An offer you can't refuse ...

Friends are wonderful, wonderful things to have. They laugh with you when you're happy, they cry with you when you're sad, they slap you alongside your head when you're being a jerk, and they give you fabulous advice whether you need it or not.

My friend Beth - she of the bookmarked blog to your right - just gave me some advice that I didn't ask for, but definitely needed. It wasn't about which girl I should date or which investment I should make with my money.

It was about something really, really important.

Ice cream.

Yesterday she left a message on my voice mail declaring that I had to immediately rush to my local grocery story to purchase a pint of Ben & Jerry's new flavor, "The Gobfather." Now, it's important to know that Beth, who quite likes ice cream, almost never buys anything larger than a cone for herself because she thinks she can't be trusted with the stuff in her home. So it's a really big deal when she actually has a significant quantity of ice cream inside her freezer. Therefore, the recommendation was taken seriously.


The Gobfather, by the way, consists of chocolate ice cream with fudge-covered almonds and what may be the two best words in the English language - a "nougat swirl".

Oh, it's also important to note that I am a chocoholic. Big time. Seriously, if the time ever came when the Earth ran out of chocolate, I probably would have to put a bullet in my brain. Only I would make sure that said bullet was made of the last bits of chocolate left on the planet.

Well, actually, I would probably eat the bullet and then OD on something else. But we're getting off the topic.

I didn't rush out immediately to buy a pint of The Gobfather (self-control, you know). But I did today. I got home, opened up the container and had two spoonfuls of the mixture. And I have to say that my friend Beth is a freakin' GENIUS!! My only regret is that Marlon Brando himself didn't live to taste this - and you know he had to be an ice cream connoisseur. Just look at a picture of him.

Honestly, if you love ice cream and you love chocolate, then stop reading this blog, get thee to the market and get yourself a pint of Ben & Jerry's The Gobfather. And if you don't like ice cream or chocolate, then just stop reading.

Roger Ebert speaks ...

In addition to his movie reviews, Roger Ebert has a regular column called "The Answer Man," where he answers questions from readers on a variety of topics regarding film. Not only is it an entertaining and clever feature, but on occasion it broaches issues of great importance. Two in particular from this week's column caught my eye, and I'd thought I'd share them with you, along with my own pithy responses to Ebert's responses.

Also because I haven't posted anything in a while ...

Q. I was rooting for "Brokeback Mountain" to win the Best Picture Oscar. I thought it was a great film. I haven't seen "Crash," but I'm curious now to see it and be able to make a comparison. I wish the Academy voters had done the same. For the major categories, there is no requirement that Academy voters have seen all nominees. Or that they've even seen any of the nominees. Or that the Academy member is the person actually filling out the ballot. The process is a sham.

If one of the Olympic ice skating judges missed one of the performances but then was able to submit a score that helped determine who won the gold medal, people would be outraged. The Academy should change its rules.

Bob Bartosch, Somerville, Mass.

A. Although the Academy requires members to see all five documentaries and all five foreign films before voting in those categories, there is no such requirement in any of the other categories. Perhaps it is time for new by-laws. It was widely reported that two Academy members refused to see "Brokeback Mountain" because of its gay subject matter, and anecdotal evidence that others also refused. Of course, some members no doubt voted for the film because of its theme. Members are free to vote however they want, but I think it is reasonable to expect them to see the films first, and I am awaiting apologies from Tony Curtis and Ernest Borgnine, who shamelessly went public with their refusals.

I had not heard about Curtis and Borgnine publicly stating that they avoided "Brokeback" solely for its content, although I do vaguely remember hearing about a comment from Borgnine about how gay cowboys didn't fly in his book. (I just did a Google search and found much more evidence of both of their "opinions" of the movie; guess I've been living under a rock, or at least a very large pebble.) I don't know if it's feasible to require voters to see all the eligible movies, but if I were the president of the Academy, I would suspend the voting rights of Curtis and Borgnine for at least a year for going public with their deliberate avoidance of a film in a category or categories that they voted for anyway. It's simply not fair to the process, and it makes the Academy look bad.

Question Number Two:

Q. I must take issue with your response to Jay Leno's question about whether Hollywood is out of step with the mainstream public. Your response was, "Maybe the moviegoing public is out of step with good movies." How incredibly insulting and arrogant! Your comment illustrates an obvious belief on your part that the people involved with financing, writing, directing and acting in films -- most of whom live in the unnatural and aesthetic environments of Hollywood and other cloistered situations -- know better than I and the rest of the public what WE want and need in entertainment! Many of us are TIRED of the continual diet of political, environmental and societal issues forced upon us by today's moviemakers. The overwhelming and continual box-office success of the lighter fare vs. the others proves my point.

Donna Larson, Princeton, Minn.

A. No, I think it proves my point. These 2006 films "won" their weekends or placed second: "Hostel," "Underworld: Evolution," "Big Mamma's House 2," "When a Stranger Calls," "Madea's Family Reunion," "The Hills Have Eyes," "Ultraviolet" and "Date Movie." Only three of these, by the way, were "lighter fare," unless vivisection and evisceration make you smile. During the same weeks, these films were not embraced at the box office: "The Matador," "Cache," "The New World," "Transamerica," "The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada," "Tristram Shandy" and "Tsosti." If I prefer the films on the second list, does that make me arrogant? Moviegoers "tired of the continual diet of political, environmental and societal issues" are finding lots of films that entertain them, and those of us who prefer more challenging films have to look a little harder.

Here's some insight from Daniel R. Huron, of Texas City, Texas: "I was reading a review of 'Syriana' from Reuters but I stopped reading, not because I was offended by their opinion, but because the reviewer insisted on commenting on its box-office potential. According to the reviewer, the film was unlikely to connect with the 'under-25,' 'mainstream audience' because it is so 'dialogue heavy.' My feeling is, who cares? Shouldn't a reviewer critique the film for what it is and not for its potential to make money?"

I can't add much to Ebert's response, except this: "Gentlemen's Agreement," "Inherit the Wind," "To Kill a Mockingbird," "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," "Norma Rae," "Philadelphia," "The Best Years of Our Lives," "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," "The China Syndrome" ... and "The Defiant Ones," starring one Tony Curtis. I would bet that there were some Academy voters who did not see "The Defiant Ones" because they found the premise of its content - that blacks and whites can work together despite their differences - distasteful. Wonder if ol' Tony would have edged out David Niven for Best Actor in 1958 had that minority swallowed their pride and done their due diligence like they were supposed to.

Art lesson

Sit down, boys and girls. I'm about to teach you something about art that may be very important to you some day.

Last year, a man in California spent $40,000 on a drawing by Pablo Picasso. Considering Picasso's reputation as, oh, one of the great artists of the 20th century, this could be seen as a wise investment. Not to mention a bit of a bargain, considering some of ol' Pablo's paintings have been auctioned for more than $100 million, which isn't pocket change.

The one catch? The man purchased the Picasso drawing through Costco.

Yesterday, Pablo Picasso's daughter, who serves as an authenticator of her father's work, judged the drawing to be a fake.

The lesson behind all this, boys and girls? Buy your paper towels and your almonds and your silverware through Costco. But it may not be the best place through which to buy your fine art.

Click on the subject line to get the details from The New York Times.

Cock not-so-sure ...

Forgive the provocative headline, but you'll understand the reason if you click on it to read the attached story. But to some it up, a Chicago citizen was arrested the other day for causing a disturbance that included - wait for it - severing his own penis and hurling it at police. Obviously he was trying to make some point, but damned if I know what it was. Unless it was that he was tired of having sex like a normal person any more. (Actually, he told cops that he was upset about problems he was having with his girlfriend. Think of what kind of problems he's going to have now! )

Yanni arrested!

Oh my God! What's the world coming to?

Linda Evans wouldn't have put up with this!

Click the subject line for the sordid details.

Initial Oscar thoughts

Well, the dust has settled, the tuna cones and mini Kobe burgers are being munched on at the Governors Ball. The 78th annual Academy Awards are newly-made history, and some comments about the festivities already have come to mind.

* A lot of people already are calling Crash's best picture win one of the greatest upsets in Oscar history. I don't know if I'd go that far; many pundits had been predicting something like this for weeks now. Some will call it a repudiation of the themes of Brokeback Mountain; that's bunk as well. What it was was a surprise, whether you liked the movie or not, and God knows we don't see enough of that at the Academy Awards.

* Speaking of best picture, though, what the heck was going on the directors' booth? The show was running ahead of schedule when Jack Nicholson shocked the world (or not) by revealing the contents of the last envelope, yet it was deemed necessary to not allow Paul Haggis, who was literally the father of this labor of love, to say something to the audience about his unexpected triumph. And for what reason, prey tell? Apparently just so Penelope Cruz could sell some more of the hair coloring she so obviously doesn't use in real life. Gee, just think - if they had just eliminated one of the film montages about film noir or epics or head lice or something, they would have had time for even more Clairol commercials! It was a disgusting moment in a show that, for the most part, was quite entertaining.

* Speaking of - it may be hard out there for a pimp, but apparently it's even harder to be an Oscar host. It didn't take long for the Associated Press to pan him for playing it too safe. Of course, had he turned the broadcast into an extension of The Daily Show, he would have been slammed for that. Truth be told, I can't recall laughing more during an Oscar telecast. It wasn't all Stewart; Ben Stiller's green-screen gag was perfection, and Steve Carell and Will Ferrell's presenting of the makeup award while wearing face paint was very funny. But Stewart was the pulse of the piece, and after a slightly wobbly, I thought he pulled it off with his jokes that poked fun both at the Academy and himself. And the fake political ads were very clever and very hilarious. So the AP needs to, oh, get a sense of humor and, to paraphrase Thomas Jefferson, go blow. [UPDATE: Reuters and The New York Times were more complementary of Stewart's performance, for what it's worth.]

