The ex-governor and Vice-Presidential  candidate has become one of the most notoriously anti-environmental politicians during her recent bout of media attention, so when it was announced that she would be developing a new show with The Discovery Company’s TLC, there was understandable confusion, and a rather predictable outburst from her detractors.  

Palin, the owner of the catchphrase “Drill, baby, drill!” and known proponent of aerial hunting, will act as the host and wilderness guide on “Sarah Palin’s Alaska,” a release date for which has yet to be set.

In a statement released through TLC, Palin said, “our family enjoys Discovery’s networks. I look forward to working with [producer Mark Burnett] to bring the wonder and majesty of Alaska to all Americans.” Currently a Fox News Channel commentator, Palin’s appointment as host of a nature show has many up in arms.

The Discovery Company has been the home to some of the most preservation oriented and nature driven programming known to man. In stark contrast to Palin’s stance on aerial wolf hunting as a form of predator control, Discovery Channel’s “Planet Earth” aired footage stating that not only is it actually quite difficult for wolves to catch caribou, but that talk of reducing wolf populations to increase those of caribou and moose is based on a misconception.

Palin however, is not one to be told no. As she once said as the Mayor of Wasilla, “I’m the mayor, I can do whatever I want until the courts tell me I can’t.”

It seems unlikely that the show will fail, even considering its ironic host. Palin, for all her controversy, is a magnet for attention. Her memoir, “Going Rogue: An American Life” has sold over 2.2 million copies, making it one of only four political memoirs to sell over one million. Regardless of whether or not Palin will convey any valuable information about Alaska, or anything else for that matter, for there is far too much hype surrounding.

Say what you will about Sarah Palin, as a person, a politician, or a political commentator, but she is simply incredible at gaining media attention, and “Sarah Palin’s Alaska” will likely be no exception.

Dr. Who is a Time Lord, a mysterious alien who coincidentally looks exactly like a human, that travels through time to random parts of the universe. And as if being able to manipulate time wasn’t enough, Who uses his extensive knowledge of science, technology and history to avert crises.

The show that bears his name is one of the longest running on television, and is listed by the Guinness Book of World Records as the single most successful science fiction series of all time. It has been around for over 30 years and has an immense bearing in the pop culture of several UK generations.

The show was first aired in 1963, and was extremely successful until it a decline in the show’s popularity during the late 80s brought about its suspension and eventual cancellation.

Since then, the series has had several reincarnations. The show first reemerged in 1996 for a TV movie, and then was fully revived in 2005.

Though the characters and plots are all notable in themselves, perhaps the most ingenious element of the show is the Doctor’s ability to change his appearance whenever it’s convenient (i.e. when a new actor signs on). The ability of the Doctor to regenerate himself as a new entity when near death creates interesting plotlines, in which, the Doctor comes very close to death while the show endures in a believable fashion.

Since its return, the show has been welcomed back by people who remember the heyday of Who, as well as by people who only know of the newer version of the series. As of April 3 of this year, when the newest series began, three different actors have portrayed the Doctor.

The most recent season of the new series, wherein Matt Smith takes on the role of the Doctor, has been universally well-received, and for good reason. Smith has more than filled the colossal shoes of David Tennant, the previous Dr. Who, who played the role of the adventuring Time Lord impeccably.

With each new actor, the Doctor’s personality shifts slightly. Smith has coolly delivered performances that have establishing himself as a new and unique Doctor, but, most importantly, Smith retains the crucial elements that every Dr. Who has possessed.

Smith, however, is a uniquely mercurial and impulsive portrayer of Who; he holds a kind, gentle air to his composure. As a result, Smith is more relatable to viewers and is able to retain viewer support that some of the colder versions of the Doctor couldn’t necessarily command.

The Companion, an ever-changing character that accompanies the Doctor on his journeys (usually by accident) in the latest series is Amy Pond (Karen Gillian). She is as good a companion as the Doctor has ever had, and she’s easy to fall in love with.

Both Smith and Gillian make the show very enjoyable and the adventures dreamed up by the writers are as far-fetched and fantastic as ever, but it’s hard to imagine that the U.S. audience will ever expand beyond a small cult following.

