• Images-4 They say "actions speak louder than words". 

    Unless, that is, you're talking about Customer Service. Today, many companies subscribe to the theory that if you merely use the right words, you can get away with just about anything.  Stupid Customer Service Jargon – the evil cousin of Stupid Corporate Marketingspeak – is everywhere these days.

    Case in point: Jamba Juice.  Now, I'm a huge fan of Jamba Juice.  Their all-natural fruit smoothies are so refreshingly delicious, I'm even willing to overlook the cloyingly cute, pun-ridden product names ("Orange A-Peel!"
    "Berry Fulfilling!").

    As for their service, well, let's just say it's mixed.  Sometimes, the person who takes my order is incredibly perky and responsive.  Other times, not so much.  Running noisy blenders and slaving over a wheat grass juicer all day is a thankless job.  So once in a while, I've been known to encounter a sullen, passive-aggressive Jamba Juice employee with something of an attitude problem. In other words, the service is about the same as any other franchise that hires young people, pays them the minimum wage and asks them to smile while performing menial tasks they feel are like, soooo beneath them.

    I can deal with that.  As long as I get my Orange A-Peel with Energy Boost,
    I'm a happy camper. 

    But apparently, for the Powers That Be at Jamba Juice, good enough isn't good enough.  This is a company that is obsessed with Customer Service.  Or at least, the concept of it.  They've swallowed  the Customer Service Bullshit Jargon Kool-Aid – and they regurgitate the lingo every chance they get…whether it's on their cheerful, in-store posters or their a tad-too-precious website.

    For a company that seems to pride itself on its "all-natural goodness" and worships at the alter of Authenticity, the Jamba Juice crowd spews some of the most artificial Marketing-ese anywhere.

    It's all about the customer experience.  As they put it, "Our customers have always inspired our quest for the perfect product and experience."

    You see, it's more than a job for these people.  They are on a quest.  I fully expect to see the "Don Quixote Impossibly Raspberry Dream" added to the menu any day.

    The minute you hear the words "quest" and "experience",  you can be sure it will be just a matter of time before someone introduces the "P word"…passion.

    Yep, here it comes: "We're downright passionate about improving even the little things."

    And how do they harness that passion to deliver the perfect experience?  Simple.
    Remember that mildly hostile teenager who took my order?  Well, he's not an employee.   He's a "team member".  On the Jamba Juice website, potential new hires are encouraged to "be part of a fresh, fun team that hands out tons of healthy energy…and a smile with every smoothie."  Or maybe you aspire to something bigger?  Like Shift Manager?  In that case, you can be responsible for "execution of brand excellence" (wow, and I thought you just had to be sure there were enough hairnets to go around).

    The form letter from the franchise owner that's posted on the bulletin board in my neighborhood Jamba Juice says it all.  This letter masterfully blends every bullshit expression into three, deliciously cliche-ridden paragraphs. 

    It starts, naturally, with "passion" and "commitment": "we are very passionate about ensuring you have a great, consisistent experience each time you visit us.  We are committed to helping new customers through their first Jamba Juice experience." (Who knew you needed that much help ordering a smoothie?).

    Then, they mix in a few "intentions":  "The expectatations and intentions we have for ourselves are high."

    And, we get those all-important "team members" who are, of course, "empowered to make things right for you."

    Next, they add a dollop of New-Agey positive energy:  "We intend for our store to have positive energy, through people, sights, sounds and smells." (A team member really needs to check out the positive energy in the rest room).

    The letter closes with the kind of self-important nonsense that could only come from a company that regards mixing fresh fruit, vitamin powder and yogurt in a blender as a higher calling: "If we have made a difference in your life, please let us know."

    I'll admit, a good smoothie has occasionally  made a difference in my day.  But I've never known one to be exactly life-changing.

    But that doesn't matter -  it's all about talking the talk. 

    It's the same way my bank started referring to us as  "guests" instead of "customers".  No point getting all worked up because you're stuck waiting in a long line for a teller.  Customers get mad.  "Guests" get treated royally – and are grateful for it.  Thank you, Citibank!  It's just so darned considerate of you…so civilized.      I can't wait to get invited over to my branch again so I can wait in line some more and maybe steal one of those cute guest soaps.

    Sure, great service would be nice.  But if you can't deliver the real thing, don't worry.  Just serve up some feel-good jargon and deliver it with a phony smile.  After all, it's the thought that counts.

