The mystery of Karl's voice

So there's this new commercial for Febreze that has been on TV lately. As one would expect, it's pretty bad: Mom comes into son's room, tells him it stinks, then "cleans" everything by spraying it with Febreze. Anyway, there's a lot to make fun of in this ad (for example, the fact that Karl, the son, is reallllllly into soccer balls), but the one thing that gets me it is that Karl apparently has been completely overdubbed.

Here's the ad:

Now, tell me if I'm wrong on this, but Karl is the only one overdubbed, right? It isn't like that super cheapo Cheerios commercial that was obviously originally from the UK that was dubbed and shoved on US television a year or so ago, is it?

(For those who have a life and don't know what I'm referring to, here's the Cheerios ad:)

This just makes me wonder about our smelly teenager. What happened to his voice? Did he have some horrible accent? Did puberty hit? Was the director pinned down to the edit booth by a crazed male who insisted on having his voice say such clever lines as "Are you kidding?" and "Woah!"

Or maybe our friend Karl lost his voice from all the screams of joy that surged through his body when he found out that he, not the other stoner-looking teenaged actors, was going to have to opportunity to use his talents to sell an odor masking agent to the masses.

Yeah, that's probably it. I know I'd be like that.

Awesome local commercial makes no sense!

I love their ads, and they usually make me laugh (though possibly not in the way they're intended), but sometimes the spots for Dressler and Strickland seem as if they were conceived by someone on crack (or a twelve-year-old). I really wanted to share with you their ad which shows a bunch of cartoon animals driving around in order to offer up the line, "It's a jungle out there," but I couldn't seem to track it down. Nevertheless, for your viewing pleasure, I did find the fine example above.

There are lots of questions I'm left asking after watching this ad. First, why is the woman who has just broken her arm smiling and waving at the driver in the smashed vehicle? Why isn't she and her attorney trying to help him out of the twisted wreckage? And where did "cartoon lawyer" get his suit? That jacket he has buttons all the way up to his neck? That must be very uncomfortable. Then later, why is the jury throwing their own money at Dressler? Is he a hypnotist in addition to a lawyer, or did he just give such a moving closing argument that the pool felt the need to compensate him? And why does the non-cartoon version of Dressler (aka, the actual human being) have such a small gavel? You'd think, for show even, he'd have one of those big, monster sledgehammer deals.

On dinosaur feet and the death of a Liberal Lion ...

This week, when I wasn't busy copying other bloggers' posts without any acknowledgment, much like my heroes over at the Hartford Courant, I was visiting the Dinosaur State Park with my nephew and niece and mourning the death of Mr. Ted Kennedy.

Let's start with the dinosaurs.

I had no idea what was at Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill. Seeing the signs on 91, I always assumed it to be a hokey place with fake dinosaur statues and mini golf or something. But the Professor's parents were bringing the little ones down for a visit, and, me having a day off and the Prof still on summer break, we decided to tag along.

I have to say, the place is kind of cool. For those who have no idea of what I'm referring, let me give you a bit of history. Back in 1966, 2,000 dinosaur tracks were found while the foundation for a new state building was being dug in Rocky Hill. Completely by accident. Can you imagine being the person who found these things? Needless to say, the building was scrapped and a park was born. 500 of the tracks remained unearthed and a giant dome structure was built over them, creating a museum for dinosaur fans to visit.

And do they visit. While we were there, busloads of kids were coming and going, along with some awkward teenagers that, I can only hope, were more into the "science" of these fossils than the "wow, dinosaurs!" awe that seemed to enrapt the park's tinier explorers.

Here's a poorly lit photo from inside the dome:

The kids had a blast, and the adults had fun, too. Of course, there was this one egotistical dinosaur we ran into on our way out of the park. He gave us some trouble, but we managed to get away. I even snapped a picture while we escaped:

Lousy, no good hipster brontosaurus ...

Anyway, that was the Dinosaur State Park.

Now onto Mr. Kennedy.

The passing of the Liberal Lion left me with a strong feeling of disconnect toward my home state of Massachusetts. His death reminded me that I'm not there anymore, a fact that is plain to see but which I still occasionally forget. I'm now at arm's length from my former city, outside, looking in, both for better and worse. Many friends went to the processionals, saw the motorcade, posted pictures on Facebook (which, I must admit, was kind of odd). But seeing so many people I know actively participating in such moments, being part of the funeral, the physical mourning, made the 90 minutes that separates me from my former home in Boston seem all the more great.

