never been a bitch so I don't act bitchy

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

"Love Is... Homemade Amateur Porno?"

Whoa! My favorite single-panelled Jesusy gentle comic about love just got crazy-pornographic.

What's happened to the funny pages?

I better go check what the Family Circus is up to.

"NotMe is giving PJ a blumpkin!"

Saturday, June 23, 2007


Thursday, June 21, 2007

we'll defuse bombs, and walk marathons, and take on whatever, together

The late, great Grandaddy.

(You gotta admire a drummer who can smoke through an entire song.)

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Film Pigs Movie Review Vlog #13

YAR! Swab the dreck! The Pigs end up walking the plank and seeing the confounding pile of booty that is "Pirates of The Caribbean: At World's End." They need a CGI-patch after seeing that piece of ship! And some better pirate puns. Polly want a new script and better-defined characters. YAR! (With special guest Pig: Shannon Hillary.)

Friday, June 15, 2007

Grape Lady Remix!

Monday, June 11, 2007

Nikki Finke Is Insane

I started reading her recently because I get off on the Hollywood insider minutiae she's obsessed with. But almost immediately upon reading her it became apparent that she's a relentless self-booster, oozes with Schadenfreude, and overall just has a very nasty, unlikable tone.

So I shouldn't be surprised that this award-winning (as she'll constantly remind you) journalist’s Sopranos finale rant today sounds like a TWOP forum post from one of the site's less stable readers:

"The line to cancel HBO starts here. What a ridiculously disappointing end lacking in creativity to The Sopranos saga. But if you're one of those who found it perversely interesting, then don't bother to read on. Even if David Chase, who wrote and directed the final episode, was demonstrating the existential and endless loop of Tony's life or the moments before the hit that causes his death, it still robbed the audience of visual closure. And if it were done to segue into a motion picture sequel, then that kind of crass commercialism shouldn't be tolerated..."

Which is silly enough. (“Visual closure”? Is that like a money shot?) But then she continues:

"Chase clearly didn't give a damn about his fans. Instead, he crapped in their faces. This is why America hates Hollywood."

Wow. Cohesive argument. I used to wonder if Nikki Finke is so dialed in, why exactly is it that she writes for a free paper funded mostly by ads for medical marijuana and call girls. But I wonder no longer.

Then it's almost as if she gives up, ending with the just bizarre:

"The Nielsen reality is that people don't watch TV closely anymore, much less remember what went on from week to week, to give such a subtle ending its proper due. Besides, The Sopranos was not a show that went on inside your head. It was a richly visual series whose most memorable moments were graphic and in your face and damn proud of it."

I'm not even sure I can trace her logic here. People don't watch TV closely anymore? (Unlike the subtle olden days when viewers were trained to pick apart the nuanced moments of Bonanza and Murder She Wrote?) And The Sopranos was never a subtle show anyway? Really? When was that? Therefore David Chase is being an elitist by ending the show with nuance, rather than a Heat-style bloodbath?

Wow. Don't stop believing, crazy lady.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Two Good Things

I Love You, Beth Cooper is both a high school graduation-night romp and a parody of high school graduation-night romps, and succeeds equally on both counts -- which is a really hard thing to pull off. It's silly and over-the-top and cruel and dirty. It's also hip and smart and current and referency. It has a timeless quality; it does what high school stories should do: make you feel like you're back there. Or glad you're not back there. Or wishing you were because man, do you have some unfinished business. But most importantly, it's funny as hell.

Speaking of the end of high school, a week before my senior prom, I walked into a room at a cast party and found my girlfriend getting a more-than shoulder massage from this pud named Justin who liked to run laps and butcher Tenneesse Williams one-acts. He also liked to fuck my girlfriend, as it turned out, and so I suddenly found myself without a prom date. Because my portion of the limo was already paid for and the regrettable maroon vest already rented, I took a Junior named Gretchen who I'd done a few shows with. I showed her a terrible time that night, as all I did was stare at my ex and the pud.

But anyway, my prom date recovered and has all grownsed up turned into a wonderful jazz singer. This is her gorgeous, spare version of The Flaming Lips' "Do You Realize?" and its accompanying super, Super-8 video.

Do You Realize

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