American Idol - SEASON 7 LIVEBLOG!

I know that liveblogging is rather passe these days. Or is it, I'm not even sure. I've been without a computer for along time and I'm woefully out of touch. But now, I'm back up online -- and with a laptop no less -- so I figure why the heck not try it.

And what should I liveblog? Well, of course, American Idol. Not only do I have a love/hate relationship with this show, but it is such wonderfully fertile fodder for snarky quips and salient observations. This season, my feeling for the show has been much more hate than love. The contestants have been (although arguably the most talented) certainly the most bland, the songs and celebrity mentors have been mostly lame-o (although they did mercifully not subject us to the wax-faced Barry Manilow again this year), and my hatred for the mush-mouthed Randy Jackson has reached a fever pitch. Combine that with the fact that last night's Idol finale between David Cook and David Archleta was the worst on record (not in terms of the singing but in terms of the show's production value), and I think I'm ready to finally release a torrent of cathartic venom on this capsizing ship. Lord forgive me (or at least Javen forgive me).

Plus, I am going to drink while I'm doing it. Times are Eastern Standard.

Let's blog it out.

Beer #1: Ommegang Abbey Ale out of a tulip glass. Yes, a tulip glass. Oh how I love to put my lips on a tulip glass. Despite the fact that I am liveblogging American Idol, I am still heterosexual. But then again, the show is two hours long, and who knows what could happen.

8:00. Okay, this boxing/gladitator/Rocky IV thing has got to stop already. Last night it was Jim Lampley and Michael Buffer speaking in lame-ass boxing metaphors. Tonight, the show opens on the Davids both dressed in pure white, staring each other down under a hot spotlight. Don't they realize that these two are both colossal pussbags and can't look intimidating not matter how hard they stare at each other? Give it a rest, Idol; Jon Heder looked more intimidating in "Blades of Glory."

It seems like they are going to do a repeat of last night, where it was less a celebration of music and the contestants -- as it had been in the past -- and this attempt to make it more "confrontational," even though I've seen more machismo in "The Birdcage." If this was between Syesha and either of the Davids, at least we would have been spared this faux-intensity.

8:01. Was that Lori Laughlin in the audience??? Have mercy! Wait, how the hell did she score tickets?

8:02. Randy Jackson is dressed like Austin Powers, Paula looks pretty good. Simon still dresses like Tom Jones (the singer or the Albert Finney character, take your pick). Randy is the king of false jocularity, shouting "Boo!" when they announce Simon's name. He's so playful and not at all forced.

8:03. Mikayla Gordon and Matt Rogers are reporting from Kansas City Moe and Salt Lake City, respectively. The one in SLC looks like an Aryan youth rally. Relax, I only mean because there are so many white people there. And they probably do all hate black people. Except Karl Malone of course.

8:04. The Idols come out in matching white outfits and perform "Get Ready" by either the Four Tops or the Temptations. I am totally gay for these performances, even though they always end up looking like an Up With People performance. I see Syesha is pulling a Haley Scarnato and showing off her legs. Too little too late, Syeesh.

It is weird to see all the Idols who got booted off. I had just assumed they all went into some sort of exile. It's nice to Brooke White back, dancing incredibly awkwardly. I've seen a more natural arm motion on Rick Allen.

8:10. Fine, so I'm actually digging the version of "Hero" that the Davids are doing. Their harmonics are actually working for me. Maybe all the song really ever needed was less Chad Kroeger. If Cook sang this last night, he would have won for sure. (Current Gay-O-Meter: 7/10) Jesus, they are really gonna milk the shit outta this show aren't they? It's only ten after.

8:12. I can already tell this Guru Pitka business is going to be a Mike Myers mug-fest. Ok the Sitar Hero thing kinda made me laugh. Crap, that was actually kind of amusing. I hate laughing at corny shit. Archuleta said that he didn't have any idea what the Guru was talking about; I just realized he was born in 1991 or 1992 (Wikipedia says just a few days before New Year's of 1991). Holy shit I am old; certainly too old to be liveblogging American Idol. Well, either way, within the next few days Archuleta will be swimming in teenaged ass.

