FEBRUARY 2002 ARCHIVE

"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others." --- Oscar Wilde

BITE ME

Queen of the Damned opens at number one and while this isn't a good movie, it's a good vampire movie and if you don't understand that, then you obviously haven't seen enough vampire movies. There's a totally different criteria involved. It's gotta be something you'd like to watch on TV at midnight on a Friday or Saturday night with friends. A big, cheeseburger of a movie. Also, it must be sexy, stylish and have good vampire death scene at the end. This is the standard set by the Hammer Dracula movies of the 60's. Queen of the Damned meets this standard (but with an inexcusable lack of nudity, given its "R" rating), Dracula 2000 almost did and you fucking geeks only wish that Bram Stoker's Dracula did (Coppola failed, and you fuckers can bite me---no pun intended). It's not art, but I enjoyed it and was never bored. In the early months of the year, that's kind of an accomplishment. Aaliyah is barely in it, by the way, so if you were squeamish about that little factor, you can relax. And Stuart Townsend makes a much better Lestat than Tom Cruise ever did. Hell, I even liked the soundtrack, which sounds like leftovers from Trent Reznor's last recording session.

OLDIE BUT A GOODIE

John Q is down to number two and it's been awhile since I've brought up my pet peeve of middle-aged actors with younger actresses, so lets drag it up now. Denzel is no less than 15 years older than actress Kimberly Elise, who plays his wife in this movie. No offense to her, but when are we going to get that Denzel Washington/Angela Basset hook-up we've all be waiting for? Oh, that's right, Angela Basset is his age, so he can't possibly make a movie with her. In the meantime, he's doing major motion pictures (even if they are crap like this) while she's reduced to freaking TV bio-pics (The Rosa Parks Story, which was on last night), which will run once during Black History Month and never be seen again.

AND YOU'RE FLOUNDER. WHY? WHY NOT!?!

Dragonfly opens at number three as Kevin Costner attempts to hop on the Bruce Willis career-saving bandwagon of dipping into the metaphysical. Isn't weird how the way Bruce Willis so obviously looks like a frat boy asshole is different from how Kevin Costner so obviously looks like a frat boy asshole? Basically, if Hollywood were Animal House, Costner would be Greg Marmalade and Bruce Willis would be, well, Bluto (George Clooney would obviously be Otter, the rest you can do on your own).

COMING SOON ARISTOCATS II: THE SPADING

Return To Neverland is down only one notch to number three, bringing us hideously closer to an Oliver & Company sequel than we'd ever dare imagine.

BESIDES, IT'S NOT CALLED CHASTITY IN THE CITY

Crossroads is down to number five, though at just about $34M, it qualifies as a success for Ms. Spears. Sorry to disappoint you all, but the rumors of her being on Sex & The City next season as Kim Catrall's niece are just that---rumors.

ETC.,

Big Fat Liar is down to number six followed by A Beautiful Mind at number seven and Hart's War at number eight.

EARNING THE WONDER WOMAN NAME

Super Troopers holds at number nine and at a $3M cost to Fox, it may be the most successful film on this list. By the way, did I mention the bear-fucking scene? I did? Well, what about a guest appearance by Lynda Carter (a.k.a. Linda Cordoba), looking exactly as she did 25 fucking years ago. It's scary. Obviously, she's on that Matt Dillon plan of never aging. Sorry, but she always did and still does put Lucy Lawless to shame (check it here). Xena was never 38-25-35. Lawd have mercy! Sing it with me, children! "She's a brick'house/She's mighty mighty/Just lettin' it all hang out'"

IT'S A NOT SO WONDERFUL CAREER ANYMORE

Finally, Collateral Damage is down to number ten and every time a major Hollywood asshole falls from grace an angel gets his wings. That's two and half angels flying from this top ten alone (every time Bruce Willis fails he finds something to pull his sorry ass up again).

BOOBIES, BOOBIES AND MORE BOOBIES. OLYMPICS? WHERE?

The Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue came out again and again, I'm unimpressed by it all. In fact, what I do like about it is all the hoopla they create every year as if this were really something. Excuse me, but every magazine in the world has a half-naked model on the cover, but yet they still manage to make this once a year deal seem special. I've got nothing against hard-bellied women with full breasts (my attitude is that at least one person in bed should have a flat stomach and since it's obviously not going to be me') but the thing about even models like that, is they are otherwise unimpressive. Yeah, they've got breasts, but are otherwise flat-assed and hipless, hardly a feminine ideal (Laetitia Casta, being the exception to this rule). Heidi Klum is knocked-kneed and not that pretty, but because she's a stick with tits, she's suddenly hot; Molly Sims is just boring and Audrey Quock is just fucking ugly (never doubt the power of Asian-obsessed white boys). The rest I don't even know, they're so lackluster. Sigh. The glory days of the supermodel obsessed 80's are long over, kids. Cindy is somebody's mom, Christy is marrying a doofus from Long Island and Naomi is being humiliated in the British courts on a daily basis.

