Again: Wow/Ouch.

That's gotta sting. Nate Patrin onThe Beasties:

"The 'old-school' throwback status they’ve saddled themselves with is such a self-fulfilling prophecy that I’m not even going to bother decrying MCA’s dismissal of other MCs’ styles as 'antique' on 'Three the Hard Way.' Believe it or not, that statement isn’t a pot-kettle-black situation, because 'antique' implies actual value."

Wow.

Dave Queen on those Rhino-reissued Fleetwood Mac albums. Not quite sure what it all means, but me likey:

[The demo version of "Don't Stop"] almost survives without the [guitar] solo due to being the band’s most poignant and probably greatest song, evoking as it does a simpler time when the president blew gentle wafts of crack smoke through his sousaphone instead of masturbating in a coffin on a pentagram.

Zero Tolerance!

Worse: Janet Jackson's jewel-covered nip or this?

Wonder if the FCC will be fining them as per their "Zero Tolerance" policy. Somehow I doubt it.

Terse.

Ouch:

After receiving a complaint from the publisher that a June 22 'Juicy Bits' article on My Life by Bill Clinton infringed on the book's copyright, Slate removed the piece on the advice of counsel.

MVB to Kerry: "Kill some Indians."

The 8th President of the United States, Martin Van Buren, has some words of wisdom for John Kerry over at his blog. Those words? Kill some injuns.

He also has this to say:
"I have heard some rumblings about killing some 'Viet Cong' which may or may not be some kind of Algonquin, but then again it just might be one of those made-up-word, namby-pamby, homo-erotic boys clubs from Yale, which wouldn't be nearly as impressive as say an Iroquois."

Weird-o Sedaris stalkers.

My imaginary friend Uncle Grambo (he of Uncle Tom's Cabin and whatevs.org) got some hilarious hatemail from a deranged David Sedaris stalker. Check it:

From: NAME WITHHELD
TO: markdgraham AT yahoo DOT com
Date: Tue, 29 Jun 2004 22:40:02 -500
Subject: For Shame!

How long have you been reading David Sedaris? My guess is two and one-half years. Don't you think you should give credit to the people who introduced you? Tell me the call numbers for WDET. Who originally had him on his weekly program? How tall is David Sedaris? Where did he grow up? WRONG - not North Carolina. What does his voice sound like? Oh, that's right - you've never driven 400 miles to hear him speak. Do you know me? I think you do. I'm taller than you, I wear a white T-shirt every day and I have sold corkscrews to your father. Good luck.

Another "f you" to Reprise.

Wilco's new record debuts at no. 8.

Crawlling out of a bottle.

I see that the New York Press' Matt Taibbi is attempting to discredit Tim Aaron's boyf (that would be Christopher Hitchens) by throwing ye olde charge"He's a drunk! He's a drunk!" at him. Then the article drifts off into a general media critique blah blah blah.

This is, of course, in defense of He Whose Name We Shall Not Mention, a man he describes as "an ass, and impossible to like as a public figure, and a little loose with the facts, and greedy, and a shameless panderer. But he wouldn't be necessary if even one percent of the rest of us [journalists] had any balls at all."

Amen to that.

Real Life Rock Top 10.

Greil Marcus used to write a column for Salon.com called "Real Life Rock Ten." That was the inspiration to start the Tuesday/5 item list column. Little did I know that after Marcus left Salon, he kept doing it for the Minneapolis City Pages. Of course I discover this when it's announced that he's retiring the column for the next year or so. C'est la vie.
Anyway, if you're interested, here's the final column:
City Pages: Real Life Rock Top 10

(Hat tip to Large Hearted Boy for finding Greil and the fonts.)

Font whore.

Yup, I am a font whore.
And now you can share in my obsession by going to this nifty site. There you can download a whole bunch of pop culture-related fonts.

Now Jessica--er, J.B.--can have the exact Murder She Wrote font, Tom can get the Calvin & Hobbes font and Josh can get the Papa Roach font. It's fun for the whole family.

Amusing.

Scott (over at Stereogum) publishes an email from his mom:

-----Original Message-----
From: Mom
Sent: Tuesday, June 29, 2004 11:18 PM
To: Stereogum
Subject: Hi

Hi Scott. We saw Kill Bill 1 last night. I don't understand why they killed Uma Thurmond's wedding party. She said Bill killed 9 innocent people. If she was an assassin, how innocent could she be? Love, Mom

Exactly.

Sasha nails what's wrong with that wack-ass Beasties video:

"And the video? Mayhem at the nostalgia buffet, everyone grabbing and nobody's got a plate. Guys, it's all in your head now—we can't see it or hear it. "

I should give the album a chance (I guess), but man, is that video discouraging.

WTF?

ABCNEWS.com : Rowling Announces Title of Potter Book: "No word yet on when the next Harry Potter book comes out, but at least there's a title: 'Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.' "

Mary-Kate!

What the Star cover says:


What it really means:


Thanks to Defamer.

Check out who blogs for VH1.

Check out this link to VH1's Best Week Ever blog. The post isn't so big (Brit is preggers. A 10,000 Maniacs joke. Woo-hoo.) as the fact that Wil Wheaton posted it. I would make a Star Trek: TNG joke here, but will leave that to Tom.

Love it.

Paris caught admiring her own porn video (via Defamer/Fleshbot.

2 + 2 = 5

1 and 2) "Extraordinary Machine" by Fiona Apple and "I Know What It's Like" by Miranda Lee Richards.
I've said it before, I'll say it again: the return of the Apple is cause for celebration. Forget the haters, this track is deliriously good and a bold step in a new direction. My compulsive playing of the track made me dig out another great piece of Jon Brion-produced female-singer/songwriter pop... Miranda Lee Richards' "I Know What It's Like."
Despite the association, the two tracks couldn't be more different. "Extraordinary Machine" is upbeat, musically sparse and lyrically complex. "I Know What It's Like" features a few evocative, snap-shot lyrics, a melancholic vocal melody and Jon Brion going the kitchen sink route by playing the following instruments (at least according to the liner notes): "Chamberlin, optigan, bass, percussion bells, Marxophone, guitar and various foreign instruments." It might be a tad on the baroque side, but man does it work.

3) Gouge (documentary on the new Pixies DVD).
The documentary itself is fun (if fawning and not all that illuminating), but its real coup is that the good people of Channel 4 managed to snag quite a few A-list Pixies fans to gush on camera. Among them: David Bowie, Thom Yorke, PJ Harvey, Johnny Greenwood, and Badly Drawn Boy. Best bit: Mr. Greenwood announcing that the reason Radiohead has drifted away from guitar based music is "there are only so many ways to rip off the Pixies."

4) James Agee's review of You Were Meant For Me.
Allow me to reprint the entire review:

"You Were Meant For Me. That's what you think."

5) Casa Vega's original margarita on the rocks, no salt.
Hey Tito, next time your Mom leaves empanadas and Coke, tell her to sub out the Coke and drop one of these. Thanks.

Tom & Jessica...

...when you signed up for your blogs, I bet you didn't know that meant doing some homework. Now you do.

The interweb never fails to inspire...

Brilliance. Pure brilliance.
MenWhoLookLikeKennyRogers.com

831.

That's the number of times the word "fuck" was uttered on the first season of Deadwood. This handy website is keeping track (episode by episode, in 10 minute segments).

Pier, Mark... enjoy. This post is for youse.

Well that's good to hear...

Iron Mike sez: "I ain't the same person I was when I bit that guy's ear off."

He also admits to taking cash handouts from "unsavory characters" and living on the street like "a street bum." Poor Mike. His life is turning into a Dickens novel.

Half-time report.

Esteemed film critic Richard Roeper gives us his 10 best/worst list for the first half of '04.

"10 best movies, in random order

* 'The Terminal'
* 'Shrek 2'
* 'Baadasssss!'
* 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'
* 'Kill Bill Vol. 2'
* 'Spider-Man 2'
* 'Fahrenheit 9/11'
* 'The Passion of the Christ'
* 'The Dreamers'
* 'Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story' (you heard me)

10 worst movies, in no particular order

* 'The Whole Ten Yards'
* 'Godsend'
* 'Connie and Carla'
* 'Van Helsing'
* 'Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed'
* 'Johnson Family Vacation'
* 'Garfield: The Movie'
* 'Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius'
* 'Against the Ropes'
* 'The Girl Next Door'"

Quote of the day.

"The other thing that interests me about The Eagles is that I hate them."
--Michaelangelo Matos.

Bling by Zales.

Funny Britney shit over at Stereogum.

Ummmmm! I'm telling!

Pier! Pier! Josh is blogging about--ch--l -o--e again.

Hey y'all, check me out.

Check out her, um, guns.
(Thanks for the link Timmy.)

2 + 2 = 5 (bonus all Wilco edition)

I realize that it's not Tuesday, but I've been so consumed with Wilco lately and wanted to blog about various Wilco related things that I thought I would throw an extra 2 + 2 = 5 up.

(1) A Ghost is Born.

The new album is finally here. I need to listen to it a few more times before I pontificate on it at any length, but on the first few listens it didn't disappoint. Things I especially like:
Tweedy's raw, skeletal guitar solos.
The Neu-like groove of "Spiders (Kidsmoke)."
This lyric from "I'm a Wheel": "Once in Germany someone said 'nein' / One two three four five six seven eight nine."
The re-recorded "Handshake Drugs."
Etc.

(2) The packaging/art direction of A Ghost Is Born (art direction by PictureBox Inc.).
The crew of PictureBox did an outstanding job. The photography, the egg motif, the typography... Some of the nicest, most cohesive packaging I've seen for an album in a while. I especially love that the title reads (I have to type it out as I don't know how to recreate the symbol here): Wilco (is less than or equal to) a ghost is born. Excellent.