Part of the reason Doctor Who” is so big in the UK is the degree to which it is entrenched in British pop culture. There are very few people in Britain for whom “Dr. Who” means nothing.

Things across the pond, however, are a little different. With no knowledge of the show’s deep history, and no feeling of the magnitude of the show’s bearing on pop culture, some of the pleasure of watching “Dr. Who” is lost on an American audience.

The show is still a fantastic sci-fi adventure, but it seems virtually impossible for it to grab a firm foothold in the American consciousness the way it so wholly encompasses British TV culture. In American society, Dr. Who’s name is unfortunately destined to remain an apt moniker for his anonymity.

The Ratings:
★ — Oliver Twist
★★ — Scrooge McDuck
★★★ — Middle Upper Middle Class
★★★★ — Gold Trash Can

Park across two pay park spaces and pay for both
★★
What better way to display your vast fortune to the world than with the bold statement that not only can you afford two parking spots, but you can deprive someone else of one in the process? This is actually a two-sided strategy, as robbing from others not only makes you richer, but makes them more poor. The only downside is the relatively small scale of this stunt, and the chance that you might very well get written a ticket by some lowly police officer, which could severely dent the aforementioned opulent wealth. If you’re a real high roller like Sam Dunnington, fill your trunk with traffic cones and pay for entire blocks.

Purchase a Swedish orphan at Ikea
★★★
As a legal Swedish citizen, I am privy to a few secrets about the country. One such secret is the sale of Swedish children at Ikea. The whole furniture thing is nothing but a clever ruse to fool the public. But those who know Ikea’s real business know that they have an outlet for demonstrating their ever growing wealth. Ikea pulls in children from Sweden and lost lads harvested from the store. Sometimes I leave Ikea, and I could swear I have something else with me, like a sibling or a cousin. These lost children are gathered in the Ikea children’s center ball pit where unsold children are then shipped to Sweden to work in the dangerous gummi fish mines. For a few Swedish Crowns, you could have a little Olaf cleaning your dishes.

Instead of motorboating, yacht
★★★★
There’s not a lot else to say. Preferably on a boat no less than 150 feet long and equipped with a full crew.

Throw away socks after wearing them
★★★
There’s nothing better than pulling on a fresh pair of socks from the latest trip to Costco. The feeling of the fresh cotton girding your toes is unparalleled by any emotion in the spectrum of human feelings.

Make it rain
★
This is, in fact, the most uninspired, silly way to waste your hard earned cash. Instead of doing something interesting, like any self respecting, eccentric millionaire would, you could make it rain. It’s simply unimaginative. I don’t care what rapper does it, there’s just no style involved in it. If you don’t like anything else on this list, at least think of a better frivolous purchase than making it rain. Plus then you just waste a whole lot of your money.  

Replace your hot water heater with a champagne jacuzzi
★★★
The other day I found this dusty blue tank in my basement, which was taking up about enough space for a basement hot tub. I think other people might have one of these things too, I’m told that it’s called a hot water heater, and from what I ‘m able to gather, it has very little purpose other than from preventing respectable people from having hot tubs. So the only logical solution for this problem is to build a hot tub in the space this thing takes up, then fill it with champagne. Bathing in water is so passé.

Don’t cremate, gold plate
★★★★
The death of a loved one is a terrible loss. You’ll never see them again, and there’s simply nothing to do about it. So why would you honor their memory with the trite, cliche practice of cremation? When I pass, I want to be remembered in the most lavish way imaginable, so to turn me into ashes would be an affront to my memory. So, the next time a loved one passes, gold plate their corpse. I can’t think of a more lavish living room decoration than a resplendent gold Uncle Ernest, a message to all who enter the house that you make Rich Uncle Pennybags look like Tiny Tim.

