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Showing posts from August, 2006

Celebrity hell

Paris Hilton Day in Las Vegas ? Kevin Federline on CSI & Entourage ? What the hell is up with these no talent clowns, famous for nothing more than being famous, getting fawned upon and adulated over? How the hell is Federline getting acting jobs (even typecast as a deadbeat celebrity husband)?!? And Paris Hilton, whose most well-received performance so far has been the One Night in Paris sex video? Obviously no one in Hollywood is making creative decisions anymore… must all be based on Performer Q ratings. Of course, that doesn't explain how the hell these hacks have such high ratings, but at least it (almost) explains how they're getting this attention.

And Speaking of S.O.A.P.

Yeah, we saw Snakes on a Plane last week. Dani dragged me nearly kicking and screaming to the theatre for this one. I think she summed it up best when she said "it was everything she expected!" Of course, she meant it in a complimentary fashion, but what I heard was "it really lives up to your expectations," which in my case was more like living down to your expectations. Let's face it, it's a dumb movie, with an annoyingly dumb concept. I mean, what the hell… let's sneak a bunch of killer snakes on a plane so that it'll crash and kill the government's only witness? Talk about high-concept (and low thought process). And the single justification for this bizarre attempt at mass murder is the throw-away "I've tried everything else" comment from the evil boss man. Yeah, right. But NO ONE's going to this thing for logical plot development (or, hell, plot itself). They're going to see Samuel L. Jackson kick some motherfucking sn

D.O.A. for the A.D.D. afflicted

I've been hearing trailers for this one all week… Crank : A hit man learns that a poison injected into his body will kill him if his heart rate drops slows a certain point. Now he must exact his revenge on the people who injected him before he takes his last breath. (I just discovered this is one of the big movies opening this weekend. Wow, talk about summer going out with a whimper.) But what really amuses me is how much this sounds like this movie (and it's various incarnations): D.O.A. 1950 version (D.O.A.) with Edmond O'Brien and Pamela Britton: Small-town accountant Frank Bigelow goes to San Francisco for a week's fun prior to settling down with fiancée Paula. After a night on the town, he wakes up with more than just a hangover; doctors tell him he's been given a "luminous toxin" with no antidote and has, at most, a week to live! Not knowing who did it or why, Bigelow embarks on a frantic odyssey to find his own murderer. 1969 version (Color Me D

Ah, flying.

I don't fly much. It's not that I've got any problems flying, it's just that I don't have much reason to fly. Most of our vacations have been driving trips (Dani loves to road trip) and I seldom have to fly for work. But Dani's mom moved to Seattle earlier this year, so I knew more flying was definitely in my future. Just my luck, then, that the first flight I take in over two years comes just a couple of weeks after the latest terror plot is revealed and airline security gets ratcheted up to "orange". I'm only going up to Seattle for the weekend to house/dog sit which, under any other circumstances would mean shove a pair of jeans, a couple of shirts and changes of underwear in a carry-on, grab a couple of books to keep me busy and I'm on my way. But, since we can't carry on anything that is, in any way/shape/form liquid, I decide "to hell with it" and pack a bag to check. Better that, I think, than to have to worry about buying

President Frat Boy

So our good old boy "Leader of the Free World", according to the " Washington Whispers " in this week's US News & World Report, loves a "good" fart joke (I parenthesize, since I dispute the notion that there's any such thing as a good fart joke). He loves to cuss, gets a jolly when a mountain biker wipes out trying to keep up with him, and now we're learning that the first frat boy loves flatulence jokes. A top insider let that slip when explaining why President Bush is paranoid around women, always worried about his behavior. But he's still a funny, earthy guy who, for example, can't get enough of fart jokes. He's also known to cut a few for laughs, especially when greeting new young aides, but forget about getting people to gas about that. I can just see it… sitting around with the Joint Chiefs, the room's a little tense, so he leans over to Cheney and whispers "Shotgun, pull my finger!" Yep, that's our Presi

Pink Taco Restaurants? Really??