* Robert Altman had a heart transplant - who knew? Apparently nobody. :)

* I felt bad that Felicity Huffman didn't win best actress, but Reese Witherspoon's heartfelt speech made up for that somewhat. So is the fact that Felicity got to come to the party in the first place with her great husband and, as many discovered tonight, her great breasts! (Though not as great, maybe, as Salma Hayek's. Hello, nurse!)

* George Clooney is The Man. Or maybe The Man heir apparent, as Jack still seems have It. But Clooney is total class and proved it again tonight with a speech that probably will be used by Gil Cates in future years as an example of what to do when receiving an Oscar.

* And speaking of Cates, the Tyranny of the Speeches continued with his latest tactic, turning the Kodak Theater into the world's largest elevator by having the orchestra play Muzak underneath all of the speeches - you know, so the obnoxious swelling of the music to play them off should they be deemed long-winded wouldn't sound so obnoxious. Also note how the music stopped entirely when it became clear that Reese Witherspoon wouldn't be done in a minute. It was the wise move, of course, to let her go on, but proved my point that there is an unfair hierarchy when it comes to Oscar speeches.

* Philip Seymour Hoffman didn't bark his speech. I think he should have to give his Oscar back.

* Was anyone else afraid that Kathleen York was going to catch on fire during her best song performance? And God bless Three 6 Mafia for momentarily turning the Oscars into the Grammys, complete with the bleeping during their speech. And God bless Larry McMurty for having the stones to wear blue jeans and cowboy boots to the high-faluting Academy Awards - and for mentioning the importance of books in his remarks.

* Boy, the AP is on a roll tonight. Witness one of their headlines: "Three 6 Mafia Steals Oscar Song Award." Nice, fellas. Have fun at those diversity classes.

* What do you think Mickey Rooney did during the rap performance? My guess is that he was humming along with the rest of us.

* When Morgan Freeman flubbed his line while giving out best supporting actor, I thought, "Thank God, he is human after all."

I'm sure I'll think of more stuff later.

Oscar Buzzkill: Extreme Addition

For many of the nominees and eventual winners, the Academy Awards are a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. The chances are very good that those lucky few chosen to take to the stage of the Kodak Theater on Sunday to get one of their very own statuettes to take home and pat and call George (its name is Oscar!) will never get to this point again. Which is why the annual pleas of Gil Cates, the otherwise venerable producer of the ceremony, about keeping speeches short and to the point have grown tiresome.

Every year he works the Oscars, Gates makes it his sworn duty to implore, cajole and threaten nominees about not abusing their moment in the sun by doing things as ghastly as actually showing gratitude to the people in their lives who helped them get to that point. He always does his finger-wagging act at the annual nominees' luncheon, as if he is the stern vice principal laying down the law to a bunch of unruly kids. One year he even offered a free widescreen television for the winner with the shortest speech. He does this, he says, to keep the awards show to a manageable length. But he forgets two basic truths about the Oscars:

1) The show is long, period.

2) A better way to shorten it would be to get rid of some of the silly production numbers or, more recently, the superfluous film montage that say nothing about anything, that seem to always find their way into the ceremony.

Last year, Cates made the embarrassing call of having some of the "lesser" awards given out in the theater audience, so those winners never got to the stage, the better to cut out the few seconds it takes to reach the podium. (Longer, of course, if you're not one of the gilded few and thus don't have top-notch seats in the front rows.) This year, there apparently will be a plan to leave a few rows of middle seats aside for "rotating" groups of nominees. At commercial breaks, so the viewing public can't see, the next round of craft nominees will be moved up so they can get to the stage faster. And now comes word of a video tape, hosted by Oscar winner and Academy vice president Tom Hanks, in which handy tips are given out to prospective winners about the proper way to comport yourself if you are honored with your very own Academy Award.

An article about the tape is linked to the subject line, but here's one handy highlight: Winners have just 60 seconds from the time their name is announced to when they will, in theory, be played off the stage by the orchestra, to give their speeches. This is even worse than the previous 30- or 45-seconds winners had to finish up their remarks in the past, not counting the jaunt to the head of the theater. The ridiculous part about this, of course, is that these rules only apply to those whose names we don't know. George Clooney or Ang Lee or Reese Witherspoon or Felicity Huffman won't have to worry about having the indignity of being interrupted by the orchestra should it take them 1:01 to say what they have to say, just like Halle Berry and Julia Roberts and Steven Spielberg weren't in the past.

(By the way, I just popped my tape of the 1994 Academy Awards into the VCR and timed Tom Hanks' remarks after he won best actor for Forrest Gump, and though they definitely were heartfelt, if a little babbling - not Laurence Olivier babbling, but babbling nonetheless - they clocked in at a not-so-speedy 2:01. BUZZ - thanks for playing, Tom, but no cigar.)

The Academy Awards, for all of its artifice and glitz and pomposity, is an example of a real reality show. Most of that reality comes from the emotion displayed by those who win - the laughs, the tears and, yeah, the gratitude. But Gil Cates seems determined to squeeze all of that out of the experience in the name of speed. My advice to him, like he'll listen, to get off his high horse, grab and pillow and get comfy. No one is going to go on all night, 'cause even the winners want to get out of there as soon as possible so they can go to the Governors Ball and munch on Wolfgang Puck's spread. But if it take them a couple of minute to speak their minds, so be it. They earned it, didn't they?

Oscar predictions!

A couple of weeks ago at the Academy Awards nominees' luncheon, George Clooney, who walks into the Kodak Theater on Sunday with three chances to win film's ultimate (non-financial) prize, called these weeks before the actual ceremony "the golden time". He's right - the time between the announcement of the nominations and the moment Jon Stewart first takes the stage on Oscar night probably is the best period of the entire process, the period when all of the lucky finalists can fully bask in the glory of making it this far, before the envelopes are opened and the fun is at least partially ruined for the nominees who don't get to put a new knick-knack on their mantles. (Of course, they still get to go to all of the fancy parties that night for free food and booze - heck, at that point they may need it more than the winners.) The "golden time" is also when prognosticators 'round the world, professional or otherwise, try to prove themselves by attempting to determine who will win on March 5 - as well as, perhaps, who really deserves to win.

Every year for more than a decade, I have been one of them. Even before I became a professional entertainment writer, I have jotted down my picks on paper or e-mail and circulated them to my friends in a misguided attempt at acceptance and love. (No, not really - I just do it because it's just so much damn fun, and on occasion I get stuff right.) This is the first year I have a blog, so now I can share my predictions with the 10 or 12 of you who stop by and read my ramblings. So make way for the power of my film intellect. Not.

Best Supporting Actor
George Clooney, Syriana
Matt Dillon, Crash
Paul Giamatti, Cinderella Man
Jake Gyllenhaal, Brokeback Mountain
William Hurt, A History of Violence

The only person who may not belong in this race is Hurt, and that's only because his brief appearance at the end of Violence may have been too weird for the room. Everyone else here is well deserving of the top award. Gyllenhaal has a legitimate chance if there is a Brokeback sheep, er, sweep. Giamatti is a popular character who many people think got hosed when he wasn't nominated last year for Sideways, so the make-up Oscar definitely is a possibility. For me, though, this is a two-horse race, with Clooney maintaining the slight edge over Dillon, whose nomination qualifies him for comeback-of-the-year honors. His racist cop was chilling and nasty, no doubt. But being that it's likely that Good Night will not score in any of the other categories it was nominated for (save, perhaps, cinematography), and that Clooney made history for being the first person to be nominated for acting in one movie and directing another - and that he's pretty damn good in Syriana, complete with the physical transformation Oscar voters love to acknowledge - I think George had better make sure his tuxedo is pressed properly for his big close-up.

WINNER: George Clooney

Best Supporting Actress
Amy Adams, Junebug
Catherine Keener, Capote
Frances McDormand, North Country
Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardner
Michelle Williams, Brokeback Mountain

Another tough category, which any lover of all things movies and Oscars appreciates. And yet, the winner here seems very clear. Keener and McDormand are well-respected actors who always do yeoman work. Adams turned mucho heads with her performance, though I've known about her since she showed up as the only good thing in the so-bad-it-was-never-aired Cruel Intentions clone Manchester Prep as a very different character from the simple pregnant girl she played in Junebug. And Williams earned her nomination with one very emotional and very well-played scene as the cuckolded wife in Brokeback. But Rachel Weisz seems to have this thing sewed up. She's one of those actors who has been bubbling at the surface for some time now, doing solid work in films not always deserving of her efforts, waiting for her big creative break. This was it, and - again, short of a Brokeback sweep - she will be rewarded. Plus Weisz is very pregnant, and there is a mini-tradition of the Academy giving awards to such women (Eva Marie Saint, Catherine Zeta-Jones), maybe in the hope of some ratings spike if the winner's water breaks right then and there.

WINNER: Rachel Weisz

Best Actor
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Terrence Howard, Hustle & Flow
Heath Ledger, Brokeback Mountain
Joaquin Phoenix, Walk the Line
David Strathairn, Good Night, and Good Luck

Maybe the one absolute lock for the evening, which sucks for Terrence Howard, David Strathairn, Joaquin Phoenix and especially Heath Ledger, who is the heart and soul of Brokeback, to the extent that a friend of mine who thought the film was overrated still called Ledger's performance a revelation. Any other year, he wins, hands down. But Philip Seymour Hoffman is Truman Capote, just as Jamie Foxx was Ray Charles last year and Charlize Theron became Aileen Wuornos the year before that. It will be considered a major upset if he doesn't prevail, even though I'd have no problem with any of these guys' names being in the envelope.