I suppose the strangest thing about Ted Kennedy's passing is the fact that there won't be any more new television footage of the man. For the 31 years I have been on this planet (and, until last August, having lived all of those years in Massachusetts), Kennedy's face has been a nearly nightly image, as common as the newscasters who he was speaking to or the townspeople seen at the gas station. I can't say I found the man to be perfect, but such thoughts really don't matter anymore. It was the comfort of seeing him that made him who he was. It was the fire that raged in his eyes on some days. The doughy smile on others. It was the fact that he was a constant. That is what I'll miss the most. Such a familiar image, lost into the ether.

When we are the news, what is the news?

Back in February, I wrote about our (read: the general public's) seeming obsession with leaving comments on online news stories, as if our opinions were as, if not more, important than the stories themselves. I wondered why this was, and, frankly, what the point of allowing such activity brought to the legitimate act of news distribution. Well, thanks to the good folks at NBC 30, there is now a new level of public involvement in what used to be a purely objective way to relate important information.

You see, over at nbcconnecticut.com (the online outlet of channel 30), you can now rate the news stories.

I wish I was kidding.

Here's an example. A young person recently drowned in the Housatonic River. Quite a sad story. One, you would think, the average reader would see and say something like, "How horrible." You would think said reader would then refrain from clicking the small box to the right of said article, the box that says "I am: ." You'd think a tragedy would invoke a certain sense of respect.

Of course, you'd be wrong.

Here are the "ratings" for the article:

The website does not list the total number of votes, but the fact that anyone bothered to think that their emotional input was necessary after reading of a young person's death makes you stop to wonder, no? (I'm curious if the "laughing" and "bored" votes were nothing more than children deciding to be ironic.)

Honestly, what is the point of this? Are we so pathetically attention-starved that we need to be involved in everything we touch? Is that the reason for such inventions?

And what about the long-term effect of such immediate interaction? How could this affect what we consider "news?" If NBC 30's audience decides that politics or world news is boring, will the station decide to make such information obsolete? Will the news become nothing more than fluff a la E! News or Entertainment Tonight? Will celebrity birthdays overtake a recap of the stock market? Are Lolcats going to suddenly show up?

Sure, this may be taking things to an extreme, but one has to assume that these small changes will somehow play into future models of news.

Our world is constantly evolving. How do I feel about it? Sometimes I'm "thrilled," but things like this just make me "sad." Feel free to click on the sidebar to tell me your opinion. Wait, I don't have such technology.

Old Gloria

I was six years old (almost seven) when Hurricane Gloria hit New England back in September of 1985. I remember what you'd expect a little kid to remember: the noise, being scared, seeing trees cut in half, not really understanding exactly what was going on when the eye of the storm hit and everything was calm; that sort of thing. 

Our power in Massachusetts was knocked out for about two or three days. It was fun at first, then the reality of the situation took hold. My mom grew angry because the food in the freezer went bad. My dad became frustrated and convinced that the electric company ignored small towns like the one where we lived. And I was panicked because of a television show. You see, the series premiere of Steven Spielberg's Amazing Stories was to air that Sunday. And Gloria was going to make me miss it.

Amazing Stories wasn't just any show to me. It was the show, a program my father and I were waiting to watch with baited breath since we had heard of its creation earlier that summer (Needless to say, Indiana Jones and E.T. were rather big in my household).

But big, stupid Gloria had to come and spoil the party.

I remember that Sunday evening almost more than the storm itself. Evening was beginning to roll into town. Still no power. My dad had all but given up hope. We figured, "Hey, they'll rerun the episode sometime around the holidays. We'll catch it." But we were disappointed. Stupid Gloria, I remember thinking. Ruined everything.

And then, right before the program was to start (I can't remember if it was a 7 or 8 o'clock show), boom, the lights flickered on. We were dumbstruck, like we had never experienced electricity in our lives prior to that moment. My father and I scrambled to the television and flipped it on. We turned the rotor box to adjust our antenna. It clicked into place. And there it was. Amazing Stories. The power came back just in time.

It was a miracle! It was an amazing story!

For about five minutes.

The power went back out after the opening credits. The story wasn't so amazing, after all.

We did eventually get power back that night. Of course, by then Amazing Stories was over and I was headed off to bed.

Now, you're probably wondering why I'm writing about this. Well, there's two reasons. First, this Sunday is Father's Day, and thinking back on this story reminds me of some of the fun times I've had with my father over the years. And two, I came across this funny (mostly because of its age) compilation of Connecticut news broadcasts during the peak of Gloria's wrath.