(3) Chapter 7: "There Was A Time, That Time Is Gone" (chapter from Greg Kot's Wilco: Learning How to Die).
A breathless recounting of Uncle Tupelo's breakup. Might just be the best chapter in the entire book.

(4) The deleted scenes on the I Am Trying to Break Your Heart DVD.
A wealth of great material that just didn't make the cut. Personal favorites: watching Jeff Tweedy do the running man while listening to "I'm The Man Who Loves You" and Fred Armisen imitating Tweedy ("I am Jeff Tweeeeedy... I am from the New York... I like the discos...").

(5) "A Magazine Called Sunset" outtake from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
Too poppy and upbeat for inclusion on YHF, it found its way onto the internet-only ep More Than The Moon. This is a good thing as this song is just too damn great to be lost forever. If you don't have it, seek it out.

Can it be?

Illustrious BU prof and Cassavetes apostle Ray Carney has nothing to do with the Criterion Cassavetes box set? Yowza.

Nerd alert.

Somebody is getting their HTML-encoding on. Dizzamn.

My new favorite blog.

My new favorite blog (aside from Tom's and Jessica's) is whatevs.org. Funny as shit. Great name. Plus use of the word "Huzzah."

Huzzah indeed.

Estrogen! Someone with lady-parts is here!

The blog revolution is unstoppable! Jessica's got a blog, too! Yipee!

It's official: Manohla's at the NYT.

She's there. Gawker posted the internal memo. They picked shitty clips, but what can you do? (And I don't get the "tickets cost a buck" joke...)

Here's the memo:

To: The Staff
From: Jon Landman
June 25, 2004
Our search for a new movie critic is over. We looked high, we looked low. We looked east, north and south. And west, which is where we found this:

"'Mean Girls' so totally [Hearts] mean girls."

And this:

"Hollywood was built on pulchritude, but for most of movie history our attention was principally focused on the desirability of its women, not its men. Norman Mailer wrote famously about Marlon Brando, but in the early 1970s he published a book about Marilyn Monroe.

In the decades since, the women's and gay rights movements irrevocably altered how we look at men, on screen and off. Aided by new media outlets, these liberation movements freed the male body (or enslaved it, depending on your view), turning it into a socially acceptable field of desire and one very hot commodity. Finally, straight men could be exploited for their looks just like women by conforming to an ideal of beauty -- ripped and stripped of hair -- largely borrowed from gay culture.

Gay or not, male actors and stars are more brazenly sexualized now, namely because they're also more feminized. In the past, Hollywood stars were unmistakably he-men; these days, they all whisper come hither like hard bodied Marilyns."

Not to mention this:

"Why oh why did they make it like that,
oh why did they ruin 'The Cat in the Hat'?"

These are clips from the highlight reel of Manohla Dargis of The Los Angeles Times, as lively, intelligent and passionate a picture show as you're likely to find this side of Tony Scott. Manohla has been writing about movies for 17 years, in The Village Voice and LA Weekly among other places.

Now she will write for us. Observing the film scene from Los Angeles, Manohla will become our first-ever chief West Coast movie critic, joining Tony and Stephen Holden in a partnership that gives movie lovers something remarkable to look forward to. Tony will retain his title of chief critic and share the role with Manohla.

Nobody is more excited about this arrangement than Tony, and we could never have snagged Manohla without his enthusiasm, leadership and generosity. Tony wanted to work with, and be challenged by, the most interesting critic he knew, and that was Manohla. He was determined to help build the most exciting team of critics anywhere, and was happy to share the prerogatives of his position to do it.

Manohla will start on Aug. 2. Tickets cost a buck.

Agee.

I can't believe it took me this long, but I finally own James Agee's collection of film crit Agee on Film. What's great about Agee--who wrote about film from 1942-1948 for both Time and The Nation--is that his writing is usually more remarkable than the film he's covering. Pauline Kael was lucky and got to write about profoundly great films. Agee was often covering bland WWII pictures. But the man can write.

I especially love this excerpt from an essay on John Huston. (OK, so he wasn't always covering blah films.) Agee might be explicitly addressing Huston and his work, but it seems to speak to all great filmmaking.

"Most movies are made in the evident assumption that the audience is passive and wants to remain passive; every effort is made to do all the work--the seeing, the explaining, the understanding, even the feeling... Huston's pictures are not acts of seduction or of benign enslavement but of liberation, and they require, of anyone who enjoys them, the responsibilities of liberty. They continually open the eye and require it to work vigorously; and through the eye they awaken curiosity and intelligence. That, by any virile standard, is essential to good entertainment. It is unquestionably essential to good art."

Quote of the day.

"Why is everyone trying to make themselves look like Janis from The Muppets?"

--T. Aaron upon seeing a clip of the new Brandy video.

From the unfortunate names dept.

I feel for her.

(Props to Paskind for the link.)

Probably not the reaction that WB wants.

From a Defamer post on last night's F__r______ _/_1 event at the CineramaDome. Not to fear, this is about a trailer.

"The best moment came when the final trailer bowed. It was for the movie musical Phantom of the Opera. I have a soft spot for Phantom. It was the first Broadway show that I ever saw. And this trailer was savvy, it lured me in, because there wasn't any singing. I couldn't compare their Phantom to Michael Crawford because they just used the overture. I was being seduced. It looked huge, the spectacle, the grandeur, the chandelier! Here's my $14! But then the credits roll and it says 'A Joel Schumacher Film' -- and the entire Cinerama Dome bursts into laughter."

TOMMY HAS A BLOG!

With a great name, too! Huzzah!

Creeeeeeepy.

As if Josh's King of Peace post wasn't great enough, he threw in a link to the Real Doll website.
Oh the Real Dolls. I hadn't visited the site since college, when I would constantly change BG's computer wallpaper to pictures of weird-ass Real Dolls. In the three or four years since... they have gone off the deep end. You want an example? Well, let me introduce you to Anna Mae. Enjoy:

More proof of the left's hatred of God.

I can't believe that this made the NYT op-ed page, but I like it. (I'm sure Hannity, O'Reilly, Sully et al can believe it and will harp on it blah blah blah).

Best of the bunch:

YAHWEH SCHMO (SPIKE) In this first-ever 'divine reality' show, a group of actors seeks to fool the Omnipotent Lord of Creation (currently being 'retooled').

Goodbye to the DUMB section...

PL breaks some sad news.

Manohla!

Tim's got a link to Niki Finke's LA Weekly story on Manohla Dargis replacing Elvis Mitchell at the NYT. If this is true (and Niki usually has this shit down), it's great news. Manohla's writing is consistently smart and entertaining. Dave Poland must be pissed.

UPDATE: Yeah, so clearly Dave is grumpy. Herer's the headline that ran at moviecitynews.com:
"Manohla Dargis Heading From The LA Times To The NY Times As More A Columnist Than A Critic... Which Is Just About Perfect."
Yes the Finke piece did say that they loved her columns and that was a huge plus. But there's something smug about the phrasing, methinks. Manohla's "columns" are typical newspaper columns. They're more like the long-form essays that one would find in Sight & Sound or Film Comment. Among her most famous "columns" was one in which she slammed the relentless nostalgia/hyperbole for 1970s filmmaking. It didn't go over well and brought out the ire of, among others, Peter Bart who sniped "I don't remember seeing you around in the '70s" or some other equally irrelevant statement.

Urbane = gay.

A funny/awkward interview with Stephin Merrit that covers Cole Porter, Judy Collins and what the word urbane really means. (For a hint, see the the title of this post.)

Moving on(.org).

Josh, ever the literalist, took my snarky pseudo-Oprah terminology and ran with it. Whatevs.

The point is: whether we like it or not (and whether we discuss him or not) at this moment in time, Michael Moore is very much relevant. He is the most talked about filmmaker of the moment with the most-discussed film of the moment. (Again: thanks be to Shiva for the end of The Passion discourse.) Plus he is viewed by many to be an important voice in the political realm. Add in essays and op-ed pieces weighing in on the movie/hype from nearly every columnist, writer and/or thinker that I read regularly... and, well, that's a lot of blog fodder. With that equation it would be silly for me to ignore it and not post on it at length.

Unlike Pier's herpes, this shit is almost out of my system.

I can't stop changing all the time.

Let us all give thanks for new Fiona Apple material. For the intricate wordplay. For Jon Brion's (always) inspired and eclectic production. For the way she sings "extraoridnary." But most of all: for the return of that voice.

Now let us pray that Sony comes to its senses and releases the album (Or, at the very least, the angels over at Nonesuch swoop down and save it.)

Oh is that what you meant?

Oh, ok, you don't want to hear any more Moore shit. Yes, I understand that, of course. But here's the thing: that f-ing film of his is intersecting... well, everything right now. No matter where I turn, that shit is impacting. I turn on CNN. Check. I got to Moviecitynews.com. Check. Slate? Check. Pick up Sight & Sound. Check. Listen to Howard Stern. Check. The New Yorker? Check. Add all that to my baggage with the man... and, well, that's all going to be reflected in my blog. I mean, can you imagine if we had blogs back in Feb when Hatred of Jews... er, Passion of the Christ was in theaters?
I understand it's tedious. Let me just work through this shit and it'll all be over. Soon. I promise.

Back online.

After being in the dark for two years, CriterionDVD.com is back online. It's still being set up and a lot of the features aren't running, but it looks promising.

