Thank you for writing to TiVo, Inc. We are always delighted to hear from our subscribers, particularly when they offer us an opportunity to address concerns and improve TiVo service. Certainly, your letter qualifies. In it, you state that your TiVo is programmed to automatically record three programs every week: 24, WWE Raw, and UFC – The Ultimate Fighter. Based on these regularly recorded programs, as well as one-time only recordings like UFC 76: Knockout, the Tivo Suggestions function has recommended other programming it believes you will like. According to your letter, most of these suggestions are logical, although you do not always watch them. For example, TiVo suggested that you watch WWE Friday Night Smackdown! because you like WWE Raw, although you declined, feeling that “the plotlines are pedestrian and don’t move the human spirit” in the same way that WWE Raw does.

However, you expressed concern and even outrage at some of the other programming suggestions TiVo made for you. In particular, Hannah Montana seemed to trouble you. You spent three pages ranting about the show, which TiVo suggested to you five times. In those pages, you berated TiVo for thinking you could enjoy a “stupid kids show” that features “some annoying 14-year old Disneyfied, popstar wannabe.” Apparently you felt particularly betrayed upon learning that Billy Ray Cyrus also starred, writing that you “actually ripped out a car radio and threw it on the highway” when your favorite radio station played “Achy Breaky Heart” during the height of its popularity.

However, Hannah Montana features some striking similarities with your programmed shows, like 24. Both Billy Ray Cyrus and Kiefer Sutherland share gritty good looks and faces weathered by lives of action. Additionally, themes of fatherhood and daddy-daughter relationships are prevalent in the two shows. Perhaps most telling, both Hannah Montana and 24 feature high concepts that force the viewers to deal with the shows on their own terms: 24 illustrates the tension inherent in confining a show’s events to one day, Hannah Montana illustrates the tension inherent in a teenager trying to straddle normal life and pop superstardom. The list of similarities goes on and on.

Additionally, complicated and tumultuous relationships are the centerpiece of Hanna Montana, much like they are on WWE Raw. The strained relationship between ex-paramours Hannah Montana and boy-movie-star Jack Ryan closely resembles the tumultuous and often violent relationship between ex-lovers Lita and Kane, particularly after Lita flushed his engagement ring down a toilet and attempted to have sex with Edge in the middle of the ring. I might add that the prominence of theme music on both shows is another indication that these shows are more alike than you think.

Finally, one of the most important themes in UFC – The Ultimate Fighter is fame. Contestants on the show must deal with their own expectations of winning a six-figure, 9-fight deal that ensures them a spot on Ultimate Fighting pay-per-view events and all the attention that comes with it. Similarly, Miley Stewart, Hannah Montana’s alter ego, must cope with the strain of hiding her famous, popstar identity while living as a normal teenager. I think you’ll find that when viewing these programs with that theme in mind, they are almost the same show, except that The Ultimate Fighter has more blood.

Mr. Markham, I hope that this letter addresses your concerns and convinces you to embrace the programs that TiVo Suggestions has recommended to you. We here at TiVo, Inc. stand behind that function’s ability to know what you want even more than you do. Remember, your TiVo gets you.

Regards,
Michael Poryes,
TiVo Customer Relations

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John Frank Weaver is the pen name of a fictitious writer dreamed up by an infinite number of typewriter-pounding monkeys, which were created by Émile Borel, a physicist featured in a Wikipedia entry written by someone named John Frank Weaver.

One two, one two, keep those legs going. Take long strides. For every baby-step you take, believe in fact your foot is crushing a baby – a cute one with blue eyes and curls.

Jam your arm into the elevator; do not let them go without you. If you accidentally punch someone, maybe they shouldn’t have had their face there.

When you get to the ground floor, make sure no one gets out before you. People like to push and shove to get out first because they are impatient. You don’t have time for those jerks.

Zip out the revolving door and either find a cabbie with a treadmill built into the backseat or start running. Letting your adrenaline fade now will only leave you weak and defenseless.

You’ve sprinted five city blocks and need a pick-me-up. Pull into the nearest Starbucks drive-thru. Start making “vroom vroom” sounds. The cashier will only believe you if you put enough feeling into it. Ask yourself, “Do I feel like a car?” If the answer is no, you’re not putting enough feeling into it.

