In a week you went from Megatron to Megasmooth, man.”

Total score: 24

Bristol

The theme: The Monkees

LES: She's still here. And she really needs to loosen up. So Mark takes her to clown lessons. Which is such a waste: Surely life at home with Mom is one big clown school already.

On the floor: It’s The Monkees. So they’re doing the jive in gorilla suits. Geddit? Sad. Poor Bristol tries, she really does, but her timing is way off. She busts out the boob shimmies again, but her face says, “Mommy, please, get me out of here!”

Len likes the monkey suits and he thinks he saw a high degree of performance from her for once. Bruno: “You tried to perform but the technique went down the swamee.” (I think that’s what he said.) Carrie Ann: “I saw a real transformation” but “you forgot a lot of the moves.”

The scores: 18

Jennifer

The theme: Married... With Children

LES: Little Miss Perfect gets a break with the foxtrot, a nice, slow-paced dance for a change. But during rehearsal she whines about not getting it and natters about needing sugar and bickers with Derek and storms out. What a brat. She’s totally channeling her Ferris Bueller character. It was a great role for her; now we know why! Speaking of which, let’s do a quick Then and Now.

On the floor: Yet again, this bitch has the best song. “Love and Marriage” was performed by  Frank Sinatra in 1955. Matching it to the foxtrot isn't too much of a stretch. Not fair. Jennifer floats through the dance, as usual, but there's a tinge of Stepford Wife about her performance: She seems a little detached.


Oh, there's Michael J Fox in the audience, and I want to cry as I watch him clapping. God bless him.

The judges: Bruno: “Pristine, elegant, beautifully danced.” Carrie Ann: “It was good, it wasn't nearly your best.” Len: “All a bit too theatrical. I don't think you need to waste 12 bars with a feather duster.” Sage advice, that. 

The scores: 25

Who will go home. Tonight?

 

UPDATE: Well, way to go, DWTS judges and producers—with your low scores and impossibly bad music, you made sure Florence would go home and take the useless, advertising-averse older demo with her. Her heart was in this; Bristol's is not. You officially suck.

Dancing With the Stars, Season 11: Get Out the Pooper Scooper, Sarah Palin's in the House!

This season, intones Tom Bergeron, “No star is safe... Ballroom tempers are flaring!” Cut to Brandy calling Maks an asshole; Michael Bolton protecting his chin from germs; Audrina Partridge crying; and Florence Henderson yodeling like Tarzan.

It’s Dancing With the Stars, Week 2—welcome to the show! Brooke Burke flatly thanks us for making them The No. 1 Show of the Season--Tom’s like, “Eh! So what’s new?”

Tonight it’s the quickstep or the jive--a very big deal, apparently, in testing each contestant’s ballroom mettle.

We kick off with Rick Fox and the DWTS patented Low Expectations Sequence: reveal each star’s personal handicap during rehearsal—injury, illness, two left feet—and then anything that comes after that looks good.

Rick’s LES is all about the tribulations of his almighty size—The Tank has to find some lightness, dag nabbit!—and his career-ending tendon injury that makes his foot go like this:

On the floor: Rick busts out a kick-ass jive that’s all about the ass, actually—Cheryl’s wearing knickers with TUSH emblazoned across her cheeks, which he gives a nice little slap. Of course he comes up smelling like roses—and I sure hope so because, when the dance is finished, on comes that sweat!

The judges: “You have become a contender here,” pronounces Len, who actually clapped along to the dance—which is a bit like seeing your grandma head-banging along to Rush. Bruno: “It’s like trying to get a Californian condor trying to dance with a hummingbird, but you actually did it.” Carrie Ann liked him better last week. She gets booed. Quite right.

Total score: 21

Florence Henderson

LES: "Television's Most Famous Mom" wants to make something clear: She doesn’t want to be “Oh look, there’s the 76-year-old who can actually walk”, and she’s not just here to be the “older comic relief.” But, bless her, the quickstep is a little too quick for her. She’s exhausted.

On the floor: After some opening dithering in which Corky pretends she’s stepped on his foot, Florence glides through rather nicely, albeit a little limply. Why oh why was she lumbered with this dreadful version of "Suddenly I See"? Not appropriate for her or the quickstep! Who does the song selection for this show?

