A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

Oscar, Oscar, give me the news

Heedless of either their inherently capricious nature or their increasing irrelevance, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences released their nominations this morning. Because I have an unhealthy fascination with all things Oscar-related (including, but not limited to, the Grouch, Jack Klugman, and Steve Austin' boss), I felt it necessary to weigh in here.

Because where else would I do it?

Best Picture
Good Night, and Good Luck
Brokeback Mountain
Munich
Capote
Crash

Spielberg won't win Best Picture again. Not so soon, anyway. The question is whether or not Hollywood likes congratulating themselves over their realization that, gosh, racism sure is a problem (Crash) or that the love between two men can be a beautiful thing (Brokeback Mountain). I predict the latter, because - frankly - Crash wasn't that great.

Then again, two of the best movies of 2005 (Syriana and Millions) weren't included. So what do I know?

Best Director
George Clooney - Good Night, and Good Luck
Bennett Miller - Capote
Ang Lee - Brokeback Mountain
Steven Spielberg - Munich
Paul Haggis - Crash

Spielberg deserves this. Munich was probably the most accomplished of the films on this list. Lee will win, however.

Best Actor
Joaquin Phoenix - Walk the Line
Heath Ledger - Brokeback Mountain
Philip Seymour Hoffman - Capote
David Strathairn - Good Night, and Good Luck
Terrence Howard - Hustle and Flow

No Viggo Mortensen. No Russell Crowe. Strathairn's a bit of a surprise, and Howard is here solely to assuage the Academy's guilt at not nominating another person of color for any of the other acting awards.

I dunno. Before the GGs and the SAG awards, I would've had to stick with Heath Ledger, but Hoffman's momentum might be insurmountable.

Best Actress
Charlize Theron - North Country
Felicity Huffman - Transamerica
Reese Witherspoon - Walk the Line
Judi Dench - Mrs. Henderson Presents
Keira Knightley - Pride and Prejudice

Memo to the Academy: just because someone finally managed to show hints of acting ability where previously there had been none does not equal a "great performance." With that in mind, please erase Keira Knightley's nomination with extreme prejudice.

Memo 2: this also applies to great actresses barely making an effort. So, same goes for Dame Judi Dench.

Witherspoon should Walk (snerk) in this one. Theron was good, and Huffman's character was interesting, but her performance wasn't all that stellar. Transsexuals are so 2001, anyway.

Best Supporting Actor
William Hurt - A History of Violence
George Clooney - Syriana
Paul Giamatti - Cinderella Man
Matt Dillon - Crash
Jake Gyllenhaal - Brokeback Mountain

How Hurt got nominated for what amounts to a humorous cameo when Ed Harris' truly sinister performance was overlooked makes about as much sense as nominating Jake Gyllenhaal, who played a cowboy about as convincingly as Luke Perry. I liked Clooney, but Giamatti is going to be another in a long line of actors who were snubbed for better performances and later given the Supporting Actor statue as a consolation prize (Pacino, Newman). Dillon was pretty good, but after what an asshole he was to one of our guys at Sundance, I can't root for him.

Best Supporting Actress
Frances McDormand - North Country
Michelle Williams -
Amy Adams - Junebug
Rachel Weisz - The Constant Gardener
Catherine Keener - Capote

I haven't seen Junebug, but I am assured by those who have that Adams is fantastic. That's good enough for me, especially considering there wasn't much exceptional about Weisz, and McDormand needs to lose in order to put a stop to the nauseating trend of “stoic diseased person” roles.

Best Adapted Screenplay
Josh Olson - A History of Violence
Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana - Brokeback Mountain
Dan Futterman - Capote
Jeffrey Caine - The Constant Gardener
Tony Kushner and Eric Roth - Munich

Kushner and Roth are cheating, since they had 1986's Sword of Gideon as a template. I never read Le Carre's novel, so I don't know if Jeffrey Caine merely transcribed the hysterical polemic or created it, but it was hard to swallow either way. Having never read the book Capote's based on, I'll go with Brokeback, mostly because I like looking smart, but also because I don't think Proulx's short story had any actual dialogue.

Best Original Screenplay
Stephen Gaghan - Syriana
Paul Haggis and Robert Moresco - Crash
George Clooney and Grant Heslov - Good Night, And Good Luck
Woody Allen - Match Point
Noah Baumbach - The Squid and the Whale

Gaghan's squeaking in here, because the Academy ruled the film differed sufficiently from Robert Baer's book to be viewed as an original work. Baumbach gets my vote, hands down, though I suspect the multiple plotline Crash will win, because the Academy is always impressed by shit like that.

Oh, and Woody Allen shouldn't even be here, considering he essentially remade his own film.

Best Documentary Feature
March of the Penguins
Darwin's Nightmare
Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room
Murderball
Street Fight

Grizzly Man's not nominated, which means they've thrown up five also-rans. Personally, I think Murderball should get it, but the sheer number of voters residing in California might tip it in the Enron doc's favor.

Best Cinematography
Batman Begins
Brokeback Mountain
Good Night, and Good Luck
Memoirs of a Geisha
The New World

I was asked - via e-mail - the difference between cinematography and art direction. Cinematography involves selection of film, positioning of the camera and the lighting of the scene, which is supervised by the Director of Photography (DP). The DP works hand in hand with the director to best capture the "look" of the movie. Art direction is more or less synonymous with "set design," art directors work closely with the DP as well, however.

Having said that, the only two contenders here are The New World and Brokeback Mountain. And since no one saw Malick's latest, I'll have to go with Brokeback.

Because in any light, Anne Hathaway has a nice rack.

Wasn't that the title of a Janet Jackson album?

