A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

"SnakePlissken6969 gave it five stars!"

Basshole brought up a good point in the comments for my 2008 top 10 movie entry, though probably not intentionally:

I just have to say I was rather underwhelmed by Dark Knight (but loved Batman Returns). You can be frenetic and still tell a story; this wasn't it. Ledger WAS good, though I wonder how much attention that would've gotten if he didn't have the good fortune to drop dead.

This was followed up by a similar comment from Emily. And while I'm as big a fan of Michelle Pfeiffer in a catsuit as anyone, I assume both of you were referring to Batman Begins.

Anyway, part of the disconnect that comes from critics praising a movie highly and, say, somebody seeing it a few weeks or months after that fact certainly has a lot to do with the tyranny of elevated expectations. I saw The Dark Knight a good two weeks before release. There had been rumors about Ledger's performance and how well-crafted it was to that point, but nothing like the orgy of critical acclaim that was to come shortly thereafter.

Fast forward a month or so, words like "masterpiece" and "epic" have been bandied about in reviews, and you might be heading in assuming the film in question is as fan-fucking-tastic as everyone is saying. Trouble is, that's almost never the case: partly because almost no movie is ever that good (and certainly not if your benchmark for criticism is Peter Travers or Jeffrey Lyons), but mostly because you can't help yourself from at least unconsciously believing something receiving so much praise must be pretty damned good. I know that happens to me all the time, the most recent example being The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas.

I still think Ledger's performance would be getting a lot of attention, however.

You're the Top (Ten) - 2008

This year's list (released before February, so it's not entirely irrelevant) may be the last semi-comprehensive one I'm able to do for a while. I've scaled back my reviewing duties recently, all in preparation for what will likely be - at the least - and extended shutdown when the twins arrive. Even in '08, I missed a lot. Here's the best of what I saw.

10. Doubt - John Patrick Shanley rises above the legacy of Congo and Joe vs. the Volcano. And I say this as someone who really likes Joe vs. the Volcano.

9. Rambo - There is no god but the M2 .50 caliber, and Rambo is its prophet. Stallone's most famous character not named after a flying squirrel and a Spanish explorer finally embraces his destiny.

8. Gomorra - Hey, here's a thought: lets let the Italians make a Mafia movie. I bet they don't sugarcoat it like the Americans. Remorseless.

7. In Bruges - Colin Farrell accepts the challenge of co-starring with Brendan Gleeson and gives his best performance in recent memory as a distraught hitman cooling his heels in Belgium. By turns violent and touching, this one was a pleasant surprise.

6. The Dark Knight - Yeah, it went on too damn long, and the Two-Face storyline was probably better left for another movie, and Batman had a funny voice (a complaint nobody made about the first movie, for some reason), but it was still a hell of a spectacle. And keep an eye on that Ledger kid. I have a feeling he's going places.

5. Year At Danger - A year in the life of a US soldier, told by that same US soldier, in such uncensored fashion I half expected to be picked up by Homeland Security just for being in the audience.

4. Slumdog Millionaire - Belated cries of racism and accusations of unfavorable portrayals of India aside, if any movie popularizes Bollywood's style in the States, it'll be this. Danny Boyle does it again.

3. The Wrestler - A surprisingly organic offering from Darren Aronofsky, that just happens to be elevated by Mickey Rourke in one of the best performances of the year (neck and neck with Sean Penn). Plus, Marisa Tomei keeps up her recent habit of getting frequently naked.

2. Let the Right One In - Leave it to the Swedes to give the vampire genre a much-needed kick in the ass.

1. Frozen River - "Powerful" was the word most used by critics in describing this northern latitude look at smuggling illegals into the US. Hands-down one of the best movies of 2008, and almost nobody saw it.

Honorable Mentions: Man On Wire, Milk, The Order of Myths, Hellboy II, Trouble the Water, WALL*E, Encounters at the End of the World

Save Shriner's Hospital

You'll forgive me if I eschew sarcasm for a moment to talk about the impending closure of Shriner's Hospital. This story from last week's Chronicle lays out the problem:

Shriners Hospital for Children-Galveston will suspend operations to cope with a $3 billion shortfall in the Shriners International endowment fund, the organization's president said Tuesday. Shriners is also suspending reconstruction of hospitals in Los Angeles and St. Louis, Mo., said Ralph Semb, president and chief executive officer of Shriners Hospitals for Children.