  • I know, I know…I haven't posted in a while.  I will spare you my feeble excuses.
    I wouldn't normally try to cheat by recycling old posts.  But I am proud to say that the piece I wrote way back in April, "Cougars Bite", criticizing the whole "Cougar" phenomenon, was frankly ahead of its time.  And it's now more relevant than ever.

    The
    bad news is, since I wrote that blog, the Cougar trend has only
    grown.         There are more Cougar-themed shows and movies than ever.  ABC's
    "Cougar Town",
    starring Courteney Cox, premiered this week.  I tried to watch it – I've gotta keep up on this Cougar stuff – but it was so excruciatingly horrible, I could hardly sit through even fifteen minutes (poor Courteney…one minute,
    you're a cute, young "Friend", and the next thing you know, you're a
    nasty, old Cougar).

    What is it about this "Cougar" thing that has caused it to catch on with such a vengeance?  This insidious label has clawed its way into the vernacular and taken hold – and I fear it may be here to stay. 

    The good news is, I'm suddenly hearing more and more anti-Cougar sentiment being expressed by women.

    This month's issue of MORE magazine features an article by Candace Bushnell titled "Attack of the Cougars".  In it, she expresses a lot of the same sentiments        I have (except she's rich and famous and gets published in MORE magazine).

    In addition, I just came across a piece called  "Don't Call Me a Cougar" posted on
    Open Salon.  The outpouring of comments that followed this blog would seem to indicate there is a growing attitude among women that we're mad as hell
    about this ugly, sexist label and we're not gonna take it anymore.

    I sure hope that's true.  Because this whole Cougar thing is getting really old.

       

  • Images-3 I love writing about bad tv commercials.  It's lots of fun – and there is certainly never any shortage of material.

    But let's  face it, with so many crappy spots polluting the airwaves, critiquing them is a bit like shooting fish in a  barrel – it's good for a few, cheap laughs, but it's not exactly a challenge.

    Good commercials are a lot harder to come by.  And a lot harder to create and sell.  So once in a while, I like to give credit where credit is due and applaud a campaign that got it right.

    Which brings me to the Progressive car insurance spots. You know, the ones with the quirky, brunette spokeswoman, "Flo" (apparently, her name is "Flo", although this fact had somehow escaped me).

    The main reason I'm giving this campaign high marks is because it could have gone so horribly wrong. The "Ongoing Spokesperson/Character" is a classic, tried-and-true advertising technique that's been around forever.  When it's done really well, this genre can be extremely effective and memorable (think "Jack" from Jack in the Box or the Geico Gecko).  But most of the time, it's just utterly annoying and obnoxious.

    This is one of the hardest types of campaigns to pull off, because so much hinges on the appeal of the spokesperson.  The casting in the Progressive spots is brilliant; "Flo" is played to quirky perfection by Stephanie Courtney, a Groundlings improv actress with heaps of oddball charm and impeccable comic timing. 
    I can't help wondering what would have happened if she didn't show up for the casting session that day.  Was there anyone else who could have played this character and made her palatable?  And if there wasn't, would the campaign have been scrapped?  Would they have gone ahead and produced the spots anyway?  Perhaps the scripts were even written with this actress in mind – I'd love to know. 

    Let's just say it was a gamble (another gamble was deciding to give Flo a campy, retro look that screams "Look at me – I'm just so quirky!".  There's absolutely no rhyme or reason for this choice, but it somehow works).

    Then there's the writing.  I enjoy watching these spots because they're written with a deft, light touch. The dialogue is always fresh, the humor is never forced, and the scenarios play out in a somewhat unpredictable way.  I don't know if Stephanie is responsible for any of this – perhaps she improvised some of the lines? -  but whomever is writing these scripts deserves a lot of credit.  I don't even own a car, and I always pay attention.  On the other hand, I'm not sure these scripts ever looked so great on paper…they rely so much on the performance.

    The other reason these spots are effective is because they don't take themselves too seriously and they don't make any attempt at realism.  The setting is a totally make-believe, highly stylized world with a simple white, seamless backdrop and minimal propping.  Can you imagine how painful it would be if they'd played it as a real Progressive office and pretended "Flo" was an actual employee?  Yikes.