Pay the cashier with either a credit card or barrage her with a fist full of quarters. Either way, take your coffee and pop off the top. Unhinge your jaw and chug it down. The reason it is scalding is so you can tell its working.

Charge into the pet shelter and adopt all the cats on death row. You’re giving back to animals that instinctively claw your face. Hurl them into the red sack in the corner and sling it over your shoulder. If anyone asks, you’re Cat Santa.

Chuck your merry bag in front of a speeding semi. Yes, there should be a satisfying squish. Grab the bag now and scramble over to your job at Animal Control. Pop the bloodied bag on your boss’s desk and fulfill your road kill quota for the day.

Run back home. Your wife should still be in bed. Give her a quicky. In fact, you should be so fast that even you are surprised. Inform her that she is now pregnant. If the baby does not fully gestate in three months, suggest an abortion. You will have no slackers in your family.

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The only known picture of Remington circulating the web is that of him trying to swallow a hamster whole (a feat he accomplished with much zeal). Since then, Remington has moved up the food chain and plans to name his future Welsh Corgis Hamster (calling it Hamster will help with digestion). Currently Remington resides in the little part of your brain that took A Modest Proposal seriously, if only for a second.

Frank Sinatra wants to take your ape to the picture show because he has some extra money and he is inclined to do so. Allow him to do this. He will comport himself in a manner befitting the most respectful courtier. He takes a casual approach to apes; maybe a bite to eat at the club before the picture show, maybe not. It could be he’ll just buy candy and pop and then watch a movie with her.

Just when will Frank Sinatra make a move on me, your ape will ponder, its hind quarters wedged between unyielding armrests never meant for the audacity of ape-hips. Your ape will not really be watching the movie; it will want to give Frank Sinatra a blow job. Wait! It is okay; Frank will place a finger beneath her chin and gently guide it back to eye level. The music of his stare will say something like “Hey, not now, ape; but later, definitely, in the cab.”

Then your ape will begin to speak; Frank Sinatra will slap your ape because he is in no mood for your ape’s emotional trash. “Eyes in front!” he’ll whisper. His finger, still resting beneath her chin, will slowly guide her head back towards the movie screen.

Frank Sinatra will turn back to the movie and watch it; your ape will watch the movie, too, but she won’t remember any of it because she will by this point be whipped up into a brilliant sexual frenzy.

During a sad scene Frank Sinatra will appear sullen and your ape will seize the opportunity to show sympathy by gently grabbing his hand and bringing it up to her cheek. He will recoil because even though she is clean shaven, her face still bears post-meridian stubble and crude tool marks; as grim a portent as the long shadows on the jowls of a five o’clock matador…then, as if this will solve everything, she will ask for a quickie in the coatroom. Frank Sinatra will shrug his arm away and light a cigarette. He will blow smoke at the screen and then point to it with an outstretched hand as though he has opened a cosmic door wherein lays the answer to some ancient riddle. But he only wants to watch the movie.

Please, ape, the movie.

Apes don’t get Chlamydia, so don’t worry. He will whisper this to your ape after the movie.

Frank Sinatra will be telling the truth; well, at least he is fairly certain that apes can’t get Chlamydia. After the picture show though, probably the very next day, Eric, you should get your ape tested for Chlamydia.

Your ape has been reading ‘Common Sense’ by Thomas Paine and will want to discuss it with Frank Sinatra. Frank Sinatra will say that personality is the accumulation of small disasters over time; passion, how you react to them, the manifestation of the soul as it herniates through the interstices of a fragmented mind. Your ape will struggle to find a connection between what he said and what she has gleaned from the two pages of ‘Common Sense’ she’s read; it is a limitation of apes to try to connect irrelevancies. Frank Sinatra knows this.

Frank Sinatra will tell a funny joke and your ape will accidentally inhale some hair from her wig and it will get stuck in the gum that she’s chewing. This will be awkward for your ape, but Frank Sinatra will laugh as if possessed of three mouths and then toss back a gimlet of bourbon. He will take your ape home. You will be surprised to see her back before curfew.

