AUGUST '04 ARCHIVE

8/30/04

“A man hath no better thing under the sun than to eat, drink and to be merry.” --- Ecclesiastes 8:15

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER I SUPPOSE

Two years after it opened China and a year after its brief west coast release so it could be nominated for an Academy Award (Best Foreign Film), Hero finally opens at number one. On one hand, it’s about time Jet Li had a number one movie in the US for something halfway decent. Maybe this will stop him from making movies with rappers. On the other hand remember what I said about it only being halfway decent? Yeah, you will not find a more beautiful film. I bought it on DVD in Chinatown earlier this year because I got sick of waiting for Miramax to release a movie with my beloved Maggie Cheung, knowing it had been sitting on their shelf for a year. And if it’s beautiful on my TV it must be incredible on a big screen. The story is, Jet Li gets an audience with the king of one of Ancient China’s warning nations because he’s slain assassins who were sworn to kill the king. In his audience, he tells the story of how he defeated them, shown to us in flashbacks. Each flashback is a different color and different mood. For example: when he tells the story of how he defeated the pair of assassins who were lovers (Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung), it’s furious, all in red. When he defeated the great swordsman (Donnie Yu), it’s calm in shades of gray in the rain. There’s also white, green and blue and it’s all fucking stunning. And when I say it’s all that color, I mean it’s all that single color. Their clothes, the ground, even the water. Too bad the story couldn’t match the heights of the cinematography and art direction. The director did Raise The Red Lantern, the story of female oppression in medieval China and this has just as many laughs, if not less. Sorry, but when you’ve got people flying through the air and walking on water, you’ve got to have a sense of humor. Though he forgot it when he did The Hulk, Ang Lee remembered this in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. In that, Chow Yun Fat gave a performance that ranged from mischievous to dramatic to romantic. In this, Jet Li, Donnie Yu, Maggie Cheung, Zhang Ziyi and Tony Leung are seemingly having a misery contest. I think only Zhang Ziyi smiles (and with good reason; she has a love scene with Tony Leung) and that only happens once and only once. And the end scene, which could have been a very dramatic one, tries so hard it ventures into the realm of self-parody. It winds up looking like something out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. In fact, I have seen this happen in Warner Brother’s cartoons. So the only laugh you’ll get in this one is wholly unintentional.

SNAKES. WHY’D IT HAVE TO BE SNAKES?

Opening at number two and probably rich with unintentional laughs is Anacondas: Hunt for the Blood Orchard. Let’s face it, you simply cannot make a movie about giant snakes without phallic imagery being a large part of your movie. And when you have a movie with lots and lots of snakes…let’s just say Freud would have a few questions for you. Now given that the most notable thing about the first Anaconda movie was it’s cast, with a pre-superstardom JLo, a pre-stardom Eric Wilson, a “look-how-far-he’s-fallen” Jon Voight, a genre pay-the-bills movie for Eric Stoltz (who literally spends half of it unconscious), a “I-can-do-more-than-gangsta” movie for Ice Cube and a right-where-you-belong movie for Kari Wurher, we have to look for something similar this time. Well, this time around we’ve got…well, no one. The most well-known person here is Morris Chestnut, who must be wondering where he went wrong to work constantly, but never quite breakthrough. Ironically, he worked with Ice Cube in Boyz N The Hood, but Ice Cube has gone on to bigger and better things (and even Cuba Gooding Jr got an Oscar). He’s the prettiest one, but has accomplished the least. Pray for a role on either a CSI or a Law & Order, Morris.

THE REAL REASON LORD OF THE RINGS WAS FILMED THERE

Without A Paddle is still up here, showing legs in the dog days of August, but given that even this piece of shit cost $30M, it will have to take at the very least, double to not be seen as a failure, even with the break they got from the New Zealand government for making a film there. They got 12.5% of their budget back ($3.75M if you’re counting), but that probably paid just to haul everyone down there. Stop outsourcing American jobs!

HITCH YOUR WAGON TO THE RIGHT STAR

Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement hangs around at number four, and as long as Garry Marshall makes movies, Hector Elizondo will always have a job, having been in virtually every movie the man has ever made. Which means Hector Elizondo has made a lot of bad fucking movies. But he’d be doing it even without Garry Marshall. We know this because he looked down his nose at Ang Lee’s great Eat Drink, Man woman, only to go and horrifically remaking it as Tortilla Soup. You’d think a man from the Bronx would have better survival instincts. Then again, he was smart enough to hook up with fellow Bronx resident Marshall, so something’s working.

NO RELATION TO THAT OTHER GOOD ACTOR IN GARDEN STATE

Exorcist: The Beginning is down to number five and I hope Stellan Skarsgard is making better movies in Sweden and just does stuff like this and King Arthur (which is actually doing well overseas) for the money. He was the star of the original Insomnia and it was a much, much better film without the bullshit morality that was thrown on it. He was a much darker character without the ham-fisted darkness of the American remake (he wasn’t corrupt, but was totally capable of fucking the high school girl that came on to him). Also, his partner wasn’t some weasel who deserved to get shot, and the end left alive him with his guilt. What shit. Christopher Nolan will do a good job with Batman, because it better suits his black and white morality views.

BACK TO THE WELL

Collateral is down to number six, followed by Open Water at number seven and Alien Vs. Predator down to number eight. And if you’re wondering whatever happened to Spud in Trainspotting, well he’s one of the unfortunate archeologists in this. And believe it or not, Sigourney Weaver may just make another one of these. But I can’t hate on her for it. She does good work all the time in a variety of different projects, and this is the only “obviously for money” thing I’ve ever seen her do. She deserves an occasional seven-figure paycheck. Especially since it’s the only thing she has over Meryl Streep, who overshadowed her at Yale, despite coming after her. Even then, Meryl was treated as a goddess, whereas Sigourney suffered with smaller roles because of her height. Men are pathetic, are they not? Scared of tall women and on their knees for anything blonde.

BOB IN ALBERQEQUE DIDN’T LIKE THE USE OF IMAGERY IN THE THIRD ACT

The Bourne Supremacy is down to number nine with Suspect Zero opening at number ten and what hath Silence of the Lambs wrought/ My god, along with Pulp Fiction and The Matrix, no film in the last decade has inflicted so many obviously derivative films on us. What’s really funny is that this film got $7.5M added to its budget by the state of New Mexico in return for some of the gross. Man, I’d be one pissed off taxpayer. And then I’d demand script approval from then on. Now that would be funny. But even though Aaron Eckhart borders on man-crush, I was not going to subject myself to another serial killer movie. And Carrie Anne-Moss needs to just accept that her time is over. The Matrix is to her what Star Wars was to pretty much every one but Harrison Ford. Yeah, you’ll do other stuff, but who really cares? And Ben Kingsley. Supposedly he insists of being called “Sir Ben” on sets. You must be joking. First of all, I’ve got ten bucks that says you spend most of your days being called either “Professor X” or “Captain Picard.” Secondly, do you think if you weren’t “Sir Ben” that twentysomething girl your sorry fiftysomething ass married would even give you the time of fucking day?

SAVE YOURSELF THREE HOURS AND READ THIS

Video Music Awards…here’s a thought, Usher. How about just doing one song and doing it well, rather than two half-assed?…let’s see, Jay-Z is there with Beyonce and her parents (they’ve finally gone public with it, proving JLo is full of shit when she says she couldn’t avoid the media attention). Yeah, I’m sure they’re thrilled with her dating a former drug-dealing rapper ten years her senior. I wonder if she got that ugly ghetto tattoo on her hip before or after dating him…and while I’m no fan of Jet, Hoobastank or Yellowcard, I can’t decide if they’re getting screwed doing on half a song or maybe this is the best showcase for such marginal bands?…as if Puff Daddy wasn’t ugly enough to begin with, he’s still got that stupid Mohawk…I simply don’t like Kanye West. His “aware” lyrics just annoy the shit out of me. He comes off as merely pretentious. And as long as there’s one child starving, how can you justify spending thousands of dollars on an image of Christ to sit around your neck. And did I mention that he charges churches to perform? But giving Chaka Kahn her props was nice. Even though those fucking kids has no idea who she was and her voice is gone. And I still say the moment she blew it out was on VH1 Divas a few years back…sorry, but why inject politics into this? I was actually amused when the Kerry girls got booed. And you know it was killing the Bush girls not to be partying in Miami, but being stuck with the Republican National Convention because of dad. And you’ve got a much better chance at nailing a Bush girl than a Kerry girl…I hate both Naomi Campbell and Lenny Kravitz, but I’d pay to watch them have sex. Maybe their sexual diseases will cancel each other’s out…wow, a team of specialists made Alicia Keys wear a dress. Or maybe that cute girl sitting next to her…Sarah Jessica Parker will never be pretty, but she can come do her skinny, rhythm-free, white girl dance for me anytime. And did I mention how much I hated Lenny Kravitz?…you could tell Beyonce didn’t get that “Que” was “What” in Spanish. Be glad you’re pretty and can sing, you dumb cow…Bruce Willis trying desperately to get a little of the cool cache so he can compete with Ashton Kutcher for his daughters’ attention…Jessica Simpson is not successful because of her singing career so why do they still let her do it?…Christina Aguilera trying to use Nelly to even touch the kind of numbers Britney sells. And if you asked me if Nelly would still be around in 2004, I would have said no, but here he is. One reason is he chooses the best samples. You can’t do better than Curtis Mayfield’s “Superfly.” But the song still sucks and she needs to keep searching…I could give a shit about Mase. Guess there ain’t as much pussy in Jesus as there is in rap, huh, Mase?…Is that Vivica Fox looking like somebody’s skanky mom?…Usher making it clear there is no competition between him and Justin Timberlake. Yeah, because you won. One million copies the first week versus Justin selling less than half a million the first week. Quintuple platinum with just three singles versus triple platinum with five singles. It’s easy to be gracious when you win…Alicia Keys and Stevie Wonder. Again, do these people even know that’s a fucking musical genius god sitting up there with her? My god, Lenny Kravitz will do anything with anyone to be noticed. He doesn’t deserve to even play “Higher Ground” much less play it with Stevie…even though Tony Hawk is my age, if there’s one thing that proves I’m an old man, it’s my distaste for all skate culture. I hate it all. The look, the music, it’s all stupid and ugly to me…these dumb ass kids have no idea who Ray Charles is either…someone please give Polyphonic Spree some of that “special” Kool-Aid…Gwyneth Paltrow, obviously overjoyed with the new boobs motherhood gave her…John Mellencamp. You poor bastard. There was a time you were a star on on MTV. Now, you’re just this puffy old man…Love Andre 3000 doing “Prototype” even if it is without the “Where Are My Panties” prologue. I’d rather hear the whole thing than see Big Boi at all. I can count the number of times I listened to Speakerboxx. And I loved “For the millionth time, ‘Hey Ya’ goddamnit.” Because if you’re tired of it, imagine how he must feel. But, as always, he does a totally different set up. This time it’s election based.

