10/27/2003 “Masturbation! The amazing
availability of it!”
--- James Joyce
WHAT’S REALLY SCARY IS THAT IT’S
THE THIRD, BUT NOT THE LAST
Scary Movie 3 opens big at number
one this week and while none of them have been all that funny (repeat
after me: The Wayans Brothers are not funny), this is a noticeable
improvement over the second one, which was just flat out horrific. The
Wayans are gone this time around, which is always a good thing, as their
tendency to go straight for the lowest common denominator has always been
a liability in their attempts to do this type of Airplane humor (they
got it right once with I’m Gonna Get You Sucka). This time they went straight
to the source, getting director David Zucker, part of the Zucker Abrams,
Zucker team who made Airplane, Hot Shots and the Naked Gun. And he brought
with him Pat Proft who co-wrote a few of those, as well as stars Charlie
Sheen and Leslie Nielsen. But in an obvious awareness of the core fanbase
of Scary Movie, the movie is packed full of B-list Black actors, comedians
and a ton of A-list rappers. But if you’re looking for that scene in the
trailers with Queen Latifah and Eddie Griffin, it’s not here. They’re
here, but in a completely different scene. In fact at least half-a-dozen
scenes from the commercial didn’t make the final cut (most of which was
Matrix-based). I hate that shit. It’s so obviously meant to force people
to either buy or rent the DVD. This time around, the primary targets are
Signs, The Ring and oddly enough, 8 Mile. Some of works, most of it does
not (Zucker, Abrams, Zucker were obviously the primary writers, while
Proft is probably to blame for all the weaker jokes we’ve seen for the
last 20 years). Let face it: when your first big laugh is generated by
dogs dressed up in costumes, you know you’re in trouble. But I have to
give them points for the ruthless Michael Jackson joke. It’s about time.
Also, the rap showdown had some pretty funny moments.
SAY IT LOUD! I’M RETARDED AND…HE
WAS MASTURBATING! BEANS AND FRANKS!
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is
down to number two followed by Radio, which opens at number three and
apparently Hollywood has decided to combine its two favorite lovable characters:
lovable retards and Black People Who Love To Help Whitey. Yes, this topic
makes me especially bitter and not simply because I’m retarded. No, wait.
I’m Black. Yes, I know it’s a true story, but that only makes it even
more annoying, because it denies you the ability to hate it as purely
as you might like. Besides, in real life, the mentally disabled are hardly
warm and cuddly and frankly, we Black people hate to help Whitey. We hate
it! In fact, at the meeting last night (because we all know each other)
it was decided not enough was being done to bring The Man down. The plot
to disable The White Man’s children by tricking them into acting like
rap thugs doesn’t seem to be working. And this won’t win Cuba Gooding
Jr. any more fans (assuming that he still has any). He must have signed
an amazing deal with Satan, because he’s still headlining major movies,
while so many other more deserving stars are doing made-for-cable fare.
HE WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER OFF
AT THE TONTO SCHOOL OF SIDEKICKS
Runaway Jury is down to number
four and apparently there’s a rider in any contract Jon Cusack signs that
insists that Jeremy Piven be given a role as well, because they are both
in this. They actually met as kids in Chicago in an acting class being
taught by Piven’s parents. He’s usually Cusack’s sidekick and rightly
so. His one attempt at a lead was the short-lived show, Cupid about a
guy who thought he was the Greek god Cupid and his therapist/eventual
love interest. It did have it’s moments, but was limited by two things:
1) the premise, which refused to confirm if he was either insane or actually
Cupid, who had been exiled to Earth by Zeus until he matched 100 couples.
One is cute, while the other, when actually explored, was a bit sad and
weird, not to mention disturbing; 2) Piven himself. Hello? You can work
out all you want to, and be as quick witted as you want to, but no one
thinks of some bald guy when they think “God of Love.” Not to mention
he kind of looks like a frog.
THE RIVER OF MY HATE HAS NO END
Mystic River a.k.a., Oscar Bait,
holds at number five this week, followed by School of Rock at number six,
starring a another alumnus of the Piven School for Children, John’s sister
Joan Cusack. Ironically, Jack Black played what would have been the Jeremy
Piven role in High Fidelity. And even more irony, I would have actually
preferred Jeremy Piven here instead of Jack Black. Yes, I’m going to go
on about how annoying I find this man every week until this movie is gone.
I’M WAITING ON MY ENTER THE DRAGON
BOXER SHORTS
Kill Bill Vol. 1 is down to number
seven and according to both Entertainment Weekly the Bruce Lee-based motorcycle
suit Uma is wearing has become a hot new fashion trend. Even my Surrogate
Sister bought herself a pair of the sneakers Uma’s wearing and felt the
need to call and tell me about it. She was also deliberately annoying
(in the way only little sisters can be) by constantly referring to them
as “Kill Bill” shoes instead of “Bruce Lee” shoes.
HEY, MORON MONEY IS STILL MONEY
Good Boy is down to number eight,
followed by Intolerable Cruelty at number nine and they missed a great
opportunity to widen their audience for this by not including Cedric The
Entertainer in the commercials. This would have brought in an audience
that normally would never have seen a Coen Brothers’ film (i.e., really
dumb Black people). He’s in the movie just as much as Billy Bob Thornton
(which is to say, barely above cameos for the both of them) and damn sure
has a bigger audience (lots a dumb people in every ethnic group). Also,
don’t blink or you’ll miss cult fave Bruce Campbell in a small role.
NO, SHE WAS NOT IN THE JOY LUCK
CLUB
Finally, Under The Tuscan Sun
closes out the top ten at number ten and co-starring in this is Sandra
Oh, who’s been a personal favorite of mine since a small film called Double
Happiness. Granted, she sold a bit of her soul playing Rita Wu on the
horrific Arliss for six years, but she’s far from pretty, so the choices
open to say, Kelly Hu aren’t exactly open to her. Nobody’s casting her
as the “Hot Asian Girl” anytime soon, as only your most diehard ricebusters
are going to think she’s attractive. Let’s hope it’s actual love between
her and director Alexander Payne (Election, About Schmidt), but he’s a
White boy from Nebraska, so he probably does think she’s hot. She was
also in that movie about strippers with Daryl Hannah, and you can’t imagine
which one you’d rather see naked less. Skin and bones everywhere, but
not an ass or breast to be found anywhere. Ugh.
