Why are "talented" people in films always awful?

If you've ever seen Tuesdays with Morrie, I'm sorry for you. But also, you are aware of what may be the best example of this phenomenon.

Often, in films, one of the characters is supposed to be phenomenally talented; here, the main character's girlfriend, who is a singer of some kind. Now, instead of just telling you that she's wonderful, or actually hiring someone with a nice voice, both of which would work out well, they tell you that this woman is the greatest, but then let her sing. Now, I don't know what torturing meerkats really sounds like, but this woman singing is probably a fair approximation.

Another, more recent, example, is Emmy Rossum in Phantom of the Opera. Now, Miss Rossum has a nice voice and did her own singing and blah de bloo de blah. The point is that Christine's voice is cosmically amazing. It's not supposed to be "good for a teenage proto-starlet." It's supposed to be frighteningly wonderful. There is no plot to the show without that. None. And Miss Rossum's voice is not cosmically amazing.

So, basically, do your job, casting people. Or dubbing people. Somebody, anyway. You can lie to your star. They did it to Natalie Wood.

Why does NFL.com lie to me?

Thursday night football is on the NFL Network. Many people do not get the NFL Network. In an attempt to rub salt in the wound, NFL.com says, on Thursdays, "Watch Live Online."

They do not mean the game. They mean a passel of talking heads, saying inane things and occasionally cutting away to a camera that appears to be operated by someone drunk and unable to figure out where the game is happening, with the addition of another stupid talking head.

Note: this in no way resembles watching a football game, except for the cosmic rage it induces. So stop lying, chumps.

I would like to point out that last year you could watch games online, so NFL.com is in yet another way actually worse than it used to be. Thanks. Thanks so much.

Why is Natasha Rostova such a brat?

She is entirely to blame for Andrei's death. If she hadn't been so stupid as to take up with the clearly knavish Anatol Kuragin, Andrei wouldn't have gone back into the army and gotten wounded. Again.

Plus, clearly if you nurse a man back to health and keep him from getting gangrene and stuff, and he just gives up anyway, even though he has forgiven you for your seriously deranged peccadillo, it is because he simply cannot face the thought of spending any more time with you, because you're awful.

Not caring one way or the other about Boris Drubetskoy--whatever. Cheating, if fakely, on Andrei Bolkonsky--probably you should just be put down for the greater good of humanity.

Why are people confused about the 12 Days of Christmas?

They are not before Christmas. They are after Christmas. After. They are the time from Christmas to Epiphany.

Because before Christmas it's not Christmas. It's Advent. You heathen.

Why do people play "The Sims?"

Various Sim games are interesting and instructive. Elevator optimization is endlessly thrilling.

"The Sims" is a sad waste of your pathetic time. I have even seen advertisements for expansion packs that are restricted because of sexual content. That is so mind-bogglingly tragic I can't even comprehend it.

Do you know what you could do in the hours and hours you are spending in perfecting the lives of fake, poorly rendered people? Possibly get your own life in enough order so that this is not an appealing way to spend time.

Why is the difference of "phase" from "faze" so difficult?

They have completely variant etymologies and meanings. The first--"phase"-- is from the Greek, and refers to stages or states, such as whether matter is solid or gaseous, or how much of the moon we can see. Less scientifically, we can use it to refer to whatever it is that teenagers do that makes them think that X is a really cool letter and black lipstick is the best lipstick.

"Faze" is not from the Greek, but instead from more northern languages. When one is fazed, one is discomfited. This word has exactly one application. There are no treacherous ambiguities.

"I'm not phased" is almost certainly a lie, and very much certainly is not what you mean.

Homophones are really, really not that hard.

Why do people fail to eat the rind on brie?

It is true that there are cheeses whose rinds one does not eat. Usually these involve random French garbage stuck to the outside. And yes, by "garbage" I pretty much mean "garbage."

Brie is not one of those cheeses. Indeed, the rind is one of the best parts. And, by eating the rind, you manage not to waste any of the cheese itself, so hey! Ecologically conscious as well.

What were you raised in, a barn?

Why don't men know about collar stays?

So, let's suppose that you are too tragically hip to consider wearing a button-down collar. They are, after all, proverbial for their tedium.

Well, you know what's worse than looking tedious? Having your collar points curl under. You look clueless, rumpled, and possibly like a Beatnik.

Since you obviously would never go near starch (see: "proverbial for tedium"), your options are limited. May I suggest collar stays? They are cheap, they are invisible, and, best of all, they will not give everyone the impression that your mother never explained to you how shirts work.

And if your shirt doesn't admit them, well, you've been had.

Why are there "pop" classical recordings?

This is not an economic but rather a moral argument. The market is evidently there, because apparently no one has the attention span to listen to all of Turandot. Fair enough. No "Nessun Dorma" for you, you lazy twerp.

There are fairly real if kind of squirrelly aesthetic arguments about this: the complete works, and the composer's intent, etc. You counter, "But what about a greatest hits album? How are those any different? I bet you don't condemn them."

And I don't. And if you had a soul, you would be able to understand the difference.

Basically, I hate Josh Groban and his stupid scarf.

Why do people pronounce "bury" as if you might put it in a pie?

A strawberry is a thing. A canterberry is not. Shrewsbury is a place. Bluebury is probably not.

You are the reason nonnative speakers have trouble with English. For you, vowels are like Tinkerbell, and only foreign people are stupid enough to believe in fairies.

It's a U, people. Christ was never "berried." At least, I hope not.

Why has no anglophone person ever excavated or talked about the temple of Mars Ultor?

German is a pain in my neck.

Why do people have creepy baby blogs?

It is universally acknowledged by grown-ups that being a baby is mildly to moderately humiliating. You can't dress yourself, you can't feed yourself, you don't understand toilets; the list goes on.

And yet, when people have babies of their own, they swan about telling everyone about everything the baby ever does, no matter how embarrassing, with illustrative photographs. This is bad enough when they keep their audience limited to acquaintances.

But now, nutjob parents have an extra, simplified outlet for their madness! It is called the internet. They can post daily, with photos that they needn't even develop, and save themselves the trouble of actually speaking to people. The baby's words, toilet ability, height, and weight are relentlessly tabulated for everyone to see.

Now, it's probably true that few random people read particular baby blogs, and therefore the audience is not much changed. But there's that nebulous creepy internet publicity added, which somehow makes this whole thing more off-putting.

It is wonderful that you care that much about your baby. That is in fact to be preferred. But stop being creepy.

Why do people touch art in museums?

I was in the Louvre once, and every so often one of the small and amusing French security types would rush towards someone, expostulating about how, no, one is not even allowed to touch the frame. The culprit would always wander away looking confused.

My question: in what god-forsaken hellhole of a country are you allowed to touch anything in a museum?

These things are priceless. You are unwashed and oily. It's bad enough to have light and air on paint and wood, but we've made a moral choice that we like the ignorant masses to see art, for whatever reason, so we take the hit and have graduate programs in preservation and restoration.

Keep your grubby proletarian paws off the Rembrandt.