Jeez, I leave town for a week and we get the earth-shattering revelation of the name of Houston's MLS team. And it appears that every one of my suggestions was ignored. Figures.

The city's Major League Soccer team will be known as Houston 1836. The team colors will be white, orange and black.

The name's main reference is the year Houston was founded by John and Augustus Allen on the banks of Buffalo Bayou. It also marks the year Texas declared its independence from Mexico, the Battle of the Alamo and the defeat of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna's Mexican army at the hands of General Sam Houston in the Battle of San Jacinto during the Texas Revolution.

Uh oh. That's going to cause some problems...

By naming the team Houston 1836, the newly arrived Major League Soccer franchise has chosen to identify with a year that may divide the city rather than unite it. While the team intends to highlight Houston's founding along the banks of Buffalo Bayou, the year also commemorates the defeat of the Mexican Army by a largely Anglo Texan militia at the Battle of San Jacinto. Whether by ignorance or design, choosing 1836 has the potential to alienate Houstonians of Mexican origin, a group that is surely a large part of the team's fan base.

I understand Prof. Ramos' concern, really, but the fact that the year of Houston's founding coincides with Santa Ana's embarrassing ass kicking on the banks of the San Jacinto is merely an unfortunate coincidence.

Team officials state that 1836 was primarily chosen to represent the city's founding. A team name doesn't have the luxury of explaining itself. The link to Texas secession from Mexico during the Texas Revolution is inescapable

Uh, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but that's kind of one of the defining moments of the state's history. Certainly the majority of us would prefer to forget about introducing slavery and invading Mexico in 1846, as Ramos mentions in his article, but to try and shame people in Texas over declaring themselves a Republic after defeating one of the worst generals in history isn't going to amount to much.

Houston has undergone many transformations and reinventions since 1836. Digging the Ship Channel, the Galveston hurricane of 1900, discovering oil and sending a man to the moon all took place since then and all changed the face of the city. Naming the team 1836 smacks of nostalgia for a time when Mexican people were absent or at least knew their place.

Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explaind by stupidity, Prof. Ramos. The date of the city's founding was the easiest choice they could make. Of course, he's demonstrating his own insensitivities with his alternatives here. How many people were displaced by the digging of the Ship Channel? And why the hell would we name a team after the biggest natural disaster in our history? Why not just call them 2001? Allison was a pretty big deal, too.

Apparently 1900 isn't as insensitive because the people who died then were primarily Anglos.

Shit, why don't we just name the team after the year air conditioning was introduced? I think that's something we can all agree was a Good Thing.

The team has started its relationship with the Latino community off on the wrong foot. Short of changing the name, the team needs to make extra efforts to appear open to Latino Houstonians.

Only then, and by removing Sam Houston from the logo, will the team come to symbolize the promise of a global capital.

Here's how they're going to "appear open to Latino Houstonians:" they're going to take your money just like they take everyone else's. That's really the best indication that the Latino community has acheived a kind of parity here in Houston. Mexican-American Houstonians are going to pay exorbitant ticket prices and $7 for a beer at the concession stand, just like their Anglo brethren. Welcome to the Promised Land.

Getting on the right Page

I saw a movie at Sundance called Puccini for Beginners that was easily one of the best of the festival (review here). Gretchen Mol was in it, and I had to look up her past roles to refresh my memory about who she was (she appeared in Celebrity and Rounders, among others). After seeing the trailer for The Notorious Bettie Page, however, I don't think she's going to be hard to remember for long.

Does it look like fairly standard biopic stuff? Sure, but this is Bettie page we're talking about. For those who may be unfamiliar with her, uh, body of work, here's a side-by-side comparison. Page on the left, Mol on the right:

Yeah, I'd still have to go with the original. I'm curious about what they're going to show, and about how much of the Senate investigation they're going to talk about.

Wait, did I just say "Senate investigation" in a Bettie Page post? Have you no decency, Pete? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?

Fly the Brenly skies

Me and planes.

To start with, the schedule at this year's Sundance Film Festival was pretty grueling. I saw 21 movies and a shorts festival over the course of six days, most of the reviews currently residing over at Film Threat (I haven't been able to will myself to sit down in front of a computer to bang out the last two yet). Combine that with having to actually try and come up with something remotely interesting and unique to say about all of them in a timely manner, and you come up with little time to blog or do much of anything else.

This applies to everyone, by the way. Don and Mike shared equivalent burdens, while Eric and Mark not only saw movies but conducted interviews and edited the site to keep the coverage lively. We would've loved to have partied more, believe me, but we just plain ran out of time.

Which brings me to Friday. My flight left SLC at 10:30, taking me to Phoenix to pick up my eventual connection back to Houston. A good idea in theory, except for some reason my Houston flight was cancelled, apparently while I was in the air. Not that anyone at America West bothered to tell me, of course, I had to hear it from The Wife after landing. Sure enough, the 1:15 to IAH was scuttled, leaving me to scramble to get on the next available flight, which left at 7:15. This was, of course, delayed until 8 PM.

Sky Harbor isn't a bad place to spend 7 or so hours. There are several bars, and ample places to plug in a laptop with a DVD player to watch movies (Return of the Living Dead and several Season 5 Simpsons episodes). You also get to meet interesting people, like the guy going to Portland with his girlfriend to take a state trooper exam, or the German gentleman who timed his layover so he could watch the semifinals of the Australian Open.

When you want to get home as badly as I did, however, it sucks ass. One of the last times I was on a plane, I got held over in San Diego for about six hours after being unceremoniously yanked off an overbooked flight (documented here). I'm not sure if this is some kind of sign, but I'm glad I won't even have to think about flying for another six months or so.