RULE #287: DEATH AND FOREIGN LANDS
AREN’T ALWAYS ROMANTIC
Not even breaking the top ten
is Beyond Borders. Geez. Under The Tuscan Sun made more money after a
month of release in fewer theaters than this. It’s yet another bad movie
with Angelina Jolie and the second one this year alone. Let’s face it:
she just looks like a movie star, because god knows she’s done nothing
to deserve being one. Okay, so she’s got an Oscar. Guess what? Girl, Interrupted
wasn’t a hit either. She’s standing next to George Clooney in that line
of people who are stars, but have no hits to back them up (and like George
Clooney, it’s a movie with two great looking leads). It’s a shame too,
because I’m looking for Clive Owen to break through and fulfill his movie
star destiny. For those of you who don’t know, he’s “The Driver” from
those BMW commercials. It opened at less than 2000 theaters, which for
a studio release is a good sign they know it’s crap. But don’t worry;
it should be on video next week for you to see. I don’t even know who
thought this was a good idea even in the planning stage. Who wants to
see a romantic drama about the miserable life in Third World countries?
It’s kinda hard to be concerned about the romance when there’s a starving
baby laying between them. Doesn’t matter how pretty they are. But they
are damn pretty. Maybe Owen will have better luck next year when he plays
King Arthur with Keira Knightly as his Guinevere (Ioan Gruffud of Horatio
Hornblower will be Lancelot), but with him as Arthur it’s gonna be kinda
hard to explain why Guinevere cheats on him.
2003: THE BEST CELEBRITY DEATH
YEAR EVER!
You’re all going to die this year.
Get used to it. This week saw the end of Fred “Rerun” Berry, Jack Elam
and another member of the Cash family. Damn. High and low, they are all
dropping like flies. Yes, I know singer/songwriter Elliot Smith is dead
too, but killed himself, which doesn’t count. And it’s not really much
of a surprise. Anyone whose Academy Award nominated song is called “Miss
Misery” is obviously not a happy man.
VIVA LAS VEGAS
So I went on a brief vacation
to the great American west. I mean, Las Vegas counts as the west, right?
Yes, Vegas, baby. It was my first time and like most of my vacations outside
of my home, it never would have happened unless I was pushed. In this
case, it was guilt because my brother and his wife actually got me a ticket
that was going to expire soon. I couldn’t live with that, so off I went.
They live in Arizona, but we decided to meet in Vegas. As it turns out,
rates during the week on the strip are relatively cheap. But it’s better
than you realize. No, not for you people, just us. As it turns out, they
ran out of the room that reserved and so we were upgraded: to a Marquis
suite. You can see it here (http://www.mgmgrand.com/pages/accommodations.asp)
but let me describe it anyway: double doors at the end of the hallway,
leading into a living room with a bar, on which either side sat a bedroom
with a full bathroom for each. My bedroom was actually larger than theirs,
and my bathroom had a shower and a tub. On the other hand, their bathroom
had the Jacuzzi in lieu of the shower, so they got the better end of the
deal. We were only in Vegas one night, but it was one night that ruined
me, as I stayed in a room better than my apartment and more than I could
ever afford on my own. How can I stay down on the farm now that I’ve seen
Pa-ree? Okay, so I live in Manhattan anyway, but you see my point. I don’t
live well in Manhattan. In fact, I barely survive. For one night, I saw
what it was like to semi-live (real living, of course being done on the
top floor suites). I arrived in Vegas at midnight, so of course, as soon
as we put my bags down, we were out the door and into the streets. First,
we had to visit the old Vegas, known as “Glitter Gulch” which is now covered
up and technically indoors. It was so sad. The ceiling light show wasn’t
working, that famous cowboy had one eye blacked out and I think the woman
in front of that strip bar wasn’t even a woman. Then we visited New York,
New York, Excalibur and Luxor, which has the sphinx and the pyramid. And
here’s the thing about Vegas hotels: only the decor changes. After that,
it’s just another casino. Granted, with places like The Bellagio, The
Venetian and the Aladdin, they have shows, clubs and malls within them,
and usually follow a theme (The Venetian has a canal with gondolas and
singing gondoliers), but ultimately, it’s all the same. My sister-in-law
sacked out after the Egyptian place, so it was just my brother and I to
finish walking the strip at night. We got as far as The Bellagio before
calling it a night. I managed to get some good use out of the little digital
video camera I bought on ebay. The next day we hit the strip again, but
this time taking the time to explore some of each hotel. Seeing the lions
at the MGM Grand where we stayed (they are direct descendants of the original
MGM lion), the atrium at the Bellagio (the dancing waters don’t come until
nightfall), the white tigers at the Mirage (where we also visited the
impromptu shrine to Siegfried and Roy and mocked it thoroughly), St. Mark’s
square at The Venetian, the forum shops at Caesars where we rode the brief,
but entertaining “Race For Atlantis” and saw the gigantic Trojan Horse
at FAO Schwartz, and learned the finer points of Blackjack at Paris, which
is admittedly, a very stunning recreation of Paris, France (not that I’ve
ever been there). After milling about a few casinos, we finally decided
to do our gambling in the MGM Grand. We’d fucked around on machines all
day with mixed results, but how can you really gamble with a computer?
I was the first to take the plunge, settling at roulette wheel. I was
actually looking at Blackjack, but it required entirely too much thinking
on my part for me to enjoy it. Roulette is all about luck and probability,
baby. Very little thinking. So it became my choice. The guy running it
was Toby from Jersey, and he was kind enough to explain it all to me.
It took a few tries, but once I got the hang of it, it was great. I turned
$40 into $120 and then finally into $106 before cashing out, but now I
can’t wait to try it again. Atlantic City may be in my immediate future.
I’d made a promise to Bad Influence back in New York that I’d go by the
Star Trek Experience so I did, but there was no way in hell I was paying
$30 to ride it. Sorry, but there’s a reason I’m king of the geeks and
not just another one of them. Nonetheless, my brother and sister-in-law
were so taken with the overwhelming geekiness of the place that they decided
we should eat at Quark’s. Sigh. It was what you would expect. Dishes named
after Star Trek characters (my brother enjoyed “The Wrap of Kahn”) waitstaff
forced to wear ill-fitting costumes and out of work actors wandering around
in costumes and speaking to guests in character. Not to mention, a big
screen TV showing old episodes of Star Trek---before switching to a new
episode of the abysmal Enterprise (which I insisted we watch until the
end, thus making two whole episodes of that shitty show that I’ve seen).
After the meal, we left Vegas for Arizona, passing through the still interesting
at night, Hoover Dam. The next day in Arizona was spent recovering from
being up all night after a five-hour drive, so we didn’t leave the house
once. The day after was only slightly different as temperatures prevented
an attempt to climb Camelback Mountain (why is it every time I go out
west people try to make me fucking hike?), so we saw a movie, bought so
books then returned to the air conditioned comfort of two pinball tables,
brownies, rice krispie treats, chips & dip and grilled steaks. We were
so lazy, we didn’t even go in their pool. But that’s what vacations are
to me. Gettin’ fat in a comfortable setting. And I was out of there the
very next morning on the 8:50 nonstop back to JFK. Wham, bam, I love Vegas!