So, to all the fathers out there, enjoy your Sunday. And for all the storm enthusiasts, here's a video for you to watch: 

 

The new(ish) Silas Deane Pawn ad

A while back, I wrote about Connecticut's amazing amount of pawn shops and the massive amount of advertising each business does in an attempt to separate themselves from their competition. Well, one of these shops, Silas Deane Pawn, has a (somewhat) new commercial that I saw for the first time on television the other night. According to their YouTube post, this has been around since December, but since it's new to me, I figured I'd pass it along:

Now, did these guys already have these costumes or were they pawned by Macho Man Randy Savage and Hulk Hogan (he is going through a messy divorce and could probably use the extra cash)?

One thing I did observe ... the H2oly Cow

Last night, after completely wiring all of the electronics back together in the entertainment center, I saw a television ad for the strangest product called the H2oly Cow. It's a sprinkler system for your yard that's shaped like a cow. According to the ad, it makes watering your yard "fun." I wish I could find the commercial somewhere to embed. It's pretty bizarre.

Here's a picture:

The website for the product has a short video clip you can watch, but it doesn't include the funniest part of the television commercial, which involves children playing around the Cow like it's some sort of really cool toy. Meanwhile, they're just getting pelted by water. But what got me is the fact that the end of the hose is flailing around throughout all of this, sending the metal end at high speeds near their heads and arms and legs. I just kept thinking, "One of those kids is going to end up in the hospital!" What an awkward conversation that would be in the ER.

Things sought

When I initially set up this blog, I harnessed it with code from Statcounter so that I could keep track of how many visitors stopped by and read my posts. It's pretty great to be able to see page loads, what's popular, that sort of thing.

And one of the coolest things this application allows for me to do is see how someone came across my blog. Sometimes this is from other blogs. Sometimes people are emailed things I've posted (why, I have no idea). But, more often than not, people stumble across my writing from regular old search engine results. Most of the time these are fairly logical. Searches for "Max Burger," for example, brought people to my little post about the new eatery that went up last week. "Slap Chop" searches brought tons of traffic to my rants about Vince Offer and his products-of-the-week (that is, when he isn't busy biting prostitutes in hotel rooms).

But sometimes people arrive at the blog looking for some strange things. I'm sure visitors are always disappointed when their queries for "castle interiors" bring them to my post on my visit to Gillette Castle. And I'm very sure that whoever did a search for "pussy for sale, hartford" (sorry to be crass, but that's what they searched for) wasn't interested in watching the clip from Tim and Eric Awesome Show! that I posted concerning their bit about painting cats (with the juvenile title "Pussy Doodles"). 

And then there are the celebrities that search for themselves (or have Google robots do the searching for them). When I first posted about Criss Angel's former life as hair metal band frontman, I received quite a few hits from the Las Vegas area, as well as Playboy Enterprises (at the time, Mr. Angel was romantically involved with one of the "Girls Next Door"). When I compared 30 Rock actor (who absolutely is amazing in American Splendor) Judah Friedlander to a perp from the TV show Street Patrol, I got a hit directly from Friedlander's personal website. But the best hit came back in September of last year, when someone from Obama For America visited the blog after doing a Google search for "Cindy McCain Cryptkeeper."   

Quick dispatch

These came in from a few friends over the past couple days:

• Dunkin' Donuts has tapped Red Sox second baseman Dustin Pedroia as their new pitchman. Apparently they saw something in his Sullivan Tire exploits. You can read all about it (and see the first ad) over here at boston.com.

• I like 30 Rock. It's a pretty funny show (though this season has been pretty hit-or-miss). But I don't like 30 Rock half as much as this guy:

Maybe it's just me, but I see this guy and I imagine he's kept in some kind of basement dwelling similar to Sloth in The Goonies. 

ShamPow! Slap! Chop!

Regular readers may have noticed I've written a couple posts (here and here) about Vince Offer, the pitchman behind the ShamWOW cloths and the ubiquitous Slap Chop kitchen device. For whatever reason, the guy both annoys me and fascinates me at the same time.

Well, it seems Offer (his real last name is actually Shlomi), has gotten himself into a bit of trouble. Here's a clip from an article that ran on the Smoking Gun a few days ago:

Shlomi, 44, was arrested last month on a felony battery charge following a violent confrontation with a prostitute in his South Beach hotel room. According to an arrest affidavit, Shlomi met Sasha Harris, 26, at a Miami Beach nightclub on February 7 and subsequently retired with her to his $750 room at the lavish Setai hotel . . . Shlomi said that when he kissed Harris, she suddenly "bit his tongue and would not let go." Shlomi then punched Harris several times until she released his tongue.

