Looking back at all my "Ting Talks" articles, I realize I haven't really said anything of worth - nothing that hasn't already been said by professional bloggers anyway.
A more apt title for this column would have been "Ting Talks about Her Thoughts and Feelings on Entertainment Minutiae" but you can imagine how terribly unsexy that sounds as a column name.
Columns I wish I had thought to write include "Ring a Ting," a take-no-shit advice column, and "Mingling Ting a Ling," in which I venture forth to test the acceptability of my social skills.
I can't complain too much, though, since "Ting Talks" has been a self-indulgent run of articles exploiting The News-Letter's tolerance of my own self-importance.
A few of my best and brightest articles have been on Willow Smith's "Whip My Hair," Downton Abbey, scandalous celebrity nudes on the Internet and, randomly, New York Fashion Week.
There have been weird fallouts from my very biased diatribes. Most reactions tend towards mild bewilderment over how many hours I log while aimlessly trawling the Internet.
The most outlandish reaction has definitely been getting a LinkedIn request from Jason Eng after writing a comparison of Just Jared and Perez Hilton, two entertainment gossip sites.
That's right, Just Jared's brother wanted to "friend me" via social networking tool. No word yet from Perez Hilton.
With all the wacky crap that's gone on, whether in my head or physical reality, it's no wonder that I approach my final "Ting Talks" with a sense of relief as well as regret. Will I miss putting out the plethora of emotions I have about, say, Beyonc?? and Jay-Z and baby Blue? Yes. I'm self-centered enough to think that people want to read what I write.
Will you as readers miss me? Probably not. But I'm okay with that.
In any case, I'm going to take full advantage of this being my final installation to the three-semester journey that has been "Ting Talks" and ramble on for approximately 800 words. As I do.
So sometimes I do this thing in my head where I pit one celebrity brother against the other brother in a celebrity stardom showdown, and try to analyze who would win. In a more organized world, I would have intense March Madness brackets for all of the celebrity siblings I obsess over, but I have neither the time nor the inclination to do so.
Instead, I'll just focus on all that fraternal love floating around Hollywood.
Let's talk about the Hemsworths, Chris and Liam. You know, those big, beefy blond dudes you see lighting up big screens everywhere?
For the longest time, it was older brother, Chris Hemsworth, who had the more legitimate acting career, starring in the big budget super hero franchise as Thor, God of Thunder. But with the release of The Hunger Games to theaters this past March, younger brother Liam seems to be moving up the ranks of stardom, quickly gaining ground on the hammer-wielding God.
What tips me over to Chris's side is, well, the arm candy - the women they bring to the award show junkets.
Chris brings his wife, Elsa Pataky, a Spanish beauty that attended journalism school, while Liam brings Disney star Miley Cyrus, whose recent accomplishments include sexy cage-dancing in 2010's radio hit "Can't Be Tamed."
Let's just call a square a square, and admit Chris wins this round. Liam, dude, Miley? Really?
The other terrible twosome I want to assess is the Wilson brothers, the blond Owen Wilson and the darker haired Luke. Perhaps this is an unfair cage match.
Even knowing that Owen Wilson is a pseudo-intellectual (he graduated from UT-Austin with a degree in English), I can't help but feel that his mane of flowing gold locks hides a particularly small brain.
Having only seen him in Night at the Museum and Midnight in Paris, I can say with little authority that Owen Wilson makes movies stupider.
His portrayal of a jaded writer in Midnight in Paris considerably tarnished the otherwise polished film.
Thus, when faced with a choice between the brother, I say decisively, I choose you, Luke Wilson.
What other brothers dominate the film and television industry? Well, the Afflecks, for one. Though America was introduced to the duo in 1997's Good Will Hunting as cousins marauding through the streets of Boston, Ben and Casey have since gone their separate ways.
Ben, the more established actor with titles like Armeggedon, Shakespeare in Love, Pearl Harbor and Dogma under his belt, has nonetheless faded into the background in recent history. I'm sad to say it's probably due to the family man in him.
His marriage to Jennifer Garner seems to have shifted his priorities towards fatherhood and beardedness.
Casey, on the other hand, seems to be on the rise, receiving an Oscar nod for his work in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford in 2007.
As director of mockumentary I'm Still Here, Casey is also responsible for that time Joaquin Phoenix went insane (Phoenix's aimless actions were attributed to the film, in which he attempted to live the life of a rapper in one short year).
Casey, we give this round to you, but if Ben ever wants to start acting seriously again, I would reassess.
It's been real, guys. I challege you to fill my sassy celebrity culture shoes in future issues, to have super important thoughts and feelings. Signing off, for the last time, Hsia-Ting Chang.
Published by the Students of Johns Hopkins since 1896
November 22, 2024