AT 250 I'LL GIVE MYSELF A MEDAL

After denying myself DVD's for the last two months, I decided I deserved a treat and bought myself Storm Riders on DVD (bringing us up to 228, not counting the porn). I don't know if I've mentioned Storm Riders before, but even if I had, tough---we're going to discuss it again. It's a Chinese martial arts film based on a comic book made about five years ago. I caught it on cable first, then learned a ton had been cut out of the dubbed American version---like how one of the characters somehow regains an arm after tearing it off himself (it's a great scene, by the way). If you want to see just how lame American comic book movies are, see this movie. It's everything The X-Men should have been, but wasn't. These guys fly, throw energy from their fingertips, use their own blood as a weapon, fight the flaming monster that killed dad and still have time for scenes of romance and dramatic introspection. But it's superhero dramatic introspection, so brooding must be done while sitting on the roof, while your cape flutters in the wind. Of course, the bad thing about buying even one DVD is that it makes you want more. But I must be strong because I have other bad habits now.

IT'S ELECTRIC---BUT NO SLIDING!

Speaking of other bad habits, my guitar lessons have taken yet another turn with the introduction of electricity. Now, I've had an electric guitar (Fender Squire Bullet) since Christmas, but hadn't gotten an amp because I didn't want to be killed by my neighbors or my roommate. But then my teacher decided that we were going to give the acoustic a rest and crank it up. Exactly on week later, there I am buying an amp. It's a small Ibanez, but it's enough for me to start trouble. Oh yes, boys and girls, I have access to my rooftop. This means I'm going to let it be where the streets have no name. Look for me on news when the cops beat me down because I won't stop my sorry guitar playing, which is screwing up traffic in Hell's Kitchen. But now I need another electric guitar. See, the one I have right now has no whammy bar (or place for one), which means I can't play Chris Isaak songs the way they're meant to (now that we're electric, we're going to give George Michael and Rod Stewart a break), and Van Halen is calling my name.

WELL RESTED TO SAY THE LEAST

So apparently I've evolved into some sort of sedative for my tense friends. Wild Child came over dinner again this weekend and was once again doing her impression of Rip Van Winkle right afterwards (in the middle of Storm Riders, no less). I suppose it's a compliment that someone who normally has trouble sleeping is comfortable enough to do this constantly in your presence, but your activities in your home are severely limited when someone is sleeping in your bed. And now that I have an amp, it's especially painful for me. Sorry, but as the song goes, "We were rocking into the night/Rocking into the night'."

RETURN OF THE KING

The great hair experiments of 2002 are over. My head is once again shaven and my face is clean. Despite the compliments and encouragements, it just wasn't me, kids. Besides, with that growing bush, and facial hair (though wussy facial hair), every time put on my black leather jacket I started to look like some low-budget Shaft. "Who's the Black angry geek that's ?just a good friend' to all the chicks'."

IT COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE; IT COULD HAVE BEEN MUSICAL THEATER

So I was manipulated into seeing theater. Well, to be honest, it was the only way anyone could ever get me to go. Outside of my roommate's work, you won't see me near the boards. My friend knew this and made it seem like she was having some sort of emotional crisis. Since she was there for me during the Otter Crisis (and don't think she didn't bring that up), I had to go. But rather than providing someone with a shoulder to cry on, I found myself at a play about newly minted feminist icon, Artemensia. In case you don't know, Artemensia is the hot new pissed-off girl icon, not simply because she was a famous successful painter at a time in history when there were none, but because she did it after being raped and suffering injustice at the hands of the Italian courts (her rapist got only a few months and continued to work with her father afterwards). Her work is currently being shown at the Met and if you like Caravaggio, you'll like her. Providing you can get through the throngs of angry girl artists who are obviously there. The play was actually good, alternating between Artemensia as an adult dealing with her own daughter and Artemensia as a teen at the time of the rape. One thing I will never, ever get used to is nudity on stage. With the exception of the actress who played the adult Artemensia, every single actress is naked onstage, sometimes totally. It simply unnerves me. See, I'm a geek at heart and can never shake the basic belief that girls are icky. Icky, icky, icky. Also, I think I'm still traumatized by the time my roommate stripped down onstage (though not nude) without warning me it was coming.

HER OTHER BROTHERS? ALVIN AND THEODORE.

I finally got around to seeing Janet Jackson in concert on HBO. Why doesn't she just get nekkid and call it a day? I mean, first she's topless in the intro, then we get a camera backstage during costume changes, placed oh-so-carefully avoid showing us too much. Then what's the freaking point!?! Still, she looks good. It's two hours of tight, revealing costumes, occasional sexual innuendo and sweaty, sweaty abs. I'd recommend turning off the sound, throwing Design of a Decade in the CD player and just watching it, because when her reed-thin, chipmunk whisper of a voice pops through, it's quite annoying. And this whole whispery shy crap she keeps pulling on interviews is annoying me too. Lady, you got your clitoris pierced! Every time you cross your legs it's le petit morte. Give "I'm shy" a rest already.

