5/27/2002
"The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies, but also
to hate his friends." --- Friedrich Nietzsche
YES, PIECE OF CRAP FILM THIS IS
Still at number one, Star Wars: Attack of the clones sucks so badly they’re
being forced to used their best scene in the TV commercials, which is of Yoda
breaking out a big can of whoop-ass. I’m still waiting for them to fall back
on their Phantom Menace super-desperate ploy of having "supposed" theatergoers
comment on how good the film was, since every critic hates it. The nadir of
that effort was having women talk about how much they liked Natalie Portman’s
make up. Typical George Lucas. Fifty-something years old and he still has no
idea what to do with women. Rather than give Natalie Portman an actual character,
instead she goes through---and I’m not exaggerating here---no less than 15 costume
changes during the course of this film. Cher doesn’t change costumes that much
in her Las Vegas show!
NOT THAT I HAVE JUSTIFY MYSELF TO YOU PEOPLE
Spider-man holds at number two and let me make it clear why the organic web-shooters
thing is wrong. It’s fucking creepy. Of all the spider powers you don’t want,
oozing web fluid out of your body tops that list (okay, maybe second behind
eight legs---and in the comics Peter Parker once accidentally gave himself those
while trying to boost his powers). Yeah, you people think I’m overreacting because
it doesn’t change the character that much. Well, that’s my fucking point. If
doesn’t change anything, why change it at all? It just creates more problems
than it solves. Think about it. Just how much is Mary Jane going to like him,
the first time she sees that shit coming directly out of his body? What person
wouldn’t that freak out? Stan Lee didn’t give him the power to spin webs 40
years ago, because it was creepy and he knew it. Heroes don’t have creepy powers.
They have powers you want. Super-strength, flying, running fast…not oozing sticky
fluid (keep your dirty jokes to yourself).
I’M SO TIRED/I HAVEN’T SLEPT A WINK…
Insomnia opens at number three and I don’t think it’s any surprise that this
isn’t as good as the Norwegian original, which starred Stellan Skarsgard, an
actor who instantly elevates they level of any film he’s doing. The original
had the lead cop as a much darker character. Like most American films, the need
to paint in broad strokes of black and white morality is in full effect in the
remake. Whereas before, the Al Pacino character was a good cop with a dark side
(not to mention a taste for impeccable designer suits), he’s now just a good
cop forced into bad situations by fate. Also, the original European version
had sex. Not that I wanted to see Al Pacino rubbing the crotch of an all-too-willing
teenager he’s questioning or get into clinch with the lovely hotel clerk (Skarsgard
does both in the original), but it helped give the character a depth he lacks
here. Also, the ending is a total cop-out. Unfortunately, this leaves me unable
to determine if this is a good film or not on its own. All I could do was compare
it to the original. Nonetheless, the performances are all solid. Robin Williams
playing creepy may impress some, but he’s always been creepy to me. There was
always something sinister about his manic need to make you laugh. It’s as though
if he weren’t doing comedy, he’d be killing people. He’s not doing comedy now
and guess what? He’s killing people.
AT LAST, THE REASON WHY BLACK STALLION HAD A SEQUEL
Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron opens at number four and who is the audience
for all these horse movies that keep being made? I’m serious. Every other year
there is a horse movie from a major studio and I would like to know for whom
they’re being made. How many of you are latent or open equestrians? Who knew
the spirit of Catherine the Great dwelled within so many? That said, what’s
the point of seeing this movie? The whole thing, and I mean the whole thing,
is in the trailer. You see the horse as a pony, as an adult running free, you
see him trapped by the army, you see him break free with a Native American and
you see him being set free with his love interest. What more is there?
AND TO TOP IT OFF, THERE’S NOT ONE GOOD SHOT OF HER ASS…
Enough opens at number five and this is what we kindly refer to as "a star vehicle"
which means everything, and I mean everything, exists only to make the lead
look good. In this case it’s uber-diva Jennifer Lopez, who is seemingly the
only person to have made a movie with Steven Soderbergh who isn’t on her knees
begging to do it again, and as a result, she hasn’t made a movie as good since.
Michael Apted is a director of some merit, but even he seemed to have given
up half-way through this movie (there’s an interesting narrative technique that
abruptly vanishes mid-film and is never seen again). It’s a movie so absurd
that Jennifer Lopez never even has a name. She’s called "Slim" and in the first
five minutes it’s made clear this isn’t her real name, but we never ever learn
what it is. Not even after she’s married and has a kid. And the whole fight
scene that climaxes the film is just dumb. It’s so dumb that even within the
movie its logic is questioned. Billy Campbell looks at her in stunned disbelief
that she wants to fight him and he’s not alone. If she wanted to get away with
killing him and use self-defense as an alibi, why not one of the guns she hides
before starting the struggle? Obviously she has no qualms about killing him,
so why take the risk of actually being killed? Because then we wouldn’t have
cheap, knee-jerk thrills for all the JLo fans out there.
A WASTE OF A BABE
About A Boy is down to number six and despite what the advertising might suggest,
this is hardly a romantic comedy. I was sorely disappointed at the lack of Rachel
Weisz in this film She’s barely in it. The bulk of the film is his relationship
with the kid (which is why it’s called "About A Boy" and not "About A Hot English
Babe") and the purpose of the romance is pretty much to reinforce that storyline.
Oh, well. At least she’s one of the new Revlon faces (as Halle Berry will soon
cost too much).
QUEEN OF THE CHEATING WIFE MOVIES
Unfaithful is down to number seven and in light of this (and recommended by
the woman who got me into all-girl porn, The Married Housewife & Mother) I rented
A Walk On The Moon, starring Diane Lane as a seemingly happy housewife who has
an affair with Viggo Mortensen in the summer of ’69 (no pun intended) while
off at some type of Jewish summer camp for families (I didn’t understand it
Dirty Dancing and I don’t understand it now). Directed by Tony Goldwyn, it’s
obviously a completely different movie from Unfaithful. This time around, Diane
Lane is obviously frustrated having giving her life over to being a wife and
mother at the age of 17. The fact that her daughter (played by Anna Paquin)
is now a teenager only exacerbates matters. In comes Viggo Mortensen, who I
will be the first person to tell you, is hot. I understood why Gwyneth Paltrow
cheated with him in A Perfect Murder (she also cheated with him in real life,
which caused the breakup with Brad Pitt, but I told you that already) and I
understood why Diane Lane cheated with him here. Even when her mother-in-law
discovers it and begs her to stop, she can’t. Like Unfaithful, it too cops out
on the resolution to this transgression. In Unfaithful they duck the "what happens
next?" question by resulting to homicide, and in A Walk On The Moon, they have
a deus ex machina incident of having one of her children get hurt while she’s
away. This contrived incident results in Viggo coming to her aid, which allows
him to see the family he’s breaking up and allows the husband (played by indie
face, Liev Schreiber---jeez, these names) to see that the guy she’s cheating
with is decent and the whole forced scene just made me want to puke. The best
thing I can say about it is that at least it had a happy ending, because the
sex scene was much too short and she was barely naked in any of them.