Wow, what a great guy! Now I really want to buy his crummy products! And he's 44? Dude looks good for 44.

You can read the full article over here at the Smoking Gun's website.

The green mile

I sent a friend over to the other side today.

It was my 13" Orion TV/VCR combo unit that my parents gave me as my high school graduation gift.

Sad day. In a very odd way, it was like losing a friend. I'd had it for 13 years.

The death of the Orion was slow and painful. About two or three years ago, it started to eat videotapes. Then, shortly after moving to Connecticut, it started to hum in a strange way. 

A month or so later, it wouldn't turn on. The hum turned to a scarier, electric buzz. That's when I unplugged it for good.

I spent a day looking online to try to diagnose the problem. I looked at parts to fix it, but the truth is I would have no idea what to do if I did get the right pieces.

So it was time to let the Orion go. And I wasn't about to ditch it in the bottom of a trash barrel.

                   

I strapped it into the passenger seat. Buckled it in for safety. Then I started the drive to Best Buy.

Along the way, we reminisced about the good times. The group that huddled around the television's glow for Super Bowl XXXI, when the Patriots got crushed. The mass amount of movies my budding cinephile mind watched over that tiny tube. The travels it made. Dorms. Apartments. Different states.

No more. Now the Orion was to be eCycled.

As I watched the Geek Squad tech carry the Orion away, I gave it a little salute. It's in a better place now. Maybe the plastic from its shell will become something important.

So long, friend.

Things I wish you could see

Connecticut has some really horribly produced local commercials. Some, like the Fast Eddy and Good Old Tom commercials I posted a couple weeks ago, are goofy fun. But some, by God, are genuinely, and oftentimes unintentionally, hilarious.

The problem is that I can't find them online anywhere, which means I can't share them with you.

This is understandable, I suppose. If I was responsible for making these laughers, I probably wouldn't be posting them on my website, either.

But I so want to have them on this blog!

I suppose I must resort to description.

There are two that stand out. The first is for Assisted Living, Inc., a . . . wait for it . . . assisted living facility here in the state. The spot opens on Mom calling her children downstairs. The kids, typical moppet-types, come halfway down the stairs and Mom says, "We're going to visit Grandma." And the kids, in a way only television commercial children can, respond in unison, "Grandma's house! YAYYYYYYYY!" Oh, it kills me every time they say it. I can just see the director saying, "Now, this time I want you two to hold the 'yay' for four seconds. Really draw it out." 

The commercial then delves into dark and scary territory, as apparently Grandma isn't quite as spry as she used to be and has to be moved out of "Grandma's House." How will Mom explain this to the children?

I know, this description really doesn't do much, but, man, if only you could see it.

The second spot is for Porter and Chester, an occupational training school. It highlights the school's HVAC repair training program and features this guy who talks to the camera as if the viewer is a complete moron. "You like working with your hands?" he asks in the most condescending of all possible ways. He sneers as he tells you how wonderful and rewarding a career in HVAC repair is for him. There's a certain point where you almost wait for him to say "Hey dummy" before continuing on.

Here's an example of a normal Porter and Chester commercial:

Now imagine this commercial done by a surly man who thinks you're an idiot. That's pretty much what I'm talking about

Argh! I wish I could find these to post.

Though, the truth is, all was not lost in my search. While spelunking deep into the heart of YouTube, I did come across this commercial for something called Testa's Sauce. I've never witnessed it on television, but it's pretty entertaining. And, to top it off, it's from right here in Connecticut.

I could watch this guy tell his Nana how much he loves her sauce all day:

Off-season acting classes?

Could it be? Has Dustin Pedroia, MVP of my beloved Boston Red Sox, been taking acting lessons this off-season?

I recently caught his new ad for MLB 2009, and it seems he may have gotten this acting thing down a bit more than he did last year:

In case you've forgotten, here's pre-MVP Pedroia in action:

Much better, yes? 