SO FUNNY I FORGOT TO LAUGH

I also watched Jamie Foxx in concert and is there anything fucking sadder than HBO using this as an example of their regard for Black History Month. First of all, not only is he incredibly unfunny, but he starts off with an incredibly racist routine about Arabs, referring to them all as "Taliban." I'm sure Dr. King would be proud. At least those unfunny jokes were original. He then goes into a routine about being in Africa, totally ripping off Richard Pryor, who covered this ground over 25 years ago. Only he was funny when he did it.

AS SOON AS I CATCH MY BREATH, YOUR ASS IS MINE!

Is there anything funnier than that goddamn biker brawl that took place when "The Pagans" crashed a motorcycle/tattoo show held by The Hell's Angels? What gets me is that every biker I've ever seen is an old fat guy. Never anyone young or in good shape. Say what you want about comic book geeks and science fiction geeks and their fanatical devotion to crap that doesn't exist, at least we don't take it to the point of stabbing people.

IT'S NOT FUNNY

There is no joy left in the world. Chuck Jones is dead. The man who was truly behind Bugs Bunny and the best of the Warner Brothers cartoons is gone. I must weep.

2/19/2002

"He wrapped himself in quotations---as a beggar would enfold himself in the purple of emperors." --- Rudyard Kipling

IF IT MAKES ENOUGH MONEY, WILL THERE BE A JOHN R?

Much to the surprise of every human alive, John Q opens in the number one slot. Why anyone would want to see this tripe is beyond me. A criticism of US health care is hardly novel and dressing it up in a hostage drama is just stupid. Am I really supposed to feel sorry for a man who threatens other innocent lives in order to defend one innocent life? Excuse me, but doesn't he immediately cease to be a victim at that point? If nothing else, its success will aid Denzel in the Oscar race, since Training Day left the theaters an eternity ago. And it wasn't that great.

WAIT, WHERE'S RALPH MACCHIO?

Crossroads opens at number two and at a cost of only $12M, is well on its way to being a success for little Ms. Spears (Mariah, put that razor down'). No, I didn't see it. Did you actually think I'd be caught dead in Crossroads? Since I can't drink like I used to (like I never could), my only possible entry route has been closed off. Besides, I'm sure they were arresting every single man over the age of 21 who walked into the theater. While I'm sure this is a piece of crap, let me say this one thing in Britney Spears's defense: who the fuck doesn't dance around in their underwear singing? Especially as a kid. Every review I've read brings this up as a criticism, as if it's unrealistic and just added for exploitation. This is just like when Jennifer Lopez was criticized for a scene in The Cell when she's at home getting stoned and raiding the fridge, because she was also in her underwear. I'm sorry, what do you fucking people wear at home alone? Ball gowns? Tuxes? I myself used to do the whole Xanadu soundtrack in just my'uh, let's forget I said anything, okay?

COMING SOON: PINOCCHIO II: FEEL THE WOOD

Disney's evil ways continue to be rewarded as they rape their past for more revenue today. Return To Neverland, which should have gone direct to video like all their other "evil sequels" opens at number three, which means they may now send all their "evil sequels" to the big screen. Not that the original was all that great in my eyes. The Lady & The Tramp not withstanding (as well as that first Rescuers movie), Disney's prime animation period ended in the 40's. What's most notable about it is how sexualized the women are in the movie. Tiger Lily and more importantly, Tinkerbell, who was not based on Marilyn Monroe, as the legend goes, but a model named Margaret Kerry (the breasts were too small for Monroe). I'm curious to see if they kept up her "proportions" for the sequel or chose a new body type. Jennifer Lopez, maybe? Nah. Those little wings couldn't get that ass off the ground.

HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN

Big Fat Liar is down to number four, followed by Collateral Damage at number five, and do you think Frankie Muniz will spot Arnold at Spago's and yell out, "Hey, old man! You're my bitch now! Yeah, Nazi boy! I'm talking to you!"

BUT WILL ANDY GRIFFITH BE THERE?

A Beautiful Mind actually rises a notch to number six aided by the Academy Award nominations. Get ready for this puppy to sweep. Opie's been around for a long time and finally made a good movie and everyone likes him---except for Dr. Suess, who's still rolling in his grave over that film version of How The Grinch Stole Christmas.

AND STARRING WHAT'S HIS NAME

Hart's War is down to number nine and Colin Farrell joins Hugh Jackman as yet another Hot New Thing totally wasting his brief celebrity currency on bad movies with falling big stars. Terrence Howard, who totally stole The Best Man from Taye Diggs is also in this, but for a minority actor any big movie not playing a crook or cop or wiseass best friend is a good thing.

DOWN IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE

Black Hawk Down is down to number eight and even at almost $100M this film is still a bit of a failure because it cost $100M to make. And can I tell you how any Academy Award nominations for a Jerry Bruckheimer film makes my skin crawl?

