411: VH1's 'I Love the Bloggers'?

Well, guess this whole blogging phenomenon has really jumped the shark. VH1, the network for has-been celebrities, redemptive rags-to-riches-to-rags music reunion shows, and we suppose the occasional video countdown, is trying to put together a show with bloggers called HushHush (why, was Drunk in our Underpants taken?).

According to Jossip:

Last month, VH1 fired off invitations to audition to what seemed like anyone who had put their fingers on a keyboard and launched a blog mildly related to entertainment.

Try-outs were held in New York and Los Angeles over the past couple weeks, with VH1 flying in potential on-camera talent for group auditions where bloggers – many of whom had never met before – were encouraged, according to one insider, to "act like they were friends" on camera and joke around with each other like old pals. (Or, as one hopeful put it, "Act like idiots in front of a bunch of producers who [themselves] didn't know what the fuck they wanted from us.")

But while the auditions allowed the bloggers to build new social networks (we hear they're called "blogrolls"), they also gave the potential talking heads time to muse that "this type of show shouldn't be on television," says one insider.

What type of show? Essentially, a blogger roundtable that discusses the current pop culture topics — with the usual doses of forced snark and humor.

Says another put-off blogger : "It's obvious that these show producers want to capitalize on the large traffic our sites have, while getting bloggers on the cheap. I think they still see bloggers as celebrity wannabes (like Perez) but they don't understand that we're smarter than they think we are, and the lure of a 15 minute spotlight isn't quite enough anymore."

Totally. Like, fuck you, VH1. We don't need you. We're totally above crass, mainstream exposure. We want real cred, like being on a conference call with Nancy Pelosi.

That said, call us. Seriously. We guess you misplaced our number and we'd like give you a chance to make amends. We're kinda desperate for something, anything to do right now. And you have craft services, right?

DisConnected: Bob Morris Resolved To Be a Cranky Old Man

We usually like Times columnist Bob Morris, even if the highbrow homo resides in a decidedly different social strata than The Operator. But when we read his snide column on New Year's resolutions, only one question came to mind: Who pissed in his Crème fraîche?

Morris is coming at us all swinging. To Wit:

"[I]the words of our commander in chief, I’m the decider, and I decide what’s best. In a self-serving spin on tradition, here are my New Year’s resolutions. For you.

Get off the computer and back into the recliner. Networks and cable television companies are spending millions a year devising entertainment with story structure and character development to keep your attention. They’re also devising clever new ways to spin 'reality.' Show them some respect. Leave the computer and get back to the TV where you belong."

No fan of the fact we were nominated Time magazine's Person of the Year, Morris wants us (and you) to "[G]ive up the blogging. All you emo teens, militant 12 steppers, sexual conquistadors and fetishistic foodies: enough with the unsolicited opinions and diaristic diarrhea. Remember that just because something happened to you doesn’t mean that it’s interesting. There are plenty of self-important professionals like me who are paid to have opinions and rarefied tantrums for the reading public. "

Maybe so, old man, maybe so. But if we don't blog, who's going to pick on all you "self-important professionals" who put on your cranky pants before typing out your column (on a manual typewriter, no doubt) every week?

Read the full article here.

Good Call: Sock It To Me

It's not often one has the pleasure of lending their likeness to a sock puppet, but that's the honor that was bestowed on OperatorNYC recently by fellow blogger Jane Gavin. Read the tale of our puppet understudy's adventures here (and enjoy the accompanying photos). It's a fitting tribute, seeing as Sock Op drinks, smokes, and passes out on subway trains.