A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

"The new phone book's here!"

My arch-nemesis[1] Chuck was featured in a story (along with blogHOUSTON's Kevin Whited and Anne Linehan) on our local ABC affiliate's web page about Houston area bloggers. More importantly (for me, anyway), he listed me as one of his "favorites."

I appreciate the nod, especially knowing how he shares my distaste for that kind of thing. Still, as Plug once said, "there's no such thing as bad publicity."

No word yet on what my old friend Wayne Dolcefino thinks.

[1] Did I say "arch-nemesis?" I meant "deathless foe."

I hear music

Haven't done one of these in a while, but what the hell. As the summer kicks into high gear, I found myself checking on upcoming tour dates for the Houston area. There are a number of decent shows coming up, as well as some acts who are bypassing us entirely, for some reason. I mean, it's unfathomable to me that someone might not want to visit Swamp Town in July or August.

Anyway, here are some of the ones I'm thinking of checking out:

Split Lip Rayfield - July 9, Continental Club: I realize this is the same night as the 1st Annual APCB Beerfest, so unless I'm still ambulatory around 11 PM, this one's a long shot. Maybe I can split a cab with someone.

Flametrick Subs - July 23, Continental Club: Texas style psycho-billy, with visual accompaniment by Satan's Cheerleaders. This is always a fun show. Bring the parents!

Junior Brown - July 30, McGonigel's Mucky Duck: A chance to see Brown and "Big Red," his double-necked acoustic/steel guitar, is a treat. The Duck seems like a bit of a subdued venue for him, however.

Robbie Fulks - August 9, McGonigel's Mucky Duck: I enjoy an unrepentant smart-ass, and Fulks certainly qualifies. He's a good musician, too. I'm actually surprised I haven't caught him live before.

System of a Down - August 13, Woodlands Pavillion: Meh. I already had this in the low probability column due to it being an outdoor concert in August (an honor I'm reserving for one show this year), but then I saw...

The Gourds - August 13, Continental Club: We've been trying to catch another Gourds show for years, ever since we saw them open for the Old 97s in '99, but something's always come up. We'll see what happens this time.

Ozzfest - August 27, Woodlands Pavillion: I'm planning on laying low until the last two acts: Iron Fucking Maiden and Black Sabbath. Then I'm cowering behind a dumpster until the crowds disperse. This also might be the last chance I have to see Ozzy before they have to wheel the bastard out on stage in an iron lung.

UPDATE: As Joni so helpfully (and infuriatingly) pointed out in the comments, Maiden stops touring with Ozzfest on August 20, replaced with...Velvet Revolver. Seeing as how I'm unlikely to make it to England for the Reading Festival, it would appear I'm screwed. Drag.

The rest of these are improbables, as they all take place in big venues and are acts I've either seen before or have only middling interest in checking out:

John "Don't Call Me Cougar" Mellencamp & John Fogerty - September 10, Woodlands Pavillion: I'd leave after the opening act, probably, and I'd only go to hear some CCR songs.

Robert Plant - October 10, Verizon Wireless Ampitheater: Basshole and I saw Jimmy Page back in...1990? And he played "Stairway to Heaven." You'd think Plant would have to dust off some of the old Zep chestnuts. And speaking of chestnuts, I hope his pants are a little baggier this time around than they were in The Song Remains the Same.

(this one's for "seadogs") Jackopierce - November 12, Birchmere, Washington DC: I was never that big a fan of these guys, but they had a huge and rabid following here in Texas. So much so I'd often have to feign interest in them in order to get an "in" with members of the opposite sex.

The Rolling Stones - December 1, Toyota Center: Yes, the band that once mocked the Who for fattening their wallets by going out on another tour (and this back in 1989) are dragging their rapidly ossifying bones onstage - again - to bilk us out of more money. I'm only going if I can score free tickets and peg Mick Jagger with a befouled Depends.

Finally, here are some of the bands who aren't coming to Houston this summer, many of whom I'd really like to check out:

Devo - Saw them at a show on my birthday in 1988 in Austin, would've liked to see them again.
Elvis Costello & Emmylou Harris
Sleater-Kinney - I'e noticed a trend among many left-leaning groups to eschew Texas in general and Houston in particular. Wonder why that is. Then again, maybe Oregonians melt when it gets above 95.
Lucinda Williams
Kathleen Edwards (sort of Lucinda Lite, I know, but throw me a bone)
The White Stripes
Brian Wilson - Okay, so I have more of a morbid curiosity about this one. I.e. I'm wondering exactly what it would take to send the guy back to his sand-filled living room
Def Leppard - Right, Fort Worth and El Paso get tour dates but not us? Not like I really care (I haven't paid much attention to DL since 1983), but it's the principle of the thing.
Anger Management Tour - Okay, odds are I wouldn't have gone to this one, but Houston has a great hip-hop scene right now, which makes the fact that Eminem, 50 Cent, and company are blowing us off for Dallas a little hard to understand.

Good rockin', everyone.

Plunk yeah

If you've been keeping up with Plunk Biggio, and I know you have, then you're aware that Astros 2B Craig Biggio broke the modern record for HBP today. He was plunked, for the 268th time in his career, by Colorado Rockies pitcher Byung-Hyun Kim in the 4th.

Congratulations, I guess, to Craig Biggio. At least now the Astros have something to remember this season by.

"Harry, I want you to sell me a condom. In fact, today, I think I'll have a French Tickler, for I am a Protestant."

Fight the power, Mr. Blackitts.

Everyone knows condoms prevent pregnancy and protect against sexually transmitted diseases. But how well do they work? That question is at the center of a debate over whether the labels on condom packages should be changed.

On one side are abstinence advocates, including a conservative congressman who is blocking appointment of a new federal drug agency chief until the labels are changed. On the other side are "safe sex" advocates who fear label changes could undermine confidence in condoms and increase the spread of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases.

Each side has some truth in its argument: Condoms are very effective against the AIDS virus, but data for their effectiveness against some other STDs is surprisingly spotty.

"They do not provide 100 percent protection, but for people who are sexually active they are the best and the only method we have for preventing these diseases," said Heather Boonstra, a public policy official with the Alan Guttmacher Institute, a nonprofit group that researches reproductive health issues.

Boonstra said Republican Sen. Tom Coburn, a physician from Oklahoma, and the abstinence-promoting Medical Institute for Sexual Health are "manipulating this data to drive home their own anti-condom, anti-contraceptive message."

Sorry to break in, but the "Medical Institute for Sexual Health" is a hilarious name. The only way it would be any better is if they called it the CompuGlobalHyperMegaInstitute for Scienceology.

Oh, and is he a Congressman or a Senator? Could he be both? That's Oklahoma for you.

The Medical Institute for Sexual Health's board chairman, Dr. Tom Fitch, who has previously pushed FDA officials for label changes, said some STDs are much more easily spread than others. In addition, STDs such as herpes and human papilloma virus, or HPV, can be transmitted by contact with skin not covered by a condom.

Fitch said he would not discourage condom use, but his group advocates abstinence or monogamy and it trains teachers how to teach students about abstinence.

Honestly, I don't disagree witb his assertions about contact risk, but it's one thing to provide information for different risk percentages and another entirely to use scare-mongering to foist your anti-sex agenda on us.

Man, remember when people used to worry about herpes?

Yeah, neither do I.

That's an "unrealistic explanation" for young people, said Dr. Shari Brasner, an obstetrician/gynecologist at Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York who has patients as young as 13 who are sexually active. "These conservatives are the same people that are trying to limit access to the morning-after (birth control) pill. They'll leave us with nothing."