Following Usher’s recent divorce, “Raymond vs. Raymond” features more harsh words for the (now ex) wifey than the last album. Songs like “Papers” rage against Ushers ex-wife with an attitude that has seldom been seen in Usher’s songs on any previous album. He seems almost bitter, and although his songs declare his strength, the implosion of his marriage is obviously smarting. He has certainly regressed somewhat from where his mind was in “Here I Stand,” his previous album. His lyrics are much more thoughtless, and he doesn’t seem nearly as sharp or focused as he has in the past. Usher may be a desirable bachelor all over again, but he sure doesn’t sound like it. The Usher of romance explosions and love in various clubs is gone. Meet the Usher of pre-nups, divorce court, and spite songs. It’s pretty hard to get excited about.

The result of this lack of focus in music is rather boring. There are a few songs worth hearing on the album, but listening to the album as a whole, you get the sense that you’ve heard it all before. Nothing on “Raymond vs. Raymond” is really that new, and instead of the introspective, on point album you would expect after “Here I Stand,” we get a boring, lazy attempt at a party album, with a few personal references to appease those who would have expected reflective new material from Usher. It’s really quite a letdown, especially for real Usher fans, who want to see him flex the powerful vocals they know he has. But this is closer to a watered down Justin Bieber album than the Usher we’re used to.

Not only are the vocals and inspiration lacking, but the production is uncharacteristically poor for an Usher album. Usually the beats and production values of an Usher album are solid and well made, and it has never seemed in the past like Usher has had to make up any deficit caused by poor producing. But “Raymond vs. Raymond” digs itself a big hole with some really boring beats, and Usher’s lazy effort falls well short of making up for that.

Hopefully Usher has the ability to pull himself out of this midlife crisis and put out something less dull next time. He certainly is capable, but it remains to be seen whether or not he can revive his career, and get back to his old ways of bustin’ nuts and taking phone numbers. Let’s hope so.

Krakauer’s novel, “Where Men Win Glory”, tells Tillman’s story, and beyond that, characterizes him as a person, gives him substance beyond the image of a martyr. Krakauer goes out of his way to detail Tillman’s life in full, and the novel becomes not so much the story of his death but of his life. Krakauer includes the little details of Tillman’s life that, in a way, are equally important as the glorified picture of the burning patriot. Tillman was beyond humble. He refused to do interviews when he left the NFL, and worried that if he died he would be paraded and honored above other soldiers. By including the everyday things that were unique and incredible about Tillman, Krakauer does him justice, honoring Pat’s wish to be regarded simply the way every other soldier was.

The novel includes details of the enthralling history of Afghanistan, a country so mired in violence that it’s sometimes hard to know what about it is true and what is not. The history, while engaging and very well written, seems to be more filler than substance, as it’s relevance to Tillman’s life is debatable. Even some of the minutia about Tillman’s life seems a stretch. Does the reader really care if Tillman threw up in Paris, and does that detail add anything to his character, or just make the book a little more disgusting?

The book is incredibly well written and very engaging, despite the fact that it would be better if it were about 50 pages shorter. It’s hard to know for sure, however, if Pat Tillman himself would consider Krakauer’s novel an honoring description of his character or just another glorified attempt to cast him in the light he so desperately tried to avoid.

The plot follows the Greek myth of Perseus, who becomes embroiled in the midst of a war between the Gods and men who refuse to honor their superiority. Perseus himself is half man, half god, one of the many children of a mortal woman and Zeus, who throughout Greek and Roman mythology, proves himself to be the horniest man among mortals and gods. He definitely has a wife, but to the extent of my knowledge she just gets kind of miffed whenever he has another affair, instead of using her ability as a God to punish him in some more meaningful way. The plot of Clash of the Titans gets a little convoluted at times, largely because of poor scriptwriting and the difficulty of condensing a Greek myth. Myths have incredibly complicated plots in certain parts, and are mostly translated from ancient texts, so there is a little lost in translation. The incredible number of references to other myths or minutia from other tales makes written myth hard to follow, and the fact that very little of this is explained or detailed in the film makes the plot lacking in some of the intricacy that makes written myth so interesting.