Frank Sinatra will remain in the taxi cab as your ape walks herself to your front door. Your ape will stumble and fall into the zinnias as she looks back at the cab and Frank Sinatra will see this and smile…a smile that’s there and then gone; evaporative, leaving his face cool and empty. His smile is in the air somewhere, floating on the current of a turbulent night as might the poorly clothes pinned underwear of a dashing madman.

Poor coquettish ape; she writhes in the zinnias, teasing the air while you, poor Eric, croon into an empty trashcan, a poor man’s Dean Martin. Hard myriad life, driven to manic disregard for what love really is, thinking you’ve found it…

Frank Sinatra is whistling in the cab…”sometimes a smile and a fuck is all you got, baby…”

The cab driver isn’t listening; he has on giant headphones.

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Sean Ruane has been published or has work forthcoming in Thieves Jargon, Monkeybicycle, decomP, Oragami Condom, Eyeshot, Sien Und Werden, 3 A.M Magazine, Elimae, and other places. He writes shit in a grad program at Johns Hopkins University.

Sorry boys, the polyester doughboy look is out. Take Det. Eliot Stabler. He’s transformed the thinning hair dad gig into a meow-fest. Remember Season V Episode vii? Sure, it was late. 3 AM as we recall. Stabler was called in to investigate a cheerleader sodomized by an Anthrax-infested spirit stick. Now, he coulda just thrown on some old sweatpants, but no, he hit that crime scene in slim-cut jeans and a slinky sports-jacket. Nice clean shave — casual, but not sloppy. No time, you say? We don’t mean to sound callous, but you can’t unsodomize someone. You might as well take that extra minute to accessorize.

We admit the job requires pragmatic considerations. We’ll never forget the (only!) time Det. Olivia Benson wore that white Victorian gown to a dominatrix bust. Even the great ones make mistakes, and we have to say, it was sad to watch a tough investigator dressed for a tea party. When Benson pursued Mistress Sultana down the fire escape, her skirt caught and ripped. There went $500 worth of hand-tatted lace and let’s not talk about what happened at the morgue later when Dr. Tamara Tunie M.E. fired up that Stryker saw.

Okay, so pastels and whites are out for obvious reasons. Stick with your muted tones: bruise, cremain, exit wound maroon and charred femur. Not only does the Goth palette absorb the stains, it creates the right mood. Mysterious. Down to business. Deep. You might think just because the hues are dim that the look is weak. So not true. Think texture! Think layering! And fit. You wouldn’t believe the heat generated from a tailored shirt that hugs your sweet bod like Det. Odafin “Fin” Tutuola on the tail of a necrophiliac. Hot isn’t always a crotchless red leather pantsuit. That Frederick’s of Hollywood stuff is strictly amateur. (Not to say we’re anti-leather).

We’re guessing about now you feel inspired. Go ahead, next arrest don slacks with an undisclosed percentage of Lycra. Bend down slowly as you examine that piece of evidence on the ground, and don’t forget to pause for a searing gaze on the horizon. Yeah, that’s right. Everyone is checking you out, too. And one more thing, lose the athletic shoes. Boots are great way to look snazzy while you keep the pant cuffs out of blood pools. They clack with sass across those courtroom tiles, and come in handy if you need to kick a child pornographer in the face.

Ready to take sexy back? Get out your pencil and take this little SVU Fashion Quiz.

1) A prostate is found in a mailbox. You show up to investigate in: a) Your hot little polka dot chiffon number b) LL Bean whale pants and a dickie c) A tight gray shirt and black trench coat.

2) Time for the arrest! You shove the perp against the car in your: a) Mohair poncho b) Parachute pants and one sequined glove c) Skinny jeans, snug ribbed tee and calf-length riding boots.

3) The interrogation room is steaming up. A eight-year old pimp has been whoring his playgroup, but he won’t tell. The punk looks at you and sees: a) The lost member of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band b) An aging frat boy in a peach button-down c) A law enforcer filling out a pair of worsted trousers with such conviction the little creep’s got to confess.

Now that you’ve read your fashion rights, go clean up the streets and kick some couture ass.

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Kelly Kathleen Ferguson is the living reincarnation of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Her interests include freshly churned butter, poke bonnets and wild black ponies.