It seems more like a commerce venture in this incarnation, but there's still plenty of Criterion-geek appeal (each title is broken down and has screen shots, reviews, images of the front/back/inside/spine/etc.).

Plus they are working on creating a My Library function that allows you to keep track of what you have, what you want, what you think of what you have, blah blah blah. Some good stuff over there.

No comprende.

Sorry dude, didn't understand that one.

Stoppard/Kushner/LaBute

It's bland and fluffy (thatnks USA Today!) but I thought I would pass along this story on playwrights in H'wood.

Twisted.

God in heaven, I don't think John Waters could dream this shit up.

Whoa.

Good Plastic Surgery has before and after pics of Jessica Simpson. The 1999 pic is craaaaazy. Someone got a whole new face.

Oh and check out the work that was done on her boobies. Impressive.

As for not so impressive boobie work, check out this horrifying shot of Courtney Love. Scary.

Durst blog update.

I haven't posted anythng from Fred Durst's blog lately, so I give youthis moment of zen:
"in the grand scheme of things a typical human life is like a blink of an eye. the days that seem like an eternity become so insignificant when looking at the big picture, but what is the big picture anyway? each person's picture is the size they feel it to be. predicting the future or assuming that a specific amount of time is in your future is ridiculous yet normal. making each day as important as the first seems to be the key. i lose my keys a lot. every once in a while i get a new one made and it works like a charm for a bit. then, mysteriously, they disappear again and so on. meaningless blubber. give me life. i'll take it."

Zach attack.

Uh oh. Salon's Stephanie Zacharek dismisses F9/11 in a review dripping with sarcasm. The best bit:
"Just after 9/11, Moore wrote a publicly circulated letter musing about the meaning and possible causes of the attacks. In the letter, Moore talked out of all 16 of sides of his mouth, first expressing sorrow over the tragedy, then attributing the attacks to Americans' desire for cheap sneakers, and later intoning wisely, 'It's much easier to get us to hate when the object of our hatred doesn't look like us.'

But somewhere in there, he also wrote, 'Am I being asked to believe that this guy who sleeps in a tent in a desert has been training pilots to fly our most modern, sophisticated jumbo jets with such pinpoint accuracy that they are able to hit these three targets without anyone wondering why these planes were so far off path?'

Well, gosh, Michael -- yeah. The lesson learned? Third-world tent dwellers do the darnedest things. It's a shocking and unpredictable world that we little people live in. At least we have Michael Moore to explain it all for us. "

More props.

I threw up the fisking of Hitchens almost as a joke. I have been harping on Moore for so damn long that I wanted to provide a counter point. Of course, the counter point was kind of silly, but it's gotten some attention so I put it up (with just a few minor comments of my own).

Adding to an already great day in the happy blog hamlet of Fagistan, Josh responded with stunning force and eloquence. He ain't fuckin' around, he goes for the jugular:

"A parting question for all antiwar leftists out there (I am one, after all): How do you say 'We should not have gone to war with Iraq,' without meaning, 'Saddam should still be in power?' Until we can answer that with a straight face, and without twisty logic, we have no business criticizing the president. He, at least, had something vaguely resembling a plan."

Bravo, dude. Bravo.

The lost patriots of Hollywood.

My girl--Ms. Malkin--embraces her inner-Kael. Her film crit is... well, expansive and profound.

I Heart Wonkette.

Wonkette: perfecting the art of snark.

Donald Rumsfeld: Marathon Man

From the latest revelations about the administration's policy on prison abuse, we note this challenge from famed standing-desk proponent Donald Rumsfeld to the proposal that prisoners should not be forced to stand for more than four hours at a time: "I stand for 8-10 hours a day. Why is standing limited to 4 hours?"

This sort of explains everything, no? At some point last winter, our new standard for what constitutes torture became the pain threshold of Donald Rumseld. . . and he's so tough! Snarling dogs mean nothing to the man. He's the kind of guy who volunteers to be on the bottom of the naked prisoner pile. And forced masturbation? He eats forced masturbation for breakfast.

Guile on Phish/Jay-Z

From a thread on Jay-Z at the Phish show (found at the I Love Music message board):

Wow, That means there were a whopping 3 black dudes at that show.

(Jay Z must have at least 2 bodyguards)

-- Guile, June 20th, 2004.

Fair & Balanced.

Here's a fisking of Hitchens' Slate piece on Moore. I'll let y'all judge the merit of Chris Perry's argument. Just two quick points:
1. I like that Perry thinks we are supposed to ignore the attack on Moore becuase... you guessed it: Hitchens had the nerve to write a book knocking Mother Theresa!

2. Perry tries to paint Hitchens as a "partisan hack." Er, yes he supports the war, but apparently Perry missed the bitching and moaning from the Fox News crew when Hitchens wrote a scathing obit that called the just-deceased Gipper... what was it? Dumb as a hedgehog?

Props.

Props to Mr. Gibson. Today's Fagistan is particularly hilarious and mean. His evaluation/obit of Mattie Stepanek is... well... tender and loving. (I mean what do you expect from Josh when he's memorializing a brilliant 10 year old poet with MS?)
And today's entry on Josh's beloved Delilah is pretty f-ing smashing. That's why I called her show and said: "Delilah, I so admire my friend Josh's blog. Would you play a song that expresses my admiration for him?"
She asked if I was feeling more than admiration for this mysterious blogger.
I said: "You mean do I want to know Josh carnally? No. Just play a goddam song, bitch."
So she played Mariah Carey's "Butterfly."
True story. It was touching.

Deleting the distraction.

It's funny, Tom and I had to do the same thing (with Josh)in our film two production.

One Moore.

I know I know, I need to shut the fuck up about Moore and his movie and all that bidness. I wanted to post this little temper tantrum/fib from Mikey. Is it me or has he totally lost any sense of humor that he once had?

Here's an excerpt from the LA Times: Truth teller or story stretcher?

fter spending two hours at lunch with Michael Moore the other day, the biggest shock for me was learning that when it comes to "Republican hacks" — his phrase, not mine — the man he seems to loathe the most isn't George Bush but Jay Leno. "He's banned me from his show for 10 years," contends Moore, who does a wickedly funny Leno impression. "Then, after my Oscar speech, I thought he went out of his way to incite violence against me by showing 'Michael Moore's house' being blown up. It was a frightening time for me — my house in Michigan was vandalized. And he'd have James Woods and other guests on and incite them to criticize me."

Tugging on his signature baseball cap, this one with a "Made in Canada" logo, Moore says Leno changed his tune, inviting him to appear after the filmmaker's incendiary "Fahrenheit 9/11" documentary won the coveted Palme d'Or at the Cannes film festival. "Of course I said no."
....
[Leno's people] offered an account at odds with Moore's. They said that far from being banned, Moore was invited to appear after Cannes and was asked to be on the show twice in recent years, most recently after "Bowling for Columbine" won the Oscar for best documentary and Moore gave an inflammatory acceptance speech. After hearing of Moore's charge about showing his house being blown up, Leno went back and watched the tape, which he said shows not a house but a shack in the desert being hit by a missile. Through his publicist, Leno said, "If the jokes bothered him, I wish Michael would have called. Or he could have come on the show. I was just telling jokes about what made headlines, and that included him."

Leno's producer, Debbie Vickers, added: "Michael may feel he has a feud with us, but I know of no feud we have with him."

Quote of the week.

Excerpted from item no. 1 on Josh's Wrathful and Gloomy list:

"If you are looking for a big tough guy who works hard who you can turn in a big blushing princess/baby being paddled and treated with tender loving rape... then I am your sissy slut."

Wow. I believe that's what one calls "poetry in motion."

For all your fajita needs...

...click here.

(Thanks Stereogum.)

2 + 2 = 5

1) The gooback episode of South Park.
For not only distilling the entire illegal immigrant controversy into a hysterical 23 minutes farce, but for introducing the phrase "THEY took ourrrrrrrr jobs" into the lexicon.

2) Emma Nelson (as played by Miriam McDonald), character from Degrassi: The Next Generation.


Oh the joys of The N's* Degrassi: The Next Generation. It's a high school drama that's painfully earnest, politically correct and Canadian. The heart and soul of the show is Emma, a nerd-cutie who is all legs and really into the enviorment, school work and black guys. She's having a rough time what with her step-dad on chemo and an ex-boyfriend who is prone to making out with sluts in the hallways and stealing computers from classrooms. Despite all this, Emma keeps on truckin' and makes straight As. And I love her.

* For those unaware, The N is a channel aka Noggin. See Nickelodeon has this spin-off channel called Noggin. In the morning and afternoon they play shit for babies... Like Teletubbies. In the evening they switch it over to tween heaven and that's when it gets interesting (and that's when they start calling it The N).

3) "Venus Stop the Train." Demo/outtake from Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
A pop song that, in four minutes, conveys the following: it's winter break and you're home from college. It's raining outsude, melting the snow and turning the ground into sludge. You're at some party, you've smoked a little pot and there's this girl that's kind of obsessed with you and you'd like to make out with her, but you know it'd be a bad move. You leave the party, go home and lay awake in your bed until 4 in the morning, wondering if you did the right thing.

4) AIR playing with the Hollywood Bowl Symphony Orchestra / Sept. 26, 2004.
That's right, the concert hasn't even happened yet and I don't give an F. This was such amazing news and I have been waiting to see those frogs for so long that I am putting it on my list. So there.

5) The Camel Toe Report - www.cameltoe.org (website).


For all your camel toe picture needs.

Reminder.

Tomorrow is Tuesday.

Bad sex with Neal Pollack.