THE REST
The New Guy is down to number eight, followed by Changing Lanes at number nine
and The Scorpion King closing out the top ten at number ten.
CQ REDUX
Not breaking the top ten is Roman Coppola’s first film CQ, which I briefly mentioned
a few weeks back. Well, it’s out now and you can finally go see that his future
lays in art direction, so well established is the mood of this film just by
the look of it alone. As I said before, the film is about an American film editor
in Paris (played by Jeremy Davies) who works on a science fiction film called
"Dragonfly" by day, but on his own "journal of truth" at night, using film he’s
swiped to record every mundane detail of his life---much to the chagrin of his
French girlfriend. When the director of the film is fired because he thinks
he’s making an art film while the producer wants a simple sexy action picture,
Jeremy Davies is eventually pushed into the director’s chair. If you know anything
about Barbarella, you know it was directed by Roger Vadim, who thought he made
art films, and it was produced by Dino De Laurentis, who probably can’t spell
art. Their roles are played by Gerard Depardieu and Giancarlo Giannini in the
film. Coppola gets a little help from his family in this, with a cameo by his
sister Sofia and a small role from his cousin Jonathan Schwarztman (Talia Shire’s
son). What makes this film work (barely) is that it avoids the cliches of Jeremy
Davies becoming director and turning into an egomaniac who crashes and burns,
but then rediscovers his love for film and gets his girlfriend back. These are
things you expect to happen because they’ve happened in every film like this,
but they don’t, so this film gets bonus points for that alone.
NEVER UNDERSTIMATE THE POWER OF POM POMS---TO ME
I’m a sick, sick man, which is why I love, love that corn chips commercial that
takes place solely in the locker room of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. A few
more like those and I can continue to sell off my porn DVD’s on ebay.
NEXT TIME: DIVAS MILWUAKEE!
VH1 Divas Las Vegas. Why don’t they just put this thing to bed already? They’ve
already started to repeat singers (Celine Dion again? Whitney Houston struggling
back?), real singers won’t do it (Annie Lennox refused based on the Diva name
alone) and they’ve run out of A-listers (Anastacia is a porn star’s name no
matter how you spell it and if I wanted to hear Taylor Dane, I’d listen to Taylor
Dane). And the shots from the audience are just sad (Backstreet Boys? David
Hasselhoff? Siegfried & Roy?). Mary J. Blige looks better every time I see her.
She must be happy, but that "No More Drama" song is going to cause her to burst
a blood vessel one day. I’m no fan of country music, but I’d be lying if I didn’t
admit to having a few cuts in my collection. Still the Dixie Chicks are lost
on me, but they did a damn nice rendition of "Landslide" with Stevie Nicks.
At least that was a legitimate collaboration. Why was Cyndi Lauper with Cher
and what good did it do? And I’m probably the only heterosexual male who does
not like Shakira. Yeah, she looks nice enough and I enjoy that hip-wiggling
thing she does, but that odd vocal effect she does on every song annoys the
hell out of me. Also, I’m told that her lyrics don’t really make the translation
to English, so I’m missing out on one of her virtues. Really. You mean to tell
me that "lucky that my breasts are small and humble/so you don’t confuse them
with mountains" actually sounds better in Spanish? French, maybe. But Spanish?
And teaming her up with Mary J was a colossal mistake. I kept waiting for Mary
to turn around and say, "Bitch, stop doing that weird thing with your voice
and put some fucking shoes on!"
IMA STAR OF WISSHBLADE, NOW GIMME A DRINK!
Yancy Butler, the star of Witchblade, went into alcohol rehab. Jeez, you’re
barely on cable and you’re self-destructing? That’s like hearing that the hosts
of Battlebots have drug problems. The sad thing is, she looks like a boozer
the same way Kathleen Turner has always looked like a boozer. In fact, that’s
who she’s always reminded me of, Kathleen Turner.
SIGH. I KEEP TELLING MYSELF IT’S STILL SUPERMAN
So, how embarrassed am I that I blew off watching Buffy all season long to work
myself up into an angry geek frenzy each week watching Smallville? Every single
freaking episode was the same: someone with kryptonite based powers takes on
Clark Kent and either dies or somehow forgets that Clark Kent had powers too,
and no one seems to question how and why he’s always around saving people. It
drove me crazy, but I never stopped watching it or getting pissed off. The same
way I’ll probably buy Spider-man on DVD even though it will piss me off every
time I watch it. It’s a masochistic geek thing that I simply cannot explain.
Oh, well. At least now, I can borrow all the Buffy episodes from someone and
watch them in one fell swoop. I won’t have to endure that month of repeats they
had to go through.
LEAD CANDIDATE TO PLAY MUSHMOUTH IN THE FAT ALBERT MOVIE
I couldn’t sit through it, but was there anything more pathetic than Master
P going to George Lucas’s Skywalker Ranch for MTV? First of all, why can’t this
man speak English? Yeah, I know he’s worth a couple hundred million dollars,
but that doesn’t excuse his not being able to properly pronounce "sword." The
second I heard that, the channel had to be turned. I know it’s silly, but every
time he opens his mouth I feel he embarrasses me on two levels: as a Black man
and as a person from the South.
MOVIES VS. CINEMA
The Cannes Film Festival was this week and does anyone really care anymore?
Yes, there was a time when "winner at Cannes" meant something to certain pretentious,
pseudo-intellectual filmgoers, but their choices in films have so long since
become an opportunity to just give Hollywood the finger, that they really can’t
be trusted any longer. It’s not so much the best film that seems to win, but
the least-Hollywood like film. Now, I’m not going to defend crap Hollywood filmmaking,
but at least at the core of it, they know you can’t make money if people don’t
enjoy your film. To whit, purpose of European filmmaking seems to be to make
films that no one enjoys and then pat yourself on the back for having sat through
it. And yes, I do realize the irony of saying this in the same column where
I praise the original European version of Insomnia over the Hollywood remake.