The trailers for Clash of the Titans promised a 3D adventure that the film simply couldn’t live up to. The fact is that the 3D aspects of the movie are little more than an afterthought. The movie was originally made in that boring tried movie format known as 2D, and then converted to 3D, making the effects feel forced. It was obvious watching the movie that the visual effects were added after the movie was originally filmed. Avatar was so successful in large part due to the groundbreaking techniques employed in creating the stunning visual effects. Because of these it was able to get away with a suspect plot, and even sneak into consideration for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Clash of the Titans should have been more focused on the visual effects, because the movie fell far short, and felt more unfinished than a Truax assignment the night before it’s due.

It was rather surprising to see such poor acting in Clash of the Titans. Despite being a movie that looked like it should be relying on visual effects, the cast was actually quite skilled. Liam Neeson, Ralph Fiennes and Pete Postelthwaite have all turned in superb performances in the past, but were uncharacteristically terrible in Clash of the Titans. Sam Worthington of Avatar fame was similarly crap. The actors couldn’t hide the fact that they had sold out for a terrible script and production behind any kraken or Zeus beard.

Critic A.O. Scott gave the movie a positive review, saying that despite the obvious flaws of the movie, Clash of the Titans “all adds up to a welcome dose of old-fashioned B-movie entertainment.” Except it’s anything but a B-movie. The massive budget, big effects, and big actors affords Clash of the Titans little room to be classified as a B-movie, and the end result is disappointing, to say the least. Going to see Clash of the Titans is on par with giving $10 dollars to that guy who keeps sending you spam and insisting you are related to a Sudanese prince, and if you would only front some money you could be rich. But you won’t get rich emailing that guy your credit card number, and you won’t be entertained pissing away $10 on a movie that struggles to reach mediocrity.

April Fool’s day is one of the easiest holidays, to remember, falling on the first of the month, which means that no one forgets to prank someone else. For some, there’s no better way to begin the month than by watching some poor sucker get horseradish instead of ketchup., For others, it’s a day spent in a constant state of alertness, with a concealed weapon. It’s generally best to identify the latter type of person early on and avoid pranking them. However, if you know someone who needs a good pranking, but won’t reciprocate with multiple stab wounds, here are some ideas to get you started. (I am not responsible for any fatalities caused by attempting the following pranks)

Butter the floor

As the basis of a few hilarious YouTube videos, this idea has already garnered quite a few laughs. The potential of a buttered floor is massive; a multi-step prank could even be concocted. Instead of just having a friend loose his footing comically, a strategically buttered floor could lead the victim to grab something disgusting for balance or slide into something hazardous. If you don’t know where in a know the specific location of your prey is, just butter everything in sight. The few lawsuits that result from a well buttered building pale in comparison to the satisfaction gained from a successful prank. It should be noted that it is ill advised to butter carpets, and that it is recommended to stifle laughter until you are sure your victim is still breathing.

Send out college decisions

This isn’t actually a joke. Colleges make decisions on April 1st. In a cruel mass decision, many schools have decided that the best idea day towould be to notify their students applicants of admission or rejection is April 1ston this day. Imagine someone who woke up to a face-full of shaving cream courtesy of their little sibling, got their shoelaces tied together, and was repeatedly pranked until their day turned decidedly sour. Then they find out that they have been rejected from their top colleges. That’s enough to turn any lighthearted prankee into a weapon concealing misanthrope. March 31st 31st and April 2nd l 2nd are still open, admissions offices.

Air a Fake Broadcast

Although the average reader of the Garfield Messenger may have somewhat limited access to global broadcasting equipment, it is fun to scheme about what kind of mayhem you could cause with such access. Across the pond, the Brits seem to have a knack for national tomfoolery, as the BBC has perpetrated several April fools broadcasts that have become infamous for their rousing success. In 1957, they aired a segment on the Swiss spaghetti farmers, and their booming spaghetti crop that particular spring, due to the mild winter and the elimination of the spaghetti weevil. Many called the BBC, demanding to know how to grow their own spaghetti tree, to which they simply replied “place a sprig of spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best.” Another television hoax was perpetrated in 1962 in Sweden, the coolest and most good-humored of nations. On what was then the country’s single television channel, the station’s technical expert went on air in order to instruct viewers how to convert their set to a color TV, telling them to put a nylon stocking over their TV. Real color TVs didn’t get to Sweden until 1970.