WATER SEEKS ITS OWN…DISPLACENCY LEVEL?

Seen that commercial where the guy loses over a hundred pounds so that he could join the Navy? I’m waiting for the sequel where he leaves his wife, because she still weighs three hundred pounds. And you know he will, especially since she obviously isn’t following him down the program. Not to mention, their kids will have to do it too, because two fat parents doesn’t give you Sarah Jessica Parker children.

I’M FAT, OLD AND FALLING APART

So, thanks to those bitches I call my sisters (the ones my parents gave me and the ones I’ve acquired on my own) my heel is killing me and may be a heel spur. Actually, it’s not that bad yet. Right now it’s just a plantar fasciitis, which means I’ve wounded the fascia tissue that runs from the heel to the ball of my foot. It supports my arch and transmits my weight across my foot when I walk. So every time I take a fucking step IT HURTS! It started only when I started wearing those fucking flip-flop sandals. It’s to the point where not only can I not wear them, but simply walking is painful. It’s an excruciating pain in my heel that reached the breaking point when I ran to catch a bus last week. And to add insult to injury, when I went to look it up online, this is the first thing I read: “Plantar fasciitis is most often seen in middle-aged men…” Ouch (this delighted my dad, who then told my mom, "He knows he's 40 now."). And I thought the heel hurt before. Then came the remedies: “stretching, better shoes, losing weight…” Damn! You’re hittin’ bone now. Even more fun “most patients find relief within about three months, and over 90% within one year.” One fucking year!?! Over fucking shoes!?! Okay, that’s it. I’m never listening to you silly bitches again! You’ve crippled me! I can’t even go to yoga! YOU TOOK MY HOT YOGA INSTRUCTOR AWAY FROM ME! I’ll never forgive you for this.

GOD SEEMS TO BE MISSING A LEAD GUITAR NOW, SO LOOK OUT KEITH, JIMMY

DEATH, PLEASE STOP! Laura Branigan!?! Laura fucking Branigan? Why!?! Died Bruce Lee style too. An aneurysm. I was just thinking about Laura, because I see her virtually every day on VH1 Classics. Laura was great because she wasn’t a skinny girl, but didn’t hesitate to wear a short skirt or leotard and didn’t give a good goddamn what anyone thought. You think I’m kidding? You watch a Laura Branigan video. At some point she’s going to be in a state of undress. And I won’t even get into the video for “Self-Control” which was directed by William Freidkin and is nothing but sex. I doubt you could even make it now, because it’s not that stupid rap sex with half-naked girls, but adult crap like cruising downtown clubs and bars for anonymous sex while you have someone at home. This is just wrong. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. If you’ve ever entertained anyone, anywhere, at any time, for any reason, Death is coming for you! If I weren’t an atheist, I’d say God was planning the biggest party ever and wanted the most talented and diverse musicians possible (Ray Charles, Rick James and now poor Laura Branigan). This explains why fucking Huey Lewis can live without fear. And to top it off, the guy who created Pop Rocks is also dead. Damn.

A SWING ON THAT BACK PORCH

There was an essay in The Village Voice written by a White woman about the trials and tribulation of being “a white girl with ass” and how it’s seems more acceptable now than ever before even though Black men seem shocked by it each and every time. Hey, I can’t say it’s not true. No matter how many times I see it, it still seems new and unusual to me and the first one I saw was in 8th grade. She also laments that it’s a fad that mainstream fashion is trying to push back into the closet. Yeah, like it’ll fit.

“IN THE NAVY…”

Finally, my dad was in town this week because my aunt was sick and when I went to see her she immediately called me “A Man of Leisure” without any provocation of my part, reassuring me that you cannot rise above blood. The next day my dad and my uncle (he married my aunt) came down to see me and have lunch. I took them to my favorite Italian spot in The Village because my dad said he wanted Italian. After this we took a leisurely walk down West Broadway (they stopped at every shoe store like a couple of girls proving that certain traits I have are simply genetic) down to Canal Street where we could show our support for organized crime by purchasing knock-off watches and belts. During this, my dad recounted a story that he’d told me before but I’d forgotten. When I was just a baby, my mom took me with her to visit her sister in Ohio. It was only supposed to be a week, but my mom decided on another. This didn’t sit well with my dad’s father who flatly declared, “They’re trying to take that boy.” Bear in mind, both my parents were only 21 at the time and my grandfather was old, old school. He immediately drove my dad to the airport to buy a ticket for my mother to bring me home. Now. From there we took different turn when my uncle told us stories about liquor and the Navy during the Korean war. He was on an aircraft carrier and was a yeoman. This meant he could deal out Liberty Passes at will because he could forge the XO’s signature. Even when a guy was caught, nothing happened because the XO thought it was his signature. In any case, this was used to trade favors for alcohol above all things. While others were using shoe polish and Aqua Velva, he was doing it for money (he sent most of his paycheck home to his wife) or booze. Pilots got an allotment of whiskey, but my uncle found the one pilot who didn’t drink and formed a relationship with him. In a movie-like turn of events, on their very last day in port, the pilot was killed in collision with another plane and my uncle was asked by the XO to break it to the pilot’s girlfriend who was a nurse. This might almost excuse what happend in Japan where it was the 360 yen to a dollar. This began as a story of booze, but then segued into a story about prostitutes and how cheap it was with the exchange rate. 50 yen could get you all night from a man pimping out his own daughter. He had a regular place he would visit where the man, a former Japanese Naval officer, would give him the large bed he’d acquired (the Japanese don’t sleep on beds as we know them). And I’m simply not going to tell you the Philippines story, except that it was a welcome place after being in Pearl Harbor, because at that time in history in Hawaii “a Black man couldn’t even look at a piece of pussy.”

8/23/04

“Really to sin you have to be serious about it.” --- Henrik Ibsen

SATAN GREENLIT THIS BECAUSE EXORCIST 5 IS HARDLY GOD’S WORK

Exorcist The Beginning opens at number one and no matter how bad these movies are, they must make some money, because they keep on coming. By my count this is the fourth one. Technically, it’s the fifth. See, this is the second version of this movie. Director Paul Schrader made one, but Warner Brothers didn’t like it because it had no blood and gore, so they shelved his movie and pretty much started a new one from scratch, with freaking Renny Harlin of all people. His was supposed to come out on video when this one hit the theaters, but I’m sure they reconsidered that when they realized some people would think it was the same film (which it kinda is) and just rent it. Maybe now they’ll just come out on video at the same time. As you all know, I don’t like the scary, but that’s not why I didn’t see this. No, I didn’t find the first Exorcist scary. Sorry, but I saw it too late and my expectations were far too high. Not to mention, I wasn’t aware just how much the Saturday Night Live skit with Richard Pryor (“The bed! Is on! My foot!”) took literally from the movie. That’s it. I saw far too many rip-offs and parodies before I saw the real thing, so it lacked any impact for me. It’s like Catcher In The Rye. If you read it too late, you’ll never want to kill the president for Jodie Foster. It’ll just be a book about an obnoxious teenager.

THERE’S NO SQUEALING LIKE A PIG WHEN YOU’RE PG-13

Without A Paddle opens at number two and how lame is this line up? It’s a collection of nothing be second fiddles. Guys who are doomed to play “Best Friend” or “Comic Relief” to the much better looking lead---not that it’s difficult being better looking than these fugly muthafuckas. Seth Green is actually a very funny actor (his Hip Hop White Boy from Can’t Hardly Wait is the only justification for that film’s existence and he stole The Italian Job in one scene), but Matthew Lillard is a boil on the ass of the acting community. This Dax guy is supposedly from Punk’d and virtually everything and everyone associated with Ashton Kutcher is beneath contempt, so that makes this movie one and three so far. Now we have Burt Reynolds as the “in” joke because this movie is obviously a play on Deliverance, perhaps his finest hour on film (personally, I enjoy the sheer excess and self parody of the Cannonball Run movies and Stroker Ace is sad, sick guilty pleasure of mine). Maybe he’s had enough humble pie after his disastrous display of arrogance when Boogie Nights briefly resurrected his career. He just knew he was getting an Oscar and wasn’t shy about letting you know it or how pissed he was when didn’t get it. Seven years and another string of flops later and he’s supporting a supporting member from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Shaggy from Scooby Doo and a pretty boy’s flunky. The plot is simple: three childhood friends set off on a raft trip as a promise to a recently deceased fourth friend. Along the way, they suffer comedic misadventures, discover themselves and rediscover their friendship. Yawn. I don’t like this kinda movie when it’s done well, so you really think I’m going to see it when it’s so obviously a piece of crap?

LESS DISNEY AND MORE SCHOOLHOUSE ROCK FORYOU, RAVEN

Princess Diaries 2 is down to number three and is actually doing well, which guarantees you a third one. Raven Symone is in this and she joylessly describes it as a show of her obligation to Disney for saving her from a life of “failed former child star.” First of all, you still have time for that to happen and secondly, Disney does not own you. There was this thing called The Civil War and this guy named Lincoln and something else called the 14th Amendment. It’s too much to go into now, but he end result is that you don’t have to anything for Disney that you don’t want to do. Same for that Cosby bastard. You don’t have to do those damn reunion shows. Lisa Bonet knew this.

NOT LIKE THAT PUSSY SPEILBERG AND HIS ROBOT SHARK

Alien Vs. Predator is down to number four, followed by Open Water, finally entering the top ten at number five. It’s based on the true story of an American couple who got left behind in Australia, which seems to have so many shark attacks it’s like it’s their version of Wendy’s (“Dude, I’m hungry. Let’s to to Australia”). This has had serious indie buzz for the better part of a year, not the least of which is based on the fact that the low-budgeted film used real sharks. Yep, they had a shark wrangler throw tuna into the water to keep the sharks close, but not hungry. What. The. Fuck? Can you imagine showing up onset and learning that? “By the way, we’re throwing you into shark infested, chum soaked waters. Okay, action!” Fortunately, no one notices when you pee in the ocean. I look forward to this being adapted in other films, wherein each succeeding director shows his balls by exposing his very replaceable actors to greater and greater dangers. “Okay, now Kim, kick the bear in his balls. It’s okay. He’s been fed.”

GOOD THINGS IN SMALL PACKAGES

Collateral is down to number six and appearing in this in the thankless role of “the lone cop who sees the real truth” is Mark Ruffalo, who was hired, I think, not because of his talent, but because he’s tiny just like Tom Cruise. Also around is perennial Michael Mann fave, Bruce McGill, a.k.a. D-Day from Animal House. He was in The Insider, Ali and can actually be found in the first season of Miami Vice.