LIKE YOU HEARD OF "DOWNTOWN TRAIN" BEFORE ROD STEWART COVERED IT
Having long since sold my Ryan Adams CD, I’m more than a little embarrassed
to find myself liking "Where The Stars Go Blue" a cover of his song by The Corrs
with Bono. They may finally have their American crossover hit after years of
trying to force their "Gaelic-lite" crap down our throats. But this won’t be
the first time I’ve appreciated a watered down version of a song above the raw
original. Sorry, but I’m willing to sacrifice a little raw energy to actually
hear a melody and understand lyrics (so fuck you, all you Neil Young and Tom
Waits fans). And if you’ve ever wondered what my former drinking buddy, Chasing
Amy, looked like, she looks like the lead singer of The Corrs. No, I’m not kidding
(I don’t hang out with ugly broads). It’s only because I’ve always tried to
ignore them that I didn’t notice until now.
OTHER EXAMPLES: THE HULK ISN’T MAD ANYMORE, MY BATARANG WON’T COME BACK, YOU
MUST HAVE KRYPTONITE IN YOUR---
Finally, about a year ago director Kevin Smith, a geek of no small magnitude,
used his clout to bring the character of the original Green Arrow back from
the grave, years after his death and even after his son had taken his place.
Never having been impressed by the Green Arrow character to begin with, I doubt
if anything other than Kevin Smith writing it could have gotten me to read it
(on the other hand, I ignored his writing Daredevil a few years back). Having
acquired a serious backlog of comics during my Otter Obsession (how could I
waste time reading comics when the otters were in danger?), I was finally able
to finish the first storyline this weekend. Not only am I not impressed by Green
Arrow’s needless resurrection, but there’s actually a scene where Green Arrow
and his ex-girlfriend, Black Canary, engage in a little bedroom talk after sex.
He tells her his "quiver is empty" and then pays a visit to "Sherwood Forest"
(translation, he can’t get it up again, so he goes down on her). Now, I’m no
prude, but if there must be sex in comics, can we do without the pathetic bedroom
talk. Ugh. This is why I keep silent. Last thing I need is some shit like "visiting
Sherwood Forest" coming back to haunt me. And it will, because women tell their
girlfriends everything you do.
5/20/2002
"Never eat more than you can lift." --- Miss Piggy
AS DARTH VADER ONCE SAID, "YOUR POWERS ARE WEAK, OLD MAN."
Star Wars Episode II Attack of the Clones opens at number one and despite
my lowered expectations this still sucked beyond belief. George Lucas
is a bad director and a lousy writer, but he’s so rich and so geeky, no
one can tell him shit. The major problem with Attack of the Clones (other
than its own creator and that stupid title) is that there is no immediate
story being told. Star Wars had "rescue the princess, destroy the Death
Star." The Empire Strikes Back had "train to be a Jedi, run from Darth
Vader." And even Return of the Jedi had "rescue Han, destroy the Death
Star and fight Darth Vader." This film, like The Phantom Menace, is actually
about how the emperor manipulated his way into power through a series
of Machiavellian machinations. Not exactly compelling adventure material
is it? The story of Anakin Skywalker becoming Darth Vader is actually
only part of this story and handled so poorly it can’t hold your interest
(the one scene where he briefly goes dark and postal is handled offscreen).
Even the special effects are disappointing. We’ve seen CGI so many times
in so many movies, that it’s not just unimpressive, it’s flat out boring.
Also, like Spider-Man and Blade II, they make the mistake of using computer-generated
animation to replace people when they don’t need to and it looks horrible.
Only at the end when Yoda opens up a can of whoop-ass and takes on Christopher
Lee in a master Jedi battle is the most made of special effects and did
the movie even threaten to arouse my interest. Let me put it this way:
the high point of this entire movie (outside of Yoda) was seeing the teaser
trailer for The Matrix sequels.
ONLY HALF FULLED WITH CRAP, NOT HALF EMPTY
Spider-Man is down to number two and in the wake of seeing Star Wars,
this has suddenly become a multi-layered masterpiece in comparison. Granted
it’s not, but as I told my Older Brother, I grade this on a scale of not
how good it is, but how bad it isn’t. For a movie based on a comic book,
where unnecessary, stupid changes were made (yes, the web-shooters thing
will forever be sand in my ass), it’s amazing.
SKIP THIS SECTION IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN UNFAITHFUL AND WANT TO BE SURPRISED.
Unfaithful is down to number three and the more I think about it, the
more annoyed I become with the ending of this movie. I don’t think I’m
giving anything away to say that The Frog gets killed. The commercials
all but show Richard Gere killing him. Not that I wouldn’t kill my wife’s
lover and torture her with the fact that I did it, but death kills the
sex appeal of this movie. Kinda hard to look back fondly on the hot humping
that goes on earlier in the film when one them winds up covered in blood
with his eyes open and the other is miserable, consumed by the guilt that
her husband killed her lover over her. I guess I shouldn’t have expected
more from Adrian Lynne. Despite his soft-core porn overtones, he purports
and almost fundamentalist belief that violating your marriage vows leads
to a horrible fate---for the outsider at least. The family must, and always
does survive. If there’s anyone I wanted to see die it was Robert Redford
in Indecent Proposal (actually, I wanted everyone in Indecent Proposal
dead). Where was his heavy hand then?
SOMEHOW ADAM SANDLER DIDN’T GET THE SAME RESPECT
About A Boy opens at number four and this is the latest entry in a classic
Hollywood genre of "rake being redeemed by a child," (Private War of Major
Benson, Baby Boom, Big Daddy, Three Men & A Baby, etc). Sadly, this film
throws no new light on the subject, because no matter how bad the character
might be in the beginning, you know he or she is going to be completely
turned in the end. Hugh Grant plays the ultimate slacker who is spared
the indignity of ever having to work thanks to royalties from a song his
father wrote. Because he thinks they will be less trouble than single
women, he hatches a plan to pick up single mothers which only results
in the son of one such single mom becoming attached to him. And thusly
begins the redemption. Much has been made of Hugh Grant’s unsympathetic
performance, but to be honest, he’s not that bad. He was much worse in
Bridget Jones’s Diary. In fact, this film might have been more interesting
had he played someone who really was a selfish bastard as opposed to the
faux bastard he plays in this film. For example: there was a plotline
on ER where Kirstin Dunst kept reappearing as a teen runaway/hooker/druggie/whatever
and George Clooney was always the doctor she wound up with. As it turned
out, her character actually had a mother but because Clooney was always
the doctor who "saved her" an idea was put forth that he would become
her guardian. Both Dunst and her mother were for the idea (as mom’s boyfriends
had abused Dunst in the past), but Clooney flat out refused and it never
came up again (I don’t know if her character ever turned up again, because
I only watched the show sporadically to begin with and not at all after
Clooney left). That’s a true self-involved bastard. He was the one thing
that stood between this girl and her eventual self-destruction and he
still refused, abandoning her to her fate. Not that anyone wants to see
a movie about this, least of all one billed as a comedy, but it would
have been more in character for Hugh Grant to have done the same thing,
but find the boy "forced" on him somehow. As it is, it’s reasonably amusing,
but hardly extraordinary.