8:18. Syesha and Seal. Syesha looks hot. So does Seal! I've moved on to Beer #2 Middle Ages ImPaled Ale. It looks like Syesha has really tried to shed the Bohemian look in the last few weeks, letting her curly hair go straight. It's gettin' the job done, although I still don't like her self-satisfied smirk. I just saw Joel McHale from The Soup. How can he make fun of this show if he's there?

8:21. So Jessica Alba is in that "Love Guru" movie eh? And Stephen Colbert?? And Jim GAFFIGAN??? I'm so effing there.

8:25. Seacrest says that interviewing Jason Castro was "lit'rally like pulling teeth." Was it? Really? Jason's version of "Hallelujah" is actually pretty good. Come to think of it, he could do pretty well putting out albums that sound like Jeff Buckley. Hopefully he doesn't jump into Wolf River and drown.

8:28. The obligatory "best-of" the behind the scenes of the Idols just havin' fun on the sets of all their Ford commercials. Just pallin' around, making faces and having a wonderful time.

8:29. These two pricks each get a hybrid car? Got-dammit. Archuleta's mom is not bad looking for whatever her age might be.

8:30. No human being has ever looked more out of place than Amanda Overmeyer looks singing Donna Summer. That little 4'6" Ramiele Malubay is so damn cute; I just wanna put her in my pocket like one of those little Tamagotchi pets. Donna Summer not looking too awful for her age, although she does look pregnant. Better than Gloria Gaynor at least. Eesh. Good lord Seacrest was just dancing. I have moved onto Beer #3, Middle Ages Swallow Wit Belgian White. Paula stands and claps, and I think I just saw Fantasia Barrino with fire-truck red hair; and I thought she couldn't get less attractive.

8:36. The preview for "The Incredible Hulk" is showing. Okay, here's my main issue. They improved a lot it seems: better actor playing Bruce Banner (Edward Norton this time, although Eric Bana is no slouch), looks like more action and less brooding psychobabble. But they have the SAME STUPID-LOOKING CARTOON HULK. They couldn't find a way to make the Hulk have a realistic-looking face this time?! It's like they took the same damn special effects and just shifted them over to this movie. The Hulk from the Ang Lee version didn't work because the Hulk -- the actual creature -- never felt real. It looks like a CGI graphic with a cartoon face. If you are gonna reboot the damn franchise, reboot the damn avatar while you're at it too. No wonder Ed Norton isn't doing any promotions for the movie. Pee break!

8:39. Angering Lou Dobbs, Pat Buchanan and xenophobes everywhere, here's Carly Smithson and Michael Johns! Singing, "The Letter." These goddamnm foreigners are stealing our Vietnam anthems now? They're probably too hopped-up on Vegemite and Guinness to notice. They can sure both belt it out though.

8:43. Why does Jimmy Kimmel always look like the sun is directly in his face? I mean I'm a squinter too but I'm not on national TV. I like that they at least let him do a mini-roast, although it would have been nice to see him skewer Randy's stupid ass.

8:45. Goody, it's time to "rock out." With .... fucking Bryan Adams?? Die...all of you just die with this sentimental "I got my first real six-string" poppycock. I guess for American Idol, Bryan Adams is as close to "rocking out" as they can get. Oh. I get it. He's actually there at the theater. Well this song he's singing is garbage, must be from his new album. He must be making a comeback, since they mentioned him on "HIMYM" the other night. I need Beer #4, Middle Ages Beast Bitter. You may soon witness this normally-erudite blog's descent into incoherency.

8:53. I kinda liked that Joe Torre State Farm commercial, if only for the fact that I don't have to hate him anymore now that he's with a boring, inoffensive team. Boy, Grady Little must hate him for so many reasons.

8:55. Jordin Sparks talking about The American Idol Experience at Disney World. Oy. And no, David Cook, performing with Z.Z. Top still doesn't take the focus off of your horribly unkempt facial hair. (I know, I know, pot-kettle-black and all that. Quiet Tracie.)

8:59. Wow, Graham Nash and Brooke White singing "Teach Your Children." This song always reminds me of my mom. Their harmonics aren't quite up to CSNY-snuff, but not horrible. Brooke White should have at least put on shoes, because her protruding right foot looks as if she's been walking across hot coals and it's frankly distracting me. I want to know what the hell Crosby and Stills were too busy doing to be here for this joyous and momentous occasion. Brooke remembered all the words which is a bonus.

