Voting is crucial.

At this moment, people are voting on an issue that might just be more important than that whole Bush vs. Kerry thing.
And it is crucial that you use your God give voice to send a loud and clear message, once and for all, that Aliens are way fucking better than Predators.

Currently, Aliens are winning (2,013,049 to the Preadtors' 1,465,691). But I hear from sources that Dick Morris thinks this is just a temporary lead and after Labor Day we're going to see a huge bounce for the Predators. We can't let this happen. Remember: vote for the ALIENS.

Vote here.

Thank you.

No one doubts her commitment to Sparkle Motion.

Ultragrrrl has a lengthy dissertation on the Donnie Darko soundtrack. Be still my heart.

(Link via Stereogum.)

0 -2.

As Tim is the resident Manchurian Candidate (1962) guru, I am sure that he will give his lengthy expert opinion on Jonathan Demme's Manchurian Candidate (2004). My two cents: boring as all hell. I will always love Demme for his camera work (those subtle little dolly moves, zooms, etc.) and his attention to sound, but this was dull, lifeless, and utterly pointless.

The only saving grace: Robyn Hitchcock. He has a minor (but important) role in the film and it's really odd to see this eccentric, shaggy British folk-rocker, all cleaned up and acting opposite Denzel.

I had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Hitchcock at Largo. He was really wasted and kept ordering Grasshoppers, which were these vile green drinks that were (I think) made primarily with milk and mint liquer. Or something. So Robyn Hitchcock and Jon Brion are on stage, getting tanked off of Grasshoppers and singing Beatles covers and making up fucked up psychedelic songs about pigs and flaming eyes and whatever else. And now I'm supposed to take him seriously as some crazy mind-control expert. Or something.

My advice: skip this bullshit, head over to Tower Records, pick up the new special edition DVD of the original Manchurian Candidate (it's on sale for, like, $9.99!) and watch the future Ms. J.B. Fletcher rock the fuck out.

Side note:
How to make a Grasshopper (courtesy of the Webtender).

GRASSHOPPER
Ingredients:

* 3/4 oz Green Creme de Menthe
* 3/4 oz white Creme de cacao
* 3/4 oz Light cream

Mixing instructions:

Shake all ingredients with ice, strain into a cocktail glass, and serve.

My work here is done.

Well, I was going to revisit my Village post and really get into it, but Tim gets his rage on and touches on nearly everything that I wanted to.

Bravo, Timbo. That was some virtuoso shit and it saved me mad time.

H-O-T.

I didn't know that this side of Laura Bush exsisted. On the exterior those librarians look so docile... but you get a drink or two in them and watch out.

(Linke via Fleshbot.)

It's worse than I thought.

Fear not, Tom, I am here to the rescue.

I never thought that Shamalamadingdong would create a movie that would make me pine for the action and wit of Signs. I was wrong. The Village did just that. I'm too worn out to really get into it at this time, but this is my hope... Someone out there will see this message and will believe it and will save themselves two hours of their life and $7 - 14.

I tried to trick myself into wanting to see this sham. Wrong move. Wrong move. Don't you fall for it.

I so called this one.

Culture of fear.

For someone who doesn't believe in locking his front door, Michael Moore seems awfully jumpy Defamer's got the scoop (oh and just FYI: Musso & Frank's is nasty. I know I know... it's old school Hollywood... it's still gross):

"Last night we went to Musso & Frank for our usual Thursday night dinner. At the table across from our booth were two bodyguards, in sunglasses, wire in the ear, the whole bit. We didn't see anybody that important, so we asked our waiter whose body they were guarding. MICHAEL MOORE!
The fat load was at a booth with Roger Ebert and some Hollywood types. Moore is so fat (how fat is he?) he had to sit outside the booth in a chair. I guess Mr. Man Of the People is a little scared of those people. Later, Ebert came over to see if Moore's bodyguards were okay, and we talked to him a little while. He started talking to us because we were in our regular booth next to the bar, which was also Orson Welles' booth, apparently. He was very cool. I should add that we've been eating there every Thursday for years, seen hundreds of celebs, and never seen any w/bodyguards until now."

What does this mean?

Off to see The Village with a mini-City Video reunion (me, PL, Brennon and Sara... ok, so Sara's not really coming, but we'll pretend Tim is a Native American girl). I don't have high hopes. I mean... the trailer is nifty. But then again, Night's trailers are always nifty. And I always end up hating the movie itself.

Anyway, here's the real point of this post:
I was going through the Shamlama's old Metacritic scores and stumbled upon the following blurb from (the dearly departed) Elvis Mitchell.

"[Shyamalan] is like Shaq without the tattoos."

What the fuck?

OK, to be fair, here's the sentence before that:
"Mr. Shyamalan may be the only mainstream director hankering for success with a need to understate."

Um, I guess in context it kind of makes sense. Kind of. But Elvis is tripping.

Huzzah for Hopsie.

Know what's rad?
Tommy is finally blogging on a regular basis. And not only that, he's made his blog super pretty and cleared up the "Tom is Knoxville" rumor. Just so we're totally clear: Tom Hoppe is not Johnny Knoxville. He just has "special relations" with Mr. Knoxville.

From: D.Edelstein. To: T. Aaron

An excerpt from Brainwash, Rinse, Repeat - The improbable integrity of the new Manchurian Candidate:
When I heard that Jonathan Demme planned to remake John Frankenheimer's sensational 1962 thriller The Manchurian Candidate, I passed in about a minute through four stages of Kübler-Rossian grief: denial ("He can't be that stupid"), anger ("Is nothing sacred?"), bargaining ("I just won't see the damn thing"), and depression ("Is he that desperate?"). The final stage, acceptance, came only after seeing Demme's movie and coming to terms with his achievement.

T. Hoppe...

...photo-shop masta.

Don't piss off Claymates.

Delaware music crit Ryan Cormier panned a Clay Aiken concert.
The Claymates strike back. Scary, funny, kinda sad. I get the feeling that the "ClayNation" has a lot of lonely women with cats among its ranks. Just a feeling.

(Link via Passenger86.)

Go to the site below...

...and download The Beach Boys performing "God Only Knows" live in 1978. What makes this one special is Carl Wilson is drunk as fuck. Entertaining like fish stick day with Josh's mom. Whatever that means.

Josh's competish.

Josh, this is the "long time paramour of Master Colin Meloy." Time to get your blade out and mayhap your mace and go to work on the bitch.

(Oh and there are some Decemberists mp3s too.)

Jackass?

Word is Johnny Knoxville has taken over Pike's Pale.

One more from the Thigh Master.

Sorry. I know. I should just say go the fuck over to Thighs Wide Shut and be done with it. So go do that.

In the meantime, here's one more post from the most excellent Thigh Master.

For the drunks.

And you know who I'm talkin' 'bout.

I present to you the Drinkometer - The Drink-o-Meter Test - How much Alcohol have you consumed?

Knock yerselves out.

I've consumed roughly 4,513.86 drinks.
I get the feeling that my total might be kinda low in comparison to others...

(Link via Thighs once again.)

For PL.

A pic of everyone's favorite creepy celeb Republican Vincent Gallo chillin' with the NY Young Republicans.

(Link via Thighs Wide Shut.)

Wow. They hate him.

