Wednesday, October 10, 2007
It's no surprise that Tyra Banks doesn't understand English, considering that she recently pronounced Asperger's Ahs-pur-jers and that when she had the opportunity to interview Barack Obama, she asked him if she and her mother could have a sleepover party in the Lincoln bedroom. I don't know why this woman is allowed to have multiple TV shows. The only useful thing she has ever done for my life was to give me a shade upon which to base my ultimate cup of coffee. ("Milk and sugar?" "Yeah, make it about Tyra color.")
The model wannabes are increasingly despicable as well, now mocking the disabled and each other's thigh fat (which: what fat??). The only two likeable girls are Heather, who has Asperger's (which: if that means not being able to relate to the other contestants, then I also have Asperger's) and Victoria, the awkward nerdy Yale student. I will watch tonight's episode because it's the makeover one, which is always my favorite, because it leaves me feeling immensely self-satisfied after I correctly predict who will cry at their new haircut.
House, meanwhile, was EXCELLENT last night, inducing Jeanette and I to cry over the clearly manipulative final dog scene. This season's format of auditioning new fellows, Survivor-style, is doing it for me, despite the fact that there's no suspense that Kal Penn's character will be hired. It's also looking like Foreman will return. He has never helped me with my coffee, but he is my favorite second banana character and there's a definite gap in the show without him.
Spoilery nitpick: no way would that dog have eaten the pills off the floor. Having cared for that man for so long, it certainly would have been trained to avoid spilled medication.
Also, as much as I love my cat, dogs > cats.
Monday, October 08, 2007
My grandpa and I watched quite a bit of television together while spending the weekend in the house in the Catskill region of NY that he built with his own two hands (I decided to give him credit for something since I am about to make him an honorary boobtuber without consent).
On this week's EXTREME MAKEOVER: HOME EDITION, Ty and the gang were helping out a family of five whose eight year old daughter was facing cancer for the second time. Their house was full of mold, fault wires, cracks etc.
Grandpa: What?! Why do these people need help?
Me: I think because of all the medical bills, they don't have the money to fix their house up.
Grandpa: Yeah, but she got sick two years ago? What about before then? This is bull shit. Isn't there anything else to watch?!
Thankfully, Bravo was airing a mini marathon of Law and Order: Criminal Intent, and we caught an episode with the illustrious Vincent D'Onofrio.
Grandpa: What's this guy's name?
Me: Vincent D'Onofrio or Detective Robert Goren
Grandpa: Huh, I thought it was Jesus Christ or something. Who knows this stuff? Who could figure this stuff out!?
Stick to NASCAR, gramps.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Aside from ending the longest reality show run in history, last night's TOP CHEF was very educational.
I learned that while Padma Lackshmi remains the hottest female specimen ever, she should stay away from live television. Bravo's got a dramatic eye in the editing room, and on the pre-recorded shows, Padma has always come off as suave and just an appropriate few notches below bitchy (they left the bitchy edits for Gail Simmons. Whew, someone has a horned cucumber up her butt). Last night, though, when Padma wasn't tripping over words, she spoke to the camera with the same juvenile inflections as Captain Kangaroo or something. I thought she was going to pull out a fake mirror and say she saw me, and Jimmy and Nancy or some shit...
I learned that women really can't be chefs! After giving little girls everywhere glimmers of hope, Casey really effed up in the final elimination challenge. Come on girl! You should have shown those dudes what you were made of! Displayed your womanly talents! Diced some garlic using kegal stretches or something. Man...
And finally, I learned that Marcel from season 2 and Hung must have met in Top Chef Assholes Anonymous and fallen deeply in love. All night, when the camera cut to Marcel, you saw this deep look in his eyes...like if things didn't go his way, he was going to press the button in his shoe causing this homemade explosive of baking soda and salmon flavored foam to go off. Then when Hung was announced as Top Chef, no joke, Marcel ran up to him SO FAST and was the FIRST ONE to embrace him. There were even points where Hung's mother was standing behind him like chopped lychee while Hung and Marcel embraced. Wasn't Hung allegedly doing all this for his mom? Maybe not because last week he said something about sleeping in the kitchen while he grew up...mom must be a hardass.
ANNNND my love affair with Kid Nation continues. As the show goes on, more kids are getting more face time, allowing me to find the town Jew. I KNEW there had to be one somewhere. His name is Eric, and I am sure he will be a usurer or something in no time.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Creative product placement is all the rage in the TV biz these days, what with the Internets taking over buyers' attention spans (way to generalize, Jeanette). Here are some gross offenders I have noticed over the past week...
Claire was SO THRILLED when Horn Rimmed Glasses gave her a car on the season preem of HEROES this past Monday. "Oh, Dad! The Rogue," she exclaimed, standing next to the black Nissan (R). Yes, every teenager's dream...a Nissan Rogue. I can't wait til these start appearing during the grand finales of MY SUPER SWEET SIXTEEN, right after Kanye West pops out of a cake and some marching band geeks are kicked out of the party. Catch this oh so genuine moment when the show is encored this Saturday, and catch the flack NBC is getting for combining the Nielsen ratings of both airings to inflate their success...
Dr. Gregory House munched on some CheezIts (R) during his latest illegal patient break in. Damn, that's it? CheezIts? If I knew Hugh Laurie was going to break into my house, I would have a platter of ME waiting, with a side of ME. And for dessert...ME. And then I would ask how he likes his eggs in the morning, and then make him a ME omlette.
In guilty pleasure news, I do believe I will remain a steady viewer of CBS' controversial KID NATION. This has a lot to do with Jared, a precocious 11 year old from Georgia. Kid is like a walking Bartlett’s! He has been known to spew such gems as, "I'm hungry, and as Martin Luther King Jr. said, I have a dream!" When debating whether or not to sacrifice chickens for the sake of protein, Jared had this to offer: "As William Shakespeare said, To kill or not to kill, that is the question."
When not hoping for Jared to enlighten me, I watch KID NATION to hear Laurel's accent. She must be the baby that Matt Damon's girlfriend was pregnant with in THE DEPARTED, because every time she speaks, it sounds like Boston is throwing up!
If you aren't in love with Jared and Laurel already, be sure to click the links to check out their profiles on CBS' website. Their most admired world leaders are George W. Bush and Jesus Christ respectively. THAT SHOULD SEAL THE DEAL FOR YOU!
What are your thoughts on the season so far, and more importantly, will Alanna ever post again?
Friday, September 21, 2007
Girl's got to have some smarts. I mean, she heads a multi billion dollar empire, has Emmys and an Oscar, and apparently makes the curriculum for all of South Africa.
But...today's Oprah is currently airing in the tri state area. For the first half of the show, Oprah interviewed intersex (aka the artists formerly known as hermaphrodites) people. Let's discuss her faux pas.