WINNER: Philip Seymour Hoffman (who apparently made a pact with chums years ago that if he ever won the Oscar, he'd bark out his acceptance speech. That ought to be interesting.)

Best Actress
Judi Dench, Mrs. Henderson Presents
Felicity Huffman, Transamerica
Keira Knightley, Pride and Prejudice
Charlize Theron, North Country
Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line

It's both the good and the bad of having a really competitive Oscar race. Two performances, both top-notch, both by extremely popular and pleasant women. Whom to choose? Reese Witherspoon has been considered the favorite for her work as June Carter in Walk the Line and has won a large parcel of the major awards. But Felicity Huffman kicked ass, to be blunt, as a transgendered woman in Transamercica, a labor of love that stands in broad contrast to her Emmy-winning character on Desperate Housewives. She's also beloved in Hollywood for her talent and her über-cute marriage to William H. Macy, and has been campaigning like a demon for both herself and her small gem of the movie. But Witherspoon also is cute as a bug and did her own singing as June Carter. Eeek! Flip a coin!

WINNER: Perhaps guided more by my heart than my head, Felicity Huffman in a mild upset. But I'm really rooting for a tie, which is fudging, but they're my predictions, so there.

Best Director
George Clooney, Good Night, and Good Luck
Paul Haggis, Crash
Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Bennett Miller, Capote
Steven Spielberg, Munich

Now this is easier. All five directors proved their mettle in their respective films, dealing with difficult subject matter with skill and craftmanship while making them as entertaining as they were informative. I was especially taken by what Spielberg and Clooney did in their movies. Spielberg walked a tenuous line in directing Munich, giving equal weight to life-or-death arguments and managing to piss off everyone in the process - which, of course, means he did his job. And Clooney so deftly brought the early '50s, with its black-and-white imagery and cigarette smoke and jazz and style, to life, along with the spirits of Edward Murrow and Joseph McCarthy. But Ang Lee may be the most versatile director working today, a fact proven yet again by Brokeback Mountain, a movie that came from the same man who also did Sense and Sensibility and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and The Hulk. You can't beat talent like that with a stick - you can only reward it.

WINNER: Ang Lee

Best Original Screenplay
Paul Haggis and Robert Moresco, Crash
George Clooney and Grant Heslov, Good Night, and Good Luck
Woody Allen, Match Point
Noah Baumbach, The Squid and the Whale
Stephen Gaghen, Syriana

Not to get too wordy (get it?), but this is where Crash most likely will be rewarded for its blending of issues, emotions and, yes, humor, because there is a fair amount of humor around all of the deep, often-tragic drama. It's the kind of humor that leads more to knowing nods than laughter, but that's what makes the film, as manipulative as it can be, effective. Sidebar: It's somehow comforting to see Woody Allen, who has been nominated about a thousand times for his screenplays, back in this category after a long absence. We knew you still had it in you, Woody.

WINNER: Paul Haggis and Robert Moresco

Best Adapted Screenplay
Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Dan Futterman, Capote
Jeffrey Caine, The Constant Gardner
Josh Olson, A History of Violence
Tony Kushner and Eric Roth, Munich

Brokeback Mountain, by a mile. No other film has captured the consciousness of the culture as thoroughly as this film, both in its controversial subject matter and its capturing of the human spirit. And it's all the more remarkable because of its sparse use of dialogue. Even when there are grand speeches, they seem to consist of so little but say no much.

WINNER: Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana

Best Picture
Brokeback Mountain
Capote
Crash
Good Night, and Good Luck
Munich

It's always good to have years like this when all five nominees in this category of categories are worthy of being named Best Picture. Whenever a so-so film sneaks into the race, there's always a sense of dread that someway, somehow, it could squeak by and win the whole thing. (The English Patient, anybody?) But that won't be the case this time. Of the five films, my favorite is Good Night, a crisply told tale of the importance of the freedom of the press and of speaking up for what one thinks is right, no matter what the consequences. It's a story of the past that's very relevant today. Yet all five movies are relevant, in their own ways, to the present day. That's fine and dandy, even if the overall subject matter is so dreary that you wonder what it will take for a screwball comedy to again make it this far in the future. Right now we're hearing a lot about how the race-relations parable Crash is gaining fast on the prohibitive favorite, Brokeback Mountain. But Brokeback is, to paraphrase its tag line, such a force of nature, I don't think it will be derailed in time for Oscar night. Gay cowboys, er, shepherds, rule!

WINNER: Brokeback Mountain

Some other predictions: Wallace and Gromit will win Best Animated Feature, Good Night, and Good Luck will win for cinematography, Crash will win for editing, Brokeback Mountain for original score. Don't ask me what will win for best song, 'cause they're all haunting in their own ways and that category can be the trickiest of them all. Oh - and I'm going out on a limb here - Robert Altman will win an Oscar time time around.

And Jon Stewart will bring the house down. And never host the Oscars again.

A meaty sports transaction!

From ESPN.com:

"BUCHAREST -- Romanian second division soccer club UT Arad sold a player in exchange for 15 kilograms of meat, local sport daily Pro Sport reported on Monday.

However, fourth division Regal Horia made a bad deal because defender Marius Cioara decided to end his footballing career and take off to Spain to find a job in agriculture or construction.

"We are upset because we lost twice -- firstly because we lost a good player and secondly because we lost our team's food for a whole week," a Regal Horia official was quoted as saying by the daily in its electronic edition."

Probably a good move, 'cause when your team ships you off for a hunk of beef, it may be an indication that it's time to hang up the cleats. Unless it's a hunk of Kobe beef, which is pretty tasty stuff from what I hear. Angus beef, not so much. Always tasted like high-school cafeteria mystery meat to me.

ZZZZZZZZ … I'm awake, I'm awake

Anyone else having the strange phenomenon of become very, very sleepy sometime between 3 p.m. and 5 p.m. every day, no matter how well you slept the previous night, and then being very alert in the evening and night?

Anybody?

OK, it's just me.

Understated news lede of the week

From our mellow friends at the Associated Press:

"FORT LEWIS, Wash. - Army officials have recommended a court-martial for a Purple Heart recipient accused of stabbing his young wife 71 times with knives and a meat cleaver."

Uh, OK, if you really think a court-martial is the right way to go ....

Click on the subject line for the whole wicked story, but be warned - it's pretty gross.

The best day of the year ...

... is today. 'Cause today is the day that spring training begins, that pitchers and catchers start reporting to their various warm-weather camps in Florida and Arizona. Today, every Major League Baseball team is the same, starting at 0-0, with an equal chance of ending up in the World Series in October. Sigh ...

Well, actually, that's all bunk, as any loyal fan of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and Detroit Tigers and, yes, Chicago Cubs will tell you. But one can dream, can't they?

Can't they?

King of the Dogs!

Behold the most perfect dog in the world, at least in the eyes of the Westminster Kennel Club. Rufus the colored bull terrier beat out more than 2,600 other canine to take the "best in show" prize this evening. His prize? A free steak from Sardi's and probably all of the doggie sex he can handle, since he will be popular as a breeder when the time comes. A dog's life for me, even with a head that looks like that.

P.S. "Colored" bull terrier? Were they originally called Negro bull terriers?

Wacky Olympic ho-hah

Actually, it's a lot of nothing, but I found it, well, incongruous that while Tonya Harding is getting a makeover (!) on Entertainment Tonight, Nancy Kerrigan is doing special Olympic coverage for ET's sister show, The Insider. Maybe this arrangement works because the two of them are on separate continents at the same time.

By the way, in terms of Tonya's makeover ... er, no.

A real education ...

The issue of whether public school students should be forced to wear uniforms has always been a perplexing one to me. Part of that may be because I had to wear a uniform for four years when I was attending a Catholic grade school and thus can see both sides of the story. On the one hand, uniforms are an economical way to protect kids from the elements without the peer pressure of having to wear the hottest and coolest and most expensive thing in order to keep up with the "hip" crowd. On the other hand, it's during their school days where the personalities of children are formed, and having to wear the same thing day after day is not exactly conducive to individuality.

I bring all of this us as an ass-backwards way to back into the main topic of this post, which has something to do with how clothes can sometimes backfire on students, but much more with why some people should not be charged with teacher our young people anything. A few weeks ago in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, an unfortunately titled town outside of Pittsburgh, a high school junior named Joshua Vannoy ran into a buzzsaw - namely, a "teacher" named John Kelly. From the AP:

Sunday, January 29, 2006

BEAVER FALLS, Pa. -- A 17-year-old high school student said he was humiliated when a teacher made him sit on the floor for wearing a Denver Broncos jersey.

The teacher, John Kelly, forced Joshua Vannoy to sit on the floor and take an exam in an ethnicity class two days before the Pittsburgh Steelers beat the Broncos 34-17 in the AFC championship game. Kelly also made other students throw crumpled up paper at Vannoy, whom he called a "stinking Denver fan," Vannoy told The Associated Press.

Kelly said Vannoy, a junior at Beaver Area Senior High School, just didn't get the joke.

"If he felt uncomfortable, then that's a lesson; that's what [the class] is designed to do," Kelly told The Denver Post. "It was silly fun. I can't believe he was upset."

Vannoy was wearing a No. 7 Broncos jersey on Friday, because he is a fan of John Elway, the Broncos' retired Hall of Fame quarterback.

Vannoy said he was so unnerved he left at least 20 questions blank on the 60-question test, and just wants out of Kelly's class because he's afraid the teacher won't treat him fairly now that the story reached the media.

