January 27, 2003
I intended to conduct an experiment centered on Sunday’s Super Bowl telecast. Using myself as the test subject, I would take in the whole day of television and keep a journal detailing all pre-, inter-, and post-game programming. Not only would I gain insight on the current cultural landscape, but I wouldn’t have to move very much. Then today I would post thought-provoking but delightfully humorous observations on the media spectacle. But it didn't work out.

I discovered very early in the broadcast that the endless pre-game show is not meant to be precisely 'watched.' It's really designed to simply play in the background while people gather at parties. The implicit assumption is that no audience member will maintain constant exposure to it. Without being reminded, viewers are expected to take frequent breaks and avoid being saturated and subject to mental degeneration. At first I complied, occasionally flipping over to NBC to watch snippets of "Teen Wolf," or by doing quick rounds of calisthenics. But eventually I lost momentum and was rendered motionless and thoughtless by the telecast. Sitting through it all was very taxing mentally, and I had descended into a drooling funk with two hours still remaining until kickoff. Today, I remember little about the game itself. Every time I emerged from the haze a different Tampa player was returning a Rich Gannon interception for a touchdown, so I assume the Buccaneers went on to win.

As a result of my stupor (a phrase which I’m having to start sentences with far too often lately), the writing became less than inspired. By the end, it had been reduced to a series of typo-laden grunts (and yes, this is different from my usual). So I will have to summarize my findings on American culture using three bullet points:

1. People like looking at other people.

2. People especially like looking at other people if those being looked at are talented in some manner, or in the case of football players, are ramming violently into each other.

3. Talent can be disregarded if those being looked at are wearing very few articles of clothing.

Anyway, we now live in a world where the Tampa Bay Buccaneers have won a Super Bowl. Doesn't seem all that different, but yet something doesn’t quit feel right. Like Income Tax Day or Election Day, I have this vague sense that something is wrong somewhere and we are all powerless to stop it. Maybe we’ve entered a parallel dimension. I haven’t seen any outward signs of such a transformation, but I have been arrested, bound and gagged, and told repeatedly that I have no rights under Ape Law.

January 22, 2003
Oh well...hiatus is for wimps.

At BuriedintheNoise-dot-com World Headquarters, we crave the excitement and danger that hiatus simply does not provide. But we also crave herbal tea and warm, soft beds. Go figure.

Part of the reason I'm going to throw the vacation time back into the vault is that I cannot deny my reader(s) important, hard-hitting Super Bowl coverage. Information on this event is sparse at best (at least, I would theorize it is, I have not yet had time to really look into it). So, I'm going to get my hands dirty and travel to San Diego to cover the event. I printed up some press credentials on Photoshop and everything. Clearly, I am not still home slogging through a winter storm, shovelling off my sidewalk and pressing my tongue against cold metal things. Clearly I'm in San Diego. Clearly.

Anyway, I write today to note another BuriedintheNoise-dot-com first! The most recent post accomplished something I’ve never been able to do before. I managed to create a piece that is boring to two different audiences in two entirely different ways. Another sign that Josh is developing as a writer!

Chances are, if you don’t really follow professional football (read: millionaires fighting over a ball) then you didn’t understand Friday's post at all and found it even less entertaining than my usual stuff. On the other side, if you do follow the game you noticed that I openly mocked every team for every oft-written label they carry:

Oakland Raiders: Unusually old players (for a football team, this means an average age of like 29). Extremely frightening fans. Low-impact offensive attack. Overreactive owner with a grudge.

Tennessee Titans: Invincible quarterback with possible regenerative abilities.

Philadelphia Eagles: Easily perturbed fans. Coach of impressive girth.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers: A bunch of loudmouth whiners.

All of these notions are written about far too extensively already in sports journalism. Gasp! Is it possible that our trusted sports journalists are occasionally guilty of taking shortcuts in their work, and just writing whatever pops into their minds instead of doing research and providing in-depth insightful analysis? Yes, Jimmy, I’m afraid it is.

But I will apologize for the above being more cliched than truthful (except for the thing about the Buccaneers).

