A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

At least it wasn't "I Wanna Sex U Up"

Three days spent doing little besides drinking beer and swimming mean I'm up against it today. In other words, any more updates are unlikely until late, late tonight/early tomorrow.

There is one thing I want to get off my chest, however. If you're one of these young, snotty bands inspired (like thousands of others) by the success of Green Day and Limp Bizkit, who think it's time to take a crack at recording a cover or two, please try to remember a few things:

1. Bring something new to the song. Straight up renditions of tunes made popular by other artists aren't going to set you apart from the masses of wannabe Ramones out there. At the very least, bring a little levity. The Ataris really dropped the ball on their irony-free do-over of Don Henley's "The Boys of Summer."

2. At the same time, try not to let a cover define you as a band. I thought Alien Ant Farm's "Smooth Criminal" was pretty amusing, but they never should have allowed that to be the first single from their first album. They might as well just play that as the opeing song at every concert from here on and out and give everyone to chance to duck out and go home to catch SportsCenter.

3. Don't try to tackle a song you don't have the chops to handle. I'm looking at you, My Chemical Romance/The Used. It's bad enough that they decided to take on "Under Pressure" by Queen and David Bowie, but none of the vocalists involved can come within ten miles of Freddie Mercury, or even two miles of Bowie. And then they try to make up for it by using that same disaffected suburban white boy snarl that makes almost all music of that ilk unlistenable. Bad show, lads.

I'm not going to do an entirely new covers post, but of the ones I've heard recently, I can recommend "Jolene" by the White Stripes and "Gin and Juice" by the Gourds.

The latter isn't exactly recent, but I can always recommend it.

I knew all these remakes would end up killing someone eventually

Now there's a negative review[1]:

Veteran actor Eddie Albert, twice nominated for an Oscar but best remembered for his starring role on the long-running sitcom Green Acres, died in Los Angeles on Thursday at age 99. He received Academy Award nominations for supporting actor in 1953's Roman Holiday and 1972's The Heartbreak Kid. But it was Albert's six-year stint on CBS's Green Acres from 1965 to 1971 that brought him everlasting fame.

This blurb leaves out the fact that Albert also played the role of Warden Hazen in 1974's The Longest Yard. Now, I can't speak with authority about what finally made the man's heart quit on him. Maybe it was the lingering aftereffects of starring in The Concorde: Airport '79, maybe it was the fact that he never found closure in the Witch Mountain saga. History may never know the answer.

Then again, it isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that Albert saw what Adam Sandler and company did to his classic film and just gave up.

And, of course, the guy was 99 years old. RIP, Mr. Albert.

[1] Speaking of reviews.

The skeletonization of Hollywood

Sure, you think you've got me pegged. You think this will be yet another in a series of tired blog entries about how Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie need to eat a damn sandwich. Sorry to disappoint, but I have a hard time mustering one shit to give about either Lohan or the Spawn of Lionel, much less the requisite two.

Peter Jackson, on the other hand:

Looks good, doesn't he? You're probably thinking, "Gee, it's nice he was able to shed some weight and improve his health. The guy was a ticking time bomb of obesity-related disorders, and if he can keep his weight down he'll be in for a much longer and happoer life."

You people are idiots.

Fat Peter Jackson won about a gazillion Oscars for the Lord of the Rings trilogy, including Best Picture, something a sci-fi/fantasy movie hasn't accomplished since, well, ever.

There's no scientific proof that Jackson carried his considerable directorial talent in his gut, and try as I might, I've been unable to come up with an effective formula equating a director's skill with his girth. Kurosawa and Scorcese are both slender fellows, but so are Michael Bay and Uwe Boll. Decent directors Guillermo Del Toro and Mike Leigh are hefty guys, as are Bob Clark (Baby Geniuses) and Jesse Dylan (Kicking & Screaming).

The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I suspect, was a success due to the pressure Jackson was dealing with by being a largely unproven director trying to shoot three movies simultaneously. He's obviously a stress eater, and in the end, this worked out well for the finished product. His weight loss during King Kong might be the result of a more relaxed attitude and the stakes being a little less critical, or it may be that Jackson is dogging it. The former seems more likely, but I'd feel a lot better if Jackson was munching on a couple bear claws in that picture.

Guess they can finally make that Midnight Express sequel

Bummer:

An Indonesian court on Friday sentenced Australian beauty therapist Schapelle Corby to 20 years in jail for trying to smuggle 4.1 kg (9 lb) of marijuana into Bali, triggering outrage from her family and friends.

"The panel of judges declares the defendant legally and convincingly guilty of the crime of illegal importation of narcotics," judge Linton Sirait told a hearing watched live across Australia, where the case has transfixed the nation.

A dangerous drug smuggler getting her just desserts? Or a travesty of justice? Depends on who you ask.

Prosecutors had demanded life in jail for Corby, 27, who has repeatedly argued the drugs found by airport officials in her unlocked bag on the famous holiday island last year were not hers and that they were planted.
...
Her lawyers have insisted many people could have put the drugs into their client's bodyboard bag along the way from Brisbane to Bali, especially because it was not locked.

Corby, from Australia's eastern Gold Coast, changed planes in Sydney and her defense team has said she was the victim of a drug ring running narcotics from Brisbane to Sydney.

I haven't been following this case very closely, and I admit - at first blush it looked like Corby was getting prime exposure because of her looks (where have we heard that before?). The more I read about it...well, I still feel that way. If Corby is a 56 year-old man with a beer gut and neck wattle, nobody outside of Oceania pays any attention. That doesn't mean there might be some truth behind the outrage: no fingerprints were recovered from the evidence, and 15 people were recently arrested in connection with an Australian baggage handling drug ring; the judge in the case has famously stated, "I've been handling more than 500 drug cases but I have never acquitted one;" Indonesia proudly trumpets its victories in the War on Drugs, apparently hoping to keep U.S. eyes off the ugly upsurge of domestic Muslim extremism.

If she is guilty, she was either ignorant of the consequences or purposely flouted them. Neither option is particularly flattering (she's just lucky she wasn't going to Singapore).

Still, this is weed we're talking about, right? What's the danger to life and limb from 9 lbs of hydroponic? Aside from hitting someone on the head with it, I mean? Perhaps the government was worried such high grade herb would put too great a strain on production at Bali's struggling Frito-Lay plant.

UPDATE: The Wife reminds me that Abu Bakar Bashir, convicted of conspiracy in the 2002 Bali bombing, was sentenced to 2 1/2 whole years. So, y'know, priorities.

"Wanna see something really scary?"

While I'm on the subject of the Great Glass Teat (or was, 18 hours ago), I finally got around to watching Bravo's 100 Scariest Movie Moments the other day. I don't have a lot to say about it, since they (predictably) reserved what obscure stuff there was for the bottom 20 (Fulci's Zombie and Black Christmas were right there with Jurassic Park and Child's Play). Plus, it took me about two weeks to slog through all of it, so my recollections might be a little disjointed.

The complete list of movies is here. They don't give with the moments they consider to be the scariest from each film, though if you've seen most of them you can probably guess "The call is coming from inside the house!" would be there from When A Stranger Calls(#28) (and also every time I call my sister...she loves it), or "Is it safe?" would make it from Marathon Man (#65).

Then again, my list of scary movie moments may very well differ from yours. I didn't find Don't Look Now frightening at all, but Dirty Dancing turned my hair almost completely white.

And I probably don't need to remind anyone that RetroCrush did this already. And with some better selections, in my opinion.

You know what's next. Smartass commentary follows after the break.

Obviously, I'm not going to break down the whole list. None of us has time for that.