THOUGH IS BEN AFFLECK REALLY BETTER THAN AN ANIMATED ROBOT?
The New Guy is down to number five followed by Changing Lanes at number
six, giving Samuel L. Jackson two films on this list and I’m sure after
months of being dull in front of a bluescreen for Star Wars, shooting
this on the streets of Manhattan was refreshing.
FIRST JENNIFER BEALS, THEN VIN DIESEL AND NOW…
The Scorpion King is down to number seven and the most amazing thing I
can find about The Rock is how he’s this incredible super-minority (half-Black,
half-Samoan)and yet no one seems to mention it. While I’d like to believe
that people don’t care as much anymore, do you think that this movie would
have been made if The Rock were either all Samoan or all Black and the
two didn’t seemingly cancel each other out, giving him this "ambiguous
ethnic look"? The funniest (and only) acknowledgement I’ve seen about
this is how gay men love him and why, which came courtesy of Michael Musto
in The Village Voice: "Black and Samoan? Is that a recipe for horse cock
or what?"
BUT I WOULD ACCEPT AN INNERSPACE 2
The Rookie is down to number eight and if this leads to a series of Dennis
Quaid starring roles then the producers will have earned a place in the
ninth level of hell. Sorry, but I have no sympathy at all for any of these
little stars who get it all then piss it away getting fucked up. You just
know Randy Quaid looks at him and thinks, "I can’t believe your sorry
ass got all the good looks."
SORRY, BUT LYNDA CARTER JUST SET THE BAR TOO HIGH
Murder By Numbers is down to number nine and supposedly they’re preparing
for a Miss Congeniality 2. I’m sure once these disappointing grosses came
in, it was put on the fast track and Sandra Bullock’s planned year off
was put on the back burner. Let’s just hope it’ll keep her away from a
Wonder Woman movie as well. Yes, they’ve been talking to Sandra Bullock
for Wonder Woman. Jesus fucking Christ. In what universe does 5’7" equal
an amazon? Has Lucy Lawless not essentially been playing this role for
the last five or six years anyway? Not to mention that Sandra Bullck’s
too goddamned old. Hell, she’s 37 now. By the time they got this damn
thing off the ground and made she’d be 40. There are middle-aged superheroes,
but Wonder Woman is not one of them.
SOMEONE LOCK THAT BACKDOOR!
Finally, My Big Fat Greek Wedding slipped somehow into the top ten at
number ten.
THE TRUTH IS…BORING
The X-Files finally came to an end this week, four years after it should
have and two after it absolutely needed to. I tried watching it but it’s
just such a sorry shadow of its former self that even David Duchovny’s
return couldn’t help. And I was reminded of something that’s bothered
me for years: every time Fox Mulder stands up in a room and goes on about
aliens taking over the planet, even I think he’s out of his fucking mind
and I know he’s right. The whole conspiracy thing only ever worked in
small doses. After a certain point, it too quickly became a parody of
itself. Thankfully, at its best the show did realize this (The Cigarette
Smoking Man’s sabotaging of the Buffalo Bills in each one of their Super
Bowls, for example). Now what? Supposedly a movie is coming, but I really
don’t care any more. Stop the aliens, let them take over the planet, I
don’t care. Only a Gillian Anderson nude scene could even get me to raise
an eyebrow at it. And while I’m on it, I hate the idea of them as a couple.
All that kissing and cuddling just looked wrong. No rational woman would
ever date Fox Mulder. Sleep with him? Sure, but fall for him? No. And
is it just me, but since their kid was created in vitro, doesn’t it mean
that Scully went the entire series without ever getting laid?
TIME WOUNDS ALL HEELS
Now that I’ve become a fan of Tina Fey on Saturday Night Live’s Weekend
Update, I let it sit with the sound off until she comes on, so I was able
to at least see Winona Ryder on it this weekend. It seems she’s finally
starting to look her age---with a vengeance! Don’t get me wrong. She still
looks good (still a freak of nature with big breasts on a skinny body)
but that porcelain beauty she once had is slowly slipping away. Maybe
it was the jail time, maybe it was being reduced to making a movie with
Adam Sandler, either way her long reign as America’s most desired child/woman
is undeniably over (it pretty much ended with Britney’s first album).
And I’m telling you again, kids, her movie with the big explicit sex scene
is coming any minute. First Halle Berry did it (and got an Oscar), then
Diane Lane did it (and got one last breath of air for her career), next
is Winona Ryder so she can make the transition to adult female roles.
STAR WALKING
I saw Jimmy Smits on the street right after seeing Star Wars, so that
made it a bit of a surreal experience. It was a nice step up after seeing
such low lights as the guy who plays the screaming queen, Anthony, on
Sex & The City and Adam Goldberg, who died the horrible "whispering death"
in Saving Private Ryan and is too stupid to realize he’s too fucking ugly
to play any parts other than the ones David Schwimmer turns down.
GET A NICE DISNEY MOVIE INSTEAD
So, once again I find myself helping someone choose porn for their personal
collection. Seriously, I don’t want to be known as the porn guy. If I
did, I would start a porn website and make some fucking money (I made
a free one, but that was long ago, so don’t bother asking for the web
address). In any case, I found myself trying to help Miss Pretty Boy pick
out the right porn DVD from my online store of choice www.adultdvdempire.com.
Now the only problem I have with it, is you pay by credit card, which
means there’s a paper trail and conceivably someone can one day discover
you bought "Anal Teenage Midget Cheerleaders." You can buy it in person
with cash, but then you have to face down the clerk who sees you buying
it. So, it’s a choice between two evils. In any case, ultimately, I must
advise against it. Rent your porn. Trust me on this. You’re less likely
to watch porn again than you are any other movie in your collection and
how many of them sit there gathering dust? Unlike Casablanca "Buttwoman
‘97" doesn’t really stand up to repeated viewings. I guess this is why
I usually only buy while drunk at one in the morning (a hazard of the
train letting me out at 8th Ave in the 40’s). When sober I’m reminded
that I have 235 DVD’s (not counting the porn) and most of them just sit
there. I’ve got 31 porn DVD’s but when I want to see porn, I rent something
new. I don’t look at what’s sitting right there because, quite frankly,
it gets boring after a few times. As it is, I’m slowly selling off my
smut DVD’s on ebay. Besides, for me to effectively help you buy porn,
I have to know just you like and aside from being too embarrassing to
share ("I’ve got this thing for dentists…"), I really don’t want
to know. Instead, go to www.rame.net and look at their frighteningly detailed
reviews and make your own choices.
