Standing Up

Kevin's right.

Whining about Republicans doesn't make Obama or Clinton any more presidential. They should stand tall and fight back; doing so explicitly says why people should vote for them (instead of against the other guy), and the very fact of it demands respect. On the other hand, the message "He's not playing nice" carries the unmistakable odor of wimp. And who wants that?

UPDATE: This, from Edwards, is the smarter move. Still low on specifics, though.

Rob

On hold...

You know you’re speaking to customer service in another country when…

They read your ID number back to you, giving words to make sure the letters are correct –you know, A for Apple, D for Delta, etc.—and they use “L for Lemur?”

…still on hold…

Rob

Droppin' It Like It's Hot

Another 2.6 pounds has found its way to somewhere beyond my vast circumference. Making it 20.6 pounds gone, total -- which means I hit my goal* before going to New Orleans one week early. Maybe Beer & Bratwurst Monday wasn't such a bad idea after all...

Rob

*My pre-vacation goal, that is. Plenty more to do when I get back.

The Nova Scotia Board of Tourism

Drinking doesn’t necessarily give me bad dreams…but sometimes it lets me wake up with bad notions. I got this idea soon after (during?) waking up this morning after a night of drinking strong beer with my friend Mike. The worst part is, I can’t convince myself it’s a truly bad idea.

It’s an idea for a Saturday Night Live sketch – a recurring one, in fact, called the Nova Scotia Board of Tourism. It stars a set of twin sisters as representatives of Nova Scotia in New York City, and they go about trying to raise Nova Scotia’s profile by horning in on whatever press conference is nearby. Some of their questions are about Nova Scotia (“What’s your stance on Lobster imports, Snoop Dogg?”) while most of the time they’re just trying to raise their own profile by asking what to them sound like hard-hitting questions:

Isn’t this just a case of connecting the dots, Congressman? Isn’t this just a simply matter of two times two equals five?”

“Um, two times two doesn’t equal five.”

“Then what times two times two equals five? Tell me that, congressman. And no fraction double-talk.”

Like I said, I’m not certain it’s a bad idea. But it’s hardly a slam-dunk good one.

Rob

The Worms Crawl In

Just a quick post to renew my call for that most pernicious of vermin: the earworm. I was given a few more entries in person this weekend (including "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang," and thanks VERY MUCH for that, yessiree!), but I wanted to prod y'all one last time to supply me with whatever tune starts jangling around in your head. Because of my upcoming vacation, I'm postponing the execution of this blog game until early May, but when that dread day comes, I want to be prepared.

So lay it on me, brothers and sisters.

Rob

Wastin' Away Again

Despite a Saturday night full of drinks and appetizers, I managed to misplace 2.6 pounds this week. Down 18 so far. I want two more gone before I go to Jazzfest in a couple of weeks (and gain it all back, almost certainly).

Rob

The Lower 50 Percent Solution

Bill Maher has a really funny piece at Salon on Bush's problem with incompetence. Or maybe it's not his problem, but it's certainly ours.

Rob
(Click through the ad to see it for free.)

I Hung On To Mary's Stump...

Buy a few cartons of Lucky Strikes. Smoke 'em six at a time if you have to. You have till Friday.

Rob
(Thanx to JtB)

Jonesing

The other day, I realized I missed NPR.

Well, that's not quite it. I've can tune into an NPR station, WNYC out of New York, whenever I like. And I always hear about 20 minutes of Morning Edition on the way to work, which is usually discussing something both miserable and intractable. Arab-Israeli conflict, anyone? But what I was really missing were the shows I used to hear all the time: Fresh Air and Radio Times, both out of Philadelphia. Fresh Air is a national show, but it plays on NYC at a time that's doubly inconvenient -- not only am I generally not in my car at 8pm, but by that time NYC's FM station switches to classical music, and I have to go fishing around on the AM dial to hear it. Radio Times is a Philly-area call-in show, and as far as I know isn't on NYC or any other station besides WHYY.

No matter. Podcasts are more convenient anyway. So far I've just listened to a few Fresh Airs. I like the show because no matter the subject, Terry Gross always elicits an interesting conversation. I never used to be able to pick and choose, but since there's a podcast backlog, I've managed to listen to Richard Dawkins about his book The God Delusion, as well as a reporter who worked on the story of the changing chemical balance of the oceans, and actor Gabriel Byrne (who even briefly talked about one of my favorite movies, Miller's Crossing). In other words, I'm really enjoying it. (I'll be dipping my toe back into Radio Times tomorrow. I'm pickier about my subjects with that one. I don't really give a hoot about gardening, and even less about what people might call in to say about it. And I'm only slightly more interested in Don Imus, although here's a piece about racism, politics and that niche of talk radio that I found interesting enough to read to the end.)

At the end of Thursday's Fresh Air (which I heard today), the music critic reviews an album by British singer Amy Winehouse, Back To Black. I'd seen enough mentions of her in Entertainment Weekly to seek out one of her songs on YouTube the other day, and I liked it enough to play it a few times. Then I surfed away, thinking "If I ever hear that song again, I may have to buy that album." So today I hear some of it on Fresh Air, and my opinion hasn't changed. It's called "Rehab"; give it a listen and you might feel the same.



Rob

Domo Arigato, Sherlock.

In the "A word to the wise shouldn't be necessary at all" category, this week's Entertainment Weekly crowns "Mr. Roboto" as the Number 1 Worst Song to Listen to While Getting It On.

"Heavy Metal Poisoning" was not mentioned. It seems the couplet, "First we'll spank your big behind/Then we'll twist your little mind," is working for someone...

Rob

A Little Housecleaning

So, I messed around with my jumbled-up blogroll a little, dividing it into four sections, named after comic books. I know, you're shocked. They're pretty self-explanatory (or they wouldn't work as headers), but I thought I'd explicity say what each one was, just to have the most boring blog post ever.

So, we've got Archie's Pals & Gals, which are my friends' blogs and websites. (My gal--singular--doesn't blog, but some of my pals are gals, so I think it counts.) Next is Captain America, for the political blogs and sites I visit. After that, there's Comics Cavalcade, for -- you don't really need me to tell you, do you? And then there's Silver Surfer, for all the random Web stuff.

I'll be taking a closer looks at some defunct blogs on the blogroll soon, but in the cases of friends' blogs, at least, I won't be deleting them entirely. They'll just be moved to a new section: Tales From the Crypt. Because you never know when they'll come back, hungry for brains. (If you haven't updated in 3 months, to the Crypt you go!)