Cool, right? But, wait, it gets better. Kelly, who said that the class he teaches is about diversity and the sometimes isolation circumstances of such, was not punished or even admonished for the incident by his principal or the school board. (The district said that Kelly had suffered enough from the publicity.) Vannoy, meanwhile, says that he received phone threats against his person from other students, missed a week of school because of such, and now has transferred out of the entire school district to an unnamed school where he may be able to start anew. (But, hey, Vannoy did get a free heat-massage chair designed by John Elway himself for his trouble, so I guess it's all good, right?)

I'm sorry, I thought the point of high school was for the kids to get an education, not to be chased from the institution because of prejudice. And while being shunned wearing the "wrong" football jersey may not compare with the shunning of pregnant girls or gay students or such, it is still just as stupid. John Kelly - apparently one of the most popular teachers at his school - should have been fired or suspended on the spot the moment this story broke, and because he wasn't, the people above him should be evaluated for their qualifications to hold on to their posts. This entire thing is ridiculous.

Note: I guess Vannoy should be thankful that the Broncos lost to Pittsburgh. Who knows what would have happened to him otherwise?

A Hare-y proposition!

There have been some wacky trades in the annals of sports history. Players have been swapped for equipment, managers and coaches have exchanged jobs - and, yeah, there have been occasions when the a guy has been traded for a "player to be named later," only for said unnamed player to end up being the same guy. (We won't even go into Lou Brock-for-Ernie Broglio, the very mention of which sends waves of nausea into any good Cub fan's stomach.) So what went down today between two sports networks wasn't that unusual. For NBC Sports and ABC/ESPN did some wheelin'-and-dealin' today.

NBC Sports got sportscaster Al Michaels to headline their upcoming Sunday Night Football NFL franchise alongside John Madden, with whom Michaels worked on ABC's "Monday Night Football," which is moving to ESPN after 35 years.

In exchange, ABC/ESPN got the rights to extended highlights from such NBC Sports properties as the Olympics, the Kentucky Derby and the Ryder Cup, the chance to promote ESPN's version of "MNF" on NBC's NFL broadcasts, and ...

... a rabbit.

But not just any rabbit - Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, best known as Walt Disney's precursor to Mickey Mouse. Disney had created the happy hare while he was with Universal back in the 1920s, but left the studio and the bunny behind over a contract dispute and went on to establish his own shingle and cast of animated characters. Nearly 80 years later, mergers had created the perfect scenario for Disney Studios, now the owner of ABC and ESPN, to regain ownership of a part of its founder's heritage from what is now known as NBC Universal.

A look at Oswald (he's the one on the right, by the way) reveals the natural "family" resemblance and makes it understandable while Disney would give up an actual living human being to get him back. But this isn't just a nostalgia-based transaction. 'Cause this is the 21st century, brother, where everyone and everything has to earn its keep. Turns out Oswald is being lined up for a three-episode gig on "Desperate Housewives" as Gabrielle's new boy toy. Can't wait for May sweeps!

'Curious' timing

Many of you may be aware that a big-screen version of the "Curious George" series of children's books is due to be released on Friday, with Will Ferrell and Drew Barrymore among the stars suppling voices for the animated feature. You may not be aware of what has gone regarding one of the men who was pivotal in establishing the popularity of the precocious monkey and his exploits:

BOYNTON BEACH, Fla. - Alan Shalleck, who collaborated with the co-creator of 'Curious George' to bring the mischievous monkey to television and a series of book sequels, was found dead outside his home, and police were treating the death as a possible homicide.

The bloodied body of Shalleck, 76, was found Tuesday covered in garbage bags in the driveway of his mobile home. Police said it was there for at least a day before a maintenance man discovered it.

They say out here in Hollywood that there's no such thing as bad P.R. I'm not sure Mr. Shalleck would concur with that. If he could concur with anything at this moment, that is.

WHY?

For the love of God, why?

The ’hog says ...

Well, officially Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow this morning, meaning that there's going to be six more chilly weeks of winter. (Keep in mind, of course, that it's been hovering around 50 degrees for most of the winter in the Punxsutawney area.)

In reality, I'm always thinking that Phil is really saying, "Who the f--- keep waking me up every February? Can a brother hibernate in peace?"

He also may be ticked that the ceremony this year became a de facto Pittsburgh Steelers Super Bowl rally. I mean, what if Phil's a Seahawks fan? Anyone ever consider that?

It's tough to be a groundhog these days ...

From "Full House" to crystal meth? Egad!

And no, we're not talking about one of the Olson twins. But you're close. I had heard rumors about this, but I guess it's true, 'cause Jodie Sweetin, who played irritating middle child Stephanie on the irritating sitcom "Full House," is indeed a recovering meth addict. She spoke about it on this morning's "Good Morning, America" (click on the subject line above for the complete story). Now, there's plenty of room here to be cynical and crass and rude (which was, you will remember, Stephanie's tag line - "How rude!"). But all I will add is that she's lucky she got out of it before it totally ruined her looks, as longtime meth users make crack addicts look like Miss American candidates. Oh, and all of this puts Dave Coulier being on "Skating with Celebrities" into perspective.

WOW

Click on the subject line to go to a story about a piece of reality that had to be expected, but maybe with a bit more fanfare. The skinny is that, after 145 years of tradition and overuse of the word "STOP", Western Union has ceased its telegram service. Of course, in a world of unlimited long-distance calling and e-mails and BlackBerrys (well, for now, at least), the need to run to the local WU office to send a quick note about how the new baby was doing or a request to home for some cash was a bit unnecessary. But wouldn't you have expected some sort of hoopla - a cash prize for the last person to buy a telegram, or something?

This coming from a man who has never used a telegram in his life, of course.

Coretta Scott King, 1927-2006

Behind every great man, there is a great woman. And how.

Rest in peace, Mrs. King. And be sure to tell your husband that we appreciate everything he did - and everything you both continue to do.

My Oscar nomination predictions! (Or, how wrong will I be this year?)

Yes, I'm back after a month full of work and unrelated distractions. And what better way for me to begin again with what my friends have come to know as my annual frequently wrong predictions for the Academy Awards nominations. It's this time of year that I become, temporarily, an honorary gay man when it comes to my obsession over the flood of award shows that infests the popular culture. And the Oscars, for all their high-mindedness and arrogance, are the granddaddy of them all. So I've been doing this for a while now - sometimes in actual print for pay, but always for my posse of close buds. Now that I have a blog, I'd thought I'd share.

There are many ways to do this, and I've done most of them. Often I will list my picks in terms of locks, likely-to-be-nominated, and darkhorses - the best way to hedge my bets (i.e. cheat without cheating). This year, I'm feeling frisky, even though for the second year in a row this is a case of knowing who's likely to win the whole thing but not necessarily the challengers who will lose to the winners come Oscar night. Nevertheless, they're only predictions. It's not like I'm putting money on this stuff or anything. Thus, my ideas for the major categories. Tune in to E! or your local morning news tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. et/5:30 a.m. pt (!) to see how wrong I really was.

BEST PICTURE
Brokeback Mountain
Crash
Good Night, and Good Luck
Munich
Walk the Line

BEST ACTOR
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Terrence Howard, Hustle and Flow (I just have a feeling about this one. Even though the genres are completely different, this has Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean written all over it.)
Heath Ledger, Brokeback Mountain
Joaquin Phoenix, Walk the Line
David Strathairn, Good Night, and Good Luck

BEST ACTRESS
Joan Allen, The Upside of Anger (This may be more wishful thinking than anything. I'm perfectly prepared for this one to go to Keira Knightly or Charlize Theron instead. See, I'm hedging again!)
Dame Judi Dench, Mrs. Henderson Presents
Felicity Huffman, Transamerica (!!!!)
Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Ziyi Zhang, Memoirs of a Geisha (There a touch of make-up about this one, as in "We should have nominated you for Crouching Tiger - sorry!")

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
George Clooney, Syriana
Matt Dillion, Crash (Either him or Don Cheadle - or maybe both)
Paul Giamatti, Cinderella Man (See Ziyi Zhang above, i.e. Sideways)
Jake Gyllenhaal, Brokeback Mountain
Bob Hoskins, Mrs. Henderson Presents

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Amy Adams, Junebug
Maria Bello, A History of Violence
Scarlett Johanssen, Match Point
Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardner
Michelle Williams, Brokeback Mountain

BEST DIRECTOR
Woody Allen, Match Point (More of a celebration that Woody can still make movies than anything else)
George Clooney, Good Night, and Good Luck
David Cronenberg, A History of Violence (Again, wishful thinking)
Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Steven Spielberg, Munich

Update on Mozart's skull - or is it?

Well, it wasn't quite the debacle of Al Capone's vault, but ... well, click on the subject line to fine out.

And meanwhile, the corpse of Salieri still has an complex.

American Hero ...

There are those who complain that the term "hero" is overused and thus has lost some of its meaning. In fact, we don't use the word nearly enough. Part of that it because you can never have too many heroes these days, but another part is that many who do heroic things in this culture go unnoticed. Of course there are heroes putting their lives on the line in Iraq and such right now. There were heroes on 9/11, heroes currently working on our local police and fire departments. You would hope that every mother and father would be a hero to their kids, and a few still are, I guess. And then there are heroes like Hugh Thompson, who do the right thing and pay the wrong kind of price for it.

Hugh Thompson died yesterday at the age of 62. Sad to say, I didn't know who he was until the obits started rolling on Friday. Click on the subject line above to learn about another side of heroism.

Just call him Scarface ...