GQ

Gentlemen’s Quarterly is the monthly bible of man. Everything from style to women is bundled into one convenient package. Similar magazines such as Men’s Health and Esquire attempt to imitate the path blazed by GQ, but the true gentleman should accept no substitute. Although the fashion can tread the fine between well dressed and preppy fruit, GQ is generally a veritable guide to the modern man’s world. GQ exudes more style than the illegitimate love child of Sean Connery and Gregory Peck, a disturbing, yet alluring combination that embodies the class GQ imparts on its readership every month.

Wired

There’s really no other magazine that covers mind reading technology and 500 horsepower electric Porsches in the same issue. Wired is a constant catalog of cool; anything that turns heads in the world of technology will surely end up in the pages of Wired. Wired is incredibly well designed, and all the articles always look as good as they read. If you need to know where you can find an electric soap maker, or an avant garde abstract art making robot, look no further than Wired. This magazine hosts all the awesome automatons and filthy fiber optics of the world, and never fails to capture the minds of its readership.

National Geographic

Although it doesn’t have any pictures of Brangelina in its natural habitat, or teach you how to shop for shoes like a pro, National Geographic manages to keep up subscriptions in a world that has become increasingly isolated from natural beauty. National Geographic is decidedly the best magazine with pictures of fossils and sharks (sorry Maxim), and consistently has some of the most interesting stories anywhere about the natural world, and the latest discoveries concerning the history of our planet. If you heard about some polygamist caveman remains, look no further than National Geographic to learn the truth.

Cosmopolitan

I don’t actually read this magazine, but if I were a 17-year-old girl I can only assume I would be interested in such enthralling topics as “His Favorite Time for Sex” and “5 Secrets to Becoming Famous”. Truly a beacon for girly interests, Cosmopolitan is the female equivalent of GQ, only with much more abrasive, flamboyant colors. Apparently each issue brands itself as a fresh new bunch of articles, but to the untrained eye it really just looks like a bunch of sex articles recycled each month. I may not be fooled, but it doesn’t really matter, because I am pretty much the opposite of Cosmopolitan’s target demographic.

The New Yorker

The next time you grab the mail and toss aside your parents new issue of The New Yorker for the much more enthralling letter from your Canadian pen pal, reconsider. Not only is Canada overrated, but The New Yorker isn’t as pretentious and stuffy as it is made out to be. The New Yorker is filled with flawless writing, front to back, and the comics aren’t half bad either. Humorous satire, captivating fiction, and thoughtful review are mainstays of The New Yorker, so tell Gordie to take a hike and catch up with a publication from the good old US of A.

Sports Illustrated

There’s really no one-two combination better than the latest news in sports and scantily clad bathing suit models. In these two, Sports Illustrated has found the Holy Grail of readership acquisition. Not only is the sports news exclusive, interesting, and well written, but the annual Swimsuit Issue probably pulls more readers than any well-intentioned political journal could ever hope to. Sports Illustrated has established itself as a prominent sports media entity, probably second only to ESPN, and Marissa Miller means that they won’t leave the spotlight any time soon. We can only hope that in the next swimsuit issue, Lebron and Kobe go nudie.

Red Mill Burger

No longer a well-kept secret among Seattleites, Red Mill is now famous for their delicious burgers. It’s rare to hear a word against Red Mill in Seattle, and for good reason. Their burgers are exceptional. Although Dick’s is a great midnight stop, or a quick cheap Friday night meal, Red Mill is simply the gold standard when it comes to quality burgers. Assuming you can wrangle the ever-winding line, and dodge the mostly un-enforced “No Cell Phones” rule at Red Mill, it is the number one destination in Seattle for a quality burger.

Blue Moon

One of my personal favorites, Blue Moon is a bit cheaper than Red Mill, and in my opinion, just a bit better. Blue Moon is generally not crowded, and they have a consistently friendly staff who seem to enjoy serving burgers as much as customers do eating them. Blue Moon has an excellent selection of different burgers, each one as delicious as the last. They are also home to something known as the “Code Blue Burger” which is a behemoth of a burger I hope one day to conquer. It consists of two beef patties topped with three slices of hickory smoked bacon, two slices of cheese, peanut butter, sweet red onions, pickle and a side of special Blue Moon sauce. The peanut butter is a bit alarming, but altogether it sounds like an experience to be had. If you consider yourself a self-respecting burger enthusiast, Blue Moon should be your new weekend plan.