AND SHE’S A TALL DRINK OF WATER TOO

The Bourne Supremacy is down to number seven and hopefully Joan Allen will be in the third film and this time they’ll give her a gun and let her kick some ass, thereby making all my sexual fantasies complete. Sorry, but I adore Joan Allen and I love the Ball Breaking Ice Goddess persona she afflicts in this (not to mention that kinda helmet hairstyle she’s wearing). Hell, I only saw Pleasantville because I learned she had a scene where she learns to masturbate. Don’t even get me started on the Oscars she’s been denied for The Crucible, The Contender and Nixon (which my Oliver Stone bias prevents me from seeing). She so deserved it for The Crucible, and that’s no small praise given whom she was up against. Hell, the one person who didn’t deserve to win was the person who won: Juliette Binoche for The English Patient. Lauren Bacall, Barbara Hershey and Marianne Jean-Baptiste were all better than her. And Joan Allen was better than all of them. Her speech to Daniel Day Lewis is a fucking killer.

I THINK DAVID BYRNE WAS THE ORIGINAL CHOICE FOR DR. LECHTER

The Manchurian Candidate is down to number eight and Roby Hitchcock was the bad guy (he also directed a film about Robyn Hitchcock called Storefront Hitchcock)? Man, Jonathan Demme loves to throw in his musical faves doesn’t he? Not that I mind. Chris Isaak and Sister Carol are fun in Married to the Mob. But I could care less about that French singer in The Truth About Charlie. He was one more turd upon a pile of many.

BY THE WAY, SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER WAS IN BROOKLYN, NOT QUEENS

The Village is down to number nine and if I were Adrian Brody’s agent, I’d be a little worried right about now. Yeah, he’s got an Oscar, but Oscar doesn’t pay the rent. Where’s the follow-up either critically or financially? After Nicholas Cage got his statue, he turned into a superwhore and did it for so long you forgot why he got it in the first place---then he does something like Adaptation and you go, “Oh, yeah. That’s why.” Of course, now he’s back to whoring with another Jerry Bruckheimer movie coming this fall. I can understand why Adrian Brody would want to work with M. Night Shamaylan, but he’s not even the star of this. In fact, his biggest starring role since the Oscars has been that Coke commercial that’s a take-off on Saturday Night Fever. Not good.

LOOK! A RAPPER IS IN MY MOVIE! I’M SO COOL!

Finally, Garden State enters the top ten at number ten, no doubt buoyed by the word of mouth of people whose expectations I so lowered that they were able to enjoy it. Either that, or bunch of Method Man’s fans heard about his cameo and rushed the theaters. Yes, Method Man is in this, giving us yet another indie film cliché for the list: irreverent cameo for hip hop street cred.

“IT’S NOT A VIDEO/IT’S NOT A FILM/IT IS SOMETHING THAT YOU’LLNEVER COMPREHEND…”

There was nothing for me to see this week, but that’s okay because I had reason to buy my first DVD in months. Yes, the 20th Anniversary edition of Purple Rain (it’ll be out on Tuesday for those of you without knowledge of stores that violate street dates). I never bought the piece of shit first issue because it was pan & scan. Besides, I realized it had been about 17 years at the time and knew what would be coming soon. Well, my waiting paid off with a two disc set, letterboxed, including seven videos, with no less than “Sex Shooter” on it. And this is one of the rare times I watch the bonus stuff. I have to admit, normally I could give a shit about all the hours of extras and sometimes don’t even listen to the director’s commentary, but given Prince’s reputation as being less than “people-friendly” I had to watch it. Especially since he did not contribute. Even Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam are interviewed , which is strange considering they were actually fired by Prince from The Time right before the movie (they missed a gig because they were in Atlanta producing the SOS Band---and one of their replacements was St. Paul who was later in The Family which first recorded “Nothing Compares 2 U). But they never mention that or get into the darker side of working for Prince and believe me, there’s a reason virtually no one does so for very long. I guess this is why Morris Day isn’t interviewed. Nor is Apollonia. (who can actually be seen ten pounds heavier in the Eddie Money video “Shakin’”). Now, the movie sucks. Let’s just face that. The acting is sub-standard, the direction is like a blind traffic cop at rush hour and the writing like a bunch of words strung together by a drunk. Makes you long for the sophistication of the Monkees TV series. The best description I ever heard of it was a bad Italian porn film with all the sex taken out. It was bad then and it’s bad now, but the music was always tight. In fact, my favorite scene has nothing to do with any of the hits. The supposedly “darker” scene with “Computer Blue” and “Darling Nikki.” That’s the shit. One of the reasons the song performances work is because they had no time to fuck with it. Each song was only done twice with four cameras on them at all times. You shouldn’t be allowed do it any other way. Poor Vanity gets the short shrift about her involvement in Purple Rain. They talk about having a last minute search for the female lead but never explain just why they had to do that. And the director actually starts crying when explaining one of the scenes in the movie (“You gonna get married?….Never get married.”), keeping all the stereotypes about Italians being overly emotional alive. Interestingly enough, they actually get into how “Purple Rain” was written with words I barely remember from my guitar instructor like “sustained chords” and “ninths” and other things I simply do not understand, which is why I suck. I’ll probably get Graffiti Bridge too because it is the official sequel to this movie. Another bad movie, but again, the music is still good and that actually has the original line-up of The Time, including Terry Lewis, Jimmy Jam and Monte Moir. Under The Cherry Moon, however, will never darken my door. Great, great music on that album, but the movie is shit and not even Kristin Scott Thomas will make me watch it again.

IN 1984, 2004 WAS NOT GOING TO BE A HAPPY PLACE. HEY, THEY WERE RIGHT.

Yes, I still spend my days watching VH1 Classics. Remember depressing videos? A reoccurring theme in the videos of the 80’s was world annihilation because we were still in the Cold War. The Brits were especially big on it. This came to mind watching Ultravox’s “Dancing With Tears In My Eyes.” Also, the approaching 1984 gave us videos about oppressive regimes, like Thomas Dolby’s “Airwaves.” Post apocalyptic was big, mostly because of Mad Max, which is why you see Tom Petty & The HeartBreakers using leftover vehicles from Logan’s Run in “I Found You.” Also, darkness is found in of all places, Toto’s “Africa.” The video is about some guy looking for an African tribe---which doesn’t want to be found, based on the video ending with him and the girl being killed and the building being burned down. And the only depressing thing about Frankie & The Knockouts “Sweetheart” is that I downloaded it a week ago and still have it.

SO, I GUESS THIS MEANS NO WHAM REUNION?

And VH1 Classic must be doing well thanks to middle-aged losers like me, because the whole weekend was Classic on the regular VH1, and the best part was George Michael Behind The Music. Uh, George, you’re supposed to this when your album comes out, not three months after it comes out and fails. Is it just me, or is it kinda weird that George Michael kinda looks like his boyfriend? Is that really a relationship or just an extreme form of masturbation? And how dumb are you women who thought for one second he was straight? We can all be forgiven for Wham. Even though it’s very, very gay (short shorts, hoop earrings), they were English and it’s hard to tell when an Englishman is gay. But I knew he was gay the moment I saw the day-glo tan and blonde highlights in his hair in “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.” Not to mention the manicured beard stubble. How the hell could it take you silly broads nearly 20 years to figure it out? Never ask why men run the world again. And where was Andrew Ridgeley to be interviewed for this? What the fuck else is he doing? Same for Cheryl “Pepsi” Reilly who was one of Wham singers. And Deon Estus, who did one of the best George Michael songs that George Michael never did “Heaven Help Me” (though he did co-write and sing backup) only got literally five seconds. This man toured with him for years! And what bullshit is this from Geri Halliwell saying she had his poster on her wall when she was 12? Try 19, honey. You were not 12 when George Michael was first a star. And is it any wonder Brooke Shields wasn’t interviewed? In her book she said George Michael was her first real love affair. Translation: a gay man popped my cherry---then took off. I wouldn’t be interviewed either. And his ass is kinda flat, so what the hell are they talking about? Oh, that’s right. White people. The people who believe Cameron Diaz’s flat ass is so great. I still say, Justin Timberlake is more the modern George Michael than Michael Jackson (and George knows it because he wanted to do the Madonna/Britney kiss with him, but was oddly turned down by Justin), but when George Michael when solo, he could sell out Madison Square Garden alone. Justin couldn’t sell out a tour with Christina Aguilera to help. But those glory days are over. George, your recent albums have failed because they’re depressing and somber. Yes, I know you’ve buried a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean every single song has to be about it. They like pain a lot more in Europe than we do here in the states. And how funny was it, that after all this, he and his boyfriend still have an “open” relationship and he wallows in it (something he didn’t share with Oprah, when he was presenting this picture of total domesticity). See, ladies? If you truly acted like us, civilization would collapse, because it would be nonstop humping of anything and everything that moved. This man had his first true love die of AIDs and he still cannot keep his dick in his pants. That is what men truly are.

FUGITIVES WITH MEANS, BABY. FUGITIVES WITH MEANS.

Someone stole Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” from a museum in Norway. On one hand it’s horrible. On the other hand you gotta admire their taste. After all, it’s obviously for someone’s private collection because there’s no way in hell you can sell it. It’s like The Thomas Crown Affair, but without the class. Personally, I would like his piece “The Vampire” which I believe is in the Met right now. Hey, I’m unemployed, who wants to play Thomas Crown Affair with me and go take that bad boy? More importantly, who’s going to be my Renee Russo?

DEEP INSIDE A VERY SAD LIFE

Now, you laughed when I told you VH1 was developing an whole line of porn related programming, but a week later we get an hour of Jenna Jameson’s Confessions, to help promote her new book “How To make Love Like A Porn Star.” The show was essentially how she got to where she is now and sadly, you show me a porn star male or female, I’ll show you someone who suffered some sort of childhood trauma, usually sexual and usually rape. She was no exception to that rule, having been gang raped by a group of football players and once by her boyfriend’s father. But here’s my problem. Her father was a cop in Las Vegas. Granted, if he was as clueless about his job as he was his own fucking daughter, then he wasn’t a very good one, but still he was a cop in Vegas. Doesn’t this mean that a guy who raped your little girl has a date with a hole in the desert? They even interviewed the rapist asshole, who claims “she was making love to me when I was making love to her.” Uh-huh. Why not just wear a t-shirt that reads, “Rapist” you fuck? He couldn’t have been more obvious with his guilt. And even if it were true, what kind of asshole fucks his son’s 16-year-old girlfriend? The kind who’d rape her if he got half a chance, that’s who. And it’s the same thing with the football guys. If I’m a cop in Vegas, I’ve got friends on both sides of the law and we’re gonna go dig some holes in the desert for all these fuckers. Hell, I’m ready to do it right now, so what’s his problem? Oh, yeah. He’s a loser. It was a sad show, because all the bullshit talk of money and sexual freedom go right out the window after that. And her father is so obviously dealing with the guilt of his many, many mistakes. If this was supposed to make someone buy her book, it failed. I couldn’t even watch the whole thing it was so depressing.