Still, this was my best Sundance. Out of three, this is the first one in which I returned relatively healthy and hangover-free. Saw lots of celebrities, including the aforementioned Roger Ebert, Liz Phair (Don almost fainted when she brushed against him at the Sundance Lounge), Josh Rouse, Michael Rappaport (twice), and Jake Busey. Quite the A-list, I know, and I missed Corey fucking Feldman by a matter of minutes. Even so, I came home like I always do...drained as if Stormbringer had been inserted into my thorax and about two years older. Good times.

Less than two months until South by Southwest, which - compared to Sundance - is like three days in an opium den. Actually, it's like that anyway. Plus I can drive and stay with a friend who lives near downtown.

Oh, and the title of this heading is hilarious if you know anything about Arizona's MLB team. Honest.

While I'm here....

I see, via Norbizness, that I've been nominated for a 2006 Koufax Award for Blog Most Deserving of Wider Recognition. It's a select group of, by my count, about 8,000 blogs. And while I'm not going to sink to negative advertising, I will merely point out that of those nominated, at least 99% have more traffic than mine. Just saying.

And thanks to whoever nominated me, as I've been so absorbed with Jenna Elfman's new TV show I couldn't be bothered to do it myself.

The grass is always greener

On the other side of the velvet rope.

Well, that was humiliating. After being told I had an RSVP+1 to the Tommy Lee party tonight, I went on to discover that neither of the publicists or the press person had my name on any of their lists. After spending a good 45 minutes trying to determine what the hell was going on, we gave up. My sincere apologies once again to my friend Joy for making her drag her ass all the way down from Park City Mountain Resort for nothing.

Maybe she'll have better luck at the MySpace party, which is going on up there. It's the party this year, featuring the Beastie Boys. FT's own Mark Bell will be doing the press line thing.

Which reminds me, Mark has been doing a hell of a job getting video coverage up this time around. Go check out the daily updates here (the latest of which shows IFC's Evan Sha-PIE-ro responding to his inclusion on our annual Frigid 50 list).

Anyway, the party. I guess I've been spoiled up here, because I've never faced the uniquely humiliating experience of waiting on the other side of a barricade while others of your unfortunate ilk surge against the obstacle like kids at a Who concert, desperate to gain access to a hot, smoky room where they will be forced to stand, four people deep around a bar, screaming their drink order while shitty dance music plays at 140 decibels. If I hadn't been with somebody, I would've bailed after five minutes and gone to the brewery.

But then I wouldn't be here talking to you nice people. So there you go.

"You're gonna need a bigger coat."

Sage words spoken by the master of movie reviewing, Mr. Roger Ebert, whom I met (where else?) at a Chinese buffet. A very nice guy, who mentioned how much he liked Film Threat. I wonder what he would've said if I lied and told him I was with AICN.

The schedule's been pretty hairy, going to 3 or 4 movies a day and trying to bang out reviews in a somewhat timely manner. I still had time to attend one of the Blender parties last night, where we enjoyed free vodka and danced the night away to the musical stylings of Metal School, possibly the only post-modern hair metal cover band.

I'm about to head over to Main with Don "Brigham" Lewis and see Todd Snider. I need to confirm a bet I made concerning whether or not he's still on smack. Tonight, the inestimable Tommy Lee is throwing a party, and I may have an in for that as well.

Jesus, it's like 1987 all over again. Only this time I can legally drink.

I didn't bring my digital camera, so any pics I take with these crappy disposable jobs won't be up for a while. And I'm sure many of you were waiting to see how much taller I am than Ebert (about a foot).

Toodles.

Doc doc goose

I overheard somebody say there are something like 120 documentaries showing at this year's Sundance Film Festival, and since I'm too lazy to actually look it up someplace, I'll go ahead and present it here as fact.

And I think I'm seeing half of them.

Rolled into Park City yesterday, endured a shuttle ride from SLC with a guy who must have been enjoying his first day on the job. We were in the van for almost 2 hours, meaning I had somewhat less time to decompress before hitting the first screening of the day.

Last night: Black Gold - about the plight of Ethiopian coffee growers, Wrestling with Angels - about playwright Tony Kushner, and Clearcut - about the town in Oregon that, until recently, provided college scholarships to all graduating high school students.

Sharing a condo with most of the same folk this time around. In addition to myself, there's Don Lewis, Mike Ferraro, Mark Bell, Eric Campos, and TV's Chris Gore. Don, Mike, and myself are situated in what is affectionately known as "Brokeback Bedroom."

They made the joke only about a dozen times yesterday, and it's still funny, by gum.

We're busy as hell this year, seeing four movies a day. I'll post when I can, if only to remind you how much fun bopping around Park City with a few thousand black-clad douchebags in Von Dutch hats really is.

Confession Time: Scarlett Johansson

Sorry, not that type of confession. By which I mean, not the sort of confession elicited by long, unbroken shots of her underwear-clad derriere in Lost in Translation, or the endless publicity photos of her bosoms straining heavenward on the red carpet before the Golden Globes. No, I speak of something much more mundane: my questioning of her alleged talent as an actress.

I first became aware of Johansson, like most people, when she appeared opposite Thora Birch in Ghost World (no, I didn't see The Horse Whisperer or Home Alone 3, and - like you - even if I did I wouldn't admit it). GW was Enid's movie, but Johansson got some attention for her work, even if most of what she did was offer her counterpoint in awkward adolescent fashion. Which was kind of the point. Whatever the case, she was on the map.