Rob

You Gotta Lift Up Every Stone

You know, as I watch the White House stonewall and prevaricate and, yes, stonewall about the emails requested to get to the bottom of the US Attorney scandal, it just looks worse and worse. It’s becoming clearer and clearer that the Attorneys were fired because they weren’t willing to play ball on Karl Rove’s team and trump up some charges – I mean, “vigorously prosecute” – vote fraud in Democratic districts. And what’s worse, other US Attorneys, like Wisconsin’s Steven Biskupic, were all too willing to do just that to keep their jobs (more here). So what we wind up with is a compromised judicial system in the thrall of the party in power.

Not good. So bad, in fact, that the President and his crew are bending over backwards trying to cover it up, using the Republican National Committee emails for government work (to keep their dirtier dealings from being discovered), deleting emails that should have been preserved according to regulations, and then claiming executive privilege to shield them from the eyes of the representatives of the People.

They say it’s not the crime that nails politicians, but the cover-up. In this case, I think it’s both. And if Bush doesn’t stem the bleeding soon, this could very well proceed into impeachment territory. (The stomach-churning prospect of a President Cheney is keeping a lot of fingers off that trigger, I imagine.)

Attorney General Gonzales is going to testify about the firings next Tuesday, April 17. They say Bush is tremendously loyal to those he came up with, but I have to wonder: Is it possible that the only reason Gonzales hasn’t been given his walking papers yet is because it would be even worse for Bush to have him outside the tent, pissing in?

Rob

Sulu, Set a Course...

Jim the Bastard has an amusing photo of the Las Vegas Planet Hollywood casino during its construction. Go see.

Rob

A Legion of One

Christopher Bird thinks DC should hire him to write the Legion, and is posting at least one new reason why every day. There's no telling what his scripts would be like...but I have to admit I like his ideas.

Rob

Two For Two

Two umbrellas in two weeks. Collapsed, turned in on themselves, and stuffed into the same goddamn trashcan on my walk to work. Twice now, this has happened, in icy bucketfuls of rain. One of the umbrellas' handles twisted off in the wind as I rounded a corner. I couldn't even keep the skeleton together.

I sit here in my office, soaked from the waist down, fuming from the neck up.

This shit has got to stop.

Rob

Dammit.

We've lost another good one.

One of my favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut Jr., passed away tonight, from complications resulting from a fall a couple of weeks ago.

I'm trying very hard to greet this news with "So it goes." Maybe in a little while.

But as it is, I'm reminded of something he wrote in Timequake. "We are here to help each other get through this thing, whatever it is." It sounds corny, but whenever I've picked up one of his books, be it Timequake, Welcome to the Monkey House, Mother Night or Slaughterhouse-Five, I've always found something there to help me through this thing. His voice was gentle and ridiculous, often surprised, always amazed. I always got the sense that he loved everybody, even the sons of bitches he hated. He seemed to me a kindred spirit.

And now he's gone. Hi ho.

So it goes.

Dammit.

Rob

The Daily Grind

I saw (and dug) Grindhouse on opening night. Sharon (one of the folks I saw it with) has a good review of it here. As for me, I was crazy about every last bit of it. I think the Planet Terror segment was more fun, but that on the whole, Death Proof was probably a better movie. Death Proof has a grip on our heart, slowing the viewer's pulse down or speeding it up as it pleases; Planet Terror just grabs us by the balls. (Quite literally, in fact.)

And, of course, the phony trailers were great. Did you know Machete may actually exist next year? (Although the link doesn't say so, I've heard it's planned to go straight to video.) However we get more Danny Trejo is all right with me.

But my real reason for this post isn't just to say how cool I thought the movie was--it's to say how cool I think Cameron Stewart's drawings of characters from the movie are. Here's his illo of Dr. Dakota Block from Planet Terror:


You can find more at his blog. He's only got Cherry and Dakota up there now, but promises more will be along soon.

Rob

Ugh.

Gained a pound. Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you.

I probably shouldn't have eaten that bear.

Rob

Check Out Lee Iacocca!

From his new book, Where Have All the Leaders Gone?:

I hardly recognize this country anymore. The President of the United States is given a free pass to ignore the Constitution, tap our phones, and lead us to war on a pack of lies. Congress responds to record deficits by passing a huge tax cut for the wealthy (thanks, but I don’t need it). The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we’re fiddling in Iraq, the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving pom-poms instead of asking hard questions. That’s not the promise of America my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for. I’ve had enough. How about you?

I’ll go a step further. You can’t call yourself a patriot if you’re not outraged…. Why are we in this mess? How did we end up with this crowd in Washington? Well, we voted for them — or at least some of us did. But I’ll tell you what we didn’t do. We didn’t agree to suspend the Constitution. We didn’t agree to stop asking questions or demanding answers. Some of us are sick and tired of people who call free speech treason. Where I come from that’s a dictatorship, not a democracy.

"You can't call yourself a patriot if you're NOT outraged." Strong stuff.

The Carpetbagger has more here.

Rob

(Via Political Animal)

Eggs in Two Baskets

First, an expose of P.Cotton posted on YouTube:



But then, Polite Dissent makes it all better with an Easter greeting from the 31st Century!

Happy Easter!

Rob

Conservation Of Matter Update

During the past week, 4.6 pounds found their way to somewhere else in the universe, rather than around my waist. I'm fine with that. 16 pounds so far! Somewhere, there's a bowling ball with my name on it.

Easter's coming up , though(5 Peeps for 3 points!), as well as a dinner in a French restaurant Kathy & I have wanted to go to for quite some time. So it's likely to be a tight one this time next week.

All that's immaterial, though -- what's really important is that you scroll down a few posts and leave the names of songs that tend to get stuck in your head in the comments. Or click here if you're lazy. "Miss Jackson," if you're nasty. (There's another one!)

Rob

Mmm...Is That New Blog I Smell?

A hearty welcome to Sharon's Food Blog, the latest thing cooked up by Sharon of The Center of NJ Life. She's the best cook I know, and proves it every single time we eat over their house. Even when we order out...it's uncanny.

So heed her recipes, folks. There's a lot of yummy there.

Rob

Earworms Wanted

Have a song you just can’t get out of your head?

Have twenty?

This is an open call to list them here, in the comments section, for an upcoming project on this very blog. It’s sort of a blog game, like Blog Mad Libs of days gone by, but it’s mixed with just a touch of crackpot, totally subjective scientific inquiry. So lay ’em on me – the tunes that tintinabulate, thumping insistently like a telltale heart. “For the love of God, Montresor!” you might scream, were my name Montresor. “Wall me up in this cellar, just help me get ‘Brick House’ out of my head!”