TV: MY BEST FRIEND, MY WORST ENEMY
Because we refused to leave the
house, I was forced to watched numerous episodes of Elimidate which they
love in all its sick glory. If you think your life is bad, just watch
one episode of those losers and you’ll change your mind. It single handedly
justifies my staying at home alone and reading comic books. Those people
are horrid. They should all be sterilized to prevent their breeding. That
experience was washed clean with my rediscovery of South Park. I gave
it up years ago, after wasting thirty minutes of my life literally watching
a piece of shit jump around for Christmas. That was it for me. It’s amazing,
but it’s still funny and still manages to shock you. But the “They Killed
Kenny” joke seems to be retired, thank god (apparently they killed him
once for good, but ultimately brought him back). Also, Mr. Garrison is
out of the closet and has a boyfriend called “Mr. Slave” whom he leads
around on a leash. One episode mocked the whole Queer Eye For The Straight
Guy/metrosexual fad and the other was all about the character of Butters
and more than once my jaw dropped at the shit that popped up onscreen.
I’ve come home.
10/20/2003
“The pleasure and act of love is gross and brief and brings loathing after it.” ---Gaius Petronicus
HOT BABE + CHAINSAW = TWO HOT BABES
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre opens at number one and as we all know, I don’t do the scary. I’ve never seen the original (I’ve a list of distinguished films I’ve never seen and will never see and this isn’t even near the top; that spot belongs to It’s A Wonderful Life) and if I saw one I would have had to see the other. Needless to say that’s not going to happen. If only Jessica Biel wonderfully, wonderfully filling out a wife-beater (tied up, no less) and tight, hip hugging jeans could have been in a different film. Let me put it this way: the pool scene in the otherwise abysmal Summer Catch happens at approximately eight minutes in. There are prettier girls in the world, yes, but you’d be hard pressed to find those better proportioned. Nothing is too big or too small. If she had a prettier face she’d be almost perfect. What was I talking about again? Oh, yeah. I’m not seeing a movie about a guy chainsawing people so he can eat them and wear their skin, I don’t care how beautifully shot it is. And it does look great. I can tell that even from the trailer. It looks amazing, but my answer is still “no.” Besides, both the evil Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer had something to do with this and that’s reason enough to boycott it.
AIN’T GONNA BE NO SPLASH SEQUEL NEITHER
Kill Bill is down to number two and I sincerely hope that none of the actors involved think this will lead to a Travolta-type resurgence for them. Yes, Vivica, I’m talking to you. You’d best say “yes” to Booty Call 2, because no serious director is going to be calling anyone who shows up looking like the cheapest video hootchie on the arm of 50 Cent. Same for Daryl Hannah, whose Playboy layout was simply sad. Eat a sandwich and drop those panties, honey. Nobody is paying $7 an issue to see a too-skinny, middle-aged blonde just go topless. Only Uma Thurman holds on to her A-list status because of this (but her soon to be ex-husband can surely kiss it goodbye). Though oddly enough, even though he’s unseen for the entire film (his face is only seen in the commercials) as the title character of Bill, David Carradine does convey more gravity with just his voice than he’s ever done before. Then again, daddy John was no slouch. He may get a boost from this. But when you’re rock bottom any work is a boost. But for god’s sake, no more sequels to Kung Fu. That new series was horrible, though I’m sure it paid for his house.
I’M OUT OF ORDER, YOU’RE OUT OF ORDER…
Runaway Jury opens at number three and I’ve never read a John Grisham book in my life and pretty much strive to avoid any film based on his work. Nothing so many people like so much can possible any good. And it’s the wrong people who like it. It’s that Bridges of Madison County type of “literature” to me. In any case, this held no interest for me at all because, quite frankly, I find courtroom drama hardly that. They’re as clichéd as horror films without even the cheap thrills or the occasional nudity. You always have the evil moneyed firm (or nasty politically motivated prosecutor) versus the poor, single lawyer and guess who wins? The Verdict, with Paul Newman as that poor lawyer, was the last of this type that I saw and enjoyed. And frankly, I’m sick of seeing fucking Gene Hackman as the evil asshole in every other film. It’s like he and Robert Duvall can’t take a fucking day off. They’ve entered the Michael Caine stage of their career where they’re in damn near every film that comes out. And then I have to hear his voice in commercials too. How much money do you need?
OBVIOUSLY SOMEONE SKIPPED THE SCHOOL OF SCREENWRITING
School of Rock is down to number four and apparently there was a scene where Joan Cusack and Jack Black do kiss, but was dropped because there was no payoff of the relationship later. Well, here’s a fucking clue: WRITE ONE! This is so unbelievably stupid because the script contains so many instances of there being a relationship between the two---actually leading to the development of her character, no less---so why the hell wouldn’t you just take that to its logical conclusion? Oh, that’s right, we might have to give up any of the annoying, seemingly endless scenes of Jack Black mugging. There was also a scene with the much funnier Amy Sedaris cut, because god fucking forbid people who can be funny without being annoying be seen.
AND THIS RIVER RUNS STRAIGHT TO OSCAR
Mystic River moves into the top ten at number five this week and I may never see this because it just screams “Big Dramatic Film” at me and that’s annoying. Not to mention it’s over two hours long. I hate Oscar bait. Besides I’m no fan of Clint Eastwood’s very dry direction. I may despise all the MTV graduates like Michael Bay and David Fincher, but Eastwood is the other extreme where there’s nothing going on onscreen but what’s onscreen. This is fine when you’ve got action going on. It really doesn’t need much help. But when it’s just two people staring at each other, something else is needed. It’s like he’s filming a play at times, but without the energy you get from a live performance. Not that I attend live performances of my own free will.
I DON’T HAVE ANY HITS EITHER, AM I A SUPERSTAR?
Good Boy is down to number six, followed by Intolerable Cruelty at number seven and this disappointment isn’t really surprise if you look back at the career of George Clooney. His films simply don’t make money. His biggest hits were A Perfect Storm , which had the benefit of being a bestselling book (not to mention the storm was the actual star; just check the poster) and Ocean’s 11, which had Julia Roberts and Matt Damon in it. Two people who’d carried films on their own, something Clooney has never really done. Oh, you can say O’ Brother Where Are Thou, but it was successful for an art film and didn’t even make double its production costs. Other than that, it’s simply been middling film after middling film. Three Kings, Out of Sight, Confessions of A Dangerous Mind; all well-reviewed, but ultimately disappointing (and we won’t even get into Solaris). Why is this man an A-list star? Don’t get me wrong. I like him, but he and Brad Pitt are mysteries to me, because they’ve got nothing really to support their status any longer (Brad hasn’t starred in a successful film since se7en, back in 1995). There’s a reason they’re both making Ocean’s 12. It’ll be the first hit either one has had since Ocean’s 11.