Semb said the 30-bed hospital in Galveston would not be closed permanently, but that operations would be suspended and an undetermined number of its about 200 employees laid off until financial conditions improved.

"You get to a point where you just can't afford to bleed anymore," Semb said. "We don't want to close anything, but we have to be fiduciarily responsible for the future of this organization."

The economic downturn and plunge in the stock market dramatically slashed the interest payments from the endowment that supports the 22 Shriners hospitals, he said.

The market decline has shrunk the fund to about $5 billion, which is not providing the $850 million needed annually to support the hospitals, Semb said.

All Galveston hospital employees will be paid through March 31, he said.

The hospital is the only pediatric burn center for the Gulf Coast region, including Latin America. It also provides care for spinal injuries and is one of the only places in the U.S. offering clinical services for cleft lip and palates.

Semb can't expect his laid-off employess to sit around until the economy gets better. These are highly trained and experienced people who will find employment elsewhere, meaning they won't necessarily be around when/if the hospital is up and running again. None of which is any help to children requiring ongoing care after suffering what are often horrifying injuries.

There was a meeting between Semb and Shriner's employees yesterday. It apparently didn't go too well:

It was a somber day for hundreds of Shriners Hospital employees and burn patients in Galveston. Many emerged from a nearly two-hour meeting with the CEO of the hospital feeling like they have lost everything, KPRC Local 2 reported Monday.

"They don't care. I'm feeling they don't care about lives or about the kids," said an emotional Diana Salinas, who has worked as a nursing assistant at Shriners for the past two years.

Her daughter was even more upset about the hospital putting so many people out of work after it was devastated by Hurricane Ike.

"I really feel what they're doing is inhumane. They're sort of taking the easy way out, kicking you while you're down," said Cindy Lu Salinas who is a patient care coordinator.

No one with Shriners Hospital would comment, but last week hospital administrator John Swartwout said that the emergency measure was being taken because Shriners had suffered as a result of Hurricane Ike and the downturn in the economy.
[...]
Meanwhile, some young burn patients and their families are trying to plan their next move.

Shriners officials have told them they could seek treatment at their facilities in Cincinnati and other cities.

Galveston Mayor Lyda Ann Thomas is heading to Washington next week, ostensibly to discuss transportation, but also to talk with Texas Congressfolk and Senators Cornyn and Hutchinson about more funding to rebuild.

Aside from calling your elected representatives and leaving a comment, I'm sort of at a loss about what we can do. And while I may not be a big city financial expert, but supporting a place like Shriner's certainly seems like a better use of taxpayer money than funneling more TARP funds to financial institutions that continue to give bonuses to their executives and shore up their market position rather than issue loans.

"I'm afraid the forces of history have changed wrestling, perhaps forever."

I was only half-joking with The Thing That Walks Like A Man when I said we should get tickets to Wrestlemania XXV at Reliant Stadium in April, and now I'm actually regretting that we didn't:

Mickey Rourke has received critical acclaim for his comeback role in "The Wrestler," where he plays a former pro wrestling legend who falls on hard times.

And on the red carpet at the 15th Annual SAG Awards on Sunday night in Hollywood, the actor revealed he's about to get in the ring in real life.

Rourke will be participating in WWE's "Wrestlemania 25" in Houston on April 5.

"The boys from the WWE called me and asked me to do it," Rourke told Access Hollywood. "I said, 'I want to.' I'm talking with [WWE legend] Rowdy Roddy Piper about it."
[...]
And when he does jump into the ring with WWE, it appears the actor may already have his sights set on an opponent.

"Chris Jericho, you better get in shape," Rourke added. "Because I'm coming after your a**."

Whatever could that last word be? "Awl," perhaps? Is Rourke on the hunt for leatherworking accessories? Or maybe it's "art," and Jericho's collection of Holbeins is in jeopardy? If he has a private zoo, it could be "ape," or "auk."

Curse MSNBC and their nebulous verbiage.

In which I lazily imitate David Letterman

To 10 Words And/Or Female Names In Bruce Springsteen Songs

10. Sandy
9. Guitar
8. Night
7. Street
6. Wendy
5. Highway
4. Land
3. Mary
2. Road
1. Baby

Brought to you by listening to way too much E Street Radio on Sirius-XM.