By the end of the dance, Corky looks pretty knackered but Florence never loses her Showbiz Face. What a trouper.

The judges: Bruno cruelly invokes Driving Miss Daisy; Carrie Ann rubs in the age issue, even though she means it as a compliment; and Len insists that age, illness, and injury will never influence his judgment: He wants her back next week. 

Total score: 19

Brandy

LES: She and Maks are butting heads. He doesn’t like her doing her own thing and he’s pushing her. They bicker. “Maks, you’re passive aggressive!” “I’m passionate!” Could this be love?

On the floor: Brandy does the jive in sexy Japanese schoolgirl mode, to yet another shockingly naff song, 'Magic'. I’m not feeling Brandy this week—she’s going through the motions, hitting the marks; then, in a silly non sequitur, she does a music video-style solo sequence and walks off at the end channeling Ru Paul or Miss Jay, all “sister-mama-girlfriend-mm-MMM!” Girl, please.

The judges: When Carrie Ann gently reprimands her for not pointing her toes, Maks jumps in to defend her and Brady sushes him: “She’s trying to help me!” They’re like an old married couple already. Len: “You’ll never dance badly because you’ve got great coordination” but calls her performance “a little bit brittle.” Bruno criticizes her for looking like a backup dancer for Gwen Stefani and adds, “‘Okay’ from you is not good enough.”

Total score: 21

Michael Bolton
LES: He’s in a mean mood this week—he has larygnitis and arrives at rehearsal wearing a face mask. He whines about how wee young Chelsie is pushing him and then scolds her like she’s one of his kids for saying “whatever”. It’s ugly.

On the floor: Worst Jive Ever. Clad in a heinous leopard-print jacket, he crawls out of a dog house then virtually just staggers awkwardly around after Chelsie. There is zero sense of rhythm or performance here. When we cut to the judges, Bruno’s rubbing his temples.

The judges: Len: “It had everything in there and probably needed a pooper scooper to finish it off.” Bruno concurs: “You should have kept the bone and gone back into the dog house” and calls it “probably the worst jive in 11 seasons”, which, strangely upsets Uncle Len. After his pooper scooper crack, is he kidding? Carrie Ann tries to soften the blow by commending him for the tragic crawling choice—which, to be fair, was Chelsie’s. Bad call.

Total score: 13
(Shocker: Bruno gives him a mere 3. The crowd boos.)

Audrina Patridge

LES: Oh dear. Seems Audrina’s DWTS schedule is harshing her relationship mellow and she brings her boyfriend trouble into rehearsal. It’s a flashback to The Hills: Once again, Drina’s hooked up with a dude that just isn’t that into her. (Because if he was, he’d be there in the audience, now wouldn’t he?) Why does this chick have such bad taste in men? And will poor Drina be able to make it through her routine?

On the floor: Hell yeah. I’ve gotta admit, she’s pretty good!

Bruno: “The show pony is turning into Secretariat!” Carrie Ann: “Huge improvement!” And she says “balls.” Hee! Len: “The best dance so far tonight!”

Total score: 23
(At rehearsal, for comic relief, Tony says he’s going to wax his legs if they get less than three 8s. Bruno give them a 7; Tony’s gotta wax his legs! And Boring Brooke gets it all wrong. Oh, that pesky math!)

Yay! Here’s the band, and here’s my girl!

Jennifer Grey

LES: Well this is a big one; talk about burying the lede. Jennifer Grey had four surgeries. She only found out by having a routine check to see if she was up to par to perform in the show. She had cancer and her spinal cord was suppressed.  The goal is to get her doing the jive “without killing her”. Those are some mighty high stakes.

On the floor: She kills it. The song is "Shake It", and our Jen takes it quite literally. She's all hotsy-totsy in a champagne fringed number that she works like hell—complete with O-face.

Hey, there’s Jamie Lee again! And thanks to our intrepid friends at Celebritology, now I know why: They’re BFFs.

The judges: Carrie Ann: “You’re like this sexy hot energizing bionic bunny out there!” Len: “Full-on, fabulous job.” Bruno: "You nailed it, that was wicked!”

Total score: 24

There’s suddenly booing in the ballroom, just before “guest commentator” Sarah Palin’s superfluous ringside interview with Tom. Oh how I hope that’s what the booing was about! There she is, all greasy lipstick and hideous Bumpit hair hill. Even Snooki’s lost the pouf, lady—let it go!