HEY, THE WATER’S COLD, THAT’S WHY!

So, I took the next step in my swimming and got “more functional” trunks. I figured if those sorry fat bastards in the accompanying lanes can wear bikini briefs without shame, the least I can do is get some more fitted trunks (but not bikini briefs, I’ll die before going out like Eurotrash). And while I’ll never been seen on a beach in them, I can handle the fifty feet from the locker room to the pool in the morning where no one see me. And while I’m sure their elastic nature was designed to accommodate most any variation in my size range, they were simply not prepared for…My Mother’s Thighs! Yes, they test the very limits of my square cut Speedo shorts and sometimes exceed them. We may have to go back to the looser trunks before elastic gives way at the wrong moment and puts someone’s eye out.

IN HEAVEN THEY GOT A HELLUVA BAND/THEATER COMPANY/ETC…

Finally, Death takes no holiday, claiming Hollywood composer Elmer Bernstein, who did such music as Man With The Golden Arm, Sweet Smell of Success, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Escape, and even Animal House and Stripes. His most famous work is The Magnificent Seven, but my personal fave will always be the pomposity of The Ten Commandments. And I’ll say it again: if you have entertained anyone, anywhere at anytime, Death is coming for you.

8/16/04

“Let us leave pretty women to men devoid of imagination.” --- Marcel Proust

NEXT: ALIENS VS. PREDATORS VS. SPY

Alien Vs. Predator opens at number one, and it instantly won my heart when I saw the running time was only 87 minutes. Hell yeah! That’s how you make a stupid science fiction action movie! This is a pure comic book movie and by that I mean it’s simple, to the point, easily to follow and actually based on a comic book (you can also find Superman Vs. Aliens, Superman Vs. Predator, Batman Vs. Aliens, Batman Vs. Predator and Judge Dredd Vs. Aliens along with Superman Vs. Terminator and Robocop Vs. Terminator, I shit you not). Actually, the first Predator sequel was a comic book and they used a lot of its plot to make Predator 2, only in the comic it was actually the brother of Schwarzenegger’s character, a New York cop, who fought the Rastas from Space (hey, it’s what they look like). As with any Alien movie, you have a strong, take-no-shit female lead and in this instance she’s played by the wonderful Sannaa Lathaan of love & basketball and technically speaking, she’s the first Black woman to ever open a film at number one. But who are we kidding? The real stars of this film are all latex and CGI, so that slot remains open (god knows Halle Berry didn’t fill it with Catwoman). With her is Lance Henrikson as the creator of the Bishop robot you see in Aliens (he’s even doing the hand trick at one point) and Raoul Bova from Under The Tuscan Sun and those Gap commercials, as the world’s sexiest archeologist. But if you know Alien movies, then you know not to get attached to anything with balls, because only child-bearers tend to be standing the final reel (but if you like that cute little spikey-haired blonde with an accent, I’ve got some bad news for you). The plot actually showed up in one of the comics, where The Predators pick a planet, and use it to host the Aliens so they can hunt them, but one thing from the comics and the previous movies is that The Predators like it hot. This story is strangely and needlessly set in Antarctica (when Superman and Batman fought them, it was in the jungles of South America) tossing that history and premise right out. The Predators essentially trick people into going into a pyramid so they can be used by the Aliens as hosts. Things don’t go as they plan when the people steal the advanced guns the Predators needed to help kill the Aliens, who begin to kick serious Predator ass. There are only a few good fight scenes between the Predators and the Aliens (one being the big showdown with a Queen), but at only 87 minutes, what can you expect? Did I mention that’s an excellent running time?

PRINCESS DIARIES 3: D-I-V-O-R-C-E

The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement opens at number two, and in his own way, Garry Marshall is one of the lords of hell. We give him a break because he gave us Happy Days, but the truth is, he’s done more evil than good. After all, it was his candy-coated reworking of the original, dark Pretty Woman script that inflicted Julia Roberts on us. In my mind, he’s only made three even halfway decent movies: Nothing In Common, the underrated Young Doctors In Love and The Flamingo Kid. Other than that it’s shit like Exit to Eden, Dear God, The Other Sister, and Runaway Bride. Yes, he’s always funny in front of the camera with his cranky old rich guy routine, but unfortunately he keeps going behind it. I didn’t see the first Princess Diaries, so I damn sure wasn’t going to see the second. In fact, other than bitching about Garry Marshall I can’t think of one even remotely interesting aspect about it. Because I actually am straight, Julie Andrews in this means nothing to me and Anne Hathaway, while very attractive, is very attractive in a very generic way, like a soap opera star.

TALL WHEN HE STANDS ON HIS EGO

Collateral is down to number three which is not good for Tom Cruise, which is bad, because as a shallow actor, he makes a good bad guy and should play more of them, just not in such a logic-defying premise. And when is he gonna let that 5’9” thing go? When he was on The Daily Show he was eye-to-eye with John Stewart. I saw John Stewart in the street once and I looked down on him. Do you know how friggin’ short you have to be for me to look down on you!?! But between this and Ray, Jamie Foxx may sadly become the negro of choice for movies, which sucks because I still hate him. But he’s got a helluva an agent to have this all happen for him despite the lack of proven box office history. Then again, Tom doesn’t want a Denzel opposite him. He wants a lesser brutha. A Cuba Gooding Jr., who has got to be wondering what he did for Tom not to call him for this. You won an Oscar when he didn’t for his movie, that’s what you did. And now Renee Zellweger has one too? Don’t look for a Jerry Maguire reunion anytime soon.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? JOHN WOO IS OVERRATED?

Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie opens at number four and when I doubt my actual adulthood I just have to see something like this be so enormously successful when I know jack shit about it. And I mean nothing. It’s Japanese and has something to do with playing cards. But as King of the Geeks, I must confess something that may cause unrest in the kingdom of Anime (there are many kingdoms in the land of geek: Star Trek, Star Wars, Rings, Mythology, Computer and Anime. The religion that they all worship is Porn): I’m not a huge anime fan. I mean, there are things I love, like Ninja Scroll, but I’ve always found it very creepy that all the people in purely Japanese product are made to look White. I mean, who does that? What did MacArthur do to these people? Can you imagine the Swiss making animated movies and comic books where every fucking person was Asian? No, you can’t. That’s how weird this is. And you know what else? I saw Akira. So fucking what? It was painfully long and to this day I’m still not sure what the fuck it was about except a motorcycle gang in the future and some mutant kids gone crazy. And I won’t even bother trying to watch Ghost In The Shell or Princess Monoke. Nope. I’m old and it’s all beyond me now. It ends for me at Speed Racer.

AND HE THOUGHT HER ASS WASN’T THAT GREAT EITHER

The Bourne Identity is down to number five and I love how with each passing interview, the more, it becomes established that this movie had secured his A-list status, the more Matt Damon opens up about how he felt about JLo. First, he wouldn’t say anything. Then, came generic, “Oh, she’s great statements.” Now it’s “Being with her was ruining his career,” and pretty soon it’s going to be, “That fucking bitch.”

LE VILLAGE C’EST MANIFIQUE!

The Village is down to number six and it’s going to be looked upon as that rarest of things: the failure that actually made a lot of money. I mean, it’s up to $100M but people are treating it like it only make $10M. Actually, at $64M it needs to make about $192M to be successful, but we’ll have to wait to see if the overseas box office. This may be the kinds of shit they love in France.

WHAT’S “THE SPY WHO LOVED ME” DOING IN THIS MOVIE ANYWAY?

The Manchurian Candidate is down to number seven, followed by Little Black Book at number eight and a surprise defender for this came from my brother who says not only should I see it, but once I do I’ll realize just why Holly Hunter took this role. I dunno. I’ve heard rumors of an overabundance of Carly Simon songs, which makes no sense for a girl of that age. I need the fast forward of DVD to deal with that.

SAL, PUT SOME BRUTHAS ON THE WALL!

I, Robot is down to number nine and finally closing out the top ten is Spider-Man 2 and I saw Bill Nunn on the street carrying a suit bag from Big & Tall. I can see the advantage of the camera cell phones, because if I had one I’d have a picture with Radio Raheem right now.

MORE FUN THAN THE ACUTAL OLYMPICS PART 1

I tried watching the Olympics, I really did, but then I remember how I simply don’t give a shit about any sports outside of football and started watching the two preseason games instead. But one good thing about it was hearing David Sylvian singing “Somewhere” during a commercial. For those of you old enough to remember, David Sylvian was lead singer of a group called Japan in the 80’s, whose most famous song, ironically, was probably “Visions of China.” He was very much a Bowie-type, like Charlie Sexton and lead singer of the Psychedelic Furs. I rediscovered David Sylvian my senior year of college when my then roommate clued me into his prolific solo career. Some of his best songs are with Ryuichi Sakamoto, who not only won an Oscar for The Last Emperor (again, ironic since he is Japanese and the movie was about China) but, if you’re even older, you remember him as part of The Yellow Magic Orchestra, whose big hit was “Computer Games.” Their most famous song together is probably “Forbidden Colors” from the soundtrack of Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, but my personal favorite is “Heartbeat” (hopefully, if I got the sound right this week you should hear it; last week, it was Rick James and Rose Royce, but I didn’t get it fixed until later during the week). This also includes David’s wife, Ingrid Chavez. You know her better as the woman who co-wrote “Justify My Love” with Lenny Kravitz, then sued him when he left her off the credits. She was also in Graffiti Bridge with Prince, which pretty much ended her career before it began. I just know far too much useless shit.

MORE FUN THAN THE ACTUAL OLYPMICS PART 2

Speaking of the Olympics there has been some bitching about the female athletes “degrading” themselves by posing either nude in Playboy or half-nude in FHM. As opposed to the clothes they aren’t wearing during the Olympics themselves? Have you seen the volleyball team? The swim team? They’re actually less obscene nude. In any case, while I hate both FHM and Playboy, they’re still wrong. Trust me when I say, men don’t care what you wear, we can find a way to masturbate to it. Nudity or near nudity only makes it easier, but we really don’t need it. If we did, tight jeans and tight sweaters wouldn’t cause the trouble they do. Secondly, have you seen the body of the average Olympian, male or female? If I looked like your average swim team or gymnastics member, I’d rid the subway in nothing but a thong. These people have literally worked on themselves since they could walk. They have every reason to be proud of how they look and want to show it off. If you want something to be upset over, be upset that they chose two such lousy photography venues. But I must say, I saw the FHM layout and for once they decided not to make the women look like cheap porn stars (well, not too much anyway). I especially like the tall (6'1"), short-haired, brunette volleyball player. Nothing like a nice Amazon to make a boy into a man. Two of the girls from the FHM layout are also in the Playboy layout and sadly, more nudity isn’t better because the photography so sucks in Playboy and has for years. Their motto of “you can never have too much airbrushing,” is obviously still being followed. But the Playboy layout also includes Olympians from other countries, where they don’t get their panties in a twist over silly shit like this.