She Hate Me has a Metacritic score of 19. Ouch.

OG of EW:
"[It] manages to be at once racist, homophobic, utterly fake, and unbearably tedious."
And this is coming from the critic who adored Bamboozled!

Reason #13,124 Why I Love whatevs.org

For insane, cryptic, hysterical posts like this: "In case you hadn't heard, it's National Orgasm Week. uh, according to my records, that's EVERY week. each week that passes without the requisite amount of tees being bovs'd upon is totally Bunkasaurous Hives. obvs! "

Quote of the day.

"I don't mind saying I find her very attractive—a European film star in the vein of Jeanne Moreau, or Anouk Aimée. But not everyone loves foreign movies like I do."

--Chris Matthews on Ms. Heinz Kerry.
(as reported by Dana Stevens.)

Joy of joys, pt. II

As you may have noticed from the Joys of Text blurb (in the column to the right), I was recently reading the third book in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unoftunate Events. It's mildly embarassing to get wrapped up in children's lit, but these books are so witty and charming that I can't help it. I tried the Harry Potter books, but J.K. Rowling's bland/clunky writing just kills them for me. Mr. Snicket (aka Daniel Handler, who is an auxillary member of The Magnetic Fields), on the other hand, does not have this problem. His writing is authoritative and wry.
One of my favorite bits of the third book (entitled The Wide Window) is the discussion near the end of the end of the book, wherein the good author tries to figure out if there's a moral to this story:

[I]t would be difficult for me to tell you what the moral of this story is. In some stories, it's easy. The moral of "The Three Bears," for instance, is "Never break into someone's house." The moral of "Snow White" is "Never eat apples." The moral of World War One is "Never assasinate Archduke Ferdinand."

I had always wondered just what the moral of World War One was. Mr. Snicket solved that one for me.

Joy of joys.

Are you people watching The Amazing Race 5 yet? I know Tom and Jessica are. All y'all motherfucker better be... and soon.

Last night's episode was beyone excellent. It answered the age old question "Is there anything better than watching a midg-- er, little person schlep around a huge piece of beef?"

The answer, btw, is yes, there is something much better. And it is watching a mi-- um, little person eat two pounds of Russian caviar.

@@@ BREAKING NEWS @@@

Three stories from the Indy Press:

Tim Aaron Arrested in Crack Cocaine Bust

Writer's Assistant Pierluigi Cothran Had Affair With Underage Intern, Sources Say

Josh Gibson Caught With Alleged Prostitutes in Motel Raid

Romanek vs. Gondry vs. Gondry vs. LaChapelle vs., um, Barber.

VMA nominations were announced. Excited? Yeah, me neither. But the best director category wasn't too bad:

Best Direction In A Video
 Jay-Z, "99 Problems" (Director: Mark Romanek)
 No Doubt, "It's My Life" (Director: David LaChapelle)
 Outkast, "Hey Ya!" (Director: Bryan Barber)
 White Stripes, "The Hardest Button to Button" (Director: Michel Gondry)
 Steriogram, "Walkie Talkie Man" (Director: Michel Gondry)

Here's the complete list of nominees.

Gorey Death.

You will swallow some tacks. You are a little
weird, maybe not so much in a good way. Buy a
yellow tie and wear it on your head.


What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
brought to you by Quizilla

Oh and compare little Leo from above to this still from the NIN video:

2 + 2 = 5

1) DSL.
I finally joined the 21st Century and got DSL at home. Now I can blow way too much money at iTunes store, download the trailer for Seed of Chucky in 5 seconds, and get mad bondo porno at the snap of my fingers.
The joke is, of course, that when I woke up this morning the service was down. sigh. Welcome to DSLville.

2) Nine Inch Nails' "The Perfect Drug" video (dir: Mark Romanek).

I hadn't seen this video in ages and was surprised by the humor and how explicit of an homage it is to the work of Edward Gorey. The video holds up beautifully and is (more) proof that Mark Romanek is one of the best video directors out there.

3) A Perfect Circle's The Thirteenth Step.
I bought a used copy of this on a whim and really like it. I'm not all that familiar with Tool (I know, I know... everyone is always trying to get me to jump on that bandwagon), but this just hits me as perfect high school music. All angsty and alt.rock-circa-1996-soundng. Plus it never hurts to hire Jon Brion to work on your album.

4) Chopin's Nocturne in E minor.
The back-story: when I was in fourth grade, we had to watch the Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation of The Secret Garden. It was a blah-whatever-type of TV movie, but I was struck by this melancholic piano music that played over the opening. There were no music credits at the end and I never knew what it was. When I took a music appreciation course in seventh grade, I heard Chopin and realized that was probably the composer of that sad music that I had been tracking down. Then I totally forgot about it and just kind of stumbled upon the Chopin listing at the iTunes store last night. And now, fourteen years later, I finally have that fucking piece of music. I'm going to go put it on, listen to that pretty music, and weep because I am crippled and/or because my parents died of cholera in India or/and my father is Archibald Craven.

5) The Bourne Supremacy.
I loved every second of it. Crazy car chases, brilliant editing, explosions, terse phone exchanges, Julia Stiles (even if she never said "Cafetorium." Which, in case you wondering, should be a prerequisite when Ms. Stiles is in a moving picture show.), Joan Allen in a role that didn't require her to be a frigid, downtrodden wife... A perfect summer movie.

Blanchett boobies?

MPAA Movie Ratings:
The Life Aquatic
Rated R for language, some drug use, violence and partial nudity.

Wigs / Bush.

Mo is turning into one of my favorite bloggers. When she's not hanging out with an Afghan Wig, she's talking about the pros and cons of thefemale pubic thatch.

K E N

This is such a nerded out post, but what the hell... Believe it or not, there is a website devoted to Ken (you know, everyone's favorite insanely brilliant Mormon Jeopardy! contestant) and the different wacky-ass ways he signs his name.

OK back to Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.

It's true.

Bob over at My Blog Is Poop has made a shocking discovery: Adrian Grenier is just a bigger version of Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf. Don't believe me? Click the link above and peep it yourself.

Jenna & Barb <3 The Postal Service.

Wonkette has the transcript of the Barb & Jenna Bush chat that was held the other night.

In addition to loving their Dad and country, we also learn that the twins love them some Modest Mouse, The Stroke, and The Postal Service. (Clearly they got a Seth Cohen gift pack at some point.)

Wonkette also sniffs a conspiracy. She notes that some of the answers (to admittedly shitty questions) seem awfully Stepfordian.

Dig:

Susan Kildow from Holly Springs NC wrote:
As young women who embody the future of our nation, how important do you believe character to be when choosing a candidate and how does your dad stack up?

Barbara and Jenna Bush answered:
Well, Susan, to us character is the most vital part of being an excellent leader. While we may be a little biased because he is our dad, we think - well, we KNOW -- that our Dad is a man of strong and principled character. If he says he is going to do something, he will do it.  When we were kids, if dad said he was going to come to one of our soccer games, he would be there! And now even his critics can't argue that he is a steadfast leader who means what he says and acts with resolve.  At the same time, he always treats everyone he meets with dignity and respect.


Methinks Wonkette just might be on to something.

I'm thinking about buying one of these.