Re-Joyce

I know it's next to impossible to avoid certain elements of pop culture idiocy, and I usually do a good job of filtering it. But then something like this slips under the radar:

Profanity in pop songs is old news. Hell, the chorus to Christina Aguilera's recent single, "Keeps Gettin' Better," kicks off with the phrase, "Some days I'm a super bi---." That one is easy enough for radio stations to edit out in order to avoid any fines from the FCC or threats to yank their licenses.

But what will they do with a new single from a major artist that doesn't actually contain a four-letter word, but rather spells it out in a not-so-subtle way? That dilemma is beginning to dawn on top-40 radio programmers across the country as the third single from [Britney Spears' new] album, "If U Seek Amy," starts to make its way to the airwaves.

The cheeky title (try saying it fast) joins the tradition of album titles like Van Halen's 1991 For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. The chorus doesn't even try to make grammatical sense of the phrase: "But all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to if you seek Amy."

The spelled-out profanity puts the song into a legal gray area for radio stations.

I still maintain this great nation cannot move forward into the light of hope and change and change's hopeful light until classic rock stations start bleeping "Who the fuck are you."

Van Halen? I think not, for Britney is actually riding the coattails of Canadian rock pioneers April Wine:

You heard me. Pi-O-Neers.

And everybody's just playing catch-up with James Joyce:

If you see Kay
Tell him he may
See you in tea
Tell him from me

That's all the Ulysses you need to function in modern society, anyway.

"It's a major award!" - 2009 Edition

The nominations are in, and this year's crop of hopefuls seem to represent a further disconnect not just between popular opinion (big surprise) but critical viewpoints as well (the horror).

For starters, 13 nominations for Benjamin Button? I can't see this winning anything bigger than art direction, much less running the table a la Silence of the Lambs or Chicago, but it's taking up some valuable Best Picture space.

I'm a little surprised Clint didn't get lobbed a nom for his farewell acting performance, but maybe everyone figured he'd gotten enough love in recent years. I'm...mildly surprised The Dark Knight didn't get a Best Picture nomination, but not really. AMPAS is steadfast in its general disregard for box performance, even when the ratings for the awards ceremony telecast have been in the tank for a decade. No, the big shockers for me were as follows:

- No "The Wrestler" for Best Song. I thought I'd be talking about it being a lock to win, not how it got shut out entirely. And two from Slumdog Millionaire?

- No The Wrestler for Best Picture. The first casualty of the Academy's inexplicable love affair with Button. Or maybe they were afraid of a repeat of the dread Aronofsky middle finger maneuver.

- Nada for Revolutionary Road. I guess a little American Beauty goes a long way.

- Frozen River frozen out. Okay, this wasn't really a shocker. Nobody saw it, which is a shame. I'm glad Melissa Leo's great performance was recognized, though.

Hollywood's autofellatio festival commences in a month. Here's who'll win:

Best Picture

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

Slumdog's the sentimental favorite, but the Academy isn't the Hollywood Foreign Press. All the same, it has to be considered one of the top contenders. The Reader is Holocaust Oscar bait, and Frost/Nixon is too narrowly focused. Milk, however, is the kind of movie the Academy loves.
The Winnah: Who wants to be a Millionaire? Then again, Forrest Gump won in '94, and Button is the same damn movie.

Best Actor

Richard Jenkins, The Visitor
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

It's great to see a character actor like Jenkins getting some love, but he's the longest shot here. Penn might have had a chance had he not won a few years ago. Besides, there's only one great story in this category, and it ain't Pitt's snub of Ryan Seacrest at the Golden Globes.
The Winnah: Mickey will be the second Rourke honored that night, assuming the In Memoriam segment with Ricardo Montalban airs beforehand.

And yes, I know it's spelled "Roarke."

Best Actress

Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Angelina Jolie, Changeling
Melissa Leo, Frozen River
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, The Reader

If these awards actually meant something, I'd be a lot more annoyed that Leo hasn't got a hope in hell. Streep and Jolie were solid, the latter surprisingly so, and Hathaway finally showed some decent dramatic chops.
The Winnah: In spite of all that, it'll be seven times a charm for Winslet, mostly because Sally Hawkins didn't get nominated following her Golden Globes win.