“WHERE’S MY HAIR GEL!?!”

I swear I didn’t plan on watching Growing Up Gotti because the only reason we know these people exist is because her father murdered people, period. It’s not far from Growing Up Manson. But I was channel surfing and came across a tender family moment where she tried to instill discipline in these ugly little spoiled brat muthafuckas and was met with nothing but attitude. Between them, Donald Trump and The Hiltons, there should be no doubt left that money cannot buy class. White trash knows no economic boundaries. At one point, one of the little mongoloid shits actually calls his mother a “cocksucker.” WHAT. THE. FUCK? That is something you never say to your mother. I don’t care if she’s got a dick in her mouth at the time (and Victoria looks like she’s had quite a few). You just don’t speak to your mother that way. These guys give guidos a bad name. This is why we mock New Jersey and Long Island the way we do, because this is the type of people they produce. All of the attitude of New Yorkers but with none of the street smarts. And what the fuck is up with the hair gel!?! Not to mention pissing a bitchy little fit over not having it. Gee, I guess your already stiff-ass hair will just have to stand up on its own accord. You know, normally I think those Italian Anti-Defamation groups are just stupid (not to mention cowardly; notice how they never tell anyone actually in organized crime to stop), but I can see how this would set anyone off. And as a Black person I’m used to being publicly embarrassed. You think it’s fun watching Russell Simmons and Puff Daddy trying to get people to vote when they can barely speak fucking English?

YOU’RE BETTER OFF ALONE WITH A HUNDRED CATS THAN LIKE THESE LOSERS

Cuddle Parties. How fucking stupid is this? Fucking losers. Nothing but a bunch of fucking losers. “We don’t want sex, we just want to cuddle.” Bullshit. No straight man alive wants to lie next to a woman and not want to bone her, especially when her ass is pushed into his crotch. I guarantee you half the people leave there and go have sex. And I’m just going to come right out and say this stupidity is only for the Whitest of the White people in the world. White people with too much money, free time and education. No one who works with their hands or never went to college is doing this dumb shit. All a bunch of assholes with useless Graduate degrees. Nor is anyone whose name ends in a vowel or has a history of exploring the sensual possibilities with food or wine is doing this shit. Nope. These are all descendents of the Mayflower this (and maybe a bunch of freaking Canadians). No Blacks, Latinos, Greeks, Italians or even the French. Oh, there are some Asians, but they’re all female, because Janet Whitebread ain’t letting Johnny Chan cuddle up on her, but Dick Whitebread can’t wait to wrap his arms around Suzie Wong.

TODDLER SUPERVISOR NOW GOES ON THE RESUME

So, someone finally made use of the time I have on my hand. I was recruited by Young Married Couple for some babysitting. What I loved most was her recruitment phrase, “Since you are unemployed and socially uncommitted…” “Socially uncommitted!?!” That has got to be one of greatest turns of a phrase I’ve ever heard. It should be on t-shirts. I told my brother and he couldn’t stop laughing and asked, “Does that mean you’re a loser and going to die alone?” I had to tell him that sounded right to me. So, I began my new career as a toddler supervisor. The last time I saw their son was only a few weeks earlier, so maybe this time he would remember me. Besides, I made the best impression by buying him a small Hot Wheels set and a couple of cars to go with it. Nothing endures you to kids like gifts. This time I brought another Hot Wheels set, because the first one was a little lacking. This one had a battery-powered section that propelled the cars around the track, but I’m getting ahead of myself. We didn’t set up the track until after we went to the library. While walking to and from there, he would hold my hand crossing the street, but only crossing the street. As soon as we hit the other side, it was jerked away in no uncertain terms. He would walk on his own, which was commented upon by a woman as we passed her on the sidewalk. The library had a very large kids area and I brought a magazine thinking I would sit and read while he played. Oh, no. We played. And I was not so much a book reader, as someone to look at books with, as he turned the pages himself and much too rapidly for me to read to him. Then there was playing the with numerous toys present, a run-in with a little blonde French girl, who decided she wanted his book (this is where I taught him how to use the word “bitch”) and the destruction of anything I built with the blocks. I would build and he would destroy it instantly. I think he enjoyed that one most of all. Then, as always with kids, a little clock went off in his head and he decided it was time to go. And in good time too, because the diaper was due for a change. His mother asked me to take a shot at getting the shirt he’d been wearing for three days off him, but I was no more successful than she. He had no problem leaving his pants off after the diaper change, though. Another great thing about kids is that they have no problem telling you what they want. He wanted to watch a movie and remembered that I’d brought a few for him. He announced he would choose and, in a manner that warmed my heart, picked Yellow Submarine and once I put it in, he spent the first five minutes totally transfixed by the drug-inspired images on the screen. After that, he would go from being transfixed by the film and impatient that it was taking me so long to put the new Hot Wheels track together. Then mac & cheese was demanded. And after that, peanut butter and jelly where my technique at making a sandwich was critiqued. And you know you’re finally in with a child when they feel free to attack you. This started on the walk back home from the library when he started to amuse himself by calling me “dumb” and “stupid” and a few other words I’m pretty sure he’d made up himself. And by the time the track was done, he’d begun to physically assault me (his head butting technique is sadly literal because his head would literally go into my butt), the final declaration of affection. After Yellow Submarine ended, I was told the Thomas The Train Engine DVD that he’d dropped on the floor was next. This is when I thought maybe I’d made a mistake in refusing to be paid. I was saved from too much Thomas when dad actually got home from work early. I told him I’d saved the track assembly instructions for him, because its destruction was imminent and actually happened moments later. The next time I go we’re going to try a little creative expression with art supplies (crayons, finger paints, etc). I mean, hey, they aren’t my walls.

QUEER GOV FOR THE STRAIGHT STATE

How much fun is the Gay Governor? He is rock solid proof that men are men no matter who they like to fuck. Like any man in power, he gave some he wanted to bone a job they were totally unqualified for. The only difference is this person was a man. Even better is the attempt at a noble stance during his resignation. The way he tried to spin it into something about being a truthful person. Such bullshit! He was going to be blackmailed so he beat the guy to the punch. And I hope the whole sexual harassment thing goes to court, because the Israeli Boy Toy’s case goes right out the window the moment the governor can accurately describe his erect penis. Also fun is the fact that everyone already knew the governor was gay. Even his enemies, but none ever tried to call him one it. Thanks in no small part to his breeding beards. How sad are these women? Then again, they probably looked at the choices they had. You either have straight guys like me, lazy, unmotivated, spending the summer doing nothing but making margaritas, or gay guys with all the ambition in the world, who can give you everything in the world---except their romantic love and affection. They made the right choice (he says, rubbing his little Buddha belly as he reaches for the Cheetos he bought while depositing his unemployment check that afternoon). This way, she’s got a guaranteed book deal and she’ll get to meet Oprah.

A GAY FANTASY COME TO LIFE

I watched the Teen Choice Awards for two seconds and saw, perhaps, the funniest thing. When Tom Welling (a.k.a., Clark Kent) was presenting and all the girls were screaming, they cut to a shot of fellow former model, Ashton Kutcher screaming out, “I love you! I love you, Tom!” I doubted the show could ever get funnier than that, so I stopped watching it.

CHEAP, LAZY BASTARDS

And here’s what you missed if you haven’t been buying CMJ: New Music Monthly. You cheap, lazy bastards:

Critics in other countries are constantly bemoaning the dominance of the Hollywood blockbuster all over the world at the cost of their native film industries. Well, there’s a reason for that: most foreign films suck. Granted most Hollywood films suck too, but at least we don’t pretend otherwise. Case in point, Seducing Doctor Lewis (La Grande Seduction) is one of the biggest film hits in French Canadian history. It’s about an economically depressed small town, so on the ropes, the mayor sneaks out in the night to get a job as a cop in Montreal, leaving it up to the town’s unofficial mayor to save it. A corporation is willing to build a factory there but they must have a town doctor first. To this end they initially blackmail then try and “seduce” a doctor from Montreal into staying by pretending to be the small town of his dreams (they tap his phone to learn his favorite meals and when they learn he loves cricket they pretend to have a team). In other words, imagine the TV show Northern Exposure or the movie Doc Hollywood only half as funny and in French, and if you didn’t think either of those were funny, just imagine your average annoying French film. When this is what your homeland produces, no wonder the latest Jim Carrey vehicle is welcomed with open arms. And if you bemoan the Hollywood tradition of choosing looks over talent, an hour and forty minutes with this less-than-perfect cast will help you develop an appreciation of it. Is it so much to ask that the leading man be good-looking? I notice the local town hottie he takes an interest in manages to fulfill the necessary aesthetic requirements, so why couldn’t the men? Oh, yeah. It’s French. Well, French-Canadian.

OLD MUSIC FOR OLD PEOPLE

My love affair with VH1 Classics continues unabated. I already own Animotion’s “Obsession” but hadn’t seen the video in years. Seeing Rickie Lee Jones made me download the studio versions of “Chuck E’s In Love” and my personal fave “Youngblood” because what I have is her greatest hits live. And who knew Dionne Warwick, Pattie LaBelle and Roberta Flack once did a cover of “Superwoman” together? And the clothes worn by Bell Biv Devoe… Not to mention Jodi Whatley’s kabuki make-up style. What were we thinking in the 80’s? I’ve had the School of Fish album for years, but never knew they had a video for “Three Strange Days.” Great song. Lousy video, stinking with the Seattle rock-hipness of the time.

IT AIN’T CALLED “AMATEUR” PORN FOR NOTHING

I’m sure some heard of this back in September when it happened, but it was news to me when I learned of a cameraman from a small news station in Virginia who made a sex tape in the fucking newsvan. What made this even more interesting is that the girl with him also worked at the newstation. Needless to say, I had to see this and a quick internet search gave it all up and I was able to download the whole thing eventually. What can I say? The more of these Paris Hilton and Pam Anderson amateur home sex tapes that leak out, the more you appreciate the good lighting and solid camerawork from professional porn. Here’s the tape in a nutshell. It’s basically her masturbating, then masturbating with a toy, then blowing him while masturbating, them him using the toy on her, then him trying to fuck her, but being unable to be inside her for more than a stoke before losing control and being told by her, “Don’t come, Raphael!” It’s about 20 minutes tops. Here’s what’s sad about it: she’s in her early 20’s, very cute and pretty much a down-for-anything, no-gag-reflex sexual animal, while he is easily twice her age, doughy and unable to handle more than a few seconds of her at a time before announcing “I’m gonna come on your tits,” which she wisely refuses to let him do. Do we need Freud in here to tell us she grew up without a father to be fucking this sad, sad loser? Hell, just not wanting to be this guy only reinforces my avoidance of younger women. Apparently, neither of them was very bright, because the tape was discovered and they were both fired (the station will officially make no comment on it). But the fun of morons who like to tape themselves fucking will live with us forever.