Somehow I'm not surprised that the guy who's become infamous for his Lindssay Lohan "Firecrotch" comments is part of the family that owns the Pink Taco restaurant chain. "Firecrotch" Stadium? - TMZ.com Seriously, can you imagine the promos for Arizona Cardinals at Pink Taco Stadium? I'm loving it already.

NSA eavesdropping program ruled unconstitutional

Good news for those of us who think the Constitution IS actually more than an interesting historical document. NSA eavesdropping program ruled unconstitutional - Aug 17, 2006 And it's not simply "Hey, this is a bad program!" It's a 44-page memorandum that says, among other things: …the program "violates the separation of powers doctrine, the Administrative Procedures Act, the First and Fourth amendments to the United States Constitution, the FISA and Title III." AND …that "the president of the United States ... has undisputedly violated the Fourth in failing to procure judicial orders." No surprise that the "Developing Story" banner above this article says the Justice Department will appeal. Not to sound like one of those nut-job reactionaries we all mock, but when do we get to start calling it the InJustice Department? Just asking, you know.  

Great Definition

The dissenter is every human being at those moments of his life when he resigns momentarily from the herd and thinks for himself. —Archibald MacLeish, poet and librarian (1892-1982) From today's A.Word.A.Day email: haruspicy

Generationally challenged

There's an interesting bit of synchronicity in this week's movie ad campaigns. Oliver Stone's World Trade Center radio spots talk about "certain moments that define a generation." Pretty hard to argue with that claim… if there's anything in recent history that could be considered generation defining, the 9/11 attacks would certainly qualify. And, from what I've seen of the reviews, it looks like Stone's movie lives up to that "defining moment". Over on the other end of the multiplex, thematically speaking, is Step Up . The ads for this one lead off with this little gem: "Once every ten years a movie comes along that captures the voice of a generation." If I may… Tyler Gage is a rebel from the wrong side of Baltimore's tracks ­ and the only thing that stands between him and an unfulfilled life are his dreams of one day making it out of there. Nora is a privileged ballet dancer attending Baltimore's ultra-elite Maryland Schoo

And while I'm talking about commercials...

I often wish that I had Dani's ability to just tune out commercials. I'll mention which ever one is bugging me lately, and she'll just look at me like I've lost my mind, then shrug and tell me she hasn't heard it. Along with the movie spots that are making my head spin, there's the ultra-annoying Ikea "stream of consciousness" ads that are in heavy rotation lately. An apparently typical vacuous Ikea shopper gets her latest Ikea catalog and we're treated to 60 seconds of her inane stream-of-consciousness ramblings, inspired by all the wonderful things she sees in the catalog. Makes you wonder what kind of target demographic Ikea is shooting for, 'cause god knows there's no way I want to be associated with that kind of vapid mental meandering. In a way, it kind of reminds me of a recent HBO campaign. In it, zombified HBO viewers treat their friends and relatives with disdain and contempt if they dare to utter a sound while our zombie spokespe

Maybe they just didn't get the memo

I'm kind of fascinated by a couple of recent movies hitting theatres. Last week it was John Tucker Must Die ; next week it's Accepted . John Tucker's ad campaign is brazenly sexual, from the innuendo of its radio commercials to the racy movie poster. And Accepted looks to be one of those classic teen sex comedies, following gleefully in the footsteps of such "classics" as Animal House and Porky's . But both movies are rated PG-13 which, at the very least, implies minimal nudity and sexual content that falls more into the teasing than titillating range. Which puts them both at odds with those same classic comedies. So what happened to the resurgence of the R-rated comedy, as last year's Wedding Crashers and 40 Year Old Virgin were supposed to herald? Did the studios not get the memo? Did they miss their chance to inject some arbitrary and frivolous (but deeply appreciated) random nudity and scatalogical humor? Or is it just that those R-rated comedies