Here's an idea...as long as we're hung up on truth in advertising, lets agree to change the wording on condom labels to reflect relative risk factors, provided Sen. Coburn's church posts a big sign out front that states the following:

"Despite this church's claims that it more accurately presents the word of God than its competitors, in reality, there is no way to determine the accuracy of that particular allegation. In truth, there's no substantial evidence the assertions made by those calling themselves 'Christians' are any more valid than similar ones by Buddhists, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, pagans, or animists.

Actually, when you get right down to it, there's really isn't any proof that a supreme being even exists. For that reason, we can't be held responsible for your prayers going unanswered, your puppy not getting into heaven, and the continued existence of homosexuals and fornicators, no matter how hard you wish 'god' would strike them dead."

I'm going out on a limb and assuming the guy isn't Buddhist.

War. What is it good for?

About $90 million over the holiday weekend, I'd guess.

For the deliberately dense, War of the Worlds review here.

The Bush Administration must own stock in Jameson

Because I go through a bottle of whiskey every time our fearless Commander-in-Chief is on TV.

In the past year, we have made significant progress.
...
Our progress has been uneven, but progress is being made.
...
The progress in the past year has been significant, and we have a clear path forward.
...
We have made progress, but we have a lot more work to do.
...
As Iraqis make progress toward a free society, the effects are being felt beyond Iraq's borders.

I'll say. If I hear the word "progress" again I'm going to go all Darryl Revok on somebody.

Some contend that we should set a deadline for withdrawing U.S. forces. Let me explain why that would be a serious mistake.

Setting an artificial timetable would send the wrong message to the Iraqis, who need to know that America will not leave before the job is done.

It would send the wrong signal to our troops, who need to know that we are serious about completing the mission they are risking their lives to achieve.

I can't speak for the troops, but their faith in our "seriousness" might not be such an issue if you hadn't lied about why they were going over there in the first place. Hell, tell them you're looking for Inca gold. That at least has the romantic connotation "he tried to kill my daddy" lacks.

And to those watching tonight who are considering a military career, there is no higher calling than service in our armed forces.

"Chicks dig a man in uniform, fellas. There were some fillies down in Alabama who could testify to that, make no mistake."

Boy howdy.

Of all the ideas to rip off from Resident Evil

I'm not sure "zombie dogs" is the one I would've gone with:

SCIENTISTS have created eerie zombie dogs, reanimating the canines after several hours of clinical death in attempts to develop suspended animation for humans. ... Pittsburgh's Safar Centre for Resuscitation Research has developed a technique in which subject's veins are drained of blood and filled with an ice-cold salt solution.

The animals are considered scientifically dead, as they stop breathing and have no heartbeat or brain activity.

But three hours later, their blood is replaced and the zombie dogs are brought back to life with an electric shock.

Pittsburgh? That has to be a joke. We all know what else happened in Pittsburgh, after all.

During the procedure blood is replaced with saline solution at a few degrees above zero. The dogs' body temperature drops to only 7C, compared with the usual 37C, inducing a state of hypothermia before death.

Although the animals are clinically dead, their tissues and organs are perfectly preserved.

Damaged blood vessels and tissues can then be repaired via surgery. The dogs are brought back to life by returning the blood to their bodies,giving them 100 per cent oxygen and applying electric shocks to restart their hearts.

Tests show they are perfectly normal, with no brain damage.

What's your baseline for that? I love dogs, but when your normal feeding patterns can include crayons, dental floss, and other - less savory - delicacies, how does one determine they haven't gotten any dumber?

If true, it sounds pretty remarkable, I think I'd wait for a little more reputable source to confirm this before stocking up on delicious brains for Sounder.

"Can I bring my laser pointer?"
"What the hell do I care?"

There's been no end of hand wringing over this year's box office doldrums, as even the combo attack of Batman Begins, Bewitched, Herbie: Fully Loaded, and Land of the Dead weren't enough to reverse a slump that has seen domestic box office returns fall behind 2004 for the 18th straight week.

I had this lengthy screed devoted to the various reasons everyone gives for this (The Studios: "P2P and bootleggers are to blame, crucify them!" Moviegoers: "Can we go two weeks without another goddamn TV show remake?"), but...I got bored. There's no need for me to rehash what you've already read, so I'm just going to give you my scholarly opinion about why the domestic box office is slowly spiraling down the crapper:

Because going to the movies fucking sucks.

As I like to endlessly remind everyone, I see most mainstream Hollywood flicks at radio station promo or press screenings, and the few times I've paid for and seen a movie in the theater in the last year and a half have demonstrated to me that it's a wonder theaters aren't to the 2000s what post offices were to the 1980s. How do you guys go to the movies without killing everyone?

At most screenings I attend, one of the ushers (no, really) stands up beforehand to tell everyone:
1) No videotaping (duh)
2) Anyone talking on cell phones will be removed
3) Disruptive children and their parents will be removed

During the movie, there are actually people in the theater to enforce these rules. It's great to hear a cell phone go off and watch the offender pulled from the crowd and marched out. They're usually allowed to return, but no one ever sits in the theater yakking away.

Sure, I have to deal with "wacky" on-air radio personalities conducting "zany" contests before the show and giving away "kooky" prizes to people who get way to amped up about a free t-shirt, but I can usually tune that out and write, unlike with the ubiquitous "Twenty," which blares louder than a 1975 Who concert.

However, after the film rolls, the crowd is refreshingly silent. Not so your typical public screening, where you may experience any combination of the following delightful personalities: the Cell Phone Talker, the 'Tween Texter, the Crying Baby, the Wannabe Bangers, the Guy Who Takes Two Minutes to Open His Bag of M&Ms, the Seat Kicker, the Aisle Runners, the Kids Who Sit Up at the Front and Throw Shit at the Screen, the Questioner ("Who's that guy?" "Why did she do that?"), the Creepy Dude Who Keeps Looking at You, the Latecomers ("Is that seat taken? What about that one? That one?"), the Deaf Old People ("What'd he say?" repeated 50 times), the Angry Guy who Takes Offense When You Politely Request That He Stop Loudly Offering Advice to People on Screen and Do You Want to Take It Outside?

You get the point. Maybe if theaters maintained a security presence – and not even every screening, but just Friday and Saturday nights – and provided a pleasurable viewing experience for their clientele, audiences might come back.

And how about knocking a buck off the price of bottled water, while you’re at it?

While we're on the subject

Rather than trumpet my (accurate) prediction that a certain zombie movie wouldn't do better than #5 at the box office this weekend, I thought I'd point out that the 2003 Australian movie Undead is finally getting released this weekend.

Written and directed by brothers Michael and Peter Spierig, who also funded most of the film and did all the effects on home computers, Undead actually manages to breathe some life into what is rapidly becoming a stale sub-genre of horror film by introducing comedic elements and some almost inexplicable weirdness. I saw it at SXSW in 2004 (review here) and enjoyed it quite a bit, though my viewing experience was probably enhanced by my moderate inebriation at the midnight premiere.

Anyway, the Brothers Spierig talked to Dark Horizons about their next project, which also sounds interesting:

Michael Spierig: The vampire project we hope is quite different to all the other vampire movies. Its called 'Day Breakers'. It is basically a film about...it basically set about 10 to 15 years in the future and what's happened is that the world has almost been completely taken over by vampires, but what's happened is that the vampires have kind of accepted their life and returned back to their suburban homes and back to their daily jobs. So we are dealing with a world now that tries to live day by day and accept their lives as vampire.

Question: Are they doing this at night or are they...