MEL BROOKS WHERE ART THOU?

Super Troopers actually opens in the top ten and I have to say I enjoyed this dumb movie. Made by the improv troupe, Flying Lizard, it proves you can still make a good, raunchy movie above the level of American Pie (ooh, look, he drank cum. ha. ha. ha.). I still can't think about the bear fucking scene and not laugh. Yes, there is a joke in this movie about a man fucking a bear. Watching him fuck the bear is even funnier.

HALLE BERRY IN BEACH CATS! WILL SMITH IN SURF PARROTS!

Finally, Snow Dogs takes its leave of us and closes out the top ten at number ten. Pay attention, Halle and Will. This is a Black actor who actually won an Academy Award. Look at him now. We can't all be Denzel.

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

It's official. The last of my male friends (I only have about five) is getting married. I am truly The Last Man Standing. Ironically, I was the only one who seemingly wanted the domestic plan when younger. Even all my wacky female friends have somewhat settled down. In fact, overall, I've become the "middle aged single friend" that all couples have. In a movie, I'd either be the comic relief (complete with bad dating and therapy jokes) or I'd be the comic relief who also gets killed because I was using their apartment for a date when the bad guys came for them. Oh, I'd be avenged, but I wouldn't be around for the sequel (though my supporting role would get the best critical response).

WHY MARRIAGE IS IMPORTANT

So, I'm having dinner with Young Married Father after seeing his son (Young Married Mother and child then went to Brooklyn to show the baby where he should never live) and we're treated to a show with our dinner. Middle-Aged Black man trying to pick up on the White girls sitting a table away from his. Oh, he gave the sistas a token (no pun intended) glance, but he then sat next to Mista Charley's Woman. But it wasn't the "jungle fever" that made it so distasteful (interracial love is a beautiful thing in the eyes of this Irish named Black man who wouldn't be here without it). No, it was the sad pursuit of young pussy by an old man. I made to Young Married Father promise to kill me before ever letting me become that---as he joked that I probably would.

THE BASTARD WHO STARTED THIS ALL DESERVED TO DIE

It goes without saying that I hate Valentine's Day. It's right up there with New Year's Eve and being designed to make you miserable if you're not overwhelmingly excited and happy (which is why we had a murder suicide and some guy sending his ex one of his fingers). In any case, I decided to commiserate with The Lunatic, she who comes closest to being a female version of myself. When she hadn't turned up at the restaurant after twenty minutes, I began to get a little annoyed, even thought I thought it would be funny has hell to be stood up by a non-date on Valentine's Day. She eventually showed and we had nice dinner (though the seafood pasta I had came back for me the next day). However, I'd decided for some odd reason to send flowers to someone else (don't ask; it's too long a story and I've got a therapist for that). When I'd oddly received not even a "Thank you" by the end of the day, I decided to track the order to see what had happened. Had I truly been that dissed? No. An order I'd placed a week earlier had failed to be delivered. On Valentine's Day. How the fuck does a florist fuck up Valentine's Day!?! You gotta figure it's only second to Mother's Day in turns of revenue generated, so it's pretty important that this be one day they not fuck up. But still they did. On me. The killer was the guarantee that it would definitely be there before 10:00am on the 15th. Who gives a fuck about the 15th!?! That's ultimate in humiliation. Not only do I look like some loser who forgot, but also she's the loser getting flowers a day late! So I canceled the order and got my money back, but I've sworn an oath of bloody vengeance against 1800flowers.com. They will bow down before me. This I swear. No matter if it takes an eternity. They will bow down before me. Both them and one day, their heirs!

WHEN HE TEACHES ME "BAD COMPANY" IT'LL BE APPROPRIATE

So, my job has produced a partner in crime for some of my worst impulses. The guy I share my office with, not only encourages me to buy needless, new computer toys ("Get the iPod. You know you want it," is his mantra), but he also happens to be a musician, and is delighted with my choice of guitar lessons. I really made Bad Influence's day when I bought a new guitar and had it delivered to the office (in case the idea of guitars as phallic symbolism is lost on you, it's big and black). This gives me a total of three, so I've decided to keep my old one in the office, where I practice during lunch---with my free tutor sitting right in front of me. Bad Influence is very enthusiastic when I'm trying to learn classic rock ("Maggie Mae" is surprisingly easy, just don't ask for that solo), but he gives me weird looks as I try to master "Father Figure" and "Careless Whisper." He then quickly takes the guitar from me and launches into some Van Halen. He's gonna be thrilled to know that I spent the long weekend learning "Different Corner."