So this is your mission: Give me your worst. The earworms you can’t ignore, the music that bounces around in your noggin until you start seriously consider trepanning to let the demons out. Think of it as an exorcism. You have to face your fears if you want to defeat them. Even though they’re mighty mighty.

Do it for science! What could go wrong?

Rob

Pardon the Mess

I'm tweaking the template a little bit. If it's anything like tidying up the house, it should be done about an hour before our next Mardi Gras party.

(And if someone can tell me how to get my Blog Archive to rest flush right, I'll write a dirty limerick about the person of their choice.)

Rob

Holy Shit! (I mean, "Great Krypton!")

I’ve been participating in a conversation on the Newsarama blog about the use of light profanity (ass, bitch, damn) in comics. I started out from the point that those words are barely profanity anymore*, since you can hear them on the tv and radio. Mostly I was just replying in short bursts, but then a gent named Palladin wrote a longer post, and I responded to one sentence in particular. Since I’m calmer and more rational than I sometimes am on message boards, I thought I’d produce it here.

I think we can find some points of agreement, Palladin, even though we’re coming at it from opposite ends.

You wrote:

Cussing is really just a way of either shocking or not having a broad enough vocabulary to use more of any language.

I pretty much fundamentally disagree with that, even give the caveats you add afterward. I don’t think the only function of cuss words are their shock value, or as a poor substitute for some more erudite phrasing. I think that sometimes, a swear is exactly the word a writer or speaker wants to use. Or, to quote Spencer Tracy’s character in Inherit the Wind:

“I don't swear for the hell of it. Language is a poor enough means of communication. We've got to use all the words we've got.”

That said, I think there’s a lot of cussing in comics that is just plain lazy. “Using all the words we’ve got” also means using a tamer word when it’s called for, as well. I remember an issue of Fantastic Four when Sue Storm mentioned an ass-kicking in some context. It might have been blanked out, it might not have – but either way, it seemed out of character.

In contrast, however, I don’t think replacing “Was she always this bitchy?” with “Was she always this catty?” [in a recent issue of Green Lantern] works. “Catty” is an old-fashioned word for “bitchy.” It’s what someone might say when they’re holding their tongue, and I don’t think it would be in character for Cowgirl in that context of an attack by Star Sapphire. (It might be, however, if she were meeting Hal’s mom (if she were still alive).

Context matters. I could see Superman saying something nearly “kicked his ass,” when talking to Batman or Lois—confidantes with whom he would hold nothing back. But when talking to Ma or Pa Kent, he’d probably say “kicked my butt.” And when speaking in front of a child, he’d phrase things differently altogether.

I want writers to think about what they write. Sometimes it seems like they don’t (even if they have – who can know for sure, really?). But the use or non-use of profanity is a symptom of that larger issue, in my opinion.

You can read the entire ongoing discussion here.

Rob

*The pedantic in me feels compelled to add that "ass" and "bitch" aren't profanity at all, but obscenity, and that "damn" is the only actual profanity on the list. But having said that, for the purposes of this discussion the two terms are pretty much interchangeable.

Easter Turkey with Graham Parker

For some reason, for the past two years I’ve found myself listening to Graham Parker’s “Almost Thanksgiving Day” as Easter approaches. The song curdles with middle-aged discontent – just the sort of thing to hear as fall starts giving way to winter. So why do I find it so compelling in springtime?

Full steam ahead, come what may
You get the world that you make, they say
Chop up the wood and bale hay
Now that it’s almost Thanksgiving Day

The kids come and go with their things
We sit and polish our wedding rings
They forecast snow on the way
Just in time for Thanksgiving Day

The song is permeated with a feeling of stasis, oppressive and inevitable. Nothing’s moving here but the kids… and the oncoming snow will only serve to muffle everything and slow it down even further.

Out on the street some fool crashed
Drinking port wine and sour mash
That’s one man who can say
“No thanks, Thanksgiving Day.”

Then again, here’s a guy who hasn’t stopped moving. And he’s throwing up in the street. There are things to be said for being a homebody.

I’m bone weary, I’m bone-tired
The wood-stove’s last spark just expired
Dawn’s about one hour away
And it’s almost Thanksgiving Day.

The song ends on an almost hopeful note. The long night is nearly over, but Parker’s energy is waning with the stove’s heat. It appeals to the insomniac in me. Thanksgiving Day doesn’t seem to be about thanks, as Parker sings it here – in this last verse, it speaks to me about renewal. “Thanks for getting me through this,” it seems to imply. “Let’s take a deep breath before starting over.”

So maybe there’s a reason I listen to it in spring after all.

Rob

Axis of EVOO?

Do people who buy extra virgin olive oil get put on the terrorist watch list?

No extra virgins for me, thanks. I'm happy with my share.

Rob

Rhymes With Orange

Jon Hex is absolutely right: Sherin Nicole is awesome.

Rob

Someone Brought Donuts

Krispy Kremes, even. And there's free pizza for lunch. But I'm not touching any of it. I was up 0.2 pounds at the last meeting, and although I know i's only around 3 ounces, and I might have drank that much water on my way over, and considering the week I'd had (late night at a bar Thursday, Ortlieb''s Jazzhaus on Friday, and a complete undercounting of mooshoo pork on Saturday), I should be glad to be only up 0.2 pounds. But that doesn't mean I'm going to chuck this week away and eat a Krispy Kreme.

My beloved Krispy Kreme.

My precious.

No. No. No.

... no, dammit.

Rob

UPDATE: When I left work, there were Krispy Kreme donuts left behind--all because I hadn't done my part. This makes Iron Eyes Cody cry.

Talk at Work

You never know what's going to come up at work. This morning it was rat kings and musical theater. The bastard has the play by play.

Rob

I have to believe other people have done this exact same blog post.*

Everybody was kung-fu fighting

Hoo-ah!

Those cats were fast as lightning

Hoo-ah!

In fact it was a little bit frightening

Hoo-ah!

But they fought with expert timing

Hoo-ah!

Rob

*But I won't be able to think of anything else until I post it anyway.

Cake or Death?

Thanks to The Beat for pointing my peepers toward this video, a trailer for the long-sought PG version of 300.




Rob

"We seem to be made to suffer. It's our lot in life."