Michael Spierig: They are doing this at night but they have also modified their lives so they can function also in the daytime. Like they have modified their houses so they can block out their windows, they have built walkways so they can walk around during the day, they have modified their cars so they can drive during the day. But the problem is what has started to happen is this new world is they are running out of their food supply, which is human blood. There are very few human beings left in the world and vampires are starting to starve. So the film is essentially about 2 brothers strangely enough. They go on two completely different paths...

Sounds like a vampire version of Office Space.

The zombie movie might be getting a little overly fermented, but the vampire genre spoiled and sprouted mold decades ago. Of course, I'm willing to give the Spierigs (or anyone else) the benefit of the doubt if it keeps Hollywood from making another Anne Rice movie.

I don't know but I've been told

A middle-aged private is mighty old:

Army recruit numbers overall are down thus far for the service's fiscal year, which began in October. To attract more citizens, the Army raised its maximum enlistment age this year from 34 to 39.

Aw, man.

This actually makes some sense, since turning 40 is no longer equated with having one foot in the grave (as it was when my parents were that age).

Then again, this move puts me squarely back into the eligibility camp. And while I have no reason to doubt our President - who has never misled us before - when he says there won't be a draft...

Ah, what am I worried about? They don't draft transsexuals.

At least we weren't playing Cal-State Fullerton again

I was a little surprised at Texas' relative ease in winning the College World Series this weekend (their 6th national title), especially after improbably beating Baylor when the Bears had owned the Horns in the regular season.

As is the case with any key sports victory in our household, She Who Shall Not Be Named gets outfitted in the winning team's colors the following day. After dressing my daughter in burnt orange t-shirt and socks, The Wife was rather vocal in her disapproval. My resonse, "Hey, we can dress her in Texas A&M's colors as soon as they win a national championship in something."

Do they make maroon and white Depends?

Bring out your Dead

My review for Land of the Dead is up, and it appears I'm in the minority (2.5 stars, compared to a Rotten Tomatoes ranking of 'Fresh - 67% and Metacritic's 74 score). Unlike some, I can't help judging it in relation to Romero's first three Dead films.

I still recommend it, especially if you're sick of PG-13 "horror." Just don't expect to experience a movie you're still going to be talking about in ten years.

Unfit to print

The Cruise is loose (via Defamer):

Tom Cruise must be getting sick of reading those snarky stories about his romance with Katie Holmes.

Despite his public smile, the actor has banished virtually all print reporters - including your humble gossip-slingers - from the New York premiere of his movie "War of the Worlds" tonight [Thursday].

A Paramount rep says only one print outlet has been deemed housebroken enough to tread the red carpet. Which outlet is that?

"It's nobody's business," the rep told us, though we understand the exclusve has gone to People magazine.

The "print outlets" are understandably peeved (People makes Entertainment Weekly look like Scientific American), but as someone who's been barred from more than one screening because the studio stipulated "no internet critics," let me just say: text someone who cares.

Meanwhile, it's good to know hand-wringing histrionics aren't exclusive to this side of the Atlantic:

Meanwhile, film critics in Germany threatened Wednesday to boycott War of the Worlds if they are required to sign an agreement not to publish a review before its June 29 release date in that country. While an informal agreement exists between U.S. critics and studios to withhold publication of reviews of new movies until the day of their premieres, no such agreement exists in Germany. In a statement released Wednesday, the Association of German Film Critics said that the studio demand represents "scandalous P.R." and "obstructs the press from its constitutionally guaranteed rights."

Burns: Oooh, the Germans are mad at me. I'm so scared! Oooh, the Germans! [hiding behind Smithers] Uh oh, the Germans are going to get me!
Horst: Stop it!

I'm not all that familiar with Germany's constitution, but I'd like to see the section that details the German press' inalienable right to provide advance word about sci-fi movies.

Given the Hun's[1] traditional distaste for Scientology, it's also mildly surprising that Cruise agreed to a German premiere at all. Then again, it's not like he's going to endanger his fiancee's imminent brainwashing by exposing her to those nasty Krauts[2].

"Informal" is the right word, however. With very few exceptions, I've never been specifically told to hold a review until the film's release date. We just do it out of habit and because it keeps the publicists happy. And because it's really a lot of work to crank one out in less than two days. Really.

But back to the New York press, who really need to calm the hell down. Previously unfettered access has obviously made these guys complete pansies. Any enterprising critic would find a way to get into the movie anyway. It's not that hard. And just because you're told you can't attend a screening doesn't mean you have to actually obey.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

[1] This is one of those instances where someone is allowed to use an ethnic slur thanks to being of said ethnicity.
[2] So is this.

Shave the date

Occasional commenter "jax" is a friend of mine who just happens to own a bar. She actually hit on the idea of hosting an APCB gathering at her place, Hans' Bier Haus. Because I am unable to turn down beer specials or resist the urge to disappoint people in person, I agreed.

So here's the deal: Saturday, July 9 (time TBD), come on down to Hans' on Kirby and Quenby for beer and bocce ball. Directions are on the web site. I'll be there, at least, so you can take issue with my movie reviews and unrequited love of the Spice Girls. Others who have commented/been mentioned on APCB may also be present. There's no telling who'll show up to discuss Star Wars/puke on your shoes/brandish machetes. How can you pass it up (if you're in Houston, that is)?

RSVPs aren't necessary, but if you want to give me a heads-up, say so in the comments or at general_buck_vh@yahoo.com.

UPDATE: The shenanigans will begin at 4 PM. "Jax" has offered $1 Lone Star and $2 Shiner Bock, provided we drink heavily and promise to return at least once per annum.

Lock and Load High School

Beats paying for college, right?

The Defense Department began working yesterday with a private marketing firm to create a database of high school students ages 16 to 18 and all college students to help the military identify potential recruits in a time of dwindling enlistment in some branches.

The program is provoking a furor among privacy advocates. The new database will include personal information including birth dates, Social Security numbers, e-mail addresses, grade-point averages, ethnicity and what subjects the students are studying.

The data will be managed by BeNow Inc. of Wakefield, Mass., one of many marketing firms that use computers to analyze large amounts of data to target potential customers based on their personal profiles and habits.

"The purpose of the system . . . is to provide a single central facility within the Department of Defense to compile, process and distribute files of individuals who meet age and minimum school requirements for military service," according to the official notice of the program.

I guess this is preferable to Selective Service because now they have access to the ladies as well.

Some information on high school students already is given to military recruiters in a separate program under provisions of the 2002 No Child Left Behind Act. Recruiters have been using the information to contact students at home, angering some parents and school districts around the country.

Wow. That's pretty ballsy for a bunch of draft dodgers. More ballsy than their usual affronts to our citizenry, that is.

"We support the U.S. armed forces, and understand that DoD faces serious challenges in recruiting for the military," a coalition of privacy groups wrote to the Pentagon after notice of the program was published in the Federal Register a month ago. "But . . . the collection of this information is not consistent with the Privacy Act, which was passed by Congress to reduce the government's collection of personal information on Americans."

John Hamlinson: Oh Danny, how could you be so naive?
Kennard Chamberlin: Dan, court cases are decided by a series of blow jobs. In fact, our entire civilization is built on blow jobs.

No, seriously, invoking the Privacy Act these days in God's America is hilarious. Good one.

Chris Jay Hoofnagle, West Coast director of the Electronic Privacy Information Center, called the system "an audacious plan to target-market kids, as young as 16, for military solicitation."

The article goes with pointless questions about the risks of amassing SS#s and why the Pentagon needs access to students' ethnicities (so they know who to put in the infantry, duh). But the obvious problem (one of them, anyway) with this plan is how many unwilling people are going to have their data collected. Parents will be upset and students with no intention of enlisting will be needlessly harassed (we all know how well "opt out" clauses work). Therefore, wouldn't it be better to maintain a databse of people of fighting age who have actually voiced support for the war effort and are of legal age to join up and fight?