100. 28 Days Later (running zombies) - A) Not zombies. B) Already done 20 years earlier in Return of the Living Dead.

93. Child's Play (Chucky comes to life) - Really? The big movie poster of a doll holding a knife didn't clue people in that this might happen? Okay then.

86. Wizard of Oz (flying monkeys) - Fly, ape ass, fly! I thought Judy Garland's hair was the scariest thing about this one. Pick a length, girlfriend.

80. Poltergeist (evil clown) - As if you needed further proof that all clowns are evil and must be destroyed.

75. Candyman (she's been goofing with the bees) - The not-so-secret origin of Homer's "dogs with bees in their mouths" tirade.

72. Them! (mmmmm...ribs) - Interchangeable with the bus scene in The Deadly Mantis or the spider menacing the uber-hot Mara Corday in Tarantula, but I imagine they had to limit the number of bug movies.

69. Re-Animator (that's good head) - Scary? Not hardly. Butt-squirmingly oogy? Oh hell yes.

64. Near Dark (putting the spurs to the bartender) - I think the scariest thing about this one (and I'm a big fan) is the atmosphere. Setting the film in rural Oklahoma, which Jesse and company just happen to be passing through, is a great touch. It brings out the quiet desperation of their own lives, and the casual brutality with which they take the lives of others.

63. Deliverance ("Let's you just drop them pants") - Sure, what happens to Ned Beatty's character is horrifying, but for the longest time I went back and forth on whether Deliverance was a horror movie or a chase-style thriller. In the end, I think it is horror, for the simple reason that one of the central tenets of the genre is taking the ordinary and making it scary as shit. If a movie can cause you, when engaging in an otherwise normal activity (be it camping, showering, swimming in the ocean, or...uh, working on a space freighter), to recall the events of that movie and make you look over your shoulder, then it's done its job. Deliverance does its job.

59. Fatal Attraction (what's cookin'?) - Then again, Adrian Lyne's AIDS allegory makes you think twice about something you shouldn't be doing in the first place. Namely, fooling around on the toothsome Anne Archer with the mannish Glenn Close.

48. The Thing (1982) - Don't remember the actual moment, but was probably the blood scene. This should be ranked much higher, as it was one of the only times I regretted sneaking out of bed to watch a movie on HBO, due to subsequent sleep deprivation.

47. Nosferatu (Dracula rising) - Sure, there are scarier vampire movies out there, but think of the impact this scene had in 1922. I'll bet people were getting the vapors all over the place.

42. An American Werewolf in London - Damn. Again, I don't remember which moment they referenced. For me, the worst part was David running away while Jack was getting mauled, then turning around and going back. Because if it was your best friend, you'd have done the same thing.

38. Peeping Tom - Released in 1960, this was light years ahead of its time in terms of addressing issues of audience voyeurism and snuff. And it ruined director Michael Powell's career. Until he became head of the FCC, that is.

30. The Blair Witch Project (go stand in the corner) - For all the bitching about how overhyped this movie was, I saw it opening weekend and I'm not (too) ashamed to say it scared the holy fuck out of me. Its great internet word-of-mouth campaign shouldn't take away from the effectiveness of Myrcik and Sanchez's minimalist approach.

29. The Serpent and the Rainbow ("Please don't let them bury me") - I think Poe's "Buried Alive" is one of his most effective works, so obviously watching Bill Pullman staring up at the coffin lid while dirt thuds down on it kicked off a few of my panic receptors. Yet another reason I'll never go to Haiti.

22. Don't Look Now ('ware the dwarf) - Maybe it was the hype (a friend recommended this to us as "the scariest movie I've ever seen"), but was anybody frightened by the midget with a knife finale?

18. The Haunting (boom!) - Pound for pound, one of the scariest movies I've ever seen. A bunch of us rented this in high school and, jaded Evil Dead fans that we were, joked about the hokey '60s B/W ambience. By film's end, I was backed up against a wall with a blanket pulled up to my chin. A classic.

17. The Omen (might as well jump) - Probably more effective to me as an impressionable Catholic youngster.

13. Scream (Barry-no-more) - Back in the days before I doggedly charted the progress of films before they were released, I was actually surprised by some movies. Scream was one of those rare horror movies that took me by surprise. Pity all of the sequels (and #4 is reportedly on the way) were such crap.

11. Audition (not telling) - If you've seen this, you know the scene. This should be in the top five. I was honestly grateful that I'd voided my bladder before sitting down to watch this, as that scene stuck with me for months. Eli Roth, in one of his few non ass-kissing remarks during the program, accurately described the Asian film community as putting out the best horror of the last fifteen years. Hell, Miike alone could easily have eight of the spots on this list.

5. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (I guess you'll hammer later) - When I was in junior high, the radio ads for the TCM re-release scared me. The combination of grimy realism and the fact that it was Texas sealed the deal for me. I still don't own a chainsaw.

If I have any complaints about the top 5 (TCM, Psycho, The Exorcist, Alien, Jaws) it's that The Exorcist should probably be the highest. I know I've gone on and on about how badly Jaws freaked me out, and Alien is still one of the greatest pure horror films of all time, but The Exorcist is the only one of these that actually frightens me more the older I get. That's got to count for something.

I'd considered adding a list of my own, but I'm too tired and/or drunk right now. Anybody else have some personal faves?

Getting Lost

Found myself in the rare position of being home on a Wednesday night, and being too much of a music fan to ever subject myself to two hours of American Idol, I checked out the Lost season finale.

I did watch the first six episodes of the show or so before losing steam. The setup was interesting, and the idea that the survivors were stranded on some kind of Monster Island amused me, but - I don't know - I guess I'm easily distracted, and several shiny objects interposed themselves between me and the TV over the past months.

Even so, I was able to follow most of what happened last night. For my beneift, could anyone actually paying attention to the show answer these questions?

1) Where did "Dark Territory" come from? Did someone find a map at some point?

2) How did they know there was dynamite on the Black Pearl Rock>?

3) Are there any bad guys left? Sawyer has a heart of gold, Kate - it appears - was just misunderstood. Locke seems like he could be legitimately nuts, I guess.

4) Think J.J. Abrams reads a lot of Michael Crichton?

The finale was an amusing diversion, but I can see Lost sinking into X-Files or Twin Peaks territory, throwing out so many plot twists and red herrings the creators end up losing track.

Oh well, the one guy exploded real good.

"Please help yourself to this tripe."

I realized earlier that I'd never really written about Tom Cruise here. Even taking into account his latest round of publicity whoring for War of the Worlds (check out Defamer for some truly frightening screen captures from his Oprah appearance) and his nauseatingly ubiquitous gushing over his totally spontaneous romance with Katie Holmes, I consciously avoided flogging that particular dead horse (for once). In this way, I was able to mistakenly convince myself that entries about the Spice Girls and Samuel L. Jackson somehow elevated APCB above other exercises in navel-gazing.

But enough is enough. Tom Cruise, shut the fuck up:

In an interview with Billy Bush on TV show Access Hollywood, to be screened on Thursday, Cruise speaks of his disappointment to learn Shields used Paxil to fight post-natal depression following the birth of her daughter Rowan. Shields is currently weaning herself off her medication so she and husband Chris Henchy can have another child.

Of course, the first thing I'm going to do in an entry about Tom Cruise is talk about Brooke Shields. Specifically, if my wife had gone through the kind of PPD Shields reportedly experienced, there wouldn't even be talk of a second child, unless we adopted. I'd have taken wire cutters and a soldering iron and handled those pesky vasa deferensa myself.

Maybe living in Houston has made me overly sensitive to such things. Oh well.

Onward.