BAKED GOODS
So, to counteract my addiction to Magnolia Bakery’s cupcakes, which were
increasing my waistline while decreasing my wallet ($1.50 per cupcake),
I decided to make my own, eat them until I made myself sick and then move
on to my next food obsession. Using a mix that required one stick of butter,
I instead used two sticks so it would be extra moist. I would up with
22 of them. There are now 6 left and my roommate only had one. Thank god
I kept the "fat jeans."
I HAVE EATEN SEAFOOD ON THE STREET AND LIVED!
In addition to cupcakes, further damage was done by the annual 9th Avenue
Food Fair. It went like this: ham on a biscuit, ziti, chicken sapas, beef
bourginon, banana pudding, pork sandwich, melted mozzarella on sweet cornbread
and grilled shark on a stick. Hmmm, gonna need something with an elastic
waistband, I think.
GOODBYE SOCIAL LIFE, HELLO GRAND THEFT AUTO III!
So my therapist wants me to date. I’m trying to decide if this is for
my own well being or because, like the rest of you, she gets no small
amusement from my dating stories. Also, now that the Otter Obsession has
subsided somewhat, I’m feeling much better, so my need for therapy is
now in question (yeah, I know it’s like stopping your medication simply
because you feel better, but if you saw my therapy bills you’d understand)
and nothing, but nothing, fucks you up like another person, especially
if you’re sleeping with them. Slim chance on that, though. Playstation
2 had dropped $100 and I’m poised to rejoin that particular cult. My other
therapist, my guitar instructor, is getting equally weird. I’ve been late
twice in the last two weeks (after five months of never being late) and
he starts talking to me about "what it means to me" and how "whatever
you are comes out in the music." Sigh. Listen, buddy, I’m not studying
to take on Darth Vader. I’m just trying to get fucking "Wonderwall" down,
okay? I don’t need to "search my feelings." It has no freaking meaning.
5/20/2002
"In love affairs it is only the beginnings that are amusing. Therefore, you
should start over again as soon as possible." --- Marquise de Sevigne
IT COULD BE WORSE; IT COULD BE TORONTO
It’s no surprise Spider-man stays at number one and you can always tell when
someone who doesn’t live in New York makes a movie in New York. No matter what,
they manage to make it look like a studio backlot. Sam Rami is no exception
to this rule. Aside from creating a building in Times Square where no such building
exists, he gets all the colors wrong. Manhattan is blue and gray, period. And
where are all these alleys where Spider-man is fighting muggers? All the alleys
are downtown, where, ironically, the buildings are at their lowest. Trust me:
there is enough weird crime in this city that you don’t need to fall back on
mugger cliches. The lamest is the appearance of the interracial gang that comes
after Kirstin Dunst. If "Friends" were as integrated as that gang was, I wouldn’t
hate it so much. By the way, SPIDER-MAN DOES NOT GENERATE WEBBING FROM HIS BODY!
ME AND MRS. JONES/WE GOT A THING/GOIN’ ON…
Unfaithful opens at number two and director Adrian Lynne has long since established
himself as the soft-core porn king of mainstream films (9 1/2 Weeks, Fatal Attraction,
Indecent Proposal), but what he really is the foremost chronicler of domestic
disturbance. With the exception of his most famous film (9 1/2 Weeks) the others
are all about cracks in seeming domestic bliss. He adds to that tally with Unfaithful,
which again begins with a couple in seeming domestic bliss in the suburbs, but
there’s apparently something lacking as Diane Lane (who exceeds only Halle Berry
in celebrity I’ve waited longest to see get nekked) begins an affair with what
can only be seen as an archetype of sorts: a gorgeous French bookseller who
lives in SoHo. Looks, brains, nice apartment, French accent---could he be more
of a fantasy? What makes this better than most films about adultery is the cliches
it avoids. Richard Gere is far from a cold, unloving, inattentive husband. In
fact, he knows his wife so well, he suspects something’s up from the first day
she meets Mr. Book Frog (which reflects my own personal belief that you always
know when someone is cheating on you---you just choose not to). He even tries
to head her off at the pass, but is too wimpy about it to be effective. Despite
its dark center, this is the kind of movie that could and should get you laid
(which explains why I saw it alone at 11:00am on a Sunday). Two gorgeous people
constantly gettin’ it on in a variety of gorgeous settings…if that doesn’t work
for you, I don’t now what will. The only problem is its running time. The resolution
to the film is dragged out over twenty additional, unnecessary minutes. There’s
a wonderful sequence wherein Diane Lane looks back over the trouble her affair
has caused and imagines herself refusing Mr. Book Frog’s first entreaty to his
apartment. Had it ended there, you would be been left with a wonderfully ambiguous
finale that allowed you to choose if she ever had the affair at all. I normally
don’t like that shit (Brazil, Vanilla Sky and a dozen others all just pissed
me off), but here it would have worked.
WHATEVER, MAN
The New Guy opens at number three and this is so beneath my notice it hurts.
I’m just wondering how long Eliza Dushku can ride her small Buffy The Vampire
Slayer fame? How many Maxim layouts can she do before someone notices she’s
not that pretty and has the body of a small boy? Granted, skanky has some appeal,
but not that much.
I DARE YOU TO SAY "ROGAINE" TO HIM
The Scorpion King is down to number four and I have to admit The Rock has a
certain charisma about him and is far from being an idiot. But am I the only
one who notices the receding hairline on this guy? I guess when you’re that
big (6’3", 275lbs) no one is going to give you shit about it. Except maybe Warren
Sapp, who beat him out for his defensive position back in college.
ETC
Changing Lanes is down to number five, followed by Murder By Numbers at six.
EVEN THE ANGRYGEEK GOES OUTSIDE OCCASIONALLY
The Rookie is down to number seven and has made damn near $70M. I just have
one question: who the fuck is seeing this? More importantly, who needs to see
it over and over because that’s where this money is coming from, repeat viewings.
I mean, isn’t real baseball going on right now? And can’t you actually go outside
and play? What kind of loser is seeing this for the fifth time in the wake of
all that?
