Three items in search of a post.

1. Slate appreciates Calvin and Hobbes. (BTW: this strip--the last one evs--still gets to me.)
   
   
2. Scarlett: who knew? (But where's Noni Horowitz?)
   
   
   
3. As The Whine Colored Sea is located in Los Angeles, we're hella connected with all the movers and shakers. OK, not so much. But we do know people who get to see movies ahead of their release, so here with the skinny on two upcoming Oscar-baiters, our man on the street, Mr. C.K. Dexter Haven:
   

   I hoped Walk the Line would rise above the small-mindedness of a film like Ray. I hoped it would have a focus. I hoped it would find one cohesive thread to drive the story from beginning to end, that it wouldn’t try to cram in every anecdote about the Man in Black that James Mangold could dredge up (and even more that he simply imagined). I hoped the actors would inhabit characters that felt real – a man named John and a woman named June – not the broad strokes of Embalmed Music Gods. Instead, I was treated to a picture that, referring to a Sun Records-era Elvis Presley, took great joy in delivering lines like, “Elvis loves poon.” Baby, baby, baby. May the wheedling for Oscars begin.
   
   And as for The Family Stone: I kinda liked it.
   
   Up next week: Gay Cowboys and singing AZT-junkies.