Best Supporting Actor

Josh Brolin, Milk
Robert Downey Jr., Tropic Thunder
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Michael Shannon, Revolutionary Road

Any other year, this would be a great category. Brolin continued to impress, Downey Jr. pulled off what I thought would be the Mother of All Bad Ideas, and Shannon - another great character actor - stood out (and that's without Colin Farrell getting a sniff). And none of it will matter.
The Winnah: Rumor is that gambling sites won't even be letting people take bets on Ledger, and the odds could open at 1-10.

Best Supporting Actress

Amy Adams, Doubt
Penélope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler

Finally, a challenging category. Early buzz is for Cruz and Davis, with the latter likely to be the only person honored from the Doubt cast, or will Adams split the vote?
The Winnah: Cruz, which will have the deleterious effect of encouraging Woody Allen to keep making movies.

Best Director

Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
Stephen Daldry, The Reader
David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
Gus Van Sant, Milk

It doesn't always happen, but this year each of the Best Pictures is represented 1:1 here. Meaning Boyle should come away with it, though Fincher or Van Sant could make some noise later.
The Winnah: Boyle, and we can all pretend it was for 28 Days Later.

Best Original Screenplay

Courtney Hunt Frozen River
Mike Leigh Happy-Go-Lucky
Martin McDonagh In Bruges
Dustin Lance Black Milk
Andrew Stanton, Pete Docter Wall E

The screenplay categories are traditionally where the Academy feels like it can loosen up (and I like how there's maybe 30 minutes of dialogue in Wall*E and it still got nominated). I'd be happy with either Hunt or McDonagh.
The Winnah: Which means Leigh's going to win it.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Eric Roth, Robin Swicord, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
John Patrick Shanley, Doubt
Peter Morgan, Frost/Nixon
David Hare, The Reader
Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire

Please not Benjamin Button. Please not Benjamin Button. Please not Benjamin Button.
The Winnah: Beaufoy, because I don't want Ricky Gervais to be 100% right about Holocaust movies and transcribing interviews is just lazy. Step it up, Morgan!

Picture of the day

From this Chronicle story about Obama suspending war crimes trials at Gitmo:

For my next trick, I will attempt to imitiate the commenters on the Chron web site without actually reading them first.

KillEmALL76 wrote:
now the muslins have a freind in the white house

LEAGUECITYBUBBA wrote:
Here's your CHANGE, libs! Maybe now these TERRORISTS will strap on their BOMBS and go to WASHINGTON!!!!

MightIsRight wrote:
....we have familys starving here in America and Husein would rather give Al Qeda a pardon.......

Sprinkled here and there with the odd person trying to explain rule of law and habeus corpus before giving up in disgust.

Duff be not proud

For a variety of work and daughter-related circumstances, I found myself at home watching the bulk of the Inauguration today. Part of me tried to maintain a detached demeanor while hearing about how we're going to: fix the economy/defeat our enemies/unite the country...while the other part of me couldn't peel the grin off his face watching the rough beast who's run our country into the ground for eight years, his hour come round at last, slouch off to Midland to be forgotten.

I'm not proud of this, but as Bush was boarding the helicopter that would whisk him and Laura off the oblivion, I mooned the TV. She Who Shall Not Be Named was nowhere around, I assure you. And I didn't even slap my cheeks.

Much.

I appreciated Obama's shout out to the "unbelievers," and that he actually mentioned science in his speech, and there was mention of sacrifice - something distinctly lacking in seven years of jingoistic bullshit and yellow ribbon stickers - and the fact that for the first time since...oh, 2002 or so I don't have to cough behind my hand when I'm overseas and someone asks me where I'm from. I hope he doesn't screw it up, and I hope we give him a chance to do something before piling on him.

Not that I'm very hopeful about that last part.

"It's exactly like Gump...except no AIDS."

from the number of people who've sent me this, it appears I wasn't alone in noticing the similarities. And not having seen Forrest Gump since 1994, I missed a lot of these.

The best part is it's probably going to be nominated for Best Picture.

"Let me give you my hairpiece."

Say it with a Middle Eastern space accent.