CAN’T EVEN EAT CROW PROPERLY
Panic Room actually rises up two notches to number eight and in the most recent
issue of Premiere Dino De Laurentis tries to crawl out of the hole he dug himself
into when he ripped on Jodie Foster after she passed on doing Hannibal. Why?
Well, you’ve got a film at almost $100M with only one star to take credit. You
do the math. He can’t afford to alienate her. Funny thing about his apology,
though. The fuckwad never actually apologizes.
HOW THE MEDIOCRE HAVE FALLEN
Ice Age is down to number nine and formerly the biggest grossing film of 2002,
it has now been knocked out by Spider-man in less than a week. Heh-heh-heh.
…AND I WAS DRUNK THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE SHOOT TOO
Finally, Life or Something Like It closes out the top ten and I’m sure everyone
involved is now practicing their "I got paid to hang out in Seattle for a few
weeks" speech to justify their participation in this crap.
BAD ENOUGH IT’S FRENCH, BUT IT’S FRENCH HISTORY
Not breaking the top ten and not deserving to is The Lady & The Duke, the latest
film from Eric Rohmer, the true story of a British aristocrat who lived in France
during the time of the revolution and subsequent terror. She kept a diary of
that time and this film is based upon that. Your standard historical drama,
it’s notable only for two things. First of all, Eric Rohmer shot it on digital
video and a lot of it against a greenscreen on which he later dropped in backgrounds
painted to look like the Paris of that period. It’s an interesting effect. Not
two hours worth of interesting, but interesting nonetheless. Second, this film
has caused a minor controversy in France, where The Revolution is sacred. Rohmer
depicts the revolutionaries as the bloodthirsty peasants they quickly became,
eager to get a pound of flesh from anyone that even resembled an aristocrat.
Apparently, even two hundred years after the fact this is still a problem. But
what more can you expect from---in the words of the immortal Homer Simpson---"cheese-eating
surrender monkeys."
WELCOME TO MY FUCKING FILM FESTIVAL
This week was the first annual Tribeca Film Festival, founded by Robert DeNiro
and his producing partner, Jane Rosenthal, to boost the suffering lower Manhattan
area in the wake of 9/11. For some reason it initially escaped me that maybe
I should try to go to this. This is why I only bought tickets at the last minute
and wasn’t able to attend any of the great panels they had. A discussion of
food in film with Martin Scorcese over lunch? Holy fucking shit! How great would
that have been? Granted, there was a panel on romance in films, but since the
odious Nora Ephron was chairing it, I had no interest, even though Lauren Bacall
(who’s from Brooklyn) was scheduled to be there. Then there was the panel of
post-9/11 filmmaking with Jon Stewart, another on music in movies with Robbie
Robertson and another of intellect in films with Harold Ramis and Dr. Oliver
Sacks. In the end, I was only able to get tickets to two films that interested
me, as the bulk was your usual "let’s see who can be the most depressing and
plot-free" bullshit indie fare. The first was CQ ("seek you" get it?) the first
film from Coppola sperm, Roman. The fruit of artistic self-indulgence didn’t
fall far from the tree, but mercifully, he kept it short and actually vaguely
interesting. The story of an idealistic film editor in Paris in ’69 who suddenly
finds himself a director when the original director (Gerard Depardieu) is fired
by the producer (Giancarlo Gianini). What makes it work is the cliché free storyline
and the snippets of the film they’re making, a science fiction spy movie in
the vein of Barbarella and Modesty Blaise, complete with white shag carpeting
and John Phillip Law! The other film I saw was Lovely & Amazing, the long awaited
follow-up to one of my favorite films, Walking & Talking. Whereas the first
film was about two mildly neurotic friends dealing the impending wedding of
one of them, this is about a family of four seriously fucked up women. The director,
Nicole Holofcener, came out afterwards for a Q&A and the worst thing about Q&A’s
is the need for people who don’t ask questions to speak out in depth on what
the film meant to them. Get a fucking life. While I’m sure the filmmaker is
actually somewhat interested in what effect the film had on the audience, I’m
sure even she shared my impatience with the 64-year-old stuttering man (I can
make fun of him because I stutter myself) who waxed on about how the film accurately
reflects the messiness of life.
SAY IT WITH ME: THEE-ATE-TAH
A few weeks ago, my sister’s ex-boyfriend was in town and wanted to know if
I wanted to see the play Topdog/Underdog with him. First of all, why the fuck
would I want to hang out with my sister’s ex-boyfriend under any circumstances?
Hell, even if they were still dating I would have blown him off. Secondly, I
don’t do theater. I’m three blocks away from every major show in New York and
I could care less. Only the presence of my roommate will get me in (well that
and deceit, as proved by the Artemensia play of a few months ago that I was
tricked into seeing). Well, the play my roommate was touring with finally returned
to New York last week and, of course, I had to see it. First, however, I had
to totally forget, so when she came home Friday night and asked, "Well did you
like it?" I suddenly realized why my evening had been so mysteriously wide open.
So, I had to buy another ticket for the show the next night. Thankfully, it
was good (Taming of the Shrew) and so was she (she was Bianca). I’m a lousy,
lousy liar, so I live in fear of seeing her in something that sucks or her in
a bad performance. I wouldn’t be able to hide it and she knows where I live
and where I keep my comic books. I’m passing on her in an adaptation of Mark
Twain’s "Puddin’head Wilson." First off, her part is small and secondly, stories
about race relations are only interesting to those people who don’t have to
live them.
AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON MUSIQ SOULCHILD…
Angie Stone sucks. Yeah, I know she got some good ink a few years back with
her first album as part of this whole "neo-soul" bullshit, but her new song
that uses the O’Jay’s "Back Stabbers" with her singing another melody on top
if it is shit. My definition of shit in music is simple: if I can do it, it
must be shit. I can sing on top of another song, so obviously it doesn’t take
any talent to do that. And this neo-soul shit is annoying me too. As far as
I can see it’s just evoking some bullshit retro-70’s sound and look and passing
it off as substance. That 70’s look works only in small doses or as a joke.
To live like that is just pathetic, because it’s far from low maintenance.
GOOD POP BANDS DON’T SOUND LIKE THE BEATLES; THEY SOUND LIKE BADFINGER
Entertainment Weekly is on my good side this week (after their dissing of Superboy
some weeks back) because they acknowledge Jellyfish’s first album "Bellybutton"
as a modern day classic. It’s the greatest album you’ve never heard. Pure pop.
Imagine Badfinger, The Beach Boys, Queen and even The Archies all combined into
one. They released just one more wonderfully made album ("Spilt Milk") and then
broke up. I have never fully recovered.