We’ve got birds. They’re in the air vent above our upper-story bathroom. One or two have nested there, and I think I hear chicks.

It’s weird enough, thinking that there are lifeforms in our air ducts, because I’ve seen enough action movies to know that they’re probably using them to bypass our security systems and either steal our secret plans or disable our tractor beam. But even stranger is the way they whistle and chirp in the morning. It’s like I’m showering with R2-D2.

Rob

Never Ever Gonna Quit

So the other day, I was listening to a deejay spin a lot of records at a family party. After a TON of Michael McDonald (no idea what was up with that, but he loved those McDonald sings Motown albums) he played a little Barry White. And I came to realize that I'd never really listened closely to the lyrics of "Never Gonna Give You Up" before. Here's the chorus:

"I never, never gonna give you up
I'm never, ever gonna stop
Stop the way I feel about you
Girl I just can't live without you"

Which is all well and good. And sexy, which is the main thing. But then we get to...

"I'm never ever gonna quit
'Cause quitin' just ain't my schtick"

Hold on--schtick? Schtick? I thought I heard it wrong, but I checked it later with my wife, and then online. He goes from Barry White, king of sexy, all of a sudden to Shecky Greene, Old Jewish Comedian. And it works, is the craziest thing. Barry sells it, and he sells it sexy. But I had to wonder: Who the hell had the stones to ask Barry White to sing "schtick"?

A quick look at allmusic.com reveals "Never Gonna Give You Up" (the relevant version, that is) was written by... none other than Barry White himself.

Who else could get him to say "schtick"? No one else would dare ask.

So therefore...

Barry White... you're the first inductee into the...

Heroes of Vocabulary!

Yes, every now and then, if I find an unusual word in a song lyric that stands out like a sore thumb but works anyway, the lyricist will be inducted into this august group. I'm looking at you, Rick Springfield.

So congratulations, Barry. You've earned it...because quittin' ain't your schtick.

Rob

Another Update

I weighed in tonight and found I'd lost another 5.4 pounds. That's 12, total. I'm collapsing in on myself like a dying star!

Don't expect such quick updates on the bad news, when it comes 'round.

Rob

R.I.P., Calvert DeForest

Mark Evanier notes the passing of Calvert DeForest, the man who was better known to late-night fans as Larry "Bud" Melman. And he includes a YouTube video of him in action, greeting people and passing out hot towels at the NY Port Authority bus depot in 1983. It had me in stitches.

Thanks, Calvert. Thanks, Larry "Bud".

Rob

Faithful

Solace in Cinema presents a look at shots from Zach Snyder’s 300 pulled directly from Frank Miller’s graphic novel. Check it out.

Rob

"Tonight We Dine In Hell!"

My brother’s fiancée’s bridal shower was Sunday. What better time to for the guys to go see 300?

It’s a hell of a movie: Stunning to look at, absolutely gorgeous in its depiction of slow-motion violence and bloodshed. It’s very faithful to Frank Miller’s graphic novel in that regard. The costume and armor designs are drawn from Miller’s pages, and they look great on film.

It’s a phenomenal, dazzling spectacle. Here: The Spartans march, a mere fraction of their army. Here: The Persian “Immortals” approach, fearsome in their silver masks. Here: They clash in blood and dirt, with no-nonsense slashes and brutal thrusts. Every combat brings something new. And if it seems a bit like a video game, with each wave of villains more terrible than the last, it doesn’t detract too much from the horrible beauty of the dance.

The characters have little depth, but the script doesn’t call for much. It isn’t a movie for thinking; it’s a movie for feeling. A subplot with Leonidas’ wife left a bad taste in my mouth; if I recall the book correctly, it was added for the movie. It’s an attempt to add politics to the film, but the Spartan politicians are an unsubtle bunch. They’re better on the battlefield.

300 is a better movie to look at than to watch. But make no mistake, it is a joy to look at.

Rob

Since 2003

Thank God we were greeted as liberators. Otherwise we'd still be Iraq.

Rob

Stardust

This will probably be pulled from YouTube before too long, so watch it quick. Here's a trailer of the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Stardust, complete with Russian subtitles (the trailer hasn't been released over here, and probably not over there, but that's where this is from). And while no one gets a prosthetic machine-gun leg, I can't think of anything else wrong with the what we see here.

(The trailer was pulled, so I deleted the big useless YouTube box.)

Rob

Use the Do-Do-Wap, Luke!

I’ve been listening to a lot of Curtis Mayfield lately. Great seventies funk and soul – perfect for walking around the city, because it’s the sort of music that was playing in the movies and TV shows that were my first exposure to NYC when I was a kid. “Move On Up” and “(If there’s a Hell Below) We’re All Gonna Go” are righteous and fine, giving me a great groove as I walk through Koreatown toward my train.

But the one song that’s been revolving in my earbuds lately is called “Do Do Wap is Strong in Here.” The thing is, though – just the title of the song reminds me of Star Wars, and Dath Vader saying “The Force is strong with this one.” So here’s a short list of Star Wars quotes, had George Lucas taken the wiser course and called the Force by its rightful name, the Do-Do-Wap.

The Do-Do-Wap is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.

A tremor in the Do-Do-Wap. The last time I felt it was in the presence of my old master.

The Do-Do-Wap can have a strong influence on the weak-minded.

I felt a great disturbance in the Do-Do-Wap, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.

Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, and I've seen a lot of strange stuff. But I've never seen anything to make me believe that there's one all-powerful Do-Do-Wap controlling everything.

Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed; the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Do-Do-Wap.

Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Do-Do-Wap, and a powerful ally it is.

Yes, a Jedi's strength flows from the Do-Do-Wap. But beware of the dark side. Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Do-Do-Wap are they.

Rob
(May the Do-Do-Wap be with you.)

By the way...

...I'm absolutely loving watching another Bush crony twist as more and more dirty dealings are exposed.

Is anyone surprised?

Rob

In Case You're Wondering...

Down 6.6.

I don't expect to repeat a jump like that, but it is heartening.

Rob

Leaving Schools Behind

Kevin Drum has a really perceptive blog post about No Child Left Behind. It’s short, and definitely worth a read.

UPDATE: He follows it up here and here and here. Busy guy.

Rob

How Should I Shake That?

Now that Penn Radio is off the air, I’ve been listening to the Bone Conduction Music Show a bit more. Thayrone spins ‘em like no one else, and man, do I hear a lot of great music there.