Her star didn't rise too much in her next film, Eight Legged Freaks. it wasn't that she did a bad job, exactly, but when you're billed below the likes of David Arquette and Kari Wuhrer, I imagine you just grit your teeth, brandish your tennis racket at some giant spiders, and make the best of it.

Lost in Translation, which found her playing alongside Bill Murray, was her real breakthrough. But at the time we saw this, The Wife and I thought we must have been the only people on the planet who found it extremely overrated. Yes, Charlotte and Bob are alienated and lonely, but too much of the dialogue sounds like stuff Sofia Coppola cribbed from conversations she overheard in a bar, and I'm sorry, but presenting your ass like a ham in a windowsill and flirting with Bill Murray does not a great performance make.

It sure is funny how those Japanese mispronounce shit though, isn't it?

Didn't see Girl with a Pearl Earring, and thought she was severely outclassed (if you can believe it) by Dennis Quaid in In Good Company

Which brings us to Match Point (I could talk about The Island, but why bother?). Woody Allen's latest is getting some rave reviews, probably due to the fact that it isn't really a "Woody Allen movie." It's a competent enough thriller; adroitly filmed and just plausible enough to get your attention. Johansson, however, is almost painful to watch. From her stiff line readings to her obvious boredom during the scenes of supposedly smoldering passion, nothing she does convinces me she can actually act. I was, frankly, shocked when she was nominated for a Golden Globe as Best Supporting Actress, with the same Oscar a possibility as well.

I won't deny that she is unconventionally good looking, and has a great voice/body, but you will never convince me she's that good an actress.

And the bellwether for that, as we all know, is pretending to enjoy sex with Billy Bob Thornton (link goes to one of the most disturbing celebrity web sites I've seen).

Thoughts upon watching The New World

Who there, Terrence...slow it down a bit. Throw in a few more leisurely pans and a couple more scenes without dialogue. No need to rush things.

"Your money's on the dresser, chocolate."

Oh Ray Nagin, how you continue to dazzle:

Mayor Ray Nagin on Tuesday apologized for urging residents to rebuild a "chocolate New Orleans" and saying, "You can't have New Orleans no other way."

"I'm really sorry that some people took that they way they did, and that was not my intention," the mayor said. "I say everybody's welcome."

Nagin added that he never should have used the term "chocolate."

No shit, Ray. This is New Orleans. You could've at least used the French term: chocolat. That way maybe Johnny Depp might've shown up and defused the situation with his languorous charm and off-color teeth.

Resident Alex Gerhold called Nagin's remarks "stupid" and "pitiful."

"He used the wrong dairy product to describe us. We're more Neapolitan, not chocolate," Gerhold said. "It doesn't do the city any kind of justice."

Dude, I've been to New Orleans. Many times. The only flavor that would do your fine city "justice" would be called Urine Fudge Vomit Crunch.

And who's the strawberry in your Neapolitan equation, Mr. Gerhold? Hispanics? Gays? Are you really prepared for blood in the streets over a simplistic flavor designation?

On Monday, Nagin said God wanted New Orleans to be predominantly black and said he didn't care what the predominantly white Uptown section of the city had to say about it.

"I don't care what people are saying Uptown or wherever they are. This city will be chocolate at the end of the day," he said. "This city will be a majority African-American city. It's the way God wants it to be."

This is the same god that completely destroyed the African-American 9th Ward by pummeling the city with a hurricane and allowing the levees to break in the first place, right? He certainly does work in mysterious ways.

After the statement, he insisted he wasn't being divisive.

"How do you make chocolate? You take dark chocolate, you mix it with white milk, and it becomes a delicious drink. That is the chocolate I am talking about," he said. "New Orleans was a chocolate city before Katrina. It is going to be a chocolate city after. How is that divisive? It is white and black working together, coming together and making something special."

Leaving aside the Pam Grier fantasy this metaphor raises in my mind, Nagin's backpedaling is funny stuff. He probably would've gotten more respect if he'd just admitted he wanted New Orleans to be a primarily black city. As it stands now, his best bet will be to appeal to the vanilla types to come back for Mardi Gras next month.

"I'm a fiddler crab! It's fiddler crab season!"

Awards season swung into full magniloquent mode with the Golden Globes ceremony tonight. It was a pretty good night for Brokeback Mountain, which took Best Picture-Drama, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay. There should be quite the showdown on Oscar night between Philip Seymour Hoffman (winner for Capote), Joaquin Phoenix (winner for Walk the Line), and Heath Ledger, who many still consider a strong contender.

I generally like the Globes ceremony better than the Academy Awards, as they're usually a looser affair. Steve Carell's acceptance speech was a highlight, even if his show (The Office) is a pale imitation of the original, and one which I've sat through two episodes of without cracking a smile once.

Anyway, the critics association that I'm...associated with - The Online Film Critics Society - announced their 2005 winners yesterday. And they are:

Best Picture: A History of Violence
Best Director: David Cronenberg, A History of Violence
Best Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Best Actress: Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Best Supporting Actor: Mickey Rourke, Sin City
Best Supporting Actress: Maria Bello, A History of Violence
Best Original Scrrenplay: Good Night and Good Luck, George Clooney and Grant Heslov
Best Adapted Screenplay: Brokeback Mountain, Larry McMurty and Diana Ossana, based on L. Annie Proulx short story
Best Cinematography: Sin City, Robert Rodriguez
Best Editing: Sin City, Robert Rodriguez
Best Score: Brokeback Mountain, Gustavo Santaolalla
Best Documentary: Grizzly Man
Best Foreign-Language Film: Downfall (Germany)
Best Animated Feature: Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
Breakthrough Filmmaker: Paul Haggis, Crash
Breakthrough Performance: Owen Kline, The Squid and the Whale

I voted for exactly two of those, I think. And not for the big categories, but there it is. Sin City got three awards? Okaaaay.