I've got a few places the DoD can start.

FreeRepublic.com
Little Green Footballs
RogerLSimon.com
Captain's Quarters
Blogsforbush.com

Just scan the comments sections of these places for people who seem to be extremely gung-ho about the prospect of putting their lives on the line for their country.

Though now that I think about it, it's kind of odd that hardly any of them have bothered to enlist yet.

"Blood stains, speed kills
Fast cars, cheap thrills"

I do so love a thoroughly researched, cogently argued grass roots campaign:

I appreciate the notice (addressed to "Speed Humps" at my address) that these are actually going to be put in, since I hadn't heard any updates since I signed the petition in favor of their installation last year.

I'm not sure who the Brainiac who hastily scrawled this missive is, especially since he was too chickenshit to leave a return address, but I've pretty much narrowed it down to the assclown who drives his crappy Mustang at 50+ MPH, or one of the dickheads who's fond of zipping his mini-bike up and down the road for hours at a time.

While always a bit ambiguous on the subject, I gave my support to the proposal anyway. I mean, even though I don't "allow my children to play out front unattended," that doesn't quite translate to allowing our neighborhood high schoolers to barrel down the street at will, blithely assuming no toddler will end up tangled in their undercarriages.

Hopefully, my neighbors will realize that claims the humps will "ruin you front end" and lower our "property value" are bullshit. Unfortunately, I still don't know what "No Speeders" means. Are they saying nobody speeds on our street now? 'Cause that's a load of crap. Maybe he's lamenting the fact that we won't have the god-given American right to endanger the citizenry by putting the pedal to the metal once these socialist speed humps are installed.

Anyway, "speed humps" is a funny term. It makes think of either a porno movie about a serial premature ejaculator or a documentary about camel racing.

Get the Load out

Ha! Bet you didn't know Herbie: Fully Loaded opened today. Not to worry, I'm here with all your reviewing needs.

Click here for a write-up of the best NASCAR commercial you're likely to see all year. And by "best" I mean "most ridiculous and unnecessary."

At least we're not "crawling with crackheads and debutantes"

That's our Tom:

When House Majority Leader Tom DeLay sat down with reporters on Tuesday on Capitol Hill, he was asked to assess President Bush's campaign in Iraq and to respond to criticism that the military mission is not going well and the White House needs to develop an exit strategy.

DeLay offered this response: "These things take time and they take a long time, and some people get weary of the constant barrage that we see in the media.

"You know, if Houston, Texas, was held to the same standard as Iraq is held to, nobody'd go to Houston, because all this reporting coming out of the local press in Houston is violence, murders, robberies, deaths on the highways," DeLay said.

Scanning the front page of the Houston Chronicle for local stories:

"Lack of rain could have area in severe drought within 2 weeks" - Yes, not being able to water my lawn is infinitely more intimidating than a suicide car bombing that killed 23 people yesterday.

"Woman looking for her date finds three bodies" - Hey, it's a city of five million people. We gots murders.

"Perry apologizes for the 'inappropriate' word" - Those open mikes are a motherfucker, Rick.

"Molotov cocktails lobbed at Westside High School" - Mullah, please. Two of them bounced off a door. Don't call al-Zarqawi, boys: he'll call you.

"Teen who collapsed in court had heart condition" - Could it have been brought on by Houston's notoriously bad air? Or a biological agent? I'm sure Tom will get to the bottom of this.

"Contested Pasadena council race: Best of six?" - Pasadena voters must look pretty ridiculous by now, what with ink on almost all their fingers.

"Jury finds felon guilty in policeman's shooting" - How many of the "felons" shooting policeman in Baghdad have been caught lately, much less tried in a court of law?

"Slaying suspect surrenders in move arranged by Quanell X" - Quanell X is what passes for an "Islamic extremist" in Houston. Pretty scary, I know.

"Critics want voice in toll road planning process" - And yet, no commissioners were assassinated. Sunni constitutional committee members in Iraq aren't quite so lucky.

Wait, he's still talking.

"And if you took that as the image of what is a great city that has an incredible quality of life and an incredible economy, it's amazing to me. Go to Iraq. And see what's actually happening there.

Is it safe to travel outside the Green Zone yet, Tom? Because your implication is that the quality of life and economy of Iraq are comparable to that of Houston, and I haven't needed to wear my flak jacket or take an armored convoy to the mall for, oh, a couple of months now.

Of course, one of the main reasons people are afraid to come to Houston is because Tom Delay lives in such close proximity. It keeps me up at night sometimes, I tell you what.

Changing one's mind is a majority leader's prerogative

Flip flop!

Reversing field after a meeting with President Bush, Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist said he will continue pushing for a floor vote on John R. Bolton for U.N. ambassador. Frist switched his position after initially saying today that negotiations with Democrats to get a vote on Bolton had been exhausted.
...
Just about two hours hour earlier, Frist said he wouldn't schedule another vote on Bolton's nomination and said that Bush must decide the next move. Frist, R-Tenn., had said there was nothing further he could do to break a Democratic stalemate with the Bush White House over Bolton, an outspoken conservative who, opponents argue, would undermine U.S. interests at the world body.

But he changed his tune after talking to Bush

It's this kind of bold leadership that makes Frist a shoo-in for his party's nomination in 2008.

Describing his talk with Bush, Frist said: "The decision in talking to the president is that he strongly supports John Bolton, as we know, and he asked that we to continue to work. And we'll continue to work."

"It's not dead," he said. "It is going to require some continued talking and discussion."

Not dead? So would that mean Bolton's nomination is in...some sort of persistent vegetative state?

Too soon?

"We'll continue to work to get an up or down vote for John Bolton over the coming days, possibly weeks," he said.

Deputy State Department spokesman Adam Ereli had greeted Frist's initial announcement with a declaration that Democrats had left Bolton "hanging in the wind."

Given the part of the male anatomy Bolton is most often likened to, "hanging in the wind" sounds about right.

Because I never tire of my own "wit"

Excerpt from a conversation with The Wife this morning about taking our daughter to her 18-month checkup:

Pete: So, you've got her for the doctor's appointment and the swim class afterward?
The Wife: Yeah, don't worry about me. Just go enjoy your zombie movie.
Pete: You know, I did take her to her last three appointments.
The Wife: The hell you did.
Pete: 9 month, one year, and the time she had that fever.
The Wife: Yeah? Well I gained [n] pounds and went through breastfeeding. Beat that.
Pete: Hey, it's not my fault god hates your sex.

I was expecting another expert right cross delivered to my already perma-bruised upper arm, but she actually laughed at that one.

"I hate to disappoint you, but my rubber lips are immune to your charms."

Sounds like Warner Bros. does not love this woman:

Christian Bale, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman have signed to star in a second Batman movie, but love interest Katie Holmes has been dropped. Movie bosses are thrilled with the response to Batman Begins - it took $46.9 million in its first weekend at the US box office - and have snapped up the film's stars for a sequel.

"Thrilled?" After Mr. & Mrs. Smith took in $50 million the weekend before? Granted, BB's five day total was a respectable $72 million, but don't let Warners fool you into thinking they're anything more than mildly pleased at those results.

