A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

"I don't read books."

C.S. Lewis Jr. endorses George W. Bush.

No word on his upcoming tour with Frank Looby.

"Call me Snake."

The funny thing about this story is that an 8-foot python is relatively tame compared to some of the other potentially lethal fauna living in the Houston area:

A northwest Houston movie house has temporarily closed its doors after a maintenance worker reported seeing an 8-foot snake slithering along the wall of a theater auditorium, the company said Wednesday. A janitor was cleaning the Tinseltown movie theater on the Northwest Freeway about 2 a.m. Sept. 22 when he spotted a snake about as thick as a man's arm between the first row of seats and the screen, said Terrell Falk, vice president of marketing and communications for Cinemark USA Inc.

"As soon as he saw it, he left," she said.

"I think everyone who was working left."

I blame Hollywood for the animal's escape. A lifetime's worth of exposure to snake defamation in movies has obviously colored the poor janitor's perception to the point he actually thinks an 8-foot python can chase him, rip the still-beating heart from his chest, and show it to him before he dies.

Or maybe I'm getting my movies confused.

The theater opened for its afternoon screenings on schedule, about 10 hours after the sighting.

But as soon as the corporate office heard about the incident, the local management halted all movies in progress, gave customers refunds or rain checks and cleared out the building, said Falk.

"We don't know what it is, or if it is still there," she said, "but just to be cautious, we thought we should close the building."

Why? Unless you're in the habit of leaving your infant or small pets unattended - in the theater - for long periods of time, what's the danger of this snake doing anything besides possibly scaring the bejeezus out of a bunch of people watching First Daughter? And wouldn't it serve them right?

Texas Snakes and More, a Houston-based company that removes snakes and shows homeowners how to keep their abodes snake-free, also has been put on the case.

The company's owner set up children's plastic booster seats and small glue traps Wednesday around the edges of the building, office manager Michelle Pustejovsky said.

Evidence that the booster seats or glue traps have moved, she explained, would indicate a snake is in the building.

Or a big rat. Or those meddling kids. Or the mysterious disfigured man driven into the catacombs below the theater years ago, yet who returns to terrorize the patrons and secure the love of Christine, the lovely snack bar attendant.

If the traps show no movement today, she said, officials must consider three possibilities.

Either the reported sighting was a joke, the snake found its way out of the building or it is hiding in a remote location and probably won't come out again.

Pustejovsky said it is unlikely that a boa constrictor or python would have wandered into the theater on its own. She said if one is found in the theater, it probably was brought in by someone or let loose near the building.

You guys are overlooking the obvious answer. In true William Castle fashion, the makers of Anacondas have started a program where they release a live snake into theaters showing the film. As with other cinematic innovations like "Percepto", "Smell-O-Vision", and "Sensurround", this new gimmick (tentatively dubbed "Boa Howdy") is probably doomed to fail, but how we will know unless these cowardly Cinemark suits give it a chance?

"And you look like a bucket of shit."

Attended the Shark Tale screening tonight. It's what you'd expect, only more so.

Anyway, as I'm returning to the theater with my drink (having taken the time to secure a seat with my trusty notebook), I'm intercepted by a woman who identifies herself as the publicist. We exchange pleasantries, and when I ask why she stopped me, she replies, "You look like a press person."

I wasn't really sure how to take that, so I chuckled and said, "Gee, thanks." And that was pretty much the end of it. As the movie started, however, and Will Smith wowed us once again with his ca-razy antics, I found myself wondering how she so easily picked me out and came up with a list of possibilities:

1. Scruffy in appearance
2. Surly looking
3. Vague air of unwarranted superiority
4. Lack of appreciable personal hygiene and/or fashion sense
4. Lack of partner
5. Lack of children

I comforted myself with the hope that it was those last two, and not something else. Just as I comforted myself during the film's 90-minute running time that there was greater evil happening somewhere else in the world.

In the land of the no-talent ass clown, the half-talent ass clown will be king

I know most of your belly buttons have been puckering and unpuckering all week in anticipation of the presidential debates, which will no doubt answer everyone's searing questions (Will Kerry reassert his love of NASCAR? Will Bush tell us what kind of tree he'd like to be?) Therefore, in the interests of time and homeland security, APCB is offering this rapid-fire celebrity update.

First, news of a Spaceballs sequel:

Mel Brooks revealed in a recent interview with Playbill magazine that he is working on a sequel to his 1987 Star Wars spoof, Spaceballs, the Ain't-It-Cool-News Web site reported. "I'm writing myself back into the Spaceballs sequel that I'm now writing, so you haven't seen the last of my face," Brooks said. "Why another Spaceballs? It wouldn't feel right to have anyone else play Yoghurt, and the first one was the best experience I've had making a movie since Blazing Saddles."

The only good news that sifts out of this announcement is that Brooks isn't actually doing a sequel to Blazing Saddles. Or Young Frankenstein. Or High Anxiety. It's unclear when Brooks lost his mind, comedy-wise, but it was definitely right around the time History of the World, Pt. 1 came out. Spaceballs, like History, had a few inspired moments, which only served to accentuate how bad his later movies became.

A more pressing question: who will play Barf?

No time for that now. How's that Johnny Cash biopic coming along?

Actor Joaquin Phoenix broke down on the set of his latest movie and started banging his head against a wall - because a scene reportedly sparked memories of his brother River Phoenix's tragic death. The Village star - who was 19 when his brother died of a drug overdose outside Los Angeles nightclub The Viper Room in 1993 - is currently filming Johnny Cash biopic Walk the Line. Sources say Phoenix had to be taken away in an ambulance after references to the horrific death of Cash's younger brother Jack in an electrical tool accident caused him to freak out. Phoenix's publicist denies that the star is having a breakdown, but there are rumors the film's location may have to be switched from Memphis, Tennessee to Hollywood, to make Phoenix more comfortable.

There's that rebel spirit the Man in Black would've been proud of. Considering how dissimilar death by electric tool accident is from OD-ing on heroin and cocaine, I have to wonder if reading the obituaries sets Joaquin off as well. No matter, what's a little authenticity compared to coddling an actor who knows, in his heart of hearts, that everybody thought River was the talented one in the family?

Hey Bruce Campbell, what's the word on the next Evil Dead movie?

Are there any plans to make an Evil Dead IV?

No.

Yow. Brusque.

Finally, Jimmy Fallon discusses his place in the universe:

''I don't see myself aging well. I'm going to be the guy watching reruns of 'Saturday Night Live' alone in his apartment, weeping softly while putting wrinkle cream around his eyes and self-injecting Botox,'' Fallon tells October's Playboy magazine.

''My living room will be covered with 8,000 copies of the 'Best of Jimmy Fallon' DVD, because I'll be the only one who bought it.''

I don't have much to add to his sentiments, except to say I hope Fallon never hits such a low spiritual and emotional point. With any luck, he'll have died years before in an unfortunate accident involving a BASE jumping harness, several lemurs, and a jumbo bottle of Magic Shell.

If memory serves

I'd like to say I "forgot" to mention my review of The Forgotten was up at Film Threat, but they wisely decided to run with a review of The Motorcycle Diaries and then (belatedly) my Silver City review. So the latest one actually went up Monday. You didn't miss much.

Don't believe me? Read for yourself.

Disastros no longer?

Went to the Cardinals-Astros game tonight (Houston won 2-1). From the perspective of a Cards fan, it was disappointing watching our crushers get handled by the likes of Brandon Backe. But then, we threw Haren out there and he held Houston to two runs, and I'm reasonably sure he won't be making too many appearances in the playoffs.

Oh please oh please.

Nice vision, by the way, Mr. Home Plate Cyclops, who called Reggie Sanders out at home on a throw from Beltran. I knew something was up when they didn't replay the play on the Jumbotron, but any suspicion that I was merely being a St. Louis homer went out the window on the drive home when I listened to the postgame radio guy state that catcher Brad Ausmus "clearly missed" the tag. Not much you can do about it, but maybe they were making up for that weird first inning call when Ausmus was trying to throw Pujols out at first and ended up hitting Edmonds' bat and sending the ball into the stands. Pujols went to 3rd, and I thought I was going to get severely beaten, even though I didn't know exactly what was going on at the time.

People can talk about the Cards laying down now that they have the division sewn up, but LaRussa trotted out a gimpy Rolen (until the 6th), Pujols, Edmonds, and Walker (whose HR off the New York Mercantile Exchange sign in left field was a beautiful thing), and used Mabry and Womack as well. The conspiracy theory that St. Louis is letting the Astros catch the Cubs (who lost to Cincinatti) is stupid since I can't imagine anyone looking forward to facing Clemens and Oswalt in the post-season.

But enough about the game, what about the Minute Maid Park experience?

There was a decent sized crowd, and most stayed until the end, which is a rarity for Houston baseball fans. There were still those clueless boobs who kept trying to start a wave during the Astros at-bat in the 6th (I'm sure Jeff Kent was thrilled), and - while it's hardly exclusive to Minute Maid - those goddamed inflatable whacking sticks are going to drive me to commit an aggravated felony one of these days. Why not just give the whole stadium air horns and cowbells and be done with it?

I thoroughly enjoyed meeting the guy who brought his son down from St. Louis just for this game and had seats next to mine. Seems they're on a father-son mission to visit every ballpark, which is cool no matter how you slice it, or whichever team you root for. They were pretty impressed with the stadium, even if most parks comapre favorably to Busch Stadium, and the boy seemed to have a little trouble handling his burrito.

There were actually a decent number of Cardinals fans in my particular area (section 132 - left field). And all of them apparently live within five miles of my grandparents.

The roof was open the whole game, and it was a fine evening, loss or no. There were only a few jackass fans, some of whom started the chant, "Cardinals Suck" as that scrub Reyes loaded the bases in the 8th (Ray King came on and put and end to that). The only tense moment was when I turned around to ask them who won the NL Central.

It's not a trick question.

But I'd sure like it if the Cards were playing a little better down the stretch.

Texas Tuesdays - 09/28/2004

Today's featured candidate on Texas Tuesdays is Martin Frost, who's running in the redistricted 32nd Congressional District against DeLay crony Pete Sessions.

There's an overview of the race here, and a conversation with the Frost campaign here.

Setting Son

Jay Farrar and Son Volt are reuniting for a new album and tour:

Roots-rock outfit Son Volt has reunited and is about to begin work on a new studio album.

Group members Jay Farrar, Dave and Jim Boquist and Mike Heidorn recently ended a five-year hiatus to record a track for the Alejandro Escovedo (news) tribute album, "Por Vida." The group is planning to return to the road next year.

"It felt like we hit the ground running," Farrar says. "Five years seemed like five days at that point. It proved that more recording and performing as Son Volt is something that should happen."

Son Volt's last studio album was 1998's "Wide Swing Tremolo," which peaked at No. 93 on the Billboard 200. Farrar's most recent solo release was the live collection "Stone, Steel & Bright Lights," issued in June on his own Transmit Sound label.

Nice to hear, but I'm not really that excited by the news, frankly. I said somewhere, sometime, that Jay Farrar was one of the best at what he does, but what he does isn't very fresh or original. Don't get me wrong, there are fantastic songs on Trace and Wide Swing Tremolo, but they all tend to sound the same. Unlike Wilco, the band helmed by Farrar's Uncle Tupelo bandmate Jeff Tweedy, Son Volt doesn't seem very interested in evolving or experimenting musically. Not to say I want them to start sounding like Death Cab for Cutie, but stretching themselves once in a while couldn't hurt.

And certainly any new album by a band not associated with the new wimp punk movement, jailbait divas, or Nashville is a good thing. I just don't think I'm as jonesed about it as some people are.

In the Year 2009

Everybody hear about the coming regime change at the Tonight Show?

NBC's Tonight Show host Jay Leno will retire at the end of his current five-year contract in 2009 and be replaced by Late Night host Conan O'Brien, the network said Monday.

O'Brien signed a new contract Monday that guarantees he will assume the job as host of America's top-rated late night talk show, The Tonight Show, sometime during the 2009 season. Leno took over the show from Johnny Carson in May 1992. By the time he steps down, he will have hosted the program for more than 17 years.

Which is about 16.5 years too long. Back in my heady childless days of yore, I watched Conan O'Brien. He continued the anarchic streak in late night that disappeared when Letterman moved up an hour, but don't count on that continuing when Conan takes over for Leno. And you can sure as hell say goodbye to the Masturbating Bear and Pimpbot 5000, as well as guests who won't get a sniff of the new time slot (Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson).

Unlike the Leno version, however, I'll actually watch the occasional Conan-helmed Tonight Show, if only to see if taking over at 10:30 makes him as unfunny and sycophantic as the Human Chin.

Another situation in which the withdrawal method may not be reliable

Best headline from yesterday's New York Times:

"What if America Just Pulled Out?"

Obvious Joke Answer: Iraq would still be fucked. I'm not sure whether it was writer Roger Cohen or the NYT's copy editors who came up with the title, but I got a laugh out of it.

Which was a good thing, because the article isn't funny at all.

Bad TV Ponderings - Joe Pantoliano

It would seem that reviews coming in for the new TV series Dr. Vegas are somewhat less than encouraging. Variety sets the tone by calling it "an ill-conceived medical franchise providing further evidence that some things that happen in Vegas really should stay in Vegas" (a joke that most reviewers, notorious for our their lack of creativity, seem to be parroting).