And I guess the writer/producer of the Oscar-winning Million Dollar Baby deserves the "Breakthrough Filmmaker" award because...Crash was a really deep meditation on how racism is bad, and stuff.

Sunday, cruddy Sunday

Sunday night on APCB is when we dance. Or, failing that, it's when we catch up on crap we let slip through our fingers otherwise.

1. My first review in a few weeks is up at Film Threat. I think you'll find Glory Road as least as compelling as The Big Green, if not quite up to the lofty standards of D2: The Mighty Ducks.

2. I have been remiss in keeping up with Jennifer Shiman's excellent 30-Second Bunnies Theatre. Head over there to check out A Christmas Story, Highlander, and Star Wars.

3. I suppose it was too much to ask for the Longhorns and the Bears to win it all in the same year. In any event, I can now root for the Steelers (The Wife's favorite team) with a clear conscience, and also hope that the Cajun Candyass himself, Jake Delhomme, is concussed early and often against the Seahawks next week

Seriously, that guy should be a soccer player, as much as he pisses and moans to the officials. I half expected him to drop after getting grazed by Tommie Frazier, clutching his shin and begging for a red card.

Seeking copy editor

This pic on the Houston Chronicle site has since been corrected (it originally ran on Friday), but the fact that it made it there at all is pretty hilarious:

Who knew Mary Kay Letourneau had an oratory contest?

Nobody tells me anything

Apparently last week was National Delurking Week (I saw it written in two places, making it as truthful as anything currently on Oprah's Book Club). I know it's not technically "the week" anymore, but if you're one of the few people who reads APCB and doesn't yammer on endlessly in the comments section like a horde of drunken magpies, feel free to announce your presence.

And in order to make everyone feel welcome, I hereby declare a 24-hour grace period, during which The Thing That Walks Like A Man is not allowed to hit on you.

Hi diddly-dee, the entertainment writer's life for me

From the "I Can't Make This Shit Up Department," here's an excerpt from an e-mail I received from a studio rep yesterday:

Big Mommas are everywhere this weekend
Twentieth Century Fox will target urban audiences in a joint national initiative with the Loew’s Magic Johnson theater chain for Big Momma’s House 2

HOUSTON… Families around Houston are invited to come meet two local Big Mommas and win prizes this Friday, January 14 and Monday, January 16 at the Loew’s Magic Johnson Theater at Northline Mall for a promotional event for Twentieth Century Fox’s family film BIG MOMMA’S HOUSE 2 starring Martin Lawrence.

Schedule for BIG MOMMA’S HOUSE 2 event:
Loew’s Magic Johnson Theater at Northline Mall
Saturday and Monday, January 14 and 16
4 p.m. – 7 p.m. – Big Mommas will interact with theater patrons and giveaway prize packs.

Because when I think "African-American cinema appropriate for Martin Luther King Day," I think of several Martin Lawrence-in-a-fat-suit clones. Maybe they could package Big Momma's House 2 as a triple-feature with Harvard Soul Man and Song of the South.

About BIG MOMMA’S HOUSE 2:
In 2000’s “Big Momma’s House,” Martin Lawrence had his “largest” role ever, as an FBI agent who is a master of disguise. To trap a brutal bank robber, Lawrence went deep undercover – impersonating a fun-loving granny known as Big Momma. Now, Lawrence is back as the boldest, biggest, and baddest Momma ever, in the mother of all comedies: BIG MOMMA’S HOUSE 2. This time, Lawrence transforms himself into Big Momma to avert a national security disaster. But saving the country is the least of Big Momma’s problems, as he takes on his ultimate challenge – being nanny/housekeeper to the suspect’s dysfunctional family.

So, it's like Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? meets a syringe of bleach in the eyes and a railroad spike in the gut? Excellent.

It's not an army of super zombies, but it's a start

Via The Fat Guy, I see that the Taiwanese aren't sitting idly while waiting for the Chinese to cross the Straits of Formosa. They're making glow-in-the-dark pigs:

Scientists in Taiwan say they have bred three pigs that glow in the dark.

They claim that while other researchers have bred partly fluorescent pigs, theirs are the only pigs in the world which are green through and through.

The pigs are transgenic, created by adding genetic material from jellyfish into a normal pig embryo.

The researchers hope the pigs will boost the island's stem cell research, as well as helping with the study of human disease.

Not to mention providing live artillery markers for the Red Army.

Leaving aside the awesome ramifications of adding one species' genetic material to another (I'm holding out for endless rows of shark teeth and a scorpion tail), let's consider the nigh endless possibilities of luminescent pigs:

+ Power outages will no longer signal the end of a Pink Floyd concert

+ For use as nocturnal guard animals against Islamic burglars

+ Randy rural youths will have to be a little more discreet with their affections

+ Late night BLTs will be a lot easier to make in the dark

+ Babe 3: The Day After

+ Police department will save a fortune on those blood/semen-detector thingies

+ Easier for Circe to round up

Okay, when I've started referencing Odysseus, it's time to quit.

And the Dr. Seuss joke is too obvious.

Going back to Calley

As an addendum to my entry about Hugh Thompson, I have to relay the story of The Wife’s association with Lt. William Calley.

Obviously, she’s too young to have actually known Calley, having been born…some time after My Lai even took place. Her parents, on the other hand, were quite aware. The Mother-in-Law was a staunch liberal, and followed Calley’s trial with interest. The Father-in-Law was in the Army at the time, and while he probably didn’t follow the case as closely, he had a deeper connection. I’m not going to post family photos (especially when they aren’t my family), but trust me when I say that in the mid-70s, the Father-in-Law was a dead ringer for the man behind the My Lai Massacre. I’m told when he was in uniform and out in public during Calley’s trial in the late ‘60s, there were actual fears for his safety.