…FORM OF A PERVERT!
The Cartoon Network has a series of Adult Swim shows, which are, quite frankly,
cartoons for adults. On one of them, they take old, lesser characters and just
have fun with them. One is Harvey Birdman, where they take an old Hanna Barbera
superhero (Birdman) and make him into a lawyer. On the episode I saw Apache
Chief came to him because he’d spilled hot coffee in his lap and couldn’t grow
any more. "Not even in the mornings?" Harvey Birdman asked, letting you know
that "growing" joke was going to milked for all it was worth. During the trial
he called other heroes to the stand, including Black Vulcan and Zan of the Wonder
Twins. Black Vulcan complained that he was fired from the Super Friends because
he made too much noise about always being paired with a White Superfriend and
his name: "You think I called myself Black Vulcan? I called myself Super Volt.
It was Aquaman who chose Black Vulcan. So I said, ‘So why don’t we call you
Whitefish?’" Zan got fired because he turned himself into the water Wonder Woman
was bathing in. In the end, they formed a new supergroup called "Multicultural
Pals" whose membership somehow included Jesse Jackson. Apparently there’s another
episode where Race Bannon and Dr. Quest are in a custody battle over Johnny
Quest and Hadji and supposedly an upcoming episode wherein Shaggy & Scooby Doo
get busted for possession. And if you go to the Cartoon Network website, you
can see an updated anime version of the classic Hong Kong Phooey. Sigh. No geek
like an old geek.
PUT BOOZE IN ROOT BEER AND THEN YOU’LL HAVE ME
I’ve always liked those Mike’s Hard Lemonade commercials because they were just
so wrong with their jokes about being stabbed or losing a limb. Now, the Hard
Iced Tea commercials are just sick… and I love them! First there’s the one about
the invading aliens who steal women and then there’s the one about the evil
second head that grows out of a guy’s neck. I still won’t drink that swill,
but the commercials are great.
5/6/2002
"I’m not so think as you drunk I am."
--- Sir John Squire
IS HE STRONG/LISTEN, BUD/HE’S GOT RADIOACTIVE BLOOD…
Opening at an amazing, all-time number one is Spider-Man. Okay, I enjoyed it.
I admit it. Despite all the problems I had with it, overall I liked it. They
stuck to enough of the comic origins to make even an angry geek like me smile.
Okay, enough with that shit. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THE ORGANIC WEBBING!?!
PETER PARKER DOES NOT GENERATE WEBBING FROM HIS OWN BODY! This is some bullshit
left over from James Cameron’s idea for Spider-man a few years ago. It’s the
kind of shit that only someone who didn’t really love the character would like.
It’s also a sign of the insecurity of people involved. They’re pissing in a
soup they didn’t create and calling themselves chefs. They’re saying it only
makes sense he would have that ability as well as the others. Oh, really? Then
why isn’t it coming out of his ass, the way it would on a spider? And the overuse
of computer generated effects annoyed me too. It’s still too primitive to be
used to replace humans. There are times when Spider-man looks as jerky as King
Kong did back in 1933. I, for one, had no problem with the casting of Toby Maguire
as Spider-man, because Peter Parker is a dork, but the problem is Toby Maguire’s
voice coming out of Spider-man. That simply does not work. The rest of the casting
is fine. I even able to overlook the miscasting of Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane.
I still don’t understand hiring a blonde and dyeing her hair red, rather than
just hiring a redhead (evil bitches though they may be). William Dafoe as a
whacked out villain goes without saying. There’s even enough of a resemblance
between him and James Franco to make their father-son casting work.
YOU KNEW THE JOB WAS DANGEROUS WHEN YOU TOOK IT
The Scorpion King is down to number two and Michael Clarke Duncan is 6’4" and
325 pounds. That’s just wrong. As it turns out, before he made it, he was a
bodyguard and was scheduled to be with Biggie Smalls the night he was killed,
but had switched with a friend. As soon as he heard what happened, he called
an end to his bodyguard career. At this point, I’m amazed anyone would agree
to bodyguard a rapper, no matter what the pay. Talk about a moving target.
ETC.,
Changing Lanes holds at number three, followed by Murder By Numbers at four
and an equally surprising The Rookie at number four.
IN THE SEQUEL, SHE’S BAREFOOT AND PREGNANT
Life Or Something Like It is down to number six and there could be an entire
sub-genre of films about women being forced to choose between having a successful
career or being happy. They rarely ever coincide. Only in the 80’s could you
seemingly have both (can you say Working Girl?). Like most, this comes down
hard on the side of "if you don’t have a man and aren’t breeding, you’re a failure
as a woman." Not only does Angelina Jolie give up the job of a lifetime for
Ed Burns, but she publicly humiliates Stockard Channing for doing so, giving
her two movies this year where some young thing gives her shit for having balls
(Julia Stiles was the first in The Business of Strangers).
WHERE’S TONY? WHERE’S MARIA? WHY ARE WE IN BROOKLYN?
Deuce’s Wild opens at number seven and who the hell wants to see this? Gangs
in the 50’s? If they aren’t singing, I don’t want to know about it. And this
bullshit about one gang being good and one gang being bad just works my last
nerve. Either you’re a scumbag gang member or not. Trying to create degrees
of difference between them is like saying that the serial killer who only kills
young girls is better than the serial killer who kills and eats young girls.
You don’t want either one of them around if you can help it. Not even the presence
of Drea DeMatteo was enough to get me to even think about this movie. And few
things can overcome the noxious presence of Stephen Doriff to begin with.
AWAY WITH FALSE GODS
Ice Age is down to number eight and its reign as largest-grossing film of 2002
is just about over. Expect to see Spider-man surpass it in less than a week,
and then watch summer movies just kick the shit out it for the next three months.
Heh-heh-heh.
THE END
Finally, Panic Room closes out the top ten at number ten.
CREEPY, BUT TALENTED, OLD MAN
Not breaking the top ten is Hollywood Ending, the latest effort from Woody Allen,
who seems to be on a mission to crank out at least two half-assed comedies at
year before he dies. My beloved Debra Messing is in this, but the moment I discovered
she was playing this old bastard’s girlfriend, I knew I would never see it.
And honestly, who outside of the movie business cares about movies about the
movie business? To coincide with this opening, Woody Allen: A Life in Film aired
on Turner Classic Movies. This was the show wherein Mia Farrow demanded that
any footage of her be deleted. I got a kick out of that because it’s rare you
see an actor put dignity and self-respect before exposure. Also, she was sticking
it to his sorry ass and he knows it. I watched it because, after all, before
he revealed his creepy side (which he openly acknowledges, by the way), he was
a comedy god. I hate to admit it, but it was honestly very interesting and hearing
him talk about how much his first visit to Manhattan affected him to the point
where he knew he had to be live there struck home for me.