Having seen the previews, I can't say that this is all that surprising. Rob Lowe has elevated committing career suicide to an art form, though the fact that he can still get work proves we're all willing to forgive a celebrity that takes Huey Long's old "dead girl/live boy" adage to heart, even if the live girl they're caught with happens to be underage.

However, I can't for the life of me figure out why anyone ever bothers to put Joe Pantoliano in a television series. The guy's arguably worse than Ted McGinley, since McGinley only kills shows that have reached a decent level of maturity, Pantoliano murders them in their cribs. To prove this theory (which I refer to as the Pantoliano Premature Hollywood Homicide Hypothesis), I've compiled a list of his TV series apperances, exhaustively researched at great taxpayer expense:

Free Country (1978) - Rob Reiner's first post-All in the Family TV gig was billed as the story of Lithuanian immigrants in turn-of-the-century New York City. With an action-packed plot like that, and a cast including the likes of Larry Gelman and Hot Shots! Part Deaux's Judith Kahan, it's a wonder this never took off.

The Fanelli Boys (1990-1991) - AKA Everybody Loves Guido. The cancellation of The Fanelli Boys served notice to lovers of Italian stereotyping everywhere that America would no longer tolerate jokes at the expense of hairy mooks in wife-beater t-shirts.

Beethoven (1994) - Remember the good old days, when the networks would make a half-assed aninmated series out of every marginally successful movie featuring a Saint Bernard and Charles Grodin? Good times.

EZ Streets (1996) - By all accounts, this was a pretty good show. The presence of Joey Pants and the alleged association with EZ Wider rolling papers were all the government needed to pull the plug, sadly.

Godzilla (1998-2000) - Remember the good old days, when the networks would make a half-assed animated series out of every excruciatingly horrible Roland Emmerich monster movie? Unfortunately for Pantoliano (the voice of "Animal"), this could never compete with Godzooky and the superior Godzilla Power Hour.

The Lionhearts (1998) - I don't actually know much about this MGM animated series, but I suspect any cartoon featuring characters with names like "Leo Lionheart" was either a belated attempt to cash in on the success of The Lion King or a series that was too ahead of its time to survive.

Sugar Hill (1999) - Another alleged comedy that ran for less than a season. And another series about which I can find little info. It co-starred pre-rehab Charlie Sheen and pre-Meet the Parents Teri Polo, if that tells you anything.

The Sopranos (1999-2006) - Some may feel The Sopranos negates my theory, while I consider it the exception that proves it. The show was around for four seasons before Pantoliano showed up, and - let's be honest - did anyone honestly think he was going to last that long? Call it Corollary #1 to the Pantoliano Hypothesis: the only way a series will survive the addition of Joey Pants if is his character doesn't.

The Handler (2003) - This one got decent reviews, but CBS dropped the ball when it failed to promote the show as a gritty crime drama and presented it as a glossy vehicle for Pantoliano to be a smart ass. And his stupid hat didn't help.

Dr. Vegas (2004-?) - Isn't this where we came in?

The problem, as I see it, is that Joe Pantoliano will forever be Guido the Killer Pimp in the minds of millions of Americans. They're rarely, if ever, going to buy him as a romantic lead, or a lovable buffoon, or anything other than a borderline psychotic SOB, and that goes for the majority his movie roles as well. One of the reasons his turn as Ralph Cifaretto in The Sopranos was so successful was because Ralph was Guido with a death wish and a penchant for playing "bottom." Who doesn't love that?

Open letter to that kid at the Galleria yesterday

Wow. That took some gall. Not balls, which is what I attribute to someone who takes a stand in the face of popular sentiment, and not nerve, which is what's required when you need to get it together to do something gutsy, but gall. Gall is that special something needed to commit an act of such outright assholery it defies rational description. And honestly, that's the only reason I can imagine someone would walk around one of the largest shopping malls in the country wearing a swastika t-shirt.

On Yom Kippur.

I admit, I've been kicking myself all day for not running right out of that restaurant and kicking you in the ass. I can only give two reasons for my inaction: one - I was busy trying to wrestle my crabby infant back into her stroller while simultaneously preventing her from grabbing a fork and knocking over a tray of glasses, and two - I was quite frankly stunned into temporary immobility. Surely, I thought, I can't be seeing somebody walking around in the fourth largest city in the United States wearing something regarded as universally offensive to all but mouth-breathing skinheads and some idiot merchants in South Korea, and on a Jewish holiday, no less. Maybe I didn't see it right, I thought, maybe it was the counterclockwise swastika, or manji, Buddhist symbol of night and magic (perhaps you're a big Blade of the Immortal fan). But no, it was unmistakeable: a black swastika in a white circle on a red t-shirt.

I hustled everything together at that point and headed out into the mall, not really sure what I was planning to do (run over your toes with the stroller?), but feeling obligated at the very least to confront you about it. Unfortunately, you and your three cohorts had disappeared. I continued to look around for the remaining hour or so we wandered around, but you had - wisely - made yourself scarce.

At the very least, I had questions. For example, what exactly were you thinking? Was this some act of teenage rebellion (I gauged you to be about 16)? In a world filled with peers piercing themselves in every conceivable place and covering every square inch of flesh with tattoos, did you feel this was the only way to express your individuality?

And what about your friends, if they can truly be described as such? Did none of them have the common sense to tell you what an ass you were about to make of yourself? Or should I blame your parents, either for not being aware of what their child was wearing or for allowing him to go out in public dressed like some jagoff white supremacist?

Or are you all simply ignorant assholes? I guess it's possible you and your friends don't know the significance of the swastika because you were behind the band hall huffing paint when they showed Schindler's List in your history class, but I tend to doubt it. Someone, somewhere along the chain of events leading to your arrival at the mall yesterday had to have known.

I hope it was worth the laugh. I can't imagine how you could be so blind to the countless people you must have shocked, outraged, and saddened with your little excursion - some of whom had to have relatives or loved ones who died in WWII or the camps, and whose reactions you must have noticed at some point.

But what I really hope, in my blackest of hearts, is that you ran into a couple of Jews in the parking garage who, already irritated from fasting for the last 18 hours, set upon you with a tire iron and let you know exactly how badly you screwed up.

More zombie goodness

Pre-production on George A. Romero's Land of the Dead continues apace as more casting news comes out:

Variety reports that a cast has been set for LAND OF THE DEAD, George Romero's long-awaited return to the zombie genre. Simon (THE RING 2) Baker, Asia (THE STENDHAL SYNDROME) Argento and John (SPAWN) Leguizamo will play soldiers who are among the living survivors in a walled city surrounded by a zombie-populated wasteland. The trio set out to do battle with the massing creatures in an armored vehicle called the Dead Reckoning (which was an early title for this project). Also in the cast is Robert Joy, a veteran of genre pics including AMITYVILLE 3-D, THE DARK HALF and the recent HELTER SKELTER TV movie, joining previously announced Dennis Hopper. LAND, which producing entity Atmosphere Entertainment hopes will launch a series of undead films, rolls October 11 in Toronto. — Michael Gingold

It's a start. Obviously, no one is going to mistake Baker, Argento, and Leguizamo for Will Smith, Julia Roberts, and Tom Cruise, but compared to the unknowns Romero's had for his first three Dead films, this might as well be one of those Cornelius Ryan movies.

Given the tone of the earlier films, it's safe to assume Land of the Dead will be a dark affair, and one I'm looking forward to. Having said that, one mustn't discount the comedic potential of a giant tank named "Dead Reckoning" rolling over the living dead.

"Send...more...armored cav...hggrkkk."

"I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if a couple dozen voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced."

Ha ha, suckers:

Fans of John Williams are up in arms over an apparent glitch in the new Star Wars DVD set in which the left and right channels fed to the rear speakers in surround sound are reversed in the original Star Wars movie (Episode 4). John Takis, who frequently analyzes film scores for Internet groups, points out that the violins can be heard coming from the left surround-sound speakers and the cellos from the left. "It is essentially a 124-minute audio glitch," Takis writes on the John Williams fansite, www.JW-Music.net. "The sound effects are correctly positioned in the surround channels. It's just the music that's backwards." Takis also takes issue with other aspects of the sound mix for the original movie. "Remember the awesome fanfare version of the Force theme that kicks off the Death Star battle?" he writes "Good luck hearing it this time around -- it's virtually inaudible."

Confirmation from DVD site The Digital Bits, as well.

Lucasfilm responds:

"We are always impressed with how closely fans listen to the many different sound mixes we have made for the Star Wars movies over the years. It is flattering to know that, indeed, the audience is listening. Consequently, each mix comes out differently and any changes that you hear on the all-new Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround EX tracks o­n the Star Wars Trilogy DVD set are deliberate creative decisions. We can confirm that there are no technical glitches as has been reported."

So...either they're idiots, or the reversal of the score was an inexplicably "deliberate creative decision." Nothing would surprise me at this point, though I wonder how much my surround sound-deprived self would actually notice. In any case, I still hadn't made up my mind about obtaining these. Now I think I won't, as it will spoil all my pointing and laughing.

With my mind on my bunny and my bunny on my mind

"Fear has never been so cute and fuzzy" (via e-mail):

I’m thrilled to officially announce that the 30-Second Bunnies Theatre Troupe is working on a very special project for the Starz! movie channel (http://www.starz.com ).

The Bunnies will be hosting the “Starz! Hare-Raising Halloween Marathon” this October. The marathon begins Saturday, October 30 and runs through midnight of Sunday October 31, on the Starz! channel. After the marathon I’ll post each re-enactment, one at a time, on the Angryalien.com website. More details to come!

Of the featured movies Starz will broadcast during the marathon, the Bunnies Troupe and I chose the following three to re-enact:

Freddy vs. Jason
Scream
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (v.2003)
...
Additionally, Starz has commissioned five Bunnies interstitial pieces, each 10-15 seconds long, promoting the marathon and the re-enactments.

In conclusion, the bunnies & I are working around the clock to crank out some very funny and entertaining stuff. We couldn’t be more excited! And thanks to every one of you for your support and for making all this possible.

Jennifer (and the 30-Second Bunnies Theatre Troupe)

View the trailer here.

I have to admit, I'm a little confused by a selection of "Halloween" movies that doesn't include Halloween, yet does include the remake of TCM. I'd rather not think about what a bunny-reenacted Jessica Biel in a wet wife beater looks like.

Still, the bunnies are good fun, and it's nice to see Starz giving Jennifer Shiman and crew some air time.

UPDATE: Jennifer herself clarifies, in the comments:

starz provided a set list of movies they were showing for their marathon, and they let me select the three from the list i thought would work best (three because that is all i could do in 8 weeks, heh).

So there you go.

Can a Stone blink?

It can if it's an Oliver Stone:

Alexander the Great's greatest enemy may not be Darius of Persia but a family of superheroes known as The Incredibles -- or so it seemed Wednesday as Warner Bros. announced that it had decided to move the opening of Oliver Stone's $150-million Alexander from Nov. 5, when it was due to face the latest Pixar animated film about the superheroes, to Nov. 24, when it will be up against Flight of the Phoenix, Christmas with the Kranks and Beauty Shop. In a statement, the studio said that it was making the move in order to "position [the movie] better for Academy [Oscar] consideration."

Because those three weeks make all the difference.

There's no shame in not wanting to square off against Pixar, guys. The Incredibles could easily gross over $100 million its first weekend, and at this point the only picture sharing a wide release date on the 5th is Birth, which some of you may know as the film where Nicole Kidman takes a bath with a 10 year-old boy. Don't expect that date to remain unchanged, although if it does I imagine several dads might find themselves slipping out of The Incredibles for an extended "bathroom break."

Stone may have a bigger problem on his hands, as the latest trailer for Alexander makes me a bit uneasy. For example, Angelina Jolie is supposed to be playing his mother, Olympias, but the previews give the impression she's a romantic interest. This pales, however, next to the closing shot of Colin Farrell - on horseback - going toe to toe with an elephant.

Obviously Warner Bros. have learned their lesson from The Return of the King's Best Picture award: more elephants.

Bring it, meat

Crazy Ivan, why won't you die?

What's left of Hurricane Ivan has swelled into a tropical storm that's expected to assault Texas' upper Gulf Coast today.

The storm, with sustained winds of 45 mph today, is most likely to hit around High Island tonight, according to meteorologist Mike Rehbein with the National Weather Service in League City.

For the Houston area, that means some gusty winds but more significantly, lots of rain, starting by the afternoon rush hour, intensifying into the evening and continuing for the next 48 hours or so.

And here I was worrying I'd have to water the lawn this weekend.

Forecasters, of course, can't be sure if weather patterns here will allow Ivan to stall over the Houston area or continue north to the Louisiana coast.

"If it stalls, we're talking about 10 of inches of rain, but if it keeps on going, it will likely produce under 10 inches," said Dan Meador, meteorologist with KHOU-Channel 11.

"And if it produces more than 10 inches, that would be close to a foot of rain, unless it doesn't, in which case it won't. But it might. Stay tuned to Channel 11 for all your alarmist tropical storm needs."