As he is part of the McSweeney's crew, I am so over Neal Pollack. But I had to laugh at this entry (from Nerve.com's Bad Sex with Neal Pollack by Neal Pollack):

Like a master locksmith, I quickly unzipped her pants and inserted two fingers. They began to wiggle around, seeking land.
   "Oooh," she said. "Ooooh, boy."
   "You like it?" I said.
   "Phew," she said. "Oh gosh."
   I looked up at her face, which showed no ecstasy.
   "What?" I said.
   "Did you wash your hands after dinner?" she said.
   "No."
   "I think some of that pepper juice is still on your hand. It might be burning up my vagina."
   "Oh," I said. "Do you want me to keep going?"
   "That's sweet of you to ask," she said. "But I don't think so. Hoo! Gosh!"
   Thank God she was Canadian. They're so polite.

Be still my heart.

Christopher Hitchens on Michael Moore. It's almost too perfect:

"To describe this film as dishonest and demagogic would almost be to promote those terms to the level of respectability. To describe this film as a piece of crap would be to run the risk of a discourse that would never again rise above the excremental. To describe it as an exercise in facile crowd-pleasing would be too obvious. Fahrenheit 911 is a sinister exercise in moral frivolity, crudely disguised as an exercise in seriousness. It is also a spectacle of abject political cowardice masking itself as a demonstration of 'dissenting' bravery."

And one more:

"Some people soothingly say that one should relax about all this. It's only a movie. No biggie. It's no worse than the tomfoolery of Oliver Stone. It's kick-ass entertainment. It might even help get out "the youth vote." Yeah, well, I have myself written and presented about a dozen low-budget made-for-TV documentaries, on subjects as various as Mother Teresa and Bill Clinton and the Cyprus crisis, and I also helped produce a slightly more polished one on Henry Kissinger that was shown in movie theaters. So, I know, thanks, before you tell me, that a documentary must have a "POV" or point of view, and that it must also impose a narrative line. But if you leave out absolutely everything that might give your "narrative" a problem, and throw in any old rubbish that might support it, and you don't even care that one bit of that rubbish flatly contradicts the next bit, and you give no chance to those who might differ, then you have betrayed your craft. If you flatter and fawn upon your potential audience, I might add, you are patronizing them and insulting them. By the same token, if I write an article and I quote somebody, and for space reasons put in an ellipsis like this (…), I swear on my children that I am not leaving out anything that, if quoted in full, would alter the original meaning or its significance. Those who violate this pact with readers or viewers are to be despised. At no point does Michael Moore make the smallest effort to be objective. At no moment does he pass up the chance of a cheap sneer or a jeer. He pitilessly focuses his camera, for minutes after he should have turned it off, on a distraught and bereaved mother whose grief we have already shared. (But then, this is the guy who thought it so clever and amusing to catch Charlton Heston, in Bowling for Columbine, at the onset of his senile dementia.) Such courage."

Well-balanced parents and their gifted kids.

Josh shows his good sense and gives some love to Showbiz Moms & Dads. (Or maybe he's just showing more love for salon.com. I don't know.)

Either way, while we're on the subject of the greatest reality program on the air, allow me to remind you of the show's true breakout star, the awesomely untalented Shane Klingensmith. His Mom gave an interview with Bravo online that is truly creepy.

Here's the best part:

When did it first occur to you that Shane might have a future in show business?

DEBBIE KLINGENSMITH: Shane always liked being on stage. I didn't pay a lot of attention to Shane and that kind of stuff mainly because I had a daughter dying of cancer. When Robin died, Shane was two and a half years old. I kind of had to get my life back together. It was very devastating to lose my daughter. She had a fabulous voice; she was an awesome entertainer. You never really think you're going to get two in the family.
Shane started showing signs of liking to do this around the age of three. I held off until he was seven. He had done modeling and stuff like that — some modeling competitions and some shoots — and he finally put his foot down and said, "dagnabit, I can sing and I want to entertain!" That's when I realized that Shane was not going to take "no" for an answer. You have to have a child that wants to do it.

If I had a TiVo, I would be TiVoing this shit...

On July 18th, the Sci Fi Channel is going to air a three hour doc entitled The Buried Secret of M. Night Shymalan. The doc originated as a fluffy PR piece for Night's upcoming movie The Village. Night became increasingly uncomfortable with the doc crew and the questions they were asking and things go sour. And of course, cameras were rolling and captured it all. Sci Fi is keeping mum about the whole thing, but it smells like a winner. For more info click here.

There's a new Wilco record about to drop? Really?

Kalefa Sanneh explores the brilliance of--and the unrelenting hype surrounding--Wilco.

I've avoided listening to the new record until I buy it in stores tomorrow, but I am reading Greg Kot's Learning How to Die-- a chronicle of how Wilco got to where it is today. Sanneh is dead on in his/her (I have no clue as to the gender of Sanneh) assessment of the book ("invaluable but infuriating") and delivers this excellent dig at Kot:

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was eventually released by Nonesuch, which was known, Mr. Kot writes, "for putting out beautifully packaged, pristinely recorded albums that found an audience the old-fashioned way: through word of mouth, with an occasional assist from National Public Radio and the more adventurous Triple-A commercial stations." Ah yes, "the old-fashioned way," when rock 'n' roll fans would sit around the campfire listening to "All Things Considered." There must be something about Mr. Tweedy's strained and battered voice that makes fans nostalgic — sometimes indignantly so — for an imaginary past.

I love when critics get called out on that faux-nostalgic b.s.
More Wilco coverage from me at a later date.

America's Favorite Seething Man-Child

David Edelstein is waaaaaaay too nice to monkeyboy Stiller.

It's true...

...Phish did perform "99 Problems" and "Big Pimpin'" with Jay-Z (or to use the parlance of the hood, Jigga) in Coney Island.

Busted!

Has Joshua been tattling on Susie? And to Sully no less?It sure looks like it:
"QUOTE OF THE DAY: '... Sontag's elitism has an exclusionary malevolence that goes well beyond the notion of a priestly caste of artists and thinkers. As early as 1964, she attributed the cinema's relative security from hordes of interpreters in part to 'the happy accident that films for such a long time were just movies; in other words, that they were understood to be part of mass, as opposed to high, culture, and were left alone by most people with minds.' That use of 'people with minds' as a synonym for literary intellectuals has always ruffled me, since the unavoidable corollary is that people who aren't literary intellectuals don't have minds. And that's offensive... Sontag is noticeably reticent on the subject of her own family, and the few spots where she does refer to it give off a whiff of contempt... but then, Sontag has always had a low opinion of her fellow citizens, predicated on the embarrassing robustness of American bad taste. For her, vulgarity is a mortal sin rather than a venial one. 'Today's America,' she scowled in 1966, 'with Ronald Reagan the new daddy of California and John Wayne chawing spareribs in the White House,' (as a Southerner, I resent that), 'is pretty much the same Yahooland that Mencken was describing.' Then she got really high-handed: 'After America was won, it was filled up by new generations of the poor and built up according to the tawdry fantasy of the good life that culturally deprived, uprooted people might have had at the beginning of the industrial era. And the country looks it.' That's some fairly supercilious class bias to be issuing from the granddaughter of immigrant Jews, not to mention from a radical (at that point) leftist.' - Craig Seligman, from his new book, 'Sontag & Kael: Opposites Attract Me,' thanks to a diligent reader.
- 4:17:54 PM"

Another nerd alert.

Michiko fucks Clinton up.

The title of Michiko's NYT book review says it all: The Pastiche of a Presidency, Imitating a Life, in 957 Pages.

Some excerpts from the review:

"The book, which weighs in at more than 950 pages, is sloppy, self-indulgent and often eye-crossingly dull -- the sound of one man prattling away, not for the reader, but for himself and some distant recording angel of history.

In many ways, the book is a mirror of Mr. Clinton's presidency: lack of discipline leading to squandered opportunities; high expectations, undermined by self-indulgence and scattered concentration.

...

In fact, "My Life" reads like a messy pastiche of everything that Mr. Clinton ever remembered and wanted to set down in print; he even describes the time he got up at 4 a.m. to watch the inaugural ceremonies for Nigeria's new president on TV. There are endless litanies of meals eaten, speeches delivered, voters greeted and turkeys pardoned. There are some fascinating sections about Mr. Clinton's efforts to negotiate a Middle East peace agreement (at one point, he suggests that Yasir Arafat seemed confused, not fully in command of the facts and possibly no longer at the top of his game), but there are also tedious descriptions of long-ago political debates in Arkansas over utility regulation and car license fees . There are some revealing complaints about missteps at the FBI under Louis Freeh's watch , but there are also dozens of pointless digressions about matters like zombies in Haiti and ruins in Pompeii."

?uestlove got love for Frank TJ Mackey

From ?uestlove's online tour diary:

i woke up to kirk and dawn (the cooler/merch hot chick) watching one of my favorite flicks (magnolia)---great to watch a film that challenges and tests your patience without some narrow minded fucks asking about exoudus 8:2 and what is the long dialogue for. we even watched the bonus disk with the documentary and the frank t mackey "give....me.... some....pussy.....bitch.." scenes (and yes fellas---that "form a tragedy" shit works like GANGBUSTERS! (c) chapelle.)

Sorry.

Tim thinks I'm an insensitive cunt for disrespecting Joshua by implying that he is a child-biting, knuckle-dragging gorilla. I am sorry, Josh. I thought it would be amusing, but if I hurt your feelings, I apologize. You have a free pass to imply that I am a monkey whenever you feel like it.

Rage.

I'm not sure how much you hear about this story in other parts of the country, but there is an attrocious rape case going on in Southern California that is just so sick and over-the-top it makes me rage.