One, she high fived one of the first guests because it turned out she had a functioning and recognizable va-jayjay. And that is the word she used. Va-jayjay. I'll see you on the soup, insensitive Oprah clip mentioning va-jayjay.
Two, she goes to one of the other guests, "Are you gay?" Nice lead in, Oprah. You have the journalistic integrity and skill of a questioner during the Spanish Inquisition.
And then, after all that, Oprah had the energy to get on her high horse and ask a "question" to her medical expert that was something along the lines of, isn't it better to just accept people as they are instead of insisting they change? Of course, she got enthusiastic applause. But what was the medical expert going to say to that? No? Only if it turns out that the medical expert was Dr. Mengle in disguise.
Rosie, homegirl, thank goodness you didn't go anywhere near that show.
Stay tuned for riveting thoughts on the new television season, including the female reincarnation of JFK running the show on CBS' KID NATION!
Monday, August 27, 2007
However, had I not watched the pageant, I would not be able to share with you this fantastic clip. Feeling sluggish this Monday? Feel better in knowing that you will NEVER be more stupid than Miss South Carolina.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Becuase it's Friday and this head cold of mine is causing more tension than at a co-ed mixer between Camp Sunni and Camp Shiite, here's a mindless entry for you. Please enjoy this national commercial for viagra while asking yourself what. the. fuck.
*I understand no one cares, but don't I look important starting entries like we actually have an audience?
Monday, July 23, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
I guess there is at least one new idiot every year that gets his hand bitten off by a shark because he couldn't pass on a gnarly wave or something, so they can always count on some exciting piece where viewers can watch his hand being sewn back on. But really...that's about it. Call me when you do a profile of the Land Shark, Discovery Channel.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Just goes to show that David Boreanaz is a master fucking thespian considering what a nutcase he is in real life... still looks Cro-Mag though.
(I'm unemployed, hence my trolling YouTube for blooper reels from canceled TV shows. Hopefully soon I will be employed AND have something worthwhile to post about.)
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
For as long as I have been conscious, Pat Sajak has been the host of Wheel of Fortune. To me, a lifetime fan of syndicated game shows, he has served as a vanguard of comfort, a permanent, smiling fixture in the revolving door of TV personalities. He has stuck with The Wheel through its tough times. Remember in the early 80s when you did not win actual cash, but had to spend all accumlated cash in a gallery of crap-tastic prizes, including but not limited to ceramic statues of dalmatians? I do! He has stuck with The Wheel through the good times. Pat's got three Emmys for hosting and a star on the Hollywood walk of fame.
But Pat is so much more than hugs from overweight, midwestern contestants and all-inclusive trips to the Bahamas. As I recall, he has SHINED whenever filling in on Live with Regis and Kathie Lee/Kelly. He even had a taste of freedom when he hosted the short lived Pat Sajak Show for CBS, and again managed to pick through the cement wall with Pat Sajak Weekend for the Fox "News" Channel (see what I did there?!). However, the retractable umbilicle chord attaching him to The Wheel always manages to pull him back and away from the light.
Which brings me to last night's Wheel, a repeat of the first episode from its 24th season. There were not one, but two times where Pat let his guard down at looked at us, the viewers, with UTTER CONTEMPT. I can only assume Pat Sajak is not long for this world. That is why here at BoobTubers, I am starting the...
Pat Sajak Suicide Watch/Pool
Comment back with the exact date and year you think Pat will end it all, and if correct, you will, most definitely win a glorious prize.
In conclusion, here is a scene I wrote for mine and Alanna's opus, THIS SHOW BITES, a play documenting James Marsters' days at Juliard, featuring this relevant play within a play.
This Show Bites
Act I, Scene 6
The lights go up dimly to reveal a completely black environment, which is actually a stage. James sits on a stool centerstage, also dressed in black. As the lights go up, James looks up at theaudience.
Audience: A play within a play! MAAARVELOUS!
James: (dramatically) Intrigue...
A bongo drum is heard in the background.
James: Passion... Bravery... Justice... Brilliance... Charisma... Animal Attraction... I (pause)am Pat Sajak, and this (gestures to figures dressed completely in black modern dancing their way onto the stage) is my life and times.
The drums continue to play and James participates in a modern dance with the black figures during which they strike a different, limber pose for each drumbeat.
Black Figure 1: This is the second grade, Pat. What is a vowel? WHAT IS A VOWEL?
James: I don't know. I DON'T KNOW.
Figure 1: MY CURSE TO YOU IS THAT YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO ESCAPE VOWELS.
Black Figure 2 I am your illegitimate father, Pat. I am a carnie. Get on the ferris wheel. STAY ON THE FERRIS WHEEL!
James: WHY, GOD, WHY?!?!
Figure 2: MY CURSE TO YOU IS THAT THE WHEEL WILL EARN YOU YOUR BREAD!
Black Figure 3: I am your hairdresser, Pat. I will tease your hair. I WILL TEASE YOUR HAIR!
James: SWEET GOD, I HAVE A COIF!
Figure 3: MY CURSE IS THAT NO WIND, NO RAIN, NO LOVER'S GRASP WILL RELEASE YOUR HAIR FROM ITS POSE!
James: The vowels...the wheel... the HAIR. I can't do it, but I must. I embrace my calling...I am the host of a syndicated game show...
All black figures: (starting softly and increasing in volume until they are shouting) Free spin, bankrupt, LOSE A TURN. Free spin, bankrupt, LOSE A TURN. Free spin, bankrupt, LOSE A TURN!
All fall flat on the stage. The drums stop and the lights go out.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
There goes my Heros drinking game of taking a shot every time Peter Patrelli pushes the hair out of his face.
How will they explain this in season two? Was his hair singed off in the nuclear explosion above the skies of midtown Manhattan? Was the explosion all a ploy, and Nathan actually flew Peter to a Lemon Tree in Weehawken, New Jersey? Did Claire offhandedly mention that she would never date anyone with man bangs, even her very own Uncle Boyfriend?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Click play and watch Hillary reveal the winning choice for her campaign song/her sense of humor
An enjoyable side of Hillary...but this works on many levels...
1) This is an interesting play on the fact that she and Bill could ACTUALLY BE WACKSASSINATED!
2) Wasn't Bill an extra at Bada Bing this past season? Chappaqua isn't that far away...
Monday, June 18, 2007
Vincent Chase's acting as seen in the dailies is craptacular. But still not as craptacular as Turtle's. Turtle reached new levels of suckiness as he had to act candid for the documentary on the making of Medellin. I stand by my suggestion that HBO branch out into reality television for a show called Acting School in which Jerry Ferrera and Jamie-Lynn Siegler go to, well, acting school. Because they suck.
Fellow tuber Alanna speculated that this documentary we watched was going to end up being something along the lines of Lost in La Mancha, documenting the downward spiral of Medellin. I, for one, think Medellin is going all the way. Ryan Seacrest interviewing Vincent Chase on the Oscars red carpet would be ratings gold.