Most recently, he just completely amped up my respect for Little Richard. Not only did he close the hour with a great old song called “Cherry Red,” but he played a LR tune called “Jenny, Jenny.” Here’s a sample verse:

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny
spinnin' like a spinnin' top
Jenny, Jenny, Jenny
Spinnin' like you ain't gonna stop
The greatest little momma
You oughta see her reel and rock

Fine enough, and you know Little Richard is gonna give it energy. But then consider this: between every couplet, he also sings, “Jenny Jenny! (wooo!) Jenny Jenny!” What gets me is the speed that he switches back and forth between singing Jenny’s name and that high falsetto whoop, and back again. Just try to sing along with the song – even if you can’t hit the note (I sure as hell can’t), you probably won’t even be able to make the switch. It’s uncanny. The man’s a fireball.

And then there’s Sam Cooke. In the same hour, Thayrone played a Cooke tune called “Shake,” a dance-instructional song that included these magic lyrics:

Shake it like a bowl of soup
And make your body loop de loop

…um, Sam? Who the hell shakes a bowl of soup? Great music, but try a little harder on the words, baby.

Rob

Richard Jeni, RIP

Comedian Richard Jeni died this weekend, apparently by his own hand. He was a funny guy, and brought a little more light into the world than he found here. Here's a clip of a recent special to remember him by.



Rob

Secret of the "Surge"

This is awful, if true. Salon reports that we’re sending injured soldiers back to Iraq.

Rob

Paging Dr. Girlfriend

Good news from The Beat. Venture Bros. Season Three is in the works, and Season Four has been greenlit. Go Team Venture!

Rob

So.

I joined a cult.* What did you do today?

Rob

*It's the inimitable KTBuffy who calls it a cult. Nonetheless, I am imitating her. Poorly, I might add, though that pretty much goes without saying.

Genius, Sir.

I’d never heard of it until I read part of an interview at the Newsarama blog, but check out Nicholas Gurewitch’s comic strip, The Perry Bible Fellowship. There’s no continuity, so just start with one of my favorites (say, this one) and then just keep hitting random. Oddball fun.

Rob

News That Will Horrify My Wife

It's one more thing for me to laugh hysterically at while she wonders what she ever saw in me: Variety is reporting that the cavemen from the Geico ads are being developed for a sitcom on ABC.

The frustration that guy feels -- the fruitless battle for respect. It kills me. Every. Single. Time.

(Yes, I'm kind of ashamed.)

Rob

Take Me to the River

Jack of Diamonds
Jack of Diamonds, oh yeah
Jack of Diamonds is a hard card to find...

So... where have I been?

Vegas, baby. My friend Jeff and I headed out there for a mid-week weekend, and really made the most of it. We saw some magic shows, ate at some great restarants, and gambled our fool heads off. And the best part? We each won a poker tournament.

Now, Jeff's a good poker player -- he'd been practicing for years, and deserved his win. My win was more a fluke than anything else. Certainly it was as much luck as skill (It'd put the mix at 70-30 luck, at least), and it helped that it was a small tourney. The Paris poker room has a tournament every odd hour on the half hour (1:30, 3:30, 5:30, etc.), 24 hours a day. I'd played (and lost) in a few of them the day before, and wasn't planning to play in the 11:30 am one, but I noticed it was a small tourney (there wound up being 11 players; I think Jeff bested 19 in his win) and decided to enter (the entry fee is $65). Winner got 70% of the take (after fees and the casino's cut), and 2nd place got 30%.

It helps to start the tournament with pocket aces (what'd I say about luck?). I didn't get a lot of money out of it, but it gave me a slight chip lead right off the bat and made me comfortable in passing up questionable hands. I folded a lot of hands, playing really tight. And mostly, I let the other players take each other out of the game, but occasionally I won some decent hands, regaining the chip lead by the end of the game.

Finally it came down to three of us: me, my friend Jeff and another player. Jeff was the short stack (but wasn't in dire straits yet) and the other player had a decent amount, but less than me. I had an Ace-Jack, and thought it was a pretty decent hand. After what I thought was a pretty aggressive bet, the other guy went all-in. Then Jeff went all-in, too.

I probably should have stayed out of it. If the other guy won, Jeff would be out and I'd be in the money. If Jeff won, the other guy would be short-stacked and most likely out soon. And if they were both all-in, at least one of them was confident of their hand.

But I didn't think of all that. What I thought was that, whatever happened, I had the chip lead, and would still be alive after the hand. If I won, I'd win it all, and if the other guy won the hand, Jeff would be out and I'd be in the money. If both Jeff and the other guy beat me, I'd be pretty much hosed, but might be able to make a play if I got good cards. So I went all in.

My ace-jack was the worst hand on the table. The guy turned over pocket queens, and Jeff flipped pocket kings. It all came down to the community cards.

The flop gave me another jack, and some other stuff of no consequence. So I had a pair too, but the low pair. I needed an ace or another jack to win, while avoiding a king or queen, which would clinch it for one of them.

Nothing came up on the turn...and then the river gave me another jack. The Jack of Diamonds, which as any bluesman knows, is a hard card to find. A last-minute victory by the skin of my teeth -- it was like being Maverick.

Man, I'm flyin' high. Anyone wanna play?

Rob

The Shortest Distance Between Two Points

So last night, I was hailing a cab to go into Hell’s Kitchen to meet a friend at a bar (more on that later). A woman was also hailing a cab on the same street, and even though there was some distance between where we were heading, she suggested we share it. Sounded good to me, as cabs weren’t that easy to find.

Riding uptown, she asked what I did for a living. I told her I was an editor, and asked her the same. She said, and I quote: “I’m in ladies’ intimate apparel.”

“Oh, really?”

Sadly, that was the best I could come up with – “Oh really,” with a little bit of insinuendo spinning on it. Immediately afterward, I thought of better responses:

“Under all that, you mean?”

“Must be chilly in this weather.”

Or, my personal fave,

“What a coincidence – so am I.”

So Barbara, wherever you are, good luck on your trip to Milwaukee to sell lingerie and pajamas to Target. But most of all, thanks for sharing a cab with me. We went a little out of my way, but that was still one hell of a straight line.

Rob

Math/Life

I heard about this blog on the Penn show. Jessica Hagy uses math constructs (graphs, Venn diagrams, and the like) to comment on society, most important, make some very funny jokes. All on index cards, scanned for her blog: Indexed.

It's really clever stuff.

Rob

Sometimes, on message boards...