    It's not that these are really great commercials.  They are fairly traditional. 
    I'm sure this campaign won't win any industry awards.  It's not "edgy" enough
    and there are no gratuitous special effects.  But that's exactly why I like it; the advertisers manage to serve up a lot of dry information in a simple, clear and entertaining way.  Hey, in my book, any TV spot that I don't automatically mute
    is a winner.

    Whether you love or hate the Progressive commercials, the campaign must be working, because they keep airing new spots.  A cursory Google search reveals that Stephanie Courtney is garnering tons of attention and fans.  She must be raking in the residual checks.  I'm sure she'll have her own sitcom soon (I'll bet they're working on a pilot as we speak).

    In spite of all these kudos, I don't think this is a campaign that can go on forever.  Even this character's schtick begins to get old after a while.  A little quirky goes
    a long way.  The spots air so often, they're already beginning to wear out. 
    Viewers will soon tire of Flo and her antics and demand something new.
    And the poor Creative team that created her will be back to the drawing board (don't be surprised if Flo gets a sidekick).

    But for the moment, I'm just relieved that I don't have to reach for the mute button every time these spots come on.  I guess I'm just grateful for small miracles.

     

  • I know I've been picking on "Dr. Nancy" a lot lately. When it comes to providing blog material, this show is the gift that keeps on giving.  Although the syndrome that I'm about to describe is hardly unique to "Dr. Nancy" and MSNBC; it's a familiar ailment, common to almost every cable news show.

    The other morning, I was watching as Dr. Nancy presided over a very interesting and important debate about whether illegal immigrants would be covered under the proposed health reform plan.  The debate – between two credible experts – was just getting going and I was glued to every word.  We were finally getting some intelligent answers about this controversial subject!  I was about to give
    "Dr. Nancy" high marks for tackling this thorny subject and trying to clarify the matter once and for all.

    Uh, not so fast.

    Suddenly, Dr. Nancy broke in.  "Sorry," she said, "I really hate to do this, but we have to interrupt for some very important breaking news."

    I prepared myself for the worst.  Had a new terrorist plot been uncovered?  Did a hurricane wipe out the Eastern coast of Florida?  Perhaps there'd been a sudden upswing in Swine Flu cases?

    Not exactly.

    At that moment, the cameras cut away to a live picture of several limousines, far off in the distance, pulling up to an unidentified building.  The cameras were so far away, one could only make out a few small, blurry figures slowly getting out of the vehicles.  No one was even remotely recognizable.

    The "very important breaking news"?  Apparently, members of the Kennedy family had begun arriving at the service for Eunice Shriver. 

    That's all…they were arriving.  That was it.

    The cameras lingered awkwardly for several minutes.  They were trained on the scene, but there wasn't anything to see.  

    There really wasn't anything to say, either.  The commentator struggled to fill in a few details about what we were observing.  "This is a big family…and they're very close.  I, um, don't think Ted Kennedy will be attending today's service…but I'm not really sure about that…"

    It was bad enough that we were intruding on a private, family moment.  But it wasn't even a moment.  It was just a bunch of parked cars that were mostly – and perhaps intentionally – obscured by dense foliage.  Yet this disconcertingly nebulous, non-event was somehow deemed important enough to break away from a legitimate, lively debate about health care.  Did they figure it was worth cutting away on the chance that we might catch a glimpse of Maria and Arnold emerging from one of the limos?  Or maybe we'd see one of the Kennedy clan?  Was that the gamble?

    Sorry, but that's not news.  It's voyeurism.  And in this case, it wasn't even effective voyeurism or good tv; it was just an awkward moment in search of a story.  If I want to see somber members of the Kennedy family arriving for the Shriver memorial, I can just open up this week's issue of People magazine.  I'm sure they're already planning a big photo spread…immediately following a story about how the Olsen Twins have triumphed over anorexia.

    Who makes these decisions?  I certainly don't blame Dr. Nancy.  Her producers decide when to break away for important, breaking news.  The trouble is that lately, just about everything rates as "breaking news" ("We interrupt our regular scheduled program to bring you this important news story:  the sun came up this morning!").

    In the Media's never-ending quest to fill every second with something that will titillate, boost ratings and feed our insatiable appetite for the sensational, they've lost the ability to distinguish between real news and everything else.  Just because they super "Breaking News" in huge, italicized, capital
    letters across the bottom third of the screen and add some dramatic, whoosh-y
    sound effects, doesn't mean it's news.  And like that boy who cried wolf one too many times, if they keep whipping us into a frenzy, only to announce nothing, pretty soon we're going to stop paying any attention at all. 