Cruise, who claims to have helped people fight drug addictions through his controversial Scientology religion, says the Suddenly Susan actress should have used vitamins to help her feelings of despair. Cruise says, "Here is a woman, and I care about Brooke Shields because I think she is an incredibly talented woman. You look at, where has her career gone?"

Yeah, because it was such hot shit before she had kids. Sahara (fun fact: Lambert Wilson appeared in both the Matthew McConaughey version and this 1983 stinkbomb)? Brenda Starr? After Sex (Dan Cortese was billed higher)? This isn't quite on par with Meryl Streep suddenly deciding to appear in the Red Shoe Diaries.

Cruise maintains, "These drugs are dangerous. I have actually helped people come off. When you talk about postpartum, you can take people today, women, and what you do is you use vitamins. There is a hormonal thing that is going on, scientifically, you can prove that. But when you talk about emotional, chemical imbalances in people, there is no science behind that. You can use vitamins to help a woman through those things."

You hear that, you dumb broads? It's all in your heads.

No, really, I'm glad Dr. Cruise acknowledges the existence of hormones, though he seems unable to explain the origins of the tiny dwarves and Demonic Humors cause shit like depression and schizophrenia.

Actually, that would be better than what the "Church" really thinks:

Scientology religious doctrine holds that all illnesses, both physical and mental, are caused by "engrams" of negative energy in a person's "thetan", and that mental health professionals in fact place new "engrams" in their patients, covering up old problems with new ones.

Now it all makes sense: Theodoric of York was the first Scientologist.

I stopped believing Cruise behaved the way he does (suspicious romances, freaky intensity) to help open his movies long ago. The marquee value of "Spielberg/Cruise" was enough to earn even the mediocre Minority Report over $350 million worldwide, after all, and WotW promises to be even bigger than that. No, the truth is that he actually believes what he says. And unlike, say, fellow Hubbard fan John Travolta, Cruise is good enough of an actor to get away with it.

And for all of you hating on Tom and Katie's relationship, this one's for you:

Dating Tom Cruise is starting to pay off for Katie Holmes, if internet reports are to be believed - she's set to steal a Mission: Impossible 3 role from Lindsay Lohan. According to website Ananova.Com, Holmes has become the hot favorite to replace Scarlett Johansson as Cruise's love interest in the action movie sequel.

Holmes instead of Johansson? Great choice.

Grill or be grilled

A good friend of mine (with access to such things) recently found himself with some 16" schedule 40 pipe (previously used for steam, in case anyone was worried), a welder, and some free time. Having apparently grown sick of my coming over to his house to eat his BBQ, he decided to put a grill together for me:

It's four feet long, with twin stacks coming out (you can't see the near one due to my shoddy camera skills). I'm assured it can cook four or five largish briskets, eight racks of ribs, or about 800 chickens. The fire box, visible beneath, is 22" x 22".

Obviously, it still needs to be buffed down, seasoned, and painted. We should have the frame set up by this weekend, and if all goes well I'll be roasting flesh by Memorial Day.

Now it just needs a name.

Confession Time - The Spice Girls

At Confession Time, we know what you really really want.

Oh, frabjous day:

You thought you'd never see them again, but you were wrong. Now it is decided that the Spice Girls are to make a comeback. The girls are going to head out on a world tour with all the original members, including Ginger Spice, Geri Halliwell.

Scary Spice, Melanie Brown, gave the news to GMTV last night. In addition to the tour, Spice Girls are to release a ‘Best of' album. The tour is also said to ensure the girls a large paycheck.

A "Best Of" album? Do they still sell EPs?

Ah, who am I kidding. I love the Spice Girls. Cheesy dance pop groups manipulated by their own particular Colonel Parkers are a dime a dozen, but the SGs always seemed to be in on the joke, at least. At the risk of causing cerebral implosion, I usually found myself thinking of the Big Boys' "We Got Your Money" whenever I saw their videos.

And then I thought of something else, but this is a family blog.

The Thing That Walks Like a Man and I saw their "film," Spice World, in the theater back when it came out. The oldest patrons by a good 20 years, I think we also made the most noise. And the cast: Roger Moore, Alan Cumming, Hugh Laurie, Bob Hoskins...even Marvin Lee Aday himself. That's like a Cornelius Ryan picture.

I was worried that catching up with the former first ladies of lipsynched Britcrap would be a chore. Ho ho.

Ginger Spice (Geri Halliwell) - My favorite, hands-down. I doubt she could sing a lick, but after seeing that brief glimpse of her as Wonder Woman in Spice World, I'd even forgive her if she did a Zevon cover. Maybe. Halliwell looked to have switched places with Sporty on the weight spectrum for a while, which was a drag. Happily, she appears to have regained some of her voluptuosity.

Sporty Spice (Melanie Chisholm) - Of the five, one of two who (I think) could actually sing. She, like the rest of the Girls, has released singles and albums overseas. I couldn't tell you how any of them did, since none of them made it (to my knowledge) to American airwaves. She has been touring lately, which makes her career somewhat more active than that of...

Victoria Beckham (Posh Spice) - Nee Adams. Together with husband David, makes up the most famous couple nobody on this side of the Atlantic gives a rat's ass about.

Emma Bunton (Baby Spice) - The lollipop and those frigging pigtails always creeped my ass out. I had hoped she'd end up making a lviing catering to men with diaper fetishes, but she's apparently enjoyed some success with her solo stuff. And, of course, she's probably the former Spice Girl who's shown the most skin next to Geri. They grow up so fast.

Melanie Brown (Scary Spice) - Every group needs the "edgy" one. NKOTB had Donnie "The One Who Can Act" Wahlberg, Backstreet Boys had AJ "Bad 'Boy'" McLean, the Kingston Trio had Bob "Bonzo" Shane, and the Spice Girls had Mel B. She may or may not be less tone deaf than the others, but the Spice Girl Most Likely to be Mistaken for "Downtown" Julie Brown has a new album coming out next month either way. No word on whether she still wears that crazy-ass leopard skin outfit.

I can hear the gnashing of teeth and rending of garments from here. Lighten up. Truth be told, I'm more put off by the idea of another Rolling Stones tour.

Thought of this, I had not

Leave it to my dad to get to the heart of the matter:

I think the reason Anakin went over to the dark side was so nobody would call him "Annie" anymore. The "Boy Named Sue" syndrome: get tough or die.

Couldn't he have just changed his name? Like Marion Morrison?

Vestal Vespa stole my Simpsons stem cell quote

[Which really serves me right, considering I spent Saturday swimming in Anahuac (not off the coast, for heaven's sake...in a pool) and most of yesterday trying to get caught up on The Venture Bros. and The Shield instead of paying much attention to the outside world.]

Anyway, does anyone besides me remember when the United States was actually a leader in science?

A measure by Reps. Mike Castle, R-Del., and Diana DeGette, D-Colo., would lift Bush's 2001 ban on the use of federal dollars for research using any new embryonic stem cell lines.

"I made very clear to Congress that the use of federal money, taxpayer's money, to promote science which destroys life in order to save life — I'm against that," Bush said. "Therefore, if the bill does that, I would veto it."

I wouldn't worry. Our children's children won't need stem cells, because "abstinence only" sex education, the suppression of birth control information, and the re-criminalization of abortion will ensure everyone has plenty of offspring to harvest for bone marrow and organs.

Bush began the day at the National Catholic Prayer Breakfast where he was cheered for urging people to "pray that America uses the gift of freedom to build a culture of life."

The remark was a public reaffirmation of his position on sensitive issues such as abortion and stem cell research.

