My sponsor at Narcotics Anonymous always says, “Tell the truth… no matter how many times you’ve ‘lied’ in the gutter.” Very punny, isn’t it?
Well, now that all the hype and hoopla has died down (and my coworkers have had time to digest the ravings of a self-purported acid casualty), I would like to amend some of the outrageous claims I made in my previous blog entry.
It seems ol’ Douche got a little carried away with the facts. Call it hyperbolic language. Call it a desperate attempt to “wow” the hardcore. Damn it, I’m calling myself out! A good 10% of that stuff I posted was a heap of cat shit.
Specifically, I would like to state for the record that I would never go to a shit den like Supercuts to get my hair frosted. That is a God-forsaken place where straight people go to be made to look like gay people pretending to be straight. Besides, I do my own frosting.
Also, I would never waste my valuable time reading David Lee Roth’s sordid memoir, Crazy From The Heat. Perish the thought. That frightful beast of a man is a dilettante whose primal howls and carrying forths could never hold a proverbial candle to the vocal stylings of his successor, the Red Rocker. That’s right. I prefer the Van Hagar end of the Van Halen saga, and should I ever read any literature involving that institution of rock, it would be Summer Of Sammy: Reflections Of A Sammy Hagar Fan by Vince Ballew.
Finally, I believe I made the spurious claim that Super Deluxe employees were going to put “on the ritz” at the launch party. Bad choice of words, it turns out. While I was using the antiquated phrase in earnest, I have since learned that “putting on the ritz” is actually code used in the 1920s for masturbation circles or something.
But as you can plainly see from these photos, everybody appears to have their pants on at the party. And the after-party.
And that is the truth.
Super Deluxe’s Grand Poobah, John Buzzell, chats with the Notorious B.R.A.D. Neely.
The lovely Alena raising the beauty bar for the rest of us.
St. Rutter and pals engage in fascinating small talk.
Adult Swim’s Drew Dominey sure likes open bars.
When the tongue comes out, it means trouble: Daniel, Zena and Ben at the post-party.
Hello, bobafred here, writing to you from the confines of the ultra-secret technology clubhouse we built for Super Deluxe using duct tape and bailing wire. Deep within the secure, cavernous confines of this fortress, Team Spectaculo—the technology arm of Super Deluxe—is working in a cramped lab tirelessly developing more features and fixing mistakes. (Not that we ever make mistakes.)
As I am one of the few members of Team Spectaculo who can formulate coherent sentences, I’ve been asked to drop by the blog every so often to keep you guys updated on all the wondrous fixes and enhancements that we have in store for Super Deluxe. Today’s update is a brief overview of our very first bug fix patch, which is now live. Enjoy.
- Size Matters: The number 1 request from our users has been that they’d like to be able to have longer passwords. We’ve listened. We now support passwords between 5 and 16 characters. If you’d like a longer password, you can update your current one on the Edit Preferences page. If you’re happy with your current password, leave it. We still respect the 5-8 character ones, too. We’re about respect here—nothing but respect.
- 9 > 3: Your profile page just got 3x better. Now you can see your last 9 uploads instead of just 3. Three is dumb. Nine is good.
- More RSS Feeds: Would you like to be able to keep up with the latest uploads from your favorite Super Deluxe user? Good. I’ve got great news! Now you can, with the magical technology that is RSS and your favorite feed reader. Just browse to their Profile or Uploads page and subscribe. Easy.
- How Many Uploads?: The Profile page also now lets you know how many videos a user has uploaded. No more counting on fingers and toes.
- View More From This User: Sometimes after I watch a funny-ass video, I want more from the same user. Back in the olden days of Super Deluxe this required two clicks. In the new and improved days, it takes only one. Just click on the “View all their uploads” link and you’re there. We’re all about efficiency.
- Embedded Video Player: There was a problem embedding our viral player in some really big Web site that a lot of people use. It’s called MySpace. I’m unfamiliar with it. We’ve made the necessary changes so that this is no longer an issue.
Of course, there are tons of other super technical behind-the-scenes things that have happened, too. I’d go into it all, but it would seriously destroy your mind. And we don’t want that. Although, that might make for some funny videos.
And that’s not all! We’re hard at work on new features and enhancements that will make the site even more kick-ass than it already is. Hard to imagine, but true.
So, until the next time they let me out of the programming dungeon, I wish you a good day.
Cel-e-brate, good times, Come on! This weekend, we here at Super Deluxe are putting down the keyboards for a moment and putting on the ritz instead. We’re throwing ourselves a full-blown fucking gala to commemorate the successful launch of our Web site.
That’s right. A butt-load of hard work has gone into this here comedy video thingy, and everyone who’s helped make it happen—from the lowliest widget operator (who also happens to run a cottage ticket-sales industry on the side) to the uppermost echelon of the Turner corporate hierarchy—has earned at least one evening’s worth of frivolity and feting, complete with two free drink tickets.