The National Enquirer is reporting that Gwyneth Paltrow and her husband Coldplay frontman Chris Martin, already have named the male child currently subletting Paltrow's womb. This is a story of some note considering the colorful record the couple has when it comes to bestowing names onto their offspring, as big sister Apple can (and will) attest to. So what will the world be calling the upcoming tot? Capone. Apparently this was Martin's idea, so I guess the name could have been Clocks or X&Y or something like that. But do you ever wonder what names these two give their pets?

Bring me the head of Amadeus Mozart!

Yep, scientists are trumpeting that they may discovered ol' Wolfgang's dome, and will reveal the DNA results during, naturally, a documentary/reality TV show that will air in Austria this coming weekend. Word is that Owen Wilson is in preliminary negotiations to play the skull in an upcoming movie.

Click on the subject line to read the complete article.

Awwwww!!!!

It's a new year, a new day for all involved with this shiny blue marble of a planet, and the folks at The New York Times are going for that feeling of renewal and restart by washing out our smelly mouths with a story about - cuteness? Yeah, click on the subject line to be whisked to a land of fluffy pandas and precocious penguins - and scientists determined to figure out what makes one thing cute and another thing not. Now, I love cute. Just yesterday I saw a squirrel and a rainbow at the same time, and you can't get much cuter than that. But I would hope scientists would be dealing with stuff like, well, cancer and AIDS and famine and the like instead of the obvious, like why fuzzy is wuzzy.

Penguins are cool, though.

Hey, look at that ...

... it's 2006.

A new year. A new chance.

Let's not screw this one up, shall we?

Rainy day ...

It's the last day of 2005, and it's raining in Los Angeles. If not cats-and-dogs, it's definitely a puppies-and-kittens type of rain, and the forecast is that it will span the gap between years, ending sometime on the second day of 2006. Which means that the hallowed Rose Parade is likely to get a bit soggy for the first time in a long while. But water is supposed to be good for roses, right?

In a way, it's nice that it's raining here today, even if the vast majority of Los Angelenos are either shaking their fists at the sky in fury that their plans to hit the beach have been foiled - or, more likely, are wondering in terror where the bright yellow light they've grown so accustomed to has gone. But for me, it's kind of symbolic of the washing away of the residue of a year that was pretty rough on a lot of people. Or maybe just Mother Nature's last raspberry toward the human renters of her planet, another reminder of who's really in charge - as if we needed one after all of the hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis and Nick-and-Jessica stories that invested the Earth for the past 12-plus months. Either way, the rain kind of justifies my time-honored decision not to venture out into the drunken pathways that mark the New Year's Eve festivities. I'll be sipping my non-alcoholic sparkling cider, on my balcony, bidding 2005 a proper adieu.

Happy New Year, suckers!

Christmas with a twist

I have very talented friends and family. My brother is an artist. Many of my chums are writers, which makes sense considering I am as well. And my dear friend Rachael, my first college buddy, is not only an excellent singer, but a budding filmmaker as well, thanks to her boyfriend Brendon. The two of them just sent me a Christmas-themed short that Brendon directed and Rachael contributed to, and I thought I would share it with my audience, all four of you.

Click on the subject line to get a smile to put on your face.

Baseball, gentleman! Baseball!!

Since I launched this blog several months ago, I purposely have steered clear of political matters, mainly because I have observed that in these days of division and polarization, little often is accomplished by airing one's political opinions on such a public forum, other than preaching to the choir and/or bruising fragile egos. This self-imposed embargo, however, does have room for exceptions, and this entry is one of them.

I go into this potentially sensitive area because the issue at hand deals not just with politics, but also one of my big loves, baseball. Some of you may be aware that Major League Baseball, in its continuing mission to garner positive public opinion from the masses, as well as promoting the world's greatest sport to the world itself and acknowledging the growing international presence in the U.S. leagues, will stage the inaugural World Baseball Classic this coming spring. Sixteen nations are scheduled to be represented, including Canada, Japan, Italy, the Netherlands, and a myriad of squads from Latin America, where baseball has never been more popular. One of the countries in the region that has been invited to take part in baseball's equivalent of the World Cup is Cuba - a natural choice, considering the powerhouse Cuban teams that have been sent to the Olympics and other international tournaments. The prospect of a U.S.-Cuban matchup at some point during the WBC surely had baseball fans salivating at seeing Cuba's best players take on the likes of Barry Bonds, Derek Jeter and Roger Clemens.

Well, those fans had better towel off, because as of now Cuba is out of the tournament. This is the decree of our friends in the U.S. government - specifically, the Treasury Department, and even more specifically, the Office of Foreign Assets Control, which has denied the Cuban team a permit to play in the WBC, citing the embargo status the U.S. has against Cuba's Communist government.

This is crap. The whole idea of international athletics is to keep the politics at home in the name of sports, competition, and peace and harmony. And while the previous statements turns out to be bunk more often than not, that doesn't mean it's time to stop living up to it. It's extremely disappointing that the U.S. government, which currently is run by a self-described baseball fanatic, has seen fit to put the kibosh on what was designed to be a glowing example of how a game can bring people and nations together. Major League Baseball and the players' union already have pledged to try to get a reversal of this decision, and I expect politicians on both sides of the Cuba issue to have their two cents' worth before all is over, but considering the stubborn streak in the current administration, all that huffing and puffing may not be enough to convince the powers that be to chance their minds. If that doesn't happen, maybe the organizers of the WBC should consider playing the games based in the U.S. - and the potential millions of revenue the tournament may earn - to a more hospitable location. I hear Havana's lovely in the springtime.

Click on the subject line for an article about the situation - that is, if you haven't stopped reading out of patriotic disgust or something.

Speaking of commercials ...

Here is an example of a commercial gone terrible, terribly wrong. It's another ad from our friends of Carl's Jr., best known for heart-attack-inducing cheeseburgers and a commercial in which Paris Hilton all but had sex with one of the oversized sandwiches. Their newest TV spot endorses what they say are sensational, great-tasting milkshakes. But I'll never know, 'cause after seeing this on the tube the other day, I will never be able to consume a Carl's Jr. shake without possible barfing it back up with this thing going through my head.

Besides, Hersheys Creamy Chocolate Milkshakes, availble in your grocer's dairy section, are cheaper and fantastic, and don't use pseudo cow sex as part of their marketing campaign.

Click on the subject line for the icky sights, if you dare. Moo.

More "fun" with freaky commercials

Click on the subject line for another example of weird-ass marketing. You'll never listen to Lionel Richie the same way again.

That mutha was crazy!

"I think he's the most influential comedian of the half century."
- Bob Newhart on Richard Pryor

Rest in peace, Richard. And thanks for the laughs.

In the year 2005 ... fresh pepper for everyone!

Remember that creepy song, "In the Year 2525?" No? Well, why don't you?

"In the Year 2525" was a little tune from the summer of 1969, when the Cubs were hot, the moon was a travel destination and Charles Manson had abandoned his musical career for something more hands on. The song, which hit #1, was basically how man was slowly going to grow obsolete as technology, which was supposed to make things easier for us, did just that, with ominous effects on our lazy asses. Of course, it was just a song, right?

Well, yeah. And yet ... what do I see on "The Ellen DeGeneres Show" this afternoon but a sign that, in fact, we are running out of things to do with ourselves. Because Ellen is doing her annual Christmas thing of giving her audiences cool and snazzy gifts to give to their loved ones, or just keep themselves. On this day she presented a bunch of stuff courtesy of your friends at the fancy cookery company Sur la Table. And one of those items was ... wait for it ... the electric pepper mill.


That's right! No more of the fun twisting and turning required to coat your delicious salad with the bright taste of fresh ground pepper! Now you're just one button away from peppery goodness!

Personally, I think it looks like a glistening, cutting-edge sex toy, but that may say more about me than anything else.

Oh, by the way, Ellen is setting herself up to be the heir apparent should Oprah ever throw her hands up and decide that we as a people just aren't worth it. In fact, they're almost twins, except that Oprah isn't white or gay or a sneaker aficionado. I say that because they're both nice people, they both give away lots of loot to the less fortunate, and they both have audiences that go absolutely apes*** whenever they get free stuff for just being there. Honestly, there were times this week that I feared for Ellen's life, with the way her fans were whooping it up. Shades of "Day of the Locust" went through my mind.

P.S. Still don't believe me about the pepper mill? Click on the subject line for the cold hard truth.

Coke heads

In case you have forgotten - and why would you have, never mind Iraq, political scandal, the BCS and Jennifer Aniston topless - the Cola Wars continue to rage on in the supermarkets, restaurants and schoolyards of the world. We were reminded of this today with word that Coca-Cola is changing advertising slogans as part of their eternal struggle with Pepsi for the blood-sugar levels of our young:

Coke to retire 'Real' with new tagline in 2006 - Dec. 8, 2005: "Coca Cola, threatened with becoming second in market value to archrival PepsiCo for the first time, will debut an aggressive marketing push next year that begins with a new global slogan -- 'Welcome to the Coke side of life' -- to replace its current 'Real' tagline."

Yep, the "Coke side of life." Eric Idle should sue, along with the drug dealers of America. Also, this proves that the marketing team at Coke Central could use a dose of creativity. I mean, get "real," already.

In other news, Coke is preparing to market a new beverage targeed for older consumers, a cola-coffee combo entitled "Blak." The name tested better than the original choice, "Crude Oil."

Imagine ..

... a world where this man wasn't senselessly murdered 25 years ago today.



You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

And the Jon-Erik Hexum Memorial Marksmanship Award goes to ...

Pen Gun Accident Kills Budding Rapper - Yahoo! News

This is a sad story, of course. But, honestly, what was this guy thinking? Or not thinking, as it were?