THIS WEEK’S ROLL CALL OF THE DEAD

Finally, Julia Child dead at 91. Ninety-fucking-one! Take that you all you fucking diet freaks! Cheese and butter forever!

8/09/2004

“Slacking is an unconscious response to a fear of success.” --- Dr. Phil Towle, therapist for Metallica and other bands who obviously doesn’t know a fucking thing about real slacking. I’ll take all the success you wanna give me. So long as I don’t have to do anything.

I’LL SPARE YOU A COLLATERAL DAMAGE JOKE

Collateral opens at number one and this movie had three strikes against it. First, Tom Cruise, in yet another “Give Me An Oscar” role. Two, Jamie Foxx who annoys me just knowing he exists somewhere breathing my air. And finally, the ever-annoying Jada Pinkett “Nobody Knows I Like Pussy” Smith. The woman’s very presence is like nails on a blackboard. So why’d I see it? Michael Mann is a god. Aside from the great Miami Vice (finally coming to DVD this fall, now that the music licensing issues have been solved), he also brought the world Manhunter, Last of the Mohicans, Heat and even made a three hour movie about a tobacco lawsuit exciting in The Insider. If anyone could defeat the three voids in this movie, it would be him. After all, he defeated Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas on a weekly basis. Limited actors like Tom Cruise can actually shine, so long as they’re given limited roles. Like Richard Gere and---Superman forgive me---Christopher Reeve, the roles they do best are very shallow men who discover themselves and sociopaths. Tom Cruise has spent a twenty years on the first, so now he’s wisely moved on to the second, and what do you know? It fits. Yes, Tom Cruise is actually good in a role that requires him to be nothing more than cold, sarcastic and cruel. Hell, some may say he’s not even acting. The story requires tremendous suspension of disbelief, unless you can believe that you can be trapped in a cab with someone in one of the world’s largest cities. I mean, just jump out at any crowded intersection and run like hell. Granted, it is LA and not a real city, but still… And by the last half hour of the movie, just let it go entirely, as Tom Cruise becomes Rambo in the middle of a crowded club, never missing a single shot as he takes on dozens of men. And it’s a “movie” from the word go, like Jamie Foxx picking up Jada Pinkett as a fare, who just happens to be an Attorney for the Justice Department. If you don’t think that’s going to come up again in the third act, then you haven’t been to many movies. But the movie is really about the relationship between Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx, (who manages to keep his asshole persona totally under wraps for the length of the entire film), playing someone emotionally withdrawn and stilted and of course, in true movie fashion, a night out being held prisoner by a criminal helps to bring him out of it. And he finds romance! That never happens to me when I’m the victim of a sociopathic criminal. Usually the sociopath is my love interest. Also, in true movie fashion, the criminal actually has a somewhat wizened soul and is a neverending font of brutal wisdom. But I could have lived without hearing about the perils of wasting one’s life in a job you hate. Especially when it comes out of the mouth of the compulsively driven Tom Cruise.

THERE ARE SOME VILLAGES IN EUROPE NONE OF THEM CAN VISIT

The Village drops 67% like I told you it would. All it took was that first day’s group of unsatisfied audience members hitting their cell phones as they left the theater going on about how they’d just wasted two hours and $10 and had to look at Joaquin Phoenix’s fugly face. No, I’m not going to let it go. He’s one of a trio of failed “short Frankenstein” experiments, whose other two results are Mark Wahlberg and the star of the number three, film, The Bourne Supremacy, Matt Damon. None of these are attractive men, but at least Mark Walhberg got some sort of sex appeal and Matt Damon got some “boy-next-door” charm. Joaquin Phoenix, however, got nothing. And I mean nothing, accept some casting guilt from his brother’s stupid death.

THESE ARE MY BOYS FROM WAY BACK

The Manchurian Candidate is down to number three and if you know anything about Jonathan Demme films, you know he hires people who were with him from the beginning, and this is no exception. On hand here are Ted Levine (Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs), Roger Corman (who gave him and a million others their starts), Dean Stockwell (Tony The Tiger in Married to the Mob), Charles Naiper (hairdresser in Married To The Mob, cook in Something Wild, cop in Silence of the Lambs, etc), Obba Babatunde (Tony’s police guard in Married To The Mob, newscaster in Silence of the Lambs and his wife was Clarice’s roommate), Tracey Walter (the guy who peeps at Michele Pfeifer in Married to the Mob, medical examiner in Silence of the Lambs) and Paul Lazar (the guy with the weird eyes who played Tommy in Married to the Mob and the bug doctor in Silence of the Lambs). And these are just the ones I caught and I’m sure they were all in Philadelphia too. And for some strange reason Walter Mosley, Fab Five Freddy, and Sidney Lumet are also in this.

BIG BLACK MARK ON THEIR RESUMES

Little Black Book opens at number five and could this film look any more wretched? This is so obviously one of those assembly line romantic comedies that give romantic comedies a bad name. You’ve got your couple of one normal, one neurotic who shouldn’t be together to begin with. Put them in a “wacky circumstance” which only works if the neurotic one does something stupid and never actually converses with their partner and voila! Shit on a stick! The real question is what the fuck is Holly Hunter doing in this? Was this an effect of being in Thirteen? Did she just tell her agent, “After that, I’ll take anything light that pays.” And while Brittany Murphy does have her own appeal, her bug-eyed thing can get old very quickly. And what is Ron Livingston doing here as her love interest? First of all, he’s at least a decade older, so they just look weird together. He has to realize that. Last we saw him, he was cuddling up with Sarah Jessica Parker and Jennifer Anniston. Granted, he’s probably appreciative of a face not 50% nose, but now it’s 50% eyes. And if you thought Holly Hunter was odd here, fellow Oscar winner Kathy Bates is also on hand for a quick paycheck and so is Gavin Rossdale, a.k.a., Mr. Gwen Stefani, who obviously needed something to do while his wife was on tour. And poor little Julianne Nicholson, who is one of my favorite actresses, is obviously in this just to pay for her indie work.

THE FUTURE IS NOW

I, Robot is down to number six and for a second I thought it was nice little joke that two beers in the future came to $42, but then I realize that two martinis at any hip club in Manhattan can run you $20-25, so it’s not really that funny after all, just very, very sad.

AND HE ACTUALLY TALKED TO GIRLS

Spider-Man 2 is down to number seven and don’t blink or you’ll miss Stan Lee’s cameo in this one. He was in the first one, The Hulk, Daredevil and actually in X-Men, but not the sequel. Sadly, Jack “King” Kirby who co-created all but Spider-Man (he said he did that one too, but he was full of shit) is dead and has been denied his opportunity of cameos. Steve Ditko, who co-created Spider-Man, is a whack-job recluse and refuses to even be interviewed about his greatest work. Aside from his creative genius, what makes Stan Lee unique amongst creators is the fact he was never short, fat or bald.

GUESS THERE WILL BE NO HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO KFC

Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle is down to number eight and it’s a blow to minorities and the “R” rating that this is doing so poorly. After all, it’s just another dumb slob comedy that might have done better had it been two White guys or some of the nudity and language sacrificed for a PG-13 (can you say “Dude, Where’s My Car?”). That said, one of the reasons I do like it is that they went for the full on “R” complete with gratuitous nudity and discussions on two guys having simultaneous vaginal and anal sex with a woman. Another joke you won’t see anywhere else is their two Jewish buddies (whom he jokingly calls “Manny and Chavitz”) going on about how they’d like to score some Asian pussy. Of course, the humor is in the sad truth of it. More than one Asian and Jewish woman has expressed to me her annoyance over how the sons of Abraham tend to be fascinated with Asian women. Even more than your average White boy---which means they are seriously fucking fascinated. And you have to give it up to any movie that ends with boy getting the girl to Rose Royce’s “I Wanna Get Next To You,” used first and wonderfully in the immortal Car Wash. Remember Franklin Ajaye with the gigantic afro making his move with his car wash duds still on? And in the spirit or ethnic harmony everywhere, the Asian boy hooks up with a Latin girl. Which, of course, makes me think of Asian Cuban cuisine, which is damn good.

B.A.P.S IS NOT GOING TO PAY FOR THAT

A Cinderella Story is down to number nine, followed by Catwoman closing out the top ten at number ten, and my boy, O.G. (Original Geek) and his wife were horrified to read of Halle Berry’s divorce settlement. Because the prenup was signed the day before they married, it was easily thrown out (you have to have time to think about it for it to stick; duress can easily be claimed otherwise). Also, the daughter of Eric Benet has sided with her father (obviously) and to spare her, Halle settled quickly, despite the fact Benet fucked everything under the sun. So now she not only has to buy him a five bedroom $4M home, but pay him $20K a month (to keep him and his daughter in the lifestyle to which they’ve become accustomed) and pay for his lawyers. Now to sum this up, it means he got to have sex with Halle Berry, got to have sex with other women while still having sex with Halle Berry and the result is he gets a $4M home and $240K a year. Okay, maybe I need to stop reading good guy comics and just be the bastard I know I can be. It obviously pays better. But Halle, honey, I think you’d better rethink leaving X-Men 3. You obviously need the money.