Bush recalled the legacy of the late Pope John Paul II and said, "The best way to honor this great champion of human freedom is to continue to build a culture of life where the strong protect the weak."

It's a new definition of irony when the leader of a country with the highest capital punishment rate in the "civilized" world, and one who has sacrificed hundreds of our own soldiers can trumpet a "culture of life." And he can keep a straight face while using the leader of the Catholic Church as an example of the "strong protecting the weak."

In other news, it seems that not even the dinosaurs are safe:

The razor-toothed Tyrannosaurus rex, jaws agape, loomed ominously over the gentle Thescelosaurus, looking for plants to eat. Admiring the museum diorama were old and young visitors, listening on headphones to a stentorian voice describing the primeval scene.

But the Museum of Earth History is a museum with a controversial difference. To one side, peering through the bushes, are Adam and Eve. The display is not an image of the Cretaceous. It is Paradise. 'They lived together without fear, for there was no death yet,' the voice intoned about Man and Dinosaur.

Nestling deep in the Ozark mountains of Arkansas, in the heart of America's Bible Belt, this is the first dinosaur museum to take a creationist perspective. Already thousands of people have flocked to its top-quality exhibits which mix high science with fundamentalist theology that few serious scientists accept.

What am I supposed to add to that? These same "thousands" of people who seem to have no problem ignoring everything physics, geology, and the fossil record have taught us aren't going to be stopping by APCB so I can ridicule them. Living in ignorance has its comforts, which explains the fundamentalist mindset pretty well.

What I will say, as I have before, is that the Ozarks where the only place I ever saw a flyer advertising Saturday Night Dwarf Tossing. And that was in 1984.

Even as America's scientists make advances in palaeontology, astronomy and physics that appear to disprove creationism, Gallup surveys have shown that about 45 per cent of Americans believe the Earth was created by God within the past 10,000 years.

And yet Saturn got all the rings. Wise up, girlfriend.

Boob Tube Bafflements, #2

Who the hell is Tony Sinclair? Is he related to former Alberto VO5 spokeperson Rula Lenska?

I've cried while eating many times

But usually only after putting too much chili sauce on my vermicelli bowl at Mo Mong, or eating the Atomic Wings at Quaker Steak and Lube.

The subjects at Crying While Eating, however, appear to have actual problems. Or are faking it quite well.

Thanks to HWRNMNBSOL.

"We should have shotguns for this kind of deal."

Enetertainment Weekly has an article up about Samuel L. Jackson. It's a career retrospective of sorts, but instead of detailing his rise from playing crackheads (Jungle Fever) to Jedi Knights, it discusses his best death scenes (via Fark).

The article doesn't rank them, but I will. Because I can.

10. Kill Bill, Vol. 2 - This one's sort of a cheat, since we don't actually see his death. Besides that, he's not included for any kind of dramatic oomph, but simply so audiences can go, "Hey, that's Samuel L. Jackson!"
9. Basic - You, sir, are no Rashômon. This shouldn't even be on the list, for obvious reasons.
8. Jackie Brown - Everyone saw Ordell's death coming, and Michael Keaton's quick draw was some nice bad-assery, but I think Tarantino fans were hoping for a little more righteous pre-mortem torture.
7. Jurassic Park - Also off-screen, although his arm makes a great appearance. JP's PG-13 rating meant we never got any good dinosaur money shots, and I think our nation is weaker as a result.
6. Jungle Fever - "Mama, I smoked the color TV." Heh. Never trust a junkie. Cannes added a Best Supporting Actor category specifically for Jackson in this movie.
5. Hard Eight - This is probably the only Paul Thomas Anderson movie I genuinely like, and Jackson's death is great. A satisfyingly sleazy end to a satisfyingly sleazy character.
4. 187 - I bet Mr. Garfield was wishing Joe Clark, Rick Latimer, and Karl Thomasson had his back at the end of this one. Wow, two Subsititute references in one week. Call Guinness.
3. Goodfellas - It's always gratifying when criminals are portrayed as idiots in the movies, and Stacks Edwards is a real idiot. Of course, black guys last about as long in Mafia flicks as they do in horror movies.
2. Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith - Jackson got his wish, he didn't go out "like a punk." Truth be told, he would've had the Emperor's ass if it wasn't for that meddling kid.
1. Deep Blue Sea - Still one of my all-time favorite rainy day movies (usually with the sound off, however). Jackson's death, while surprising, is still second to that of Stellan Skarsgård.

Wouldn't it be easier just to hate her for On Golden Pond?

Enablers, one and all:

Jane Fonda's new movie Monster-in-Law has been banned by two Kentucky cinemas, in protest against the veteran actress' anti-American stance during the Vietnam War. Pictures of Fonda controversially clapping with a group of North Vietnamese soldiers in 1972 were displayed outside the Elizabethtown Movie Palace, as a sign of the owners' disgust. And a notice outside the Showtime Cinema in nearby Radcliff simply informs film fans, "No Jane Fonda movie in this theater." Elizabethtown resident Ike Boutwell, who trained pilots during the Vietnam War and is leading the campaign against Fonda, says, "I think when people do something, they need to be held responsible for their actions. When you give the enemy aid, it makes the war last longer." In the film, Fonda plays Jennifer Lopez's villainous prospective mother-in-law who desperately tries to stop J.Lo marrying her son.

Fonda's "enjoying" more attention in the last few months than she's had for years. First there was Michael A. Smith, the guy who waited and hour and a half in line to spit tobacco juice in her face, now this, all because of her 1972 trip to Hanoi.

Not being very aware of my surroundings at the time, I couldn't really tell you what effect Fonda's visit had on the war itself. The situation in Vietnam was bad enough in 1972, from what I understand, that Fonda's little tour doesn't seem like it would've swung the tide of public opinion against the war. That said, I understand the rancor some veterans feel at her actions.

Then again, has the spitter also gone to Robert McNamara's house to deliver his trademark brand of slobbery justice? McNamara, after all, had more to do with the deaths of 58,000 US troops (and millions of Vietnamese) than Fonda ever did. Smith famously fled the scene after expectorating on Fonda, but maybe he was rushing to urinate on the graves of LBJ and Nixon. No?

I've never ascribed treasonous motives to Fonda's actions because I think almost all of the big moves she's made in her life and career have been calculated solely to bring attention to Jane Fonda. She must have figured protesting the war and calling returning POWs "liars" when they described torture at the hand of their captors was safe enough in the climate of the time, and did everyone one better by going to North Vietnam. Little did she know her publicity stunt would come back to bite her on the ass for as long as it has. Her VC junket was her belated way to cash in on the protest movement, just as she glommed onto the fitness craze in the early '80s. Even her recent "apology" was timed to coincide with the release of her autobiography and her return to feature films.

Theater owners are, of course, free to decide what movies they want to show, even if Boutwell is wrong that Fonda ever gave the North Vietnamese aid. It's not my business if they want to keep the spotlight focused for a few more minutes on her. I just have to wonder if either theater ever screened Fog of War.

The song remains the same

Having recently discussed my love-hate relationship with the music of Ryan Adams, I thought tonight's conversation with The Wife was somewhat interesting.

While in the car on our way to our favorite smoke-filled bar, the new song by Adams and his band The Cardinals, "Let It Ride," came on the radio. There was a distinct pause in our conversation, after which The Wife piped up with the line that had playing around the fringes of my consciousness at exactly the same time: "God damn Ryan Adams."

"Let It Ride" is a great song: tuneful, finely written, and just long enough to leave you wanting more. Once again, the spoiled brat of singer-songwriter music has produced something of sublime brilliance, which only makes some of us resent him further.