BESIDES, PRETTY MEN ARE USUALLY GAY
Out of Time is down to number eight, followed by Under The Tuscan Sun at number nine and if you haven’t seen the Raoul Bova (ironically known as the Brad Pitt of Italy, though I hope he has more financial success) Gap commercial, it can be found here: http://www.gap.com/asp/shops/gap/mfalltv.asp?wdid=10 In the immortal words of Wesley Snipes from New Jack City to pretty boy Christopher Williams, “Never liked you anyway, pretty muthatfucka.” Right after he stabbed him in the hand! A scene celebrated by ugly men worldwide. We’re gonna get all you pretty boys one day! Soon as I finish this grilled cheese sandwich, washed down by a glass of chocolate milk.
THE MARKETING DEPARTMENT NEEDS THE PEOPLE’S ELBOW TO THE THROAT
Finally, The Rundown closes out the top ten at number ten and since this entire top ten is referencing itself over and over, it only makes sense this film was released by Universal, because they were the same morons who decided to release George Clooney’s Out of Sight, so obviously a Fall film in the middle of summer. This is so obviously a summer film and they released it in the fall. Dumbasses.
HERE’S ANOTHER JOKE: AL B. SURE
I actually sat through Saturday Night Live for Halle Berry and just the sight of her thighs in the Donatella Versace sketch was worth it. The show was as forgettable as always, but I loved the Best of Klymaxx skit because I loved Klymaxx back in the day, if only for one song: “The Men All Pause.” And you have to have the seven minute version. They even took a shot at Ashford and Simpson later, with a small joke about Cameo. Man, was it break on 80’s R&B or what? I’m surprised The Gap Band wasn’t brought in too. Britney’s lip-sync was simply sad. She needs to be as naked as possible and kiss as many women as possible to keep interest in her career if that’s all she’s got.
“IN BRIGHTEST DAY, IN DARKEST NIGHT…”
In case you didn’t know, there’s a new Duck Dodger in the 24th 1/2 Century series on The Cartoon Network. Now, I normally can’t abide Daffy Duck without Bugs Bunny (it’s like watching Jack Black), so I only watched it for the first time this weekend and was laughing before the credits ended---because they were being sung by fucking Tom Jones! It’s the same old shtick of Daffy as the dumbass captain, but this episode was special because he accidentally got a Green Lantern uniform and ring and joined the Green Lantern Corps. If you don’t know who that is, suffice it to say that Green Lantern is a comic book hero dating back to the 40’s who has a magic ring that can do anything (it’s charged in a green lantern). He was revamped in the 50’s to be based on the Lensman series of science fiction books to now be part of an intergalactic police force, all of whom were given rings and lanterns and sections of the universe to protect. What made this super-geek-alicious was that you saw the whole fucking corps from the comic books. And at the end you saw Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern of Earth. What makes this doubly important to geeks is that in the 90’s, in a nadir of creative energy, it was decided that Hal Jordan would suddenly went crazy, killed the entire corps and then use their power to try and destroy the entire universe (he actually succeeded, kinda). He was later killed (twice) and became the new Spectre (no, I’m not explaining that character too). For a geek it was seeing them all alive again (and Hal good) for the first time in years.
STAR OF SUCH FINE FILMS AS HUNG JURY, HONEYWOOD AND COMING ON AMERICA
Celebrity sightings are down but oddly enough I’ve seen both John Glover and John Shea. John Glover currently plays Lex Luthor’s father on Smallville, while John Shea played Lex Luthor on Lois & Clark. Saw that ugly bastard Adam Goldberg, who like most actors is skinnier than you expect, and the ex-Mr. Jennifer Garner, Scott Foley, but the only star of importance to me I’ve seen recently was porn star Heather Hunter standing in from of a bar called “1020” near my house. She was never the prettiest porn star ever, but she was the only real Black one and she had a seriously nice body (disproportionately large, real breasts and a flat, chiseled stomach). Plus she was straight up Bronx and you know how I love my B&T girls. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her. In my third and final visit ever to a strip club, I saw her dance and she took a picture on my lap, sans clothing (her, not me). I’d have posted it, but much to my surprise, when I got the photo back, I learned she had her legs spread. Besides, I seem to have lost it, damnit.
FORGET BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, NOW IT’S CINDY ON THE $100 BILL!
With Sex & The City all but gone, When Supermodels Roamed the Earth on VH1 made my Sunday night. Watching crazy, rapidly deteriorating Janice Dickinson insist she was the first supermodel was hysterical. And wrong. Technically, it was Twiggy, who became world-famous simply for being a model, but it was Lauren Hutton who first got a million dollars for being a model, so you could also say it was her. Either way, it wasn’t Janice Dickinson. There were only seven or eight real supermodels during the 80’s heyday. Your first clue was you only needed their first name: Christy, Naomi, Cindy, Claudia, Linda, Elle, Stephanie and Paulina (maybe Tatjana, maybe). These were the real supermodels. If you weren’t in that Herb Ritts photo or the George Michael video, you were not a supermodel. Not on the best day of her life was Veronica Webb a supermodel. They were all being called that when she was at her peak. And while I hate to admit it, Kate Moss did actually join their club as the exception that proves the rule. I was a little disappointed that Gia, who actually kinda gave birth to Cindy wasn’t mentioned but it was only an hour and it was centered in the 80’s. Not to mention, Christy (now Mrs. Ed Burns), Linda and Claudia weren’t interviewed. And nothing in particular killed the era of supermodels (though there is something to be said about movie stars being glamorous). It was a byproduct of something I like to call THE 80’S. When they ended, the supermodels time was all but over. Well, as over as incredibly beautiful women can ever be over. And I’ll say it one more time: Cindy Crawford was the supermodel for me. When I’m king she’s going on the money.