9:03. Oh good, the "Sex & the City" movie. A film about four aging sluts. My hatred just brought my gay level back to normal. (Gay-O-Meter: 3/10.) Pee break!

9:06. Seacrest said, "They need no intro, here's [inaudible female fan screaming]." Apparently they do need intro because I have no idea who the fuck they are. Is it Menudo? Wait, let me take a guess. [Wild guess on Wikipedia.] Yup, the Jonas Brothers. I'm glad there are kids here to pick up the mantle that Blink-182 left behind. The floppy-haired super-Menudo-looking one is wearing the shiniest silver suit I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot. I'm sure that song will really hold up a few years from now. I just saw Justin Guarini.

9:09. A "worst-of" montage from this season. Some of the freakshows of the early rounds, including the "Let my pipple GO-O-O-O!" guy. Also, the "I Am Your Brother" guy in the plush Mercury hat. Please show Milo Turk, please show Milo Turk... The USC marching band comes on for the "I Am Your Brother" guy. I would have much preferred to hear "No Sex Allowed." Wow that Marching band fiasco got so bad they had to give it the Bill Conti "play off" music and go to commercial.

9:18. Wander Republic? Juan's Republic? I have no idea who this is. Okay, I guess it's OneRepublic. Since I only listen to space radio, I have no idea who this is but I'm sure they will be a huge, Coldplay-level band within the next 6 months based on this appearance. It worked for Rascal Flats. This song isn't terrible, but definitely fits into the Keane /Coldplay /Aqualung /James Blunt motif. This is the kind of music Archuleta is going to be making. This or Josh Groban.

9:21. Former Idol contestant (and current hair-regrowth pitchman) Matt Rogers says "the biggest party in Utah is happening right here." That's like saying, "The biggest orgy in the Vatican...." Archuleta's dad is there; seems like a sweet old man but he clearly raised a real prick for a son.

9:23. Jordin Sparks singing in a large shiny gold dress. I'm sure this song is popular but it sounds like any crappy Kelly Rowland song and she is way the crap off-key. At least I don't have to look up Blake Lewis's nose for this portion of the show. Speaking of which, I wonder if all the previous six Idol winners will be there. So far I've seen Reuben, Jordin and Fantasia. Kelly, Carrie and Taylor Hicks are heretofore conspicuously absent.

9:27. Wow, another manchild Adam Sandler movie. Glad to see how much he's evolved as an ACK-tor. I wonder if he will beat up someone in the movie who was mean to him earlier in the movie.

9:31. Ben Stiller, Jack Black and Robert Downey Jr. as the Pips. I'm not sure how funny this actually is, but there is something great about seeing a method actor like Robert Downey, Jr. slumming it. He looks amazing in that new "Tropic Thunder" movie, by the way.

9:35. Ahh, here comes Carrie Underwood. And speaking of showing a little leg! I hope TMZ has a cameraman standing in the front row. You gotta hand it to Carrie for staying loyal to Idol. I know why Kelly Clarkson has beef with the show, but for pete's sake, just show up once a year. For the fans, Kelly, the fans! Like ME! (Gay-O-Meter: 10/10.) Pee break!

(On to Beer #5, Southern Tier Uber Sun. I am representin' Upstate New York tonight, my friends!)

9:42. A cool preview for a TV show upcoming, apparently on Fox. I just saw Lt. Daniels from "The Wire" (ie. the greatest show in the history of television). Apparently it's called "Fringe" and it looks kind of awesome.

9:43. "Faith" by George Michael. Huh. How 'bout that. And Kristi Lee Cook leading it off no less. It's about time she started shaking her moneymaker. Amanda Overmeyer's voice sounds like when Maya Rudolph used to be that character on Saturday Night Live who called a Hyundai a "Hy-UN-Die-ay." Uh-oh, Michael Johns is singing "Father Figure." Could George Michael (the singer-songwriter) be in the house????

9:44. Wait for it..........

9:45. Here comes "Freedom '90." (Gay-O-Meter: still 10/10.)

9:46. Oh please, George Michael, be there. You were on the "Extras" Christmas Special, surely you can slum it for just a few minutes.

9:47. BOO-YAA! He's still a ladies man! Although he's dressed strangely like a cross between Bono and a priest. Boy his voice sure sounds off though. Paula is crying. PAULA IS CRYING!