So either you don’t watch the NFL and found the piece boring because the Super Bowl, at best, merely provides three hours of entertaining commercials once a year. Or you do follow the sport but found the piece boring because it rehashed some old, tired material.

But wait! I’ve bored everyone in at least four separate ways with this entry! Josh does it again!

Tomorrow: More Super Bowl coverage, as Tennessee Titans' Defensive End Jevon Kearse grants me an exclusive interview! Plus important and unrelated news about animals from the future.

January 21, 2003
1:33pm: Snow begins to fall. However, the weather forecast implies it will stop as soon as late May.

BuriedintheNoise-dot-com will be on hiatus for this week. Direct any angry but thought-provoking hate mail here. You might also take the opportunity to investigate some of the items on the links page.

Should your thirst for entertainment remain unsated, I recommend seeing a movie called 'The Two Towers' which may or may not be playing in your area. I'm hoping we can get enough folks together to see this one so that we might keep the franchise afloat. Thanks for your time.

January 15, 2003
Making an Omelet, Potatoes, and Toast

January 13, 2003
Today is the Official Launch of BuriedintheNoise-dot-com! Help yourself to some herbal tea and a cupcake. Yes, this is all I have. No, I don’t provide refunds.

So why have an official launch? I dunno...sounds cool. Why today? Just feels like time. I have a Mission Statement. I have stationery. I have a new computer. It’s time to start posting content instead of content about content, too.

Anyway, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, often you will feel the urge to do both simultaneously. You’ll think, you’ll dream, you’ll get hungry and grab a snack, you’ll take a brief nap, you’ll come back but then grow bored and go to eBay instead. But at least you’ll visit. And that brings me precious ad revenue.

So, whether you’re a friend, family member, devoted reader, confused stranger, or disgruntled hacker, I hope you enjoy the site, and I hope to keep you coming back.

Comments or suggestions? Drop me a line at josh@buriedinthenoise.com

Hate mail or threats? Drop me a line at my special alert address: president@whitehouse.gov (Be sure to describe threat explicitly and provide home address.)

January 7, 2003
Updates are coming altogether slowly lately, but the corner is soon to be turned. Right now I'm immersed in getting graduate school applications together and fighting plumbing problems in my house. Please stay tuned, and don't eat all the Wheat Thins.

January 3, 2003
As I sit in my office, which has inexplicably begun to smell like dog food, I ponder over the events of 2002. I realize that, in so many words, it sucked.

Granted, any good whining session from a white guy with no serious disease living in the industrialized world must contain caveats and admissions that things really weren't that bad. But my year had a good smattering of all the really rotten things that can happen to a mild-mannered guy like me. However, we try and grow. We move past it.

We look towards a 2003 containing no divorces or plumbing problems (internal or external).
We hope Resident Bush doesn't start up a few wars just because his Oil Baron buddies could only afford the payments on seven of their seasonal homes this year.
We hope people read a book rather than watch "Joe Millionaire."
We hope I don't drop my new notebook computer as I take it out of its box. We also hope I don't end up selling a kidney to pay it off.
We hope Jello Pudding Pops are sold wherever I attend graduate school.
We hope "Please" "Thank You" and "Excuse Me" do not vanish altogether from the lexicon.
We hope tall scrawny guys become universally recognized by females as gorgeous hunks of man-flesh.
We hope that BuriedintheNoise-dot-com continues to evolve and mature (extend lucrative contract offers here.)

And for universe's sake, we hope the Raiders don't win the Super Bowl.

So I glance back over my list. I know I could add a lot more to it. I have also learned while writing it that I was smelling stale popcorn, not dog food (note-- dog food: tastes like popcorn?). So I think you never know what you might be getting. Maybe tomorrow will be better in a way you never completely expected.

Past archives:

November/December 2002 - Mission Statement Q (no A), Republican pirahna, Preliminary grad school jitters, Josh Dollars and cursed sandwiches, being naked and screaming

2002-03 BuriedintheNoise.com
Permission for reproduction will be granted if you ask nicely.