IF I WANTED THIS SHIT, I'D HANG OUT WITH MEN

So, to repay the WildChild for a hundred dollar bar tab we ran up on Tuesday (actually more, but I got the second round), she came over and I made dinner on Saturday night. I'm becoming a little more confident in my cooking skills, but even I was unprepared for what happened next. After yet another round of ginger ale pork chops (I'm sick of this dish now), garlic mashed potatoes (I did it right this time) and chocolate cake from The Little Pie Company, she proceeded to sleep for the next ten hours. Now, she's stayed over before, so that's not a problem, but when I have dinner with someone I haven't spoken to in over two years, I'm looking forward to a little conversation. Now I've got this freaking corpse in my bed. Heavy sigh. Once again, a female friend has forced me into the woman's role. I want to talk and all she wants is to get some sleep after a meal. I suppose I should consider myself lucky she didn't top it off by farting all night long. The worst part was, I couldn't sleep (I can't sleep with people in my bed as a rule---something my therapist is going to love hearing), but couldn't engage in my new nighttime habit of guitar practice because she was there. Next time, her ass is going home.

LIVE AND LET DRINK

The Englishwoman returned from her three month sabbatical in India and I made good on my promise to buy her a drink if she returned from the war zone alive. Granted, she was far from any type of trouble (I think the closest she came was a run on Stoli at the beach), but it was still a peculiar vacation choice. One day I'll understand the English fascination with countries that kicked them out. In any case, she picked a dive bar downtown frequented by fireman, so I was feeling extra-inadequate. Our conversation, however, was regularly interrupted by the blonde bartender who kept flashing her customers at their request. One moment I'm engaged in conversation about how the rest of the world sees us and the next thing I know, I see bare breasts out of the corner of my eye. Strangely, I lost all train of thought at that moment. Wait. What was I talking about again?

BET HE'S GOT A COLLECTION OF REALLY BIG GUNS TOO

I've got some bad news for you literary groupies. Sebastian Junger was on The Daily Show and he was eye-to-eye with John Stewart. Yes, the chiseled-featured, macho writer is no more than 5'6". Like all us itty-bitty types, he's compensating for height with something else. In his case, it's writing about dangerous areas of the world. Me, I just try being meaner than a guy taller than me---and I think I'm succeeding.

BUT LIKE A NEW YORKER, I PRETENDED TO IGNORE THEM

Walking to my various weekend musical lessons on the upper West Side (my singing workshop just ended on Sunday and shut up) has provided all my recent celeb sightings. John Glover, who is a great actor and has done many good roles, but will most likely be best known for his current role as Lex Luthor's father on Smallville , was walking down 8th Avenue Saturday afternoon. Minutes later and six blocks up, I see Kevin Bacon, no doubt headed to the matinee of his Broadway show. Robert Duvall I saw on Central Park West and he is my height, if not shorter.

DIRTY MAGAZINES

My hatred for Stuff Magazine grows by leaps and bounds every month. First, I'm forced to buy it last month because of Leah Rhemini on the cover and now I'm forced to buy it this month because Sheryl Crow is on the cover, dropping trou to try and sell her new album. What's funniest about the interview and layout isn't that she's got her ass cheeks hanging out or that she criticizes Britney and Christina for being too slutty, too soon (Sheryl's 40, so she's earned it). What's funny is how much goddamn airbrushing went on. My god, I've seen mahogany desks that weren't as smooth as they make her skin out to be, and you know it isn't. First she's been a musician all her life, so you know the living's been pretty damn hard. Second, she's been a drunk. I was at an MTV Party a few years ago and her friends were literally carrying her drunk ass out---and it was only 6:00pm. You can probably figure out her age by counting her wrinkles around her eyes like rings on a sequoia. Also, all the poses are pure JLo.

CLEAN MAGAZINES

How happy was I to see Debra Messing on cover of In Style in my mailbox (yeah, I have a subscription to In Style---you got a problem with that!?!)? Not enough pictures of her, though. And I will always prefer the hair to be curly.

AND THE NOMINEES ARE'

The Oscar Nominations were announced this week and as always there's just some shit that cannot be explained. Ethan Hawke!?! Ethan fucking Hawke? Is that a joke? A friend argued that you couldn't nominate Denzel Washington without nominating his foil. Please, I could have sat in that fucking car with him and his performance would have been the same. They could have placed a block of wood there. Wait! They did and its name was ETHAN HAWKE! I'm actually glad that Renee Zellwiger was nominated because comedy is so much harder than drama (any asshole could whine here every week; being funny about it is a bitch). Same for Ian McKellan. Making the unreal feel real is also very difficult (any asshole could make up a life here every week; making you believe me is a bitch). Forcing Jennifer Connelly into Best Supporting Actress category is the only way she won't get her ass smoked by Sissy Spacek in the Best Actress competition, but it's such a joke (praytell, who was the lead actress in A Beautiful Mind?). How many favors is Tom Cruise calling in to make sure Nicole Kidman doesn't win? Not that she even deserves to be nominated. Same for Halle Berry. This Ridley Scott, David Lynch stuff is bullshit. If they did such a good job, why aren't their movies here? Speaking of which, how can you nominate Moulin Rouge and not the man who made it happen? And Christopher Nolan of Momento was dissed royally. Sean Penn again proves that playing any sort of cripple guarantees you a nomination. Mental or physical, it's money in the bank. Judi Densch is always great but she's in danger of becoming the "Frazier" of actresses, the way they nominate her for everything. And I'm pretty sure given the damage it did to her career (along with Robert Downey Jr. and It Had To Be You), the last thing Marisa Tomei wants is another Best Supporting Actress statue.