I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. But despite juvenile assholery and a few barely dodged felonies, I seem to have acquired a group of undeservedly good friends. To wit:

1. Everybody who wished me well on the occasion of and/or came to my 40th birthday party. Especially TheDave, peenman, and seadogs, who flew in from both coasts to drink way too much with me for a weekend. I've known these guys for a combined total of 65 years, and I felt every minute of it on Monday.

2. Whichever one of you (and I have an idea) who read between the lines of my entry about Ike losses and realized how much I missed my Terminator poster. The replacement came in the mail about a week ago, and will have a place of honor in my new "man space," which at this rate will be the crawl space over the garage.

3. On a similar note, I can't thank my fellow Film Threat Aggravation Engineer Don enough for sending me a pair of what are arguably the baddest-ass shoes I've ever owned:

I won't be wearing these to pick up She Who Shall Not Be Named from school, but in any event...eat your heart out, Joni.

4. All of you who've sat through my endless Simpsons references and rants about, in no particular order, Wayne Dolcefino, the NLCS, movie audiences, Bush, The Wire, Ike, airline food, and how black people talk like this, but white people talk like this.

You people are all right. But don't worry; I'll be back to haranguing you for your terrible taste in...well, everything in a day or so.

So...

I guess there aren't going to be a lot of laughs on Battlestar Galactica this season.

And a one, and a two

I love
Waking up at two
Elbow deep in poo
Diapers without end
And twins:

Look at them there...mocking me.

So we're at the doctor's getting the first ultrasound a little over a month ago, and two of these sacs of impending bankruptcy kept showing up on the screen, almost like mirror images. I'm thinking I'm seeing some sort of electronic echo, so - innocently enough - I ask the guy why it "looks like" there are two of them. He looks at me like I'm the biggest fucking idiot to trod the earth and says, "Because you're having twins."

The first trimester is officially over, She Who Shall Not Be Named gets a couple of siblings of as-yet-undetermined gender in July, and yours truly is quaffing vodka (I'm drinking for three) and wondering how he's going to cram five people into an (almost repaired) 1600 square foot house.

I hear the Woodlands are nice.

EDIT: Thanks for the suggestions, but if I didn't take your advice when naming my freaking cat, why would I let you yahoos name my kids?

Chuck's long-ago suggestion of "Snake Plissken Vonder Haar" is the only one I've ever really lobbied for anyway.

EDIT 2: I live in Garden Oaks now, Seal. If you can find me a 4-5 bedroom of greater than 2000 sq ft for under $400,000 in Oak Forest (or GO, for that matter), I'm listening.

Golden Bozos

I considered liveblogging last night's Golden Globes ceremony, but we had company over and besides, my hands are woefully incapable of keeping pace with the nigh unending stream of assholery thought up during the annual drunken wank-a-rama. This year the whole thing seemed designed solely to allow the Hollywood Foreign Press to cruelly dangle the possibility of a Best Picture Oscar in front of the well-meaning but otherwise SOL folks behind Slumdog Millionaire.

And I say this as someone who liked Slumdog Millionaire.

In any event, it was apparent early on that everyone involved - from the camera folk to the celebrities themselves - were taking the "Globes" part of the ceremony especially seriously. Stars ranging from Eva Longoria to Eva Mendes were impressively crammed into their bodices, and I haven't seen that much Salma Hayek on display since Desperado.

Some other thoughts...

+ As a Bruce fan, I was happy to see "The Wrestler" win best song. And I'm sure NBC was pleased to get some free publicity for the upcoming E Street Band performance at the Super Bowl.

+ The Jonas Brothers were apparently there to snag the 30-something white female demographic, going by comments made by The Wife and our other female guest.

+ Keifer Sutherland's resigned expression best represented the futility felt by anybody nominated in any category that John Adams was up for.

+ Ricky Gervais wins the internet ceremony. I like how everyone laughed at his Holocaust movie joke yet the same crowd was tres offended by Sacha Baron Cohen's Madonna-Guy Ritchie zinger. I guess "personal assistant" barbs hit a little close to home.

+ If I ever get to interview Tom Hanks, my first two questions will be: "Tom, will there be a sequel to Mazes and Monsters?" and "How do you respond to critics - specifically me - who feel the quality of your performances significantly deteriorated following Bachelor Party and Joe vs. the Volcano?"