And finally, most importantly, confirm or deny: Adrian Grenier/Vince in full Pablo Escobar makeup is a dead ringer for Andy Kaufman's alter ego Tony Clifton.
Friday, June 15, 2007
I've always found enjoyment in introducing someone to a TV show (or book, even) that I love. My parents, with all their idiosyncrasies, make this experience an especially fulfilling one. Below, please find some actual conversations I have had with my parents about season 1 of Lost.
Me: Who is your favorite character?
Mom: I like John Locke a lot. We just watched the episode with the Asians.
Me: You mean Jin and Sun?
Mom: I hate the husband!
Me: Oh, he gets better. Who else do you like?
Dad: What's up with the monster?
Me: Have you seen Locke's flashback yet?
Dad: Is the monster in it?
While watching "The Moth," Charlie's first flashback episode
Mom: Why does he keep asking Locke for his drugs? He's just going to run out anyway.
Me: Yeah, that's something you know a lot about. What a bummer it is when the drugs run out.
Mom: Oh look! He threw the drugs in the fire.
Me: Don't cry.
While watching "Confidence Man," Sawyer's first flashback episode
Me: Hot. So hot.
Dad: His body is weird.
Me (grudgingly): Yeah, he does kind of have that sloping shoulders thing.
Mom: I hate that. I don't like him anymore.
Me: Oh, it's Sayid! Do you guys like Sayid?
Dad: Haha, I love when Sawyer calls him "Abdul!"
Me: That's... that's racist.
Hopefully, there will be much more to come.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
“It was a question of loyalty to viewer expectations, as against loyalty to the internal coherence of the materials. Mr. Chase’s position was loyalty to the internal dynamics of the materials and the characters."
Tim Kring, Heroes showrunner, said he found “the storytelling in the finale a bit disjointed, so that you lost the cause and effect of some scenes.”
I'm not surprised that the creator of a show featuring some of the most wooden characters and unnatural dialog I've witnessed doesn't understand how David Chase structures his show. I've noticed that often in the The Sopranos, the consequences of a scene do not surface immediately; characters are not always aware of their own reactions to events, which may manifest in unexpected times and places. They're psychologically complex, sometimes as mysterious to us as they are to themselves. In this way, The Sopranos is like real life.
And the ending was like real life, too, in that it doesn't stop with a shattering climax; it simply... goes on.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Primetime Battle of the Tonys- The Sopranos finale dukes it out airing against The 61st Annual Tony Awards
::Ding:: Round 1 - Suspense
If one thing can be said for The Sopranos swan song, it is that it kept viewers on the edge of their seats. Everyone had such blood-thirsty expectations that every time Tony crunched on an al dente piece of ziti, we were all quivering and peering to see where the bullet came from. David Chase exploited our nail nibbling, depends desiring selves with what, in retrospect, I think was directing brilliance. While I could have asked for a better soundtrack (Really? We had to listen to 80 percent of a Journey song to end the series forever?), Chase showed the Soprano nuclear unit gathering, one by one, almost in slow motion. Each person passing in a car while Meadow parallel parked like she was Uncle Junior, or each person on their way to the restroom was given just enough camera time to make us think they were going to be the gunman that ended it all. That nervousness that we felt for just 5 minutes is what the Soprano clan can expect for the rest of their lives.
Meanwhile, at the Tonys Spring Awakening and The Coast of Utopia won a combined 15 out of 25 awards. Duh. Zero suspense.
ROUND ONE THE SOPRANOS!
::Ding:: Round 2- General Entertainment Value
For the male members of my dictionary definition, blue collar, New York suburban family who have watched The Sopranos religiously for doses of machismo and titties at Bada Bing, perhaps watching Phil Leotardo's head get squished by an SUV was entertaining. I covered my eyes.
Good old Uncle Paulie, however, did not disappoint. In my opinion, his visit to the kids table at dinner (where he unbottoned his pants) and claims to have seen the Virgin Mary at the Bing were priceless.
The Tonys gave America the chance to fall in love with Christine Ebersole's Little Edie as she serenaded us with "Revolutionary Costume." The Tonys let an even wider
audience of America's youth move on from Rent as they saw the magic of Spring Awakening. And it was so. rewarding. to see an obviously shocked and touched David Hyde Pierce win the Tony for his role in Curtains. He thanked his partner of 24 years, which I am pretty sure he did each time he won Emmys...yet he was only openly gay as of last week. Please. Maybe David can give some advice to poor, little Mark Indelicato who has been turned into a gay icon before he has even finished puberty. Inappropriate much?
But I digress. The Tonys were a thrill and a half and chock full of beautiful moments.
ROUND TWO THE 61st ANNUAL TONY AWARDS!
::DING:: Round Three- Overall Sentimental Value
Going into last night's finale, saying goodbye to the goombahs that have entered our living rooms and hearts for the last sevens seasons was anticiated as something that was going to be hard...maybe a little sad. Instead, the show cut out so abruptly, that across America, millions were cursing their cable boxes and companies. I don't think anyone has pulled a stunt like this since Andy Kaufman (I forget the show, but he had "TV SNOW" inserted for 30 seconds, making everyone watching think their TV broke).
Conversely, the Tony Awards feel like a big family getting together again. Awww. Granted, it does appear there are lots of people crashing to date. If you are a C List celebrity that once thought about attending a Braodway show, they enlist you as a presenter in order to raise theater's profile. But then Bernadette Peters and Harvey Fierstein come out to present together, and you know all is right in the glorious clique that is the theater community.
It is also nice to have a nationally broadcasted awards show on a network known to skew old and conservative in viewers have men getting on stage and thanking their partners and husbands and supportive parents that gave them Judy Garland records when they were younger (Thanks, Michael Mayer).
ROUND THREE THE 61ST ANNUAL TONY AWARDS!
That means, according to Modus Tollens logic, The Tonys win the Primetime Battle of the Tonys. Booyah.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Matt Zoller Seitz on Deadwood's Season 3 DVD and John From Cincinatti. Like MZS, I'm excited that David Milch stuck with HBO. And even more excited to learn that Garret Dillahunt is still working with Milch. Guy's a badass.
Potty-mouthed networks triumph over the FCC in court. Thank f*cking God.
Bob Barker shuffles off this mortal coil. Just kidding! He's just retiring from his 50-year gig of hosting The Price is Right and creepily hitting on female contestants.
Wow. Fans of the post-apocalyptic drama Jericho (starring the poor man's Johnny Depp) inundated CBS with their enraged mail when they axed the show. And... CBS listened to them. The show's renewed for at least seven episodes. Does this mean I should start calling the CW, demanding they resurrect Buffy?