UPDATE: Whilst driving at lunch, I heard Dr. Laura break down and start sobbing on the air because she heard about these t-shirts. No joke. Crying like a baby. So to speak.

Per Urby's request, here's the link to the t-shirt.

TNR Convention blog.

I'm thinking that if the 1820 editorial staff of the Kinderhook Free Press were around, they might be able to spice up those convention blogs that everyone keeps yammering about. It's all such a snooze.
I did find one that's kind of fun. The New Republic's Ryan Lizza is on the floor at the Fleet Center, reporting that nothing's happening and then the good Mr. Moore shows up and starts hamming it up for the press.

Lizza writes: "By my count, Moore only made one claim that was flat-out wrong (not bad). Speaking of the many horse-race numbers that show Bush and Kerry in a dead heat, he said, 'When you look at those polls, remember that they are only polling likely voters.' Actually, many of these surveys are of course polling registered voters or even just adults, and they largely show the same dead heat race. But whatever.

The highlight of Moore's stroll was his detour over to CNN's floor-level set, where anchor Bill Hemmer was being interviewed by a print reporter.

Moore ambled up beside Hemmer and began repeating, 'Some people want you dead? Why would you say that?' Apparently, Hemmer had asked Moore that question in a recent interview. After trying to ignore him, Hemmer simply responded, 'Just a minute, Michael.' Michael decided not to wait.

'A lot of our kids are dead because those fuckers haven't done their job," he barked and walked away for a TV interview.'"

Year of the blog?

MVB says F that.

Also: MVB notes that the New York Times is "still no Kinderhook Free Press circa 1820." Duh.

DD:DC.

Just a few words about the Donnie Darko: Director's Cut that was just released in theaters.

It's excellent to get to see it on the big screen again, esp. since they've tweaked the special effects (nothing Lucas-drastic, just improved them so they don't look quite so indie) and amped up the sound. However, most of the deleted material that they put back is totally unnecessary. There's a good Watership Down sequence and some nice extra moments with the Darko parents, but it's pretty uneventful.

I do have one big problem: they cut Echo & The Bunnymen's "Killing Moon" from the opening sequence. In its place is INXS' "Never Tear Us Apart." Not cool. It's a distracting deletion and lacks all the weird menace and swagger of the original. I get the sneaking suspicion that Richard Kelly thought he was being symmetrically witty by opening with "Never Tear Us Apart" and then having Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" near the end. Whatever his thoughts on the matter, it's a big f up.

But like I said: it was excellent to get to see it on the big screen again.

Nerd alert.

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith.

I'm actually cool with it.

It's funny, last night at the ArcLight I saw a guy walking around in the official t-shirt (that they're selling at the link above) and thought "Huh, those fanboys sure are crafty." I'm assuming he prob. bought that shit at ComicCon and raced back to LA to be the first to spread the word.

I, Jewbot.

Gawker's got proof that Woody is a cyborg. Scary.

Here we go again.

Sounds promising.
Hollywoodreporter.com: 'Watchmen' unmasked for Par, Aronofsky

'Watchmen,' the seminal DC Comics limited series, has landed at Paramount Pictures. Darren Aronofsky will develop and direct the project, which is being written by David Hayter. Aronofsky's producing partner Eric Watson will produce with Larry Gordon and Lloyd Levin. 'Watchmen,' created by writer Alan Moore and artist Dave Gibbons, was released as a 12-issue comic book in 1986 and is one of the most critically acclaimed series in the genre. The comic is credited for redefining the superhero genre and is often referred to as the 'War and Peace' of comic books. It is a crime-conspiracy story that provided the first realistic look at the behind-the-heroics lives of superhero archetypes.

From way, way up...

Have you seen these?
if you go to http://terraserver.microsoft.com you can get the most spectacular satellite shots.

Like this one.

No way!

eBay item 2256298346 (Ends Jul-31-04 01:00:00 PDT) - The K.I.T.T. car from Knight Rider

No spin!

Bill O'Reilly says that according to the Paris Business Review, France has lost close to a billion dollars due to an American Boycott he is leading. Problem is: there is no Paris Business Review. Oops.

Meanwhile, Jack Matthews wants to have a no-spin-off.

Temperate and nearly cloudless.

Have you perused the 9/11 Comission's final report? I think what's most surprising is how it's written all eloquently and shit.

Here's the opening from "Chapter One: 'We Have Some Planes'":

"Tuesday, September 11, 2001, dawned temperate and nearly cloudless in the eastern United States. Millions of men and women readied themselves for work. Some made their way to the Twin Towers, the signature structures of the World Trade Center complex in New York City. Others went to Arlington, Virginia, to the Pentagon. Across the Potomac River, the United States Congress was back in session. At the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, people began to line up for a White House tour. In Sarasota, Florida, President George W. Bush went for an early morning run.

For those heading to an airport, weather conditions could not have been better for a safe and pleasant journey.Among the travelers were Mohamed Atta and Abdul Aziz al Omari, who arrived at the airport in Portland, Maine."

It's like a Tom Clancy novel! Jerry Bruckheimer is so going to option that shit in a second.

Advice.

When one is engaged in a correspondence with a former president, one must proceed with caution. Do I drop it? Do I press on?
(And just to clarify: when I asked the question below, it was hyperlinked to the quiz.)

Dig:

Ben said...
Mr. President--
I felt compelled to write.
1) Thank you for all that you do on your blog. I now know the proper procedure for purchasing a footstool.
2) I really must know: which Degrassi character are you? Fondly,
Ben

President Martin Van Buren said...
Degrassi, is that some kind of Hopi? Perhaps a Souix [sic]?

Awwww.

It sounds like somebody is crushin'.

InStyle Magazine: If you could have lunch with anyone, who would it be?

Adrian Grenier: Noam Chomsky. He's such an adorable genius.

An open letter from The New Republic.

AN OPEN LETTER TO 'ENTOURAGE' VIEWERS:

Dear 'Entourage' Viewer:

By now you've probably noticed that The New Republic isn't quite as cool as it sounded when that guy from PCU mentioned us in last night's premiere episode. I'd just like to point out that we're also not as uncool as you probably think we are at this point. It just looks that way because you expected to find a really cool website, and instead you found us.

Actually, we are pretty cool. Okay, maybe not objectively speaking. We don't drive Hummers or wear oversized Yankees paraphernalia or anything like that. (Though some of us are pretty big sports fans. And sometimes I walk around in a white undershirt when it gets really hot in my office.) But I'd say we're pretty cool in relative terms. For example, we're all pretty smart, and I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a cooler bunch of smart people. To put it in 'Entourage' terms, we're kind of like Eric. I think we'd all agree that Eric's not going to blow anyone away with his innate coolness. But when you consider that he's really the brains behind the whole operation, you're probably pleasantly surprised to find out how cool he really is. That's all I'm saying.

Yours,

Noam Scheiber

Quote of the Day.

(Via Uncle Grambo.)


"To me, it is a really neat thing. But for some people -- who have small dogs or cats or kids -- it isn't so neat!"
— Lance DeVoe, city naturalist of Rochester Hills, on the proliferation of
of coyotes in the Detroit suburbs.

She's not the only one.

Have you guys seen the trailer to Spike Lee's new joint, She Hate Me? Man does that shit look tired, heavy-handed and painfully unfunny. A comedy about a dude knocking up lipstick lesbos while embroiled in an ImClone-like scandal could be funny... I guess... OK, well, probably not...