Ivan looks more like a wet nuisance than the juggernaut that hit the Alabama and Florida coasts, but we'll keep our eyes on it. Personally, I'm chilling some beer in anticipation of watching our local reporters stupidly braving the elements to show us all what worthy newspeople they are.

Don't let me down, Wayne.

Sing, my pretties

"It's hard on a fella
When his plane lands in some strange town
If I can't ditch the TSA
I'm pretty sure they'll say
I'm gonna have to turn around
Another Tuesday night, and I just got deported"

Can any government policy that prevents aging ex-folk singers from crossing our borders really be all that bad?

Homeland Security officials said Yusuf Islam — formerly known as singer Cat Stevens — will be deported Wednesday after being denied entry to the U.S. Stevens had recently been placed on a government "no-fly" list after U.S. authorities received information indicating associations with potential terrorists, a government official said.

The former singer was a passenger on United Airlines Flight 919, en route to Dulles International Airport from London when the match was made Tuesday between a passenger and a name on the watch list, said Nico Melendez, a spokesman for the Transportation Security Administration.

They'll ban Gordon Lightfoot next.

Converting to Islam was the best career move Stevens ever made. After the success of Teaser and the Firecat and Tea for the Tillerman (and the Harold and Maude soundtrack), Stevens began to suffer unfavorably from being lumped in with the "Martha's Vineyard sound" of James Taylor and Carly Simon. He released a greatest hits album in 1975, but never recaptured the success of his eary career. As the '70s came to an end, he had to ask himself: would morning break again? Or would the moonshadow finally capture him and leach away his precious bodily fluids?

Islam, who was born Stephen Georgiou, took Cat Stevens as a stage name and had a string of hits in the 1970s, including "Wild World" and "Morning Has Broken." Last year he released two songs, including a re-recording of his 1971 hit "Peace Train," to express his opposition to the U.S.-led war in Iraq (news - web sites).

He abandoned his music career in the late 1970s and changed his name after being persuaded by orthodox Muslim teachers that his lifestyle was forbidden by Islamic law.

Uh huh. His past actions actually support my theory. He was quick to jump on the fatwah bandwagon against Salman Rushdie, but years later claimed he was misinterpreted, and has publicly criticized the September 11 attacks as well as the massacre at Beslan. The prevailing winds have shifted since those heady days when Arab groups could protest about their unfair portrayal as terrorists in movies, and Yusuf is obviously feeling the pressure.

That, or Natalie Merchant really scared the piss out of him.

Either way, no terrorist mastermind would be bopping around with the last name "Islam" these days. For that reason, and because we believe in giving people a second chance, I preset you with A Perfectly Cromulent Blog's Top 11 Alternate Names for Yusuf Islam:

11. Yusuf Freedom
10. I Choo-Choo-Choose Yusuf
9. Yusuf Fluffy Bunny Pants
8. Yusuf Hannity
7. Yusuf Lohan
6. Tickle Me Yusuf
5. Yusuf Smirnoff
4. Yu-Suf-Oh!
3. Yusuf G in Da House
2. What Yusuf Talkin' Bout?
1. Yusuf Friendly

I also considered "Yusuf Crazy," a la Martin Lawrence, but didn't think that would help his case.

A Kuff above the rest

Congrats to Chuck Kuffner, whose Off the Kuff just won this year's Best Houston Blog contest in the Houston Press. If you're not reading it, OtK is the best place for sane analysis of the often insane world of Texas politics, baseball (even though he's a Yankees fan), and "miscellaneous." The honor is well-deserved.

Of course, they also gave Best Talk Radio Host honors to Jim Rome. Just sayin'.

"This is my happening and it freaks me out!"

It is a sad day indeed for fans of sleaze cinema: the great Russ Meyer has passed away:

Russ Meyer, who helped spawn the "skin flick" with such films as "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" and "Vixen," has died. He was 82.

Meyer died Saturday at his home in the Hollywood Hills, according to his company, RM Films International Inc. Spokeswoman Janice Cowart said Meyer had suffered from dementia and died of complications of pneumonia.

Meyer's films were considered pornographic in their time but are less shocking by today's standards, with their focus on violence and large-busted women but little graphic sex.

In that respect, Meyer can be regarded as the father of modern-day filmmaking. Or, at least, modern-day prime time television. Without Meyer (and, to some extent, contemporaries like Roger Corman and Herschell Gordon Lewis), there'd be no Charlie's Angels, or Baywatch, or John Waters, And while big boobs and violence are now staples of modern Hollywood fare, Meyer always presented them in his films with humor and a wink to his audience.

And now you can't even thank him. Bad enough his harmless exploitation efforts were shoved aside by the rise of hardcore pornography (a genre so creativley bankrupt it makes Meyer's ouevre look like the Kurosawa catalog), but now there aren't even real exploitation films to speak of.

Anyone mentioning Eli Roth will get mocked derisively.

What's gratifying is that this same man - who referred to his movies as "bosomacious melodramas" and made Tura Satana and Kitten Natividad household names* - is discussed in film school across the country and has had films purchased and exhibited by the New York Museum of Modern Art.

In a 1996 interview with The Associated Press, Meyer described his films as "passion plays. ... Beauty against something that's totally evil."

Meyer was unapologetic for his movies, arguing the onscreen female nudity put customers in theater seats. But he maintained that women liked the films.

"The girls kick the hell out of the guys. I've always played well at the Ivy League -- Cornell, Dartmouth. I have never encountered a berating woman," he said.

Meyer realized that portraying gargantuan chested women was all well and good, so long as these same women could be seen giving payback to abusive men. His films are populated with leering sleazebags and perverts, all of whom eventually receive their comeuppance at the hands of the women they objectify. His female characters were almost always the good guys, but when you watch a Russ Meyer film, you're really watching his fantasy of being "punished" for his own fetishes playing out on screen. Distasteful as some may find that, it still beats the hell out of another goddamned remake no one asked for.

So long Russ. The lights at APCB will be dimmed, and a topless candlelight vigil will be held in your honor. Careful with that wax.

*My household, anyway.

For sale - One (1) slightly used fantasy football team - cheap

This is payback by the football gods for being overall points leaders in my league last year. To sum up:

RB: Deuce McAllister - out 4-6 weeks
RB: Stephen Davis - out 2-5 weeks
WR: Charles Rogers - out for season
TE: Todd Heap - out 2-4 weeks

That's half my starting lineup. Ours is a 12-team league, meaning free agents are a precious commodity, and running backs are nigh impossible to come by. I've been juggling a variety of 2nd tier backs, which didn't keep me from getting pummeled this week. I'm 1-1 so far, but only because a certain someone's team performed even worse than mine in the first week.

I can probably look forward to another two games (at least) of sucking hind teat before I can start a turnaround. How are everybody else's teams doing?

For those of you with no interest in what I'm talking about (or with actual lives), stay tuned: we'll have a post about busty vampires or televangelists here before too long.

"Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!"

One of the requirements for Vice-President must be a well-developed sense of hyperbole:

"Today we face an enemy every bit as intent on destroying us as the Axis powers of World War II," the vice president said. "This is, put it simply, an enemy we must destroy. And with President George W. Bush as our commander in chief, that's exactly what we will do."

True, al-Qaeda and the rest of that bunch are certainly bent on bringing the Great Satan down, but Cheney forgot to mention that none of these groups have much in the way of troop strength, or a navy (both of which are helpful in the area of force projection). The Axis of Islam also lacks an air force. I know, I know, they managed to commandeer a few planes with box cutters, but that's hardly good strategy for providing air cover.

No derisive Disney cartoons, no Time-Life series...hell, they don't even have cool uniforms.

Besides, as has been noted here and elsewhere, you don't need to look exclusively at the Islamic fundamentalist world to find some bad people who want to fuck our shit up.

Texas Tuesdays - 09/21/2004

There's a double header of goodness today on Texas Tuesdays. Specifically, Morris Meyer and Lorenzo Sadun. Rather than come up with interesting wording, I'll just copy the formatting everyone else is using:

Meyer intro
Meyer interview
Donate to Meyer

Sadun intro
Sadun overview
Sadun interview
Donate to Sadun

Both candidates are facing tough contests. Meyer's running against Joe Barton in CD06, while Sadun faces Michael McCaul, who some APCB readers may remember received my "lesser of two evils" endorsement in the Republican primary. Consider that expired.

How to guarantee your kid will need therapy - Pt. 1

This beats the hell out of the time my mother drew eyebrows on me in black Sharpie for my "nuclear mutant" costume.

A young Bush supporter wears her hair braids in the shape of a "W" made by her mother using a bent clothes hanger for a campaign visit by US President George W. Bush in Rochester, Minnesota. (AFP/Tim Sloan)

Supporter, eh? I remain doubtful that any kid forced to sit still while their mother spent a couple hours braiding her hair into the shape of a "W" would have anything but icy loathing for the candidate in question. But don't believe me, just look at her face.

[This is bipartisan, by the way, as braiding a "K" would be even more problematic.]

And given this administration's record on reproductive rights, she may want to hang on to that coat hanger.

A Perfectly Cromulent Blog: Going for the cheap laugh since 2003

Captain likely to be grounded

Bad news for those hoping for Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow's franchise potential, as it only managed to gross $16 million on its opening weekend. With a budget in the neighborhood of $70 million, there's little possibility the film will make its money back (expect at least a 50% drop-off in the second weekend).

Ironically, it's the F/X that are probably to blame. Sky Captain's original release date was in June, shortly before Spider-Man 2. With a summer movie marketing push, it should've been able to get close to, if not over, the $100 million mark. Unfortunately, several shots weren't completed, and the movie was pushed back to September, the also-ran month for premieres.

There's still the possibility that Sky Captain will take off as a home video release and engender some interest that way. More likely, Kerry Conran will focus on his Mars project, which will hopefully get a more accomodating release date.

I think murder's still a sin, "Reverend"

Q: What's a good way to renew interest in your ministry, especially if it's been on the decline ever since your infamous dalliances with the oldest profession?

A: Bash them queers (via the Burnt Orange Report):

According to a transcript of the program, Mr. Swaggart said: "I'm trying to find the correct name for it ... this utter absolute, asinine, idiotic stupidity of men marrying men. ... I've never seen a man in my life I wanted to marry. And I'm gonna be blunt and plain; if one ever looks at me like that, I'm gonna kill him and tell God he died."

Kinda throws a kink in that whole "omniscient supreme being" concept.

Swaggart is another in a seemingly endless line of repressed straight guys who labor under the false impression (or hope) that armies of leather-clad homos are just lurking behind every corner, waiting to take them unawares and subject them to a rigorous ass-pounding. Anytime I hear similar sentiments, I'm struck by how much the entire thing sounds like some sort of oft-replayed fantasy scenario.

What's even more hilarious is that these same words are coming from a guy who had to pay to get a look at a woman's goodies. If, as a TV evangelist, you can't score with your own congregation (hell, Jim Bakker did it, and he's the guy for whom the term "rat-faced scumbag" was invented), what makes you think any self-respecting gay man would give you s first glance, much less a second?

And I say this as a guy who - by my own estimates - hasn't been attractive to homosexuals for almost twenty years.

Finally, I see ole Jimmy's pushing 70. Were I in his shoes, I wouldn't be making nonchalant statements about the ease of stomping anyone, gay or not. The 70 year-olds I know can't take much of a beating.

Of course, that might be part of the aforementioned fantasy.

Everyone's a critic

Film Threat is holding my review of Silver City until its showing at the Sidewalk Film Festival, so I've gone ahead and posted it at Blogcritics. Feel free to check it out here.

Who'll stop the Rayne?

I know everybody has as much hope as I do for the upcoming BloodRayne movie:

In an interview with Monsters & Critics, Director Uwe Boll spoke about how the shoot in Romania is going on the Kristanna Loken movie:

"We are doing the biggest massacre in the movie right now, so we have five knights in this monastery in Romania right now and a huge battle with like one shot after another where people get killed or cut and half and stuff....for me it was important for me that our movie looked more like Braveheart. Real castles and monasteries, the mountains, etc. The locations make it more realistic and in that atmosphere the brutal fights and a lot of gore, so will be definitely a R rated movie..."

Uwe Boll, for those of you with better things to do than watch excruciatingly bad horror films, directed last year's House of the Dead, which was sort of like Resident Evil with its brain removed. And with the brain then beaten to mush with a crowbar. If there were any redeeming qualities to House of the Dead, it was the number of naked breasts presented. That's something I guess.

And Ona Grauer. Sweet, sweet Ona Grauer.

"Basically BloodRayne is a completely different movie to my previous ones. It is a video game based movie sure, but far more story orientated. I thought it would be good to move the story back and to tell the prequel really. To show how BloodRayne became BloodRayne in the 1700's. A franchise really, so maybe we can move a hundred years into the future for the next one, then later with the game story with the Nazi's and all that stuff, we can do it in part two or part three..."

I want to do BloodRayne as [a] really bloody period piece. It makes more sense to tell the whole story also where the Brimstone Society origins are and then we can make that jump to the story that plays in the time of the Nazis".

"Orientated" isn't a word. Quit learning English by reading American business magazines.

It's interesting that Boll would try to distance himself from the only movies that anyone seems to hire him to direct. Besides House of the Dead his next film is an adaptation of the classic Interplay game Alone in the Dark. Accepting this fate is really the first step to a satisfactory, if not entirely fulfilling, life experience.