    Which brings me to this very important alert for all you cable news producers:
    it's time for a lot less hyperbole and a lot more selectivity.  

    If you're going to call it "breaking news", it had better be newsworthy.

  • Q:  What do the following headlines have in common?

    600 Missing After Taiwan Typhoon

    Kim Kardashian Goes Blonde

    U.S. Targets Afghan Drug Lords

    Kate Gosselin Breaks Down

    Iraq Suffers Bloodiest Day Since U.S. Pullout

    Miley Cyrus Busts Out a Pole Dance for Teen Awards

    A:  These were all "Top Stories" on my Comcast home page this week.  And thus, they were all given equal weight and importance. 

    On any given day, you can find an equally ludicrous blending of the truly significant and the utterly vapid.

    And if that alone doesn't prove that our so-called culture is going to hell in a handbasket, then I'll buy you a new handbasket.

    Of course, Comcast pretends to divide the stories into separate "News" and "Entertainment" categories.  It's a nice try  — but whom do they think they are they kidding?  We all know there is no distinction; the serious and the shallow are now all lumped together into one stinking, simmering morass of news-like substance, spewed out 24/7.

    The Internet – and many TV networks – can barely be bothered serving up "real" news stories anymore.  They know Americans are hungry for garbage.  We need our daily, minimum requirement of endlessly regurgitated celebrity bullshit.       Our appetite for trash is seemingly insatiable — the beast must be fed.  And by golly, The Media isn't going to let us go hungry.

    I realize that celebrity gossip has long been a part of the American scene.  But in the early days of Hollywood, there was a clear line between what made it to the front page of a respectable newspaper and what was on the cover of Photoplay.  True, an occasional event — like the Fatty Arbuckle murder scandal of 1921 — might rate as a national news story.  And Rudolph Valentino's untimely death at the age of 31 caused mass hysteria and was a major, international news story.

    But I don't think you would have ever seen a story about W.C. Fields' drinking problem splashed across the front page for weeks.  Or that one of FDR's
    Fireside Chats would be interrupted for an urgent, breaking news story about Loretta Young and Clark Gable's secret love child.

    What the hell happened? 

    It's easy to blame The Media — and they deserve plenty of blame for their sleazy, shameless opportunism. They make an absolute fortune sinking to the lowest common denominator.  This is America the Shallow – and shallow sells. If it didn't, all of this crap would disappear faster than Tori Spelling's baby weight.

    By now, you're probably thinking I have a keen grasp of the obvious.  What?  America's become a tabloid news-obsessed nation?  We're even more superficial than the suntans on The Real Housewives of New Jersey?  Geez. Tell me something I don't know.

    But I guess what also disturbs me about the headlines on my web browser page — or the so-called "news crawl" across the bottom of the CNN screen — is that
    there's something else going on, as well: cross-promotion.  Nothing is ever what
    it seems.  All of those incessant headlines about Jon and Kate are really just ads to help fill the coffers of the TLC franchise and sell more copies of Us.  That's what it's really all about: marketing.  That's what it's always about.  Which is
    nothing new.  Except that now, the Internet and the 24/7 cable news cycle have made all that blatant marketing even more ubiquitous, insidious and obnoxious. 

    And as long as we've blurred the line between marketing and legitimate news, there's not a chance in hell of stopping the madness.

  • Recently, I wrote about  Dr. Nancy Snyderman's new morning show on MSNBC, Dr. Nancy.  At that time, I found the mere name of show nauseating. 

    Well, I've gotten over that relatively minor problem.  If Dr. Snyderman wants to call herself  "Dr. Nancy", so be it.  I can live with that.

    What's harder to swallow is the way this show purports to be about medical issues, when in fact, Dr. Nancy talks about pretty much anything under the sun — including the most sensational, tabloid stories — all under the guise of  "health". 
    The doctor may be in — but she's definitely off topic.

    Now that I've caught on to this, it's been fun watching how Dr. Nancy manages to twist virtually anything into a "health" story. 