Bale as Batman was the first to put pen to paper, followed by Caine as butler Alfred and Freeman as Bruce Wayne's business associate Lucius Fox. But Holmes won't reprise her role as district attorney Rachel Dawes - reportedly because Warner Bros is angry her engagement to Tom Cruise has stolen media attention away from the movie. A source tells Pagesix.Com, "Everyone is in agreement that the movie's strength is with Christian Bale, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman." Adding of Holmes, "She won't be in the sequel... the next romantic interest will be a much stronger actress. Warner is happy that people are now focusing on who'll be playing the Joker rather than Katie and Tom."

I guess they're trying to spare her feelings, but the sad truth is that Holmes' lack of dramatic heft and disconcerting resemblance to a 13 year-old boy made her stick out like a sore thumb. When you've got Bale, Caine, Freeman, Liam Neeson, and Gary Oldman in your cast, it might behoove you to trot out a leading lady whose last dramatic conflict wasn't whether or not to date the hunky Secret Service agent assigned to protect her.

I'm not going to speculate on who's playing the Joker, because I think the question of selecting the next female lead is more interesting. Unless they want to bring back characters that have already been used (Vicki Vale specifically, I don't think we'll be seeing Schumacher's Dr. Chase Meridian or Julie Madison again), the romantic options are all over the place. Linda Page? They'd have to modernize the hell out of her. Kathy Kane? Nah, "Batwoman" would be way too Schumachery. Silver St. Cloud? Only if they change that name. Talia Al Ghul? Doubtful, though she would probably be the most interesting. Not out of the question for a third film, if at all, as she could be seeking revenge for her father.

Female villains, meanwhile, are rather thin. Poison Ivy was a bust, and WB would sooner bring Chris O'Donnell back than even say the word "Catwoman" in the new films.

Then again, Warners could just embrace the extended continuity and bring in Harely Quinn. She's a fan favorite, and complements the Joker nicely.

Never mind. They'd probably cast Lindsay Lohan.

Bad TV Ponderings - Blue Collar TV

You might be a redneck if you have an unhealthy interest in Bad TV Ponderings

Finally, the 21st century has its Hee Haw.

When I first saw commercials for Blue Collar TV, I knew it was just a matter of time before it made it on to the Bad TV Ponderings roster of distinction. As Marion Ravenwood once said, "Something made it inevitable." All that was left was for me to set aside 30 minutes one evening to strap myself into the Barcalounger, Clockwork Orange-style, and power through it. The other night my chance presented itself. I managed to lock myself out of the house and subsequently failed to take She Who Shall Not Be Named to her water babies class, what better time to go for the trifecta of personal failure?

BCTV features the sketch comedy stylings of Jeff "I Made a Career On a Joke That Wasn't Funny the First Time I Told It, Much Less the 10,000th" Foxworthy, Bill Engvall, and Larry the Cro-Mag Cable Guy, whom we'll discuss a little later. In overall quality, I'd put it just under the Simpsons Smile-Time Variety Hour and just over whacking your penis with a mallet to get all the congealed gonorrheal pus out. But only just.

Foxworthy opened the show I saw with what can charitably called "stand-up comedy," provided you're still a fan of "Baby on Board" jokes a mere 20 years after George Carlin used the same material. Then we go to the sketches. No sacred cow is left unmilked: from an adult playing a 12 year-old on steroids to three grown men dressed as babies in a prolonged backseat vomiting gag (it appears puking is used as a punchline at least once a show). You'll laugh harder than you did at the latest Ben Stiller movie, and then your own entrails will strangle you, for this is the closest thing to Vogon poetry I hope we as a species ever experience.

Almost everyone involved with this miserable exercise in comedy suicide deserves to be given a blanket party. I can almost, almost, cut Engvall some slack. I've heard his routine, and it isn't without entertainment value.

Larry the Cable Guy, on the other hand, makes me believe - if there is a god - he either abandoned his creation some time around the Pleistocene Era or is actually consciously evil, a la, Prince of Darkness. I first became aware of him on Sirius' uncensored comedy channel, where he's quite popular (probably because many Sirius subscribers are truck drivers who have consumed such insane quantities of crank they can no longer discern human speech from the incessant drone of their own engines). The majority of Larry's shtick is predicated on how women think differently than men and thinly veiled slurs against homos, which are immediately made better by his please for forgiveness from Jesus. Then he'll trot out the defense that the country has gotten "too P.C." for comedy, which is still the best refuge for the guy who wants the freedom to make jokes about "niggers" and "faggots."

There are three possibile explanations for the phenomenon that is Larry:

1) The redneck act is total bullshit. Not to say the dude is from Finland (he's actually from Nebraska, which makes the Stars and Bars cap a little suspect), but the only way his alleged "jokes" work at all are when they're delivered in conjunction with the sleeveless plaid shirt, trucker cap, and exaggerated moronic drawl. Played straight, his routine would get him booed from the stage at Bob's Country Bunker.

2) It's all an elaborate gag at his own expense. In other words, he's making himself the joke by presenting an outre image of the undereducated, ignorant American. Trouble is (and this one's a long shot), the vast majority of his audience aren't grasping the subtlety of the gag. You can make the argument that Andrew Dice Clay was attempting something similar with his "Diceman" persona, but his fans were overwhelmingly Iroc-driving mooks who shared Diceman's affection for the word "gash."

3) He's n a successful biological project financed by a joint venture between Clear Channel and NASCAR, who cloned him from genetic material collected from the port-o-johns of Talladega Superspeedway.

Whatever the answer, I'm clearly in the minority. He has the highest charting comedy album since 1978 (Steve Martin's A Wild and Crazy Guy) and his 2004 tour outgrossed Chris Rock's.

Meanwhile, Bill Hicks is still dead.

"Is this the end of Zombie Shakespeare?"

Sounds like Universal is making plans for more Dead films, even before the latest one hits theaters:

Land of the Dead is the follow up to the classic George Romero 80's film Day of the Dead and if all goes well with this new release it will the beginning of a whole new "Dead" series.

The producers and director George Romero told the IESB that a sequel to this new film will made if this film is successful. Considering that Land of the Dead cost less than 20 million to produce, DVD sales alone should guarantee a profit to the studio.

In fact, all other projects of the helmer will have to take a backseat in the immediate future if Universal decides for an immediate follow up to Land of the Dead including his involvement in Mick Garris' Masters of Horror Anthology that is currently being filmed in Vancouver.

The next film will be a second chapter to the story that we see in Land of the Dead, we will see the surviving characters continue their search for survival in what has become a World of the Dead.

I'm seeing Land tomorrow with The Thing. Advance word has been extremely positive, though I've stuck with my policy of not reading any early reviews. I'm just happy we're finally getting a new Romero zombie movie after a 20 year lag.

It boggles the mind to think of the crap the man had to deal with to get another Dead movie greenlit, while Uwe Boll was inexplicably given money to direct the reek-tastic House of the Dead and Romero himself was passed over for Paul W.S. Anderson so the latter could direct Resident Evil. I hope Romero gets a trilogy out of this, so the guy can make some money and finally profit from assholes like Boll and Eli Roth hijacking his reputation.

Ironically, Land of the Dead might suffer from being released at more or less the tail end of a three-year glut of zombie flicks (the aforementioned HotD, both Resident Evils, 28 Days Later, Undead, Shaun of the Dead, and the Dawn remake, to name what I can off the top of my head). Everyone seems to take it as a good sign that they moved the release date up from August, but I'm not so sure.

True, it's opening the same weekend as Bewitched and Herbie: Fully Loaded, and I can't think of three more disparate target audiences, but you've still got Batman Begins to contend with, and War of the Worlds opens next Wednesday. I think Land will do respectably, but I'll be surprised if it opens higher than #5.