9:53. Okay, we have the new American Idol coming up.... after the break. Break out the confetti and tears and Paula's arhythmic clapping.

9:57. Final thoughts of the year by the judges. Randy: you dudes brought it down to the wire, you're both winners. Paula: I'm honored, you two are truly amazing. It's the beginning of the destiny of your career. Simon: It wasn't so clear cut as we called it. I don't really care who wins, I think you've both done terrific.

9:58. The pencil-pusher with the results. And the winner is...

10:00. Of course, my DVR stops about 5 seconds before they announce the winner. Goddamn fucking Fox. Oh well, I guess there's no way to find out now.

Well, whoever won, they are both winners in my book. I hope you enjoyed taking this little journey with me. I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to watch next year. Not without a ton of alcohol. Oh well, it's onto Beer #6, The Duke of Winship. See ya next year!

Right-Wing Blowhard Gets Pwned

Chris Matthews is kind of a dick sometimes...

But this is one of the greatest things I've ever seen on one of these pundit shows ever ever ever ever.

This Kevin James douchehole (not the King of Queens, don't worry) tried to defend his hero Dubya, calling my man Barack an "appeaser," using the example of Britain's Neville Chamberlain giving away the store to Hitler in the early 1930s.

When Matthews asks this dumbfuck, what DID Neville Chamberlain do, the guy simply could not answer. He stammers and stutters and says the word "appeaser" over and over again, when it's clear he has no idea what the fuck he's talking about.

Watch and cringe....



This is the epitome of brainless, knee-jerk punditry. If you hear a fucking stupid idiot spouting off bullshit in the defense of his or her party, call them out. And remember dear readers, negotiating isn't fucking appeasement. They are not synonyms; they have different dictionary entries for a reason. Maybe if the jackasses running our current administration had remembered that it's okay to have diplomacy with our enemies (see: The Cuban Missile Crisis for example), we wouldn't be mired in the shitstorm we are currently trudging through.

You can repeat your Talking Points as many times as you want, that doesn't make them true, no matter how many simple-minded people believe them. Go ahead and talk about lapel pins and not putting your hand on your heart for the national anthem. When your cousin or neighbor's kid dies in Iraq -- God forbid -- maybe you'll start to forget about all the bullshit for a while.

All John Edwards Cares About Are Jet Skis

Love this guy...

Rude Bastards

Three rude things that happened to me within 60 minutes yesterday while at work:

1. I was waiting for the elevator to get to my floor in the morning. I was already running a little late, and due to my recent fiber-obsession, was eager to get to a working toilet. There were about three people waiting for the elevator when I got to it, but since the elevator wasn't coming, the queue started to pile up. I noticed that the button wasn't lit up (obviously something wrong with the elevator) but the woman who had apprently pressed the button in the first place was leaning her body up agains the unlit button panel. I was wearing my iPod when I noticed that the button wasn't lit, so I nonchalantly snuck behind her and pressed the button so it lit up. The woman turned to me and said, "I pressed it I swear" and I just sorta waved it off, as if saying "no problem." (The woman was apparently too busy gabbing away to notice that we had been waiting an extraordinarily long time for an elevator that only goes six floors.) Finally, the elevator started to move in our direction. By the time it got there, however, the line for to get on had grown. Finally, the elevator doors open, and though I was about the third or fourth person to wait for the elevator (moving to the side, of course, so people not getting on the elevator could get through the line), everyone else packed onto the elevator, leaving me the sole person who could not fit in the car. In fact, another guy walked up to the waiting line as the doors were opening and cut right in front of me to take the last spot. As the doors closed, I made brief eye contact with the lady who prevented the elevator from coming more expeditiously, and I think she could see how disappointed I was in her.




2. As I was exiting my building -- through the two sets of heavy glass doors -- I looked down for a brief second to take a sip of my coffee. BOOM. The door slammed in my face. The middle-aged African-American lady in front of me didn't even attempt to pretend to hold the door open while I went through. Coffee splashed all over my blazer's lapel. Though she could hear the door thud in my face, and hear me blurt out "godDAMMIT," she didn't even turn around.




3. My buddy Bruce and I were waiting in line at the coffee shop. Again, although we were in line, we left a small break in the line so that people who were not in line could slip through. Of course, a wiry unshaven piece of white trash with a bushy moustache and a NASCAR cap simply cut in front of us and got in line. No, "Are you guys in line?" No "Excuse me." He just brings his Diet Coke and lottery tickets up to the counter and checks out.
   