    This week, for example, Dr. Nancy looked into the camera with her most serious expression.  "And next",  she teased, "we have a very important story that simply must be discussed."  I braced myself for the latest, scary  statistics on swine flu.     Or maybe TB rates were on the rise?   But no.  Instead, the good doctor launched into a very important story about… how Rhianna and Chris Brown were back together again. Oh, but you see, it wasn't really about them.  After all, this is
    Dr. Nancy
    , not Entertainment Tonite.  So the Rhianna/Chris Brown story  was framed as a very important piece about…the long-term psychological effects suffered by abused women.  Seriously.  It's enough to make you heave.

    Not surprisingly, Dr. Nancy devotes a large portion of every show to the most important medical story in America:  Michael Jackson.  It's one thing when she discusses the prescription drug controversy surrounding Jackson's death — she gets away with it because it comes under the "medical" heading.  But then she seamlessly (and shamelessly) segues into every other Jacko-related tidbit; from who will get custody of the kids to Jackson's financial troubles.

    At first, I thought the celebrity stories were simply acting as teasers for the health-related stories (after all, a spoonful of trashiness makes even the driest medical topic go down).  But now, I think it's the other way around;  the celebrity gossip is the story.  Dr. Nancy tries to give the trashy segments an air of respectability by creating earnest-sounding, if somewhat tenuous, links to serious medical topics.  The show is hosted by a physician — but that's almost irrelevant.  You might as well put a lab coat on Ryan Seacrest and give him this gig.

    It's too bad.  I actually enjoy hearing Dr. Snyderman's perspective on  health care reform and her advice about legitimate medical concerns.  But I guess the producers — and the network — want to make sure we get our daily dose of sleazy, tabloid trash (as if we could possibly avoid it).  So they keep force-feeding us this pablum, through a steady, round-the-clock drip.   And instead of getting an hour of useful medical information, we get something closer to Access Hollywood meets Marcus Welby, M.D. 

    In the end, Dr. Nancy is just the latest "entertainment" show parading as a "news" show.  The line between the two is beyond blurry — it's practically non-existent. 
    The same as virtually everything else in our hopelessly vapid, tabloid-obsessed, utterly ridiculous culture.

    And as long as these shows continue to get ratings, there's no cure in sight.

  • It's only been a little over a year since the infamous Eliot Spitzer prostitution scandal.  After the former NewYork Governor resigned in disgrace, he disappeared completely from public view. 

    What do you suppose he was doing during this time of shame and repentance?  Wrestling with his demons?  Going to marriage counseling?  Getting treatment
    for sex addiction?  Finding God?   Reallocating his 401K?   Trying to wangle an invite to "C Street"?

    Perhaps.  But clearly, was he was also busy strategizing with his PR consultant.  Indeed, it appears the man who will forever be known for a certain, um, act, is ready for his Second Act. 

    Yesterday morning, I turned on MSNBC and nearly choked on my Cheerios; there was Eliot Spitzer, of all people, co-hosting the program with Carlos Watson.     
    The former Governor stood there, cheerfully fielding questions on a multitude of topics, from health care to the Sotomayor hearings.    

    I know Americans have  short attention spans.  But are we really expected to look at Eliot Spitzer and think of him as just another political pundit?

    Apparently, yes.  The Rehabilitation and Resurrection of Eliot Spitzer has officially begun.  I'm not sure what the ultimate goal is; will he run for office again?  Host his own TV show?  Who knows.  But he's baaack.

    Yesterday's show was not without its delightfully awkward moments.  At one point, the conversation veered to a lighthearted discussion of how Obama is setting a new kind of example for African-American men, especially in regard to marriage and family life.  While MSNBC pop culture analyst, Toure, gushed about how Barack took Michelle out for a glamorous "date night" in Manhattan – and, ha ha, didn't that set the bar higher for all us regular, married guys? – the former Governor silently squirmed, with a nervous smile plastered across his face and a bit too much shine on his broad, well-pancaked forehead.

    I'll bet you anything he's planning a "date night" with the missus right now.

  • Peruse the bestseller shelf in any airport bookstore and you'll notice a trend. 
    I call it Monosyllabic Title Syndrome. 

    I think the trend may have started with Malcolm Gladwell's second book, Blink. Right after that one hit the shelves – and sold like hotcakes – everyone wanted in on the act.  So now, our nation's bookstore shelves are crammed with punchy, single syllable titles like Sway, Free, Dread and Rigged. 