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
There's little suspense surrounding the fate of Cameron, Chase, and Foreman, considering that the actors who play them have not quit the show. The only tension is around how the writers will contrive to bring them back to the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital at the start of season 4. Let's hope that come Septemberish, House will return to form with shocking, provocative cases, a little more heat (House and Cuddy, anyone?), and fewer plot arcs featuring men as hell-bent on destroying Dr. Greg as cartoon villains.
Lost's finale already has been much-discussed across the blogscape (I prefer this term to blogosphere) so I will just say this: now that's how a show maintains fan interest during the off-season. I have no idea how showrunners Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof plan to continue the show, given the shocking nature of the finale's few minutes. Any commenters care to weigh in with their predictions?
Finally, take a gander at David Remnick's take on the end of The Sopranos. He says it better than I could, which is one of many reasons why I am not running The New Yorker.
Friday, May 25, 2007
On Wednesday, I made sure that Elisabeth's face was facing away from me...and that I I could only see Rosie and Joy smiling back at me with Warhol-esque vibrancy.
Today, I couldn't even look at the mug anymore.
It's been real, Ro. I'll catch you on the flip side.
To attempt to make sense of this senseless tragedy for just a second...it's not that Elisabeth isn't entitled to hold her views...it's just that she is under thirty and lacks the skill and charisma of her View co-hosts, and therefore comes across as more like the weakest link on a high school Model UN team.
And if you're like me and have Wednesday's episode DVRd for the repeat viewing, please check out Alicia Silverstone's snub of Elisabeth. It is better television than the M*A*S*H and Seinfeld series finales combined.
Cue Madonna's This Used to Be My Playground.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Looking at all the shows on their radar, CBS was clearly on a quest to find a companion piece for GHOST WHISPERER, aka JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT DOES MORE THAN SHOW US HER TATAS IN HANES COMMERICALS.
Months back, I was convinced Moonves had a winner with BABYLON FIELDS, written by Gerald Cuesta, the helmer behind L.I.E. . BF explores what happens in Babylon, Long Island when the dead come back to life. The pilot focuses on the Wunch family, a mother and daughter who murdered their abusive husband/father and also lost a daughter/sister years ago. ZOINKS!
Scripts are usually very superficial reads for me...40 something pages I thumb through with a phone in one hand and a Campbell's Soup-At-Hand in the other (give me free soup). BABYLON FIELDS, however, kept me up at night.
Watching the pilot only reaffirmed my pussy-ness. It is so well executed, and to my Long Island native's delight, actually shot in Baldwin, Long Island, allowing for a non-Hollywood view of my precious subarbs. Amber Tamblyn wont the Lawn Guyland Accent contest over Ray Stevenson, who sounded like he might still prefer a cup of tea over a Big Gulp (give me a free big gulp). However, acting was overall great.
So what did CBS do instead of picking up this stroke of genius? They went with MOONLIGHT, about a vampire investigator fighting forces of evil. Never thought I would see the day where I don't like a vampire show, but GAG ME.
GOOD ONE, CBS!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Since the dawn of television, serial dramas have used the deaths of main characters to bolster ratings, generate discussion, and attract attention. This has become so common and familiar a practice that TV writers seem to believe that they have to kill off at least one protagonist a season, like a sacrifice to the Nielsen gods. Competitive reality television has adopted the same process, but to an even greater degree: each week, someone is ritualistically sent home, their exile from the competition a stand-in for death.
Last night was the finale of Cycle 8 of America's Next Top Model, and the penultimate episode of Lost's third season. Both episodes made promises to their audiences, and one was kept and one broken. Each ANTM guarantees a loss, often made predictable through clunky editing. On Lost, the spectre of Charlie's death has been growing with each week, as Desmond repeatedly sees flashes promising a grisly end for the former hobbit. Desmond saves him each time, but has said himself that eventually Charlie has to die, that he won't be able to prevent it.
Last night was a Charlie flashback, and that alone could be hazardous to one's health. When Desmond told Charlie that he envisioned him flipping a switch, then drowning, which somehow enabled the rescue of Claire and Aaron, it became clear that after much promise, Charlie would leave Craphole Island for good. However, a series of random flashbacks highligting Charlie's "greatest hits" - the best moments of his life - and some poignant moments with Claire and Hurley led to Charlie swimming down to the Looking Glass Station to discover the station was not flooded. "I'm alive!" he shouted, and summoned several attractive women with guns. Fin. Huh.
I will extrapolate that perhaps Charlie's death was not as simple as a flip and drown, and Desmond did not want to tell him the gruesome extent of it, because that would prevent Charlie from following through with his final heroic moment. But if the Lost writers really want to prolong Charlie's demise for another episode - and by now he HAS to die, according to Chekhov's rule - there better be a damn good reason for it.
Meanwhile, ANTM's finale featured two deaths, as two models were sent home for being - well, what exactly? Renee and Natasha are clearly not inferior to Jaslene, who, like Kate on Lost, seems capable of making only one facial expression. (And, not to be catty, but she looks like a performer at Lucky Cheng's.) I find comfort in the fact that the ANTM winner, like the sole survivor of a plane crash, is treated with suspicion by the real world. Typically, the runners-up find much greater modeling success once they've left TV Land. Hopefully, Dominic Monaghan, who plays Charlie, will do the same. While I've never liked his character, he is one of the stronger actors on the show. Maybe he can branch out from his magical creature / magical island oeuvre.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
I understand how infuriating it can be to get spoiled without your consent. I once had a LiveJournal buddy who put a post behind a cut that read "I just found out I was adopted." Eager to get my Schadenfreude on by reading about someone else's family's dysfunctionality, I clicked the link. Behind which he had written "SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE" in caps like a million times. Now that called for an INSTANT DE-FRIENDING!
All this is to say, I'd love to hear some predictions for the last two episodes of this season of Lost, but that entails some airing of rumors and a confirmed spoiler or two. Caveat lector!
Qs for commenters, should you exist (and ideally will speculate on these q's, rather than answer definitively):
1) Which five characters will die?
2) Does Locke's Bad Dad count as one of the five?
3) What makes Jack's upcoming flashback so "dark"? Personally, I am hoping that the darkness means Jack commits suicide in flashback, and, to quote Douglas Adams, promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.
4) Is Locke dead?
5) Who is the returning cast member? Is he/she there to stay?
6) Will Eyeliner Guy make an appearance? He's hot.
7) Any other predictions?
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
The book, which I haven't read, is apparently an anecdotal retelling of the persecution of the Sioux in the late 19th century, focusing entirely on the American Indians' perspective. The movie, on the other hand, greatly enlarges the role of a half-Sioux, half-white character, sticking him in places where he never went, and giving him a fictional, white love interest. The film's creators are doing this because they believe today's white audiences won't watch a Wounded Knee adaptation unless there are some palefaces for them to latch onto.
Quoth the Times:
“Everyone felt very strongly that we needed a white character or a part-white, part-Indian character to carry a contemporary white audience through this project,” Daniel Giat, the writer who adapted the book for HBO Films, told a group of television writers earlier this year.
This doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. Considering that this book was a blockbuster hit to audiences THIRTY YEARS AGO, what makes the HBO folks think that viewers can't handle an all-American Indian cast today?
I'm fine with some tweaking of history if it's for discernible aesthetic or entertainment value. HBO did just this with Deadwood and Rome to great effect. But the idea that the story needs to be whitewashed to get good ratings just doesn't sit well with me.
Another perspective, from the article again:
Nicolas Proctor, Mr. Brown’s grandson and one of three people who oversees his estate, as well as an associate professor of history at Simpson College in Iowa, said that as a historian he was “always kind of shocked that history is not moving enough, is not evocative enough and rich enough to keep people from having to get in there and start monkeying around with it.”
What do you think, commenters? Was this a necessary move on HBO's part?
Thursday, May 03, 2007
It has arrived, but I need your help. Do I:
1) Clearly never use this mug because it is a collector's item that will (and should) be passed down from generation to generation?
2) Use this mug for its intended purpose: drinking delightfully warm beverages that also warm my soul, just like watching some 'Hot Topics' does?
3) Use this mug as a decorative pen holder on my desk, where I will get to look at it more often since I very rarely make warm beverages at home?
And by the by, my vote for Rosie's replacement EASILY is Whoopi Goldberg. While Sherri Shepard did have some hilarious co-hosting stints earlier in the season, Whoopi is the solid voice that that table needs.
Another example: Ben promises to teach Locke the history of Craphole Island (which I really hope doesn't involve a boring lecture on the ramifications of the Industrial Revolution in the South Pacific.) HOWEVER, this probably means one, minor question will be answered so that 10 new ones popping up in its place.
But what really nags at me lately is the issue of leadership on the island. The Lost creators are decidedly retro in their choices of Premiers of Craphole Island. (Yes, I think of them as premiers rather than say, governors. They are close to Australia, after all.) Jack seems to have been replaced by a sullen, secretive doppelganger with a penchant for overly-Botoxed women, so who will take his place? The only likely replacements are all... menfolk.
Locke is frolicking in the jungle. For some reason, despite clearly being the smartest person on the island, people overlook Sayid. A few weeks ago, Hurley suggested to Sawyer that he step up. Desmond also has an authoritative air about him, sort of like my co-blogger Jeanette. Perhaps Desmond and Jeanette should co-teach a class on the drinking habits of the Scotch-Irish. But I'm getting off track here. Why are the women of Lost never once considered, by the writers or the characters, for possible leadership roles?
Every time Kate gains some valuable knowledge, she immediately runs and tells Jack in an increasingly pathetic bid for approval. We've seen through Sun's flashbacks that despite a pampered background, she could be quite formidable when called upon. Yet she remains mostly in a traditional submissive role. The other women aren't even worthy of consideration: whiny Claire with her "BAY-BAY!", the absent Rose... is there anyone else? Oh, that's right: the strong, powerful women from last season (Ana Lucia and Libby) were killed off.
Get with the times, Lost. In a post-Buffy television landscape, it wouldn't hurt to put all those big strong men on the back burner and let a lady run the show for a while. I can see it now: Kate and Juliet, as representatives of their groups, creating a peace treaty over gossip about how Natasha from Top Model is totally a mail order bride.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Typecasting? FUGEDABOUTIT! More like, thank GOD for the work, says every, overweight, slick-headed ensemble member of Sopranos cast
Now that THAT Disclaimer is over...
About three weeks ago I went to a student filmmaker night at the Anthology Film Archives in the good old East Village. While all works there were amateur, one film featured stood out...not because it was good but because it wasn't some abstract attempt at depicting what would happen if a Quentin Terantino film took a Jean-Luc Godard film behind the middle school and got it pregnant.
This film was written by and starred two guys that I could have gone to high school with in that they were your typical, tri-state area Italian Americans. However, if I did go to high school with them they will have their asses kicked at our 10 year reunion since they are now both trying to make it as actors. Their film's thesis was that Italian American actors really have to struggle more than your average thespian to defy the typecast as a mobster. In the scene's climax, both actors are blatantly made fun of in a audition, which prompts them to wax poetic about the impact of Italian culture on America.
Okay, these goombas do have somewhat of a point; every time I channel surf and see Joe Pesci, he is usually talking about how he is going to bring someone to swim with the fishes (Or something like that, I automatically change the channel unless it turns out to be Home Alone, aka the greatest movie of all time).
But let's be honest. EVERY type of casting is type casting. Even if someone isn't looking for something as obvious as a greasy Italian, a drunk Irishman, or a subservient yet wacky black sidekick, they're still type casting. I for one think the typecasting of "hot people" is a much more widespread and grosser injustice than any Italian Stallion assumption.
Plus, if it weren't for typecasting, everyone's favorite television mob-sploitation show, The Sopranos, the reason we are all here today would be TOTALLY different. You all know Langlieb, our resident Sex and the City expert and hater of Polish people. However, while he doesn't like to talk about this much, Langlieb had a short lived career as a child actor. He actually auditioned for the role of Anthony Soprano, Jr. Among other things our loyal readers have learned about Langlieb is that he is a short, hairy Jew. (Please click the link for photographic evidence.) Can you imagine how these nine seasons would have gone if Langlieb was the legacy that Tony Soprano was working for?
Tony: (heavy breathing, followed by whispering) So, Big Pussy, we need a hit put on that spic before he dips in any more to our...market. (heavy breathing)
Big Pussy: (Screaming) THAT FUCKER IS GOING DOWN! I AM GONNA BLOW HIS FUCKING BRAINS OUT!
Tony: (heavy breathing) Keep it down, BP. Little Tony is upstairs memorizing all of the presidents and needs peace and quiet if he will ever move on to cabinet members!
Big Pussy: Sorry, boss. What's that smell?
Tony: (heavy breathing) I actually have a salami hero in at least three out of four pockets at all times.
Therefore, I do believe that all actors, including the aforementioned young, goomba filmmakers, should embrace their types. Stereotypes in the casting world are there fore a reason, that being to make entertainment more like the real world. Until we can live in peace and non-judging harmony in real life, color and creed blindness is not to be in TV or movie land! Don't go making stupid short films about how you are discriminated against just because you are angry that The Sopranos is ending before you had the chance to get cast as Italian Guy #3 oggling a stripper at Bada Bing. I guess you will have to find another in to get onto Celebrity Fit Club.
Eddie On Film on his Top 10 favorite gangsters.
Johnny tells us why he thinks The Sopranos might be just a teensy bit overrated.
Alanna finds the mob in unlikely places.
SamuraiFrog on The Long Good Friday.
Lauren waxes poetic on the Yakuza from Kill Bill.
Jeanette superficially deals with the issue of Italian stereotypes in casting.