As the song ended, I presented the missus with my associated moral quandary. To wit: is it ever acceptable to steal/bootleg an artist's work if you find the person reprehensible in some way? Maybe the guy has a record of spousal abuse, or is on record as making anti-Seimitic statements, does it then become a matter of measuring the artist against your own code of ethics when deciding whether or not to download a free copy of their work?

I opined that this could be the case, for instance if the artist in question was a rabid pro-lifer (Tad Williams), or had espoused homophobic sentiments (Shaggy, Axl Rose). The Wife, being less philosophically intransigent than yours truly, said she'd be more forigiving of someone having different political beliefs, but would have fewer qualms about bootlegging the work of someone she regarded as an asshole (i.e. Adams).

My views on the issue are somewhat more black and white. I tend to think ripping off another's work is wrong, and if you really have that big of a problem with another person's beliefs or actions, you should just avoid their work altogether (which ties in with my view that any sports team that continues to use Gary Glitter's "Rock and Roll (Part 2)" at their games is enabling his child porn addiction).

Going beyond that, if you look hard enough at any artiste, you can probably find ample reason to view them with distaste. Lewis Carroll has a penchant for little girls, and Dave Sim is an unrepentant misogynist (among other things), to name but two blatant examples. I guess too many Stella Artoises(?) have gotten me rambling, but the question I would put to you is: what sort of criteria (if any) would you use to justify downloading free copies of the works of certain singers/authors/actors/directors, if you weren't simply going to ignore them in the first place?

Random notes

As always, APCB is here to remind you that there are other things going on in the world of Hollywood besides Star Wars. Not that I've done a very good job conveying that these last couple weeks.

Sideshow Beast Terwilliger to Join Cast of X3

Twentieth Century Fox and Marvel Entertainment have enlisted "Frasier" himself Kelsey Grammer for "X3" reports Variety. Grammer is set to play Beast, the oversized blue-furred creature who has not yet appeared in an "X-Men" film.

The Matthew Vaughn-directed sequel is scheduled to bow Memorial Day weekend next year. Studio is also setting Vinnie Jones for the bad-guy role of Juggernaut ("Snatch," "Gone in 60 Seconds," "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels"). Juggernaut, a 6-foot-10, 900-pound metal-clad battering ram, is the half-brother of Professor X and will anchor Magneto's villainous band.

Technically, they're correct; Beast has never appeared in an X-Men film. Dr. Hank McCoy, however, was briefly shown in a TV interview in X2. Guess Steve Bacic's out of luck.

As for Grammer, either they're doing a completedly CG Beast, or they're dubbing whatever gymnast they hire for the role (is Mitch Gaylord still around?) with Grammer's voice. I saw that Dennis Rodman Celebrity Hot Tub thing he appeared in a few years back (give me a break, I have coulrophobia and the circus was in town), and the guy better could probably stand to work in a few sit-ups.

He's got the voice, though:

Beast: "Well, if it isn't my arch-nemesis Magneto. And his sister Lisa to whom I'm fairly indifferent."

Confederacy Dunced

"To the disappointment of many of us, 'Dunces' was put on hold last year. We had assembled the cast of my dreams (Will Ferrell, Lily Tomlin, Mos Def, Drew Barrymore, Olympia Dukakis, etc.) and I adopted New Orleans as my new home, but politics over the property rights -- torn between Miramax, Paramount, and various camps of producers -- put a weight on the project that wasn't creatively healthy to work within.

"The draft of the script by Scott Kramer and Steven Soderbergh did the novel justice, and also provided a healthy cinematic spotlight for these eccentric characters, but it didn't cater to a lot of the cliches or conditioning of contemporary American studio sensibilities. So I suppose the difficulty was even beyond the political baggage and paperwork, and stemmed in many ways from the manner in which I wanted the film to be executed.

I'm not as big a fan of the book as some, but I would've liked to see Soderbergh's adaptation. There's no way Will Ferrell was right for the part of Ignatius T. Reilly, however, and I can only imagine what the "conditioning" was that Green mentioned. Reilly probably got kicked in the balls a lot and had a gay window dresser sidekick.

Maybe that was the role Barrymore was auditioning for.

Finally, A Role That Requires Him to Suck

Before Sunset" stars Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy are in final talks to reunite in the vampire saga "Bathory," which will mark the French actress' directing debut. Delpy also wrote the script about the legendary Elizabeth Bathory, who inspired many a vampire myth with sadistic rituals that included bathing in the blood of virgins.

No word on the rumors that this is being renamed The Ann Coulter Story.

Bah, as long as we're discussing Elizabeth Bathory adaptations, Delpy can't hold a candle to Countess Dracula's Ingrid Pitt.

And...I'm spent

Revenge of the Sith review is up. I went back and forth between 3 1/2 and 4 stars, and finally settled on the latter. Mostly because I couldn't justify saying Assault on Precinct 13 was quite as good.

I also kept coming back to the fact that it's one of the few movies in the last couple years, Star Wars or otherwise, that I immediately wanted to watch again.

When nerds collide

You've been a bad, bad dog:

The family pet can now be one of your favorite Star Wars characters! The Slave Leia pet costume includes headpiece and jumpsuit with attached arms. Pet costumes recommended for dogs only.

Cats get the last laugh once again.

Costumes and accessories are not refundable and can only be returned for an exchange.

I think "Star Wars Pet Costume Return Clerk" just supplanted "Courtney Love's Bikini Waxer" on my list of least desirable jobs.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go towel off my extremities.

Via MetaFilter.

Bad TV Ponderings - Hercules Everwood

Nope. Couldn't bring myself to watch NBC's latest desecration of Greek mythology. I lasted about 15 seconds before Hercules' Irish accent and Leelee Sobieski's astounding fake tan caused me to pop my own eyeballs out with my thumbs.

So let's talk about Everwood. I mostly avoid the WB's offerings (Gilmore Girls being an exception, for some reason), but The Wife started watching this back when it started and I occasionally find myself checking it out as well. It's not really hard to keep up with the adventures of Dr. Andy Brown (Treat Williams) in the sleepy sort of Wyoming Colorado town that only exists in the memories of the elderly and on WB shows.

One of the reasons I usually find something else to do on Monday nights is the character of Ephraim, Dr. Brown's son. I don't know if he's meant to be written as the whiniest little bastard on television, but that's how he comes across. It's intolerable. Mr. Williams, I've seen your Substitute movies (except for Failure Is Not an Option, which is in my Netflix queue)...I know how depressingly easy it would be to bring the pain to that little shit. You say the punk is disrespecting you in your own home? Bust some kneecaps like you did in Winner Take All. What's that? He blew off his Juilliard audition to meet up with that little hussy you ran out of town last year? How about getting all Daniel Ciello on his ass?

What would Critical Bill do? What would "Stretch" Sitarski do? What would...Xander Drax do?

Oh, and the whole "Rose has cancer" thing? Cheese. More faux schmaltz for the 7th Heaven crowd. What the producers ought to do is have Dr. Jake try a sneaky new gene therapy treatment on Rose that goes awry, turning her into something like Nemesis from the Resident Evil games. She goes berserk, killing Dr. Jake, Ephraim, and her entire family before Dr. Brown blows her and half the town to hell, just like in Deep Rising. Afterwards, he heads out on the road to battle supernatural evil using only his surgeon's wits and a crate of dynamite he liberated for an abandoned mine.

This is probably why I don't work in TV.

Who's up for Chinese?

I'm probably going on a self-imposed Star Wars moratorium some time this week - once my Episode III review comes out - which I'm sure will cause much consternation (the moratorium, that is, not the review itself)

Until then, a couple things...