+ I know William L. Petersen. William L. Petersen was great in To Live and Die in L.A. and Manhunter and even C.S.I. Laurence Fishburne, you are no William L. Petersen. And get a tailor.

+ As someone baffled by the pre-release praise lavished on The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I am perversely satisfied that it failed to win a goddamned thing. Don't believe the hype.

+ Anne Hathaway is losing too much weight, which is probably endangering that Devil Wears Prada sequel.

+ People that should have been played off the stage: Sally Hawkins (though I thought her performance in Happy Go-Lucky was good, even if the movie wasn't my cup of tean), Steven Spielberg (as if that would ever happen), and Colin Farrell (you were a lot more entertaining as a drunk, and Gleeson should've won)

+ People that shouldn't have: Mickey Rourke. Sean Penn can probably sit out the Oscars as well.

+ While I appreciate the...talents of Megan Fox and Isla Fisher, my old ass would be happy with Laura Linney, Marisa Tomei, or Emma Thompson any day.

+ And then there's Mad Men's Christina Hendricks. Ay chihuahua:

Rule 34 revisited

Without actually looking for it, I'm pretty certain that slash fiction involving Erin Esurance and Flo (the brunette from the Progressive Insurance commercials) exists. I just don't think I have the intestinal fortitude to actually Google it.

The...Blurst of Times - 2008

So I was contacted about a week ago by one of Hef's people, and he asked me if I ever did any modeling. Now I could point out a couple dozen things I'd change about my body, and so would you if you saw me naked, but they were insistent, so look for me in February's Playboy.

Okay, so it was really a guy from New York Magazine, and he actually just wanted my year-end "10 Worst" list. So here's the entry.

For those of you too lazy to click on the link, here's my list, minus the blatantly-poached-from-the-actual-reviews comments (it's alphabetical, so look for me between Sara Vilkomerson of the New York Observer and Armond White of the New York Press, who's apparently going for Edgy Asshole of the Year by naming Slumdog Millionaire, The Dark Knight, and Wall-E as his three worst). I'll point out that I don't see as many movies as I used to, so some worthy contenders (Beverly Hills Chihuahua, Seven Pounds) are missing.

1. Fool's Gold
2. Vantage Point
3. Drillbit Taylor
4. Street Kings
5. 88 Minutes
6. What Happens in Vegas...
7. You Don't Mess With the Zohan
8. Twilight
9. Marley & Me
10. Sex and the City

I may have been bolstering my own asshole quotient by including SatC, but there's no such thing as bad publicity.

Incontrovertible and Hermetic Rules of Modern Life, #82

If Shannon Tweed is one of the actors toplining a (most likely) straight to video movie, she will be in lingerie on the box cover art.

To wit, Power Play, which combines the equally awesome visual elements of underwear and firearms:

"Wait 'til next year"

AKA "Ohio State's Lament."

Any landing you walk away from, as they say. That was a lot closer then I think anybody was comfortable with, and my newly middle-aged ass is deeply resentful somebody didn't put the game away by halftime so I could go to bed at a respectable hour. Things bounced Texas' way, however, and though USC and *cough* Utah all looked better in their games, UT's now 3-0 in BCS bowls.

OSU, on the other hand.

All that's left is the title game. I can't decide if I should show conference solidarity and root for OU or point and laugh while Tebow and the Gators stomp a mudhole in Chokelahoma's heart.

"Don't you hate pants?"

Well you won't hate these, brought to you by Derek, friend of a friend. Why are they better than your run of the mill trousers? Because they're from the goddamn future:

If there's a more ringing voice of endorsement than Neil Diamond's, I can almost guarantee they'd also be pimping Future Pants.

Promise her everything
But give her zucchini

There was a commercial on TV tonight for some microwavable quiche...things. The theme was "having happy hour at home," and the commercial concludes with the young husband and wife sitting down to a plate of appetizers and a couple glasses of wine. Predictably, I'm unable to keep my mouth shut.

Me: Treat your wife like a random bar skank, just like the first night you met.
The Wife: I'm ignoring you.
Me: Experience the thrill of withholding your HIV infection from her all over again.
The Wife: Jesus, the shit that goes through your head.