Of course, "moving the story back" is just going to annoy those fans who only want to see Rayne kicking Nazi ass in her trademark black leather dominatrix outfit.

I like her symbol in that pic: a crucifix with boobs.

And considering the box office performance of HotD ($10 million...it's budget was $12 million), I don't think Uwe should be counting my franchise potential eggs just yet.

The Speaker in Yellow

Death to Americans? Not all of them, apparently:

Top Democrats slapped back Sunday at a remark by House Speaker Dennis Hastert that al Qaeda leaders want Sen. John Kerry to beat President Bush in November.

At a campaign rally Saturday in his Illinois district with Vice President Dick Cheney, Hastert said al Qaeda "would like to influence this election" with an attack similar to the train bombings in Madrid days before the Spanish national election in March.

When a reporter asked Hastert if he thought al Qaeda would operate with more comfort if Kerry were elected, the speaker said, "That's my opinion, yes."

Yeah, because a series of attacks or bombings directly before the election wouldn't have the effect of uniting everyone behind the President. Anyone recall his approval ratings after 9/11?

And given how successful the "insurgents" in Iraq are doing, I'd think al-Qaeda et. al. would be only too happy to get another four years out of Bush.

Hastert, who as speaker heads the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, showed no sign of backing off his comments.

His spokesman, John Feehery, said Sunday that the speaker's comments "were consistent with the speaker's belief that John Kerry would be weak on the war."

"If John Kerry is perceived as being weak on the war, then of course, his election would be perceived as a good thing by the terrorists," Feehery said in a written response to questions about Hastert's remarks.

We'll have to wait for a response from bin Laden on whether or not he perceives a decorated Vietnam veteran as being "weak on war" when compared to the draft-dodger who currently holds the office. If Kerry's remarks about committing "atrocities" in Vietnam are taken into account, I think the prospect of him coming to make a necklace out of my ears would scare the bejeezus out of most of our enemies.

Bailing on Bond

Shocked, shocked I am to hear the latest Bond rumors may be inaccurate:

Scottish actor Dougray Scott's mother has slammed reports her son is to play the next James Bond. The To Kill A King hunk, 38, was rumored to have beaten King Arthur star Clive Owen and Hulk actor Eric Bana to replace Pierce Brosnan in the 23rd Bond movie, after discussions with producer Barbara Broccoli. But Scott's mother, Elma Scott, says, "My other son David contacted him about the latest reports and he said it's not true. He has other commitments, so there is certainly nothing to say at the moment."

When seeking the truth behind Hollywood casting rumor, I've often found that an actor's family members are roughly as accurate as Ain't It Cool News or The Star.

At this point, my money's on Brosnan sticking around. There are still plenty of actors that could do the job, but it really sounds like Eon and the Broccolis are reaching the end of their short list.

My new dark horse pick is Sacha Baren Cohen of Da Ali G Show fame.

Sports bar observations

Not observations about the bar itself, mind you, but...oh the hell with it. Roll the tape.

ESPN cut away from the Red Sox - Yankees game (nice 9th, Rivera) to show Barry Bonds' 700th dinger. As was the case when he broke the single season HR record, I was struck with the marked lack of enthusiasm among Bonds' teammates. The guy just became only the 3rd player in history to reach 700, and I'm pretty sure the announcers were more excited than his fellow players, and I'm pretty sure Bonds could give a shit.

I'd hate to be the photographer behind home plate who was jawing with the guy behind him at the time (watch the endless replays, you can't miss it) and missed his chance to capture the moment. Hope his paper wasn't counting on that shot.

On another MLB-related note, you'll forgive me if I have little sympathy for those Oakland mooks who instigated the whole Frank Francisco chair-throwing incident. Fine, Francisco shouldn't have lost his cool, but don't hold a press conference to let everyone know you bought season tickets over the opposing team's bullpen so you could carry on the "American tradition" of heckling and expect anyone to sympathize with you.

I'm no stranger to drinking during a game, but I've always tried to adhere to the guideline that you never taunt someone with any comments stronger than what you'd say to their face. Which explains why I've saved my best stuff for Don Zimmer and Tony Gwynn.

Hockey's another matter, but trust me, you can't hear anything on the ice anyway.

Anyway, the Buenos are idiots. Francisco is a petulant thug, and neither the A's nor the Rangers are liable to make any noise in the postseason. So let's move on to the important stuff. Namely, my fantasy football team.

I am in some serious deep diddly. I drafted Charles Rogers, and he went down last Sunday for the season with a broken collarbone. Again. I also drafted Stephen Davis, who is out 2-5 weeks with a knee injury. Of my two keepers, only Peyton Manning did anything right, since Deuce McAllister had what could charitably be called a sub-par game. I still managed to eke out a win in what ended up being the lowest scoring game in our league (56-53), but it's going to take some creative roster alignment to do well this week.

Hell, I may end up starting Lamar Gordon.

Finally, are there any Aggies out there (you know who you are) who are a little cheesed off that Greg Hill, the guy who bailed on the team to turn pro after landing the program on NCAA probation, is a college football analyst for FoxSports Southwest? How about the fact that he picked Clemson over A&M this week?

I mean, Clemson's going to win, but still.

Aye, Cap'n

My whiz-bang review for Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow is up in the usual place.

Didn't get to see Wimbledon, as it screened the same night as Sky Captain. It was an easy choice.

My review for John Sayles' disappointing latest, Silver City, should be up this weekend as well.

"Ogre, you asshole."

You could almost set your watch by these remake announcements (this one courtesy of TTTWLAM):

You know that you're getting old when movies that you first saw as a teenager are being remade. The latest movie project that is helping to advance old age for kids of the 1980s is a remake of the 1984 comedy picture REVENGE OF THE NERDS, a tale of how the geeks strike back against the jocks and popular kids that was told well before Bill Gates made his first billion dollars.

Putting together the remake are CHARLIE'S ANGELS director McG and his biz partner Stephanie Savage (they'll produce the new NERDS); Gabe Sachs and Jeff Judah, creators of ABC's new series LIFE AS WE KNOW IT, are writing the film's screenplay; and O.C. star Adam Brody and GROUNDED FOR LIFE's Brett Harrison are co-producing the movie as well as may star in it.

According to the story in Variety, Brody and Harrison came up with the idea for a remake and then pitched it to McG on the set of THE O.C., the Fox series the director is an executive producer of. They took it to Fox Searchlight Pictures, who bought it, and now it's in development.

Figures. The O.C. is nothing more than a remake of every other piece o'crap teen drama that's come down the pike since...I dunno, The Hardy Boys. I'm curious as the thought process behind "coming up with the idea" for a remake, though. In this case, it sounds like it involved multiple bong loads and an afternoon spent watching "Eighties Week" on TBS.

As horrifying as the news about McG's involvement is, I can't help wondering if the existence of three lousy sequels (the last two going straight to video) doesn't already take some of the sting out of Revenge getting remade. The only cast members with any vested financial interest in the original series of films continuing are probably Robert Carradine and Curtis Amrstrong, who starred in all four films (others made cameos throughout). Carradine's got Lizzie McGuire to tide him over, while I suspect Armstrong would work for a bar tab at this point.

I saw the original in the theater. My dad took me, putting a Band Aid on his glasses and donning a pocket protector before buying the tickets. My 15-year old, desperately yearning for coolness self was understandably mortified. 'Course, he also took me to see The Wall when I was 13, which - while extremely cool - was probably ill-adivsed.

You can remake this movie, McG, but you'll never take my memories.

"Permission to treat the witness as hostile?"

And people laughed when I created a category solely for Star Wars related entries...

From today's Dark Horizons, excerpts from an Associated Press interview with George Lucas:

Question: Why not release both the originals and special editions on DVD?

Lucas: The special edition, that's the one I wanted out there. The other movie, it's on VHS, if anybody wants it. ... I'm not going to spend the, we're talking millions of dollars here, the money and the time to refurbish that, because to me, it doesn't really exist anymore. It's like this is the movie I wanted it to be, and I'm sorry you saw half a completed film and fell in love with it. But I want it to be the way I want it to be. I'm the one who has to take responsibility for it. I'm the one who has to have everybody throw rocks at me all the time, so at least if they're going to throw rocks at me, they're going to throw rocks at me for something I love rather than something I think is not very good, or at least something I think is not finished.

Plenty of artists deal with works that are unfinished. Writers call them "drafts." Lucas can whine all he wants about how the original was "jerked from his hands," but only guys like Kubrick and Altman have the pull to dick around for years making a film. Everyone else (especially a director with one moderately successful studio picture under his belt) should be prepared to suck it up.

What's his excuse for redoing Empire and Return of the Jedi yet again? Certainly the success of Star Wars meant he could take the time to make something other than a "half-completed" film at the time?

As for those widely available VHS copies he's referring to, checking the Amazon listing for "Star Wars original versions" turns up a lot of "out of stock" messages. You can find a couple sets on eBay for $30 and up, but it isn't like one can just walk into Fry's and buy them. Maybe that's because Lucas is no longer allowing the tapes to be produced?

Poor guy, he's "sorry" all the way to the bank. I'd give more credence to his claims that it would cost millions to "refurbish" the originals, but he'd easily make that back in two hour's worth of sales.

Question: After "Episode III," will you ever revisit "Star Wars"?

Lucas: "Ultimately, I'm going to probably move it into television and let other people take it. I'm sort of preserving the feature film part for what has happened and never go there again, but I can go off into various offshoots and things. You know, I've got offshoot novels, I've got offshoot comics. So it's very easy to say, "Well, OK, that's that genre, and I'll find a really talented person to take it and create it." Just like the comic books and the novels are somebody else's way of doing it. I don't mind that. Some of it might turn out to be pretty good. If I get the right people involved, it could be interesting".

Man, I had this idea months ago. I'll give it a whirl, dude. Keep the executive producer credit and just give me a percentage of merchandising and let me handle the interviews. I work cheap.

So he's gone from "definitely not" to "it could be interesting" in the space of a week. The guy obviously needs some help solidifying his platform.

The whole interview can be read here.

No guts, no glory

In 2086, two peaceful aliens journeyed to Earth, seeking our help. In return, they gave us the plans for our first hyperdrive, opening the doors to the stars. We have assembled a team of unique individuals to protect Earth and our allies. Courageous pioneers, committed to the highest ideals of justice, and dedicated to preserving law and order across the new frontier. These are the adventures of the Galaxy Rangers.

Sweet:

In 1984, Robert Mandell had an idea—to create a space western, an animated series which would be a MAGNIFICENT SEVEN for the after-school set. ... This show had it all. Rock and roll, land rushes, sword and sorcery, talking dolphins (which sounds much cheesier than it actually was—mostly), the sexiest lady outlaw ever drawn (Daisy O'Mega, of the Black Hole Gang) —and plenty of fantastic space battles on a par with the original STAR WARS trilogy. Each of the characters had distinct personalities and strengths and flaws, with stories often growing out of those conflicts, rather than relying on the Aliens-of-the-Week to supply the plots.

Sometimes confused with similar space westerns (Filmation's BRAVESTARR and World Events Productions's SABER RIDER AND THE STAR SHERIFFS, which was the re-packed and re-written Japanese series SEI JUSHI BISMARK), GALAXY RANGERS has a devout cult following, with fans anxiously awaiting the upcoming DVD release in October.

Galaxy Rangers was one of those shows I caught when I could, after-school activities permitting, and never really watched regularly enough to develop a real feel for the continuity. Still, it was refreshing in that the characters were allowed to develop their own story arcs over time and - unlike in every other American cartoon of the 1980s - people actually died on the show. I wasn't even aware a DVD release was planned, but I'm happy to hear it.

The rest of the article features an interview with Mandell, who discusses the show's origins and possible plans for a future series:

Whether we do a series of DVDs, or a new series, I don't know. We'll see how it goes. I think that we certainly could pre-sell a DVD movie. I'd much rather produce a direct-to-DVD feature because you have much more control. Dealing with the studios is just a pain in the neck, the more money involved. The RANGERS as a DVD movie could be terrific. We can do a lot more, you get more bang for the buck on a DVD movie.

And of course, 20 years later, the potential for animation is tremendous. What we can do these days... I don't know what techniques we'd use, but I'm sure we could find some integration of 3-D and 2-D. You don't see a lot of the tradition 2-D animation anymore. Everybody's trying to do the latest new 3-D look and stuff.

Man, do another Scarecrow episode. That thing freaked my ass out.

On second thought, don't do another Scarecrow episode.

Hey Grisham, I got yer package right here.

For the record, I was playing golf with OJ at the time:

Authorities are investigating a suspicious mailing -- initially thought to be a bomb -- that was sent to bestselling author John Grisham at his farm in Albemarle County.

"It appeared to be a potentially explosive device," said Lee Catlin, a spokeswoman for the county. "But a state police evaluation determined it was not a functional explosive device."

County fire marshal Bob Lowry said Tuesday the large envelope was placed in Grisham's mailbox Saturday but was not delivered by the U.S. Postal Service.

Those Illuminati buffoons misunderstood me; I didn't wish death on Grisham, just his career.