Since tomorrow is Mother's Day, I would like to thank my dear old Mum (and my Dad as well, I suppose) for raising me the right way -- for the most part anyway. I can't imagine being not only so rude and selfish as some people, but also so oblivious to it. I am completely self-aware that I am a stubborn, arrogant, argumentative, raging asshole, so at least I have that going for me.

[Update: Syntactical correction made on the advice of my editor. Thanks T.S.]

Buzz Bissinger is an Aloof Douchebag

There have recently been seeds of discontent planted in the realm of sports news and sports journalism, and hopefully they will grow into a vine that chokes ESPN and Fox Sports and all the other "Gasbags on Parade" (Al Michaels's words) that have wrecked the way that the media has presented sports over the last half-decade.

If you have HBO and like sports a little bit, you may have caught the special CostasNow episode which explored sports media in America today. It discussed five topics: sports talk radio, the internet, sports TV, the relationships between journalists and athletes and -- of course -- race.

During the second segment about the internet, a galvanizing exchange took place betweeen Friday Night Lights author Buzz Bissinger, and Will Leitch of Deadspin.com (full disclosure: Deadspin is my favorite sports/humor website and they were even kind enough to link me once). Bob Costas moderated the discussion, with a clear initial bias against those dastardly "bloggers." Cleveland Browns WR Braylon Edwards was there and was about as interesting as the logo on the Cleveland Browns's helmets.

If you haven't seen the clip, you simply must. Click here to view the video and get a little bit of context, but then promise me you'll come right back. I'll wait....

So if you've watched the video, the gist coming from the esteemed Mr. Bissinger was this: bloggers aren't fit to carry the pocket protectors of "real" sports journalists. Blogs are lowering the discourse. Blogs are vile and mean-spirited. [Side note: I was amused that Buzz Bissinger talked about how he had "spent the last 40 years of my life trying to perfect the craft of the written word" and then uses the phrase "this really pisses the shit outta me." Well-crafted, Buzz. Well-crafted.]

There were a couple of somewhat valid points. Many bloggers are just crap writers out to shock with lots of filthy language. In some ways a "trained writer" such as Bissinger does have more credibility than the iconic "guy sitting in his underwear in his mom's basement." (By the way, that is becoming the most hackneyed, tired cliche since "If I told you I'd have to kill you." Everyone knows that I write this in my grandaddy's outhouse.) And maybe there is something to the idea that posting camera phone pictures of Matt Leinart with a bunch of college beach bunnies is somewhat irresponsible.

But within Bissinger's hissyfit were some staggering misconceptions and misdirections. Costas was worthless in trying to moderate the debate, and as much as I think he is a pioneer in internet writing, Will Leitch didn't quite get to the guts of the reasons why I believe Deadspin and other so-called "mean-spirited" sites exist in the first place.



To wit:

• Deadspin can be extremely crass, and because it exists in the Wild West that is the internet, it often goes to the extreme. I wouldn't be surprised, in fact, if some of the more profane bloggers somewhat took Bissinger's comments to heart and concentrated less on being "edgy" and actually attempting to write better. Having said that, Buzz set up a straw-man by picking a particularly absurdist piece to be "representative" of what blogs really are. Anyone who reads Deadspin can tell you not only that Will Leitch is a gifted writer (and one with a centrist's conscience among the many goons that the internet lures), but that the commenters and comments themselves can be some of the cleverest, most side-splittingly hilarious items on any internet site, professional or not. Deadspin is not popular because it is vulgar, it is popular because under the vulgarity lies a wit that can sometimes be unparalleled on the internet. (Please note, I am not a Deadspin commenter -- although I've tried to be -- so this observation is not some sort of clandestine patting of my own back.)
  
  
• If there is one thing that YouTube has taught us, it's that Regular Folks can often come up with ideas that are as creative or more creative than so-called "creative professionals." You can find four-minute clips on YouTube that are funnier than two of the last three Will Ferrell movies. (Movies suck in general now, but that's a topic for an upcoming post.) Amateurs are getting it right, and as Leitch said in the interview, the internet is a meritocracy. Things get noticed on the internet, by and large, because they are worth noticing. (Not always of course: for everything worth seeing there are 50 "Leave Britney Alone" ladyboys.) It's the reason The Onion and Funny or Die have gained followings; and you're telling me that some of the writers on Kissing Suzy Kolber or Fire Joe Morgan aren't at least as funny as some of the hacks they trot out on VH1 every few months?
  