02/11/2002

"I know I'm not clever but I'm always right." --- J.M. Barrie

I'LL BE BACK'WITH MORE CRAPPY MOVIES

Collateral Damage opens at number one, but this won't last. It'll drop like a rock next week. This was supposed to open in October but they pulled it because of 9-11. Ironically, it probably would have done much better had they let it open. People were more into the revenge thing before it was actually achieved with the war. Now, this is just silly. And Arnold's time is so over. Unlike Bruce Willis, he's incapable of making the transition to films where he doesn't blow shit up. He's going to quickly be one of those people constantly quoting "worldwide grosses" because his domestic grosses suck. This is going to be the latest in a string of films that fail to make their money back for him. And you know Terminator 3 is going to suck.

TIME IS A CRUEL MISTRESS

Opening at number two and insuring who has the biggest trailer on Malcolm In The Middle (if it isn't already) is Big Fat Liar with Frankie Muniz, whose youthful good looks are already fading. Like Keri Russell before him, they aren't even going to make it to their 21st birthdays. He looks like he's just starting down the Anthony Michael Hall road to puffiness. Better hit the Stairmaster, kid.

RECIPIE FOR DISASTER: TAKE ONE OLD SCHOOL RAPPER'

Rollerball opens at number three and I think it's safe to say that any movie starring any member of the American Pie cast sucks. Trust me on this. Look at the evil pall that film has cast on America. Including itself, you have Loser, Josie & The Pussycats, Here On Earth, Say It Isn't So, Boys & Girls, The Musketeer, Body Shots, Dr. T & The Women, Tomcats, Scary Movie, Saving Silverman , Evolution, Road Trip and Dude, Where's My Car? They are a plague on cinema I tell you! American Beauty is the only exception and only on the days when I'm not annoyed by what an Updike/Cheever rip-off it is. Movies starring LL Cool J (don't make me list his crap too) are another sign of a crappy movie. Combine the two of them and you have what is no doubt a surefire waste of time all the people involved. And John McTiernan is so goddamn uneven. For every Die Hard and Hunt For Red October, there's a Die Hard 3 and Last Action Hero. The irony is, his last film was also a remake (The Thomas Crown Affair) and that was fucking great! I own it, but every time it runs on cable I still watch it.

SAVING THE NOBLE SAVAGE, 2002

Black Hawk Down is down to number four and now there are people trying to protest this movie because they consider it racist that the Somalian view was not shown. Needless to say, the people doing this are almost exclusively White. See, Black people in America are too busy trying not to be shot by cops to worry about this issue. Thank god we have overly-educated, White liberals to do it for us.

IN THE WORDS OF MADELINE KAHN, "I'M TIRED'"

Snow Dogs is down to number five and even I have run out of ways to insult this movie.

?EY, NAPOLEAN! WHAT DA FUCK ARE YOUSE LOOKIN' AT, ASSHOLE?

The Count of Monte Cristo is down to number six and there is nothing more guaranteed of a good laugh than the casting of a die-hard New Yorker in a period piece. Witness the guffaws of Harvey Kietel in The Last Temptation of Christ or Robert DeNiro in The Mission or Christopher Walken in Sarah Plain & Tall. No matter how they try, their regional accents accompany them into the past. At any moment you expect them to say, "You tell fuckin' King George to go fuck himself. Him and dose cocksuckin' redcoats. I will fuck him up!" (that's from Robert DeNiro as George Washington, coming in 2003). The latest addition to this is Luis Guzman as a Spanish pirate in The Count of Monte Cristo. The biggest crime of this is that Guzman is a longtime Steven Soderbergh alum and it was probably his participation in this that kept him out of Ocean's 11.

BUT SHE DATED JFK JR.

A Beautiful Mind is down to number seven, followed by A Walk To Remember at number eight and how much does it hurt Daryl Hannah to be playing Mandy Moore's mother in this movie? Not too long ago she was the babe for Charlie Sheen and Tom Hanks. When was the last time you saw either of them playing someone's dad? The irony is, both of them actually have teenage children (Hanks's was in Orange County, Sheen's was recently arrested for shoplifting). Sigh. It's a man's world, kids. Even for blondes.

ETC'

The Mothman Prophecies drops to number nine, followed by I Am Sam at number ten.