AND THIS WEEK I HAVE TO BUY THE INDIANA JONES TRILOGY
So, because of Kill Bill, I had to make some new additions to my DVD collection. First I had to get Bruce Lee: Way of the Warrior, which was a documentary on Bruce Lee that ran on AMC about and year ago and was notable for having all the footage shot for Game of Death and assembled according to Bruce Lee’s notes. It’s much, much better than that shit in the Game of Death film that was released. It only had 15 minutes. This is twice that amount. Then I had to get the 10th Anniversary edition of Ninja Scroll, one of the best ever anime films. Hell, I don’t own Akira and I own this. Normally, I don’t get sucked into the anniversary edition rip-offs, but this edition finally had it widescreen, so I had to get it (besides, I’m selling the old one on eBay along with a bunch of other crap). I also picked up the special Criterion edition of In The Mood For Love, but not because of Kill Bill, but because Movie Buddy ’98 told me that the cinematographer for Lost in Translation was told to watch it and it suddenly dawned on me just how fucking beautiful that film was. I never bought it before because I knew there were sex scenes filmed that didn’t show up on the disc (the movie is about a love that is never consummated, not even with a kiss) and that just annoyed me. After all, the purpose of DVD is to show all the directions not taken. As it turns out, there is a sex scene on the DVD, though not the type I’d have liked. Still, it works because there is so much longing gone on in the film, if I didn’t see some sort of relief, I wouldn’t be able to watch it again. There’s also an alternate ending and a deleted scene set in the 70’s (the movie takes place in Hong Kong in the 60’s), which was justifiably left on the cutting room floor. Needless to say, I also bought The Matrix Reloaded. This brings our DVD total up to (drum roll, please) 273 (not counting the porn). And I’ve yet to pick up The Lion King.
10/13/20/2003
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” --- Genghis Kahn
BUT WHERE’S JIM KELLY?
Kill Bill Volume 1 opens at number one and I’d forgotten just how unashamedly derivative Quentin Tarantino is. Granted, he proudly announces just where he took everything for his films, but it doesn’t make the experience any less of a flashback and more of an original experience for the knowing viewer. If you don’t know his sources, I ‘m sure you’ll have a great time, but even while I did enjoy it, I couldn’t help but think of the originals, which is very distracting from the viewing experience. And it’s non-stop. Hell, he even references himself at times. First there’s the plot of woman seeking revenge for her husband being killed at the wedding. That’s Francois Truffaut’s The Bride Wore Black. Then she’s a criminal left for dead seeking revenge, which is Lee Marvin from Point Blank. Her yellow motorcycle outfit is Bruce Lee’s tracksuit from Game of Death. Sonny Chiba (as swordmaker Hanzo) is a 70’s martial arts legend, thanks to his Streetfighter series. Gordon Liu (as Johnny Mo) is another martial arts legend, having starred in the classic Master Killer a.k.a., The 36th Chamber and coming from a family of martial arts filmmakers. David Carradine (as Bill) is of course the star of the late, great, Kung-Fu. Chiaki Kuriyama was the star of a controversial Japanese film called Battle Royal where a group of ninth graders are put on an island by the government and forced to battle to the death, hence the in-joke of her schoolgirl uniform. The first few bars of the “Theme From Ironside” is used to set off every revenge moment Uma Thurman has. The anime sequence (yes, at one point it literally becomes the cartoon it’s pretending to be) is done by Production I.G. who worked on films like Ghost In The Shell, Jin-Roh and Mobile Police Patlabor. And it goes on and on and on. That aside, it is a big, fun, rollercoaster cartoon action film, whose deliberate post-modernism manages to give it a hip, indie, art film cache. And while I was as hesitant as anyone else about splitting the movie in two, it works much better here than in The Matrix Reloaded. Though Uma Thurman is every inch the stiff-ass White girl as Keanu was the stiff-ass White boy.
IF THE CLASS IS A ROCKIN’, DON’T BOTHER KNOCKIN’
School of Rock is down to number two and the more I think about this movie the more disappointing it becomes to me. It’s as safe and generic as a family film but without any hint of an attempt at being heartwarming and you have to have heartwarming to be a family film! And what is this shit of Jack Black suddenly being a star. Hell, Rob Schneider had so-so success too, but he ain’t no star neither. And have I mention just how much I’m bothered by this ugly, fat, now-balding, bastard dating Laura Kightlinger?
JUST REMEMBER: SON OF SAM THOUGHT HIS DOG COULD TALK
Good Boy opens at number three and I rue the day computer animation made it possible to simulate animals talking, because these fucking movies just won’t stop. For one Babe, we get dozens of others like this, that are obviously bereft of any sort of imagination and are ride simply on the gimmick of “Hey, that dog is talking!” And nothing annoys me more than jokes about how someone seemingly on the bottom is actually running things. I hate that crap when comedians do it about women (yeah, sure you’re running the world; you’re just choosing to be oppressed) and I hate it in this movie when the dog says, “You don’t see us picking up their poop.” Yeah, well I don’t see you castrating humans either. What a stupid, lame joke. I can’t tell you just how fucking much I hate it.
PRETTY AS THEY WANNA BE
Intolerable Cruelty opens at number four, giving us no less than two auteur directors releasing films at the same time. This time it’s the Cohen Brothers getting as close to mainstream as they can get. I wasn’t the fan of O Brother Where Art Thou that others were and my big problem was George Clooney. Despite being a Kentucky native, I didn’t buy him in the role. He’s just too urbane. This role of the world’s greatest divorce attorney, however, fits him like the nice suits he’s wearing throughout. And he’s perfectly matched with Catherine Zeta Jones as his love interest/rival (as opposed to the horse-ferret that is Julia Roberts). They actually have chemistry, something not seen with Clooney since JLo. This is what we want from movies: pretty stars looking good together. But while Catherine Zeta-Jones is beautiful, they need to stay away from full body shots of her. She never had an ass and now, post-baby, that waist is gone and never coming back. You can’t exactly sell her as the perfect woman any more. Not that she ever was to me. I still see her as Maura Tierney’s prettier, but less-interesting sister. The movie doesn’t have the breadth or scope of a real Cohen Brothers film (mainly because they didn’t write it originally), so it’s a far cry from the magnificent piece of work that was Raising Arizona (“Her womb was a rocky crag where my seed could find no purchase.”), but it’s not bad at all.
EVERYBODY’S DOING IT
Out of Time is down to number five and given that Denzel Washington views his marriage vows more as marriage “suggestions” (and that they were in Florida, where people are given to sin) just which of his two leading ladies do we think he’s slept with, if not both? Sanaa Lathan or Eva Mendes? Sanaa is supposedly dating Omar Epps, but he ain’t no Deznel. Likewise, Eva Mendes is dating a complete nobody and given that she’s indicated a large predisposition for shallow behavior (not to mention being a freaking moron), she is the more likely suspect. Or did Dean “Lucky To Be Working” Cain supply all stud duties on-set? He was pretty once and is at least within a decade of both actresses’ age (Denzel will be 50 next year). Notice how I don’t think for one second anyone was even remotely faithful.
HOUSE OF DEAD MOVIE IDEAS
House of the Dead opens at number six and while I dislike the scary, this hardly qualifies being based on a video game where you shoot zombies. If that wasn’t a hint, then the ad campaign featuring DMX’s “Up In Here” and showing you people jumping eight feet in the air and firing shotguns should have sealed it for you. The most notable aspect of this film I can find is that one of its writers did a film called Free Enterprise, about two geeks who meet William Shatner. He cast Eric McCormack as himself. Uh-huh. Sorry, but only if Will ate Grace, Karen and Jack would he come close to being like that fat geek.