And don't forget that The Sopranos begins its swan song tonight at 9 pm on HBO.
Love or hate The Sopranos (I'm looking at you, Johnny), there's no denying that it is a series that changed television. It altered the way that we perceive the rules for a TV series, what kind of content and characters we think are allowed to appear on the small screen. I've heard Tony Soprano compared to Archie Bunker, but Archie Bunker never strangled a man to death while visiting colleges with his daughter. Archie never cheated on his wife with a one-legged Russian. Having an antihero as a series' protagonist has been done, but criminals and sociopaths? Not so much. Say thank you, creators of Dexter, Weeds, Deadwood, The Riches, and House.
HBO certainly ran with the complex-baddie-as-main-character format. Deadwood's Al Swearengen and Rome's Lucius Vorenus are basically the Tony Sopranos of their respective historical periods. If you need confirmation, watch the "Gangs and Organized Crime" supplement to Rome on your HBO On Demand. The special outlines how the Mafia was born in ancient Rome's collegia, which were guilds run by powerful gangsters. Because there was no police force then, the collegia controlled the streets. Like the Mafia, collegia members protected local residents and gave charity to the poor, but they also were responsible for the brutal murders of those who resisted them.
And like Tony & Co., we see on Rome that the men of the collegia were deeply religious, though with less Jesus and more Janus. In fact, Vorenus is not taken seriously by rival collegia until he declares himself a "son of Hades." Then it becomes clear that he is not fucking around, because hey, the god of the underworld is the ultimate villain with whom to align yourself. Respect gained, Vorenus then saw visitors who would make requests of him, Don Corleone style.
I'm also convinced that on Lost, The Others are a kind of South Pacific mafia. Their name alone evokes several qualities associated with the mob: exclusivity, mystery, power. They are structured in a manner identical to mob families, that is, like a small dictatorship. Ben Linus (formerly Henry Gale) is the all knowing leader. His underlings secretly infiltrate and subvert the survivors, like in The Departed. They deem particular survivors as among "the good ones," presumably worthy of joining them. Locke is one of the chosen few and, based on the last episode, has come over to their side. Whether he will be made a capo remains to be seen.
Perhaps these shows are simply reflecting society in a funhouse mirror, offering exaggerated interpretations of our own tendencies to form insular posses in order to feel secure. What do you think, readers? What are other shows that are really mob stories?
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Just drop us an e-mail when your post goes up and we'll link to you, along with our many other dazzling participants. Check back here periodically tomorrow afternoon for updates and our own thoughts on mob-related films and TV shows. Rumor has it that even Vivian and Langlieb are gonna throw down. Good times!
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Carter discusses the coming influx of limeys into American programming, citing two actors from my current telegenic obsession, Rome. Ray Stevenson and Kevin McKidd will both be playing Americans on the proposed shows "Babylon Fields" and "Journeyman," respectively. Considering that the titles sound like SciFi Channel rejects, I'm thinking these blokes shouldn't buy property in Los Angeles quite yet. Their fellow former cast member, James Purefoy, whose Antony is way more fun than Charlton Heston's Antony, also will appear on a new program called "Manchild," which is a remake of a BBC series.
The article goes on to address other Britons invading the small screen, but I don't care about them because they don't look hot in ancient Roman man-skirts. I was led to question, though, if Brits really are better thespians than Americans. Considering the ratio of Us to Them, Them seems to have a much greater proportion of talent whenever awards season rolls around.
However, one anonymous TV exec claims Brits are being cast more frequently not because of their abilities, but because of their low hourly rates:
The executive said it is increasingly difficult to get an American actor in a lead role for less than $100,000 an episode. British actors work for considerably less, the executive said, though the figures vary.
In other words, their accents may sound high falutin', but they'll essentially become low-rent streetwalkers for a guest spot on 24. Ha! Take that, imperialists!
The article concludes, happily, with a mention of The Boob Tubers' favorite English TV whore:
So why are so many British actors so interested so suddenly in American television? Mainly it can be traced back to the most significant factor of all. “Hugh Laurie opened the door,” Ms. Buck said.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Last week's episode would have been unextraordinary - that is, a standard-issue House, plus the bonus insinuation of a one-night stand between House and Cuddy - if it weren't for guest star Marc Blucas.
Blucas is known amongst Buffy obsessives as Riley Finn, Buffy's fourth and fifth season boyfriend, AKA the poor schmuck sandwiched between Buffy's two far more delicious vampire BFs. Think of Riley as some old liverwurst, and Angel and Spike as the homemade ciabatta slices that overpower the cold cut smushed between them. Riley started out sort of sympathetic - he was just an all-American boy who had no idea what he was getting into. But by the end of his run he was an intolerable meathead whose ego couldn't withstand a girlfriend with more brawn than he.
In fact, back in college my friend Lindsey and I used to scream at the television, "BLUCAS, YOU SUCK!" every time Riley appeared on screen. The refrain sounds obvious enough, but we came upon it browsing the Buffy forums on Television Without Pity. (Yes, it's been established that I include myself in the Buffy obsessives.) One poster was an alumnus of Wake Forest, a school for which Marc Blucas played basketball. And apparently, he sucked. Hard. So when this poster went to games, he would scream at him, "BLUCAS, YOU SUCK!" And continued to do so years later when Blucas appeared on Buffy as the character Spike once accurately nicknamed Captain Cardboard.
ANYWAY. I was glad to see Riley Finn go, but I'm always interested in seeing what Buffy veterans are up to these days. (Prognosis: not so good. Slayer. The voice of April in TMNT? Really?) So when Marc "BLUCAS, YOU SUCK!" Blucas appeared as Patient of the Week on last week's House, I was delighted. I was even more delighted when it turned out that his character had a genetic disease whose symptoms included, among other things, bacterial vaginosis in his mouth. Vagina Mouth. That seems like a generous ending for Riley Finn, no?
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Yesterday, the Queen of All Media announced that the new selection for her uneven book club is "The Road," by Cormac McCarthy. I'm quite a fan of McCarthy, whom I picture as a steel-toed boot-wearing, tobacco-chewing, shady past-having good old boy who sees the world through death-colored glasses. His "Blood Meridian" was called one of the best novels of the past 25 years by the New York Times. This is true. It's also true that the book features babies hanging from trees.
"The Road," which I've not yet read, is typically bleak and beautifully-written according to all the reviews. It's a tale of a father and son trying to survive in a post-apocalyptic America. I seriously doubt that it has an uplifting ending.
I'm a little perturbed that a McCarthy book will have an Oprah seal of approval stamped on the covers of its next edition. This really dilutes his subversiveness, his badass-ness. It will be hard to fancy oneself an outlaw creating catastrophic violence along the U.S.-Mexico border when Oprah is encouraging stay-at-home moms across the nation to read the same books I do. But I suppose I should cast off this intellectual elitism and be glad people are reading literary fiction at all. After all, I wouldn't turn down the stratospheric book sales that come along with Oprah's endorsement.