It goes like this: three rich O.C. kids are a at party. There is a 16 year old girl there. She's really fucked up. They help her get more fucked up: beer, pot, gin. She passes out. They pull out a video camera and tape themselved shoving a Snapple bottle, pool cue and cigarette in her vagina. Then all three take turns fucking her in various ways. They take her (still passed out) and dump her back in her car (or maybe it was a friend's car...). She wakes up, sore and bruised, but remembers very little and certainly not the sex/rape.
But the douche bag guys misplace the video tape and it gets out. It finds its way to the police, who freak out becuase when they watch it, they think they're seeing three guys raping a corpse.
Long story short: they nab the guys and a huge trial ensues (one of the kids' dad is a multi-millionaire [and member of law enforcement] who is sparing no expense on experts, etc).
The defense? A) The girl's a slut who was dying to be a porn star and B) she is faking like she's passed out as a way to jump-start her career in porn.
And now
the defense has found a doctor who says it appears to him that she is faking it. (Of course, when the good doctor was making his case they didn't use the whole video tape, only select scenes.)
Of course the prosecutor ripped holes in the argument, but there are some that think that might be enough of a reasonable doubt and these guys might walk.
Want to read more about insanity in the legal system and sexual politics? The OC Weekly has an archive of their coverage of the case on its main page.

And in other news, Josh escapes his apt. & dies.

Yahoo! News - Josh Gibson--er, Jabari escapes zoo.

A cheetah could do it. So could a chimpanzee. But no one expected a stocky, knuckle-dragging 340-pound gorilla to leap across a 12-foot-wide moat and a wall that separated him from visitors at the Dallas Zoo.

But zoo investigators say that is exactly what happened the day 13-year-old Jabari escaped and went on a 40-minute rampage in March, snatching up a toddler with his teeth and injuring three other people before being shot to death by officers...

Manohla pounds Dodgeball.

I hate the LA Times' retarded policy of making their A&E section a subscriber-only feature. To protest I am posting Manohla Dargis' takedown of Dodgeball.

Enjoy:

Some years back, New Yorker critic Terrence Rafferty condemned the flashy, enjoyably trashy action flick "La Femme Nikita" with a single memorable sentence: "The end of French cinema as we know it." I filed the judgment away with a laugh, chalking up Rafferty's condemnation to high-art snobbery. Earlier this week, I briefly retrieved that indictment after enduring the witless "DodgeBall: A True Underdog Story." It's not the end of American cinema, but it may signal either the end of Ben Stiller's ambitions or the launch of a vendetta against his fans.

That's too bad. A talented comic and underappreciated director — his 1996 "The Cable Guy" remains a subversive dark pleasure — Stiller seems to have spent the last decade balancing his better instincts against his worst, good taste against commercial opportunism. Since the 1998 smash "There's Something About Mary," the gonzo comedy that rocketed Cameron Diaz to stardom, Stiller stretched himself with the true grit of "Permanent Midnight" and that sparkling diamond "The Royal Tenenbaums." He refined his uptight-dude shtick to amusing effect in "Meet the Parents" and considerably less so in "Along Came Polly." In testament to how this town rewards diminishing returns, he also turned a wafer-thin conceit into a feature with "Zoolander," a goof that owes most of its juice and laughs to costar Owen Wilson.

It would be easier to dismiss "DodgeBall" as a bump on the trajectory of Stiller's comic evolution if not for such recent duds as "Duplex" and "Envy" and the aggressively lazy "Starsky & Hutch." Worse and more revealingly, there is a post-end credit sequence in "DodgeBall" that finds its star and co-producer encased in a fat suit and fondling his pendant latex mammaries while he gases on about the movies. The diatribe involves American film, and though the rant is meant to be funny, it's laced with bitter rage. Even under layers of padding Stiller sounds less like he's trying to make a point (or send up his critics) and more like he's trying to defend the preceding 97 minutes of mean-spirited vulgarity and homosexual panic.

Written and directed by Rawson Marshall Thurber, making his first and what may be his last feature, "DodgeBall" reveals an almost pathological anxiety about homosexuality of the sort that's generally best worked out in a therapist's office. Many if not most of the alleged jokes involve genitals and orifices, and dodge balls smashing into male nether regions. Vince Vaughn, showing little sign of life and less interest, plays the owner of a small gymnasium that's in the shadow and in the way of a slick outfit called Globo Gym, run by Stiller's preening peacock. The two square off amid assorted geeks and freaks and pretend to tussle over the regulation girl (Stiller's wife, Christine Taylor). Among the other talented performers biding their time: Rip Torn, Gary Cole, Stephen Root and Hank Azaria.

With few exceptions — namely Wes Anderson, David O. Russell and Alexander Payne — adult- and adolescent-oriented American movie comedy has been on a consistent downward slide into the sewer for far too long. While the Farrelly brothers search for new comic ground, the genre has in their success become engulfed in infantilism and cruelty.

There's probably a doctoral student beavering away on the meaning of all this puerile nonsense, but meanwhile there's little to laugh about in the movies. Stiller may go on to better material, and one day he may yet turn his and Jerry Stahl's excellent adaptation of Budd Schulberg's "What Makes Sammy Run?" into the movie that admirers of this legendary chronicle about selling your soul in Hollywood deserve. It would be nice to think he still takes the book's lessons to heart.

I got served.

Well, kind of. Josh rages at me for daring to call Michelle Malkin the next Coulter.
Maybe it was hyperbole, but it came from the heart.
But I f-ing RESENT calling Malkin a bore. How dare you. There's finally a womyn of color climbing the ranks at Fox / the right-wing circuit and you are cutting her down. I hope you you're happy, bigot.

Things were so much easier when [he] was cruel.

Douglas Wolk nails what's wrong with Elvis in this Slate piece: The Undynamic Duo - Are Elvis Costello and Diana Krall ruining each other?

Kill her. Please...? Pretty please...?

I know I already asked for the end of Christine Taylor, but is it too much to ask for two death sentences in a week? Seriously folks, this shit ain't cute. She must be stopped.

See!

I told you.
You let those Masshole homoqueers get married and the institution of marriage goes to hell.

First Rush gets divorced.
Then J. Lo gets married for the third time.
Now this:MSNBC - Britney reportedly to say 'I do' again.

Because of those people, this sacred institution has been forever debased. The shockwaves are reverberating and this is only the beginning.

(I know, I know. This makes no sense. And sarcasm/irony is passe. But I needed a way of spreading this Brit news without being boring.)

What is wrong with Drudge?

Wonkette's DrudgePacker Watch has the scoop on the grossest Drudge headline ever.

At least he admits it.

Ebert:
"The pitfall for Moore is not subjectivity, but accuracy. We expect him to hold an opinion and argue it, but we also require his facts to be correct. I was an admirer of his previous doc, the Oscar-winning 'Bowling for Columbine,' until I discovered that some of his 'facts' were wrong, false or fudged.

In some cases, he was guilty of making a good story better, but in other cases (such as his ambush of Charlton Heston) he was unfair, and in still others (such as the wording on the plaque under the bomber at the Air Force Academy) he was just plain wrong, as anyone can see by going to look at the plaque.

Because I agree with Moore's politics, his inaccuracies pained me, and I wrote about them in my Answer Man column. Moore wrote me that he didn't expect such attacks 'from you, of all people.' But I cannot ignore flaws simply because I agree with the filmmaker. In hurting his cause, he wounds mine."

You're Malkin me hot.

Dear reader, are you familiar with Michelle Malkin?
She is my latest political-pundit crush. Ms. Malkin is totally the new Ann Coulter. She's foxy, right-wing, shrill, plus she's a minority. So the racist charges that are chucked at La Coulter will just roll of Malkin's back.
Oh it's too too perfect.
I became aware of Malkin when she was on the second greatest show on TV, The O'Reilly Factor (number one is, of course, Deadwood). It was a revelation. Finally, a Filipina talking head who was speaking out against the liberal elite and their love of terrorists. It was so refreshing.
Upon further research, I found that we share much in common... a love of John Derbyshire's writing. The belief that Sean Hannity has his finger on the pulse of American discourse. Tireless work in the field of abolishing affirmative action. And that we we should never forget 07/25/69. (What date is that? I'm sure Josh would be able to tell you. July, 25th 1969 is the day that Ted Kennedy pleaded guilty to leaving the scene of a crime in Chappaquiddick.)
I really have nothing else to say (or no other point to this post) other than:
Support the Malkin. Because she's a Filipina.
Here are some useful links to her work. Enjoy.

Malkin on left-wing thuggery.
Malkin on Hannity.
Malkin's memo to Ashley Judd.
Malkin on 'Hollyweird'/Courtney Love.
Malkin on Washingtonienne/Wonkette.

I thought that Christians didn't like false idols.

To paraphrase Norm MacDonald: "Hey God, hope you like 'Your Message' delivered in a really shitty song written by Amy Grant."

From Fox News - Christian Version of American Idol to Debut

"It is our goal to wrap God's message — His love — in acceptance, and in a way that blends seamlessly into `pop' culture while still upholding the values we, as Christians, value most," Wright Generation's mission statement reads.

In a word: yes.

Is Ben Stiller wearing out his welcome?

In six words: he did three fucking years ago.
Oh and while we're at it, can we please kill Christine Taylor? That might help. My theory: that harpie has sucked the mojo right out of him. (Well, what little mojo the dude had to begin with.) Oh and get back to working with Wes Anderson... stat. That might help too. Maybe.

To recap: get rid of wifey (please, please, please). Then work with Wes again. Barring that... (in the words of Maya Rudolph) GET OUT.