Spike needs to get it together. It's becoming impossible to excuse his increasingly shitty output.

AR5.

J.B. is right: The Amazing Race 5 is so the bestest shit on TV right now (aside from Degrassi, of course).

And Timbo totally got a hanjie from Charla.

Lame.

Again: I guess the truth hurts.
At least I get to f Paige.


You're Spinner! You're almost like the male
equivilant of a ditz. You do run with the most
popular group (Jimmy, Marco, Craig) and the
hottest chick in school (Paige) is your new
girlfriend. A lot of the time you act out,
don't think before you speak, and are a bit
closed minded. You really, really need to work
on your intellect. But we do all know you have
a heart of gold. You're with Paige because you
supported her during her darkest hour, you're
always interested in your friend's lives, are
willing to give up your reputation for some
things that are more important, and protective
of your siblings. The biggest problem you have
though, is accepting one of your closest
friends sexuality. Maybe if you stay with Paige
long enough, she'll teach you how to deal with
school, friends, and your slight case of
homophobia (Her brother is gay after all!).
Everyone pretty much knows that just because
you're not the brightest crayon in the box,
doesn't mean you're not a sweetie on the
inside.


Which Degrassi Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

T or F...

Pierluigi sometimes goes by the name Daniel J. Joyner.

"Rick Moody is more of a motherfucker than Oedipus."

No, that's not Dale Peck going at it again. It's Quinn Skylark. Mr. Skylark has a bookblog, but he's really frustrated and upset and ready to throw the towel in. I don't really give a shit about the blog, but kind of enjoy his meltdown. Here's some more:

"Sigh. I just don't have the energy for a single-minded bookblog anymore. It's rather depressing really. Back when I was posting with more regularity, I had the energy to come into my office job in the morning, research some articles, and get them posted, but the fun in it seems to be gone.
I mean, what do I really care if Dale Peck gets punched in the face? Who the fuck is Dale Peck other than a pissant critic anyway?
Dave Eggers recent writing only contributes to his tiresome phoniness. Jonathan Franzen sucks eggs. Rick Moody is more of a motherfucker than Oedipus. David Foster Wallace swings his intellect like a war club.
Jonathan Lethem is alright, Michael Chabon, David Markson, Stephen Dixon, Lorrie Moore and Stephen Milhauser, but Steve Almond? Good Sir Christ, why does anybody even bother to read My Life in Heavy Metal?
What do I care if less Americans are reading for pleasure? I've always read more than most Americans and I will continue to whether they read books or not."

Man, somebody needs to drink more water, get some sleep, and read more issues of The Believer.

Savage & Wonkette?

Hey now! (It's funny, sometimes I wonder if Dan Savage is just Josh Gibson pseudonym.)

= = = = =

Question: If they not only amend the U.S. Constitution to ban gay marriage, Dan, but also put language in there forcing gay guys to marry women, who would get to be the lucky Mrs. Savage?
Just Curious

Wonkette, of course, as she's the only woman I know who likes to talk about ass-fucking as much as I do (www.wonkette.com). If Wonkette won't have me, then I'd pop the question to Mary Cheney, Vice-President Dick Cheney's lesbo daughter. Mary worked for the Bush/Cheney campaign in 2000, doing outreach to gay and lesbian voters—effective outreach, apparently, as almost 25 percent of them went for Bush. (You dumbfucks!) Mary is working for her dad again this year, in spite of the fact that her dad and her dad's boss want to write anti-gay bigotry into the U.S. Constitution. As Mary's husband, I would do all I could to make her absolutely miserable. I wouldn't beat her (I reserve that for people I like), but I would pee on the toilet seat every morning, fart under the covers every night, and remind her at every opportunity that she's the most despised American lesbian since Mamie Eisenhower.

2 + 2 = 5

1) The following excerpt from "Girlie-Men Unite!" (posted on Fagistan).

Josh takes Arnold on (and takes Maria down in the process). Funny as hell.

"Arnold, isn't it at least a little girlie to make your living by oiling up your body and acting like a female Soviet weightlifter turned stripper? We all saw those photos of you from the 70s. You were just one moustache shy of the Village People, dude. Bruce Villanch was butcher than you. You had to marry a horse-faced half-Kennedy who I'm pretty sure has undescended testes. You probably unleashed all those ass-grabbing rumors just to cover up your molestation of Danny DeVito on the set of Twins. You're definitely the faggiest Republican since Dan Quayle, and that includes Orrin Hatch and Steve Forbes. So don't think you can call me a girlie man and get away with it, Mr. Fake n' Bake. I've got your fuckin' number."

2) "Bird Woman" animation test.

Thanks to FleshBot, I was able to experience the joy that is watching the "beta test version of AM2004's new dynamic bone" animation program.
Of course, these animators couldn't just test the program with, oh, a photo-realistic version of some anonymous woman walking. They had to make her a big-boobied half-bird warrior. And the inter-web is a better place for it. This is what she looks like:



You can watch this breathtaking piece of art here.

3) Identity Theory Interviews.

Robert Birnbaum is one well-read motherfucker.
He puts his booksmarts to use in a series of interviews posted at Identity Theory. His list of interviewees is a who's who of writers that I love and/or respect: Martin Amis, TC Boyle, Jonathan Safran Foer, James Ellroy, Christopher Hitchens (twice!), Anthony Lane, Barbara Eherenrich, Chip Kidd, Andre Dubus III, Barry Gifford, Dorothy Allison, David Thomson, Donna Tartt, Sarah Vowell, Richard Russo, Susan Orlean and Ethan Hawke. Read up, kids.

4) Excerpt from Chuck Klosterman's essay "Toby Over Moby." (From the collection Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs.)

I know, I posted something from Mr. Klosterman two weeks ago. Eat it. He's rad. Here's another excerpt that I loved:

Contrary to what you may have heard from Henry Rollins or/and Ian MacKaye and/or anyone who has joined a band after working in an ice cream shop, you can't really learn much about a person based on what kind of music they happen to like. As a personality test, it doesn't work even half the time. However, there is at least one thing you can learn: The most wretched people in the world are those who tell you they like every kind of music "except country music." People who say that are boorish and pretentious at the same time. All it means is they've managed to figure out the most rudimentary rule of pop sociology; they know that hipsters gague the coolness of others by their espoused taste in sound, and they know that hipsters hate modern country music. And they hate it because it speaks to normal people in a tangible, rational manner. Hipsters hate it because they hate Midwesterners, and they hate Southerners, and they hate people with real jobs.

Amen.

5) "Black Cherry (M83 Remix)" by Goldfrapp.


The original version of the song is all warm synth washes and cooing vocals. M83 gets its crazy frog hands on it and freeze dries it into a moody piece that's the aural equivalent of a chilly European night.

The apocalypse is f-ing nigh.

Yahoo! News - Report: Michael Jackson to Be Father of Quadruplets

Puccini, Porter, Piaf, Public Enemy, Pulp

The Magnetic Fields' Stephin Merritt picks one best recording from each year of the 20th century.

So that's what happened.

I went in for some work on the old sack and left the doctor's office not feeling so hot.

WTF?