I'm tempted to argue with people. Particularly on the Newsarama boards, which I try to avoid, but am sometimes drawn to like a moth on crack to an LED crackpipe. I start to fire off a scathing rebuttal about something or other, and then, if I have my wits about me, I pause.

Take a deep breath.

And look at the other user's profile.

Usually, I find that the idiot I wanted to put a rhetorical hurtin' on is just a kid. Twenty-three* seems to be the age of most folks that rile me. And a hard-headed 23-year-old is just not worth arguing with. Talk about a waste of energy.

It's hard to remember, in the age of avatars and internet handles, that not everyone is in your peer group. And even more important than remembering that you don't have all the answers, is this: Even when you do, there's no reason you have to share 'em with halfwits.

Rob
(Making grudging peace with the fact that at my age, a 23-year-old is now "just a kid.")

Let the Good Times Roll

A few hours from now, our Mardi Gras party begins. We've been planning, preparing, and cooking all week (and longer). Not much time for blogging. But in the spirit of the day, I wanted to make sure the Mardi Gras cry was heard by one and all:



Um...?

Rob

Not Safe For Work

In booking a trip to Vegas, I went to type Ballys.com into my browser top check out room rates. But thanks to my typo-prone fingers, I entered Balls.com.

I've no idea where the url leads -- I closed my browser window before any non-work-safe content could register. For all I know it's a sporting-goods website... but I wouldn't count on it.

Rob

Like this.

This just flat-out makes me feel good: The Arrow of Time.

Rob
(like I said, a lot of linkblogging.)

Rejected!

I've just installed Stumbleupon, so expect a lot of linkblogging in the immediate future.

This, I think, is cool as poop.

Rob

Food Fight!

Jim the Bastard turned me on to this: Anthony Bourdain watches the Food Network. And blogs about it. It ain’t pretty.

Rob

Overheard at Hanley's

The comics shop around the corner from work, Jim Hanley's Universe, displays statues and busts of various comics and sci-fi related characters in the windows. A statue of the Flash, the Hammer of Thor, a bust of Luke Skywalker, that sort of thing.

So I was at the register today, buying my comics, when a customer walks in, asking about some of the displayed merchandise: "How much is that Alien in the window?"

The one with the waggily tail?

Rob

Mooninite Invasion

Rob

Pants-Man!

In honor of my nephew T-Bone, who should be starting potty training soon: an instructional video from Japan.



Save us, Pants-Man!

Rob

Horrible News

The Washington Post is reporting that police have found the car Rachel Crites and Rachel Smith left with, in Loudoun County. Two bodies, as yet unidentified, were found within, dead of an apparent suicide.

My heart goes out to the families of both girls, in the face of this devastating news.

Rob

UPDATE: The girls have been identified; it's them. Again, my condolences.

Catwoman Sings!

I haven't posted for a few days, and frankly, don't have much I feel like saying right now. So I'll let this song I'd never heard before, sung by Eartha Kitt, entertain you while I'm keeping mum.



Thanks to Douglas at 52 Pickup for bringing it to my attention.

Rob

You Know You Want To

Mark Evanier has the details of this, the most holy of days.

Rob

Rachel Crites & Rachel Smith

I'm leaving this post (from January 22) at the top of the page for the next week or so. Scroll down for newer entries.

My friend asked me to post this here. His boss's 18-year old daughter Rachel Crites took off in the family car with her friend Rachel Smith (16) on the night of January 19th, and haven't been seen since. Their families is trying to reach them and authorities are concerned for the girls' mental state.

Here's are pictures of the two girls, and a link to the story on the WTOP website.
Rachel Crites is on the left, Rachel Smith is on the right.

Anyone with information about the location of either girl is asked to call the Montgomery County Police non-emergency telephone number at (301) 279-8000 or the Family Crimes Division at (240) 773-5400.

I hope these families are safely reunited soon.

Rob

Respooling

A couple of strategically placed days off gave me a long weekend this week, and looking back, I don’t really have any complaints about how I spent my time. One thing I did, which I don’t make a habit of, was to watch a few movies I’ve already seen. I don’t revisit stuff often – and even less often just for myself. Sometimes I’ll watch a movie again with Kathy to see what she thinks of it, but that experience is different than just going back to the movie itself, just me and it. And, because I got my guitar out of the shop all stringed and ready to go, and because I can’t play worth a damn, going back to some old favorites seemed like a good way to pass the time while I taught my fingers some scales. (As it turns out, yes and no: my fingers caught on, a little bit, but I eventually just put the guitar down and watched.)

The first movie of the bunch was The Incredibles. This is a 2-DVD set, and I’ve yet to go deeper into it than the movie itself, but I will. I’d seen it in the movie theatre, and remember being impressed with it. I also remember being exhausted and dozing off for a stretch. It turns out that stretch was considerable – there are scenes that I didn’t remember at all, and others that were put into much sharper context. It’s interesting – some of the story is presented almost as if Mr. Incredible is cheating on his wife. He isn’t, of course, but at the same time is hiding the renewed thrill he’s getting from his return to crimefighting. It’s an interesting conflict, and well-resolved, I think. I’m also very sympathetic to Dash’s sentiments that “If everyone’s special, no one is.” Overall, it’s a really good movie. (But as friends have pointed out, not appropriate for really young kids, as it gets pretty scary.)

The second film of the bunch (and one of my favorites of all time) was Miller’s Crossing. Looking back on it, it seems of a piece with the Coen brothers’ work in its totality, but at the time, I think they’d only done Blood Simple (which I hadn’t yet seen) and Raising Arizona (which is as wacky as it gets). Consequently, no one really knew what to make of this when it came out…but man, is it good. Like the Continental Op in Dashiell Hammett’s Red Harvest, Gabriel Byrne’s Tom Regan lets a gang war blossom around him – only unlike the Op, Regan has a rooting interest in Leo (Albert Finney), the tough-nosed political boss he’s been advising for years. But Leo’s getting soft, and rival boss Caspar (Jon Polito, Homicide’s Detective Crossetti) is getting stronger by the day. The plot is complicated, as good noir always is, and it’s not made any easier by the dense gangland jargon: “What’s the rumpus?” “Take your flunky and dangle.” This is a beautiful, brutal film, and its rewards are many.