YOU AIN’T ED BURNS, BUDDY
The Rundown is down to number seven and pig-faced director Peter Berg is dating 14-years-his-junior, Estella Warren, which makes sense if you’ve ever seen this asshole interviewed. He’s the kind of guy who reads Maxim and likes himself very much, though incredibly unjustified. You how he thinks he’s hot shit for dating a model, but it never dawns on him that it’s just Estella Warren. I appreciate The Last Seduction more and more because I get to watch him get played big time. Not to mention that at just $40M this has only made half its budget back. Yes, I hate this guy.
“TEMPTED, BUT THE TRUTH IS DISCOVERED…”
Under the Tuscan Sun is down to number eight and. Raoul Bova, the male love interest in this may be my new man-crush, but oddly enough, not from this film. I mean, he looks great in it, especially when he’s standing on the Italian coast, clad head-to-toe in white linen. But my man-crush comes from his appearance in that Gap commercial set to Squeeze’s “Tempted.” Yes, that is him, looking like how every man would like to look. I mean, I was unshaven this weekend, wearing a green t-shirt and jeans, but I damn sure didn’t look the way he does in the exact same clothing. See, that’s the devious effectiveness of advertising. He’s wearing the most basic of all fucking clothing and looks like a million bucks. You buy those exact same things and look like short, sloppy, drab dork who forgot to shave.
BENEATH MY NOTICE
Secondhand Lions is down to number nine followed by Lost In Translation, holding steady at number ten.
THAT TIME OF THE MONTH
Yes, it’s time again to show you what you miss by being such cheap fucks that you can’t spring to see me actually published in CMJ: New Music Monthly. I mean, you even get a free cd. Sorry Britney and Pink aren’t on it, but I swear everyone is playing their own instruments.
“Black” comedies usually fail for one of either two reasons: a) they can’t follow through on the “black” or b) they can’t follow through on the comedy, which is the flaw with Buffalo Soldiers, an attempted black comedy about bored and corrupt soldiers in West Germany in 1989. It was delayed for obvious reasons after 9/11 and even now faces the label of “controversial” even though everything it depicts has been covered in other, better films. They get the “black” down with nothing less than three gruesome deaths in the first half hour and all of them funny. But after that it just descends into this rather heavy-handed statement against the military. Yawn. The only consistent satire to be found is in Ed Harris’s portrayal of dim colonel who’d rather be running a vineyard. Whenever he’s not onscreen the film suffers, as we’re left with the charismatically and aesthetically challenged (River Phoenix took all the looks that family had with him into the grave) lead, Joaquin Phoenix as a heroin producing supply officer out to take everything that’s not nailed down. When Scott Glenn appears as---shocker---a hard-nosed military man out to clean it all up, Phoenix finds his cozy little set-up in jeopardy. Anna Paquin plays his daughter who is---shocker---rebellious and is quite happy to take up with Phoenix (giving us one of those really unattractive couplings indie film just so loves). A better, smarter film would have made more of the film’s conceit which is epitomized by the Nietzsche quote that opens the film “Where there is peace, the warlike man attacks himself.” By showing up, Scott Glenn actually gives Phoenix and his pals the war they’ve been missing. A wittier film would have had them actually make better war than the warrior. But this is not a wittier film and irony apparently doesn’t exist.
ONE. MORE. TIME. YOU CANNOT BUY TASTE.
Yes, I saw the Cribs with Shaquille O’Neal with the Superman symbols throughout his house. Did the fuckhead mention how he pissed all over the character of Steel for his movie? No, he did not. And personally, I wouldn’t do that to my wife. You know she hates it, but he’s the money and you don’t fuck with the money. He also put it on a Mercedes. See, you can’t buy class. I love Superman like no one else, but I’m not going to fuck up a Mercedes over it. Same way I’d never wear a Superman t-shirt on a date. Not that I date.
VOTE FOR ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE
As a liberal, Democrat and former card-carrying member of the ACLU, let me break with my knee-jerk brethren (as I do more and more these days) and say that it’s great that Arnold won. Maybe it’s too many Captain America comics, but this is the ultimate triumph of the American dream. Someone coming here without the ability to speak English (still a problem) a ridiculous last name and becoming a world-famous self-made millionaire (aside from the movies, Arnold made a shitload in real estate on his own) and governor of the richest state in the country. It’s amazing and it’s great because it proves anything is possible for anyone in America. And quite frankly, in a world full of professional politicians it’s always good when an amateur succeeds because it shakes up the whole system. He won on his own and so owes no one anything and therefore cannot be controlled. Trust me, neither party likes this kind of shit happening. Think all Republicans love him? Think again. He’s a social liberal who got elected on his own and owes them jack shit. Not to mention that one dickhead who got the whole recall thing started with his own million bucks and was shut down the moment Arnold showed up. He’s no fan. And shoe will be on the other foot when Alec Baldwin makes his run at office. He’s only been talking about it for years. Now with Arnold in office, he won’t be able to keep it in check any longer. Let’s see how many of my liberal brothers and sisters will drag out the “dumb actor” comments then. Arnold may be a groper, but that plays a lot better than the public fits of psychotic rage Baldwin’s been given to. Then again, he’ll be running in New York and we really aren’t as bothered by that sort of thing. Anyone trying to get through traffic when the President is in town knows that emotion.
WHAT IMMORTAL HAND OR EYE COULD FRAME THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY?
Yeah, I’m flexing that English degree. My hero is the man with the tiger. This is why I live in this city. A man not only kept a tiger for years, but he also had an alligator and would have had a lion had he not been dumb enough to put them in a room together. This crazy muthafucka has obviously not been watching the Discovery Channel. Lions and tigers are not bestest of friends. In fact, tigers are solitary. Other cat families have social groups, but not tigers. “Leave me the fuck alone,” is what it’s all about. And what about these people. They say they called the police, but if I’ve got a tiger next door, I’M WALKING THE FUCK DOWN THERE AND NOT LEAVING UNTIL SOMEONE RESPONDS! Those idiots deserved to be eaten. Not the lion cub. And the best part is, he’s completely out of his mind. If you’ve seen even one interview, he never fails to look into the camera and tell the tiger he loves him very much. And you know he means it.