What's up with the new suck-ass interface at All Music? It's almost impossible to navigate and sorta ugly. Boo-urns to that move.

Mission accomplished.

As per usual, Josh doesn't disappoint. I haven't had a chance to give it a thorough reading (will do so at lunch), but it looks great.

And in related news: Josh's tenth best president weighs in on NASCAR.

End of the weekend roundup.

1. Entourage. It sucked. Yes, there are mad hot bytchz in it. Yes, it's fun to see a bunch of locations that I/we drive by daily. But, in the word's of the wise Tim Aaron, it's all so charmless. Adrian Grenier blows. And, while semi-funny, Jeremy Piven is a wee-bit over the top.

2. To wash away the post-Entourage blahs, I watched the best show currently on TV... that would be The N's Degrassi: The Next Generation. Are you people watching this shit? If not, a pox on all y'all. It manages to be so ovewrought and so hopelessly sentimental (y'know, exactly like high school) that you can't help but watch. In the episode I caught tonight, Manuela decides she needs to wear a thong to attract the boys, Paige enters an Elvis impersonater contest, Spinner and (fuck I can't remember her name) cut class in a sequence ripped from Ferris, and Emma stumbles across her chemo-taking step-dad's last will and testament. Oh it was all too scrumtralescent. Learn to love, peeps. Learn to love.

3. Finally saw Josh's bday card(s) to Tim. Nearly pissed myself when I saw (a) his illustration of Hitchens performing an act of sodomy upon Sully and (b) his use of the term "dark fuck-cave."

4. OK. That's all for now. Good night to all in Blogville.

Blog Challenge.

Today at lunch, I was talking to Tim about compiling a list of the 10 best presidents who've lead this country. I realized I don't have the insight/smarts/whatevs to make such a list.

But I bet Josh does. (I mean, I know Josh does.)

So I would like to see Josh's list of the 10 best presies ever. And why. You got served, El Presidente de Fagistan.

Happy birthday, Tommy.

Have a bitchin' day, yo.

"Some of it is just transcendental / Some of it is just really dumb."

Saw The Magnetic Fields last night. It didn't disappoint. The highlight for me: Stephin Merrit performing "The Book of Love" (one of the finest of the 69 Love Songs) alone on his ukelele. Of course the mood was killed when the song was followed with the news that Peter Gabriel has recorded the song (in a very different way) for the J. Lo/Richard Gere remake Shall We Dance. Shudder.

Fuck(ing Machines)!

Josh says I'm still wrong.

Damn.

Anyhoo, now that I know it's not Andy or PL, I can now safely assume that it's Coleen. As I recall she used to hook up her skinny, indie boyfriends to fuck machines, so this would only make sense.

Props, Col. Props.

Huzzah for PL!

Josh says my assumption that Andy is the new employee of Fucking Machines is way off.

OK.

Congrats PL.

I knew the whole Alias gig wasn't going to work and it wouldn't be long before you moved from working in Burbank to working in Van Nuys. Mazel tov. I'm sure Papa Cothran is thrilled to have a son having sex at 350 rpm.

Way to go Andy!

I knew that Andy would move onto bigger and better ventures after the demise of City Video. I just hope the movies don't involve his bird.

Oh Courtney.

I guess that Frances Farmer obsession turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The joy of being a H'wood asst.

Uncle G at Whatevs introduced me to Mo.

Mo has a great Ike Turner story. Here's an excerpt:

I received a call from our receptionist that Mr. Ike Turner was downstairs. I passed on the info that my boss was in a meeting and couldn't be interrupted, but it turned out that Ike wanted ME to come downstairs to help him out. As I came out of the elevator, I was greeted with, "Well, there's my lovely voice! And a lovely lady too..." (Sigh.) I told him my boss was in a meeting, and he said that he just wanted two things: two find out if "some woman" was stealing his money, and to meet that voice on the other end of the line. I was leaning against a counter, and pretty soon he was leaning up against the other side of me. And that man was all bling, let me tell you. He was wearing loads of gold chains, a gold bracelet the width of my hand, and a freakin' Superbowl sized ring encrusted with diamonds which I just kept imagining hitting the side of Tina's head. So he asked me if I would find out what address we had on record for him, "just in case that bitch, Beatrice, is trying to run off with my money." I said sure.

For more click here.

Rage, part 2.

A couple weeks ago, I raged about the horrifying gang rape case going on in the OC. Days after I posted my rant, the jury became "hopelessly deadlocked" and a mistrial was declared and the three accused rapists were free on bail.

Now, when you are out on bail and have a retrial, a civil trial and a whole bunch of press on your case, I would think you would keep a low profile.

Nope.

Greg Haidl decided to have some more sex with underage girls.

Way to go, Greg. Way to go.

BlogShares.

Are you guys aware of this fantasy blog-stock-market? I stumbled onto it today and was surprised to find that we are all on there. Here's my data: BlogShares - The Whine Colored Sea. I'm a bit confused by the whole thing, but it looks kinda fun.

Ameoba celebs.

Man, the only celeb I ever see at Ameoba is, er, Ernest Dickerson.

From Defamer:

So I vomited slightly yesterday evening as my eyes drifted towards this puny man at strolling through Amoeba Records dressed in a black blazer, with awful black hair plugs, black sunglasses (like it was so bright inside), and accompanied by a big bodyguard (to keep him away from undoubtedly the throngs of adoring fans that would be clamoring for an autograph). It was none other than has-been David Gest, aka Mr. Liza Minelli.

I don't blame Liza for hitting him.

The list is life.

July 13's USA Today had an article about the ten essential Criterion dvds for your collection.

Here's the list:
Rashomon
The Rules of the Game
Rushmore
The Seventh Seal
The Third Man
8 1/2
Gimme Shelter
The 39 Steps
Do the Right Thing
The Passion of Joan of Arc

Overall, not too shabby methinks. A nice cross-section. I'd probably sub Notorious for The 39 Steps, but what do I know.

On As I Lay Dying.

Josh has requested that I blog some thoughts about Mr. Faulkner's As I Lay Dyinng. Well, he actually requested that I blog my thoughts on the novel when I finish it. Screw that, still reading it, here's a thought:

It makes me want to drink water from a gourd.

Stay tuned for more Faulked up musings.

Dammit.

The truth hurts.



-Bad- You're the exact opposite of what any guy
wants or needs, unless he happens to need a
quick lay. You're cruel. You toy with people.
You're probably a bitch, and i don't think i'd
like you if i met you. Oh go screw a random
male already.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

October 19.

That's the release date for Elliott's final album, from a basement on the hill. Anti is releasing it. "Distorted Reality" has been re-recorded (it's not the same one from the Pretty (Ugly Before) 7"). Also of note: it appears that some of the material that Elliott recorded with Jon Brion survived (not quite sure what).

Here's the track list:
1. Coast to Coast
2. Let's Get Lost
3. Pretty (Ugly Before)
4. Don't Go Down
5. Strung Out Again
6. Fond Farewell
7. King's Crossing
8. Ostriches & Chirping
9. Twilight
10. A Passing Feeling
11. Last Hour
12. Shooting Star
13. Memory Lane
14. Little One
15. A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to be Free

Go to Sweet Adeline for full credits and more details.

Per Josh's request...