The final movie I revsited was Heist, a David Mamet film starring Gene Hackman, Delroy Lindo (who is so much cooler than most movies he’s in), the inimitable Ricky Jay (I will watch anything with Jay), Danny DeVito, Sam Rockwell and Rebecca Pidgeon (Mamet’s wife, who’s a regular in his movies. Her performance in The Spanish Prisoner still has me saying “Crikey” every now and then). Like Miller’s Crossing, a lot of Heist’s charm is in its stylish dialogue. Jay gets most of the best lines: “He’s so cool, when he sleeps, sheep count him.” and a great little rant about how it’s okay to rob the Swiss because he hates their clocks. But in watching Heist again, I noticed that the actual Heist sequence is wordless for a few minutes, as Hackman and Lindo communicate only in gestures. This, I now realize, is a homage to Rififi, a French film that’s the prototypical heist movie (a remake of which, I now discover on IMDB, currently in production as an Al Pacino vehicle). Rififi’s heist sequence runs 32 minutes without a line of dialogue or music. I doubt the remake will be so daring – and with Mamet on script (and directing), I can’t even imagine anyone trying with Heist. Thirty-two minutes without a completed sentence, maybe.

One other thing: There’s a moment in Heist, early on, when Rebecca Pidgeon is wearing short little cut-offs. The camera briefly lingers on her as she walks away, and you are for a moment absolutely certain that David Mamet loves his wife’s butt. Who says there’s nothing sweet about lechery?

Rob

Sin City Hearts Sin City

Take a look at the Las Vegas Police Department's new recruiting website. Look familiar?


Rob

My Amazing Brother

Here he is, having a chat with Archbishop Desmond Tutu.


This looks like it was taken at some sort of book signing, but since they're on the same cruise ship for a week, I'm betting Jim will be having dinner with him one of these days. Because somehow, He Can Do Anything. (I wish I knew how that worked.)

Rob

South Park Superfriends

It's hard for me to see this and not smile.



Rob

You Have My Attention

Someone at the Village Voice really wanted me to pick up this issue. Not just everybody, but me in particular.


One of my favorite comedians? Check.

Comic book reference? Check.

Promise of said comedian's boobies? Check. (This was a dirty lie, by the way.)

There's really not much more they could have done.

(Here's the Silverman interview if you want to read it.)

Rob

So. Big News.

It’s been announced that the magazine company I work for has been sold to a Swedish publishing/media outfit. I think it’s a good move – they really seem to want us, and our present owners never really knew what to do with us.

And that’s as far into work-related matters as I get on this blog. Except…

Our new owners have their fingers in a lot of entertainment pies. (As an aside, I dreamt about blueberry pie for the second time in two nights last night. Something must be done about this.) One of them is Tuba Records. Looking over the names of recording artists on their website includes some recognizable names, like Sleater Kinney, Eva Cassidy and Mudhoney, but then there’s some names that leapt out at Kathy and me as we scrolled through the list. Bands like:

13 & God

Chicks on Speed & the Noheads

Deathbreath

General Patton vs. X-ecutioners

Grimfist

Jessica Fletchers

Made Out of Babies

Reverend Bizarre

And (my personal favorite)…

I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness

Even better, they’ve got an mp3 radio player on their site, which includes an instrumental version of the Spider-Man theme by a band called Ugress. It’s pretty groovy, to be honest.

I think this is gonna work out just fine.

Rob

Maybe I should see a shrink

Because, man, I've got rage.

It's usually road rage, just shouting at some schmuck who can't hear me and doesn't care. Usually the only person who hears it is Kathy, and I'm going to try to avoid that in the future, because the last time really freaked me out. I just shouted something really suddenly, then just as suddenly realized how startling it must have been and spent the rest of the drive apologizing. She doesn't need to be put through that.

After all, what else are blogs for?

So I'm on the train from New York to New Jersey, and this guy--this bag of crap in a suit--keeps yammering on his cell phone right behind me. Like a lot of people on cell phones, he's got no indoor voice. And I'm trying to read, and I can't concentrate one bit. And it's not like I'm reading Paradise Lost or anything -- it's just the new issue of Robin. And if I can't YAP YAP YAP concentrate enough YAP YAP to make sense of even YAP YAP YAP YAP the latest adventure of YAP YAP YAP the Boy goddamn Wonder YAP YAP YAP it means you're talking right in my goddamn ear, you prick!

I swear, I'd kill a stranger a day if I could be bothered with the cleanup.

NOTE: My attorney advises me that I should assure readers that I am just kidding about the last sentence. He claims the phrase "I swear" is legally binding, depite the fact that I have not specified exactly what or who I am swearing to. I assured him that as I wrote the sentence, my non-typing fingers were crossed, rendering the final statement, including the swear, non-binding, in my understanding of the law. He agreed, although he pointed out that it would be a different matter entirely had I said "pinkie-swear." Which any idiot knows.

Rob

Funny You Never Heard Of It

There's a lot of funny shows out there these days. NBC has revived their Thursday night lineu with My Name Is Earl, The Office, Scrubs and 30 Rock. The Daily Show and The Colbert Report are still firing on all cylinders, too. And while I don't watch every episode, Reno 911 always gives me a few laughs. And then, tonight, there's some comedy special called The State of the Union, hosted by a man some say is the finest comic mind since Bob Newhart. No one does "befuddled" like Bush. Oh, the comedy. (His helmet and shouldermapads line is sure to get a standing O from both sides of the aisle. Guy's a riot.)

But this isn't about taking a cheap shot at the leader of the free world as we blindly hurtle into the abyss. Far from it. This is about recommending a funny, funny show that you've probably never heard of: Talkshow with Spike Feresten.

It's a half-hour talk show with oddball sketch/reality comedy and one interview segment. The episodes I've seen have had Tom Green and Carl Reiner as guests, and both have been teriffic. (I say this as a fan of Reiner and as someone who's never really cared for Green.) The taped comedy segments include things like Idiot Paparazzi (in which photogs chase after regular folks shouting the names of celebrities they vaguely resemble) and Comedy for Stoners (different every time, but essentially completely silly stuff that if you saw it when stoned you would laugh about for a week). Then there are some live in-studio routines, and some fake commercials, such as this one for Pitters Beer.



It's a half-hour show, on Saturdays at midnight on Fox. It goes head-to-head against Saturday Night Live, and consistently delivers more laughs. What's more—and I have no idea why this is—I feel better about the jokes on Talkshow. Feresten is a genial, engaging host, and his humor doesn't travel that same well-worn road of most SNL sketches (or, to be honest, Daily Show-type topical humor). If anything, Feresten gives me the impression of the early years of Letterman. He's goofy and gregarious, and wants everyone to be in on the joke.

Give him a try. I bet you'll wind up laughing too.