Lunchbox Laboratory

Until recently, the Lunchbox Laboratory had received very little hype outside its regular Ballard clientele, but a November shoutout in The Stranger has had people buzzing about the specialty burger joint. The main talking point about Lunchbox Lab is the endless selection for burger accessories. In a make-your-own list, Lunchbox Lab has a seemingly infinite number of combinations of ingredients for the creation of the perfect burger. Although it would take many visits to exhaust all the burgers available at Lunchbox Lab, it seems for now that their selection still falls short of the right pick at either Red Mill or Blue Moon. However, Lunchbox Lab certainly does have its charm and is always a valid choice for a burger.

Between our parking spot and The Showbox, we saw four passing patrol cars, which made us worry about how rowdy this concert might get. However, about a block from The Showbox, we noticed that the police had all gone to Krispy Kreme, and our fears of a riot were assuaged.

After being frisked by the bossy security staff, we entered the show, ready for Snoop to take the stage, but fully aware that we would have to endure some opening acts first. Both the openers, Grynch and Helladope, were Seattle based artists, which was nice to see, especially heading for such a big name, but I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed either act. Grynch was considerably underwhelming, and the fact that he had a rather irritating song about driving his mom’s Volvo didn’t exactly help. Helladope played a few good songs, and were fun for the first 15 minutes, but their set lasted entirely too long. I felt kind of bad as they were pelted with restless boos, and I was left wondering if they could have really done anything to save their performance. They certainly didn’t command the kind of energy required to rein in the restless crowd, but it was hard to tell whether or not that was the fault of the musicians or the insurmountable impatience of the audience.

The excitement was only fur­ther kindled by a 20 minute showing of the beginning of a film version of Snoop’s latest album, Malice n Wonderland. Not content with just the music of Malice, Snoop Dogg is releasing a film rap-opera, featuring Jamie Foxx and Xzibit, with the extended version of his new album. The first 20 minutes depicted a dystopia wherein only Snoop Dogg could save humanity, as his super-power bestowed alter ego, “Malice,” The part of the film we saw was enjoyable, and left me eager for the final product.

Finally, after what seemed like an endless wait, the ache disappeared from my legs, and I didn’t feel so thirsty anymore. The lights went down, and the screen at the back of the stage lit up with images of Snoop in his element as intense classical music blasted. As soon as the images faded and the song tapered out, one of Snoop’s classic hits, “The Next Episode” began, and the crowd’s pent up excitement was released in a collective roar. Snoop Dogg was finally here. Snoop Dogg emerged, clad in a sweat suit and a black and purple UW shirt, wearing sunglasses in a feeble at­tempt to conceal his clearly illegal state of mind. He sort of blew his cover five minutes later, by whipping off his glasses into the crowd, revealing his incriminatingly red eyes, and then proceeding to request a blunt from whoever had one available in the front row. His request granted, he continued the show.

The best part of the show was the way Snoop Dogg conducted himself onstage. Swag has become a serious buzz word in rap and hip hop music, and it usually connotes a sort of boastful, ostentatious attitude. Friday night, I saw true swag exemplified by Snoop Dogg onstage. He wasn’t boasting about his vast riches or wenches who catered to his every whim, but he commanded an unparalleled air of respect usually reserved for presidents and Super Bowl winners. The 2Pac and Biggie songs he sang along to with the crowd bridged the small lane occupied by security between the crowd and the stage, and made it feel like everyone was just hanging out with Snoop, even thought the crowd was mostly preppy white kids who Snoop wouldn’t be caught dead with. The highlight of the concert wasn’t a filthy verse, but the complete opposite, a moment of complete silence that followed a pause in the middle of a song, dictated by a commanding “stop.” It showed the world that Snoop was still around, and and Soulja Boy’s swag was a mere pittance compared to the wealth of respect commanded by tha Dogg.