One thing's for certain: Oprah's interview with McCarthy is going to be some delightfully uncomfortable television. The guy's old school, a recluse, and certainly won't take kindly to being asked any questions about his personal life. Set your DVRs, kids: this could be more squirm-inducing than Oprah's on-air chastising of James Frey.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Anywhoo, sitting in the theatre Saturday night, it really smelled like DEAR JESUS LET THIS SHOW BE MY TICKET OUT OF EVER HAVING TO PROVIDE HIGH PITCHED VOICES FOR DOGS AS THEY ACCIDENTALLY RUN INTO GLASS DOORS. So since I enjoyed the show, and since John shared with us that he has a rather small marketing budget, I figured maybe any of the .5 people that read this might be interested in going.
Getchyo tickets here!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Chief Exec Chris Albrecht, also known as the Scourge of Deadwood, seems
So says the article,
Mr. Albrecht said HBO was promising its customers the channel would deliver “the goods,” which he defined as “something you can’t get anywhere else.”
If by "goods" he means "bizarre foreign knock-offs" and "surf noir," then yeah, I suppose you won't find those anywhere else. Chris & Co. will be satisfying their viewers' need for shows about "the zen of surfing," "quantum physics," "a singing duo from New Zealand" and "Lily Tomlin." Speaking of Lily Tomlin, I imagine she could use the support right now.
As dubious as all this sounds, I'm going to hang in there with HBO. Considering I not only tolerate, but enjoy repeat episodes of Degrassi: The Next Generation, I think I can tough it out even if "the goods" backfire.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Also, I love Jeopardy so much.
Friday, March 16, 2007
We at the Boob Tubers are quaking with excitement over the upcoming return of HBO's great ethnic white hope, The Sopranos. This is a show that built a network and changed television forever. And by changed television we mean introduced more cursing, boobies, overly long dream sequences, and scenes of fat men eating manicotti than any other program before. So in honor of this revolutionary series' final nine episodes, we present to you... THE BOOB TUBERS MOB-A-THON!
On April 8th, the date that the final Sopranos season premieres, we want you to write about telegenic and filmic interpretations of organized crime. From The Godfather to The Departed, from The Sopranos to The Black Donnellys, give us your thoughts on Mafiasploitation. Don't limit yourself to the traditional Italian Mafia - we also enjoy Russians, Chinese, and Jewish mobs. Because they're so cute!
Email email@example.com with your intentions.
Post your Mob-A-Thon entry by 9:00 PM, EST, on Sunday, April 8th.
We will post a list of all participating blogs as entries are published on the 8th.
Please don't break our kneecaps.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Full disclosure: I have some Gypsy in me. My great-great grandmother was all about Bohemia back when it was an actual place rather than something from a Rent song.
OK, OK, time to make a disclaimer before the Gypsy population of West Bushwick or wherever decides to flood this blog with complaints. (Edited to add disclaimer: Nothing in this blog is serious, except for the fact that shows about Gypsies exist. Oh, also the paragraph about mythologizing.) It's just weird because I've noticed a lot more Gypsies on TV than there used to be. Oh, and they prefer to be called Roma (because they roam-a around a lot! hahahaha!)
First was on House, in which a young Gypsy boy falls mysteriously, yet predictably ill, and his relatives stupidly, yet predictably fight House on his treatment. The boy's family are funkily dressed, vaguely ethnic weirdos who seem to have missed the boat on modern medicine despite living in suburban New Jersey. The father chews on toothpicks like a shady used car salesman and they all hate the boy's honky girlfriend. In fact, they refer to all honkies by a word I forgot - let's say it's Groosalug - that probably means "The Less Swarthy Ones Who Shall Not Be Named."
Now, on FX's new series The Riches, Eddie Izzard plays the patriarch of a Gypsy family that moves into some dead people's mansion and pretends its theirs. First of all, who knew there were so many Gypsies in the United States? I thought they were all flirting with Juliette Binoche in quaint French towns. Second, wouldn't a sweet manse like that go on the market right away, outting the squatters before they could say "American Dream"? Third, are Gypsies the new Little People? That is, a widely mythologized and misunderstood group of people for us normals to become fascinated with? If so, feel free to feature me in your new series, "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves," FOX Reality!
Another question on my mind lately is WWHBOD, that is, What Will HBO Do? In just a few months everyone's favorite curse-words-and-graphic-sex channel will be out of decent programs. They've axed Deadwood, Rome will end once Octavian becomes Emperor in two weeks, and The Sopranos - which has nose dived in quality anyway - will air its final nine episodes in May. After that, HBO doesn't have a leg to stand on, unless you consider Entourage a leg. (Which I don't. It's a trifle.) Deadwood's David Milch is currently developing a series called John from Cincinatti, which he describes as a "surf noir," and I describe as a "How? What? How?" I don't know, guys. Will the ol' Home Box Office get overpowered by Showtime or HBO Lite, as I like to call FX?
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Anyway, if you actually watch ...The Secret DVD, you will notice that it has the same production value of my VHS taped eleventh grade project on The Great Depression, except my cinematography might have been a little better. The fine presentation of ...The Secret is all thanks to the work of the folks at Prime Time Productions, whose company biography I will now share with you:
Since mid 1994 Prime Time Productions has been a significant and consistently successful supplier of programming for the Seven, Nine and Ten Networks in Australia. The company to date has had several major series, the first the light entertainment family based - The World's Greatest Commercials and the second the reality/actuality based - Great Escapes. Prime Time has also branched out into the documentary field. The first program of this nature OZ Encounters - UFO's in Australia was screened on the Seven Network in November 1997. Learners a reality based docu-soap, fly-on-the-wall series aired on the Seven Network in 1999. Australia Behaving Badly, a candid camera style ethical dilemma series was made for the Ten Network. Romantic reality series Marry Me and the sequel Loves Me Loves Me Not were created for the Nine Network. Sensing Murder, a tele movie dedicated to solving unsolved murders in Australia screened initially on the Seven Network as a pilot episode, and on the Ten Network as a six part series of tele movies. Prime Time's latest production for the Nine Network is The Secret, an unprecedented worldwide event.
OH OH to be a fly on the wall during the meeting of the minds that led to the hiring of Prime Time Productions. In fact, that is EXACTLY what I want out of life. Let me positively think myself back in time and into the body of a fly...
And now, your moment of zen. And by zen I mean bullshit. Confirm or deny: this clip features Wilmer Valderama and a Genie!?!WTF?!
Friday, March 09, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Oprah is a homophobe with a capital phobe.