Find out which dysfunctional Care Bear you are.

Unfortunately the test wasn't responding due to capacity problems, but maybe it'll be back up when you check.

If not, you could always find out what kind of girlfriend you are.

Badonicus update.

Over at theBADLANDS there's a crazy amout of activity. Here's a quick rundown of everyone's fave hate-spewing blogger:

1.Big surprise, he's not a big fan of Orthodox Jews.
(Which Is The Most Backward Religion On Earth? Santeria? Voodoo? The PCA? Or maybe the one that teaches that Jesus Christ is boiling in hot feces for all eternity? And requires its orthodox clergy to clean a circumcision wound by sucking the blood from the baby's penis?)

2. He's pissed about the lineup of speakers at the Republican Convention.
(Fag lovin' pro aborts dominate primetime at Republican convention.)

3.He's offended by Joe Budden's rap in the remix of Usher's "Confessions Pt. II."

I think Mr. Budden's rap is brilliant. Dig: “Pray that she abort that, If she’s talkin’ ‘bout keepin’ it / One hit to the stomach, She’s leakin’ it."

Nothin' like talk about oozing fetal tissue to make me krunked at the club. Holla at ya, playa!

As mentioned, Badonicus is not amused:
Negro writes this stuff, Jewish record companies put this stuff out, Jewish media promote and play it, and Negro audiences aren't complaining. And I'm a hater for wanting nothing to do with either culture.

And that's your update for now.

Hitch on Edwards.

Hitch gives The Mirror a blurb on John Edwards. In a nutshell: good move. Oh and he opines that Edwards is no Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Here we go.

Adam Sandler was surfing in Hawaii and fucked up his head. P.T. Anderson was there to capture it all on film.



For more photos, click here.

Buying the baby alien.

British pop-star Chris de Burgh (the dude who sang the classic '80s cheese ballad "Lady In Red") bought the actual chest-bursting baby alien from Alien.

I think the most shocking thing about the article is not that he paid 29,000 pounds for the thing, but that he is (a) alive and (b) still recording.

DSLs.

Uncle Grambo's got an ace Maria Sharapova pic.

(You just have to scroll down a little.)

Best... quiz.... ever....

From Quizilla.


Stoner Bear

Fair & balanced watch.

Why I love Wonkette - Reason number 8,761:
Ana Marie got her grubby hands on a whole bunch of internal Fox News memos.
I must agree with AM that this might be the best line:
"The President and the PM of Canada meet today and will make remarks at midday. Take the remarks, evein if Jacko is singing on top of a truck with no pants on at the time."

There are 33 memos in total and they are pretty revealing. I guess. The general tone: make everything patriotic, send out your prayers on air (esp. as an F you to the ACLU), downplay troop deaths, make it sound like John Kerry hates babies and the unborn, etc.

Oh and in case you were wondering, Reason number 8,760 is: Ana Marie Cox-Wonkette is going to the MTV's Choose Or Loose convention correspondent. No joke.

Bush gets his pimp on.

I'm such a simpelton, this made me laugh.

Squirt Blog. No, this isn't about a bukake blog.

Hey, remember Squirt TV?
I had forgotten about it until its host, Jake Fogelnest, showed up as a talking head on I Love the '90s. For those who don't remember, Squirt TV was this mid-90s public access-turned-MTV chat show where young Jake would have celebs like Weezer and Lucious Jackaon come hang out in his room, talk, play music and eat homemade cookies.

Turns out that Jake has a blog. It's not particularly great, but I find it especially rad that his avatar is that title card from Magnolia that says "So Now Then."

Bitchin'.

The 'box.

I would just like to say that I am touched by the way the 'sphere has embraced the term "jewbox." I know that I didn't coin the term, but I still feel like a proud parent.

And in related news, Badonicus has Canada's number:
Traveling to Canada?
Keep in mind that Canada is a "free" country. So it's perfectly alright if you're going there to accuse their Prime Minister, and the Queen of England, and Al Gore, and President Bush, and former President Bush, and Dick Cheney and hundreds of other famous people of being shape shifting lizards from outer space who feed on human flesh, and engage in pedophilia and child sacrifice. If that's the purpose of your trip, hey, no worries. Just don't say anything even slightly critical of Jews. They'll seize your books, burn them, and deport you. They don't need any hatefilled wackos.

2 + 2 = 5

1) The ending of Before Sunset.
Don't get me wrong: I loved all of Before Sunset. You can't ask for much more from a sequel.

But that ending... It hits all the right notes in such a precise and intelligent way, that I left the theater buzzing.

2) "A Better Version of Me (Version 4 - Rough Mix 2/18/04)" by Fiona Apple.
The second leaked track from Ms. Apple's long-delayed album isn't quite as stunning as the first. That said, "Better Version of Me" is a brilliant collage of Jon Brion's percussive insanity and Apple's torrent of linguistic gymnastics.

3) VH1's I Love the '90s .


I know, I know... There are too many of those pop culture list shows polluting the airwaves. But dammit... after the first two shows, I'm hooked. Maybe it's 'cause I have such fond/vivid memories of the MC Hammer/Vanilla Ice feud, New Jack City, Marion Barry's crack smoking escapades, Sinead O'Connor's video and learning about how Anita Hill doesn't dig pubes on her Coke cans.

Oh and I'm having sex with Rachel Harris.

4) Alphabetical by Phoenix.
My second favorite French band releases ten new jams that sound like the bastard spawn of Air Supply and Dr. Dre.

5) Operation "Buy Hitchens a Drink".
Despite Josh's attempt to paint it some other way, I embrace Mr. Hitchens' love of the drink. I get pissy (so to speak) when critics dismiss everything the man says because he enjoys him some Johnnie Walker. (I also get pissy when they try to dismiss him because he hates Mother T. So whatevs.)

But I am all for buying (in the words of the website) "a fitting salute to our favorite leftist contrarian."

I have found the answer!

Check it: Wired News: Bloggers Suffer Burnout

The always entertaining Mr. Wainwright.

Rufus never disappoints in the drama dept.:

Rufus Wainwright knows all too well what it's like to go blind from drug abuse.

The flamboyant cabaret-pop singer, who turns 31 next week, says a lethal combination of crystal meth, Ecstasy, special K (ketamine) and cocaine robbed him of his sight — but it wasn't all darkness.

"I saw about 10,000 video screens of gay porn featuring Jerry Garcia, and the soundtrack was that instant message sound," he says, referring to AOL's fairydust IM noise.

"I couldn't speak. I was moaning. I didn't know if I'd return to the real world."

But he did — and then he wept for three days straight.

"Every 15 minutes I was Anna Karenina all over again," says Wainwright, never at a loss for theatrics.

So naturally, he turned to Sir Elton John for help...

If you want more drama, click here.

Props to Stereogum for the link.

Blog of the day.

I'd like to introduce y'all to one of the most exciting blogs I've found in ages. That would beBadonicus' BADLANDS.

Why do I love this blog so much?

1. He hates that his Christian brothers try to pretend that racism isn't sanctioned by the Bible. He is on a Jesus-lovin' quest to spread the word of God... and that word is God hates "racemixing."