  My point is, you don't have to be professional to get it right. And if we have learned anything in the last few years about journalistic integrity, it's that ESPN doesn't have any. Not only have they turned SportsCenter into an unwatchable laser light show, but they have picked up the torch of pundits-yelling-at-each-other that used to belong to Hardball and Crossfire and any other similar (and since-subdued) political show, and made it more absurd by having Woody Paige and Skip Bayless yell at each other at full volume about a fucking pro football game. Honestly, when you really step back and think about it, you should calm the fuck down.
  
  And as for being a "professional journalist," I don't buy for a second that Will Leitch doesn't have every right to be heard on the same level as a terrible, race-baiting writer like Scoop Jackson. Or that just because some blogger doesn't have a press pass that his or her opinion isn't just as valid as Mike Lupica.
  
  Why isn't Buzz Bitchinger decrying the death of REAL media? Fox News is a GOP mouthpiece, run by Roger Ailes, the guy who created the Willie Horton ad campaign against Michael Dukakis in 1988. Why does Bill Fucking O'Reilly get a free pass, but A.J. Daulerio is questioned on literary merit. Why has no one called into question the journalistic cred of Bill Cunningham? Apparently you just have to be on TV, on radio, or have your work sold on a newsstand to be considered legit. I know the show was about sports, but Jesus, Bissinger, save that level of vitriol for a worthy target and not "Big Daddy Balls."
  
  
• Finally, the real reason I think that Deadspin, Kissing Suzy Kolber, Fire Joe Morgan, Awful Announcing, The Big Lead and any other number of eminently readable blogs exist is because of four letters: ESPN.
  
  ESPN used to be a sports fan's utopian dream. Sports all day and all night. For people who could literally not get enough sports, it was a godsend. And for the better part of 20 years, ESPN held up its end of the bargain, with great sports coverage and thoughtful analysis. But somewhere along the way, ESPN tried to make ESPN the central focus. Their anchors started overusing stupid catchphrases, rather than insight we started getting shrill "point/counterpoint" segments, and they began overhyping EVERYTHING, from Danny Almonte to Yankees-Red Sox to 19-0 18-1*
  
  When an entity gets so big and hubristic, it requires a reaction. Some thought it was going to be Fox Sports, but they became even more shrill and even more hellbent on cementing their own brand name. The reaction came from the internet.
  
  We (and when I say we, I mean ordinary folks) got sick to death of ESPN overhyping itself, of discontinuing criticism of "untouchable" athletes. We tired of Stuart Scott and Ahmad Rashad fighting over which would get to ingest the last drop of Michael Jordan's precious bodily fluids. We abhorred Chris Berman's once-clever but now tortured nicknames. We lamented the fact that SportsCenter -- which we could easily, and often did, watch the same repated episode multiple times in a row -- became a loud, empty shiny object.
  
  Mike and Mike became a brand name. The SportsCenter anchors started giving Belichick and Bobby Knight a free pass. Stephen A. Smith and Woody Paige became talking heads and no longer writers. What was once the greatest man-channel on the planet was now putting out a show called "ESPN Hollywood" and putting actors from "Desperate Housewives" in the booth on Monday Night Football.
  
  Deadspin and other blogs have taken the luster off and the bluster out of ESPN. What was once the de-facto king of sports has now taken on criticism from those of us who remember what it once was. No longer are we forced to accept "Quite Frankly with Stephen A. Smith." ESPN no longer makes decisions without having to deal with the consequences, which they did for so long. When you have an Evil Empire, you will have a rebellion. Deadspin is that rebellion.
  

For those of us who can't stand what ESPN or sports writing (Peter Vescey, Peter King, Mike Lupica, Rick Reilly) have become, we need the communities of Deadspin and the like to react. Those who have become too big for their britches, and too comfortable among the rarefied air of the celebrites and athletes they were once charged with reporting on, are being called to task. And if it's done with dick jokes, then so be it.

The Empire Strikes Barack

Not sure who created this but it's pretty damn cool. Worth spending the 5 minutes to check it out.