UPDATE: Aw, shucks. The booing really was for Jennifer Grey's score—the crowd wanted all 9s, not 8s. The proof, via Mediaite.

I have a feeling that giving Sarah airtime was a condition for Bristol’s appearance, as part of her build-up to her 2012 presidential bid. So I refuse to quote her.  

Margaret Cho

LES: Maggie says that after her dismal scores last week, she was persona non grata backstage: “After people would talk to me they would use hand sanitizer, trying to get the loser off.” Aww, that’s awful! Partner Louis forbids her to do the faces and hide behind the comedy this time. She cries, because she’s beginning to discover that she really is a dancer. A much better reason to cry than Drina’s!

On the floor: Maggie comes dangerously close to making That Face again, but I’m beginning to think it’s involuntary in this instance—she’s concentrating. That’s just what her face does. And once the dance starts, she snaps right out of it: She looks happy, she looks light, she’s bouncy and flirty and feminine in her frou-frou New Wave style hot-pink and zebra outfit.  What a change from last week! I think she’s the breakout of the night.

The judges: Why they’re so underwhelmed, I can’t figure out. Len wants her to work on the kicks; Bruno wants her to “tighten her buttocks”, Carrie Ann wants her to watch her shoulders and to rein in those facial expressions. “That’s just what my face is like, I can’t help it!” Maggie says. See, I told you! And she giggles just like the Asian girls she lampoons in her act.

The score: 18. Three sixes: The Devil’s Number. What?!?? She was robbed.

Kyle Massey

First of all, I love how Kyle completely brushes off being in the bottom two last week. He doesn’t even mention it—he’s just all about being “twice as good.” I want him to be in the top 3 SO BAD!

LES: It’s lack of endurance. And flexibility. And junk food. Lacey works in some “hip youthful moves” to tailor the ye olde fashioned quickstep to young Kyle’s personality, and he promises it’s going to be the “coolest, hippest, sexiest quickstep of the night.”

On the floor: Lacey wears a gown with a big frothy layered net skirt that completely obscures Kyle’s legwork, so we can hardly tell. The super-daggy song, 'I Want You To', isn’t helping.

The judges: Bruno says Kyle’s a powerhouse, but he needs more control, which seems to be the theme of the night. Carrie Ann says he’s a little flat-footed but “welcome to the new school of the quickstep”—she loves it! Len says Kyle looked as if he was engulfed in a huge feather duster and that it lacked any style but adds, “I liked it!”

Total score: 22

Kurt Warner

LES: There are no lowered expectations here: Kurt’s super-cocky this week, he even brags about implementing his own fancy moves. The big showoff.

On the floor: Talk about gung-ho. Kurt throws in a few handclap pushups and launches right in, and his dancing is impeccable—except I’m deeply distracted by his white man's overbite and lip-synching along with the song, 'Highway to the Danger Zone'. At the end, he throws in his Big Move, a salute, which one he’s so proud of. He’s so psyched with himself, he high fives the whole front row as he runs offstage. What is it about this guy that creeps me out? He’s like the aging jock at the kegger shouting “Boo ya!”

The judges: Carrie Ann says he reminds her of “everyone’s favorite uncle at the wedding who’s had a little too much to drink”—another backhanded compliment, it turns out. She’s good at those. Len: “Last week was the outhouse; tonight’s the penthouse!” Bruno calls him “a cool guy who does a cool jive” and declares, “You’ve got it!”

Total score: 21

The Situation

LES: He’s still here. And The Situation wants to dance to club or hip hop, not Brian Setzer’s version of 'Americano'. Despite the hard abs, he dances like The Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, all floppy arms and pigeon-toed feet. Not lookin’ good.

On the floor: Not lookin’ any better. He’s all over the place, looking a life-size ragdoll whose feet are attached to Karina’s with elastic bands. But his heart is really in this: The Situation wants to have some class, he wants to be a contender, instead of just a bum, which is what he is let’s face it.

Len: “It was a series of unfortunate events” but still thinks he did a good jog. Bruno thinks he’s a “very very nice guy” but says “you were drunk all the way through.” Carrie Ann criticizes his lack of musicality and blurts out the obvious: “You’re a little pigeon-toed!” Is that something that can be fixed with practice?