DICK

Because there were no films worth seeing this weekend I decided to stay home and torture myself with some straight-to-video action. Now, I'm sure at the time teaming up the then-hot Johnny Knoxville with the still-hot Sarah Jessica Parker in an offbeat romantic comedy about an Irish hitman who can't kill anyone and his girlfriend who's all-too-good at it and does his killing for him, seemed like a good idea. The execution (no pun intended), however, was something less, which is how Life Without Dick wound up on the video shelves last week with little-to-no fanfare. First off, just because the director wrote what could have been a funny script, doesn't mean he's the man to direct it. I have to admit some of the bits within the film were amusing, but a running gag of Harry Connick Jr.---who is the aforementioned hitman---being a frustrated singer whom everyone wants to sing (especially his gangster buddies) gets old quickly. Though not as quickly as Connick's face. My god, what happened to him? He looks rubbery now. And much, much respect must be given to the makeup artists and lighting crew on Sex & The City, because without them, Sarah Jessica Parker looks incredibly old and haggard.

THE FUTURE WAS SO BRIGHT THEY HAD TO WEAR SHADES

Baby It's You came on TV this weekend and it was the film that made me first fall not just for Rosanna Arquette, but for Tracey Pollan (a.k.a., Mrs. Michael J. Fox) as well. Sadly, it was network TV, so Arquette's nude scene was out of the question, but Tracy Pollan did some serious justice to tight pair of corduroys, that almost made up for it. Also in the film were Matt Modine and Robert Downey Jr., but the one who made the biggest splash and then fell out of sight was Vincent Spano. Now, he was built up to be the next big thing only to make career mistake after career mistake (without the curse of Vanity Fair even) and finally wind up a second villain banana in Texas Rangers, where he gets whacked by James van der Beek. Rosanna Arquette herself has been reduced to a never ending series of sad silly almost-cameo roles in movies where she plays an obnoxious shrew. One is Good Advice (where Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards hooked up) where she hits rock bottom: sex scenes with Jon Lovitz.

LIKE HOMER SAYS, "IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE IT'S TRUE."

Speaking of Sex & The City (which was brilliantly parodied in a ten second segment on The Simpsons called "Nookie In New York"), the mini-season came to an end last night and I have to admit, it was a stellar sex episodes with some top notch writing going on. Maybe I'm just getting soft in my old age, but when she opened the second envelope to find the plane ticket, it got a little misty in the Batcave (the fact that the only place I'd leave NYC for is San Francisco, didn't help). But it wasn't a mini season. They were extra episodes shot in case of a strike last spring (you can also thank that fear for the incredibly sorry run of movies recently).

BUT THEY WERE GOOD IN KEVIN SMITH'S LAST MOVIE

Sunday night also saw the end of Project Greenlight and notice how they managed to avoid the fact that the movie was generally panned at Sundance and instead focused on the individuals who liked it. If this movie is any clue, the writer director should have a prominent future ahead of him making Hallmark Hall of Fame movies for fucking PAX TV. What was truly funny was watching Matt Damon say, "You're only as good as your last movie." This from a man whose last few movies were All The Pretty Horses and The Legend Of Bagger Vance. And we won't get into Ben Affleck's track record.

HELL, IT'S PRETTY MUCH JACK'S SHOW NOW ANYWAY

Speaking of Matt Damon, he appeared on Will & Grace last week and it was a decent episode. And I'm not just saying that because it caused Debra Messing to appear in various stages of undress. I mean, let's face it: she's a freaking stick (so the real joke about her "rocking ass" was that she doesn't have one at all). But a stick that I like. I've noticed that it's actually funnier when Jack and Grace are together because they're both crazy. Witness the episode where they accompany Jack's son to his first dance or when Will was away and Jack was teaching her the Britney Spears's dance steps from the "Oops, I Did It Again" video.

REMEMBER WHEN ALL IT TOOK WAS TALENT? NAW, ME NEITHER.

Bridget Fonda finally finished her four episode run on The Chris Issak Show (their break-up made me misty too, so you can see my reasons for being in therapy are valid), so I thought I was done with it, but then they go and put Shelby Lynne on it so I had to watch it again last night. If you thought she looked tiny and skinny on the show, imagine what she looks like in real life. She's itty-bitty. And I've no doubt her appearance on this show was the latest attempt by her and her label to make her a star. Read any interview and not only does she want it bad, but she's starting to get pissed at not having it yet. Sigh. You'd think being talented was enough. I mean, it's not like she's got to keep a day job like the rest of us. And I hate to break it to her, but this is not the show to be on if you want the mainstream world to notice you. Better hope there's room for a singing corpse on Six Feet Under.

THAT TICKET OUT OF TUBBYTOWN? IT WAS ROUND TRIP

So I must be feeling better. I'm starting to gain weight again. Aside from rediscovering my love of melting pepper jack cheese over nachos, there was the dinner with The Three Sisters and then The Husband of Sister #1 comes into town and we go to eat at Virgil's, one of the few southern food places in NYC I will actually patronize. Granted, they all still commit the cardinal sin of not using pork as a seasoning (yeah, I know, there are Jews here), but otherwise, the food is as heavy and heart-choking as any I've tasted, especially the biscuits and gravy. Thankfully, The Husband's sharing of his uncircumcised status didn't dampen my appetite any. Why do people just share all their shit with me? He's originally from Europe and this is why those people don't run the world anymore. All that foreskin is holding you back. The world belongs to the cut! Not you pigs-in-a-blanket.