Rambles while trapped in the snow

We're snowed in here in West Hartford. The Professor's college has closed. My work will be opening late. What better time than now to ramble on about a few things:

Last night, while watching the newest episode of Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels on VH1 (the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, the "I can't look away from this horrible carnage" of guilty pleasures), the Prof and I began to verbally express concern over the carbon footprint Mr. Michaels and his "ladies" are leaving traveling on tour with three large buses (which, at this point, carry only 8 people). Now, my query is this: By questioning the environmental impact left by Bret and the girls, are we, by default, smarter than everyone appearing (combined) on Rock of Love? If so, do we get a prize? Also, bonus points here, does it mean we're thinking too hard about something as stupid and vapid as a program where young women with severe daddy issues throw themselves at a faded, double-their-age rock singer with hair extensions solely to become said faded rock singer's (who, by the by, seems to keep writing songs using the same basic chord progression as his biggest hit) arm candy?

Hey, I just saw someone skiing down the road.

The passing of radio personality Paul Harvey brought back a flood of memories. Sitting in the old Chevy Citation with my Mom. Waiting to pick up my Dad at work. Hearing Harvey crackle over the AM dial (the Citation did not have FM). The rest of the story. Always waiting to hear him say that line. Most of the time I didn't care much for the stories, being as I was 4-years-old. But that voice was like a friend. Mr. Harvey will be missed.

Our upstairs neighbor, the Emperor, did not take kindly to the fact that we called him on his noisy stomping and girlfriend-pleasing. A good natured note left on his door, using words like "please" and "thank you," turned into the Emp calling the Prof "piggish" and stomping off into the night. Of course, since then, he's been quiet as a baby. We'll see where this leads . . .

Happy snow day, New England! 

What's with this sex press you keep telling me about?

Here in Connecticut, I tend to watch WFSB, channel 3, when I'm looking for local news. Yes, the same WFSB that ran an image of a hamster with a film slate instead of that of a suspected murderer on a recent broadcast. I don't know why I gravitated toward them. It just happened.

Anyway, one thing that always makes me laugh in a completely juvenile way when watching channel 3 is their use of a company named Aerials Express when they cut to a satellite map of a region (for whatever reason, they do about four or five times a broadcast). You see, Aerials Express has the unfortunate web address of aerialsexpress.com, which, for the teenagers and childish adults out there, reads as something very different than a satellite map company. Now, this wouldn't be a problem if channel 3 wrote "Image courtesy Aerials Express" when they used one of these maps, but they always use the web address. So every time they cut to a satellite map, I start laughing. 

And then I start to wonder why Aerials Express doesn't change their name to Aerial Express, or why WFSB doesn't just sign a contract with Google Maps? 

The mysteries of life . . .

Last late night

Last night marked the final episode of Late Night With Conan O'Brien. As a fond farewell, I found the clip of one of my favorite moments from the show, the "Clive Clemmons Inappropriate Television Station." I don't know why, but this sketch has stuck with me for over a decade.

I once got to see a live taping of Late Night, and I even got to sit in Conan's personal set of reserved seats, but that's a story for another day.

A matter of opinion

At what point did we and our opinions become the news? I ask this in the wake of a tense police standoff involving a suicidal man that occurred on Interstate 84 yesterday morning. Every local news source was covering the story, and all were posting live updates on their websites. And, at the bottom of every web update, were the long, preachy, and downright mean "reader's comments" that have become all the rage:

He's in my prayers.

Let him pull the trigger!

To those who lack any compassion . . .

Our world has become obsessed with instant, knee-jerk public reaction. We thrive on having the ability to pump our own opinions into news and events as they unroll before our eyes. I suppose the dawn of this came when television news began devoting as much time to slack-jawed neighbor footage ("All I heard was a noise.") as they did to actual crimes and incidents. Add in the internet, and the world, as they say, became the public's oyster. Now places like CNN have "I-Reporters" to do their work for them. Let's hear about that great story from East Nowhere one more time!

But why do we matter when it comes to news? Why should we be allowed to express our opinions so bluntly and anonymously on these news websites? Shouldn't there be some kind of separation here? Isn't that what the opinion page in the newspaper is for? Isn't that what Twitter and obnoxious blogs like the one you're reading right now are for? When did the news decide to hand over the reigns to public opinion? Is this how news outlets think they'll get us to care about our world?

I don't know. Maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion. Maybe we DO want to read the opinions of someone named "SoxFan69" when it comes to a desperate man holding a gun to his head on the highway.

All I know is, I'd better not see anyone call "firsties" on a story so sad.