Total score: The Devil’s Number

Bristol Palin

LES: One word: Mom. Bristol brings partner Mark home to Alaska to meet her, as if that’s some kind of awesome reward. I call bullshit: This is more evidence that Sarah let Bristol do the show on the condition that the cameras came to her house and filmed her in full Supportive Mom mode—even though she is dolled up in full makeup, big Bumpit-hair and QVC jewelry. And for the third time we see the shot of her apeing Bristol’s big shimmy from last week. And I mean apeing: She makes a monkey noise when she does it. Not cute! When she praises her daughter for getting up there, it feels totally faked.

On the floor: Little Bristol is wearing a very strange lilac bridesmaid dress with long purple petticoats that look like they were sewn in as an afterthought, to protect her modesty. She does an admirable quickstep, but still looks like a little girl dancing with her daddy at the wedding. 

The judges: They’re unanimous. Bruno likes her fresh, non-showbiz quality but wants her to amp it up; Carrie Ann says her vulnerability reminds her of Kelly Osbourne, which, yes, is a compliment; Len says she’s nearly there but she just needs to “wow us a bit more.”

Total score: 22.

Who's going home?

UPDATE: It's between The Situation and The Bolton. Good choices, voters!

And... It's The Bolton. And is he pissed!

Oldsters Not Going Loco For Geo Loco, For Obvious Reasons

Today the New York Times has a report on how "the mainstream" has been slow to latch onto the booming new geolocation trend flaunted by the likes of Google, Foursquare, Gowalla, Shopkick and, most recently, Facebook. As reporters Claire Cain Miller and Jenna Wortham explain, GeoLoco is the Next Big Thing that's sputtering a little at takeoff:

Venture capitalists have poured $115 million into location start-ups since last year, according to the National Venture Capital Association, and companies like Starbucks and Gap have offered special deals to users of such services who visited their stores.

But for all the attention and money these apps and Web sites are getting, adoption has so far been largely confined to pockets of young, technically adept urbanites. Just 4 percent of Americans have tried location-based services, and 1 percent use them weekly, according to Forrester Research. Eighty percent of those who have tried them are men, and 70 percent are between 19 and 35.

I just have to wonder why anyone would think that this technology would appeal to anyone but a younger demo. Interviews with a couple of thirtysomethings reveal a general reluctance to broadcast where they are at all times stemming from common-sense concerns about safety and security that come with the aging-out-of-early-adulthood process. Some over-30s are drawn to the Shopkick model, which offers discounts when shoppers check into certain retail outlets, but as for the rest of it, why would anyone want to share the personal stuff? As one mother admits, “We go to playtime, the park and the grocery store. My life isn’t exciting enough to broadcast where I am and what I do.” 

It's that simple, really. When you're in your teens and your twenties, your social calendar is full. You're running around with loads of friends, hopping from one party/bar/restaurant/club/concert/dodgeball game/what-have-you to the next. The male-to-female ratio I can't explain—maybe girls are less nerdy about this stuff? More concerned about stalkers? More partial to text?—but as for the age disparity, come on already! Once you get to a certain point in your life, you have other things to worry about besides appointing yourself the Mayor of your local Dew Drop Inn. Like, if you're lucky, a job. And, luckier still, a significant other. And then there are kids. Even if you don't have them, your friends—the same ones you used to run around with, bar- and club- and party-hopping every night of the week when you were in your late teens and early twenties—definitely do. You now have to book these friends weeks in advance just to commit to a babysitter and meet you for an early-bird special. It's sad but true: Your social circle dwindles as you leave your twenties. You don't need to check in to find out where all your friends are—you're not hanging out together like you used to, you are all no longer so spontaneous, and when you do get together, it's usually the result of a plan.

But of course the Times has to turn this into yet another piece about how Old People Just Don't Get Newfangled Technology. "Location services are catching on more quickly with young people, who have grown up posting personal information online," they state. And then they quote some idiot who says, "The magic age is people born after 1981. That’s the cut-off for us where we see a big change in privacy settings and user acceptance.”