List insanity.

And I thought I was an insane list-nerd.
My boy, Sasha Frere-Jones, started his Best Albums/Singles of 2004 on December 30, 2003. He is constantly updating and switching and adding and moving shit around. Bookmark that shit and watch it mutate: S/FJ's BEST OF 2004.

The best part: I know so few of the entries. But I do love that a ZZ Top comp (#42 on the albums list) is currently beating Wilco's A Ghost Is Born (#53). Oh the insanity/brilliance that is Mr. Frere-Jones.

The Texas Abortion Tango.

The LA Weekly chronicles Larry Flynt's suspect (but oh so juicy) quest to reveal an abortion in W.'s past.

Diet Barq's, Los Angeles Confidential... and Depends.

Timmy's got the scoop on Larry King's garbage, here's the pic.

Hell house.

VH1 is siiiiiiick:
"Flavor Flav is going from the rap life to 'The Surreal Life.' The clock-toting Public Enemy member will join the cast of the third season of the reality show, which will also feature Jordan Knight of New Kids on the Block, Dave Coulier of 'Full House,' Ryan Starr of 'American Idol,' Charo, seen often on '70s show 'The Love Boat,' and action star Brigitte Nielsen. The cast moved into its Hollywood mansion on Tuesday. The third season premiers on VH1 September 5."

The joys of text.

Who needs shitty graphics when you can get your nerd on and play Hamlet - The Text Adventure.

(I think the concept is amusing, but I tired of this shit pretty quickly.)

A Spirograph?

I take this stupid quiz and this is what it comes up with....?


You're a Spirograph!! You're pretty tripped out,
even though you've been known to be a bit
boring at times. You manage to serve your
purpose in life while expending hardly any
effort (and are probably stoned to the gills
all the while).


What childhood toy from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Joyced.

Like Josh, today Google is getting its Joyce on.

I'm rooting for Simple Minds...

Stereogum's got the list of potential nominees for the 2005 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Take a gander at this list o' beauts:

Eligible for the first time:

U2
Bryan Adams
Pat Benatar
Def Leppard
Iron Maiden
Simple Minds
the Pretenders



Other noteworthy eligibles:

Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five
Joan Jett
Twisted Sister
Abba
Jeff Beck
Black Sabbath
Chicago
Dick Dale
Van Halen
Lynyrd Skynyrd
John Mellencamp
Steve Miller Band

Graduation day.

Mary Kate & Ashley's HS graduation photos. Fer real.

Music nerds.

A music nerd creates a computer program that analyzes thousands of Pitchfork reviews, in an attempt to write the perfect, Pitchfork-approved song. No, I am not joking. Read all about it here.

5ive

Huzzah.
Everyone took part in the project. And it was excellent.

Props to PL for showing some love to large ladies, Tim for hating on the Lakers, and Josh for sending a shout out to Koolhaas.

May this tradition prosper.

(PS: I am retardedly drunk [esp. considering that it's a tuesday] and I just watched the Office for the first time. That shit is funny. Notice that I am really drunk, but am still able to encode italics in html. In the words of Tobey, "I am a nerd.")

God has smiled upon me.

From the MarkRomanek.com FAQ:
"are there any plans to release a dvd compilation of your music videos?
yes. a comprehensive dvd is currently in production and will appear in 2004. it will be released by palm pictures as part of their new 'director's label' series (the same label that just released dvd compilations of the work of spike jonze, michel gondry, and chris cunningham). there will be interviews with most -- if not all -- of the artists i've worked with, a full-color fifty page booklet, and an extensive assortment of bonus materials."

Stern Swingers.

The New Republic Online analyzes Howard Stern's impact on the election.

Interesting stuff.

It figures...

...Rivers settle down with Josh and right away he starts singing showtunes from Annie.

Neil LaBute is theatre dork.

As I have not seen Sigourney Weaver cry in person, I have not lived. (So sayeth LaBute.)

And you thought the swan dress was crazy.

I agree, instruments are so over.

Bjork Voices "Medulla"

New album to consist solely of vocals

"Instruments are so over," says Bjork of her new, purely vocal album, Medulla, due out late August/early September.

"I think this was probably the most intuitive album I've done," she continues. "I had to use ingredients that I trusted, like my voice, my muscles, my bones. I couldn't really use all the other stuff."

Rahzel of the Roots -- known as "the Human Beatbox" -- supplies the percussive bass line for a majority of the songs, and the album also features collaborations with Inuit throat-singer Tanya Tagaq and former Faith No More frontman Mike Patton. The sound is primitive, full of brooding menace on "Where Is the Line" and soaring, breathy romance on "The Pleasure Is All Mine."

Following Medulla's release, Bjork will continue working in the studio rather than go on tour.

"Every album I've done, the minute that it's done, I feel really lubricated and, like, 'Wow, now I can write an album in five minutes,'" she says. "And I just want to find out if that's just a fantasy or if it's true."

Radiohead droning? Predictable. Flaming Lips? Overt. Music from "The Elder"? Advanced.

Chuck Klosterman introduces the world to Advancement theory. Your perception of Val Kilmer, Sting and C-Murder will be forever altered.

(it's pretty obnoxious, but funny. Like most of Klosterman's work. This is a reprint from this month's Esquire. [I think.])

2 + 2 = 5

1) Jack Nicholson and Philip Stone's scene in The Shining.

What's that over-used Nietzche quote? You stare into the abyss and the abyss stares into you? Something like that. On Saturday, I found myself watching Kubrick's The Shining after 3 Tequila shots and 4 beers. To say it scared the living bejesus out of me is an understatement. I have always been fond of the movie, but found it a bit of a haphazard mess.
Not this time. On Saturday, I saw a perfectly controlled laundry list of every human fear imaginable. Scared of the dark? Check. Scared of wide-open spaces? Check. Scared of your father? Check. Scare of being a father? Check. Scared of pale, 7-year-old, British twins? Check. Etc.
And when Jack started having that conversation with Grady in the bathroom... I convinced myself that Kubrick had somehow found a portal into the darkest depths of Hell and was forcing me to stare it down.



Need an illustration? How about this exchange:

Delbert Grady: Your son has a very great talent. I don't think you are aware how great it is. That he is attempting to use that very talent against your will.
Jack Torrance: He is a very willful boy.
DG: Indeed he is, Mr. Torrance. A very willful boy. A rather naughty boy, if I may be so bold, sir.
JT: It's his mother. She, uh, interferes.
DG: Perhaps they need a good talking to, if you don't mind my saying so. Perhaps a bit more. My girls, sir, they didn't care for the Overlook at first. One of them actually stole a pack of matches, and tried to burn it down. But I "corrected" them sir. And when my wife tried to prevent me from doing my duty, I "corrected" her.

God jesus in heaven help us.


2) David Byrne's "Glass, Concrete & Stone" from Grown Backwards.

Written for Dirty Pretty Things, Byrne distills an immigrant's experience into a lovely four minute pop song. As usual, he throws all sorts of odd imagery and metaphors into the mix and delivers something that's funny and sad without being fussy and obvious.


3) Sonic Youth's "Little Trouble Girl" music video (dir: Mark Romanek).


A creepy, androgynous Nosferatu Jr. runs around a futuristic office building while Kim Deal's sandpaper/honey harmonies rub up against Kim Gordon's monotone. The imaginary Pitchfork review? It goes like this: Yummy avant-pop. An 8.7.


4) David Chase (as imagined by Pierluigi).

I'm on Tim's turf here, but I gotta give a shout out to PL for his portrait of Mr. Chase slowly losing his shit over Deadwood. I imagine the Chase of PL's fantasy is all alone in a dark room, sipping cognac in a high-back chair, a Bach concerto playing softly on the hi-fi. He pretends not to care that he got served, that Milch hasn't just trumped Tony as an allegory for present day humanity... but he does care. There's just nothing he can do about it. And he's gonna weep/drink himself to dawn.


5) www.stereogum.com

What other website will you find Replacement downloads, the latest Britney Spears gossip and pics of Lindsey Lohan's bare boobies? Oh that's right, the one, the only, www.stereogum.com. Oh and it's named after a lyric by AIR. It couldn't get much better.

Homework.

My Dearest Fellow Bloggers,

Bad news. You have homework.
I love lists and I love learning what my friends are down with, etc. Therefore, I now decree that every Tuesday, everyone in our little stretch of the blogisphere shall be responsible for coming up with a list of 5 items (movies, songs, TV programmes, CDs, plays, interweb sites, actors, buildings, blogs, colors, politicians, essays, porn stars, barnyard animals, etc.) that he is currently obsessed with.
Here are the rules:
1) You must post sometime on Tuesday. Every Tuesday. From here on out. Forever and ever, amen.
2) You must think up a name for this column and post said name in the title section every time you post your list.

Sound like fun? I don't care if you just answered in the negative. I want to see lists people.

Now get to it, yo. Time's a-wastin'.

Yours in Christ's profound love,

Benjamin.

PS: Remember Greil Marcus' old column at Salon? This is kind of like that.

Compassionate Conservatism, Pt. II

I negleted to harp on this one last week. In case you missed it, Rush Limbaugh is divorcing wife number three. (Sorry that this sounds like something that would be up at moveon.org or on Michael Moore's website, but I had to do this. I had to. God made me.)

With that in mind, allow me to share some quotes from Mr. Limbaugh:

I really do not even think marriage is a right. Marriage is a responsibility. It's not a gift that somebody says, 'Hey, now it's time for you to get married. It's our bestowal to you.' It's a commitment that you make and it is a responsibility that you accept."
--Rush on the gay marriage debate.