All that really proves is how drug-addled Americans really were in the 1960s, considering Calley was being tried in Ft. Benning, Georgia, while the Father-in-Law was stationed in New York.

The best part, if you want to call that, came in 1974, when Calley was going through his appeals. He got a lot of face time on the network news, and the infant who would one day become The Wife would point to him on TV, calling him “Daddy,” much to her mother’s dismay. Luckily, her dad retired from the Army, and no permanent mental scarring took place. That I know of.

Good thing none of her extended family resembles Charles Manson.

"Ze goggles, they do nothing."

Via BoingBoing comes this delightful Flickr gallery of people's reactions to being exposed to Goatse for the the first time:

For the last couple of years, my friend Laszlo Toth has been conducting a cruel experiment. He shows his friends Goatse and then takes a photo of their reaction.

Want to play along at home? When you Goatse your friends, just tag the photos “firstgoatse” and add it to the “First Goatse” group.

Are you one of the dwindling few who are unaware of the horrors of Goatse.cx? Well, you won't find anything to satisfy your perverse curiosity here, sickos. Go look at the Wikipedia entry, or do a Google image search, if you're honestly confused.

These are a couple of my favorites. First, there's the guy whose world has suddenly collapsed upon itself:

And then a man who has no business being surprised by anything anymore:

You know it's bad if The Hedgehog can still find enough disgust submerged in the dregs of his humanity to wrinkle his nose at it.

That gosh-darned rodeo

As the Chronicle puts it, "The 2006 RodeoHouston lineup looks a lot like the top of the country music charts." If you consider that a good thing, you have my deepest sympathies:

It also bears a passing resemblance to last year's list of rodeo performers. The two notable exceptions are Sheryl Crow and former Creedence Clearwater Revival frontman John Fogerty, both of whom will make their first rodeo appearances.

Of the 24 music and comedy artists announced Monday as part of this year's RodeoHouston, Feb. 28-March 19, a third are returnees from last year's schedule.

The other two-thirds, unfortunately, seem to include just about all the acts that might appeal to anyone who doesn't consider putting "a boot in your ass" sensible foreign policy:

Last year's post on the rodeo lineup was, in my mind, the definitive examination of rodeo concert history, so I'll make this quick:

Feb. 28 -- George Strait

This will make 19 appearances for George, who's still working community service for Pure Country.

March 1 -- Trisha Yearwood

That marriage to Chris Gaines Garth Brooks is making a lot more sense now, considering it's been 12 years since her last rodeo gig.

March 2 -- Sheryl Crow

People blame her for breaking up Lance Armstrong's marriage. I don't. I blame her for taking the obvious songwriting talent behind "Strong Enough" and "Leaving Las Vegas" and making treacly crap like "Soak Up the Sun."

I'd offer my wishes that Lance could give her music more balls, but he doesn't have a lot to spare.

March 3 -- Black Heritage Day -- Maze featuring Frankie Beverly and Raven

Raven? As in Cosby Show and That's so Raven Raven? That's the best you could come up with for Black Heritage Day? Last year's half-Puerto Rican Alicia Keys seemed a little more qualified.

March 4 -- Martina McBride
March 5 -- Clay Walker

As was the case last year, I know nothing about Martina McBride. Clay Walker gets a few points for at least living sort of near Houston.

March 6 -- Robert Earl Keen and Cross Canadian Ragweed
March 7 -- John Fogerty

I'm not one to order my readers around, but if you're going to check out any live acts at the Rodeo this year, these are the two days to do it. Wait too long, and...

March 8 -- Toby Keith

Seeing as how Mr. Personality here was sitting on the OU sideline during the Red River Shootout, I hope 10,000 of my Longhorn brethren show up in burnt orange on the 8th and pelt this bloated, reactionary gasbag with jalapenos. After which, he can clamber into his Ford truck and speed away to his hotel room, where a nonstop parade of Latino rent boys "massage" away his tension.

March 9 -- Maroon 5

I bet these guys showed up last year on a lark, figuring they'd add the Rodeo as a bit of a break from their constant touring schedule that placed them in front of thouands of screaming teenage girls every night.

And I bet these has-beens are glad they were asked back this year.

March 10 -- Pat Green

Did anybody ever believe your pseudo-self-deprecating good ole boy shit?

March 11 -- Lee Ann Womack
March 12 -- Go Tejano Day -- Ramon Ayala and Jay Perez
March 13 -- -- Spring Break Stampede -- LeAnn Rimes
March 14 -- -- Spring Break Stampede -- Larry the Cable Guy and Cory Morrow

Sweet cheroot of Beirut, this is the show to attend this year. If you've got tickets, I want in. I want to "Haw haw" along with Larry's brilliant routines about edible underwear and those wily homosexuals. I want to bellow "Git-R-Done!" along with a hundred score flabby racists in sleeveless flannel and trucker caps. I want to be the first guy on my block to vomit from accidentally downing half a can of Skoal Long Cut (wintergreen).

March 15 -- -- Spring Break Stampede -- Alan Jackson
March 16 -- -- Spring Break Stampede -- Hilary Duff

See March 9.

March 17 -- -- Spring Break Stampede -- Lonestar
March 18 -- -- Spring Break Stampede -- Brooks & Dunn

At least they ended the Rodeo on a high n..oh, never mind.

Snausages

Being single sucks.