No, fella. People born after 1981 are under 30. They're the only ones a location service like Foursquare or Gowalla would appeal to. Has nothing to do with growing up with both thumbs glued to a glassy iPhone screen. Does anyone honestly think that once today's under-30s grow up, get married and start having kids that they'll still obsessively check in to see if any of their friends are at the day care center dropping off the  little'uns, or at the Home Depot? My guess is that by the time today's Geo-Loco enthusiasts have reached that point, Geo-Loco as we know it now will be as hot as Friendster.

Shocker: Kids Love Watching Good Old-Fashioned TV

You know how you're always hearing from media analyzers and pundits that TV is dead because nobody sits and watches it like people did in the olden days anymore, but streams on their computers or iPhones—especially The Kids? Guess what? Not true.

Hannah Montana, Jonas, iCarly, Drake & Josh and Zoey 101 are among the top shows on cable, they're often the most-watched shows in all of broadcast in their time slot, and they're No. 1 among a demo that includes ages 6 to 11 and 9 to 14. The Disney channel is the No. 1 choice for tweens. But here's what's really interesting. The writers on these shows are veterans of old-school sitcoms like Roseanne, The Jeffersons and The Facts of Life. And these shows all stick to the tried-and-true multi-camera/laughtrack formula made popular by golden-age-era TV shows like I Love Lucy and The Honeymooners.

I heard this report on NPR's All Things Considered tonight, and it totally stopped me in my tracks. The writers on these shows model them on those they consider the classics: Taxi, Bewitched, The Brady Bunch, Cheers, Dif'frent Strokes, et al. In an episode called "I Love Sushi," Drake and Josh do an updated version of the old Lucy-and-Ethel-at-the-chocolate-factory gag. But with sushi. And it killed. Still funny after 50 years.

At a time when everyone is panicking about how to keep up with the new-fangled whims of Kids Today—their wee brains wired so very differently from their parents, what with all that growing up with computers and cellphones and iPods and whatnot—here they are, perfectly happy with cheesy old-fashioned TV shows just like the ones their great-grandparents watched. Written by people who are considered too old to hire for primetime broadcast and cable shows.

Deliciously ironic, don'tcha think?

Old-School Sitcoms Find Fans Among a Younger Set

All Twitter, All the Time

  The New York Times' obsession with Twitter is getting a little creepy. Since May 1st, it has racked up seven articles about Twitter, including, confoundingly, a blog entry about how a U.S. commander in Iraq doesn't use it. And that's not even counting the references: In his Bits blog entry What Annoys Me About Twitter on April 22, Saul Hanson provided his own count of 32 references that day—one of them being, serendipitously, Why I'm Obsessed With Twitter. What might have pulled the proverbial finger from the dyke—oops, dike—was Oprah Winfrey's decision to become a late adapter a few days earlier—live! AND ALL IN CAPS!—which caused Twitter traffic (Twaffic?) to jump by 43 percent.

It's okay to get all excited about new-fangled phenomena, but this is a little extreme. Yesterday's Sunday Styles piece, A Night Out With the Twitter Guys, is like the New York Times starring in an episode of MADE called "I Want to Sit at the Cool Table!" It's The Real Housewives of New York's Ramona dressing like her daughter. It's a little pathetic. The average age of the NYT's reader is 45.9, which falls in the age range that makes up 5 percent of Twitter's demo. The average NYT reader doesn't need 24-hour bulletins on Twitter, nor to hang out with the Twitter Guys, who, by the way, seem like fabulous dinner companions—they spent most of the evening staring into their phones, tweeting. (And, um, look at them. This is the cool table?)

The NYT needs to calm down already and to stop trying to be as hip as its kids. Their brains are wired differently, they're moving faster than you are, don't be so desperate to keep up. You might rip a tendon.

photo via New York Times

UPDATE: Browsing through Gawker this morning I came across this item about writer Dan Baum Twittering his experience of getting hired and fired by the New Yorker. Unfortunately, Gawker's also gone all breathless over Twitter in recent months too—no doubt a result of its shift into its more advertising-friendly corporate environment of late—and applauds this gimmicky move as the future of journalism, right here right now. Except: Come on. He's just writing an essay 140-characters-at-a-time, creating serial tweets that can't possibly hold up individually but require a separate forum to string each tweet together. It's an embarrassingly transparent gimmick. It ain't tweeting, it's twatting.

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: Dan Baum explains his rationale behind the micro-serialization here. It's an interesting argument. Still, I call bullshit.