Damn Commies

Here's a webcam shot from the Tropical Isle in New Orleans earlier today. I can't personally recall Bourbon Street ever being so empty, even at 7:30 in the morning on a Sunday:

Dunno how many people are still in New Orleans, but good luck to you and to anybody in Gulfport, Mobile, and the Florida panhandle who will soon be dealing with that dirty Russkie Ivan, if you aren't already.

"This really burns my cannoli!"

Italian stereotyping in Shark Tale? Fuggedaboudit:

DreamWorks SKG Tuesday defended its upcoming animated film "Shark Tale" against mounting criticism from Italian-American groups who say the movie's gangster-like Shark characters foster ethnic stereotypes.

Studio spokesman Andy Spahn said the emphasis of the film's humor was on pop culture and Hollywood parodies, similar to DreamWorks' hit storybook satires "Shrek" and "Shrek 2."

"It's a family comedy that pokes fun at a number of film genres," Spahn told Reuters. "It doesn't demean anyone, there are no negative stereotypes. There is nothing mean-spirited in the film."

He even suggested that the shark characters were not depicted in an altogether negative light. "Villains become heroes over the course of this film," he said.

If you ask me, Don Knotts has more of a cause for complaint. Will Smith's character is a dead ringer for Mr. Limpet.

These protests would be understandable, if the portrayal of Italian gangsters in film and on television didn't make them look so damn cool. Vito Corleone was the ultimate crime lord, while his son Michael was smooth, capable, and implacable. Tony Soprano is a dangerous SOB, and men everywhere can live vicariously through this middle-aged, overweight, balding guy nailing Russian models. I think people would be more sympathetic if movies did nothing but portray Italians as clumsy idiots who always get the short end of the stick and are the butt of every joke, but they don't.

But while we're on the subject, maybe obese Americans ought to be protesting.

In Venice last week, De Niro dismissed criticism leveled by a group called the Order of the Sons of Italy in America, which wrote to Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi urging him to cancel plans to bestow honorary Italian citizenship on the actor.

The group said De Niro did not deserve the honor because he had "made a career of playing gangsters of Italian descent."

Yeah, that Travis Bickle was some Italian gangster. And Jake La Motta? Gangster boxer. Michael Vronsky? Vietnam War wiseguy. Rupert Pupkin? Obsessed fan gangster. Same with his characters from Midnight Run and Cape Fear.

As for De Niro's actual gangster roles, only Godfather II's Vito Corleone, Johnny Boy Civello from Mean Streets, and Al Capone in The Untouchables were Italians. If anything, the Jewish Anti-Defamation League should get in on the act, since De Niro's played Jewish gangsters twice (Once Upon a Time in America and Casino), and Jimmy Conway in Goodfellas was Irish, for crying out loud.

Of course, why bother with looking for accurate information on something, when making sweeping generalizations is so much more fun?

Bring out your dead

Saw Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow last night. As some of you have probably already heard, writer/director Kerry Conran - in addition to shooting the entire movie against a blue screen and digitially creating everything except the actors - also "resurrected" footage of deceased actor Laurence Olivier to depict the film's villain, Dr. Totenkopf.

Like most, I was a little squeamish about the idea (we all have fond memories of those Fred Astaire vacuum commercials, I'm sure). I can say, without divulging too much, that it's actually done in a pretty logical fashion which, given one of the more obvious inspirations for the film, makes a certain amount of sense.

But that's not important. What is important is that The Thing That Walks Like a Man (who joined me for the screening) and I both realized all the indignation the use of Olivier's likeness is sure to elicit among some reviewers may be less a stunt by Conran and more of a savvy post-mortem marketing move by Olivier himself. If Jenna Jameson (bear with me, this has a point) can film dozens of scenes and put them on ice for release after she "retires" from adult films to have kids, why couldn't Olivier (or Brando...or Divine, for that matter) have done something similar?

Now, plenty of actors are looking into licensing the use of their images after death, but I'm talking about the potential existence of footage shot by Olivier to ensure his estate never went broke. Why, there could be a sequel to As You Like It out there right now (Any Which Way Lou Like It), or generic product endorsements ("Hi, I'm Laurence Olivier, star of such classic films as Clash of the Titans and Inchon. Making those movies sure was fun, but I'm here tonight to talk to you about the most serious evil facing our society today: miscegenation."). And since we know Olivier was a smart man, there's no reason to think he didn't step out of the boundaries of, *ahem*, conventional cinema. I admit, the thought of some amateur Super 8 featuring Olivier and Joan Plowright doesn't intrigue me, in a financial sense, as much as the possibility that he and Errol Flynn got drunk one night and put together a scheisse video on board the Zaca.

You know Errol would've been into it.

"A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting."

Speculation continues over whether or not Jeopardy superdude Ken Jennings has finally lost a game. CNN ran a story last week citing TV Week's report that Jennings lost in his 75th straight appearance after raking in $2.5 million in cash and prizes. Most impressive.

The reaction I've been hearing, however, only confirms my own feelings on the matter: it's about damn time. No one is denying the guy has a grasp of trivia that makes most of us NTN regulars look like pikers, but enough is enough. The gym I go to usually has Jeopardy on in the afternoons, and I grew so weary of that ferret-faced Mormon bastard I almost resorted to reading Golf Digest.

Naturally, I have no empirical evidence for how widespread this sentiment is. That will not, however, keep me from making sweeping generalizations like the following: America hates winners.

What's that? You thought Americans loved winners? Not exactly. Americans love it when a hard luck team finally makes good - like the Denver Broncos or the 1969 Mets - or when someone overcomes incredible odds or comes from behind to win it all (e.g. the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team). Americans like underdogs to win, which is why every time the Cubs or Red Sox are within 2 games of the playoffs in September, every idiot out there has to speculate about the possibilities.

The flip side, of course, is that we hate perpetual winners. Americans have short attention spans, true, but their memories are long enough to know they're tired of the Yankees, and the Cowboys, and the Lakers. If any Americans paid attention to hockey back in the '70s, they would've gotten sick of Montreal. No one is more fun to shoot down than a popular entertainer (who owns a copy of Thriller?), or a career politician. Americans tolerate success...to a point.

Which brings me back to Jennngs. Nobody begrudged the guy when he won his first five or ten games (the show commemorated its 20th anniversary by lifting the 5-game win limit), but as the streak dragged on and on, and Jennings went from "Aw shucks" wunderkind to evil spectre of game show doom, I suspect more and more people got sick of him. You'd need a radar gun these days to clock how fast their hands go to the remotes when he appears on screen. Jennings had a nice run, but he needs to go off somewhere and count his money.

After he's tithed the requisite 10%, that is.

Texas Tuesdays - 09/14/2004

Over at Texas Tuesdays, the spotlight is on Richard Morrison. Morrison, as you may be aware, is challenging "The Hammer" - Tom DeLay - for Congressional District 22. Morrison's campaign is picking up momentum and has actually forced DeLay to pay more attention to the race that he's probably used to, but there's still a lot of work to be done.

There's also an interview with the candidate up, in which Morrison discusses his fundraising, DeLay's flip-flops, and the surprising lack of local media coverage his bid is receiving.

Home, James

Owen. Jackman. Bana. Scott?

British actor Dougray Scott has reportedly beaten off competition from actors, Eric Bana, Ioan Gruffud and Clive Owen to replace Pierce Brosnan as James Bond. The To Kill A King hunk, 38, clinched the role after discussions with Bond producer Barbara Broccoli and will be the seventh actor to appear as the sexy British agent. He will make his first appearance in the 23rd Bond movie after Eon Productions decided they wanted to return to a more brooding Bond in the mould of fellow Scot Sean Connery, reports British newspaper the Sunday Mirror. A movie insider says, "Producers have been eager to take Bond back to the broody and sexy figure that Sean was so brilliant at. Obviously it's not possible for Sean to return at his age, so they have been looking for a younger actor with similar characteristics. Since then Barbara and Dougray have been in talks - and she believes he will be the perfect new 007 for the 21st Century." Brosnan announced two months ago that he would not be starring as Bond again, saying, "That's it. I've said all I've got to say on the world of James Bond."

I made the mistake of talking about future Bond casting early on, so now I feel sort of obliged to keep it up. Frankly, until someone signs a contract and shooting begins, I'm not inclined to believe any of these rumors.

Besides, didn't Brosnan reportedly leave (if, in fact, he has) because Eon wasn't planning on returning to the brooding, Connery-era persona? Isn't that what Eon and UA tried to do with Timothy Dalton? Is Bond even that viable of a franchise anymore?

I think it's time to provide a little left field speculation about who should be the next James Bond. Why limit ourselves to British citizenry, a Y chromosome, or Anglo ancestry?

And I'll state out front that I already saw my personal favorite, Mr. T, mentioned elsewhere. That's the only reason he's not included on my list.

Bruce Campbell - Every fanboy's dream casting choice for every role ever proposed, from Superman to the Lizard. Could a 12 gauge, double-barreled Remington replace the Walther PPK?

Keira Knightley - Sure, Angelina Jolie can fake a British accent, but Knightley's the real deal. Nothing wrong with some young blood wearing an evening gown in lieu of the traditional tuxedo, but are fans ready for "Bond guys?"

John Cusack - He smokes enough to be "classic" Bond, that's for sure.

Lindsay Lohan - Talk about your franchise potential. Bond has suffered lately from being too stodgy for the "tween" crowd, but no longer. Plus, I've determined that nothing helps the traffic rankings like dropping Lohan's name every so often.

Rowan Atkinson - Yeah, that worked really well.

Chow Yun-Fat - It's high time Bond used more than one gun at a time. Chow could play a secret agent recruited from Hong Kong by MI6, and with renewed focus on Asian settings, could a reunion with Sheriff J.W. Pepper be in the offing?

Marilyn Manson - Why not? He's been acting like a musician for years.

Angela Bassett - She kicks ass, can act, and is hot, hot, hot. Sure, traditionalists will bitch about the complete inversion of Bond history, but they ran out of Ian Fleming material years ago. As long as Eon is treating the Raymond Benson collection as canon, they might as well spice things up.

Strong Bad - Debonair. Technologically savvy. Mysterious. I think we have a winner.

Sorry about your penis (continued)

I thought for a moment, as I read this story, that I was perusing The Onion. Alas:

For the driver looking for more of a pickup -- one that dwarfs the Hummer and the Ford F-350 -- Navistar has just the ride for you.

The new CXT -- short for commercial extreme truck and built from the same platform as the heavy truck maker's typical tow truck or cement mixer -- will be sold starting this week by Navistar's International Truck & Engine subsidiary.

At 258 inches, or 21-1/2 feet long, the CXT's about 4-1/2 feet longer than the new Hummer H2 pickup, and about 2 inches longer than the F-350 Crew Cab.

But how it really towers over what's on the road now is in height. At 108 inches, or 9 feet, the CXT stands only a foot below a basketball rim and more than two feet above the Hummer or the F-350.

Nine feet? To borrow a phrase from Gunnery Sgt. Hartman, I didn't know they stacked shit that high. Do you need a commercial license to drive one of these beasts? What about heavy vehicle training?

I can already predict they'll overwhelmingly be manned by middle-aged white men, either under 5' 5" in height or prematurely bald.

"It's not going to fit into the standard garage," said Mark Oberle, a spokesman for Navistar, based in Warrenville, Ill., outside Chicago. "We can see it a as a vehicle for business people who want to make distinct impression. For personal use, it's for people who want to make a statement.

A variety of statements spring to mind, but all run along the lines of, "The contempt I feel for the safety of my fellow motorists and the preservation of our natural resources is rivaled only by my intense feelings of self-loathing."

Seriously, if you ever discover that you've plopped down a hundred grand (the price ranges from $93,000 to $115,000) for one of these monstrosities, do us all a favor and drive it over a cliff.

Buyers will also have to have a fair amount of money to fill it up -- it's projected to get between 6 and 10 miles per gallon of diesel fuel.

The vehicle weighs about seven tons empty and can carry another six tons in its truck bed.

A hippopotamus, by comparison, weighs five tons. It's only five feet high, though. And it gets better mileage.

What Navistar doesn't see is the vehicle being mass-produced. It expects to sell only about 50 this year and doesn't expect it to challenge the market niche of the H2 sport/utility vehicle, which saw sales of 34,529 last year.

That's a depressingly large number of H2 buyers, even when you eliminate professional athletes and hip-hop artists. A man needs something he can drive to the pharmacy to pick up his Viagra, I guess.

The last word

Until the next round of press for Episode III, that is:

Talking with MTV, George Lucas confirmed that the upcoming "Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith" will definitely be the last live-action film in the saga.

"This was never planned as a nine-episode work. The original 'Star Wars' was only three films, and that was what it was meant to be. After a lot of pondering and thought, I went back to do the back story, but that pretty much tells the story. Episode Six is the end. There isn't any more to it."

I can't be the only one who remembers reading, in an issue of Time from 1980 or thereabouts, that Lucas envisioned a nine film arc for Star Wars. Granted, he was probably blowing smoke since he had never really decided to do Episodes V and VI, initially. Or to rename "Star Wars" as "Episode IV," for that matter. No one, not Lucas, Gary Kurtz, or 20th Century Fox, thought Star Wars had franchise potential. In fact, Lucas and the studio execs were so sure it would flop. Fox considered recycling the F/X shots for a future TV series.