THOSE WHOM THE GODS WOULD DESTROY THEY FIRST BAN ONLINE
Okay so this was my week: someone used my credit card for about $1000 worth of purchases, I got kicked out of an internet chat room about movies for being mean, and a girl I once thought I was in love with got engaged. What annoyed me the most? That’s right, being kicked out of chat room for being mean to other movie geeks. Yes, god fucking forbid I use actual “logic” on that four hundred pound geek in fucking Des Moines. You’re wrong, you dumb, fat, living-at-home, virgin muthafucka! Wrong, wrong, wrong! I can still argue with geeks on other boards, but just the knowledge that the ignorance will run unfettered on that particular site without me to put the smack down just annoys the shit out of me. Yes, I have another name to access it, but the thrill is gone. Ironically enough, just this week scientists reveal that the same sensation produced by rejection is the same sensation generated in the cortex by actual physical pain (this puts a whole new perspective on dating, now doesn’t it). And, no, I wasn’t thrilled with an old obsession (“love” is too healthy a word for what I once felt) getting engaged either, but that was more in the manner of delivery. “Oh, by the way, I’m engaged and living with someone.” After 19 years that’s what I get? Hell, I’ve had people call me up just to tell me they got cable, but an engagement only gets an “oh, by the way” weeks later in response to an email I sent? What. The. Fuck? I can’t pretend I’m as emotionally invested as I once was--if I were, I would have remembered her birthday last month---but because I’m half-a-broad to begin with, not being told directly annoys me. And the credit card incident. If I were a smarter man I would have claimed everything on the card was a result of theft when I reported it (“Yes, they purchased $500 worth of comic books too!”), but I was still in shock hearing that someone was buying plane tickets on my card. This is the first time I’ve ever been ripped off like this. Probably because it was the first time I’ve ever had that much room on the card (you can’t steal from a man with nothing). Of course, now I’m to the point where I’m just pissed and I’m thinking that whole chop off a thief’s hand thing isn’t so bad after all. Hell, it may not be enough.
“Why be a man when you can be successful?” --- Bertolt Brecht
FOR THOSE ABOUT ROCK, WE’RE TAKING ATTENDENCE
The School of Rock opens at number one and this is an ABC family film that escaped and made it to the big screem, so family friendly it is. Written by Mike White (Orange County, The Good Girl, Chuck & Buck), who also co-stars with his pale creepy-looking fetus self, it fails to have that subversive edge you might hope and instead has big gooey heart. This makes Jack Black’s presence here an even greater question. If this is the way you’re going to go, why cast this guy? Sorry, but Jack Black is not a lead. He should never be a lead. He is simply too fucking annoying to be a lead. That manic thing he does only works in small doses. Very. Small. Doses. There’s a reason Tenacious D had less than half-an-hour on HBO. There’s also a reason it’s a duo; you need Kyle Glass to take the edge off. Black plays a slacker musician who pretends to be a substitute teacher and then uses his students to form a rock band so he can win a contest. Now, this is a premise rich in possibilities and while they do use the most conventional ones (kids develop self-esteem) they drop some of the others they do introduce (Jack Black essentially remains the same grandstanding asshole he was to begin with, the romantic subplot wasted) and totally ignore some of the most obvious (no single moms, we see none of the kids’ home lives being changed, none of the kids have crushes on each other and apparently none of the parents grew up on popular music so there’s not one who’d actually like the weird teacher). But, like Freaky Friday earlier this year, they get points for having kids who can actually play their instruments.
DUBIOUS MORAL CHARACTER? CHECK. BAD GIRL? CHECK. DOUBLE CROSS? CHECK.
Out of Time opens at number two and I couldn’t be bothered to see this because it looked like freaking Film Noir 101. You have a good man doing a bad thing for a woman and then all hell breaks loose on him. I’ve only seen the commercials, but it seems obvious that the woman has probably set him up, because that’s the way it always is in noir. Your best friend and your lover are always the guilty parties in the end. Plus, my big problem with noir as a genre is that it depends on dumb choices being made. You can’t have rational, thinking people in a successful noir film. It simply doesn’t work. Your protagonists must constantly make the most self-destructive decisions possible (take the money, sleep with the wrong girl) in order to propel the plot. I can’t relate to this (eating cheese before bedtime hardly qualifies) and so I really can’t enjoy watching it. The most interesting thing I could see about this film was that Dean Cain actually got a job in a major motion picture. How’d that happen?
CAN YOU SMELL WHAT THE ACCOUNTANTS ARE COOKING?
The Rundown is down to number three and in the end, this will be a flop. Why? Because this stupid movie, which shouldn’t have cost seventy-five cents cost over $80M, that’s why. In retrospect, it should have come out during the summer when The Rock’s and Seann William Scott’s primary audience could see it any time they wanted. That way it probably would have made at least $30-40M opening weekend. Now, it’s going to desperately need overseas results just to break even.
BE YOUR OWN BOSS
Under The Tuscan Sun is down to number four, followed by Secondhand Lions at number five and Underworld at number six, and as it turns out, this movie was co-written and co-produced by, Kevin Grevioux, one of the actors in it. No, not one of the leads, but the big, gravelly-voiced Black guy who plays the scariest werewolf, Raze. Smart move on his part, as his resume consists of playing bodyguards and bouncers. Not to mention, he’s guaranteed his character’s survival for the sequels---which he’ll be writing and producing, thus meaning three checks, as opposed to barely one. There must have been a meeting of the gravelly-voiced Black guys, because Vin Diesel (who is Black, don’t kid yourselves) was one of the co-producers of XXX, A Man Apart and will be on the Pitch Black sequel.
HELENA BONHAM CARTER IS MERELY INSURING HER CAREER WITH A KID
Lost in Translation rises to number seven and that dippy blonde character who talks about working with Keanu Reeves and flirts with Scarlett Johanssen’s husband in this is allegedly based on Cameron Diaz, who supposedly annoyed the shit out of Sofia Coppola by flirting with her husband, Spike Jonze, while on the set of Being John Malkovich. Aw, come on Sofia. It’s just business when an actress bones a director. Given who her offscreen partners are (Matt Dillon, Jared Leto) you can’t possibly think she found your ugly little husband attractive. It was just business. Nothing personal.
HE’LL REPLACE DAMON WAYANS THE WAY HE REPLACED D.L. HUGLEY
The Fighting Temptations is down to number eight, bringing Cuba Gooding Jr. one step closer to that sitcom he should have been on years ago.
ELLA TRABAJA DIFICILMENTE PARA EL DINERO
Once Upon A Time in Mexico is down to number nine, giving Eva Mendes two films in the top ten and the new title of “hardest workingwoman in show business.” Last year she was in Training Day and this year it’s been 2Fast, 2Furious, Out of Time and this film. In all three she’s been spared the burden of actually carrying them by some pretty male, but reaps the benefits when it succeeds. Will she make the transition to Salma Hayek/Jlo status or just be this year’s Latina hottie, to go on the heap with Rosalyn Sanchez next year? Better yet, is she doomed to Elizabeth Pena’s career? And am I the only person who looks at her and thinks, “So that’s what Cindy Crawford would look like if she were Spanish---and had an ass.”