And how many post-zombie apocalypse movies can Romero realistically make? I assume the humans get booted from their stronghold in Land, which leaves them dealing with the undead out in the open in the next movie. Where do they go next? Underground? The high seas? Outer space?

Oh well, I hope I'm wrong. And besides, I'll be their opening night for any new zombie movie from The Master.

"And all the world is biscuit shaped"

For only the second time since moving into our house four years ago, someone (most likely consarned teen-aged punks) has vandalized my car. Nothing serious - merely a single egg on the driver's side window - easily cleaned with no permanent damage.

The only reason I mention it here is because it occured almost three years to the day since the last incident (also a lone egging). At that time, I composed this little homily to my youth for a mailing list I'm on. With your indulgence (and because I'm watching Game 5 and not up for much in the way of deep thought), I'll present it here (in updated form) for you.

-----
Someone egged my car last night.

I had a number of reactions to this: bemusement that kids[1] are still doing something as prosaic as egging things; minor annoyance that I had to go back into the house and get 409 and a paper towel[2]; and a feeling of (literally) warm, gooey nostalgia.

Back in my day(TM) you could egg things, sure, but those can do a lot of damage to the paint, especially if the eggee doesn't notice it right away. Toilet papering (or "wrapping") was mostly harmless, but the amount of time and number of people necessary for a thorough job almost always worked against the pereptrators. Some guys I knew used pickles (seriously) in their weekend rounds, and maybe the sweet gherkins were okay, but those kosher dills could bust a window, or worse. No, we in my select circle of adolescent malcontents preferred a more holistic approach to high school rampages. We used biscuits.

You know the kind I'm talking about - round-cut in a can that popped when you opened it. Buttermilk were nice, but not required (crescent rolls were right out). You could get eight or ten cans for a dollar back then, and many were the raised eyebrows elicited by a cluster of adolescent weiners coming through the checkout at HEB with nothing but a gross of Pillsbury Hungry Jack.

Fairly bursting with doughy goodness, we'd return to the vehicle of choice (a suitable conveyance was always required for a successful Biscuit Assault Run). Sometimes it would be my 1975 Buick LeSabre - the lack of a support between the front and rear side windows made for excellent sidearm throws. Other times we would take a friend's station wagon - put the tailgate down and two could stand up in back for dual 360 degree turret action.

From there it was hijinx galore. No neighborhood escaped, though being budding leftists we tended to frequent the posher subdivisions. No school building was safe, and woe be to any girl who had recently broken up with/mocked/ignored us[3].

And always remember: the biscuit sticks better if you chew it up for just a few seconds prior to throwing, too long and it's like throwing a handful of batter.

I'll point out that biscuits come off of cars, houses, and cats quite easily. Plus, there's none of the social backlash involved with eggs, toilet paper, or *shudder* mailbox baseball. Biscuiting is very pacifistic. You come away with a sort of vanilla
sense of bad boyishness, even though you haven't really done anything.

Having my car egged doesn't upset me. If I believed in karma, I'd call it payback for other, more barbaric, acts of my youth (and honestly, I'd be amazed it didn't happen every night, weekend, and bank holiday). Hell, if egging my piece of crap vehicle keeps them from going after The Wife's or the neighbors' cars, I'm willing to lean into the strike zone.

It's just sort of depressing that ever since my high school days, I've never come across anyone else who enjoyed the time-honored exercise in dorkitude known as biscuiting.

Hey, *you* grow up in College Station.

P.S. The Spurs won.

[1] I hope
[2] It's the cleanest that side of the car has been in months
[3] That covered just about all of them

"Give us a Super Squishee, Apu."
"One that's made entirely out of syrup."

It should go without saying that I see a lot of movies. I don't have much in the way of habitual behavior when I go to the theater. I prefer an aisle seat (the better to make a hasty exit should the place catch fire, and I can avoid the center sections, where most of the talkers seem to congregate), and I occasionally like to get a drink. A medium Diet Coke is my poison, of which I'll usually consume half and then eat the ice (another reason sitting away from others is a wise move).

Most of the promo screenings are at one of the two Edwards Theaters in town. A medium drink was, until last week, $3.75 for 24 oz. When I came in for my caffeine and aspartame fix on Tuesday, however, I discovered things had changed:

Cashier: Can I interest you in one of our combos?
Pete: Christ, no. Medium Diet Coke, please.
Cashier: That'll be four dollars?
Pete: Four? When did that happen?
Cashier: Uh, last week. I think.

Okay, whatever. Summer crowds are bigger, so Regal Cinemas (Edwards' parent company) apparently felt like squeezing a little extra profit out of moviegoers.

Pete: Okay, fine. Four dollars it is.
[the cashier pours my drink and deposits a cup of ridiculous proportions on the counter. The thing is clearly a 32 oz. cup.]
Pete: I'm sorry, I ordered a medium.
Cashier: That is a medium.
Pete: ...That's a medium?
Cashier: Yes, sir.
Pete: [realizing he can barely fit both hands around the thing]. Okay. Thanks.

Jesus. I assume hope people ordering the large (44 oz.) are sharing, because there's absolutely no way one human being can consume that much fluid in a movie that runs - on average - an hour and 45 minutes and not have to void their bladder like a beer-bonging freshman. Even worse is the drink that comes with the aforementioned combo, which is 2 liters (68 ounces) of soda goodness that comes in a cup with a bore like a 120-mm howitzer shell.

And forget bladder capacity. How much goddamned sugar is in a non-diet drink that big?

Forming opinions about movies so you don't have to

Reviews, for those who might require a little extra nudge to get them into their local air-conditioned cinemas:

Batman Begins
Red Doors
Howl's Moving Castle

Paging Captain Obvious

CNN must be using scab headline writers these days:

College towns lead in marijuana use

Stay tuned for related stories about the evils of processed foods and how rottweilers don't like it when you poke them with a stick.

The article is actually about a study on drug and alcohol use by region, none of which makes the results any more surprising:

For marijuana, 5.1 percent of people around the country reported using marijuana in the previous 30 days. In Boston, the home of Boston University, Boston College, Northeastern and several other colleges, 12.2 percent reported using marijuana in the previous 30 days.

John Auerbach, executive director of the public health commission for the city of Boston, said the survey might not reflect current marijuana use in Boston because the data came from 1999-2001 national surveys.

Yeah, I'm sure recreational drug use didn't go up at all after 9-11.

Federal officials said they highlighted the marijuana report because it's the most commonly used illicit drug. But the survey also measures 11 other categories.

For example, the survey measures binge drinking -- defined as five or more drinks in one setting.

Nationally, 20 percent of people age 12 and older reported one or more episodes of binge drinking during the previous month.

Previous month? Try previous night.

They really need to scale that "binge" definition up for those of us who don't have a problem and can quit any time we want.

Boston scored high in that category, too, with nearly 30 percent of respondents acknowledging binge drinking.

That seems a little low. Guess this was a pre-World Series poll.

Straight (meat)ballin'

The Wife and I were watching Morgan Spurlock's latest, 30 Days, on F/X last night. This episode asked the question of whether it's really possible to live on minimum wage for a month. Short, and obvious, answer: no fucking way. But any good social Darwinist will tell you to lower taxes and let the market shake itself out, and everything will be taken care of.

Because that's how it's always worked in the past.