Myself, I’ve got big plans for Saturday evening. And now I’d like to share them with you. So, without further ado, I present my personal itinerary for Saturday:
Pregame
* 2:00 p.m. Go to SuperCuts to get tips of hair frosted.
* 3:30 p.m. Pick up pleather vest with matching pleather glovelets from Armani Exchange.
* 3:45 p.m. Drop by Old Navy to whack off in the dressing room; blame mess “on the rain.”
Post-pregame
* 4:10 p.m. Arrive back home.
* 4:15 p.m. Lock doors, hastily clean bowl, fluff Kryptonite.
* 4:20 p.m. Shaka, brah!
Party Preparation
* 4:30 p.m. Rehearse speech I intend to give entitled, “Launchy Laughs: Why I Don’t Think The Internet Will Break This Year.”
* 4:45 p.m. Practice acceptable-in-front-of-coworkers’-spouses dance moves.
* 4:55 p.m. Take bath in tub filled with Drakkar Noir; listen to Korn.
Pre-Dinner
* 5:00 p.m. Call up my “date,” Porkchop, to tell her the party’s been cancelled and then hang-up.
* 5:01 p.m. Call Porkchop back and say, “Psych! You’re a dyke.”
* 5:02 p.m. Call back again and tell her I’m just kidding, but if she wouldn’t mind, to hurry the fuck up.
Dinner
* 5:30 p.m. Porkchop expected to arrive at my apartment.
* 5:45 p.m. Sit down for a finely-prepared meal of something or another (must remember to buy food: Chipotle? Captain D’s?).
* 6:00 p.m. Dessert (a.k.a. anal)
Post-coital
* 6:00:30 p.m. Offer to make some chamomile tea.
* 6:05 p.m. Play “Dodge The Dutch Oven” under the sheets with Porkchop.
* 6:15 p.m. Go over the evening’s talking points with her: God (?), death and acceptable broadband video width.
Dress Up
* 6:25 p.m. Slip into my pleather outfit in front of my cat; watch cat crumple nose at the sight of my penis.
* 6:30 p.m. Mirror time! Exfoliate skin; braid facial hair; shave racing stripes into eyebrows.
* 6:40 p.m. Busy myself reading David Lee Roth’s Crazy From The Heat while Porkchop whores herself up with last-minute beauty flourishes.
Get Going
* 7:00 p.m. Pile into my brand-new 2007 H3 (shotgun!).
* 7:15 p.m. Pit stop at McDonald’s (we’re luvin’ it!); order six Snack Wraps with Ranch.
* 7:30 p.m. Doses!!
On The Road
* 7:45 p.m. Cruise around Interstate 285 listening to “Whoomp! (There It Is)” on repeat.
* @ 8:15 p.m. Peak and freak, complete with waves of nausea and impending sense that we’ve taken too much acid.
–??? p.m. We both hallucinate that we’re traveling through a giant fallopian tube; amidst much fanfare, enter the gilded kingdom of Craplar & the Jello people; check into our penthouse suite at the Royal FaceMelt Lodge overlooking the Lake of Burning Dogshit; gaze out at the famous Chocolate Kloppervok smoke stacks where smog-images of Alicia Keys emanate nightly; enjoy the soothing sounds of screaming dirt-babies piped in over the government-sanctioned radio tube; have room service deliver a platter of neon eggs and colored farts (our stomachs are weightless!); comb our breaths; peer into each others souls for eternity; shortly after, telepathically make our way into Craplar’s Grande Ballroom.
Back To Reality
* 10:56 p.m. Scream heads off as we realize we’ve careened off the interstate, and driven the Hummer into a dumpster behind a T.G.I.F.
* 10:59 p.m. Struggle to back out of the parking lot as restaurant manager calls the cops.
* 11:15 p.m. Race to the launch party in a blind panic, calling coworkers to ask, “Did everybody wear their red hoodies?”
So, there you have it. Good times will be had by all. Let’s just hope things go as planned.
To all of our fans who want to distribute our videos virally: we are sorry to inform you that there is a little technical glitch. Currently you’ll notice that our viral player no longer works on MySpace. You’ll also notice that if the video was posted previous to this past Wednesday it still works (for instance, the ones on Super Deluxe on MySpace). MySpace uses some VooDoo Magic™ to filter through posted content - otherwise known (in more technical terms) as a “parser.” Unfortunately, that new parser does not support our viral code.
Don’t worry, we worked feverishly to produce a solution for you guys. Changes on our end have been made to rectify this situation; however, due to The Man trying to keep us down, we will not be able release those changes to the masses until Tuesday.