Rob

The Dude Abides

Kathy got a call from the vet. The Dude made it though surgery and has come out from under the anesthesia just fine. All is well.

UPDATE: The Dude seems really tired out from surgery, but should be fine.

Rob

Crossing My Fingers

One of our ferrets, The Dude, is in surgery right now to have a hairball removed. He should be fine; our vet is a good one, and has done many procedures on Kathy's previous ferrets. But I can't help buy be a little jumpy nonetheless. And I feel bad for the guy, to have a shaved belly when winter's finally getting cold.

He can handle it, though. The Dude abides.

Rob

Children of Men

Last weekend, I saw my first movie of the year...and it very well might be the best one I'll see this year, too. Children of Men is an incredible piece of work. Set 20 years in the future, it posits what the world will be like if, through some reason beyond explanation, women around the world stopped being able to bring their babies to term, and soon could not concieve altogether. Consequently, humanity seems unable to pull back from its mistakes. Wars, once started, continue indefinitely. Refugees are sent to prison camps and ghettoes. In the abscense of a generation to follow, humanity goes for broke. It's the endgame, and seen from above it looks like the swirl of a flushing toilet.

To underscore the point (and to provide valuable exposition), the film opens with news reports of the murder of Baby Diego, who gained unwanted celebrity by virtue of being the world's youngest person. He was 18. The situation allows the film to impart a lot of information quickly, as newcasters offer retrospectives of Baby Diego and his significance. A lesser film would have given us this information in a voiceover or a screen crawl; Children of Men does it with grace.

The film is based on a novel by P.D. James, but I don't want to say too much about the plot. The acting, from all comers, is superb. Clive Owen plays a former idealist turned office drone who is suddenly and irrevocably thrust into water way over his head. Julianne Moore is excellent as a quiet and firm revolutionary leader. Michael Caine is charming as Owen's aging political cartoonist/neo-hipppie friend. And newcomer Claire-Hope Ashitey is excellent as Kee, whose prescence drives the film.

The film is haunting and thought-provoking, and the world it depicts is one not easily forgotten. I can't recommend it highly enough.

Rob

What You Need (Or Have)

I was visiting some friends last night, and learned that neither of them had seen this terrific commercial featuring Bruce Campbell. Have you?



Enjoy!

Rob

Are You Covered?

Here's a link to one of my favorite SNL commercials. Wish I could embed it, but they've got that turned off for this.

So without further adieu: Old Glory Insurance.

UPDATE: Found an embed, and with better video quality, too.



Rob

Overheard on NJTransit

Stealing a page from the Bastard, a snatch of dialogue from my commute:

"You know I'm a big computer geek, but for some reason I can't play Foosball."

Um... am I missing something?

Rob

Bangers & Mash

So I'm listening to a radio report this morning about a new law that takes effect today in Bangor, Maine, making it illegal to smoke in your car if there's someone under 18 in it. I don't particularly want to get into the ins and outs of the law, though -- I'm more concerned with the radio reporter's herculean effort to pronounce "Bangor" so that it didn't sound like "banger." Or even worse, "bang 'er," which I'm not sure you're even allowed to say on NPR. The syllables were stressed so unnaturally that the city sounded like a Jack Kirby creation: Bangorr, the Thunderer from Beyond Time, or something like that.

Beware Bangorr, the Thing that Walks!

Rob

Escute

Listen.

I visited Sushi Samba's website earlier tonight, and rediscovered a song I haven't heard in years. (Sushi Samba is a terrific sushi/Brazilian restaurant in NYC, btw.) The restaurant's website features a number of playlists, so I can direct you exactly to the song. First, go to sushisamba.com. Then click on the "select a compilation" option, and choose "Nightlife." Then pick track four, "Ponta de Lanca Africano," by Jorge Ben. It's also called "Umbabarauma," and it's catchy as all-get-out.

Then, as an added treat, check out Breath of Life, a blog-post remeniscence (and an explanation) about the song.

Enjoy.

Rob

Show Done

For me, at least. Cept some wrapup tomorrow.

Ahhhh....

Rob

Stolen Moments

Just have a few moments to blog at El Big Gun Show. But so far, I've drank a bit, gone up to a gun pro's hotel room to see a handgun he built (which was cool and surreal, but I got a little nervos when he loaded it to show us how it loaded), and had a long-ass delay at the airport, and had a fat steak of the kind that lesser cows can only dream about. Not in that order. Busy busy busy, that's me. If you want to know more, go to Being A Bastard Works in the blogroll -- I got no time to link!

And as Mike says, "We ate a lobster tail that was like the Kraken."

Tonight, party at Pat O'Brien's in Universal City. Open bar, tomfoolery. Someone's passing out.

More later, ya maroons.

Rob

I Go For Penguins

You need to see this, film buffs.

Rob

Takin' a Trip

Jim the Bastard has the scoop on the pre-gun show prep. Gaze in wide-eyed wonder, droogies. Gon’ be mulletastic!

Rob

Up Late...

...because I watched the tivoed Eagles game after taking down the Christmas tree. Tight game, but they started dominating as soon as they score their first TD, and even when it was tied at the end, they still seemed to be in the lead.

Go Eagles!

(God, I can't believe I'm saying this stuff. This just isn't me.)

Rob

Which American Accent Do You Have?

It was exactly right.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Philadelphia Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington. if you've ever journeyed to some far off place where people don't know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird even though they didn't have a clue what accent it was they heard.
The Midland
The Northeast
The South
The Inland North
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Rob

Grindhouse

April 6 is gonna be a banner day. Here's why.

No trailer has ever made me want to see a movie more.

Rob
(Not including the image I really want to use, because you should see it in the trailer first. But oh, man.)

Sick With Baby

In the comic shop today, I overhead that in the movie Pan’s Labyrinth, someone mentions morning sickness, which in the subtitles is translated “sick with baby.”

The phrase cracks me up. “Yeah, she was sick with baby for nine months, then in remission for the next 21 years.”

Rob

Sick With Baby

In the comic shop today, I overhead that in the movie Pan’s Labyrinth, someone says mentions morning sickness, which in the subtitles is translated “sick with baby.”

The phrase cracks me up. “Yeah, she was sick with baby for nine months, then in remission for the next 21 years.”

Rob

Old Scratch, Records

Okay, that video of Celene Dion was unnecessarily cruel. To make up for it, I bring you...


...the Devil!

Or rather, John Moe's 39 Questions for Charlie Daniels about "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," from McSweeney's magazine.

Thanks to Doc at the Comics Cave!

Rob