THEIR CAREERS ARE THE REAL GHOST STORY
Finally, Cold Creek Manor closes out the top ten at number ten, stopping the return of both Sharon Stone and Juliet Lewis cold, being a bump on the return of Dennis Quaid, confining Stephen Doriff to his C-list status and continuing the consistently inconsistent career of director Mike Figgis. Who, by the way, has been boning actress Saffron Burrows for years, who coincidentally, usually winds up in his films. Now Mike Figgis is butt ugly, so again, Sofia, it’s just business.
MORE TV THAN YOU CAN SHAKE A STICK AT
A friend of mine keeps pushing me to watch the ESPN show, Playmakers and while I admit it’s a slightly compelling show, I can’t get into something whose basic purpose is to strip away the veneer of what is mindless entertainment to me. I already know about the nasty side of professional football, so I don’t need it pushed at me week after week. It’s like a show about how nasty the porn business is, with the mob and the sexually abused performers working out their traumas onscreen. Hell, how about a show about how your food is prepared or your clothing made? We can show the animals slaughtered and the children working in Third World sweatshops. Others also sing the praises of Nip/Tuck, but again, I don’t need to see the shallowness and ugliness of people reflected both accurately and ironically through the use of plastic surgeons week after week. Plus, they show the operations. Ugh. I’m so against surgery I wouldn’t have it if it could make me taller, better looking and give me a bigger dick. I’m not being cut open and made to look like a fucking mummy for anything. But I will watch crap like Tarzan, with Calvin Klein pretty boy, Travis Fimmel. Hey, it’s Tarzan in New York. Jane is here to and she’s a cop. Yeah, you heard me. She’s one of those beautiful detectives under the age of 30 that only exist on TV. But while this show probably would have gone the way of Tarzan In Manhattan (the first attempt at this premise as a series, which starred pretty boy, Joe Lara---who would play Tarzan again in a series seven years later--- and had Jane as a cab driver from Brooklyn, which makes that cop idea suddenly look authentic) this was saved by casting Mitch Pileggi as Tarzan’s uncle and Lucy Lawless as his aunt. That’s right Skinner from The X-Files and Xena herself will be regulars on the show, thus bringing three geek audiences together, which may be enough to keep it alive. But if Cheetah doesn’t show up, I’m gone. Monkey funny.
IF I LOOK BAD, IT’S BECAUSE OF THE WOMEN IN MY LIFE
So, the dryer at my local laundromat cooked my cheap comforter, which was the last thing in the world I needed considering I’d JUST PAINTED THE FUCKING APARMENT TO MATCH IT. So, now I’m in the position of searching out a new one that matches my Christmas Box. First, I have to wait because Macy’s is having a sale in a few days. Then I miss my opportunity to hit the sale because I’m at a fucking screening. Finally, I’ve got my coupons out of the paper and am walking down to get a new comforter. I ignore the old Jewish guy selling Wamsutta comforters outside the synagogue because I think I can do better with my little coupons. Big mistake. Those B&T bitches have cleaned out all the affordable good stuff and now I’m suddenly being forced to consider paying twice what I wanted in order to get something I like. First of all, no fucking flower prints in my house. I’m having too much trouble proving I’m straight as is. Second, it’s got to be somewhat light-colored since my Christmas Box is a little darker now with only two white walls. This sends me down to Bed, Bath & Beyond on 19th to look at their selection. Nothing. At least nothing in my price range that matches my fucking walls. Know what this means? Back to Macy’s where a compromise will have to be made. Sigh. That paisley one is nice, but I don’t have $400 to spend on a comforter. Finally, exhausted by my search I just grab something and go home. This is how I wound up with my tartan-like, Montgomery Plaid Ralph Lauren comforter (but at more than 50% off its $160 price). As always, I suffered the worst buyer’s remorse for a few days (“This color is wrong! This color is so wrong!”), but eventually got used to it. Then came the left-handed compliment from my roommate, who told me she was going to buy me a new comforter for Christmas because she hated the old one. Okay, why do the women around me, whom I trust, keep doing this to me? When I replaced my glasses the first thing I heard was, “Oh, those are so much better. Those other ones were too big for your face.” Something she’d never mentioned previously. I need more gay male friends. They’d never let me walk around with big glasses or keep an ugly comforter.
"I’M LIVING ON THE AIR IN CINNCINATTI/CINCINATTI WKRP”
Sorry I forgot Gordon Jump’s death last week. How could I forget Mr. Carlson from WKRP in Cincinnati? I loved that show and he was great on it. It was an incredibly underrated show that evolved from a typical sitcom into so much more. You have Venus going from pure stereotype "jive-talking" caricature, to a well-spoken Vietnam vet who had actually gone AWOL and spent part of his time running as a teacher. This gave us two great episodes (his Army hearing and the one where he taught the cleaning lady’s thug son about the atom). Then you have the Moral Majority episode, which used John Lennon's "Imagine" to beautiful use as Mr. Carlson stood up to them. And then there was Jan Smithers as Bailey, very hot in her incredibly well-fitting jeans. Her growing infatuation with Johnny was another great subplot, as well as her coming out of her shell. Then you have the episode about The Who, where those people were crushed to death. And there was the episode about the show actually improving and making money, where Andy revealed his frustration (it took years rather than months because he couldn't bear to fire anyone) and Mama Carlson tried to ruin it, only to be thwarted by a drunken Johnny (Andy and Venus were there, but unconscious) who forced her to admit to loving her son more than money. And then there’s the one when Johnny became a disco guy, complete with a different personality. Such a good show. I never watched the revamp of it. That was sacrilege. You won’t see it on DVD soon because of music rights. This was a problem even during the series run and in syndication some of the music has been changed. But there were too man instances where it was needed, like when Johnny sings along to Van Morrison’s “Caravan.”
BETWEEN HER AND JIM FIXX, WHAT’S THE POINT?
Oh, Lucille Roberts died this year too. No one seemed to notice, but you’ll see she’s not in the commercials any more. Yes, it was cancer and she was only 59. That obit recap section at the end of the year is going to be super-long.
LIFE IN THE BIG CITY, BABY
So, have you ever been walking along the street, lost in your own thoughts, when you suddenly realized there were two young girls changing their clothes in a car in broad daylight and were smiling because they thought you were looking at them? No? Okay. Fine. So it’s just me then. Hey, what about that guy with the tiger? What gets me is how the fuck can you not know your neighbor has a fucking tiger!?! Hello? My neighbors have dogs. Small fucking dogs and I notice. What about the smell? The noise? The tons of raw meat you see him carrying in every day? Maybe it’s like Cat People and he’s just the caretaker of some guy who turns into a tiger every time he has sex and can’t turn back until he kills Ed Begley Jr.