I have no immediate first-hand knowledge of this, of course. The Wife and I have been married almost ten years, and have been together more than twelve. I base my opening claim on my own pathetic experience as a bachelor many moons ago and the bar I was in last night.

The place was (and is, unless it was firebombed by angry/horny males) called Deco, and is one of many in Houston that feature poor ambient lighting, cacophonous music, and minimalist furniture. The occasion was my friend Jessica's birthday (I offer her name because she's commented here before). I'm fairly certain a big part of her reasoning behind picking the place was the fact that it was smoke-free, plus it has a fairly diverse clientele. All races, creeds, sexual orientations, and horny eveningware styles were on display.

Then again, it couldn't have hurt that - of the dozen or so people in our group, nine were single females. We got there early (the childless definition, meaning 9:00), but by 10:30 there was quite the sausage party going on. I reckoned the male-to-female ratio to be in the 8:2 range, but either way, the ladies had the advantage. This was a happy coincidence, for if you remember, I referred to the diversity of the patrons. Unfortunately, a Sri Lankan dork is still a dork, meaning a good deal of culling had to be done.

I assisted where I could, occupying the end position on the couch to discourage uninvited gentlemen. I'm not sure if my effectiveness was a result of strategic seating our the generally murderous expression I wear on my face at all times.

One of the more enjoyable parts of the evening was when the only other two males in our ensemble headed next door to BW3 (a local wing joint), leaving me seated with ten good looking women. I got more than my share of stinkeyes from the growing phallic hordes, which was immensely gratifying.

Even though I made an early night of it, I managed to come up with some cogent observations on the state of the singles scene here in Houston. Enjoy.

1. Tuck your shirts in, fellas. Do you not own belts? Last time I checked, a long-sleeved Oxford wasn't meant to flap around your ass. And yes, my shirt was untucked as well, but I'm married. My wife's lucky I have pants on when I leave the house.

2. You ladies really like those low-rider jeans, don't you? Yeah, they don't, uh, really work for everyone.

3. $4.50 is not an adequate price for a bottle of beer unless nudity (partial or full-frontal) is involved.

4. No amount of leather or designer clothing will distract women from your male pattern baldness, or the fact that you're cropping your hair close to hide it.

5. Openly hitting on the waitress does not impress the females in your immediate vicinity.

It's a wonder people get laid at all.

"When you have evil, sometimes, in the midst of it, you will have incredible, selfless good. And that's Hugh Thompson."

Hugh Thompson Jr., former Army helicoper pilot, died yesterday at the age of 62. Why should you care? Because of this:

Early in the morning of March 16, 1968, Thompson, door-gunner Lawrence Colburn and crew chief Glenn Andreotta came upon U.S. ground troops killing Vietnamese civilians in and around the village of My Lai.

They landed the helicopter in the line of fire between American troops and fleeing Vietnamese civilians and pointed their own guns at the U.S. soldiers to prevent more killings.

Colburn and Andreotta had provided cover for Thompson as he went forward to confront the leader of the U.S. forces. Thompson later coaxed civilians out of a bunker so they could be evacuated, and then landed his helicopter again to pick up a wounded child they transported to a hospital. Their efforts led to the cease-fire order at My Lai.

In 1998, the Army honored the three men with the prestigious Soldier's Medal, the highest award for bravery not involving conflict with an enemy. It was a posthumous award for Andreotta, who had been killed in battle three weeks after My Lai.

Thompson ordered his crew to shoot if the American soldiers fired on the civilians. He radioed gunships to land and escort the surviving Vietnames out of the village, and they did. He then went to his superiors to report on the massacre. Even after another soldier, Ron Ridenhour, came forward to confirm his account, Thompson and his crew were treated as pariahs:

The eyewitness testimony of Thompson and Colburn proved crucial. But instead of thanking them, America vilified them. Many saw [platoon leader Lt. William] Calley as a scapegoat for regrettable but inevitable civilian casualties. "Rallies for Calley" were held all over the country. Jimmy Carter, then governor of Georgia, urged citizens to leave car headlights on to show support for Calley. Thompson, who got nasty letters and death threats, remembers thinking: "Has everyone gone mad?" He feared a court-martial for his command to fire, if necessary, on U.S. soldiers.

Calley was sentenced to life in prison, but served a mere three years after President Nixon reduced his sentence. He works now in a jewelry store in Ohio.

This passage, from the US News article, sums things up pretty well:

Thompson finally faced the truth. He and his crew flew around for a few minutes, outraged, wondering what to do. Then they saw several elderly adults and children running for a shelter, chased by Americans. "We thought they had about 30 seconds before they'd die," recalls Colburn. Thompson landed his chopper between the troops and the shelter, then jumped out and confronted the lieutenant in charge of the chase. He asked for assistance in escorting the civilians out of the bunker; the lieutenant said he'd get them out with a hand grenade. Furious, Thompson announced he was taking the civilians out. He went back to Colburn and Andreotta and told them if the Americans fired, to shoot them. "Glenn and I were staring at each other, dumbfounded," says Colburn. He says he never pointed his gun at an American soldier, but he might have fired if they had first.

"Hero" isn't a word I bandy about lightly, but Hugh Thompson Jr. was one. Rest in peace.

"Are you being sarcastic, dude?"
"I don't even know anymore."

Esteemed commenter (and fellow fantasy football casualty) Denny brought it to my attention the other day that his wife heard that "cromulence" is going to be entered in the dictionary. Which dictionary wasn't specified, but mention on the news generally means the OED, if I'm not mistaken.

I did some looking around for info, but couldn't find anything about it. Denny had helpfully included a link to another site that dares use "cromulent" in its title. I've known almost since the beginning that there are many who would've liked to call their particular arena for bloviation "A Perfectly Cromulent Blog" (simply because I know everyone Googling that phrase isn't looking for me specifically), but I got here first. So...nyah.