Given Lucas' history of reversing position on this, I'd take him at his word for another ten years or so until the latest batch of CGI wizardry gets him aroused.

He also hinted that Episode III may be a PG-13 affair - "All the good guys die, and you know, it's pretty dark. It's pretty intense. I'm not sure this one is going to end up a PG like the others were".

Wow, so it'll be as dark and intense as Spider-Man? Better bring my smelling salts.

UPDATE: Luke's got my back:

Mark Hamill, the original Luke Skywalker in the original Star Wars movies, has said that George Lucas once told him that he planned to produce episodes seven, eight, and nine of the series beginning around 2011 and asked him to return for cameo appearances then. Hamill said he agreed to do so. (In a separate interview, Lucas described his comment as "an off-hand comment" and added, "I never had any intention of doing that. ... Episode six is the end. There isn't any more to it.")

"Original Luke Skywalker?" Did I miss something?

In a world where The Who can go on six "farewell" tours and still make money, George Lucas will revisit the idea of more movies again.

I just thought of something else. In his MTV interview, Lucas said Episode III would be the last "live-action" Star Wars film. Surely it isn't out of the realm of possibility that he'd simply go all-CGI next time. Actors are so annoying, after all.

Et tu, Richard?

World without end:

Richard Linklater has signed on to direct "The Bad News Bears" for Paramount Pictures. Billy Bob Thornton is set to star in the remake of the 1976 Walter Matthau feature about a group of Little League misfits who are transformed into a winning team. Geyer Kosinski is producing "Bears," which is due to go into production in November..."

Nothing would make me happier (except a Cardinals World Series win and a free case of Jameson) than to see the rotting corpse of Walter Matthau rise from the grave, seize Billy Bob Thornton by his chicken neck, and throttle him until he admitted he was a "booger eating moron."

I loved Tanner.

Anyway, the timeline's about right. The original Bad News Bears bowed in 1976, which is well within Hollywood's remake zone. It wouldn't have surprised me if Paramount decided to switch sports from baseball to something else, given the former's relative lack of popularity, but Little Giants has already been done, and the Mighty Ducks have become well nigh iconic in cinema circles.

Besides, it's not a given that this movie will suck (merely highly probable). Linklater, despite his occasional misfires, is a capable filmmaker. Part of the charm of the original was the fact that, even with the tough guy posturing, these were just little kids. How you duplicate that in the present - with our cynical, hard-bitten youth of today - is beyond me, although he could just go the Starsky and Hutch* route and set the remake in the 1970s. He showed with Dazed and Confused that he knows the decade pretty well.

So who do you get to play Amanda? I mean, most of the rest of the team could be populated with generic males, but Amanda was the cornerstone of the team. Tatum O'Neal was 13 at the time, but still convincing as a tomboyish pre-teen. My guess is they're going to have to go with an unknown, or just chuck that whole storyline and hire Lindsay Lohan. Boobs trump childhood chutzpah, after all.

* One of the worst movies I've seen all year, by the way

"I sure do love that dog."
"I think it's a pig."
"Yeah."

Lucky, lucky Longhorns:

FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. (AP) -- Cedric Benson rushed for 188 yards and scored two touchdowns and No. 7 Texas took advantage of a late Arkansas fumble deep in Longhorns' territory to hold off the Razorbacks 22-20 on Saturday night.

The Longhorns turned their oldtime rivals back three times in the final 9:58 after Arkansas closed within two. Razorbacks quarterback Matt Jones gave up the crucial fumble and Texas recovered at the 8 with three minutes left.

Jones' desperation pass was intercepted on the game's final play.

Not even a game's worth of Mack Brown's unimaginative playcalling (Benson up the middle...repeat) and Vince Young's shaky passing could stop the 'Horns from backing into a W. The defense looked okay against the run, and eventually got it together to get a pass rush going, but - El Ced notwithstanding - the offense still looked shaky, and there's less than a month to go to the Red River Shootout. Six punts is simply unacceptable.

Still, I'll take it. I'll take it because I hate Arkansas and their penchant for celebrating every defensive stop (even after a 7-yard run by the opposing tailback) like they'd just sacked Osama bin Laden. And because they had three points they didn't earn after that weak call in the 4th quarter that gave the Razrobacks a pass completion on a trapped ball. And because I grew sick of all the discussion of what a laid-back Arkansas QB Matt Jones is. Here's a thought: maybe if he'd been a little more intense he wouldn't have thrown two picks and fumbled on the drive that should've given his team the lead.

And because Houston Nutt is a stupid name.

Finally, can we stop with the upside-down horns thing? I'd love to come right out and admit that the whole thing irritates me, but it doesn't. Rather, I'm perplexed that so many Texas opponents showcase their lack of creativity by simply inverting our hand sign. Not that there's any hurry, I suppose. Arkansas fans won't have to be making Top 25 banners anytime soon, and besides, those swine hats are really quite flattering.

"It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than 12 MPG."

More word is starting to come out about the changes included in the upcoming Star Wars DVD release:

The first reviews are going up in the media for the upcoming original "Star Wars Trilogy" DVD boxsets, and answers are at last coming through about all the rumoured new changes in regards to certain shots and scenes in the movies.

The biggest change that will have fans screaming is the confirmed replacement of Sebastian Shaw with Hayden Christensen as Anakin's ghost at the end of "Return of the Jedi". Why Christensen is there but McGregor hasn't replaced Obi-Wan seems a glaring continuity error.

Other changes will receive a more mixed reaction. The hologram of the Emperor in "The Empire Strikes Back" done by an old woman and voiced by Clive Revell has been replaced by Ian McDiarmid who played him in the prequels and "Return of the Jedi". The speech has been changed too and gives away the Luke-Vader connection early on.

Most other scenes have just been cleaned and tidied up a bit with more detail - the lightsabers, the Jabba the Hut scenes in "A New Hope", Naboo being included in the Jedi celebrations (although the Emperor statue demolition has been pulled), Luke no longer screaming during his Empire fall, and now Greedo and Han fire at the same time.

Pics of the assorted changes can be found at Digital Bits. Mark Hamill talked about the release recently (and potential future films), his talk can be found at IESB.

Lucas is like a little kid faced with an unwelcome bedtime. He keeps arguing for fifteen more minutes, then ten, finally his mother gives him five more minutes, and he giggles madly to himself at his victory. That's what the Han-Greedo thing amounts to. Of all the changes in the Special Editions, Greedo shooting first was, to fans, the biggest betrayal of the original characters (I'm surprised Luke didn't scream when he plummeted down the shaft in the original...the whiny little bitch). Of everything that was added or altered, that scene in the cantina was the most obvious and least technologically accomplished, and his ultimate idea of a compromise turns out to be having them both shoot at the same time.

Whatever you do, don't try to take his woobie away.

As for the Sebastian Shaw thing...I suppose it's possible Lucas has some explanation about why Qui-Gon didn't become all twinkly like everyone else, or why Obi-Wan is old and busted Alec Guinness and not new hotness Ewan McGregor, but I'm not holding my breath. Replacing Alec Guinness would've been more problematic, due to the number of post-mortem scenes in which Obi-Wan appears. And I wouldn't be surprised if McGregor balked at the idea of replacing those shots.

Naturally the changes are causing a huge amount of reaction from the SW nutters, so Lucasfilm reps are already out and spoke to Sci-Fi Wire about the changes and why they happened: "It comes down to what [Lucas] has said constantly, which is that he very strongly believes in an artist's right to have his work presented in the way he wants it presented. In terms of your own personal art, and how you want it to be presented, the artist has that right. With the '97 version of the film, or what he feels is closer to his original vision, he couldn't accomplish [certain things] back in 1977, and people either like it, or they don't. We respect that point of view. But at the end of the day George feels very strongly about artists' rights".

Right. Why hasn't he gone back to revamp Howard the Duck, then? Talk about not getting things accomplished. That sucker regularly makes all-time worst movie lists, and we're supposed to believe it ended up exactly as Lucas intended?

Lucas gives a rat's ass about "artists' rights." Otherwise Dave Prowse would've been credited in the original Star Wars, and Shaw wouldn't be getting the digital screw job now. And that's to say nothing of the countless painters and sculptors getting their original work whitewashed in the name of Lucas' "true" vision.

If he "respects our point of view," he'd release the unaltered films, simple as that. Because when it comes right down to it, the only reason Lucas has his vast media empire is thanks to the love people have for the original versions. That he continues to hold out like the petulant brat he is only proves he doesn't respect anything but his own ego and wallet.

Sweet zombie Jesus

As alluded to earlier somewhere in one of those comment sections further down the page, my review of Resident Evil: Apocalypse is up at Film Threat.

If the aggregate scores at Rotten Tomatoes (22% fresh) and Metacritic (metascore: 33/100) are any indication, I appear to be in the minority in that I actually enjoyed it. Whatever. I was due.

Fear my mad prognostication skillz

With the Patriots win last night, my team - Los Bastardos - is ranked first in the Public League of Yahoo! Sports Pro Football Pick'Em. Check it out:

Given that I am tied with roughly 300,000 other players, I feel it is prudent at this juncture to announce my retirement from the game. It feels great to go out on top. And I'd just like to thank Jesus, Coach Holocek, and Al Gore for inventing this awesome thing called the internet. Peace out.

Open letter to that guy at the movies last night

Hi there. You don't know me, but I can see you sitting a few rows up. Normally, it would be tough for me to get a bead on you, it being dark here in the theater and all, but you've made it especially easy today. For you see, you went and brought your baby along.

I know, complaining about people bringing their offspring to the movies is about as original as bitching about airline food, and normally I'd look the other way and swallow my bile. After all, who doesn't expect children in an afternoon matinee? Or at a Disney/Pixar film? Hell, a guy would have to be on the bad side of W.C. Fields to get up in arms about the presence of little house apes in those situations. Even kids in PG-rated films are getting more commonplace. Just a sign o' the times, as Prince Charles once said.

So it helps that I'm not talking about those situations. You see, this is a late night screening. Of an R-rated movie. About zombies. And the child in your arms is obviously screaming because of the big, scary, pus-covered corpses that keep showing up on screen. Or maybe it's the deafening explosions, or the scary mutated dogs. Perhaps the kid - who doesn't look more than 2 years old - just doesn't want sit still for 90 minutes, but something's got your little one all worked up, darn it all.

Oh good, I see they're about to ask you to leave, but before they do I thought I'd offer a few words of advice, one parent to another.

You're an asshole. Did you even try to justify your moronic decision to bring a small child to a horror movie before you got in the car? Did you think he'd sleep through the nonstop screaming and gunshots? I suppose its possible you've just returned from exile on the Galapagos Islands and are completely ignorant of the attitude of the American moviegoing public, who tend to side with me on issues involving wailing toddlers in the theater. Those in attendance sans rugrats don't have the patience to spare on your kid. Many of them probably went through the added effort of obtaining a sitter for their own children, precisely so they could enjoy a night at the cinema without listening to their crying baby or subjecting anyone else to one.

The idea of finding someone to watch your child probably never entered your mind, or maybe it did. Maybe you tried valiantly to get a babysitter and failed. That's too bad, but instead of following the correct course of action and staying home to watch the Colts-Patriots game, you decided that keeping your child out until almost midnight attending a scary movie is no big deal. Bad dad. No biscuit.

I'm not a perfect parent, by any stretch, and I've barely had nine months to do psychological damage to my own child, but yours is one mistake I won't be duplicating. My kid has plenty of time to freak herself out by sneaking into the living room at night to watch monster movies on TV, or reading horror comics by flashlight, or watching local news. I don't need to help her along by subjecting her to movies she shouldn't be exposed to until she's old enough to sneak into a theater on her own.

Get the hell out of here and take that poor kid with you. And I hope you enjoy sitting up with him all night.

Repent, Florida

You gotta be kidding me...

This is divine retribution for all those Gay Day celebrations at Disneyworld, right? I'm sure that's what Falwell would tell us.

I'm also glad I got to visit Jamaica before it was destroyed.

"And they never ruined their fun by giving in to their throbbing biological urges."

But if you must have sex, make sure it's unprotected. That's the way God and the Texas State Board of Education intended:

AUSTIN - High school students in Houston and elsewhere may not learn about preventing pregnancy and disease in proposed new textbooks that teach abstinence exclusively. The proposed new books were the subject of emotional debate Wednesday during the final of two public hearings before the State Board of Education. More than 300 people signed up to speak about the books, which will be voted on by the Education Board in November.

Critics of the books, which will replace 11-year-old texts, said that they lack a discussion of condoms and contraception in violation of the curriculum requirement that health books "analyze the effectiveness and ineffectiveness of barrier protection and other contraceptive methods."

For example, Holt, Rinehart and Winston's Lifetime Health lists 10 steps for students to protect themselves from sexually transmitted diseases. The use of latex condoms is not one of them. Students are advised, however, to get plenty of rest.

I understand self-flagellation and the ritual "casting out" of the offending bacillum are recommended as well.

There's some good news, of a sort, if you're in Houston:

The Houston Independent School District has an "abstinence-plus" program, which means that classes discuss contraceptives and birth control in middle and high schools, officials said.