IS THIS WHAT "LOVE ME LIKE A RIVER" MEANS?
Also opening and not breaking the top ten is Warm Water Under A Red Bridge,
the new film from noted Japanese director, . It’s a low-key romantic comedy
about an unemployed architect who journeys to a small fishing town in search
of a treasure a recently deceased friend told him about. Instead of that treasure
he finds a woman who literally gushes gallons when she orgasms. Not that half-a-cupful
that real women do (never mind how I now), gallons. The resulting run-off leads
to better fishing for the town. No, I’m not kidding. This is the plot. This
is one of those movies you’d invite a girl to in college to make her think you’re
intellectual, when all you really want to do is shag her Sylvia Plath-reading
ass. But, of course, the joke was on you, because like 90% of all the women
in your freshman Intro To Film class, she too was sleeping with the pretty-boy
actor who was in the class because "he’d also like to direct" (by the way, I’ve
never taken a film class in my life). Like all comedies about small towns, there
is local populace of colorful characters, the funniest of which is a long-distance
runner from Africa, who jokes about winning the Olympics and using it to return
to Africa, be elected president, then slaughtering the other tribes. Had it
been half an hour shorter it might have worked, but leave it to an auteur to
take 120 minutes when 90 would do just fine. I saw this at The Japan Society,
a.k.a., ricebuster heaven. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that many loser
white guys with their Asian girlfriends. I even had one couple behind me. He
was an ugly English fucker, who kept talking to her during the film to show
that he got the Japanese jokes that everyone else missed. Let me tell you something
about these people who so willingly adopt another culture as their own. It means
they’re pretty much losers in their original cultures. You don’t see Bill Gates
or Tom Cruise going somewhere else. People who live in the palace rarely move
out. It’s you fuckers in the servants’ quarters that are hot to skip.
RETURN OF THE FAT GEEK
I must stop going to Magnolia Bakery. Anytime I’m downtown, I find myself over
there buying their amazing cupcakes. Butter, sugar and buttercream frosting.
Hell, I’m eating one as I write this and I’ve got two more waiting. I just keep
telling myself that they’re better for me than Krispy Kreme doughnuts. They
are in a way. They’re harder for me to get, so I eat less. Just not right now.
TOO OLD FOR THAT SHIT
So, I finally packed off my little twentysomething roommate back to Georgia,
and for all of you who gave me shit about it, I took her to dinner before she
left. Afterwards, I went CD hunting and took her with me, since she drove me
crazy by going to Virgin and paying those ungodly prices. Since she didn’t have
any cash on her and the store was about to close, I bought her the two CD’s
she wanted: Jessica Simpson and Britney Spears. Never ask me again why I don’t
date younger women. I won’t even get into how her perfumes and lotions all smelled
like candy.
NOW I HAVE TO GET TRON AND SOAPDISH AND…
So, I’m off the wagon completely now and am on a mission to get all the DVD’s
I’ve missed these last few months. Picked up this weekend were bad movie favorite,
The Temp, and The Batman Superman Movie, which is merely three a three-part
episode of the Superman animated series collected. The Temp I have no excuses
for. There was a time when I really liked Lara Flynn Boyle (before she bleached
away her freckles, lost a hundred pounds and fucked disgusting old men) and
for some reason that made me like this movie. For her, it was a step up, but
for Timothy Hutton and Faye Dunaway, it was another yet another step down. The
Superman Batman movie, however, is unconditionally great. It was a three part
episode entitled "World’s Finest" which, as all geeks know, was the title of
the comic where Superman and Batman teamed up every month, before revisionist
history (and Frank Miller) turned them into uneasy allies. The most notable
event that occurs is that Lois Lane starts dating Bruce Wayne and finds out
he’s Batman---while Clark Kent watches and slowly gets pissed. For those of
you who say Mark Hamill can’t act, you need to listen to his performance as
The Joker. He’s fucking great.
AND THEY SMELL BETTER
It’s no secret that I don’t have that many male friends. Considering I’m not
sleeping with any of them (well, maybe literally, but not figuratively), many
(i.e., men) don’t understand. Well, maybe this will make it clearer. Last week
both Miss Pretty Boy and Former Wild Child came over and either made or bought
me dinner. When was the last time a guy friend did that for you? Oh, sure, they’ll
split a pizza with you, but while I did my laundry, Miss Pretty Boy was cooking
up a storm. Needless to say, I can never tell my mother, because the whole "female
friend" thing already escapes her. One that makes me dinner would make her head
explode. Actually, it’s my head that would explode, because I would receive
weekly interrogations as to why I wasn’t marrying this woman and creating grandchildren.
Nor could she understand how, after dinner, Former Wild Child and I then spent
the next few hours watching only the hardest hardcore porn together (no love,
no plot---just humping). Or maybe she would. After all, I used to watch the
Playboy Channel with her. Former Wild Child could be her daughter-in-law of
choice.
ONLY THE GOOD DIE YOUNG
It was almost a hat trick with dead musicians. In addition to Lisa "Left Eye"
Lopes and the lead singer of Alice In Chains, Scott Stapp of Creed was in a
car accident that gave him a concussion. It figures. The least talented of the
three not only survives, but he’s breeding.
IT’S NOT SUPER "THE MAN"
Yes, I read the little whiny column in the Sunday New York Times about the dearth
of Black superheroes. Get a fucking life. The big problem with Black superheroes,
whether they’re written by bleeding heart liberal white guys or Black guys with
something to prove, is that they’re Black first and superheroes second. At least
the White writers have an excuse; they’re afraid to offend, the Black writers
have none. I haven’t read the comic mentioned about the witch doctor, but I
can promise you it sucks. The author’s stupid name and even more stupid attitude
("we need comics for the projects") guaranteed you that. All the creators of
the major comic heroes were Jewish, but you didn’t see them ruining their characters
by grinding some ax of oppression. Jerry Seigel and Joe Schuster didn’t make
Superman a hero for the lower east side, fighting anti-Semitism and that’s why
you know who he is and know nothing of Icon, who was essentially a Black superman
that DC Comics had a few years ago (he was an alien child whose lifepod crash
landed on Earth over a hundred years ago, and to save the child the pod caused
him to mimic the features of the first lifeform he encountered---which just
happened to be a slave).