What do those bumps mean?

Clicking on the subject line above will hurl you through cyberspace to one of the more unusual sights on the pop culture horizon, even though it actually isn't. Yes, Virginia, they do publish Playboy in Braille.

Now, the first question that may come to mind upon hearing such a fact is, "Why?"

Why, indeed. It seem absurd in the face of it. "Uh, isn't Playboy famous for its pictures of nude women?" And you would be right. But there are words in there as well. And if nothing else, look at this as proof that some people do read Playboy for the articles.

Besides, Playboy in Braille has been a staple of the visually-impared market for 35 years - and, yeah, it is indeed published by the Library of Congress, part of a publishing program for the blind that includes Rolling Stone, Seventeen, Ladies' Home Journal, Popular Mechanics and Martha Stewart Living. And those without sight have the best of both words - they can appreciate Playboy's fine journalism, and they've never seen La Toya Jackson naked. (Not to mention what the Chicago Bulls were wearing last night!)

The Sting of Progress

Click on the headline above to go to an article about how-bomb sniffing dogs may soon be replaced by - wait for it - trained, non-stinging wasps. The rationale is that the wasps are more easily trained than our four-legged friends, at a savings of lots of time and loads of money. The article itself isn't funny, but one must feel bad about the impending loss of employment by the brave and loyal canines that have kept us safe through the years. But fear not for them - word is that dogs may be replacing airline pilots. After all, they have no union and will work just for kibble. All they have to do is keep the mutts from sticking their heads out of the windows of the cockpits.

What the ... ?

These are the medals for the Winter Olypics in Turin next February? Have the Italians been drinking too much chianti? Or will the entire Games be played on a bitchin' Windows XP setup?

There's a hole! In the medals! Egad!

Oh, crap!

So, you remember Nick and Jessica, those great kids who just couldn't make it work? Well, get this - according to the crack staff at Entertainment Weekly, Ms. Simpson and Mr. Lachey didn't have a prenuptial agreement. Which, in Hollywood langugage, means bloodbath. Now, it's possible that the ex-Newlyweds will comport themselves with maturity if and when this thing heads into divorce court, that the dirt won't fly in the quest for the inexplicable millions the two have earned over the past few years. But that wouldn't be fun, right?

Boy, I hope Nick and Jessica aren't reading this. I sound catty.

Glad Gregory Peck Isn't Alive to See This ...

So get this - apparently somebody has and stolen Gregory Peck's star right out of the Hollywood Walk of Fame. This isn't the first time that a star's star has gone missing. In fact, it's the fourth. But in the other three cases, the markers honoring Jimmy Stewart, Kirk Douglas and Gene Autry had been temporarily removed during construction when they went poof. Here, someone seems to have taken a cement saw and ripped Greg's honor right out of the sidewalk. (Methinks someone may be have seen "Amazing Grace and Chuck" about five too many times here.)

The amazing thing is that no one seems to know exactly when the crime took place. The best the police can come up with is that the star was stolen between Nov. 17 and Nov. 22. Now, I don't know how many of you have been to Hollywood Boulevard, but it's hardly what's known as a quiet, unpopulated nook. It's filled with a myriad of tourist, kooks and, er, working ladies pretty much 24/7. And as crazy as a lot of them may be, surely somone would have noticed someone performing surgery on the pavement.

Well, here's hoping that the culprit is nabbed and that Peck's star is soon back where it belongs. And as for the thief - well, he may need an attorney as good as Atticus Finch to get out of this one.

What movie am I?

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Courtesy of my pal Beth. Go to her site (bookmarked below) to see which film she is.

Helping the kids out ... but ...

There is a plan afoot to supply the world's schoolkids, particularly those of limited means, with cheap laptop computers that will assist them in the classroom and the library. The models will cost less than $100 and have open-source operating software, along with wireless Internet access and a hand crank to generate electricity - and because kids love to twist and pull things, which is a completely different issue.

All well and good. But there was one line in the AP story about the comptuers that caught my cynical little eye:

"The devices will be lime green in color, with a yellow hand crank, to make them appealing to children and to fend off potential thieves -- people would know by the color that the laptop is meant for a kid."

Yeah, 'cause thieves have ethics. Isn't it about time for those annual stories about some yahoo cleaning out a cache of Christmas toys intended for a sad group of orphans withi no arms or something? Then again, every time one of those stories makes the news, the public responds with even better toys for the unfortunate tots. Which have made me wonder how many of thoe burglaries are inside jobs. Such thoughts may be why I may not be going straight to heaven.

If they said that thieves would be less likely to steal the computers because they were butt-ugly - now that reason, I may buy.

Denier (and dumbass?)

BBC NEWS | Europe | Austria holds 'Holocaust denier': "UK revisionist historian David Irving has been arrested in Austria under laws against denying the Holocaust.

Mr Irving was detained after a routine check on a motorway last Friday by police acting on a 1989 arrest warrant issued by a Vienna court, police said.

He told a libel hearing in London in 2000 that the Nazi gas chambers had never existed - that they were 'completely fictitious'.

He lost the case and the judge branded him 'an active Holocaust denier'.

Mr Irving was arrested in the southern province of Styria.

The historian was apparently on his way to address a students' club in Vienna when he was stopped."

OK, first thing's first - if it's well known that denying the Holocaust is a crime in Austria, and you're one of the world's most notorious Holocaust deniers, you think it's a good idea to go to Austria for a publicized visit? I know there's such a thing as making a point, but geez ...

Actually, I'm kind of torn about this story. Part of me is distressed that a person can be arrested merely for the words that he says. I'm one of those crazy black people who think that the Klan should be allowed to march anywhere they want - 'cause the more people who realize how nuts they are, the better. And there are reasons for somone to deny the Holocaust actually happened. Like they didn't witness the events directly. Or don't have any relatives who died during it. Or are complete and utter morons with cat poop for brains.

Caught red-handed - and red-nosed

Click on the title of this posting to read the culmination of the story of the escaped Texas death-row inmate and how he was caught - blotto in front of a liquor store in Shreveport, Louisiana. Now, I'm opposed to the death penalty for several reasons, moral and logical - but, if you're going to go through the efort of escaping from Death Row - particularly Texas Death Row - ye cats, do something with it. Don't just get pie-faced in a parking lot. Idiot.

This is only a test

My friend Beth is having trouble posting to her blog (which is bookmarked below), so she asked me to try to post something to mine to see if this is a system-wide problem or just her. ;)

So here I go.

The thing is, I have nothing to say at this particular moment, an occupational hazard of having jost awakened on a beautiful Saturday morning. So I'm going to make something up. Please don't read anything into the following statement. I don't need the letter(s).

Here I go:

Bunnies are evil!

Again, please disregard the above declaration. I'm sure the vast majority of bunnies are soft, cuddly and law-abiding citizens of the animal-American community. In fact, I had a cousin who was married to a bunny, and it went fine until the bunny died of an overdose of carrots and rum.

Too much information? Sorry.

Understatement

I think we all appreciate the efforts pharmaceutical companies make to warn us, during their spiffy commercials, of all the different ways their wonder drugs could kill or maim us. OK, maybe we just make fun of the way the drug companies warn us about how that medicine that will lower our cholesterol may cause our livers to explode - or how the new stuff that seals up leaky bladders could cause our livers to explode. (Come to think of it, how come all of the drugs could affect livers adversely? I take that seriously.)

Nevertheless, occasionally one of these commercials crosses a line, so to speak. I take you to a spot I saw tonight on Advair, an asthma drug that has been out for some time, though this is the first time I noticed this little chestnut:

"... Rare, but serious asthma-related fatalities occurred in a study with Serevent, one of the components of Advair ..."

Gee, that sounds pretty nasty compared to those NON-SERIOUS asthma-related fatalities. :)

And now for something completely different!

Porn versions of popular TV shows!

"Fill-more Girls"
"CSXXX: Crime Scene Fornication"
"The Wet Wing"
"Lust"
"The Sopornos" (wait, I think that's already been used by an actual movie"
"Desperately Horny Housewives"
"69th Heaven"
"Everybody F***s Raymond"
"Holding Hands in the City" (reverse psychology)
"Boned"
"The Orifice"
"Stacked" (oh, that's the name of an actual sitcom starring Pamela Anderson)

Midnight on the North Side

This is not a good day for true Cubs fans everywhere, for the dreaded moment is upon us: The Chicago White Sox have won the World Series - and, far worse, they snapped their WS drought before the Cubs did. This is bad news for Cubs devotees such as myself, not so much that the Sox won their first world championship in 88 years. Truth be told, the White Sox earned this title on the field by narrowly avoiding one of the biggest regular-season collapses in major-league history, seeing their division lead dissolved from 15 games to just one-and-a-half in late September before going on one devil of a late season tear that ended with the team winning 11 out of their 12 playoff games. It was extraordinary to watch. No, what I truly dread are the White Sox fans, whom I fear won't be able to enjoy their team's first title in 88 years. Because, even now, the other Chicago team is in their heads, and many of them will take this opportunity to drag the Cubs and their loyal fans through the mud.

But if the Sox triumph compels (forces?) Cubs management to actually assert themselves and try even harder to bring a winner to the North Side, so be it. And as more than one of my friends has pointed out, there's a trend working here. Last year the Red Sox broke their streak of futility in dramatic fashion. This year, it was the White Sox. Only the Cubs and their 98-year absence from the top of the baseball mountain remain. And, hey, it's got to happen sometime.

Right?