But to quote one of the most profound poets of our time, W. Axl Rose:
“Said woman, take it slow
It’ll work itself out fine
All we need is just a little patience.
Said sugar, make it slow
And we’ll come together fine.
All we need is just a little patience.
Patience…”
In some odd way, I feel like I gave birth last week (minus the Epidural and screaming baby). Well, maybe there was some screaming involved. It’s one thing to come into an existing institution, it’s quite another when you get to create something wholly new. And Super Deluxe is just that—a brand-spanking new network that defies most conventions. We’re proud of the fact that we don’t restrict our artists and let them go off to do all the wacky things they love doing best. Just wait ’til Friday. Our premiere feature that day will blow all of your minds (just don’t say we didn’t warn you—and don’t click on if you’re prone to seizures). We’re also exceedingly proud of SD’s design, mélange of humor intended for both high- and low-brow consumption, and our ever-present hunger to collect the best videos regular folks (well, maybe not SO regular) can upload.
But even with all this pride and feeling of accomplishment, it’s impossible to kick back and relax. There’s too much comedy out there: we need to find it, capture it in binary code and exploit it to the fullest. So c’mon, folks, show us what you got (as Hova would say), upload your videos or have your manager/agent hit us up. We’re ready for you. We’re also looking forward to meeting and greeting y’all at several events like SxSW, Aspen’s Comedy Arts Festival—even Edinburgh’s Fringe Fest isn’t safe from our grubby reach. I can’t wait.
If it’s one thing that my tenure in hip-hop taught me, it’s that shout-outs go at the end. So to close this note, I’d like to thank all the wonderful people who logged on to Super Deluxe this past week (especially everyone in the Netherlands—who could’ve known?), the bloggers who used some of their bandwidth to promote and write about us and some fine people I forgot to thank the last time… Gerard and Andrea, this one’s for you.
What an awesome week it’s been! One of the best parts of the entire experience so far has been the opportunity to open up a dialogue and receive direct feedback from you about how we’re doing. While words can’t quite capture the thrill of finding something like this post out there in the tubes, the more critical feedback you’ve given us is equally as valuable. We’re listening, taking notes, debating, and designing solutions for the issues you have raised. You’ll see the network evolve over time based on what you’re telling us. Not everything will happen overnight, but we’re committed to making steady progress on improving Super Deluxe based on your commentary.
I want to personally thank all of you that have taken time to e-mail us and post on the SD blog. Some of you we’ve had the pleasure of corresponding with nearly every day. Nothing could be more fun and gratifying for us. Please keep the feedback coming and don’t be shy about telling us what’s wrong! At the end of the day, what we really want to do is to deliver a network that you love, that you can’t wait to watch, that you want to tell your friends about. The best way for us to get there is have a conversation with you.
Have fun watching and know that we’re watching, too. Post your comments here on the blog or contact us.
Welcome to Super Deluxe. Though I was probably the last cog to join this shiny, new machine, my beaming pride is nonetheless equal to those who’ve been working diligently on it for the past year. What you’re looking at is the start of something wonderful. More than a Web site, Super Deluxe is a bona fide broadband network aimed at making you laugh ’til milk comes out of your nose, drastically reducing your productivity at work - and getting you so hooked on our irreverent brand of comedy that you’ll need to log on daily as if your oxygen supply depended on it.
But this is only the beginning. (C’mon, did you really think we’d blow our whole load this week?) Though we’re intensely proud of everything you see here today, there’s so much more to come. Not only will we be updating daily, but we also intend on expanding into an all-inclusive entertainment powerhouse with reach into platforms such as mobile, video on-demand and podcasting.
Even right f’n now, we’re wheeling and dealing with everyone from A-list Hollywood comedians to that loner weirdo from your local Jamba Juice. You know the one - he goes home and channels his rage into oddball flash-animation strips to bemuse you. Our goal is to create content that’s a harmonious - and hilarious - middle ground between those two extremes.
The other beautiful thing about Super Deluxe is that even you, mere plebian, can join the party. We welcome you to put your best video up on our People page and start your own cult following; or simply become a member and enjoy the ride.
Finally, it would be unfair to exclude shout-outs to the brains (and characters who’d give even our top talent a run for their money) behind Super Deluxe: Buzz and Drew, the bo$$es with hearts of gold; our creative design team; the content crew; my editorial peoples; the ATL-Russian mob; our community leaders, Strutter and Erlene; Team Spectaculo; the Lords of Williams St. and the entire launch team. Thanks to each and every one of you for giving up your weekends, putting in countless late nights and welcoming this Brooklyn girl into the fold.
Sit back, click and laugh.