"We have a behavioral problem. We have a love problem. We have a spiritual problem."
--Rush on the general disrespect shown to marriage.

He thinks maybe he didn't make the right decision...

Right. Worrying about your rep/perception is more important than human rights violations.
Documentarian kept quiet after filming U.S. soldiers abusing Iraqis: "Filmmaker Michael Moore said Friday he wasn't sure he did the right thing by saving footage of U.S. American soldiers' cruelty toward Iraqis for his controversial documentary, 'Fahrenheit 9/11,'' instead of releasing the evidence earlier when it might have helped halt such abuse.
'I had it months before the story broke on '60 Minutes,' and I really struggled with what to do with it,'' Moore said in a telephone interview with The Chronicle. 'I wanted to come out with it sooner, but I thought I'd be accused of just putting this out for publicity for my movie. That prevented me from making maybe the right decision.'' "

OK, props to the poster...

Compassionate Conservatism.

White House rejects calls for change of stem cell policy: "The White House is rejecting calls by former President Reagan's family to change its policy on stem cell research.

Press Secretary Scott McClellan says flatly, 'The policy remains the same.' He adds, 'We are looking at other ways to combat disease.'

Reagan's widow Nancy and his daughter Patti Davis have been outspoken advocates of expanding medical research using embryonic stem cells. Biologists think these could help create treatments for diseases ranging from diabetes to Alzheimer's, which afflicted Reagan for a decade.

In 2001, Bush signed an executive order limiting federally funded research to 78 lines of embryonic stem cells then in existence. However, researchers say the number of lines actually available is now 19 -- and contamination may make those unusable.

McClellan says Bush believes his policy still provides enough lines to continue research.
"

One more time...

Let me state for the record: my post on the Hoppe is not b.s. Some readers were confused and thought it was a joke. It is not.

I have confirmed (with the man himself) that Thomas Hoppe & Yessica will be living in LA in Jully '05.

I'm over it.

I was going to tear into PL's respone but I'm bored with this subject. Let's move on. I would like to say: PL go see one (1) or two (2) more Sturges films. Especially Sullivan's Travels. Then you will know where O Brother... got its name and where a lot of Barton Fink came from.

Defining Coen-ingenuity and other shit.

This is my response to PL's response.

First: allow me to define "Coen-style ingenuity."
The Coens used to be able to take a cinematic form and, despite Josh's assertions, do something interesting and special with it. For example, they took film noir (which literally means black film) and perversely bathe it in white and make a knocked-up woman with a funny accent their Philip Marlow. Another example: they took the screwball comedy--which traditionally exalts the wealthy and smart--and made a couple of poor-ass yokels without a clue their protagonists. These are, to my mind, breezy, inspired ideas that are sorely missing from their latest work.

As for the City of Fire argument.
There's no doubt that QT should have been more open about the origins of Resevoir Dogs, esp. when he has been so forthright about the inspiration(s) for Kill Bill. That said, how is it any different from the Coens aping Chandler by turning The Big Sleep into the stoner farce that is The Big Lebowski and submitting it for a best original screenplay nomination?

Re: PL's dismissal of QT as a filmmaker (he's merely as "scenarist"), this is a can of worms that I would love to delve into at another time... the whole cult of the writer/director (and singer/songwriter). But let me just say that there are so many worse examples of "scenarists" posing as filmmakers. Kevin Smith being the most egregious, Neil LaBute being the most unfortunate (given his skill as a writer).

PL asked where I put O Brother... in the Coens' canon. I would put it as the beginning of the end. (For the record, Josh, it came right before the pile of doodoo-feces that is The Man Who Wasn't There.) It's silly and fun and ultimately entertaining, but it's an ominous sign of what's to come. (In places it's oppressively glib and smug and hermetically sealed.)

While I personally worship Preston Sturges, I guess I have to accept that some might not dig him. Hey, it all comes down to personal taste. But I do find it funny that PL dismisses the very writer/director that the Coens emulate the most.

As for the Coens "selling out" or "going Hollywood" concept... Look, I'm just judging what's put in front of me. For instance, I loved the idea of Cronie directing Basic Instinct 2. Ultimately, he realized (or the studio did, whatever, etc.) that he was ill-fitted for the project and he left it at that. I wish the Coens had come to the same conclusion in the preproduction phase of Intolerable Cruelty.

Finally, PL states that the Coens' work has clearly declined but based what's out there, it's still a blessing. Um, I guess. But to determine something's quality by comparing it to shit is not a way to define its worth. And for the record, Troy is better than Intolerable Cruelty. (And while we're at it, let me tell you, The 400 Blows is so much better than Barbershop 2: Back In Business.)

News of the week.

Thomas Hoppe and Jessica are back in LA as of July 2005.
You heard it here first.
And you best believe it, biatch.

The Eggers filmmaker(s).

I knew throwing that Dale Peck excerpt would elicit a response from Josh. (As usual, it's smart and funny and thorough.) And for the record, I'd like to say that (like Josh) I agree with much of Peck's diagnosis of the lit boys, but certainly not his take on the past century of lit. (Rest easy, PL, I don't despise DeLillo.)

That said, the one thing I wanted to challenge in Josh's response is this notion:
"[A]ltough isn't Tarantino really the cinematic equivalent of Dave Eggers, throwing together a pastiche of other styles without finding his own voice?"
I suppose you could make the case that QT pulled an Eggers with Kill Bill Vol. 1. I don't think so as I still think QT's heartbeat/fingerprint is under there somewhere.
I would argue that the Coens have turned into Eggers. The Coens have always been interested in breaking down specific cinematic conventions/genres and reworking it into something new and different and original. Whether it's the film-noir-turned-film-blanc Fargo or the gritty-turned-giddy Chandler adaptation that is Lebowski, they take their cinephillia and put it to use.
That is they used to.
I haven't seen The Ladykillers so I can't comment on that one, but The Man Who Wasn't There and Intolerable Cruelty were bloodless, vapid theses on (respectively) noir and screwball comedies that had zero spark, crackle or Coen-style ingenuity. Instead they seemed like a whole lot of wink, wink, nudge, nudge, we're doing Double Indemnity! We're Preston Sturges! Isn't it fun? If we could add funny footnotes and fonts to our film we would! Since we can't, why don't we add UFOs! That would be so ironic and fun. blah blah blah.
I think the test goes like this: I know that with Mulholland Dr., Lynch is bowing down to the altar of Sunset Blvd., Chandler, and the whole mythology of Los Angeles. But the film is still totally its own entity. Ditto Pulp Fiction. Or The Royal Tenenbaums.
I look at Intolerable Cruelty and think: good Christ in heaven why am I not watching The Lady Eve?

So that's my take. I'm counting down the seconds until I get hate mail from PL telling me how awesome the recent Coens' crap is and how awful QT is. In 5, 4, 3, 2....

A political panic room?

Michael Moore gets his paranoia on:

"To counteract efforts challenging 'Fahrenheit 9/11,' he has hired Chris Lehane and Mark Fabiani, two former political advisers to Bill Clinton and Al Gore, to establish a 'war room' that will immediately support any claims made in the movie that come under attack.

The group, he said, will be staffed by six to seven people and will operate 24 hours a day, monitoring newscasts and scanning newspapers, magazines and other publications for statements made discrediting the movie.

'You come at me with anything, we come back with the truth,' Moore said. "

Further reading.

In my previous post, I neglected to include this link to Ruth Franklin's Slate piece on the McSweeneyization of short fiction. I think she nails a lot of what's gone wrong with the Eggers crew.

That said, I would also like to point out that I don't hate everything associated with Eggers et al. McSweeney's Issue No. 13 is a gorgeous compendium of graphic novellas, comic strips, etc all edited by the brilliant Chris Ware and featuring great stuff from Chip Kidd, R. Crumb, Ira Glass, etc etc etc. It's a lovely volume to own. The cover looks like this:


There. I said something positive. It's not been all hate.

Diss Believer.

Allow me to jump on the Eggers-bashing bandwagon. After successfully avoiding Eggers' literary magazine, The Believer, for 13 issues, I broke down and bought number 14.

For those unaware, The Believer was created by Eggers/the McSweeneys crew as a response to the Dale Peck brand of spiteful (but hilarious) literary crit.

A quick recap-- in the pages of The New Republic Peck created a firestorm when he tore into novelist Rick Moody beginning a review with this line: "Rick Moody is the worst writer of his generation." The review ended with Peck placing Moody in "the highest of canonical postmodernism ... a bankrupt tradition ... that began with the diarrheic flow of words that is Ulysses; continued on through the incomprehensible ramblings of late Faulkner and the sterile inventions of Nabokov; and then burst into full, foul life in the ridiculous dithering of Barth and Hawkes and Gaddis, and the reductive cardboard constructions of Barthelme, and the word-by-word wasting of a talent as formidable as Pynchon's; and finally broke apart like a cracked sidewalk beneath the weight of the stupid -- just plain stupid -- tomes of DeLillo."
(For more on the Peck/Moody spat, click here.)

So you get the picture. Eggers is horrified and vows to right the wrong. He creates The Believer to elevate the discourse and create a supportive, positive resource for those interested in lit... or something.*

Anyway, I always found the issues I flipped through to be smug, dry and totally self-serving. But then they lured me in with their inaugural music issues. It promised illuminating profiles on Elliott Smith, Q-Tip and David Byrne. Pieces on L.A. music and film music. Plus it came with a CD of PL-approved bands (TV on the Radio, The Walkmen, etc.). So I bought the thing.

Dumb move.