Before we put this season in mothballs, a couple of other words about the World Series just past:

* I understand the resistance, in the wake of one of the more poorly officiated playoffs in baseball history, to instant replay, with fears that having that method of judging questionable calls could slow up games even more. But at least, can MLB go back to the old ways of determining umpiring crews for the playoffs and WS, when umps had to earn those jobs through merit rather than a mere rotational system? Because it got pretty embarrassing how many calls these guys were missing, and not just in the Sox' favor.

* If I were the owner of the Houston Astros, I would fire Phil Garner tomorrow. The Astros' manager was totally out of line in the way that he threw his team under the bus last night after Houston lost Game 3 in 14 innings. By slamming his squad publicly to the press instead of doing it to his players' faces behind closed doors - or, even better, holding his tongue altogether - he may have snuffed out the last wisp of hope the Astros had for a miracle. Sure, the team didn't perform in the Series the way they could or should have, but considering where it had come from - being 15 games below .500 and all but dead in mid-May to the National League championship - they didn't deserve to be called out like that to the world. Big-league managers can't lose their cool at such an important time. Besides, Garner should look in the mirror if he wants to assign blame as to why the Astros got swept by the Pale Hose. It wasn't entirely his fault, and the White Sox themselves were an overwhelming force - but, as Harry Truman said, the buck stops here.

Weird coincidence regarding Rosa Parks' death

Last night I mentioned that I regarded Rosa Parks and Jackie Robinson as the origins of the modern civil rights movement. Well, get this: Rosa Parks died on Oct. 24, 2005 ... Jackie Robinson passed away on Oct. 24, 1972, exactly 33 years earlier. That has to mean something. Right?

Rest well, dear Rosa, rest well ...

I returned from a film screening this evening to the news that Rosa Parks passed away tonight. Over the next few days many will speak with endearment and admiration of this simple seamstress who refused to give up her bus seat to a white man almost 50 years ago because she was tired after a hard day of work - and because she had had enough of the inequality she faced daily as an African-American living in the segregated South. Those people will talk about Parks in terms more eloquent that I ever could, whether it's because they knew her personally or because they remembered the time when Jim Crow ruled the land. I didn't know Rosa Parks, and I was born in a time when blacks had more opportunities, and have lived long enough to see my people (I usually hate that term, but it seems appropriate in this case) achieve even more. But I can say this:

Rosa Parks, along with Jackie Robinson, was The Origin, the spark that started the whole thing. The reason why Oprah Winfrey is the richest woman in America. The reason why Condi Rice is four heartbeats away from the presidency. The reason why Denzel Washington and Halle Berry had the chance to win Academy Awards. The reason why Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods are international sports icons. The reason, frankly, why I'm still alive after a dread disease instead of dying a painful death in a segregated and inadequate hospital. And every American - black, white, or whatever - needs to take special care to read the obituaries to Parks today and play close attention to what a hero truly is.

Honestly ...

... wouldn't you love it if they held hands?

Another creepy commercial!

This new spot in which the Pillsbury Dough Boy dances sensually to Barry White tunes to promote how Pillsbury biscuits can help your love life? Dough Boy called "the other Mr. White"? Er, no. Though maybe David Copperfield can use the biscuits to help him knock up a chick without touching her.

Poof!

Word has reached the states that David Copperfield, the stylish magician who can make everything from the Statue of Liberty to Claudia Schiffer disappear, will go the opposite way in his next grand illusion. Copperfield has told a German magazine that he intends to impregnate a woman on stage, in front of an audience, without touching her.

I'll avoid the obvious joke concerning Copperfield, and go for a slightly less obvious one.

How dare Copperfield mock the vast and unexplainable powers of a superior being by fathering a child with no intimate contact whatsoever! Who does he think he is - Tom Cruise?

Thank you - enjoy the veal!

Creepy commercials!!

Is anyone else as skivved out as I am about these Charles Schwab commercials that are animated, only not? (Or live-action, only not, depending on your perspective?) I know it's reminiscent of what Richard Linklater did in his psuedo-cartoon Walking Life, but that was a feature film that was using that avant-garde form of animation to convey a mood. These are ... commercials about a brokerage firm. And, frankly, it's doing more to creep me out than attract me to "talk to Chuck." Though I'm not really looking to built a portfolio, being that I'm almost broke and all.

And while we're talking about weird TV ads, can we please get rid of that guy in the Burger King commercials with the big plastic king head? He reminds me of an escaped mental patient. The only thing scarier than that is that killer breakfast sandwich he's hawking, 500,000 calories and all.

And, yes, I know I haven't posted in, like, forever. I'm working on it, I promise.

Kate Moss blows it!

Sorry, couldn't resist the pun. But then again, it really works as more than just a stupid (or rather clever) joke. After all, Kate Moss was caught by those pesky British tabloids indulging in a white powder not sugar. With photographic evidence, to boot. And it only took days for a major fashion retailelr, H&M, to drop Moss as a endorser only 24 hours after backing her on the grounds that everyone deserves a "second chance." H&M announced its shift in opinion after being inundated with negative reaction to their decision to keep Moss on the payroll, cocaine or otherwise. Whether more business jump off the Moss boat remains to be seen, but the scuttlebutt is that her career as a petulant and waifish supermodel may be in trouble.

All of which means, of course, that the ’70s are finally over. Because if a supermodel can't take part in some recreational drug abuse, then an era has truly passed. Now they'll have to start eating or something for their vice of choice.

This can't be good!

Oh, those pesky scientists, always a bunch of killjoys. If it wasn't bad enough that daydreams may cause Alzheimers and that chocolate may shrink your testicles, now this piece of good news from some of the world's top thinkers:

Earth's Core Spinning Faster Than Crust - Yahoo! News: "The solid core that measures about 1,500 miles in diameter is spinning about one-quarter to one-half degree faster, per year, than the rest of the world, scientists from Columbia University's Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign report in Friday's issue of the journal Science.

"The spin of the Earth's core is an important part of the dynamo that created the planet's magnetic field, and researcher Xiaodong Song said he believes magnetic interaction is responsible for the different rates of spin."

So I guess it's time we informed Hilary Swank and Delroy Lindo to fire up their superduper supersonic underground drill again and head back down for another round of Core maitenance! 'Cause anything that has to do with the core of the Earth going wacky can't be kismet for the future of mankind. (Though it does explain the 2000 election and why "Yes, Dear" is still on the air.)

(Note: I was kidding about the chocolate study. But you never know!)

Fun with profanity

My dear buddy Beth, whom all of you should get to know someday, pointed me via her own blog to this cool quiz on, what else, Quizilla.com that determine what swear word you are. I know, the idea that every individual on Earth can be summed up by one singular profanity is genius, though it does make me wonder what kind of result people like Pope Benedict XVI or the Dali Lama might end up with. (Not to mention that other beacon of spirituality, Tom Cruise.) But I digress. The curious cat in me couldn't resist, so I went and I tested. And my result?

"Your word is SHIT. You are laid back and relaxed, and most people like you. You don't especially want to stand out from the crowd, you are pretty happy with your lot."

So that's it. Frankly, what with the way I've been feeling about the upcoming fall television season, not to mention my beloved (!) Chicago Cubs, I'm a bit surprised that it wasn't something harsher. Heck, "shit" is so PG-13. (The aforementioned Beth, meanwhile - who has one of the kindest hearts I know - registered the F-bomb. Then again, she's pretty feisty when provoked.) According to Quiziilla's stats, 35 percent of testers share my colorful description.

If you want to take the test yourself - that includes you, Mr. Lama! - click on the title of this entry to go directly to Quizilla. Then feel free to liberally use your particular word for the rest of the day, if it makes you feel better.

Stranger with Candy

A revelation from Science:

Study Describes Bar at Center of Milky Way - Yahoo! News:

"After creating the most detailed analysis yet of what the Milky Way looks like, astronomers say a long bar of stars cuts on an angle through the center of the galaxy that includes the sun and planet Earth."

That's interesting. But if the experts had said that the bar was made out of creamy nougat instead of stars, that really would have been a breakthrough - because then we may have finally figured out what nougat actually is.

Or maybe nougat is in fact made of stars.

Lefties (and I'm not talking politics)

Oh, the things we discover with our fertile little brains. To wit, courtesy of the AP:

Study: Most Wild Chimps Are Southpaws - Yahoo! News:

"WASHINGTON - When it comes to fishing tasty termites out of their mounds, wild chimpanzees don't have the right stuff. Most, in fact, are southpaws. A three-year study of 17 wild chimps in Gombe National Park, Tanzania, found that 12 of them used their left hands when using sticks to probe for termites.

Four were right-handed and one was listed as ambiguously handed."

"Ambiguously handed." Sounds dirty, no? But, seriously, I guess we just found out where the brunt of the major-league scouts will be spending their winter. I know of one team on the North Side of Chicago who could use some simian assistance sooner rather than later. :)

"Peter Jennings - Reporter"

Watching the two-hour special on Peter Jennings' life (and I mean two-hour - no commercial interruptions) was, in some ways, an incredibly sad experience. Not just sadness as a life interrupted, but also at the fact that Jennings' passing was really the end of an era. Here was a reporter who actually seemed totally devoted to reporting - and not just on the big stories, though he clearly excelled in them, but also the little stories, the ones that not many people cared or knew about, the stories that could get him in trouble. I was struck at how many documentaries he did that probably could never get produced today because they were critical of the U.S. government or something like that. I liked that the special did not shy away from the fact that he was a work in progress, that it took time and struggle for Jennings to achieve the skill that made him so revered in the industry. And I liked that the show dealt with perhaps the main controversy of his professional career, the allegation that he was somehow anti-Israeli or pro-Palestinian. And his doggedness to get to the truth and the heart of the story, even when he was being eaten alive by cancer and nowhere near the newsroom. One producer choked up talking about the one of the last calls Jennings made to ABC News from his sickbed - directing the troops as to how they should properly cover the London bombings. The program also didn't avoid the painful fact of what killed Jennings. One entire segment was devoted to his addiction to cigarettes - and, noted with some irony, his coverage of the tobacco industry. Even a tobacco executive spoke about how Jennings covered the story with tenaciousness, but always with fairness.