First, the final Star Wars Report is up at Film Threat. It probably won't get as much attention as Jeremy Matthews' coverage of the Revenge of the Sith premiere at Cannes, but that's fine with me.

But it does beg the question: how the hell did Jeremy get to go to Cannes?

Also, fellow FT-er and Slobberbone fan Don Lewis brings the following item to my attention:

The Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood is the "Star Wars Mecca". Star Wars premiered in 1977 at the Chinese theater. This is where it all started. It's for this reason that the last two prequel movies have premiered there. It's for this reason that twice before people have camped out more than a month before Episode I: The Phantom Menace and Episode II: Attack of the Clones opened, there were already people camping out in front of this theater!

Those people are back again for a third time. LININGUP.NET, the group responsible for this ritual, has a more active line going than ever before for Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. They have raised almost $30,000 for charity this time around, more than double the amount raised for Clones. There's a problem this time around, though.

They are not showing Episode III at the Chinese theater. At all.

Fox and Paramount have instead decided to play the movie for the public opening night at the Arclight Cinerama Dome... a non-digital, non-historic, and non-Star Wars theater.

The fact that the Chinese wasn't showing Revenge has been known for over a month, yet these people have still held on to the hope that Lucas, a man with his elbow firmly planted on the pulse of fan opinion, would relent and move the premiere back to the Chinese. No such luck, and several thousand holdouts continue to maintain their increasingly futile vigil outside the theater. A vigil which has quickly taken on the appearance of a public martyrdom:

The LININGUP.NET group has been publically preparing to line up in front of the Chinese for a year, and for many of the fans of the Chinese and Star Wars, it's been a much longer time in waiting than that. We have people from all over the world joining our line to be with us at this theater. We have people who've been Star Wars fans since they saw the movie here in 1977... and they want to see the saga end here.

However, now that Fox and Lucasfilm haveconfirmed to us of their decision to not screen Episode III at the best theater in Los Angeles, a theater that three years prior underwent an overhaul specifically to screen Episode II in all its digital glory, a theater that we've been waiting at for over a month, the entire group is left feeling betrayed and emotionally drained.

While I'm not insensitive to the people who traveled long distances to take part in this, I gotta ask these people: when the hell has George Lucas ever acted like he gave a rat's ass about you guys? This is the same man who - just last week - made comments equating the prequels' poor critical reception with the fact that fans of the Original Trilogy are now in control of the media. Your concerns about the "history" of Star Wars at the Chinese mean as much to Lucas as maintaining internal plot consistency in his own films does.

The fact that some of these guys are planning on staying in line as a protest on opening night[1] is probably the best evidence I can find that the end of the Star Wars saga is a good thing. Imagine how out of hand this shit would get if we had three more movies to go.

[1] In other words, these people will have spent six weeks waiting in line for nothing except the privilege of having everyone from the Arclight walk by them at 2:45 AM on May 19 laughing their asses off. Nicely done.

"Like punk rock, only it's an organic male enhancement pill."

Given that the joe Strummer-less Clash and the Johnny/Joey/Dee Dee-less Ramones have used the deaths of influential band personnel to cash in on some fat American advertising dollars, I see no reason why the surviving members of old punks bands - which have some of the highest mortality rates outside of hip hop - shouldn't do likewise. The surviving Germs, for example, could use "Cat's Clause" for kitty litter, or change "No God" to "Oh God" and sell it to the Catholic Church. And does anyone think John Lydon is more than one missed payment to his hair stylist away from signing "Holidays in the Sun" over to Carnival Cruise lines?

With that in mind, I can finally justify my bellowing of "Acid reducer/Ain't no loser" to the irritation of just about everyone else in the pharmacy section of Sam's Club yesterday. Someone from Prilosec should give me a call, since it isn't like Stiv Bators is going to complain.

Dynamite with a laser beam

Friday the 13th probably wasn't the best choice for scheduling some guy to cut my eyes up with lasers, but I'm all about living on the edge. Posting will be sporadic on APCB while I spend the weekend recovering and picking out sunglasses that aren't clip-ons.

In the meantime, feel free to check out my review of Kicking & Screaming over at Film Threat.

Also, today's special date allows me to once again trot out this entry, which should be your first, last, and full stop for planning a Friday the 13th movie marathon with that special someone.

"Sounds like quite a load."

The Thing That Walks Like A Man and I often find ourselves sitting around, drinking beer and watching bad '60s and '70s flicks from Something Weird. Thoughtful viewing of titles like Night of the Bloody Apes and Sassy Sue - and copious amounts of alcohol - always get us thinking we were born about 20 years too late, and sitting through the efforts of cinema giants like Joe Sarno and Barry Mahon, to say nothing of Russ Meyer and Doris Wishman, make us wistful for opportunities lost. Making cheap-ass exploitation movies would've been a dream come true. And I, for one, know I would've looked El Pimp in a handlebar mustache and fat fucking lapels.

Of course, what makes this idle speculation possible is that we've always been able to sit on our asses and lament days gone by, secure in the knowledge that no one, but no one, could get away with making movies full of gratuitous nudity and repulsive gore and capturing the spirit of those same goofy-ass films from days of yore.

I'm happy to say that Philadelphia's own Jonathan Yudis has proven us wrong. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Pervert. The site is marginally safe for work, the trailer anything but (former California gubernatorial candidate Mary Carey is one of the stars, after all).

I don't want to oversell it, but this looks better than ten Super Bowls.

"Janine, someone with your qualifications would have no trouble finding a top-flight job in either the food service or housekeeping industries."

Janine probably attended an HISD high school:

Houston ISD students could earn high school diplomas without taking a single math or science class after their sophomore year under a proposal that is drawing criticism from some national education experts.

Critics say the change will leave students unprepared for college and the workplace.

"I'm surprised they would be considering this move," said Anne Tweed, president of the 55,000-member National Science Teachers Association. "That's a step backward."

Surprised? Texas mandates abstinence-only sex ed and proposed putting BMI ratings on report cards, and it ranks at or near the bottom in high school graduation rates. How can anyone be surprised that the school districts are enthusiastically joining the effort to turn our state into Dogpatch?

Only this time, Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae won't be allowed to wear such revealing clothing.

Superintendent Abe Saavedra wants to do away with a policy that mandates three years of math and science courses for all high school students. Instead, students who pass high school-level courses in the eighth grade would get credit toward a diploma. State law requires three math and science credits to graduate.

Saavedra's proposal, which is expected to win school board approval today, runs counter to a national trend of school systems requiring students to spend more time in math and science classes before they graduate. The decision is even more curious, some education experts said, given the fact that more than two-thirds of HISD's 2004 graduates who enrolled in local community colleges last fall were required to take remedial courses.

Two-thirds just doesn't cut it in today's cutthroat academic environment, dammit. Saavedra won't be happy until 100% of those graduates are forced to spend extra tuition dollars learning subjects they were once taught in public school.

I had to double check to make sure Saavedra wasn't a trustee with the Houston Community College System.

Saavedra told school board trustees earlier this week that the three-year requirement is unnecessary. It was adopted in 2001, he said, because trustees wanted high school juniors taking math and science classes at the same time they take the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills exam, which students must pass to graduate.

The current policy is based more on improving test performance than on academic quality, Saavedra said. What matters, he said, is that students take the necessary courses. "We absolutely are not lowering the standard," Saavedra said.

Still, Saavedra acknowledged that having high school students take more math and science classes would better prepare them for college. "If we required four years of math, it would work toward reducing the remedial requirement," he said. "I'm not telling you I won't come back with that kind of recommendation (in the future)."

He's really earning that $384K salary isn't he? Somebody give him a high five.