    Cute and catchy as these cryptic titles may be, they do require some 'splainin'.  Quite a bit of it, in fact.  So every monosyllabic title is immediately followed by a really long, convoluted subtitle.  To wit:

    Blink:  The Power of Thinking Without Thinking
    Sway:  The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior
    Free:  The Future of a Radical Price
    (huh?)
    Dread:  How Fear and Fantasy Have Fueled Epidemics from the Black Death to the Avian Flu

    Rigged:  The True Story of an Ivy League Kid Who Changed the World of Oil, from Wall Street to Dubai

    The latest book by political pundit Dick Morris features the Mother of All Subheads:
    Fleeced: How Barack Obama, Media Mockery of Terrorist Threats, Liberals Who Want to Kill Talk Radio, the Self-Serving Congress, Companies That Help Iran and Washington Lobbyists for Foreign Governments are Scamming Us…And What to Do About It.

    (Personally, I would have titled this Sleaze: How an Opportunistic, Toe-Sucking Political Hack Shamelessly Exploited America's Socialist Fears and Tried to Destroy the Obama Administration Before They'd Even Been in Office for Barely Five Minutes with Two Hastily Published Propagandist Books Sporting Ridiculously Long Titles).

    Somewhere along the line, it seems publishers decided that the secret to a best-selling book was a one word – and preferably one syllable – title.  After all, Americans are lazy, not terribly literate and pressed for time.  We like our literature lite and our titles bite-sized.  Why tax our pea brains with all those pesky, extra syllables?

    A short, catchy title can turn virtually any subject matter into an irresistible read.  The next time I'm in Border's, I fully expect to see:

    Fridge:  How Coolants and Condensers Transformed Food Preservation in        America

    Steep: The Future of Tea in a Coffee-Addicted Society

    Frizz:  How Bad Hair Products Have Failed American Women

    Mute:  Why the Remote Control Matters More Than Ever in an Increasingly Loud, Obnoxious World

    Grate: The Irresistible Lure of Parmesan Cheese

    Drill:  The Shocking, Untold Story of Dentistry

    Of course, the monosyllabic trend is not limited to books.  TV producers have also jumped on the bandwagon, giving us Weeds, Lost, Monk, Scrubs, Bones, Wrecked, Stoked and HBO's latest, Hung. 
    The formula for success appears to be:  Quirky Character + Edgy, Slightly Outrageous Subject Matter + One Syllable Title = Mega Hit.

    By today's rules, Jane Austen would have written Pride minus the Prejudice.  There would be no Catcher in the Rye... only Rye.  Tolstoy's publisher would have made him choose between either War OR Peace ("Leo, baby, trust me on this…it sounds edgy…it's fresh…and it will climb to the top of  Amazon's Bestseller List in a week…").  And I hate to even think what would have happened to Moby Dick.

    Syllables.  They're just like, so Twentieth Century.

  • Images

    There's a scary new epidemic sweeping across America.             I call it "Dr. Phil Syndrome".  This mysterious malady occurs when doctors who become tv personalities are referred to by only their first names.  And I'm afraid it's spreading.

    This week, MSNBC launched a new show featuring Dr. Nancy Snyderman.          Dr. Snyderman will interview guests on a host of issues, from national health care to cookie dough recalls. 

     I've always kind of liked Dr. Snyderman.  She's a surgeon who used to practice here in San Francisco before she made it big as an author and broadcaster.     She's now NBC's Chief Medical Editor.  Dr. Snyderman is straightforward and only mildly condescending when explaining complicated medical stuff to the   Great Unwashed.  She seems very knowledgable.  I like listening to her impart sensible medical information while she looks into the camera with her sparkly, blue-eyed gaze (I wish she'd tell us the name of her plastic surgeon…she's had some amazing work done).

    I don't know if Dr. Snyderman has what it takes to carry her own show.  But I do know that the name of the show is enough to make me sick.  It's called…
    "Dr. Nancy".   

    Dr. Snyderman has been a regular guest on "The Today Show" for years. I cringed whenever I heard the hosts of that show referring to her simply as "Dr. Nancy".  But I figured it was just a harmless nickname.  How wrong I was.  

    Seriously, what is it with these first-name-only doctors?  Have TV producers decided that we Americans are too lazy – or too lame – to refer to medical doctors by their first and last names?  Is it a calculated effort to make the docs seem friendlier, less intimidating, more accessible?  Is it simply a matter of creating cute, catchy names that they hope the audience will remember?  Or does MSNBC think we viewers are a bunch of 5 year olds?  My goodness, even "Mr. Rogers" had a last name. He wasn't "Mr. Fred".