More entertaining than that depressing slice of guilt, however, was the exchange we had following a certain Dr. Pepper commercial. You know the one: a guy who looks like Abbie Hoffman is subjected to all manner of emasculating humiliations by his griflriend (Buying tampons! Folding panties! Yoga!) before finally putting his foot down when the evil harridan attempts to snatch his DP. And it's all set to the strains of "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)." Let's listen in:

Pete: This commercial annoys the piss out of me.
The Wife: Shh, I like that Meat Ball song.
Pete: Meat...Ball? You mean Meat Loaf?
The Wife: Right, Meat Loaf. What did I say?
Pete: [snicker] "Meat Ball."
The Wife: Shut up, you know what I meant.
Pete: [singing] "On top of spa-GHETTI." That meatball song?
The Wife: God, you're an asshole.
Pete: I loved "Ball Out of Hell."
The Wife: Look, zombies.
Pete: What? Where?

Thus distracted by the Land of the Dead trailer, I promptly forgot about the incident until today.

CineVegas Day 3 - Bring Me the Head of Bryan Adams

I've never watched an Arena Football League game. True, I don't watch much pro football in general, but arena ball always struck me as, well, pretty freaking goofy. 50-yard fields? End zone nets? Grand Rapids has a team? Pull the other one.

Still, when Gore told us he had tickets to Arena Bowl XIX (between the Georgia Force and the Colorado Crush) at the Thomas & Mack Center on Sunday, I was more than happy to go. Few sports are so boring (e.g. golf and NASCAR) that being there live isn't an entertaining experience, and arena football is no exception.

Though maybe for the wrong reasons.

One thing I noticed right away as you came up on the stadium was the small crowd, especially by regular football standards. Arena ball has a ways to go before it enjoys the attendance numbers of even some Texas 4A high schools. Parking was easily had, and the cheerleaders were hanging out right there, where every corpulent fan who flew in from Marietta could just reach out and touch them. Wicked.

I don't know what the capacity of the T&M Center is, but the place wasn't near full. Our seats also left a little something to be desired. We were on the second level, and from our vantage we couldn't even see one of the end zones. We (and about a hundred other like minded goobers) decided to move to a better position(the score at this point: COL 27, GEO 20):

Believe me, these were better than our original seats. They were on the 50 25-yard line and right next to the woefully deserted press section (and several surprisingly attractive news interns). Nevertheless, better seats were still to be had, and after spending a quarter or so (score: COL 58, GEO 55) scoping out the lower sections, we spied a few likely areas and made our move.

And lucky us, we got there just in time for Bryan Adams' smoking 3-song set:

That's him, just to the lower right of the red light. It was kind of eerie how he and every member of his band all wore identical jeans and black t-shirts. They looked like part of the touring cast for "Stomp," which is almost scarier than the idea of a Bryan Adams concert in the first place.

You know, there isn't much to say about Adams at this point. The guy's been Canadian's most embarrassing export since Doug Henning (or Gino Vanelli) for so long, I almost don't have the heart to give him any more grief. Except to say this: Bryan Adams is a one of the most shameful trend exploiters the music business has ever seen. His songs are now and have always been the worst sort of middle-of-the-road hackneyed crap, engineered to shift the largest number of units possible to the kind of folks who buy their music at Wal-Mart, and he latches on to whatever audio fad (Celtic melodies, Spanish guitars) is hot at the time to facilitate this. Adams is governed solely by the cold machinations of the market, not any love for music or "creating." Worse, this has always been the case. Adams was never a wide-eyed youth who ended up getting chewed up and spat out by the music industry; he's been a soulless, cynically calculating profit maching since Day 1. And to top it off, the guy released an album called "Waking Up the Neighbors," then bought and shut down a neighborhood bar that made too much noise near his house. If I could've lobbed a brick at the sonofabitch and gotten away with it, I would have.

But where were we?

Anyway, our new seats were a mere four rows back from the action. And I have to admit, it was pretty entertaining.

The cheerleaders came out and threw little miniature footballs into the crowd at one point in the 4th quarter (score: COL 104, GEO 89). I caught three and got my hand on two more. I kept one for She Who Shall Not Be Named, and gave one each to Mark and Gore (I checked for any kids who might not have one, the better to impress the ladies, but they all seemed to be taken care of).

Eventually, the game ended. Colorado ended up winning 624 to 576. Here's Crush owner John Elway (and AFL Chairman...wozname, he's the big goon on the left) waiting to take the field in triumph:

And here's the ensuing triumph we spoke of:

Not much to report after that, we headed back to the Palms for a few more drinks, and I went to the airport later on to catch my flight (described in detail below). Arrivederci, Vegas. My liver thanks you. My wallet and sense of moral decency, on the other hand...

CineVegas Day 2 - My Kingdom for A Better Mix Tape

There are few things more miserable than the red-eye flight back to anywhere from Las Vegas, especially when you're unable to sleep and the movie playing is The Wedding Date (starring Debra Messing and Dermot "Hey, This is My Second Shitty Movie with 'Wedding' in the Title" Mulroney in a reverse twist on Pretty Woman's "whore makes good" theme). Continental also, for some reason, really enjoys taking off from one terminal (C) and landing at another one (E), necessitating a 3/4-mile walk to get to one's car.

But you don't want to hear about that. You want to know about [a] all the money I won, [b] the booze I drank, and [c] the colorful personalities I met during my adventures in Vegas. These can be addressed pretty easily: [a] $12 on a Star Wars slot machine, [b] beer, mostly, and [c] none, after Friday.

Wasn't up for gambling most of the time I was there, for some reason. I've come to the conclusion that casinos disturb me, and not just for the legions of zombie tourists playing the slot machines arrayed in ranks around the creamy nougat center of craps and blackjack tables. No, I think this it's because this is one of the first times I ever spent a significant amount of time outside while in Vegas. And after taking in the "scenery" at the Palms hotel pool or the view from the Ghostbar, subjecting yourself to the unending parade of blinking lights and droning beeps and whistles inside is somehow not so appetizing.

Another creepy thing all of us in attendance noticed: the entire city of Vegas seems to be on the same soundtrack. Every casino, club, and party we went to played the same goddamn songs, even if there was an alleged DJ present. Worse, all seemed to be roughly one year old. There was that one about not being a "holla back girl," whatever the hell that means, and also the one by some girl who claims her milkshake brings "all the goys to the barn," or something. Fairly innocuous, you say? Not 50 times over the course of two days.

I mean, I always assumed Vegas (the Strip, especially) was this massive networked series of gaming and security systems, all run by some vaguely Yog-Sothothian being housed in a giant cave under Nellis Air Force Base. I just wasn't expecting it to be confirmed so conclusively.

So...Saturday. Got up around 9:30, picked Chris up at the airport, hung out at the pool until 1:30 or so, then watched movies (reviews up shorly) until party time. The organizers of the festival did a pretty good job wrangling everyone around, even if I did end up sitting on the floor for one film.

Let me 'splain. I got an aisle seat for Firefly (no, not that one) and there's one empty seat next to mine. An older couple comes up to my row and the man slides into it. He looks at the woman and says something like, "Looks like there's only one." She mumbles something about that being fine and proceeds to hunker down on the steps next to our row.

Maybe this "every elderly marriage partner for himself" attitude is normal Vegas behavior, but I found it pretty incredible. No other seats were forthcoming, of course, and Mr. Chivalry didn't show any inclination of relinquishing his throne, so as the lights went down, I got up and asked the woman if she'd like to take my seat. She did, thanking me gratefully. I told her it was no problem, not adding that I doubted even a couple hours sitting apart would've eased the pain of having to live with that insufferable prick for the last 40 years.

But enough about that. The first party we hit that night was at someplace called Green Valley Ranch, which hosted Saturday's Tyson fight (he lost). Beautiful place, with a huge outdoor area and all the Kronenbourg I could drink. That turned out to be a lot. It was the anniversary shindig for Vegas Magazine, meaning a lot of local beautiful people were there, not just film types. I contented myself with watching dudes take cellphone pictures of the mermaid models and trying to stand behind TV interviewees while acting like I was about to throw up.