[For HISD students, "five" = (the number of semesters of Fundamentals of Math you'll be required to take at HCC) + (the number of shits the superintendent apparently doesn't give about your education).]

Tonight's chilling thought

Say, you don't suppose Sue Grafton knows any other languages, do you? Like Chinese? Or Arabic?

Just to show I'm an equal opportunity lover of fundamentalism

The Koran also violates the People Magazine rule: it's longer than the average person can read during the average crap:

At least four people have been killed and many injured after police opened fire to break up an anti-US protest in eastern Afghanistan, officials say.

Hundreds of students rioted in the city of Jalalabad over reports interrogators at America's Guantanamo Bay prison had placed copies of the Koran on toilets.

The city is now said to be calm after widespread damage to property. All but essential UN staff are being withdrawn.
...
The unrest follows a report in the American magazine, Newsweek, that interrogators at Guantanamo Bay had placed copies of the Koran on toilets in order to put pressure on Muslim prisoners.

This sounds like a big misunderstanding to me. I'm sure that Guantanamo officials had initially put Maxim and Playboy in the bathrooms (to make the prison seem more like a normal single man's apartment), and when the detainees protested, offered the Koran as a compromise.

Could all of our cultural and philosophical differences boil down to the fact that they don't like to read on the can?

President Hamid Karzai said the violence showed the inability of Afghan authorities to handle such protests.

Speaking at Nato headquarters in Brussels, he said his country would need international assistance "for many, many years to come".

Sorry Hamid, we're a little too busy turning Iraq into the democratic paradise god intended[1] to pay much attention to your revenue stream. Maybe if you got your people to do something to grab our attention. Like, say, have a woman flee her own wedding and somehow grab a week's worth of headlines.

The protesters chanted "Death to America" and smashed car windows and damaged shops.

Smoke could be seen rising from various points in the city.

One international aid worker in Jalalabad told the BBC there were groups of people running along the streets, reportedly looking for foreigners and anyone working for non-governmental organisations.

There's one place that won't be getting my tourist dollars. Afghanistan once again proves it's ripe for my patented Porn & Big Macs foreign policy initiative.

Supersized meals, Chicken Soup for the Soul books, and 24 cable sports channels: these are the cornerstones of the New Hegemony.

[1] "Inside every Ay-rab is an American trying to get out."
[2] I'm doing a lot of footnotes lately

Time is not on my side

One of the unintended results of the all-day softball tournament in which I played on Saturday (which wasn't really supposed to be "all-day" except that our team kept inexplicably coming from behind and winning), was that I spent all of Sunday getting caught up on crap I'd meant to do the day before. Another side effect is the just-now subsiding limp in my mechanically reconstructed ankle, but that's not important right now. Bills had to be paid, closets cleaned, and The Wife doted on for Mother's Day (said doting consisting mostly of keeping the kid out of her hair while she read a book).

Unfortunately, other things fell through the cracks. Doing any sort of meaningful blogging (an oxymoron for this site if ever there was one) being the most obvious example. This is all my lame way of saying I missed the boat on blogging about Monday's Time Traveler Convention at MIT.

The convention was a mixed success. Unfortunately, we had no confirmed time travelers visit us, yet many time travelers could have attended incognito to avoid endless questions about the future. We had a great series of lectures, awesome bands, and even a DeLorean. We regret having had to turn away visitors, but there were capacity restrictions governing Morss Hall.

I imagine the time travelers in attendance were waiting for someone to be the first to approach the dais, as it were. If they have any regrets, they can always fire up the old flux capacitor and check it out again.

The event sounded like a lot of fun, and even though there was no way I could possibly have made it (in this century, at least), I want to apologize to Emily for not getting something up here sooner like I said I would.

In Cod We Trust

Because there's no issue so troubling we can't find a way to merchandise it (via MetaFilter):

Do you believe God belongs in government?

Do you believe President Bush is doing The Lord's Work?

1) If so, congratulations - you enjoy a medieval concept of society shared by the likes of Osama Bin Laden and fundamentalists from Iran to Indonesia. Funny old thing, life.

2) I've heard that the lord works in mysterious ways, but sending (at last count) 1600 kids to their deaths for a lie and using fear and hatred to create a nation of quivering, obediant automatons sounds like something the other guy might get behind.

Sorry, were those rhetorical questions?

Now you and I both know that merely coexisting with those of other faiths is for pussies, but - unfortunately - you still have to share the roadways. If only there was some way to demonstrate your moral superiority to other motorists...

If you are tired of secularists telling you that The Lord has no place in our government and our public institutions, then show them that you disagree.

This symbol, this site, and this car magnet have been created for the millions of Americans who support the President and his vision for a government that embraces religion, morality, and family values. It shows worship to the Lord, respect for the President, and hope for all.

Finally, something to proudly display next to your "Support Our Troops" ribbon (made in China) and the one commemorating your child's perfect attendance at Eisenhower Elementary[1]. Because nothing demonstrates your insecurity in your faith and weak grasp on the Constitution better than plastering your vehicle/house with jingoistic knick-knacks.

I thought this site was a joke, a la Landover Baptist, but haven't found any evidence to that effect yet.

[1] "Memo to self: blow up Eisenhower Elementary." - Cobra Commander

Well, not everybody

Since 60 Minutes apparently felt its journalistic credibility hadn't suffered enough in the past year, they decided to air a story on Ray Romano last night. In an amazing coincidence, Romano's show - Everybody Loves Raymond - which also airs on CBS, is ending its nine-year run later this month.

I'm not one of those holier-than-thou types who utter the word "television" with the same distasteful inflection they might give "Velveeta." Or "Polish vodka." I don't watch much TV, but I also won't pretend that I've blocked out everything on my Dish guide except for Discovery Health, the History Channel, and C-SPAN2. I favor cartoons and Comedy Central, and I'm not above taking in the occasional CSI derivation or...ahem...Gilmore Girls.

That doesn't keep me from heaping scorn upon shows I've never seen, of course. I don't need to sit through the full 22 minutes of the According to Jim episode where Jim says something boorish and has to elaborately make it up to his wife (with side-splitting results) to know the show is an affront to all that is good and decent in society. Most TV shows, in fact, broadcast their malevolent nature quite readily in the previews. Watching Kevin James howl as he slides out of control on his ass down a ski slope or getting a glimpse of the "Urkel-Bot" are just further examples of how nature says, "Don't touch."

I'd like to say this same tactic has kept me from seeing an entire episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. Unfortunately, I have sat through exactly one. And I should apologize in advance, for I may have played an unwitting role in the show's longevity.

In the spring of 1997, yours truly (along with infrequent commenter TheDave and two others) traveled to Las Vegas for no real reason other than why most people go to Las Vegas (fine ceramics). It was Saturday afternoon and the four of us were walking somewhere behind the Strip. The time was about 4:00, the magical hour when that morning's hangover has at long last slipped away and that evening's bender is, literally, just around the corner (I think we were headed to the Barbary Coast).

A conservatively dressed woman (something that always catches your eye in Vegas) standing outside a small, windowless building asked us if we were interested in participating in a test screening for a TV program. She emphasized that it wasn't a pilot screening, but an existing show that was going to be retooled. I didn't see how that was much of a selling point, since a pilot at least had the potential to be entertaining, while a show going under the knife must have some serious problems. For some reason, and even though at least half of our party wanted to commence binging in earnest, I convinced them to follow this unidientified person into a building with no visible emergency exits and take part in the exercise. And to think we all had Master's degrees.