I never got to describe the end of the scenario, where all his friends are hiding in the closet and under the bed while they get it on.

No sex please, we're Houstonians

Blowing the lid off nookie, indeed:

The city of Houston claimed a significant victory Wednesday in its effort to stamp out strip clubs and pornographic boutiques that have set up shop too close to neighborhoods.

A state district judge ruled in favor of the city's attempt to permanently shut down The Penthouse Club, 2618 Winrock, and ordered an owner of the establishment to pay $42,000 in legal fees.

"This is a good day for Houstonians that want to protect the decency of our neighborhoods for families, and also want to say no to those businesses that degrade and exploit women for profit," said Mayor Bill White.

"This has been a long battle."

The case was a major test of a new front in Houston's long-running battle to enforce its "sexually-oriented business" ordinance, which has withstood multiple challenges that finally held up under the scrutiny of the U.S. Supreme Court.

The law, which requires such companies to operate at least 1,500 feet from schools, day care centers, parks and churches, has been flouted by strip clubs and porn shops since City Council adopted it in 1997.

But with The Penthouse Club, the city tried a new tack: suing to shutter the business under the city's nuisance laws. Now, the city intends to file a massive lawsuit this month using similar measures to close 30 to 40 of the businesses at once.

I applaud Mayor White in his strenuous campaign to stamp out blue balls and overpriced domestic beer in our fair city. And since he seems so keen on "nuisances," I eagerly await similarly swift action against the church that tolls me out of bed every Sunday morning, the high school whose stadium PA echoes into the next county, the pawn shop with the 50-foot high scrolling neon marquee that looms over my backyard, and the drive-thru ATM beeping incessantly as it provides the random drunk with cash for his 2 AM post-SRO Whataburger run.

Patrick Zummo, a private attorney who represented the city in the matter, said the the case against the clubs, bookstores and massage parlors could take as little as a year to get to trial, far shorter than the previous cases that have been mired in legal wrangling.

"We hope a New Year's resolution will be that these businesses won't allow crime at their locations anymore," Zummo said.
[...]
"We have supported this action in the city in its fight the whole way," said Bart Jones, president of the Briargrove neighborhood association.

"My rule of thumb has been if I can't walk my child in the direction of your business, maybe your business shouldn't be in the area where I raise my child."

You know, I was all set to point out to Zummo that apparently blow jobs and coke in the VIP room are more deserving of expensive city lawsuits than the weekly murders committed at those run-down, windowless bars I drive by every day. Moreso, I was fully prepared to call Jones a self-righteous douchebag who selectively excluded the neighborhood liquor stores and gun re-sellers in describing his Danger Gauntlet, but something happened this weekend and now, like Nick Nolte in 48 Hours, I support their efforts 100%.

Let me back up. There's this Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood called Juanita's that sits next to Solid Platinum, a strip club (note, the preciousness of the metal/gem mentioned in the club's name is often inversely proportional to the tastefulness of the club itself...see also The Gold Cup). We eat at Juanita's occasionally because they have really good cheese enchiladas, and until recently never had any trouble with the...denizens next door.

Last Saturday, however, the horrible agenda of these fishnet-clad fifth columnists was laid bare. The Wife and I were walking into Juanita's with She Who Shall Not Be Named when out of the club's doors burst a group of scantily clad women, brandishing weighted nets, spears, and a Dora the Explorer jam box blaring "Pour Some Sugar On Me." Shouldering past us, they quickly snared SWSNBN before either of us could react. The "exotic dancers" were halfway back to Solid Platinum, already sizing my daughter up with a 5T T-back so she could join their growing legion of toddler strippers, when The Wife, coming to her senses faster than me, single-handedly incapacitated them (I'd already fallen victim to those same sex worker wiles that have brought other men, mightier than myself, so very low). We hightailed it out of there, vowing to fight these cesspools wherever we might find them.

In short, I fully support Mayor White in his - dare I say - crusade to rid Houston of exposed naughty bits that is in no way a cynical ploy to appease the deep-pocketed finger waggers that will be greasing the wheels of his Senatorial campaign.

Incontrovertible and Hermetic Rules of Modern Life, #477

Any place selling used books - be it devoted wholly to that purpose, a garage sale, or thrift store - will have a hardback copy of James Clavell's Nobel House available for purchase.