The next party was at Light, the Bellagio club. I think the only way I could gain admittance to this place on any other night would be if I was dating Lindsay Lohan, and I'd probably still have to wait in the ugly people line for a few minutes on general principles. And for what? Light is like every other dance club I've ever been to: deafeningly loud, unnaturally dark (kind of ironic, given the name), and stuffed to the rafters with obnoxious wannabe "players" and the women who spend their money. We couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Literally. We had to take an elevator.

Chris and Mark retired at that point. I hung out at the hotel bar and watched Sportscenter for a while. Next up: ArenaBowl XIX.

Is this thing on?

Evidently my gracious hosts have recovered from angering Zeus last weekend and repaired their lightning fried equipment. Stay tuned for a return to crapulence.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

Provided you can remember any of it.

I'm half the man I used to be. Literally. Collapsed last night around 1 AM (which is 3 AM Houston time, let's not forget). Mark made it in around 4:30, and in my stuporous condition, I momentarily thought I was back home and he was an intruder, and came close to taking action to defend what I thought was my property.

Which would have been an unwise move. Mark's a black belt.

Fortunately, we made it through the incident and are now dealing with the aftermath of both the opening party - at the Ghost Bar, which is situated on a 40-story balcony at the Palms, which would have been scary as bejesus if I hadn't already been well into the Stella Artois - and the Hustle and Flow after party, where I discovered that Cuba Gooding, Jr. is surprisingly tall. Or I might have been slumping in near collapse.

He didn't answer my question about the status of Snow Dogs 2

Goofing off in the press lounge now (free Area 51!). Movies start for me at 3 PM (Vegas, remember), then there are reportedly several more parties at several more venues that I normally wouldn't be allowed within spitting distance of without my nifty all-access laminate.

Fortunately, no one ever talks to me once I get inside anyway, so the status quo hasn't changed too much.

Place your bets

We're heading out today to CineVegas in, you guessed it, sunny Las Vegas, NV. Since I doubt they have wifi in he McCarran County Jail, posting here will be sporadic until Monday. We're staying...off the Strip, not that it matters. All you need a hotel for in LV is a quick blood transfusion and puke and you're back out on the casino floor. Am I right, people?

And no reviews this week, for a variety of reasons. What are you going to the movies for, anyway? Read a damn book.

So says the movie reviewer.

Damn you, Kevin Smith

An Exercise in Improper Gym Etiquette

Where: A gym. Duh.
When: More recently than I care to admit.
Who: Your humble narrator and an unidentified female gym member.

To set the stage, I'm loitering around the exercise mats, trying to summon up the intestinal fortitude necessary to do my wimpy preacher curls in front of a bunch of guys built like Goldberg, when the aforementioned UFGM emerges from an aerobics class to look for, I assume, medicine balls. Unsuccessful in her quest, she unwisely turns to me:

UFGM: Hey, have you seen any balls around here?
Pete: Biggest pair you ever...*mmmph* [clamps own hand over mouth]
UFGM: [backing away] Never mind.

Apologies to those who haven't seen Clerks.

Eating Crowe

Having thrown no small number of objects out of rage myself, I know all too well the remorse a certain antipodean actor is feeling right about now:

Crowe used the "Late Show" platform to apologize to his wife and to Nestor Estrada, the concierge hit under the eye by the flying phone.

"Hopefully at some stage, I'll be able to apologize directly to Nestor but at the moment, he's not answering his phone," Crowe said.

Well, no shit, Russell. If merely seeing a spider at an inopportune time in one's life is enough to traumatize some people, I imagine getting a phone getting hurled at you might make you a little squirrelly around the devices.

CNN, in between banner headlines updating us on the search status for the pretty white girl, added:

Crowe, who plays a boxer in his new movie "Cinderella Man," was arrested on charges of assault and criminal possession of a weapon in connection with Monday's incident, in which police say he hurled a telephone at the concierge of the Mercer Street Hotel in Manhattan.

The actor was taken away in handcuffs and later released on his own recognizance. If convicted of assault, he could face up to seven years in prison.

Seven years is a little severe. Besides, I've come up with a solution that will satisfy all concerned parties as well as the governments of both of our great nations:

Image brought to you, once again, by I Am Not A Goddamn Graphic Artist, Ltd.

It was worth a shot

Got this e-mail last night:

Dear Sir,

Thank you for your enquiry below. However, we are unable to provide you with a screener for our motion picture "Godzilla Final Wars" for review purposes.

Sincerely,
[some dude from Toho]

Now I just have to imagine him snickering with his friends over my clumsy attempt to get a jump on the July 4 premiere.

The "Batusi" was sexual enough, thanks

Just to get it out of the way, I have seen Batman Begins, and it's almost as good as everyone is saying it is. I liked it better than Burton's first, personally, and it ranks as one of the best movies I've seen all year.

Now then, seeing how the new Batman will probably go a long way towards restoring some needed respectability to Warner Brothers' handling of DC Comics properties, maybe someone at WB should have a little talk with Christian Bale:

Batman Begins star Christian Bale is urging producers to release two versions of the next Batman movie, so that the Caped Crusader's sexuality can be explored. The actor, who has already signed up to star in a second Batman movie, believes it's time for the powers that be to show the comic book superhero's R-rated side, while also releasing a film for younger fans. Bale says, "I do think there is a lot of room for, like, an R-rated Batman. It's a little bit tricky to broach the sex aspect of the story when you want kids to come see this as well. I mean, we still like for a 12-year-old to come see it and enjoy it. I think it would be very interesting, myself, to do maybe one version, which can be both PG-13 and R - two different cuts of it. The (Batman) graphic novel certainly dove into his private life because it's fascinating. He's got to do something sexual at some point. I think it could be an interesting storyline to take somewhere."

I've read Batman and Detective Comics, as well as a number of Elseworlds titles and graphic novels, off and on since I was a little kid. Therefore I feel qualified in saying that Christian Bale is out of his freaking mind.

There may be huge, beer-drilled holes in my memory, but I don't think even Miller's Dark Knight Returns showed Bruce Wayne/Batman getting busy. True, he kissed Selena Kyle, but he's done that plenty of times (most recently in the "Hush" storyline).

Batman's a fighter, not a lover. He's the World's Greatest Psychopath Detective, and when he's not breaking the legs of unlucky criminals, he's training/skulking in the Batcave. Occasional tangetial plotlines (such as marrying the daughter of R'as al Ghul) to deflect suspicion about the whole "youthful ward" thing aside, it isn't like romance has ever played that big a part in the character's history.

[The again, it wouldn't surprise anyone to discover there are fans who'd like to see a fully costumed Caped Crusader "in action," but that doesn't sound like what Bale's talking about.]

Superhero movies are pretty sex free, in general (we're talking the biggies here, not The Specials or Orgazmo). But for argument's sake, let's say Bale convinces David Goyer and Christopher Nolan that there's this sizeable yet silent contingent of Bat-fans who want the character to explore a mature adult relationship in between pounding thugs into mush: Warner Bros. would never go for it. The idea itself is box office poison, and after letting Joel Schumacher swish up the proceedings in the two films before this one, WB will be staying far away from anything salacious.

Besides, Batman doesn't "have to do something sexual" at some point simply because - of all the superheroes I can think of - he's the only one who rarely shows any interest in that particular area. And nobody (that I'm aware of) is clamoring for Emmanuelle in Gotham City, where Batman shows a timid (yet curious) Marcela Walerstein the batcave's secret pleasure chambe