LOIS & CLARK THE EARLY YEARS

If you’re a geek, there are still good times to be had on TV even though Buffy and The X-Files are gone. First, of all Lois Lane will be appearing on 13 out of the 22 episodes of Smallville this season. Yeah, baby! Second, Farscape, which was better than any of those lame Star Trek offshoots (and had much hotter women with great Australian accents) is coming back as a mini-series, and finally, Justice League is back as Justice League Unlimited, featuring virtually every hero in DC comics. The first episode starred Green Arrow, Green Lantern, Supergirl and Captain Atom, but in the beginning and the end we saw at least twenty others including---ahem---The Atom, The Elongated Man, Etrigan The Demon, Waverider, Original Vigilante, Black Canary, Red Tornado, Hourman (robotic version), Atom Smasher, Hawk, Dove, Rocket Red, Fire, Ice, Wildcat, Dr. Light II, The Huntress, Metamorpho, Booster Gold, Bwana Beast, Steel, Star Spangled Kid II, S.T.R.I.P.E., The Question, Dr. Fate, Johnny Thunder, Thunderbolt, Vixen, Aztek, Crimson Fox, Crimson Avenger, Gypsy, Nemesis, Mr. Terrific II, Dr. Midnite II, The Creeper, Sand, Steel (Superman version), Red Star, Vibe, The Shining Knight, Zatanna, Starman , Orion, The Creeper, Blue Devil and Obsidian. Oh, yeah, and Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. This Saturday had an adaptation of a great story written by Alan Moore called “The Man Who Has Everything.” In it, Batman and Wonder Woman show up at Superman’s Fortress of Solitude for his birthday only to find him in a seeming trance with a plant growing out of him. It seems the villain, Mongul, sent it to him disguised as a gift from a grateful alien world (to get an idea of this, know that Eric Roberts did the voice of Mongul). What the plant does is to go give you your heart’s desire, so in Superman’s case, he’s dreaming that Krypton didn’t explode, he’s married to a combination of Lois Lane and Lana Lang and living on a farm with their son, Van-El (hardcore geeks know this is the name of one of Superman’s kryptonian ancestors). Mongul then begins kicking Wonder Woman’s ass all over the Fortress, while Batman tries to talk Superman out of his dream-state. Believe it or not, it’s a poignant moment when, to get out of the dream Superman has to allow Krypton to die again and does it while holding on to his son promising to never forget him. Needless to say, when he comes out of it, he proceeds to beat the living shit out of the bad guy in a very un-Superman like rage. Good stuff, people. Good stuff.

NEXT: BEHIND THE MUSIC…OF PORN.

Is it just me, or has VH1 Established an entire sub-roster of shows devoted to porn? Not that I’m complaining, but it does seem rather odd. This time it was part of their “When ____ Ruled The Earth” Series. They focused on that period on the 70’s, when porn viewing was actually somewhat chic, with some of the major stars from that time, including New York favorite, Vanessa Del Rio (what? No Seka? No Kay Parker?). It was entertaining, but I can’t get over how sanitized it was. They talked about John Holmes and his drug problem, but the simple fact is almost all of them had drug problems or alcohol problems. Dr. Sharon Mitchell had a nasty heroin addiction that she only got over when she was raped and almost beaten to death by a crazed fan. My favorite part of the show were the clips from Tom Snyder’s Tomorrow Show. I loved that freaking show! I hated David Letterman for years because Ton Snyder quit because he refused to be pushed back to 1:30 and come on after Letterman. But there is something fun about 70’s porn that today’s video lacks. Maybe it’s the time capsule appeal, maybe it’s all the pubic hair, maybe it’s the overwhelming use of wah-wah guitar, maybe it’s the lack of a single body that’s seen gym time, but actually it may be the simple fact that some of them had actual storylines and could be good. You could actually take all of the sex out of The Opening of Misty Beethoven and still have a very funny satire on the jet set lifestyle of the 70’s.

BAD MUSIC IS IMMORTAL TOO

Speaking of VH1, my VH1 Classics problem continues, as I found myself downloading Glass Tiger, Billy & The Beaters and Quarterflash. Only one of those remained on my hard drive more than 48 hours (hey, those Quarterflash songs stand the test of time). But I’ll draw the line at tall, skinny, pouty-lipped, Bowie-esque Charlie Sexton. What were we thinking? “Beat’s So Lonely!?!” Please.

WHAT? NO “MAGIC MAN?”

My new favorite commercial has to be for Song Airlines, where the middle-aged mom makes her kids form a band with her as she belts out “Barricuda.” It just strikes a chord with me, pun intended.

CONDOMS SAVE MORE LIVES THAN YOU KNOW

Okay, so what’s up with the pregnant wife killing? Whatever happened to just going to the store for milk never coming back? Don’t these people listen to Springsteen? “Hmm, shall I be a runaway dad or a murderer?” How difficult is that decision? Not to mention when you see a guy being tried on TV every day for that very fucking thing! I won’t even get into that idiot football player from a few years back. No, it’s not funny, because only a few states call for a pregnancy test during a violent killing, so the numbers of losers who do kill their wives or girlfriends because of pregnancy is actually higher than you know. But still, when your choice is either “leave” or “kill” who the fuck chooses “kill!?!” This is why I can be a liberal and still believe in the death penalty. Some muthafuckas just deserve to die. Like the idiots who killed six people in Florida over a fucking X-Box. An X-Box! Not even a fucking Playstation! I hate Florida with a passion, but right now I’m glad it’s got a death penalty (one girl was beaten so badly, dental records were useless). See, this is why I have to read Superman and Captain America, to keep myself in check.

BUT WHEN IS DEATH GOING TO KILL THOSE ANNOYING SUBWAY MUSICIANS?

I’ve been saying this my buddy, O.G., for awhile now as a joke, but it’s apparently true: if you’ve ever entertained anyone, anywhere for any reason, Death is coming for you. Now, Rick James, superfreak himself is dead. Years after he probably should have died. Natural causes my ass. The man destroyed his heart with cocaine! Apparently, this was Death’s consolation prize for missing both Ronald Isley (mild stroke) and David Bowie (mild stroke). I mean the guy who announced for the freaking Mets has died and so did one of the guys who illustrated Prince Valiant. I’ll say it again, if you’ve ever entertained anyone, anywhere for any reason, you’re dead. Needless to say, I’m safe, because this site entertains no one but me.

SAD, BUT TRUE

I bought a Nike yoga mat (and a new pair of Nike swimming goggles, thank you sale at Modells!) and my Hot Yoga Instructor noticed and so it made me happy. God knows it wasn’t the freaking mat. I have to wash it because the factory coating is still slippery and when I start to sweat, it just becomes ridiculous. Trying to do goddamn tree bridge poses is hard enough. Of course, this more than justifies my taking advantage of a sale on truffles at Godiva.

8/02/2004

“You know what’s great? Nipples. On women.” --- Me, after seeing a neverending series of headlights one day.

SUBMITTED FOR YOUR APPROVAL

The Village opens at number one and after Signs I vowed M. Night Shyamalan would never get another dime from me for his extended episodes of The Twilight Zone. I actually guessed the “big twist” in this one from just the commercials. It’s very easy. Just think of what The Twilight Zone would do and why, and you have it. What could possibly be the big twist of an Amish-like community? It’s so simple it hurts. Because this has none of the appeal of the others (aliens, ghosts), there’s going to be a massive drop-off next week. This concept is such that it takes the utmost skill to not only pull it off, but also make it scary. The Twilight Zone did it all the time, but I think M. Night Shyamalan’s one trick pony has come to the end of its run. Not even the presence of Adrian Brody can get me into see this. Having fugly Joaquin Phoenix in it doesn’t help.

WONDER HOW HE MADE OUT WITH THAT NAME IN SCHOOL

The Bourne Supremacy is down one notch to number two and Brian Cox is one of my favorite actors. I’ve liked him since he was the original Hannibal Lechter in Manhunter. He had maybe ten minutes of total screen time, but he was amazing. He’s also the best thing about Troy (“Then every son of Troy will dieeeeeeee.”). He plays the same CIA chief role in this one as he did in the first and he’s done it so much the man should get some honorary notice from the spooks. He’s been Mr. Covert Ops in X2, The Glimmer Man (a hysterical role where he’s so appreciative of Steven Segal’s torture tactics that he seems to forget he’s the one being tortured), The Long Kiss Goodnight (again, very funny) and Chain Reaction. And these are just the ones I know of. He is to the CIA what Brian Dennehy is to cops and Michael Biehn is to NAVY Seals.

BUT I SUPPOSE “THE ENRON CANDIDATE” ISN’T NEARLY AS COMPELLING

The Manchurian Candidate opens at number three and like Jonathan Demme’s last attempt to remake a classic the result is time and money best spent elsewhere, but unlike the horrific The Truth About Charlie, this is not something that’s going to be shown in hell to torture people. The original Manchurian Candidate starred Frank Sinatra and was mistakenly believed to have been yanked by The Chairman because of the Kennedy assassination (ironically Sinatra did make a movie about killing a president a decade earlier called Suddenly). It didn’t fare well initially but later came to be realized as a classic and part of it was the satire involved. Well, like his last lousy remake, Demme left the humor out here too. He was too busy making sure you know he’s “commenting on our times now,” whereas the original was almost a decade after the Communist Witch hunts in Congress and refused to be burdened by them. You know full well you’re in post 9/11 America in this by constant references to troop action overseas and a loss of civil liberties here at home, not to mention constant sightings of armed soldiers on the streets of New York City. But this is where Demme shoots himself in the foot almost immediately by having fucking Al Franken as new commentator without even the hint of irony or humor. What. The. Fuck? It would be the equivalent of having Bill O’ Reilly or Rush Limbaugh simply as a newscaster and ask us to ignore what they really are and to take them and the story seriously. Sorry, I can’t go or that, no (no can do). The story is essentially the same. Denzel Washington steps into the Sinatra role as the officer who is tormented by nightmares that tell him his experiences in war are not as he “remembers.” In the original, it was the evil Communists in Korea who were behind it. Here, it’s an American corporation with the unlikely name of Manchurian Global. Give me a fucking break. What American company would ever have that name? Again, this should have been part of the satire, but there’s almost no humor in this film at all. What’s also missing in this film is the humanity of “The Manchurian Candidate” himself. In the original, there’s a degree of poignancy because Lawrence Harvey struggles against his mother and his fate and you find yourself pulling for him. Liev Schreiber has his role here and he does what he can with what little he can, but dropping the romantic subplot completely limits him to just looking uncomfortable a lot. Meryl Streep takes on the famous Angela Lansbury role (only now she’s a senator herself) and she’s just as good. Only she seemed to realize this needed some humor and plays her role as the worst nightmare of a mother to the hilt. Hell, the only thing she’s missing is a broom and flying monkeys. And the more she claims it’s not Hilary Clinton, the more I think she’s lying and the funnier this becomes. This is what the film should been, a “what if” scenario of what if George W. Bush had Hilary Clinton as a mother (not that Barbara Bush is the warm & fuzzy grandmother most think she is). Now that’s funny.

“I’M GOIN’ TO PAHK THE CAH NEAH HAVAHD YAHD.”

I, Robot is down to number four and Bruce Greenwood makes what is little more than a cameo in this as head of the robotics corporation. He’s a great actor who was cheated out of an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of JFK in Thirteen Days a few years back because he was unfortunate enough to be great in a film that starred Kevin Costner. This meant that not only did no one see it, but those who did were too offended by Costner’s horrible attempt at a Boston accent (which is actually more annoying when you get it right because then the honking never stops) that they failed to see the other great work going on around him.

