Monthly Archives: June 2006

“So … do you wanna make out?”
“Make out. Fake out. Take out. Stakeout. OHMYGOD we should get Chinese take out and watch Another Stakeout! It’s so good it’s bad. And so bad it’s good. It’s both. You’ll love it. I love it. So you should love it. What kind of noodles do you want? I don’t like egg rolls that much, but you can get them if you want, and I can make fun of you for eating them and call you Emilio. Or do you want to be Richard Dreyfuss? Because I’m not —”
“…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing, it looks like something. Definitely has that ‘something’ vibe.”
“It’s just …”
“What?”
“Shut up, you know?”
“What do you mean? You trailed off, so I just wondered —”
“No, not then. Well, then, too, but I mean in general: Just shut up sometimes, okay?”
“Are you saying I talk too much?”
“I lack the vocabulary and energy to describe just how much you talk. It’s a non-stop thing.”
“But don’t you think it’s cute and fun and quirky? I thought you liked my quirky. Quirky’s a very big thing with me, and it seems that guys like the quirky —”
“I will punch you in the mouth so hard your teeth break if you do not stop talking. Right now.”
“…”
“Thanks. Wow. … Silence. So this is what everyone’s been talking about.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying the constant chattering is slowly killing me. And don’t you ever want to do anything different? Like go out? Or, you know, if we stayed in, maybe not watch a crappy old movie or something. I mean, don’t you have, you know …”
“What?”
“A bad side? Or at least a normal one? I don’t know. Would it help if I wore a Santa hat or something? Would you like that?”
“Why would I like that?”
“I don’t know, saw it in a movie or something. Anyway, look: The point is, you have to shut up. Or I will kill you. Your incessant blathering is driving me right up the brink of murder, and it’s almost like you want to push me over the edge. So if you want to make out or something, great. But if you just want to sit around and ramble on about every damn worthless thing you saw on the drive home, then I will kill you. Or just leave you. I really don’t know which anymore. I really care about you, you know, but every single thing that happens to you does not require some clumsy attempt at arcane wit. Just … shut up, you know? Shut up. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“…”
“So, do you have the Santa hat with you?”

Action!
Horror!
Suspense!
Mutants!
C.J. sitting all alone on a park bench, weeping and mourning the brutal shooting of Secret Service agent Simon Donovan!
Okay, so the last one’s a bit of a downer. But still, you should read The Pajiba trade round-up, where all the week’s news comes handily condensed, not to mention with expletives and pretty pictures. Read it.

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I’m officially going to have to wait something like 6 months to post my own thoughts about Dane Cook, since the TV Whore has once again knocked out a great column, this one about the hype behind the SuFi.

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In response to all the e-mails I get on the subject, and in the interest of public safety, here are some facts about midgets that might come in handy.

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What’s that you say? You’re thirsty for some bedroom poptronica? Well, eat up. I recommend the frighteningly catchy cover of “King of Wishful Thinking.” You will not be disappointed. You simply will not.

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I’ve been listening to “Fizzy Fuzzy …” for at least 8 years now, and it’s still pretty amazing. The tracks mix humor and heartbreak and the heat from the Sonoran Desert, blended through a return to honest, post-grunge ’90s rock with a Southwestern flavor. “Blue Collar Suicide” opens up with a high-powered punchline, but “Down Together” is timeless, and “Girly” has a punk-injected swing reminiscent of classic Uncle Tupelo tracks. I could go on, but I won’t, except to say that by the time Roger Clyne belts out the final chorus in “Nada” — “There ain’t no morals to these stories at all / And everything I tell you you can bet will be a lie” — the album has somehow offered a look at something deeper, more substantial, than just barreling through the desert with the top down. Sometimes that’s the best way to get there.

Gotta admit, composed most of this in a haze:
Clickety-click.

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Also of note: Before the film, I was all excited to see the 90-second teaser for Spider-Man 3, but The Grove, in what has to be the 17th thing they did to piss me off, didn’t have it attached to my print. But you can behold the trailer here, in all its glory.

Superman complains of “totally gay” costume and trades it in for one-piece jumper, initially thought to help his mobility but which turns out to be just as gay. Superman eventually realizes this, only now it’s too late to change back, since chaging the first time was such a big to-do, so he just grumps around and puts up with the jumper, which really rides up when he flies. (8%)
In a stunning personnel change, Lex Luthor hires Ned Beatty as his sidekick. (3%)
While having sex with Superman, Lois Lane dies in what could pretty accurately be called a fairly gruesome manner, a twist that both vindicates and saddens legions of Kevin Smith fans. (64%)
Superman’s powers, most notably his ability to fly, are revealed to be the result of a high midichlorian count in his bloodstream. (0.4%)
In a nod to the religion of his creators, Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, Superman decides to get “all Jewed up” and become a hero mainly for the Orthodox residents of Metropolis. The story of how Superman flew all the Jews out of Israel becomes incorporated into the Torah. (27%)
In a dark but admittedly realistic turn of events, Superman uses his ability to travel through time to place bets on future sporting events and amass most of the country’s wealth. After Superman bloodily murders the first few people who tell him this is just a blatant ripoff of Back to the Future: Part II, the people of Metropolis just give up and go with the flow. (18%)

Oh, thinly disguised ads masquerading as entertainment. I can never seem to get enough.

First up: This looks like a pretty stupid movie, but the poster’s good.

I think all movies should now be advertised via tramp stamp.

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This, however, is just annoying. Here are some images from HP’s new ad campaign about computers aren’t mindless machines, but actually warmhearted family members that deserve love and respect and all that:

And here’s the front cover of Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, published in April 2005:

There’s an even better HP ad from a recent issue of Time that features a vertical hand outline filled with quirky script, but I couldn’t find it online.
In the words of Wayne Campbell: Did they think we wouldn’t notice? You won’t fool me, HP. You’re not an earnest twentysomething author that gleefully pushes the limits of emotion via the written word. You sell printers. Learn to accept your industrialized nature.

As I mounted the steps to the Laemmle Sunset 5, I came upon a man wearing a black T-shirt that said “best boy” on the back. I wondered about the shirt: Was he really one of the dozens of below-the-line crewmembers that live and work here? Was he wearing it ironically? He looked to be in his late 30s, and was standing with a woman and two young girls. I noticed the box office was empty, which is when the guy turned to me and said, “I hear Wordplay‘s supposed to be good.”
I’m a nice guy, and it was a nice day, so I figured, Why not, I’ll talk to a stranger. “Yeah,” I replied, “that’s what I’m here to see.”
He stuck out his hand. “Patrick. I’m the director.”
I shook it. “Dan. I’m the … viewer, I guess.” (I like to make lame jokes when meeting professionals/famous people. It helps keep my self-image hovering low enough to keep writing. It’s a long story.)
He introduced me to the woman, Christine, who produced Wordplay. We stood there for a few minutes and talked about financing, trims they’d made to the cut since it screened at Sundance, what drew them to the topic, etc. It was a nice conversation.
Just another friendly reminder that L.A. beats all hell out of wherever it is that you live. (I’m especially looking at you on this one, American South.)
Anyway:
Clickety-click.

Does anyone else remember the “Conan the Adventurer” cartoon from a few years back? Tell me I’m not making that up. I can hear the theme song and everything.
Anyway: The Pajiba trade round-up.

Short and sweet:
• Granted, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Good Night, and Good Luck, but this cover seems a little misleading. Oh, those wacky Chinese pirates.
• A mind-boggling display of commitment, not to mention a little too much free time.
• This is better than the original.