All of the examining of his career brought home one big point: that while Jennings was not a perpetrator of so-called media bias, he definitely saw his job as more than just a mere reciting of the news of the day. He most likely saw himself as an advocate - for those stories he thought deserved more coverage, and for those people who touched his heart or were in need. And you have to ask: How many of the current crop of reporters, even the superstars, have that in them? And what of the next generation?

There was also much about Jennings the man - a man, friends pointed out, who took great, and successful, pains to keep his private life private. A camera went into his empty, cluttered office, filled with books on almost every topic. His myriad of awards were kept in a very special location there - his private bathroom. His sister, who sounds almost exactly like him, was interviewed extensively. Friends noted that he was shy (explaining his ability to communicate with children) and that he was very cheap, almost ashamed that he was wealthy. His curiosity about America, religion, and more was forever insatiable. One person spoke of his volunteer work at a local homeless shelter after being genuinely shocked that such poverty could exist just 40 blocks from his Manhattan home. He regularly hosted an annual jazz festival at his own home in support of a favorite charity. And there was his family - his wife, who he always called "Darling." His kids, to whom he was passionately devoted. Video was shown of him all but completely losing it when he was speaking at his daughter's high school graduation seven years ago, saying how proud he was that she had done something her father had never done.

Maybe most extraordinary of all, and lost in the tragedy of Jennings' loss or this celebration of his career, was the speed in which this 120 minutes was put together. Remember that ABC admitted that nothing was prepared in advance prior to his death. The folks there had basically two days to produce this special. Many people were interviewed, from nearly every big name (and a lot of not-so-big names) at ABC News were interviewed, along with everyone from President Clinton and Condoleezza Rice to Antonin Scalia and Al Sharpton and Alan Alda (both close friends of his). And the clips and the file footage - that alone made this show a fantastic achievement, one that, even with some mild mawkishness, was Emmy worthy. It's too bad they had to make it.

If you didn't see it, I hope ABC replays it so you can.

Sour grapes, but perfect for making a fine French whine, er, wine

Well, that didn't take long. Less than a week after London upset Paris for the rights to the 2012 Summer Olympics, the mayor of the French capital, one Bertrand Delanoe, is screaming foul play, accusing Tony Blair and British Olympic head Sebastian Coe - Lord Coe to his friends - of crossing the line when it came to their campaigning tactics. Delanoe speaks specifically of criticism of the Paris bid by British officials, and that Blair sinned by having a private meeting with IOC members in his own hotel room in Singapore days before the final vote.

You know, the French have many redeeming qualities - pretty buildings, good cheese, Catherine Deneuve. And not to get political, but I defended them when they chose not to back the U.S. in the war in Iraq. But it's times like these when I get why they are hated by much of the developed world. Forget the fact that Delanoe may be better served yelling at his country's president, Jacques Chirac, for possibly torpedoing the Paris bid with his stupid bashing of British cuisine (see below post). But did it ever occur to Le Mayor de Paris that he is speaking ill will of London and the UK at a particularly inappropriate time in their own history? What, he couldn't wait until the mourning period was over? Idiot.

Besides, what kind of name if "Bertrand," anyway?

This Internet marketing is really something

It must be, as I've received three spams promising a year's supply of Oreo cookies in the last 24 hours. How did they know? :)

It's too bad Li'l Kim is going to the pokey for a year ...

Not because she's innocent of the charge of perjury. (And frankly, that's a pretty lame way for a rapper to get set to the Big House, no?) But because the great prison nickname M. Diddy has already been clamed by Martha Stewart. Or, and that she'll probably have to wear clothes while incarcerated. :)

Sacré blew!

Remember what your mother said when you were younger: "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"? Jacques Chirac may be wondering that right about now as he stews in his subtly sauteed juices in Scotland at the G8 summit, ruing this day as the day that the French capital, Paris, was upset in the chase for the 2012 Summer Olympics by the British capital, London. It may never be clearly known what exactly put London over the top in defeating the heavily favorite Parisian contingent for the right to host the world's biggest athletic event, but many already are pointing the finger at Chirac's comments of a few days' ago, in which he told the leaders of Germany and Russia that a nation that can't cook decent food like the UK could never be trusted. Now, I don't necessarily disagree with Chirac on that one, but it's what he allegedly said next that could have had the IOC scratching its head - he added that English food was the worst in the world, with the exception of the cuisine of Finland.

Having not been to Helsinki for supper recently, I can't say whether that opinion has any validity - but I'm sure the two Finnish members of the IOC committee that votes on who gets the Games couldn't have been pleased. In the final vote, London beat Paris by the tally of 54-50. You do the potential math.

Who says the Finns don't have spunk? Just don't accept their dinner invites until you know what's on the menu, I guess.

MTV and Live 8: The Video Star Is Dead

Live 8 was touted as being the greatest musical event in the history of this planet. And I saw many indications on Saturday that this was indeed the case. But the brunt of the world may have to wait until the DVD packages hit the stores - if they do - because thanks to MTV et al, the true power of these varied musical acts was blunted by a motley goo of commercials, meaningless audience interviews and copious amounts of the "music" network's patting themselves on the back for bringing Live 8 to our eyes.

It made me pine for the heady days of Live Aid almost exactly 20 years ago. Back then I remember bitching about the many PSAs, hosted by no less than Sally Field, reminding us about why Queen and Led Zeppelin and Phil Collins and all these other legends and newbies of the rock and pop realms had congregated onto the stages of London and Philadelphia - not merely to entertain us, but also to urge us to donate money to the famine-stricken African continent. But, looking back, at least then the music actually was presented just about in its entirety. And, after all, it was a telethon.

This time, to be fair, MTV had some additional hurdles to deal with. Instead of two concert venues, there were 10 to deal with, so presenting every song from every act was an impossibility. But MTV could have tried. After all, they now have several branded networks thanks to that 500-channel universe that's not a reality. Wasn't it worth it to, say, place the Philadelphia portion of Live 8 on MTV, the London venue on VH1, disperse the others on MTV2, VH1 Classic, MTV Hits, etc.? And even if that wasn't part of the plan, how about at lease not cutting into actual songs to tell us what a historic event we were experiencing? When they interrupted the extraordinary Pink Floyd reunion - during David Gilmour's guitar solo in "Comfortably Numb," no less - I nearly threw something at the TV screen. Sure, it was the last song of the band's set, but still, what, they couldn't wait another two minutes?

For many, Live Aid was the peak of MTV's existence, a triumphant melding of music and pop culture with some social consciousness thrown in for good measure. Live 8 may be not only its nadir, but perhaps its death knell as a television network of any importance. They should be ashamed.

"War of the Worlds" - saw a screening last night

This is one freaky movie, full of thrills and fantastic visual effects. It's much more episodic than Spielberg's usual stuff, but that's the nature of the story he's telling - the story of Cruise trying to get his kids to safety from the alien invasion. Also, don't expect Cruise to do any typical action-heroic stuff. He's much more concerned with keeping his family safe than saving the world. But it's pretty loyal to H.G. Wells' book, including the opening and ending narration (I won't tell you who does that, but it's pretty cool.) And there are allusions to 9/11 all over the place here, something that Spielberg has readily admitted. Some have complained that after about 90 minutes of nonstop thrills, the film bogs down when the clan runs into Tim Robbins, still in partial "Mystic River" mode as a creepy survivor determined to launch a "surprise attack" against the marauding tripods. But that sequence has its merits as well.

The most astounding thing about "War of the Worlds" is the speed at which this ambitious above-average film was made. Remember that this was pretty much a gap-filller of a project for both Cruise and Spielberg, who had respective jobs that were postponed prior to singing on to this. If nothing else, this movie is a testament to landing on one's feet and making maximum effort to spend one's time efficiently.

3 1/2 stars

Tom Cruise squirted in face in London

There's a joke in here somewhere, but I'm not touching it with a ten-inch, er, ten-foot pole. But seriously, folks, can be blame Tom for getting pissed off over this incident? What if it had been human blood or acid or anthrax? I was just amazed as Tom kept smiling even as his rage was obviously building. Maybe this Scientotology mind trick has some benefits after all.

Perp walk, animal style

The perp walk is now part of the popular culture, thanks to the likes of CNN and "Entertainment Tonight." Witnessing the journey of the newly accused as they face the cameras for the first time as arrestees has been as common a sight on the tube as the toothy anchors or the sensational promos for the nightly news. Thank the likes of O.J. Simpson, Michael Jackson, Timothy McVeigh and, most recently, Russell Crowe for that. All of this is perhaps a lengthy intro for my topic of the day. Because I've noticed that the commercials that advertise miracle methods for removing pet stains and odors (one such product has the deliciously audacious name "Urine Gone) always feature doggies and kitties looking tremendously, tremendously guilty at their "offenses."

I don't mean to compare a cocker spaniel to Russell Crowe, though the jury is still out about which beast of burden is smarter. But I'm asking, is it necessary to make our furry friends out as archcriminals just because they may lack a bit of bladder control? As the poet says, when you've got to go, you've got to go. Instead of shaming these critters, why not celebrate the fact that Science, after putting a man on the moon and perfecting the art of organ transplantation, has turned its gaze upon more pressing matters such as removing dog pee from the carpet?

Really, there ought to be a law.