So this Elliott Smith piece... Yeah, it's written by this woman in her mid-30s who whines about how her friends think she's uncool 'cause she won't take down her Hole and Mudhoney posters from her apartment walls. She talks a lot about how Elliott's music was such a help when she was going in and out of hospitals 'cause she's super sick. Which means it was probably written by that chubby girl who went to Elliott's in-store at Newbury Comics in 1998 and not only made him sign her Needle In the Hay 7", but her Hello Kitty backpack as well.

The Q-Tip piece is worthless and the David Byrne interview was (are you ready for this) conducted by Dave Eggers. I won't really get into it, but you can get some insight into the merit of the piece by Eggers' first "question." It goes like this:
"You're on tour right now... Where were you tonight? Here is my guess: Mumbai, nee Bombay."
What can you say about that? Oh yeah: Good work, douche bag. Give up your career in rock crit and go run the pirate store.

OK, that's all. I'm over it.


* Allow me to reprint the exact mission statement of The Believer:
The Believer is an amiable yet rigorous forum for writing about books. It seeks to extend the ever-shortening shelf life of new books (and revives interest in books long overlooked), and stresses the interconnectivity of books to pop culture, politics, art, and music. To that end, the focus of the magazine includes essays on these topics, as well as lengthy interviews with philosophers, upholsterers, geneticists, and Martin Short.

Rockism.

I was driving back from lunch today, listening to talk radio and Liz Phair's "Extraordinary" was used as a bumper (is that the right terminology?) when they went to commercial.

My first reaction: poor Liz Phair. Her debut album is a masterpiece that she will forever live in the shadow of. It would be impossible for her to create something as honest and spontaneous as Exile In Guyville again, which are the album's two biggest virtues. And, really, when you're an indie-singer-songwriter eleven years removed from your masterpiece, what the hell do you do? I think most of the time, the answer is... fade away and release shit on the interweb for your loyal fans.
But not Ms. Phair. First she hires Michael Penn to sonically switch things up. Not totally content with the L.A. sheen that Penn brought to her songs, she hires the Matrix to really sweeten the sound. Which, of course, created an insane amount of press (which Liz totally courted) and a huge critical backlash.

That's the background, which I'm sure most of you already know. The point is: I'm sitting in my car listening to the Phair-bumper and I realize that it's not totally bad. In fact, I find it to be above-par for most of the crap that passes for pop-rock right now (it sure as hell beats Avril whining about how she's saving her coochie for the right guy).

So my second reaction to the song is: perverse pleasure for Liz. This fucking album has been out for a year now and I have never really made peace with it. I still don't think it's great or in the same league as Exile, but I do love the idea of this woman fucking with the paradigm and breaking rules and being totally punk-rock in the most unpunk-rock way imaginable. I've basically been reading that and hearing that from defenders for the past year, but it took me this long to really hear that.

Which then reminded me of this killer essay that my man Sasha Frere-Jones wrote in Slate on a similar theme(s). It was written last August or so and touches on the Liz debate, as well as the merits of Timberlake and Beyonce and pop vs. rock. I remember being really impressed with it and when I reread it today, I wasn't disappointed. So check it out.

Minnesota Nice.

David Thomson assesses the Coen Brothers. It's a pretty solid although I'm not sure I fully believe his theory that they need to split up to become relevant again. That said, something does needs to happen to snap them out of their complacency.

Roger Ebert is trippin'.

If I'm not mistaken, In the Mood For Love also got three stars.

Official apology to the Native American readers of The Whine Colored Sea.

Apparently I offend Josh every time I put shit up on my blog. I'm paraphrasing the great Tom Hoppe here, but I think I need to get my pox blanket out and send it to Josh.

I mean, Christ, Tim advocates the creation of a new Negro Basketball League and no one blinks an eye.

I link a fucking Village People joke and I get the wrath of Fagistan.

I just can't win.

Josh has been keeping things from us.

A must-see post from Wonkette.

As part of their (hilariously snarky) Gipperporn series, Wonkette discovers half of the Village People paid their respects to the Gip.

Learn to laugh people.

Jimmy Kimmel is forced to apologize for telling the truth.

New LVT film.

Here's Jon Stewart's take on the Michael Moore firestorm. I must admit that I am not the biggest Jon Stewart fan (I am so tired of hearing about his importance and how he's reaching the young kids and getting them involved blah blah blah) and think The Daily Show is easily the most overrated show on the air (with Deadwood close behind). That said, this bit made me laugh:

"The film won the respected Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival this year, only because the French festival's other leading contender, Lars Von Trier's 'Hey America, Suck It!', was screened out of competition."

Fagistan vs. Coulter.

Josh fucks the Gipper-worshipping Coulter up. Now she's totally not going to invite El Presidente de Fagistan to her meth-fueled 3way with Maher this weekend.

Oh and this just in from Fox News: Reagan is still dead and Nancy is very brave.

This is retarded.

An MTV News Scoop: "Lindsay Lohan is under fire from a group that advocates the rights of people with mental disabilities, since she's been using the word 'retarded' to respond to press inquiries about her alleged breast implants and her supposed rift with Hilary Duff. The Arc plans to send the actress a letter explaining why it's upset with her use of the word, something the group did once before with Britney Spears when she used the word, according to a spokesperson."

Good news Josh.

.

Josh, I'm happy to say that the test came back negative, so... I guess we can bury the hatchet. It's a good feeling too. I spoke to Dave just recently and he said that after a hot night of sodomy with you, he was concerned about testing positive. But... nope. We're all clean and Brock is back spreading the truth about the relentlessly right-wing media.

Thanks for showing concern.

Cheap shots?

After calling me a boorish, anti-Christian, Jew-hating spic, Josh has some nerve calling me out on cheap shots.

Josh, look deep inside yourself and try to find the love.
Please.
We're all rooting for you to beat the hate.

Good work Mr. Crowe.

The Hollywood Reporter says Cameron Crowe has added Paul Schneider (he of Josh's fave film of last year, All the Real Girls) and Judy Greer to his new project, Elizabethtown. For those unaware, Judy Greer is Alice the waitress in Adaptaion. Y'know, the hot readhead that Nicolas Cage pines for. No joke: every f-ing time I watch that movie, she shows up and I say: "Why the fuck is this chick not working more."

Well, Mr. Crowe has fixed that. Thanks, Cam.

More proof that Pitchfork writers need more hugs.

Pitchforker Joshua Sharp shits all over that Radiohead bluegrass medley that's floating around the interweb. Is it kitschy and corny and dangerously on par with a Weird Al tune? Sure. But it's also kinda fun to hear "(Nice Dreams)" and "2+2=5" recast as insanely fast square-dancin' numbers. Those motherfletchers need to lighten up, stop listening to white label remixes of M83 and chill.
And call me crazy... I'd like to hear the UMass Marching Band perform "Paranoid Android."

I'm ready to pack my bags...

Sully's got the scoop on what sounds like some hot property. (Or at least some hot property in the making.) [Note to self: FUCK! My rigid, cynical, anti-Christian mindset is shining through. Dammit. Now Josh will hate on me some more. Oh well.]

"SECESSION: Speaking of theocrats, some of the nuttier parts of the religious right are now advocating actual secession from the Godless United States. Catholic cleric James McCloskey once rhapsodized about this idea as well. But he was dreaming of bigger things than 'Christian Exodus.' They've decided to encourage Christians to go to ... South Carolina. What would the new paradise look like? The message board has some pointers:

'Well on one hand I kinda favor a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. But should homosexuals speak up, they should be deported, sanctioned, or held in jail,' said one person, discussing whether their new 'country' should endorse or permit lifestyles they believe go against biblical teachings.
Other visitors had ideas on what laws might be applicable in their new South Carolina home. 'No alcohol sold on Sundays at all. All entries into the town would be policed with random checks for alcohol abuse, breathalyzers mandatory. No places of business open on Sundays. All schools, public, private or otherwise would teach creation, have the Ten commandments placed and say prayer before classes start. No landlords allowed to rent to couples just living together ... Abortion would not be legal in any circumstance.'"

Tim's gotten all MoveOn.org on us.

Tim looks at the fighting in our little blogsphere and doesn't want it in his name. Or something.

Slip inside this house.

Holy fuck. I'm listening to Primal Scream's Screamadelica at the moment. Haven't listened to it in years. Have you heard this shit? Blows my mind. Look out for this shit... you can find it used and cheap in lots of record stores. Pick it up. You'll be happy you did.

Gayest Drudge Headlines.

Wonkette pointed out this amusing Gawker.com-compiled list:

Drudge Report: Gayest Tender Moments

We keep a little list of the fruitiest Drudge Report headlines. Why? We're psycho like that. Spurred by today's mention of Morrissey on Drudge ("Morrissey Outrage: 'Bush should have died, not Reagan'..."), let's stroll back through some of our favorite Drudge moments:

· MOVE OVER HOBBITS, CLEOPATRA GLAMOUR KICKS OFF PARIS COUTURE WEEK...
· BRITNEY GRANTS WARDROBE 'VETO' POWER TO CHINA FOR PLANNED TOUR...
· MY NAME IS JUDY DEAN!
· Howard Dean Leaves NEW YORK TIMES op-ed queen Maureen Dowd waiting by phone...
· alopecoid! DRAMA AT SPELLING BEE: Boy Collapses, Nails Word...

And of course, now and forever in first place:
· EMOTIONAL GEN. WES CLARK '60 MINS II' DAN RATHER INTERVIEW TONIGHT: MISTS UP, TEAR FORMS, DOES NOT FALL DOWN CHEEK; A SIDE OF HIM WE HAVE NEVER SEEN, SOURCES TELL DRUDGE...