    Of course, we've also had "Nurse Betty", and now, "Nurse Jackie".  But those titles refer to fictional characters.  And I get the feeling that some real life nurses are advocating the first-name thing. Recently, I had an ER nurse who introduced herself to me as "Nurse Patty" and even had that written on her name  tag.  I found it rather  comforting and endearing (if you happen to be a nurse who despises this trend or finds it disrespectful, let me know).

    But I like my doctors to have last names.  It adds a touch of gravitas that is always so welcome in a physician.  You don't, after all, want to show up for brain surgery with a Neurosurgeon known as "Doctor Mikey".

    I guess MSNBC isn't after gravitas; they're after ratings. Otherswise, they could have called the show "Health Matters with Dr. Nancy Snyderman" or something semi-respectable.  But instead, we have "Dr. Nancy".   Gee, if I sit still through the next show, do you think she'll give me a lollipop?

     

  • Images-8 I have a confession to make:  I subscribe to "O", the Oprah Magazine.  I'm not proud of this fact. The truth is, I'm so ashamed, I wish the magazine was shipped in a plain brown wrapper. But there it is, arriving in my mailbox every month, with Oprah's airbrushed visage smiling out at me. Her satisfied expression seems to say, "Thanks to suckers like YOU, I'm the richest woman in the whole goddam universe!" (Incidentally, I'd like the magazine a lot more if Oprah wasn't featured on every single cover.  But I suspect she'd sooner miss a meal than miss a photo op).

    Believe me , I've tried to quit "O".  Whenever my subscription expires, I tell myself, "This is it…you don't have to renew…you don't need to send Oprah another $28."   But then I give in once again, seduced by those glossy pages filled with the promise of a better, more satisfying, more rewarding life.  It seems I can't get by without the benefit of Oprah's all-knowing guidance and innate wisdom regarding everything from relationships to where to find the best lip gloss.

    This month, "O" is full of advice on how to economize.   Oprah understands we're in the midst of a nasty Recession.  She knows we're hurting.  And being Oprah, she feels our pain.  So she's there for us, offering up "45 Affordable Pleasures" and a myriad of savvy, penny-pinching tips.  These money-saving suggestions range from bringing your toner cartridge back to Staples for a $3 store coupon to joining the Spirit Airlines' $9 fare club.  And in her "What I Know For Sure" column, Oprah waxes poetic on the simple pleasures of relaxing in her backyard with her 3 dogs, while she savors a "yummy" Popsicle.  I guess it's a lot easier to appreciate the Simple Things in Life when you have a shit load of money.

    But we should at least give Oprah the benefit of the doubt.  After all, isn't she all about Authenticity? When it comes to economizing, I'm sure she walks the walk.   I can just see her turning to Stedman and saying, "Honey, let's not forget to bring our toner cartridge to Staples – we can get a $3 coupon!"  Afterwards, she probably calls her best friend, Gayle, to inform her that if she just returns six empty containers of MAC products to the store, she could receive a free lipstick of her choice.

    I don't know about you, but I have a hard time accepting money-saving tips from a woman with a net worth of over $1 billion.  I know, Oprah came from humble beginnings.  But it's been a long time since she shopped at T.J. Maxx or had her dinner parties catered by Sizzler.  Asking Oprah for tips on saving money is like asking Elliot Sptitzer for advice on marriage.

    Of course, these days, Oprah isn't the only wealthy celebrity offering tips on thrift.  On any given morning, you'll find Today Show co-hosts Matt Lauer and Meredith Vieira wearing their faux concerned expressions as they advise ordinary Americans on how to save on everything from their cell phone bills to groceries.  Then they leave the studios at 30 Rock, climb into their chauffered limousines and head to their abodes on the Upper East Side.  Matt Lauer's reported annual salary is a cool $13 million. I don't think he's that worried about how to stretch a tuna casserole for a week.

    Here's what I know for sure:  The economy sucks.  We need help.  But what we don't need are any more of the Ridiculously Rich and Famous and their phony empathy.  Which is why when Oprah gushes about Simple Pleasures and her oh-so-clever money-saving tricks, I say save us from the hypocrisy.  And wonder why I wasted another 28 bucks.