WFSB makes it on "The Soup"

Local news station WFSB, Hartford's (well, Rocky Hill's) own channel 3, made an appearance on last night's episode of The Soup. Though I couldn't find the actual clip from the show, here's the original WFSB newscast segment that was used:

Having grown up near Warren, MA, the Molly Bish story is truly sad. I'm hoping that there will be closure soon, for the sake of her family. That being said, who was at the switch at channel 3 when this went down? That hamster couldn't have been a legitimate mistake, could it? This is pretty embarrassing.

On a side note, if someone did, say, lose their job over this . . . Hi, I'm Ben. I have a long history in the film and television industry. Oh, and I AM looking for a job!

I love gimmicks

You know what I liked most about the Super Bowl last night? The 3D commercials at halftime. Why? Because they were 3D! Duh!

Make anything 3D and I'm interested. As a kid, I'd buy 3D Gumby and GI Joe comic books. Were they any good? I have no idea. I doubt I ever read them. I'm sure all I did was stare at the pages with my 3D glasses.

I paid to see Freddy's Dead, the 3D Nightmare on Elm Street installment, when it first came out. I had never seen a Freddy movie in theaters, but . . . this one was in 3D! Well, not the WHOLE movie, but we got to see some 3D during the last 15 minutes. And it was horrible! But I still have the glasses.

I drove in a snowstorm a few years ago to try to see the Polar Express in 3D IMAX when it was released, only to find that every screening was sold out. Did I care about the Polar Express? No. But it was in 3D, so I had to risk life and limb to make the attempt.

I haven't gone to see the new My Bloody Valentine 3D . . . yet. 

Anyway . . .

When I heard that they were going to run an ad during the Super Bowl in 3D, I made sure to pick up some glasses at the grocery store. Of course, I did this while remembering the pathetic Diet Coke "Be Bop Bamboozled" 3D halftime show from 1989 (A sad, sad halftime show), so I wasn't putting much hope into this year's events.

I was pleasantly surprised.

The amber and blue glasses, using a technology developed by ColorCode 3D, actually seemed to pop the colors more than the traditional red/blue lenses. I always wondered why people bothered with the red lens for television events in 3D, as that channel always seems to be the wonkiest when it comes to color balance. The people at ColorCode must have thought of this, as well. Their amber lens made the effects look pretty convincing.

But the contents were lacking. Monsters vs. Aliens seems pretty dumb, and those Sobe lizards are lame. Even 3D couldn't make them interesting. Why couldn't we see Bruce and Little Stevie in 3D? Now that would have been a show!

If you're interested, the website for ColorCode has some cool stuff to check out. 

Question: What is the online Jeopardy quiz?

Answer: Something I did last night, and it didn't go as horribly as I expected.

To begin, if you didn't realize, Jeopardy hosts an online quiz every once in a while. Random folks take it, and the results are used to decide who gets to formally audition for the program. Quite a process, if you ask me.

The Professor took the quiz on Tuesday night and, according to her, failed miserably. So, as a goof, I decided to sign up for the Central time zone test (they break up the quiz so that each time zone has their own test on separate nights, though they let anyone sign up, regardless of time zone). It was nothing more than a whim. I assumed I would do poorly, especially considering The Professor's recollection of her test, but I'd give it my best.

The Jeopardy site urged all quiz takers to log on at least twenty minutes before the 9 p.m. (8 p.m. Central) start time. Being a good little bee, I signed in at about 8:40 p.m. and got to be psyched out by the pensive stare of a photo of Alex Trebek while I waited for the countdown to reach zero. I spent the time talking to him as if I was Sean Connery, trying to break him down a bit, though I don't think I was very successful. When there was thirty seconds left on the timer, the familiar theme music to Jeopardy began playing. When it ended, the barrage of questions began.

50 questions were asked. Each allowed 15 seconds to type in an answer before automatically passing to the next question. I will admit, I passed on at least five or six questions. But I was actually able to answer quite a few. It didn't hurt that some of the answers were related to softball topics like Lindsey Lohan , Firefox, and Slumdog Millionaire. I'm guessing I got at least 25 correct, which is still failing, but I honestly didn't think I'd get more than 10.

Unfortunately, when the test ended, I didn't get a score. Quiz takers don't even get to look back on what they've answered. 

This just means I'll have to wait by the phone for the next year, hoping that Trebek phones me for an audition.

I won't be holding my breath.  

Update: I've noticed quite a few folks finding this post while doing Google searches for "online Jeopardy quiz answers." Tsk, tsk! First of all, I'm 100% sure they don't offer the same test every night. Second of all, what's the fun in cheating?