Zena “Pusha Z” Tsarfin
Managing Editor, Super Deluxe
“Don’t fuck it up,” our fearless leader always jokes. It’s become something of a mantra here as we’ve toiled away for many months designing and building
Super Deluxe. This is an exciting and proud moment for me, and for everyone who worked late hours out of love and a slightly creepy devotion to finally release our precious to you. I hope that as you watch and interact with our content and community, you’ll feel our passion for technology, sense our admiration for comedy and connecting the people who love it.
It’s insane to look back and realize just how quickly the idea developed from cafeteria-napkin notes to the fully functional, multi-platform network you see now. I remember sipping coffee from a ridiculously thin paper cup on my first day, looking around at the seven familiar faces skirting the table and thinking two things. One: this Super Deluxe concept has the potential to be the best damn thing EVER, given the intense drive to innovate the sandbox in which we’ve all played for many, many (embarrassingly many) years; and two: you’d think this company had enough money to get some better cups!
Now, we have more people than I can count on my fingers and toes, with each and every member in the family just as dedicated as the next. I’ve learned that finding gifted people isn’t all that difficult - it’s finding people who share an oddball sense of humor who also “get it” when it comes to technology that’s damn near impossible. But somehow we managed to pull it off. And really, that’s the best part about Super Deluxe. We work hard together; but we play even harder together.
The network and the team that built it has morphed and grown, and, like
Renee Zellweger, we’re prepared to expand and slim down as our roles demand it. Yet oddly, even through all the changes in the past and those to come, it’s still refreshing to know the legacy of those crappy cheap coffee cups lives on. So pour yourself a drink in one of our paper cups, kick back in the cut with a video while we keep getting more retardedly sick shit for you to watch and interact with. Just don’t fuck it up.
A few months ago, I was out of work and full of shit. I had just finished an eight-month stint of calling myself a producer at parties and found myself staring into a dark tunnel of occupational uncertainty. My master plan of drinking alone and talking to myself had failed to yield any prospects.
After falling off of a bicycle, I decided to proclaim myself a graphic artist and move to Portland. It only took a few weeks and twice as many drinks before I realized my new goal in life had about as much chance of producing favorable results as being an art major or hitting on a waitress. I decided instead to hyperventilate. After all, I had just turned 32 and the only thing I saw happening down my road was the possible fruition of a Ouija board’s prediction that I would die when I was 32.
Suddenly, my phone rang. Now, I typically don’t answer my phone because I’m a prick. I also don’t like to return calls because that’s exactly what they’d expect me to do. In fact, the only reason I have a phone is on the off chance that it may occasionally lead to sex.
I ignored my mood and answered the phone. It was a friend I’ve known since we met. He wanted to know if I had grown up and officially told my hopes and dreams to fuck off yet. I told him I had and that I had also switched from large shirts to medium. He went on to remind me that I am one of the funniest and most creative people in the universe and that I should think about a job that wouldn’t require me to utilize either of those traits.
He went on to describe a broadband comedy network called Super Deluxe that Turner was going to launch from Atlanta the day after his birthday and that he would really like some new video games. I mentioned that his birthday probably wasn’t a key factor in the site’s launch and that he should stop dropping hints; I wasn’t going to get him anything. The job was called “Content Production Manager Extreme,” which meant that I would be able to determine what most of the drawers in my desk would be used for. He asked me if I was interested.
The thought of returning to my hometown of Atlanta was almost as deflating as the awareness that I would have to move back in with my parents temporarily. I shrugged these thoughts off and decided to focus on the fact that, thankfully, the job wasn’t in Alabama. Mere days later, I flew to Atlanta to wait for the corporate machine to sort through a few other applications. I sat in my parents’ basement and watched as time slowly passed. Finally, by mid-October, the powers that be offered me the job, mentioning strange, new concepts such as “benefits” and “job satisfaction.”
Starting work right away, I promptly kicked someone out of his office and started throwing my weight around. It took three days before the power absolutely corrupted me, and they demoted me, stripping the word extreme from my title. It was another four days before they asked to turn in my keys to the executive stapler. Finally, I settled down and settled in, which I’m told is exactly the sort of thing a 32-year-old man should do.
So, I’ve successfully managed to burrow myself here into Super Deluxe. Contrary to the impression I get, I am sure both my opinions and I are respected and appreciated. Thanks to me, dry-erase boards around the office are up by 67 percent, morale is down, and mandatory sensitivity seminars are up. Not to mention my “Spreadsheet of the Day” is a huge hit. My saving grace is that no one really understands what I do enough to realize I’m not doing it very well.
Still, I have to admit that Super Deluxe would probably have turned out just fine if I hadn’t come along, but if Super Deluxe hadn’t come along, I’d probably be wandering the streets of Portland, drinking rubbing alcohol, and having sex with parking meters, with nothing but the medium-sized shirt on my back.
So, thank you, Super Deluxe.
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