The main high school textbook, Making Life Choices, and the teaching stress that abstinence is best to prevent HIV infection, sexually transmitted diseases and teen pregnancy. But students are instructed on various contraceptive methods, reliability rates of each and how to access other resources.

HISD emphasized that parents have the right to remove their child from any part of the district's human sexuality instruction.

Was this an option for all Texas lesson plans? If so, I have a bone to pick with my parents about leaving me in that damn Analytic Geometry class.

Of course, telling teenagers not to do something always works. A Columbia University study determined that something like 80% of teens who signed those stupid abstinence pledges ended up knocking boots anyway. But this isn't about the "inevitability" of teens having sex or the myth that information about contraception will suddenly turn all teens into rutting elk (hormones take care of that on their own), but about protecting your kids.

Unless these people just can't wait for grandchildren.

The Austin hearing featured testimony from parents, students, doctors and teachers. One speaker prayed for the removal from office of public officials who support comprehensive sex education.

Contrary to popular opinion, El Jefe doesn't really care about who sits on the Board of Education. But as long as we're putting in our requests for stupid shit, I'd like to see the Bears win the Super Bowl and Freaks and Geeks back on the air.

Rep. Bill Zedler, R-Arlington, praised the books for omitting information about contraceptives. He said those decisions should be made by local school boards as the "best way to have parental involvement."

Except that preaching abstinence is the furthest thing from "parental involvement." However, as a means to avoid confronting your kids' questions and trivializing any conflict they may be feeling, it's aces.

And let's not forget the exclamation point:

Rep. Jessica Farrar, D-Houston, urged the education board to reject all four proposed books as not meeting curriculum requirements.

"It is a sad day in our state when we rank first nationally in the number of teenage pregnancies but we are on the verge of approving health textbooks that do not mention contraceptive methods," Farrar said.

Hey, if Jesus wants our teenagers to have sex, who are we to doubt Him?

"This is Ceti Alpha V!"

Sounds like the Mormons are going to have to make way for a "new matrix," now that the Genesis device has crashed in Utah. I always liked the place, but I can understand the government's desire to clear out the existing population in favor of creating a brand new habitat that will, hopefully, attract something besides polygamists.

What's that?

The Genesis return capsule crashed in the desert on Wednesday after its parachutes failed to deploy. The craft missed a mid-air retrieval meant to save the spacecraft from impacting the Earth.

"The capsule has suffered extensive damage. It has broken apart on the desert floor," said an official on NASA TV. "Hopefully, there will be enough evidence to see what went wrong. Whether there will be enough science left inside remains to be seen."

"Are you insane, Frink? Put down that science pole!"

Oh, heh heh...that Genesis. Must've been thinking of something else. Naturally, I'm ecstatic that the Mormon Church will continue to thrive in my former home state. Laws, yes.

I guess Spock won't be dropping by, either.

"It's Saturday night, I have no date, a two liter bottle of Shasta, and my all-Rush mix tape. Let's rock!"

What possible better use could we find for our big, shiny consoles than playing 20 year-old games?

Atari wants to take you back in time, and to get there, you can ride a "Centipede" or an "Asteroid," or bounce back and forth between the pixilated paddles of "Pong."

The video game company told The Associated Press on Tuesday it plans to reissue scores of its classic titles from yesteryear on a single disc that can be played on the game consoles Xbox and PlayStation 2.

"Atari Anthology" will feature 85 games and is scheduled to go on sale in November at a cost of about $20.

Finally, a legitimate reason not to get that old 2600 running. And it only took me five years of procrastinating while it gathered dust in a closet.

I couldn't find a comprehensive list of the 85 games in question, though I assume old standards like Asteroids, Missile Command, Adventure, and Space Invaders will be included. No word on any Activision titles (though I think there's an A-vision compilation floating around already), which means my beloved River Raid may be missing in action.

And it must have Berzerk. "Intruder alert," indeed.

But it's only one of the nostalgia projects Atari will push into the market then. The second is Atari Flashback, a slightly miniaturized version of the old Atari 7800 from the mid-'80s. It will have 20 games built into it, including "Breakout," "Solaris," "Crystal Castles" and "Battlezone."

Flashback will sell for $45 and include a pair of old-school joysticks.

Atari isn't expecting its decades-old games to compete on a technical level, like "Grand Theft Auto: Vice City," "Halo" and "Madden NFL 2005" that feature colorful realistic graphics, fast-moving 3-D action and the freedom to roam at will.

Instead, the company is aiming at the nostalgia market.

"It's a time machine. You go back to your childhood and you play," Atari chief executive Bruno Bonnell said.

I don't know anyone who bought the 7800, as the Colecovision system was pretty much the shiznit (or "gnarly," as we used to say) at the time. For that reason, the Flashback console sounds like a bad idea. Still $45 isn't too expensive for a conversation piece.

As for the "time machine" angle - and Brian aka "seadogs" can back me up on this - all those games are fun for the five minutes it takes you to go from "Man, I used to love this game!" to "Whoa, these joysticks are pretty unresponsive," to "Wait, I thought I could fly wraparound, when did that change?" to "Okay, next game." He and I went through about 30 cartridges in 45 minutes one night at a friend's house, then decided to check for something to watch on TV. I predict repeat playability for these games will be virtually nil.

But again, it's only $20. And I can pretty much guarantee I'll be buying it, so I'm not sure why I'm even bothering to pretend otherwise.

The "Atari Anthology" disc will offer new twists on the games, too: "trippy mode," which renders the graphics in psychedelic colors, and "time warp" and "double speed," which can alter the pace of on-screen action.

Going for the late night stoner crowd, I see. That's a huge market. Today's stoners are a lot more discerning about their hallucinogenic entertainment, however.

Or so I'm told.

There's an Atari 2600 on the back bar at the Houston Continental Club. Many were the times, while waiting for Slobberbone or the Flametrick Subs to take the stage, that I killed half an hour reliving my depressingly unremarkable pre-adolescence. And no behavior I can think of treads quite so fine a line between nerd and disaffected urban hipster as drinking Schlitz while playing "Adventure" surrounded by a crowd of depressingly hot goth ladies. Somehow I manage.

Mission accomplished yet?

No? Well, maybe another 1,000 will do it:

BAGHDAD, Iraq (CNN) -- Four U.S. troops died in Iraq on Tuesday, bringing the total of Americans killed in the 18-month-old war to 1,002.

More than three-quarters of those killed, 756 of them, have died in combat, and 647 of those have been killed since President Bush declared an end to major combat operations in Iraq on May 1, 2003.

According to a CNN tally, 1,129 coalition troops from 15 nations have died in Iraq.

Rafterman: "Well, at least they died for a good cause."
Animal Mother: "What cause is that?"
Rafterman: "Freedom."
Animal Mother: "Flush out your headgear, new guy."

Conversations with Famous People, Pt. 9

The Year: 2003
The Place: Meyerland Plaza Theater, Houston, Texas (the "world premiere" of One Last Dance)
The Person: Actor Patrick Swayze

Pete: There he is.
The Wife: Who?
Pete: Swayze. Now's my chance.
The Wife: Don't do it.
Pete: [yelling] You were the bomb in Steel Dawn, Swayze!
Patrick Swayze: <conufsed look and wave>
The Wife: <slugs Pete in the arm>

Nobody puts Baby in a corner, not even "Conversations with Famous People."

"Blow ye winds
Like the trumpet blows
But without that noise"

Tony Perkins, morning weather personality extraordinnaire, was on Good Morning America today sporting a jaunty patch over his left eye due to injuries sustained while covering Frances' tap dance across Florida this weekend. Specifically, Tony got a scratch on his cornea from sand blown into his eye at 80 mph. Serves his dumb ass right.

He appeared to be the only unlucky weather-related weatherman casualty this time around. True, some idiot reporter for The Weather Channel had to get dragged out of the way of a car bumper getting blown at her, and meteorological stud Jim Cantore made a point of filing his reports standing at a 45 degree angle (the better to demonstrate the storm's powerful winds), but none of our other precious TV personalities were seriously injured.

Unless getting blown onto your ass counts, in which case this whole weekend was like the Confederate hospital scene in Gone with the Wind.

As I've said before, as soon as one of these people files their report from a bar or an indoor "hurricane party," drink in hand, and remarks, "You'd have to be a complete moron to be outside in a storm like this," I'll know I've found my weatherperson. Until then, I'll just have to keep watching the TV coverage until Jim Cantore gets a piece of siding through his chest.

The greatest thing I have ever seen

Far be it from me to make fun of someone for staging a performance piece set to Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On," because who among us hasn't been there? But I was struck by this young man's sincerity, as well as the mortal desperation that went in to putting this video presentation together. The phrase, "Hopefully you'll call me after this," uttered as he begins his tour de force, really says it all.

Thanks to the Thing Who Walks Like A Man, even though we'll ignore the fact that he probably stumbled upon this during one of his thrice-daily internet searches for "pimp."

And make sure to pay attention around the 2:05 mark for some very special garment rending.

Gallo's pole

Heh. I just got word of a press screening for Vincent Gallo's The Brown Bunny next week. If you haven't heard of Bunny, you're one of the lucky ones. Its premiere at last year's Cannes Film Festival was disastrous (Roger Ebert: "My colonoscopy was more entertaining that this film."), even if audiences were intrigued/repulsed at word of Gallo's 10-minute (non-simulated) oral sex scene with co-star Chloe Sevigny.

Now, apparently, Gallo has edited it down, excising 27 minutes, and the movie's actually receiving some decent reviews (even from Ebert). Other favorable nods comment on the film's '70s sensibility, which is apparently a good thing. My interpretation is that these reviewers are trying to defend the film's lack of plot.

Call me old fashioned, but I prefer a little narrative to go along with my fellatio. Still, I'll withhold judgement until I've checked it out for myself. This is what I'm told reviewers are supposed to do, anyway.

September surprise?

Still waiting for the "suspicious timing" comments to start with regards to Bill Clinton's heart problems:

"Former President Bill Clinton is being admitted to New York-Presbyterian Hospital today and is scheduled to have bypass surgery.

"The former president went to Northern Westchester Hospital yesterday afternoon after experiencing mild chest pain and shortness of breath. Initial testing was normal and he spent the night at home in nearby Chappaqua, New York. After undergoing additional testing this morning at Westchester Medical Center, doctors advised he should undergo bypass surgery."

If Samuel Goldwyn Films has a lick of sense, they'll snag Clinton straight out of the OR and put him on a publicity tour with Morgan Spurlock to promote Super Size Me. I remember the footage back in the gay '90s of Clinton and Secret Service entourage jogging around DC, but if Jim Fixx taught us anything, it's that you can run 100 miles a week and still drop dead if you eat too many goddamn Big Macs, and Clinton was never shy about his love for crappy fast food.

In search of...

There have been a number of news stories this week about the search for extraterrestrial life. First, there was an apparent detection of a radio signal from space by SETI, then the quick debunking of such claims, and finally a CNN story about how alien civilizations might use physical means to contact us, rather than radio waves.

All this fills me with a feeling of dread. My conception of alien visitors has been shaped by movies like Alien and The Thing, not ET and Close Encounters. This attitude is a direct result of conversations with my grandfather, a retired general who apparently served in some clandestine military organization. We aren't allowed to visit him anymore, but I still write when I can.

Digging through some old papers, I discovered a letter my grandfather sent me after I wrote him about the SETI@Home project, which uses home computers to analyze radio telescope date. He wasn't pleased, to put it mildly. I've transcribed the letter here, for your edification. It's a bit long, but well worth the read.

It was with growing trepidation and concern that I read your letter explaining the purpose of the so-called "Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence." If I understand correctly, a group of overpaid horses' asses are sending radio signals into the cosmos in the hopes(!) that some...thing on the receiving end will respond. What happens after that is probably unclear to these eggheads, so let me be the first to throw a bucket of water on the high-tech circle jerk going on.

As a military man, it doesn't surprise me to hear this kind of pie-in-the-sky horseshit from a bunch of Ivy Leaguers who've never seen the business end of an Arcturan spine liquefier. Apparently some in this country have forgotten those hellish days, not so long ago, when mankind fought for its very existence against all manner of slimy, intergalactic fiends. Certainly, there were sycophants and toadies on this planet even then, those who told you that Invasion of the Body Snatchers was an "allegory for McCarthyism," or similar nonsense. We who had been in the trenches knew, of course, and we foolishly waited for the rest of the mouth-breathers on this planet to wise up.

We'd be waiting a long time, as it turned out. Soon enough, that acid-dropping bastard Roddenberry foisted his twisted Utopian view on the good television viewers of this country. Gone were the (accurate) scenes of giant, bug-eyed daughter thieves from the Death Nebula. They were replaced by the (wildly erroneous) images of a goody goody, hand-holding, hippie paradise where man and alien worked, lived, even slept together. The mindless sheep of America ate this Star Trek garbage up with a spoon, forgetting everything they'd learned about triffids, Metalunans, and the Krell. Before I knew it, people were joking about alien abduction and wearing flying saucer tee-shirts. All the work we'd done seemed for naught.