Which isn't to say there aren't a lot of other allegedly cromulent sites out there. For example...

Perfectly Cromulent - Personal web page for a young lady from New Jersey with a link to a sporadically updated LiveJournal account. She appears to be obsessed with Johnny Depp and Grey's Anatomy.

Urban Dictionary - Cromulent - I go back and forth with UD as the #1 hit for the c-word. Of course, I'm probably not helping my cause by linking them here. DON'T CLICK.

cromulent.org - Philadelphia-based weblog that hasn't been updated in - by my estimation - almost two years. Allegedly returning in '06.

cromulent.com - A placeholder page to let us know "cromulent.com" is not for sale and is, in fact, used for something. What, we don't know.

Wikipedia's list of neologisms on The Simpsons - What a great page, and "cromulent" gets pretty much the biggest entry, including:

Based on the context in which Miss Hoover uses the word cromulent, we can interpret that it means "legitimate" or "appropriate." Based on the way Principal Skinner uses it, it can be interpreted as meaning something similar to "more than acceptable" or "more than adequate;" these usages would also (in an assumed lexical context) satisfy Miss Hoover's use of the word. Lisa uses it later in that episode, when instead of telling the truth about Jebediah Springfield, she accepts that the myth and the made-up words have inspirational value.

Both "embiggen" and "cromulent" were quickly adopted and used by Simpsons fans. Cromulent has taken on an ironic meaning, to say that something is not at all legitimate and in fact spurious.

The ironing is delicious.

The Weblog of Internacular - Sort of like Urban Dictionary, in blog form. Uses "cromulent" in its layout and has the obligatory link to the word's definition (which currently takes you to a 404 page with a toothsome pinup gal). Last updated December 5, 2005.

The USS Cromulence - An EZBoard page devoted to - one hopes - a fictional Federation starship. Last updated in 2003.

The Road to Cromulence - A "social club" message board on the Motely Fool website. Okaaay.

And you don't want to know what the "embiggen" sites are dedicated to, believe me.

Good news, everyone

You've all been very naughty indeed.

It's late, to be sure, but Xmas may be coming for Futurama fans:

Fox TV`s Emmy-award winning cartoon series 'Futurama' may not be history after all, it was reported Wednesday.

Talks are reportedly under way at 20th Century Fox to revive the animated series set in the next millennium, Daily Variety reported.

The final original episode aired in August 2003, but like 'Family Guy,' it found new life on DVD as well as in reruns on the Cartoon Network.

In fact, the reruns have become so popular, Comedy Central has snatched the rights to them starting in 2008, Variety said.

As the article states, Fox would have to retrieve the production team (who scattered to the four winds before the final episodes even aired), and get the voice talent back. I hope they manage it, not just because I loved the show, but because Fox can use the karmic equilibrium after canceling Arrested Development.

Though I understand they also renewed Stacked for another season.

The stars at night, are big and bright...

National fucking Champions, baby:

Thirty six years in waiting. Texas won tonight's Rose Bowl and the national championship in a spectacular 41-38 comeback win over USC.

Quarterback Vince Young was the difference-maker, scoring the winning touchdown in the dying seconds en route to a 200-yard rushing performance. With nineteen seconds on the clock, Young made a 9-yard dash count and added the two-play for good measure to seal the win.

I admit, I didn't have a lot of hope about the outcome of this game. I am happy to say I was amazingly wrong. Here's hoping Vince Young stays another year, and that I have at least that long to rub it in to my OU and A&M friends.

Hook 'em Horns.

"Can't we have one meeting that doesn't end with us digging up a corpse?"

They found Mozart's skull, eh?

Have scientists found Mozart's skull? Researchers said Tuesday they'll reveal the results of DNA tests in a documentary film airing this weekend on Austrian television as part of a year of celebratory events marking the composer's 250th birthday. The tests were conducted last year by experts at the Institute for Forensic Medicine in the alpine city of Innsbruck, and the long-awaited results will be publicized in "Mozart: The Search for Evidence," to be screened Sunday by state broadcaster ORF.

Past tests were inconclusive, but this time, "we succeeded in getting a clear result," lead researcher Dr. Walther Parson, a renowned forensic pathologist, told ORF. He said the results were "100 percent verified" by a U.S. Army laboratory, but refused to elaborate.

The skull in question is one that for more than a century has been in the possession of the International Mozarteum Foundation in Salzburg, the elegant Austrian city where Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born on Jan. 27, 1756.

They didn't want to use "Mozarteum," but "Imaginarium" was already taken.

So was "Requiemenagerie." Probably.

The Foundation's just lucky this guy didn't find it:

Too obscure?

"You've got to hold the football like you would hold your lover. Gently, yet firmly. You wanna be both nurturing and clinging at the same time. Oh, yes."

I'm not talking much about the fact that the Longhorns are playing for the national title against USC this week in the Rose Bowl. I'm keenly aware of how hard it's going to be to beat Reggie Bush and Matt Leinart in what is essentially a home game for Southern Cal, but more importantly, I don't believe any Trojan fans read APCB, so what would be the point?

I will submit two data points, however:

1. I reenacted the Rose Bowl on NCAA Football 2006 (thanks Father-In-Law) for the Xbox this week, and the Longhorns - led by a phenom freshman halfback with the same last name as the writer of this blog - beat USC soundly, 34-17.

2. Then there's the issue of the recent injury to Texas QB Vince Young:

Are you fucking kidding me? How is going to throw with his hand like that?

Then again, it can't really hurt his form.