2. He calls TV "the Jewbox."

3. This entry: Britney Spears: Faggot.

4. He's an accomplished playwright. Here's an excerpt from his latest piece, A Bowtie in the Sun:

In a dirty, cramped living room, three adult Negroes are conversating. The furniture is sparse and decrepit, save for a giant plasma TV on the wall, which is the focus of attention of 9 or 10 small children. As the children watch TV, Melvin X explains to Tyrone and Urethra the way things are.

Melvin X: See-dat's what I'm talkin' 'bout! Da white man is keeping you down. It ain't yo' fault you can't get ahead. It's all part "Da Plan". Dey's afraid of us, and dat's why dey put the chemicals in KFC to sterilize da black man.
Urethra: Sterlize da black man? Watchu talkin' bout? I gots 10 chirrens, and Tyrone is babydaddy to 5 o' dem. Dat's almost half. Don't sound like he be too sterlized..
Tyrone: Shut up, Reethy! I ain't tryin' to hear dat! Go get me another 40 and let Melvin speak. He makin' a lot o' sense. Go 'head, Melvin. Don't pay her no mind. Where'd you learn all dis stuff, anyways?
X: From Minister Farrakhan. He tell it like it eeyuz! You and Urethra need to start listenin' to his tapes and readin' his newspaper-it'll open your eyes to what da white man has done to our peoples. Like da crack epidemic dat's destroying da hood-you know who done dat, right?
T: Who?
X: Da CIA! Dey been pushin' crack to enslave us, to keep us down. Dey knows dey ain't no holdin' us back once we unite and fight da honkies together, so they flooded black neighborhoods with crack and herrin.
T: I's startin' to get mad, Melvin. Real mad. Dose honkies is some evil mofos.
Urethra (handing Tyrone a large bottle of malt liquor): Da CIA? You straight trippin' now Melvin. Unless you cousin Ray Ray in da CIA-he da only one sellin' crack on our corner.
T: DAMN YOU REETHY! I done tol' you onced to shut yo' mouf! Melvin here tryin' to speak da troof, an' you keep talkin' sideways out yo' neck! Don't make me go upside yo hayid! Go on Melvin. We needs to hear dis.
X: So dey get us all hooked on drugs, and den dey use da media to portray black mens as violent criminals. Den it's almo' impossible fo' a brutha to get a decent payin' job.
T: I hear dat. Wit' all dese negative stereotypes, it ain't no wonder I can't get no job.
U: Nigga, please! Da only reason you can't no job is you just too damn lazy to GET YO BLACK ASS OUT DA BED!
There is a long silence, as Tyrone glares at Urethra. Finally, he gets out of his chair.

5. The final reason this blog is the shit: the Keebler elves are responsible for gay marriage.
"Faggot marriage isn't the bastard child of the Jewish media praising anything that moves us away from our forebears' beliefs as "progress", and reviling anyone who retains too many of those beliefs as a "hater". No, none of that had anything to do with faggot marriage, Virginia. Ya wanna know how we got gay marriage, Virginia? Well, you never would believe where that homo marriage comes from-it's baked by little elves in a hollow tree."

The reviews aren't the problem... you are.

God NPR is annoying.

It seems NPR listeners have been complaining that the music reviews are inscrutable and NPR's ombudsman, Jeffery Dvorkin, agrees.

I'll be the first to admit that rock crit--especially indie rock crit--is often intentionally obtuse and incomprehensible. Remember when Sully called out Pitchfork's review of Jon Brion's Eternal Sunshine soundtrack? Yeah, that was justified. If you forgot, let me give you an excerpt to refresh your memory: "Brion's insistence on certain themes popping in and out of his textures seems particularly appropriate, as the soundtrack's fluid matrix performatizes the cinematography's mind/body collapse: In the film, Brion's organi-synthgaze postlude "Phone Calls" plays after Joel decides not to try and save his first memory of Clementine, but just to enjoy it. Here, Brion's score meets Eternal Sunshine's oculophilia halfway, and fittingly comprises one of the film's most potent scenes."

Right.

With that in mind, go to Mr. Dvorkin's column and read excerpts from reviews that he cites as "incomprehensible," "hipper-than-thou" and "arch" and tell me what's so damn confusing.

Slate's Jeffery Wolk nails it on his blog: "I bet that if the Magnetic Fields review had been about Sondheim it wouldn't have been a big deal, and as a friend points out via email, if the Morrissey review had been about, say, David Hockney, nobody would have raised a peep about inscrutability... But the legitimate objection to these reviews--which Dvorkin doesn't actually raise--is that they're bad radio. Phrasing that would be redundant or bland in print is sometimes necessary for a piece that's meant to be heard rather than read."

(Hat tip to Mr. Matos.)

Damn blur.

Codswallop! He suffered a heart attack!

Bowie's "pinched nerve" is more serious than previously thought.

Star fucking.

Flew back to L.A. today.
My vacation was nice, quiet and uneventful.
The best part of my day: I get on the plane, get all situated in my seat and vacantly stare at the crowd of people jammed in the aisle that are waiting to get to their seats.
I look at this one woman and think: "She looks a lot like Liz Phair. But older." Then I think: "Fuck. Is that Liz Phair? It just might be." Then this lady makes her way further down the aisle and gets stuck close to me. I crane my neck and see her ticket. The name on the ticket? Elizabeth Phair. Huzzah!
Yes indeed, Liz Phair sat 8 rows behind me. Next to the bathroom, no less.

T or F: mid-flight I went up to her an asked her if she'd like to go in the bathroom and experience some of my H.W.C.

OK, that's false.

Oh and when I got back to L.A., went to see Anchor Man at the ArcLight and saw more celebs: Schwimmer and Seth & Summer from The O.C. Huzzah for my day of star fucking.

Oh and Anchor Man was fun as shit.

Just to clear things up.

Bush is not a chimp.

Ken.

Thomas was way ahead of the curve. Slate
covers Jeopardy! uber-champ Ken Jennings.

Some people just don't dig on the Chuck.

My good buddies over at the New York Press weren't too fond of Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs.

Check it:

"[Chuck Klosterman is] a one-man prose polluter, a living WMD employing the dummy ass-head as a delivery system. And I will forever hate this ass-creature for the pain and suffering he has caused me."

Rock scissors paper.

Saddam is totally into that shit.

Urby lives!

And he's writing about the joys of being an independent and Risky Business. Huzzah to that. Josh will be a happy PoMo.

Pssst.

Michael Moore has a blog.

One more Brit pic.

Sorry. I've been away for a while. There's a lot of catching up to do.

And PL thought she looked like an aging stripper the last time.

Brit Brit... get it together.



Thanks to Stereogum.

Checking back in.

Hello all.

Back from the lake, hanging at the parents' house until Friday. Here there be DSL... meaning I am back in the fray. I know, I know... you are all just too thrilled for words.

Tommy and Jessica: alas, we don't have the wheels to spare to get me from Plymouth, MI to Chicago. I would love to see you dirty fuckers, but it's just impossible on this trip.

PL: how goes the job?

Hope everyone's 4th of July was splendid and that Tim-Tim had a happy bday in the 'Nati. And huzzah for Mr. Edwards!

Ben

2 + 2 = 5

1) Thunderstorms (force of nature).

See, in the land of California there is very little rain. When there is rain, there is neven thunder and/or lightening. In the Midwest (especially in July) there are lots of thunderstorms. And there is nothing better than falling asleep during an intense storm.