ALL I CAN SAY IS, "THANK GOD FOR CABLE."

All my life I've hated the Olympics. For me as a kid, it just meant a week when none of my favorite shows were on TV. It hasn't changed. There will be no Will & Grace or Law & Order next week because some idiot somewhere decided sliding down an ice funnel on a sled was a sport. Give me a break. A sport involves you racing other people, not a clock, not to mention being a result of your physical prowess, not the effects of fucking gravity. Still, I tried to watch the opening ceremony. Somehow I was able to tear myself away and read my three month backlog of comic books (another reason I'm in therapy: I've been uninterested in my comic books recently too). What was up with all that Indian ceremony crap? First of all, it was too long. Second, what possible meaning could this have had to the other nations of the world? I don't care and this is my country. Third, you're celebrating the victims of genocide! "Hey, look at this amazing, interesting culture---that we wiped the fuck out!" And now that the Cold War is over, does anyone really give a fuck about the "Miracle on Ice" hockey team anymore? So you beat the Soviet team. So what? You stole the only joy those miserable bastards had in a life under communist rule. Good for you.

BUT MY ONE-MAN SHOW ABOUT THE LIFE OF GARY COLEMAN WILL BE INCREDIBLE

So, I was obligated for reasons too complicated to explain to go to a one woman show called J.A.P, which was about Japanese American girl's journey to somehow becoming a New York Jew. Now, that actually sounds funny in its premise, which is more than you can say about 99% of all one-man-shows. They are more self-indulgent than a lead singer's first solo album. Hell, self-portraits have a wider variety of topics. One-man shows are what actors do when they don't have enough work (which is why we all need support them as much as possible). Sadly, this was no exception. And the songs didn't help. Especially the ones in Hebrew. What's unfortunate is there was an interesting story there. How can someone appear on Fresh Prince of Bel Air, a Belinda Carlisle music video, tour with Jody Whatley, be in at least two versions of Miss Saigon and somehow wind up Jewish and not have some truly funny fucking stories to tell? Rather than go funny, she went touchy feely, which may save her a fortune in therapy, but wasn't easy on an audience sitting for two hours in a very well-heated SoHo space. I had to buy my companion dinner to make it up to her, so miserable was she by the end (and she's Asian).

IMAGINE ?SEX & THE CITY" MEETS "LESS THAN ZERO" AND YOU'LL HAVE AN IDEA

So, more than once have I mentioned here about the Wild Child who put all others to shame with her sex & drugs lifestyle (mostly sex though). Every time someone tries to impress me with the stories of their decadent youth, I reflect on the woman I knew who topped them all. You say you once snorted coke off Prince Charles's ass in the back of a club downtown? Chances are she was the one who taught him that. Her life is like a Sidney Sheldon novel, and just when you think it's all too wild to be true, you get confirmation of it all and your mind just reels. Needless to say, this is incredibly entertaining from a spectator's point of view, especially when you're young (I met her and Sister #1 in college; they were roommates and Sister #1 has no shortage of wild stories to tell either), but then you grow older and realize that behavior like this usually comes from no small amount of emotional pain. It's like having a great drinking buddy then suddenly realizing he's not just partying; he's an alcoholic. Needless to say, I eventually tired of the 3am phone calls and stories of self-destructive decadence and finally severed our friendship during my meltdown on my 33rd birthday (I'll never forgive the person who explained that Jesus Year shit to me). I called her after 9-11 to make sure she was okay, but had no intention of resuming regular contact. That changed Saturday night when I was preparing to go to the one-woman-show. She called me and wanted to see me. My original plans having fallen through (after being harassed by my friends, I was actually going to make an effort to show my little roommate the city), I asked her to come along with me to the show. She did and after making her suffer through it, I bought her dinner in Chinatown. Needless to say, as a veteran of many therapists, she was highly amused that I, one of the most stable people she'd known, was now under treatment. Ironically, she turned out to have an otter problem of her own and was thinking about going back into therapy because it. She seemed a little more stable than the last time we'd spoken two years ago, but there was still some of the old craziness there, so I haven't decided if I was lying or not when I said I'd call her. On the upside, she'd be a welcome distraction from my own crap.

IT'S A GEEK ISSUE

Finally, the new issue of Vanity Fair with Star Wars on the cover (the hype begins now, kids) has an article on Superman. It has a few valid points, but for the most part it's shit. Connecting the success of Superman to successes and failures of the two Bush administrations is so much bullshit it hurts me to think about it. You wanna know about Superman, ask me, not some asshole trying to be hip and glib about it. Gonna have to write those fuckers a letter like I did when Entertainment Weekly dissed him. They were too scared to print my angry geek venom, though.