As those of you with functioning cerebral cortices have figured out by now (the rest of you have obviously arrived here by mistake from Michelle Malkin's blog), the show in question was Everybody Loves Raymond. It had performed underwhelmingly in its first season, and CBS - for some reason - felt that asking for feedback from drunks yanked off the street in Sin City was the best way to improve their troubled show.[1] I wish I had a copy of the questionnaire, but I remember being especially critical of such things as: the shrewish mother-in-law, the meddling parents in general, the precociously wiseass kids, and the already worn-out trope of the hapless husband. We turned in our answers, were thanked for our participation, and were dumped back onto the darkening streets of Vegas without even an autographed Doris Roberts photo for our efforts. We hit the bar as soon as out feet could get us to one, and it wasn't until a few years later that I saw a promo for the same show on TV and blurted out, "That piece of shit is still on the air?"

I then apologized profusely to my aunt's bridge club.

Trouble is, I couldn't tell you is the show's subsequent success (#30 in its second season, and no lower than #12 since) had absolutely nothing to do with my suggestions (as The Wife opines), or if my sarcastic comments were somehow incorporated and played some part in the show's resurgence. I tend toward the latter explanation, since I put "Clergy" in the "Occupation" field on my form, which might have seemed suspect given the copious amounts of profanity sprinkled through my comments.

On a slightly different note, ELR is one of the handful of TV shows in my experience where those watching (my grandparents, as it turns out) have consistently hushed entire roomfuls of people while it's on. The others are Murder, She Wrote (friend's mother), Buffy and Angel (former roommate), and Hunter (ex-girlfriend).[2] So make of that what you will.

[1] In that light, network programming makes a lot more sense.
[2] And the 1993 Stanley Cup finals (me).

UPDATE: As kodi points out in the comments, I already touched upon this very subject a year ago. So much for originality.

Boob Tube Bafflements #1

In which your humble author tries to make sense of something he just saw on TV:

What the hell does "100% Punch Juice" mean?

I'll see your House and raise you a Kingdom

Two new movies this weekend, so two new reviews. Boogie on over to Film Threat for my bloviations on House of Wax and Kingdom of Heaven.

As for my Revenge of the Sith review, Big George himself has expressed his...suggestion that all reviews be held until the 18th. I can't speak for Kevin Smith or the Hollywood Reporter and Variety critics, but I'd rather not have my publicist freeze me out of future 20th Century Fox screenings, so the 18th it is.

Heave-a Las Vegas

Got my plane tickets for CineVegas a couple days ago. CineVegas is a nine day film festival that I'll only be attending the first three days of, but I fervently hope that one weekend will afford me the opportunity to meet both Ann-"Kitten With A Whip"-Margret and Samantha "I Would Allow Her to Bear My Children if Only That 'Honor' Had Not Been Bestowed Upon Another" Morton.

I'll be attending with TV's Chris Gore, the Internet's Eric Campos, and AM radio's Mark Bell. I anticipate little sleep and less sobriety.

Oh, and apparently we all have tickets to ArenaBowl XIX on Sunday. For those of you who have real football in your cities (i.e. not Los Angeles), arena football is that sport where guys crash into nets after catching a ball with only one foot in bounds. Or something. I have no idea who might end up playing for the championship, but I'll take a page from the Oakland Raiders and be sure to root for the team with the largest number of ex-con fans sitting near me.

And did I mention Bryan Adams is playing the halftime show? I somehow managed to get through all of the '80s and '90s without seeing him perform live, and still the bastard dogs my steps into the next millennium. He's the Max Walker to my Senator McComb in Timecop, the Bele to my Lokai, the Once-ler to my Lorax, the...

You get the idea.

To commemorate "Summer of '69," I'll try to remember to take a picture of Mark giving oral gratification to a 32-oz. cup of beer.

Ended this Clone War has

Did I mention I saw Revenge of the Sith yesterday? Anyone who'd like some spoiler-laden commentary can e-mail me if they so desire.

That's my alma mater

I wonder if the inappropriate gesture to which they're referring was actually the "Hook 'Em Horns" sign:

Months after members of "Al Pieda" marred a campus speech by Ann Coulter, another appearance by the controversial conservative commentator has been disrupted by a protester. During a speech last night at the University of Texas in Austin, a 19-year-old UT student was busted after asking Coulter a lewd question, which he followed up with equally inappropriate hand gestures, according to the below police affidavit. The student, Ajai Raj, was arrested by campus police and hit with a misdemeanor disorderly conduct charge. The police affidavit notes that Coulter's lecture was attended by "several children under the age of ten," which probably made them particularly sensitive when Raj queried Coulter about the sexual proclivities of certain right-leaning men.

If you ask me, parents who bring their ten year-old kids to an Ann Coulter speech ought to be brought up on child abuse charges.

You'll make great pets

Daphne Merkin had an excellent article (registration required) last Sunday in the New York Times Magazine about the obscene lengths some people go to in order to pamper their pets:

At the risk of drawing ire, I would like to suggest that there is something profoundly awry about the way our culture treats pets. To wit: We spend more money annually on pet-related supplies and services (an estimated $35 billion last year) than we do on toys for children. To wit: The New York Dog Magazine, which features un-tongue-in-cheek articles on whether or not to buy health insurance for Fido (5 percent of pet owners have insurance) and how to keep your canine in a custody battle ("Start a diary showing that you are the primary caretaker," advises Raoul Felder, divorce lawyer to the stars. "Note how many times you walk the dog"), is but the latest entry in a crowded field that includes Dog Fancy, Modern Dog and The Bark. To wit: If you're looking for a place to board your dog while you're on vacation, you could do worse than Canine Cove in Sausalito, Calif., a cageless facility offering a quiet area to watch TV as well as an outside lounge area.

How has it come to pass that outfitting a dog with a $1,380 Hermes crocodile-and-calfskin leash-and-collar set doesn't seem too absurd -- too shameful? How is it that our sense of humanity has been transferred to members of the animal kingdom -- the domesticated and overbred as well as the wild and exotic -- so that we lavish affection, money and moral outrage on them while we gripe about the homeless instead of empathizing with their plight and ignore our elderly altogether?

Merkin raises some fine points, especially regarding the animal rights movement's apparent greater concern for the welfare of lab rats and monkeys over those who might benefit from testing to find cures to diseases. She sets her position opposite the likes of Peter Singer, who want to equate human emotion with animals, and while I find myself siding with her in the respect that I'm more concerned about my sister than I am about her dogs, I suspect I'm coming at the argument from an entirely different philosophical standpoint.

Where Merkin chooses to castigate the pet pamperers for their apparent disregard for human suffering (she opines that the lavishing of material affection on our pets somehow eradicates some of the class guilt we feel for not being able or willing to genuinely help those of our fellow men who are in need) I choose to rudely remind everyone that we're talking about dumb animals here.

Reading about people who drop a grand for a dog collar fills me with the kind of rage I imagine that Zack de la Rocha kid feels when he sees a Christmas special. They're animals, for crying out loud. I love dogs, but if you tried to convince me the only way to keep my pooch happy was to spend $1300 for a Hermes collar, I'd laugh in your face while Fido whizzed on your Cole Haans.

The problem here is not that people are stupid (which may be the case), but that we're talking about heaping luxuries upon domesticated beasts. These are creatures content to eat their own feces and lick their own scrotums while spending three hours fascinated by a rubber mouse on a string.

I can see dropping $5 on a chew toy at Petco, but most dogs, for example, don't require much financial investment beyond sticking a tennis ball down a gym sock and supplying them with a bowl of Alpo a day. If you find yourself buying fur-lined sweaters and jeweled collars for Bit Bit, well, you're a horribly misguided individual who need to die so that your heirs might better distribute your wealth.

Just sayin'.