SINK LIKE A STONE

Spider-Man 2 is down to number five followed by Catwoman at number six and let’s take a moment to pity Sharon Stone, reduced to a campy villain and whose name not only doesn’t before the title, but is not mentioned in one single ad (as opposed to Gene Hackman, whose name came before the title, while Christopher Reeve’s name after and the movie wasn’t called “Lex Luthor”). Once, she was the hottest of the hot, as white hot as the outfit she wore in Basic Instinct that made her a star. She was nothing but A-list for a few years after that, but then the misses began to take their toll on her. Sliver was a lame attempt to cash in on her sex appeal from Basic Instinct, but apparently they failed to notice her sex appeal came from her being a total bitch. I personally never found even remotely sexy until the godawful The Specialist. Something in Miami definitely agreed with her. The Quick & The Dead is a personal favorite of mine, but again, they faltered by making her a little too vulnerable to be “The Man With No Name” type of gunfighter (yeah, she really had a name, but so did Clint Eastwood if you paid attention). She got a little heat from her Oscar nod for Casino, but pissed it away just as quickly with Last Dance, Sphere, The Mighty, and an ill-advised remake of Gloria. She was actually funny in The Muse, but the script let her down. Then came her marriage to a moron who lost his toe to a komodo dragon (the dumbass wanted to see it up close but took off his white shoes because the dragon might have mistaken it for the white rats it eats----excuse me, what color are your feet?), her strange attempt at a feud with Gwyneth Paltrow over the latter’s impression of her on Saturday Night Live (as if the actors write the skits!) and the biggest role she had for years, victim of an aneurysm. To add insult to that injury, crap screenwriter, Joe Eszterhas wrote in his book that Stone slept with him out of gratitude for Basic Instinct and that her body was “doughy.” Have you seen a mirror lately, Joe? The only difference is that she’s not covered in a mat of white hair and can probably look down and still see her feet. Sadly, she recently agreed not to sue the producers of Basic Instinct 2 if they finally agreed to make the movie. Sigh. She’s going to wish she’d taken the money and run. I hate to say it, but if she was using body doubles for the first one when she was 34, what do you think is going to be case at 46? Half the budget is going to go to digital touch-ups and personal trainers. Her biggest mistake was never making a movie that would make her into a gay icon. Something gay men all over America could dress up as on weekends and for parades. Handled right, Catwoman could have been that movie for both her and Halle Berry, but now it’s just another strike against the both of them when neither of them could afford it.

EVERYBODY MUST GET STONED

Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle opens poorly at number seven and the reason I never usually see movies like this is because they’re never as funny as their trailers, which usually have the best parts. Well, I went to see this one and I was right. All the best stuff is in the trailers. This is not to say it’s bad. I mean, it is what it is. A stoner comedy. It’s not supposed to be Annie Hall and I damn sure found it funnier than the Cheech & Chong movies I’ve seen, but expectations are low and they do nothing to change that. In fact, the biggest appeal of the movie comes from the stereotype busting of the two leads as two potheads. Well, kinda. Harold is still a straightlaced Korean kid working as a junior analyst (the actor is actually thirty-fucking-two which actually keeps another stereotype alive) and while Kumar is an Indian slacker, he still has perfect MCAT scores. For me, the funniest part was when Neil Patrick Harris shows up as himself as a drug-loving sex fiend who steals their car to go get strippers and says he banged every woman on Doogie Howser. Now that’s funny.

AU REVOIR, FAT MAN

A Cinderella Story is down to number eight, followed by Anchorman at number nine and Fahrenheit 9/11 at number ten, which means this fucking thing will be gone---at least until the elections, when it will probably pop up again.

GUESS THIS KILLS THAT CAPTAIN SCARLET MOVIE

Not even breaking the top ten is Thunderbirds, which is based on a TV show from the 60s’ which used marionettes. Now, I was never a fan, because I’ve always found marionettes creepy as hell. The way they slump over when the strings are dropped is just….(shudder). And what’s with making the heads so fucking big? In any case, making them without the dolls makes no sense at all. I mean, seriously, what is really the difference between a piece of wood and Bill Paxton? And this plot actually violates the show because it’s not really about the team saving the world. They’re they ones in trouble and have to be saved by the youngest member and his pals, making it essentially Spy Kids 4. So the only people willing to see this shit pretty much get pissed on from the word go.

ME HATE BITCHES

Also not breaking the top ten is She Hate Me the latest misogynist effort from Spike Lee. Well, actually, I don’t know that it is because I refuse to see any more Spike Lee movies. I just know that he usually shows women in a less than pleasant light. In He Got Game, all the women were literally sluts or whores and the only good woman was literally dead. That pretty much says it all. So when I heard he was making a movie wherein one of the storylines was about a bunch of hot lesbians paying some guy to impregnate them, I think I was justified in assuming the worst, because not only is it women, but women he has no use for. What makes this really sad is that he hired Tristan Taormino to be his “lesbian consultant.” For those of you not familiar with her, she writes a sex column for The Village Voice and she produced, directed and starred in a porn video called “The Ultimate Guide To Anal Sex” which was based on her book (it did so well they made and sequel and yes, I’ve seen them both). She’s working a whole “Winona Ryder As A Lesbian” vibe, but remains on cordial terms with dick in her life, so this automatically makes her suspect as a “lesbian authority.” I’m thinking you’d probably call her for your bisexual movie, not your lesbian one. In any case, the simple fact that all the lesbians want to fuck this guy for his sperm makes it another straight man’s fantasy. I’m not saying this doesn’t happen. I know for a fact it does, but every single one of them? Not one couple says “Just put your junk in this cup. We’ve got a turkey baster and some Angelina Jolie videos at home. We’ll do it ourselves.” Spike says he’s actually making a point about the myth of “Black sexual superman.” Shit, if he really wanted that, he coulda come to my house. I could single-handedly disproved all of it. Ask for sex when the new Justice League Unlimited is on and see what happens (hint: bring a book). There’s also a subplot about an Enron type company and something about the Black security guard who actually discovered the Watergate break-in. Apparently Spike Lee believes the man never got his historical due. For fucking what!?! Doing his job? He’s not Dr. Mudd (the doctor whose life was ruined after unknowingly treated John Wilkes Booth for the broken leg he sustained after killing Lincoln when he leapt from the box to the stage). Sigh. Sorry, but all these ingredients justifies why I will never see another Spike Lee movie. And it’s two hours and eighteen minutes long.

KEVIN SMITH IS SADLY STILL JERSEY’S SOLE AUTEUR

Yet another film not breaking the top ten is Garden State, the directorial debut of Zach Braff, who stars in Scrubs (a great sitcom not getting its due). He also wrote and stars in it. It’s what we call “character driven” which means it has no plot. It’s also indie film 101. It’s about someone who comes home and “finds themself.” Needless to say, it’s all set in the Garden State of New Jersey. While he’s gotten some good press for having a degree of style, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before and stinks of indie preciousness. So many shots are just so obviously “Hey look at this nice shot!” So are the plot devices. Of course he can’t just drive around in a car, but a vintage WWII motorcycle with a sidecar. And he just can’t have Natalie Portman as a quirky girlfriend. Oh, no. She’s his pathologically lying epileptic girlfriend with an African foster-brother studying criminology and has a pet graveyard that looks like freaking Arlington. And his best friends at home consist of a guy who created “silent Velcro” and now leads a life of wealthy boredom and another who digs graves while collecting Desert Storm trading cards as an investment. And this type of thing never stops. There was perhaps an interesting story to be told about a guy who’d been medicated since the age of nine by his psychiatrist father and decides to go completely off meds to attend his mother’s funeral, but it needed another writer to come in a take a whack at it, as Braniff was obviously too busy casting Natalie Portman as his love interest to try and make it anything more than movies he’d already seen. And did I mention that my Natalie Portman reminds me of my former Arizona Problem? It’s very distracting and annoying.

ANOTHER DAY THE MUSIC DIED

Death continues on its tear, this time turning to music, as not only did legendary film composer Jerry Goldsmith die, but Syreeta ex-wife and writing partner to Stevie Wonder. Shit. That’s a one-two punch. Of course the guy who did the music from everything from Perry Mason to The Twilight Zone to Room 222 to Planet of the Apes to Tora! Tora! Tora! to The Omen to First Blood to Star Trek is a huge fucking loss to movies. Sorry, but fucking Danny Elfman is simply not filling his shoes. And Syreeta. Aside from co-writing stuff like “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” and “Superwoman” she duetted with Billy Preston on “With You I’m Born Again” which was the freaking love song for one of my high school years.

WASTIN’ AWAY AGAIN

So, I didn’t mean to buy a new blender. I didn’t. I swear. I went to buy a cast iron skillet because GQ had this great article on making the perfect burger and you need a cast iron skillet for that. I went to Macy’s because The Former Miss Pretty Boy hates Bed, Bath & Beyond and whenever I go there, I feel like I’m betraying her. It was a wise decision, because Macy’s was in the middle of a huge sale, and not only did I get a set of three cast iron skillets for $8, I also saw an ice crushing blender on-sale for $20. You have no idea how much that ice-crushing means to me. Finally, I can make margaritas the way they’re meant to be made (it’s also glass, whereas my old one was a plastic pitcher). My first batch, it was so frothy and thick it was like a slurpee! I had to eat it with a spoon! For course this had to be duplicated and so virtually every night since then has been Margaritaville. And I have to stop. I think I’m gaining weight purely because of it (well maybe my recent rediscovery of Fruit Loops or the daily chocolate milk intake have something to do with it). But it’s soooo good! Maybe when it cools off I can use the pans. If you know anything about them, you know they have to be “treated” first, which means covered with oil and literally baked. I think the excessive heat of this in my kitchen is what caused my frige’s fanbelt to break, thus killing my ability to make ice. Sigh. We are now leaving Margaritaville. But wait! You can buy ice! So I bought some! Turn this bus around! We’re going back to Margaritaville! I’m drinking one as I write this! Woo-hoo! Daddy’s got a drinking problem! And I’m making them the deadly way, with Grand Marnier. This is what almost killed me once in Jersey.

MY NAME IS ANGRYGEEK, AND I’M A SHOPAHOLIC

I need an intervention. I can never leave the house to buy one thing and not come back without jeans. I just can’t seem to stop buying them. I went out this weekend to get a new towel set because I have a set that I never use and bought simply because a little short-haired French Arab girl was flirting with me once (jerking my chain was her hobby) and told me she’d love to have a towel in that color (light blue) and since she never used it, I never do either. Macy’s was still having a sale so I got a nice rust colored shower towel from Ralph Lauren, but somehow wound up at Dave’s Army & Navy finally buying a style of Levis that don’t hug my balls (it never stopped bothering me that I had to throw all my Levis away). Does a man really need a different pair of jeans for every freaking day of the week?