2) Our little blogisphere.

It's nice to be back in the land of interweb connections, where I can see that my friends are still way too into drinking in the afternoon and post-structuralist/post-Zionist feminists. There's no place like home.

3) Britney's post-op leg.

If Crash just doesn't float your boat anymore, this just might.



4) Shirley Jones' press release re: the death of Marlon Brando (via Defamer).

I was out of the blogisphere when news of Marlon Brando's death rocked the world, so I'm not going to belatedly pontificate on the meaning of the Brando. Besides, Josh has taken care of it beautifully.
Instead, I'll share with you this thoughtful and deeply touching release from Academy Award winning friend of Brando, Shirley Jones.

"To:Entertainment News Desks/News Desks
The Death of Marlon Brando

Shirley Jones, Oscar winning actress and currently starring on Broadway in the musical '42nd Street', is saddened by the death of her co-star Marlon Brando in the hit comedy motion picture 'Bedtime Story' (1964).

Shirley can be reached for interviews through the following numbers: 310-xxx-xxxx or 310-xxx-xxxx for interviews concerning the death of her friend and co-star Marlon Brando."


5) Chuck Klosterman on Star Wars (from the essay "Sulking with Lisa Loeb on the Ice Planet Hoth" in Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs).

I don't know why it took me so goddam long to read this collection of essays, 'cause they're really outstanding... Just pages and pages of hilarious riffing on/dissection of pop culture. For whatever reason, I literally laughed out loud when I read this passage:

"It's become cool to like Star Wars, which actually means it's totally uncool to like Star Wars. I think you know what I mean by this: There was a time in our very recent history when it was "interesting" to be a Star Wars fan. It was sort of like admitting you masturbate twice a day, or that your favorite band was They Might Be Giants. Star Wars was something everyone of a certain age secretly loved, but never openly recognized."

So long.

To my loyal readers (all 3 of you),

Yo, I am audi. Off to visit the family at the lake and what not. I plan on doing a lot of reading, sleeping and drinking. I'm not sure what the computer situation is, so blogging is prob going to be slow to dead. Do your best without me, you best all do your Tuesday lists and try not to get into any heated F9/11 debates without me.

Oh and, guys, hate to say it... Spiderman 2 is booooooring.
Sad but true.

Have a happy 4th.

Ben

Shrug.

Whatevs.

Educate yourself.

Check out the email I got:

"I was looking at your blog and noticed that you mentioned Chuck's piece in
Esquire. I set up a blog about the theory at
http://advancedtheory.blogspot.com"

These guys are the f-ing masters. Bow down to them.

Josh's secret identity.

Who knew that Josh was such a Bubba fan that he would show up in LA, in drag just to get his copy of My Life autographed? That he rechristened himself Tutankhamen... well, that's to be expected. I also get the feeling that Josh-- er, Tutankhamen was the one who yelled "move your white ass." Read on.

Oh and Eso Won is a bookstore.

From the LA Weekly:

A woman who called herself Tutankhamen said she had been calling Eso Won since midnight trying to score a ticket, with no luck. She was willing to buy one off a scalper for up to $100, explaining that she had turned her house into something called a museum of mentors, and was determined to get an autographed book for her collection. “I want to talk to Clinton about my place,” she said, somewhat irately.

Rampant confusion about how and where to buy the 1,500 tickets allotted by Eso Won made for short tempers; two women in a notably unshaded stretch of line argued so fiercely about who had the right to be in front of whom, they nearly came to blows. “You oughta move your white ass!” one hissed at the other — odd, considering both were African-American, albeit different shades of brown. If anybody needed proof that race is still the most compelling metaphor for privilege around, here it was.

A Whine Colored Sea exclusive!

Since Josh is probably asleep, I can scoop him... President Martin Van Buren has responded to El Presidente de Fagistan.

First, Josh posted this:

Mr. President,
You are among my favorite dead presidents for many reasons. These reasons include your mutton chops and your status as father of the Democratic Party. My favorite things about you are your various nicknames: Old Kinderhook, the Red Fox of Kinderhook and the Little Magician. However, what do you have to say about the fact that you have been born again through the Reverend Sun Myung Moon, head of the Moonie cult. The statements of all dead presidents through Nixon are here. But I will post the complete text of what you, Martin Van B, had to say about Reverend Moon on June 17, 2002:
"People on earth must receive the Messiah's direct guidance.
I candidly accept that I failed to accomplish my responsibility as the father of the nation when I was on earth. I also confess that I did not even comprehend my own existence on earth. Until now I have lived here in the spirit world experiencing numerous mental struggles and much agony over these responsibilities. How could I have lived in such ignorance as to not realize that God's eternal aspect resides within human nature and that there exists another world that is vast and eternal? God, who is our parent and who wants to live together with us for eternity, has always existed and has constantly given us his silent instructions and guidance. Words cannot describe how ashamed I am or how much I reproach myself for completely neglecting this fact. I came to know these things for a certainty through the Divine Principle.
I want to be sure to take this opportunity to tell the people on earth one thing. That is that the spirit world where every person must live forever exists for a certainty. Those who do not prepare themselves on earth for life in this world are certain to face suffering and pain here. I hope that you will come here after having walked the correct path on earth. The quickest way to do so is to receive the instructions of the Messiah, who is on earth. The Messiah in this age is Rev. Sun Myung Moon. He was sent by God. Please never forget this point."

Then Pres. M. VB said: I prefer my messiah to be semetic and handy with lumber, but fear not -- I never said that shit, and Moon is still a wacky cult leader, buying members of congress with cold hard cash stolen from sad fools.

Can't wait for that fisking.

Sully:

OFF TO MADONNA: Blogging will be light tonight and tomorrow - I'm off to a Madonna concert in Worcester, Mass.

Sigh.

I'm so over all of this. I've written two lengthy response and deleted both of them as they seem to drag on and on and really... who cares at this point. It's not like we're changing people's minds here in the blogosphere.

If Josh wants to pretend that there's little difference between the amount of Moore's and Hitchens' "intellectual work." Fine. I appreciate his attempt at making a lively blog exchange/war. But that's all it is. I won't deny that there are similarities in the tactics of Moore and Hitchens. They're combative and in-your-face and can play fast and loose with facts and are masters of self-promotion.
But I think it's silly to pretend that Hitchens, worried about his status as an "irrelevant leftist," took his pro-war stance to... what, Josh? Make his name bigger? Get more press?

For fuck's sake it's happening again. I am droning on and on.
I'm about to end this but first--
Josh asked what't the real differnece between Moore and Hitchens. First: I would agree with Josh's assesment that Hitchens "likes facts a little more." In addition, I think Hitchens and his writing is a little more, um, nuanced than Moore's filmmaking.
I would also say this: Hitchens isn't interested in coddeling his audience and playing the shrill "we're always right and they're always to blame" like Moore does. I'd bet that Hitchens' pro-war stance earned him some conservative readers. I wonder what they thought when Hitchens' hatchet job of Reagan's legacy was the lead article on Drudge. Or what Hitchens' readers at The Nation thought when he declared himself pro-war. Is that all stunt-journalism? No conviction?

OK. I'm done. Put a fork in it. Over and out. Bleh.