Given today's appeasement-minded climate, it took little to wipe the last of my doubts away. And obliterated they were, like the frogs at Dienbienphu, by the foolhardy embrace of the so-called "SETI Project." It's no longer enough to shoot primitive signals into the ether or send rickety probes beyond the solar system. Voyager - that's a hoot. Imagine if the Incas, in their infinite wisdom, had sent a bottle across the Atlantic for Pizarro to pick up that contained not only detailed schematics of their soft underbellies, but a for Christ's sakes MAP to Peru. Obviously, the fact they did no such thing doesn't exactly help them now, but what's to stop some interstellar conquistadors from snatching up our crude attempt at reaching out and following it all the way back to the third planet in the Sol system? Only to them it's not "Sol," but rather "Harvest Sector 97767D."

Now these pencil-necked geeks are actively participating in this insanity. I'm told one can actually download a program, called "SETI@Home," no less, that allows your home computers to be compromised. The horror...thousands upon thousands of interconnected machines all stained by this madness. The time has come to set the record straight, to sound the call to arms, and pull the wool away from our eyes before it's too late.

Extraterrestrial infiltration is a fact. Those bureaucratic suckholes you mindlessly send to Washington, DC every four years have been compromised since before the Civil War. In fact, if not for John Wilkes Booth you'd all be vacuuming algae in the Crab Nebula. Sic temper tyrannis indeed.

These people, with your fancy-ass degrees and their fluffy prose, sitting in those opium dens they call homes, smoking "chronic" and watching that X-Files garbage. Forget Roswell and all your trendy Hollywood conspiracy theory crap. The truth is HERE, I know. My fellows have fought these sonsabitches and their pungent human lackeys since the Tunguska Incursion of 1909. I was but a whelp then, but rest assured I'd been cleaning EBE clock decades before that Chris Carter punk wet his pants viewing those first episode of Night Stalker.

I've watched, helpless, while men in my battalion, men I considered brothers, were ruthlessly and repeatedly probed. I led a special battalion in the incineration of "compromised" civilians. The press called us barbarians. How, they asked, how could we set upon a town full of innocent people? With about thirty USMC-issue M240 flame-throwers, was my answer. I would have had that meatloaf-headed Andromedan back in 1982 if it wasn't for those darn kids and their illegal flying bicycles. Hide one goddamn grey and it's curtains for the human race, mark my words.

I know they think you're being helpful, but wake up. When the invasion begins, we're not going to be inundated by cute little Muppets, like in that terrible third Star Wars movie, but by giant asteroid dwelling worms, like in that fine second Star Wars movie. And you stooges with code signatures like herpes all over their computers will be the first into the vat, my friend.

The Gipper had it right; the SDI system was perfect, only it wasn't designed to be directed earthward, but outward! The best military minds of the 1980's conceived of a brilliant defensive shield against alien incursion, and those bleeding-heart pansies killed it. Of course, they'll whine and bitch about preserving a few measly acres of South American trees, but when it comes to saving the whole planet, they somehow can't grow a pair. Well, I hope those hippies enjoy the rest of their lifetimes in galactic servitude. When they come for me I'll have a little surprise waiting for them, and it won't be Richard Dreyfus playing some goddamned neon music box, either.

Thank you, and God bless the United States of America and Planet Earth.

Maj. General "Buck" Vonder Haar (Ret) USA

Sorry, he signs all his letters that way.

Bad TV Ponderings - The Undecided Vote

This probably shouldn't surprise anyone, but it appears people who have yet to choose a side in the upcoming Presidential election also happen to like really crappy TV shows:

Politicians looking to buy spots on television shows to sway undecided voters learned Tuesday that the most popular one among the undecideds is CBS's Everybody Loves Raymond. A study by media buyers Interactive Media Worldwide said that the undecideds also favor My Wife and Kids, CSI: Miami, JAG, and Will & Grace. The same study indicated that Will & Grace is also the Democrats' favorite show, while Raymond is the Republicans'.

Further proving that lack of taste knows no political affiliation. Small surprise the undecided voter's inability to take a firm stand on issues coincides with their love of poorly written, hackneyed programming.

Though I can think of at least two reasons to watch JAG.

That last part really gives ammo to both sides of the spectrum. Republicans can mock the Dems for watching a TV show that cloaks its homosexual stereotyping as "cutting edge comedy," while Democrats should feel free to point out that Raymond is network TV's latest case of 'the emperor's new clothes.' Repeatedly claiming that a show is "the funniest ever" doesn't make it true, and the continued success of Everybody Loves Raymond continues to mystify.

Makes sense, of course. If one is too wishy-washy to have figured out which candidate to support by now, it stands to reason their intense feelings of confusion would be assuaged by these programs, which are the TV equivalent of comfort food: empty calories that leave one with a lingering feeling of self-loathing and bloat.

There's hope, though. The new season of The Wire starts September 19.

Q: Are We Not Men?
A: We Are Bevo

As a University of Texas alum, I guess I like our mascot. I believe live, potentially dangerous animals are more fun than some doofus with short man complex who puts on a big styrofoam head and deludes himself into thinking the cheerleaders like him. I'm speaking specifically of Bevo, Ralphie - the Colorado buffalo, and also carnivores like Mike the Tiger (LSU), Joy and Lady - Baylor's bears, and Uga, the Georgia Bulldog.

Certain other stupid dog mascots shall remain nameless.

What surprised me about this story was that the current incarnation of Bevo has been walking the sidelines for 16 years. That's some tough beef:

AUSTIN -- It's official. Bevo XIII, the University of Texas steer mascot, is being put out to pasture to make way for a new longhorn.

Pregame and halftime ceremonies at Saturday night's football home-opener against North Texas will usher in a new Bevo, a 2-year-old checking in at about 1,300 pounds.

Officials with the Silver Spurs spirit club that manages the mascot have been considering retiring the 20-year-old Bevo XIII since before last season's Holiday Bowl.

More likely, the cost of keeping the poor bastard doped up on Vetamine became prohibitive. You know, after a few years, they just have to keep taking more and more to maintain.

I think it would an add an element of suspense if the live mascots were taken off the drugs and randomly released from confinement at some point during a game. Plenty of chance to unleash some pent-up aggression, and I'll bet LSU's tiger would sure like a crack at A&M's yell leaders.

Bevo XIII is the longest tenured Bevo. With a 124-67-2 record during his tenure, he has seen more Longhorns victories than any other Bevo.

Mack Brown wishes he had such a good record. Not like he's going to be around for 16 years, at any rate.

Muecke said Bevo XIV was donated by the same rancher who owns Bevo XIII. The new mascot stands about 5 1/2 feet at the hind legs. His horn span currently measures 56 inches, a mere whisker compared to Bevo XIII's span of 5 feet, 7 inches from tip to tip.

According to the Silver Spurs, the Longhorn "represents courage, fighting ability, nerve, lust of combat, efficiency in deadly encounters and the holy spirit of 'Never Say Die.'" The first Bevo was dragged onto the field at the Texas-Texas A&M game in 1916.

Where he killed fifteen men before a young Paul "Bear" Bryant wrestled him to the ground and broke his neck.

All due respect to the Silver Spurs, but that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. "Lust of combat?" "Efficiency in deadly encounters?" These aren't bullfighting toros, after all. You could walk up to most steers with a 16-pound sledge and put an end to them right there.

He stood behind the end zone through the final three years of coach David McWilliams' struggles, the tumultuous era of John Mackovic and the program's resurrection under Mack Brown.

He watched Texas win three Southwest Conference titles and its only Big 12 title, in 1996. A year later, he bore the shame when UCLA beat the 'Horns 66-3 at Royal Memorial Stadium.

Rumors that Bevo had placed a rather hefty sum of money on the Bruins were never confirmed.

In the 1999 Big 12 title game in San Antonio, Bevo left a lasting memory for many Longhorns fans. After Texas lost to Nebraska 22-6, Bevo's handlers were walking him out of the stadium when nature called. With perfect timing, he left his mark squarely on the Cornhuskers' logo.

"A crowning achievement," said Ricky Brennes, a board member of the Silver Spurs alumni group.

So you say. I'd rather have won that Big 12 title game.

Vanity kills, it don't pay bills

Almost forgot, my review of Vanity Fair is up at Film Threat. It opened Wednesday, in order to get a jump on what will undoubtedly be the one-two box office punch of Paparazzi (not screened for the press) and Wicker Park (not a sequel to The Wicker Man).

Lighten up, Frances

I've been hearing from my family about the destruction Charley left behind a few weeks ago, now it looks like Frances could be even worse. Grandmom in Ft. Myers should, if current forecasts hold, escape the brunt of this one. But people on the eastern coast of Florida need to get the hell out of Dodge.

Hopefully my friend Mac and his family (situated on the upper Florida coast) have already packed up the family truckster and are on their way to Kentucky with all speed.

My father the card

Someone challenged me on my assertion (made more than once) that the movie Jaws scared me so much as a child I wouldn't take a bath. They claimed such a statement was ridiculous, since everyone - even an 8-year old like myself who once swallowed an entire bottle of Flintstone Chewables - knows sharks don't swim in fresh water and, more importantly, they can't squeeze their way up the plumbing to get you.

First, there are so freshwater sharks. Bull sharks have been known to swim up freshwater rivers, and have been found over 2,000 miles from the mouth of the Amazon. One variety lives in Lake Nicaragua, giving me an idea for the next Jaws sequel, featuring a group of people fleeing the Sandinistas who stumble across a giant predator while crossing the lake to escape (they're eventually saved by Oliver North and Eugene Hasenfus). In any event, the saltwater argument doesn't...hold water, to coin a phrase.

As for swimming up the pipes, well, no kidding. But you're mistaken to think that 8-year olds are able to discern warm and fuzzy reality from the cold and irrational terror so integral to their existence. To them, sharks can lurk in swimming pools, vampires can hide in the fireplace, and your dog could easily become possessed by Satan, just to name a few examples from my own childhood.

Why don't parents just reason with their children, you ask? This might work, and it's something I'll probably try on my own kids, but I couldn't personally speak to its effectiveness, because my father preferred another tactic: sadism.

I should point out that I didn't even see the movie Jaws until several years after it's theatrical release. I'd read the book, which (once I skipped over all the boring chapters detailing Ellen's tryst with Hooper) did quite an effective job scaring the bejeezus out of me. My mom checked it out, however, and true to my sense of masochism, I grilled her the next day on all the gory details, which she was only too happy to provide.

As if that wasn't enough, the popularity of the film was such that it created a niche market for "shark attack" magazines. I was a big fan of these, spending hours in our local 7-11 enraptured by the hideous pictures and lurid prose. It was all bullshit, of course, but to me it only cemented by belief that anyone stupid enough to enter the water might as well have been wearing a suit of ground chuck.

Unsurprisingly, I wasn't keen on baths. We didn't have a shower head back then, so that wasn't an option, and bath time soon became an exercise in exasperation for my mother (and an occasion of black terror for yours truly).

Things reached a peak one Saturday at the height of my shark hysteria. The bath was run, and I disrobed with a sense of dread, stalling the inevitable immersion as long as possible. My pre-adolescent imagination swam with images of toothy monsters lurking just beyond the drain, which led not to a narrow galvanized steel pipe, but rather a vast reservoir - McElligott's Pool style - teeming with great whites, makos, and hammerheads. Why, all it would take was one misstep and the porcelain would crack, dumping me into their midst.

After much delaying, and frequent threats from my mother about hosing me off in the front yard (a prospect which shamed me more than it probably should have), I entered the tub. I didn't sit. Oh no. I stood, butt nekkid, over the rapidly cooling water, trying to steel myself for the ordeal of bathing. Mom finally stuck her head in one last time, admonishing me to sit my ass down, as she wasn't going to run any more hot water.

The cruel harpy was right, I decided. Slowly, inexorably, I lowered myself into the water. This wouldn't be so bad, I thought: it's a tub, for crying out loud, and we're 700 miles from the nearest ocean. I'll just wash up real quick and laugh about my folly later.

It was at this point when my father, the arch comedian, who no doubt had been loitering just outside the bathroom for just the moment when my quaking buttocks were about to enter the water, burst into the bathroom. "Look out for the SHARK!" he screamed, simultaneously slamming the door against the tub and turning out the light.

Man's responses to fear are as varied as the delicious varieties of smokeless tobacco, and now - almost 30 years removed from the incident - it's hard for me to remember exactly how I reacted to this thoughtless incursion. I'm pretty sure all that happened was that I leapt clear of the tub, in a gymnastic display that would've made Nadia Comeneci proud, and shrieked, "Daaaaaaad!" All this was lost on my father, however, who was laughing so hard he found it nearly impossible to defend himself from my mother's blows.

Strangely enough, the bathtub phobia went away shortly thereafter. Maybe I finally saw the stupidity of it. More likely it marked the first step on my long road to ultimate revenge against my father. Vengeance against one's parents takes many forms, including underage drinking and poor academic performance, and I'm proud to say I've explored them all. I haven't yet decided if the final trump card will be an unlicensed nursing home or my becoming a Cubs fan. No hurry, Dad's a healthy sort, and there's plenty of time.

But I still don't like baths.

For Peenman, wherever I may find him

A picture is sometimes worth less than a thousand words:

"Dude, check it out. I paused the DVD right where Friedkin spliced in that frame of the leering demon face."

I suppose you can do better?