when you name your child Jeeves, you're pretty much setting him up for life

Remember that bit that Jerry Seinfeld used to do, I think it was the opening bit on the episode where he and George sit down to write their pilot for NBC, where he says that sometimes the name really does make the man, like how when you name a child Jeeves you're pretty much setting him up to be a butler?

Here is further proof of that theory: Ben Affleck's publicist is named Ken Sunshine. It's the perfect name for someone whose job it is to make even the bad stuff sound good. In fact, I defy you all to come up with a better real-sounding name for a publicist, and there's a loaf of banana bread or a batch of cookies in it for the winner.

(I don't know what a Shiloh Nouvel can possibly grow up to be that isn't along the lines of what we'll charitably call a "burlesque adult entertainer." Any thoughts on that? Also, has anyone told them yet that "nouvel" is the masculine form of the adjective, and so for a daughter it should theoretically be "Nouvelle?" What kind of issues will she have as a result? Will that be what pushes her into her future life of depravity? Not that there's anything wrong with that...)

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It seems as though James Blunt has actually been barred from one UK radio station. According to NME.com, they did a listener-feedback thing, and the one comment that kept coming up was "please don't play any more James Blunt," apparently more than they have ever gotten about any other artist. I suppose it serves James Blunt right for saying things like "To all those bastards who don't like my music - you're all adults, you can switch your radio off" (hey, there's another example of a person's name affecting their life!) Just as fat, ugly people who live in glass houses and walk around naked shouldn't leave great piles of stones on the curb in front of their house, people whose voices sound as broken and uneven as their ghastly British teeth shouldn't tell people to stop listening to their music, because look what happens. (Seriously, read the article, it's hysterical...)

This does give me hope, though, that there is strength in numbers, change is possible, and we do still live in a democracy, so I encourage you all to speak up and tell your radio stations what you don't want to hear played anymore. (If you could start with James Blunt, Celine Dion, Nickleback, Rhianna, Gwen Stefani, and Black Eyed Peas, and gradually work your way further down the list, making sure to include anyone who has ever appeared on any American, Canadian, or any other Idol show, that would be awesome, but you make your own decisions.) Seriously - do it. Just type the station name and your city into your Google toolbar, hit enter, follow the link to their site, and once you're there, look for anything that says things like "online music director," "tell us what you think," "rate your favorite songs," etc. Spread the word, get your friends and colleagues involved - it's their ears being assaulted too. The best part is that many stations have contests for people who do those things, so it's fully conceivable that you could actually win a prize for telling them their music programming is crap (and if it turns out to be a prize you don't want, well, then, that's what eBay's for, and it would be 100% pure profit, too. Unless it's Radiohead tickets, in which case that's a nice early birthday present for me. I'm just sayin'.)

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I read a fairly interesting article in The Gazette today that said that blogging actually started in the 1700s, with one-page, independently produced tracts being passed around coffeehouses and/or sold in small shops on a regular basis. Here is a small excerpt for you:

The single sheet (paper was taxed and pricey) carried a big masthead, maybe a subtitle or epigram, details on where to buy it and the price. You could pop that up in a shop window. It also carried the top of the essay.

The back of the page carried the rest of the essay, and some ads - for a business, if the writer was lucky enough to sell ads, for his own work otherwise.

Or her own work. The medium was open to women. A regular periodical called The Tatler was published three times a week; The Female Tatler, written by an anonymous woman, was published on the other three days.

Now, while I do feel lucky to be able to do this electronically and not have to worry about the rising cost of paper, and I kind of like the "anonymous woman" thing (those of you who know me - shhh, keep it under your hat), and I do especially appreciate how blessed we are to apparently have one more day in the week now than there was in the 1700s, the thing about the ads makes me think.

I've managed to keep this space ad-free until now, mostly becase I despise ads, and also because the only real expense involved in this is the electricity to run my computer, and the monthly cost of internet access, but things being what they are, I can't help thinking - Joe Blow 1700 was making a little money doing this, and I'm not? Even without the high taxes on paper, and with the benfit of there now being a seventh day in the week, both advantages that Mr 1700 did not have, somehow, even without adjusting for inflation, he made more money doing this than I do?

It really, really kills me to say this, but I may have to start allowing ads on this site. I'm sorry, it goes against everything I stand for and everything I believe in, and even just typing this sentence I feel like a small part of my soul is - well, not quite dead, but maybe badly beaten. That said though, unless something really good happens, I may have to just suck it up. I will, however, offer this compromise: I will wait until June 15th before taking the plunge, and I promise to viciously mock as many of the ads as I can, so at least we can all have some fun...

In the meantime, does anyone have any guesses as to which of the days of the week is the latecomer to the party, and how that all went down?
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Huh. "Asinine" only takes one "s." I'd have thought it took two, to at least make the pun.