I am currently watching today's installment of daytime syndication's gem, and home girl hates the gays! Her guests are men and women who realized they were gay after already being in heterosexual marriages. She just asked a lesbian woman if she could tell who else is gay. And earlier, she was talking to a woman who was bi-sexual before coming out as a lesbian. Oprah then shared that her very gay hairdresser claims the only way he could have sex with a woman is if the face of a man were attached to the headboard. I think she could have just saved us all the second of our lives it took to listen to that sentence by instead spitting on the woman's face.
Seriously, Opes, I hope that the leadership academy is don't ask, don't tell...
Thursday, March 01, 2007
This article predicts that Lost will die after its fourth season, and the swan dive of its ratings are due in no small part to Idol. Lost ain't what it used to be, but it's still better than watching a limey make fun of autistic people who think they can sing.
To illustrate my hatred, I am going to give Sawyer-like nicknames to current Idol contestants:
Antonella Barba: Meadow Soprano
Sundance Head: The Other Farley Brother
I don't have any others because I don't watch the show and I don't know who the contestants are. But I hate them.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
One more American Idol thought for the night...Doesn't Simon remind you of that kid in your second grade class that, for some reason, thought he ran the show, even though the best comeback he ever had was something like, "A DUH?"
Now on to Heroes, or as Alanna and I call it, Multi-tasking-oes, since we have determined that the show deserves about 70% of our actual attention, leaving plenty of time to surf the net (Alanna) or trim toenails (me).
Last night, getting a good, long look at Matthew John Armstrong playing Ted Sprague aka Radioactive Man, it was easier to almost confirm the rumors; Armstrong is one of the notorious Geico cavemen. Question is, will Tim Kring allow him to self explode in time to reprise the role in the ABC pilot to be based on the ad campaign? Here's hoping, because that sounds like RATINGS GOLD!
After Heroes, it was time for a daily dose of "I'm better than everyone, even Nelson Mandella" as we tuned in for Oprahs Building a Dream: The Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy. I have recently grown disheartened with the old gal, particularly because of her somewhat, holier than thou attitude during her road trip across America. This wasn't really remedied as I watched her walk across a stage in front of several hundred needy girls wearing RIDICULOUSLY ORNATE AND TALL ESPADRILLES. Nor was I won over in the way that Oprah has managed to recently be down on American students in the press when justifying her school's location in South Africa. Nor did it help when Oprah brought us back to the sight of her childhood home, where her grandmother attempted to teach her how to do laundry to prepare for the future, to which Oprah informed her grandmother that she'd never have to do that for herself. I mean, sure I was tearing up at the tales of young girls living in shacks in South Africa plagued with poverty and violence, but that dindn't stop me from picturing like...a target on the back of Oprah's stylish yet casual velour sweatsuit.
NOW IT IS TIME TO NOT WATCH ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A FIFTH GRADER!
Friday, February 23, 2007
So I have no qualms casting a terrible Lifetime biopic about her, using out to pasture TV actors. Without further ado, the cast from Snakes on a Dame: The Britney Spears Story.
Britney's mama: Cynthia Ettinger. Cynthia was last seen playing an amoral carnie stripper on Carnivale, and a buxom drama queen obsessed with Brian Cox(!) on Deadwood. She's voluptuous, bottle-blond, and has proven adept at playing wayyyy over-the-top women who want to pretend they're not middle-aged. She'd be perfect for the ultimate trashy stage mom.
Jason Alexander: The actual Jason Alexander, of course, should play Britney's childhood friend and first husband, just because I thought that's who she married when I first heard the news, and the mental image was hilarious!
Kevin Federline: David Faustino. He's certainly established his sleaziness, and I think his own aborted career is a nice parallel to K-Fed's (Faustino's latest movie: something called RoboDoc.)
Paris Hilton: Britney's former BFF would be marvelous as interpreted by Ripsi, the girl who was too bad for reality show The Bad Girls Club. If you get Oxygen, check out the episode where Ripsi gets wasted and attacks like, everyone. Trust me, it's so much funnier than it sounds.
The lady herself: I'd cast Clare Kramer as Brit. There's not much of a resemblance, but any Buffy fan remembers the havoc Clare wrought during the show's fifth season with her terrible, terrible performance. Britney and Clare are both bad at playing crazy (even if Britney is legitimately insane), and Clare could do justice to Britney's ridiculous, melodramatic life.
OK commenters. Who would you cast? I still need a Jamie-Lynn, here.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Goodbye Anna Nicole
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to wear hot pink spandex
Even when you were the size of a mall
You wrote the book on golddigging
And the encyclopedia on train wreck TV
You were pretty much the only billionaire
That nobody else wanted to be
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a fart lit on fire
Never knowing where to draw the line
With the rat faced lawyer you hired
And I would have liked to tell you
If only Britney had made sure you'd known
That farts fueled by taco bell
Burn longer than with methadone
What's more, news of this is already up on Wikipedia. Moments ago the article included a statement that Smith's boyfriend / possible baby-daddy Howard Stern had murdered her, but that appears to have been taken down.
Gawker, with its infinite resources as a blogging juggernaut, has a record of the graffiti'ed Wiki article.
Potential zingers over this news item abound, but let's take a moment to remember what awesome television The Anna Nicole Show was. That show was like a weekly dose of pure, uncut Schadenfreude.
Does anyone ever feel like the world is so weird that we must live on some alternate version of Earth, rather than actual Earth?
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
First off, I know I am like, a week tardy with this comment, but last Thursday's episode of Thirty Rock single handedly revived the half hour comedy. I LOLed, as the kids are saying, each of the three times I watched it. At the very least, please go here and make your way to the two minute recap of 2/1's episode. AAAAHHHHHHHH! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! It feels so good to laugh.
Continuing with the peacock flow, let it be known that I love my paychecks. However, Starting next month, Studio 60... will give up it's Monday, post Heroes time slot to The Black Donnellys while 30 Rock will go on a vacay for Andy Barker: PI. Okay, okay fine let's try to build audiences for these fledgling shows (the former of which is actually quite good) but I'll miss my Monday fix of Sorkin walk n' talks and my Thursday thrills with Kenneth, the baby faced page.
Moving on to the topic that is inevitable these days for anyone except the Amish and kidnapped people being kept in confined quarters (Not Sean Hornebeck kidnapped. I hear he got to play video games all day. LUCKY!)...American Idol.
The other day I got in an elevator on my way home and saw a former co worker. We both marveled at how lucky we were to be leaving at a reasonable hour. We quipped as to what we could do with our spare time.
Former Co-Worker: We can watch American Idol now.
Me: YEAH!...I mean, wait. Were we joking? Because I will now actually go home and watch American Idol...
FCW: Oh no, I wasn't joking.
Point is, Idol fans, or Idolators if you will (HAHA), don't be ashamed. Sure, especially at this point in the season, the episodes have about as much point as 1 week of rehab for calling a co-star a faggot*. Sure, we're idiots for thinking that every moment down to each of Paula's weird, fingers-spread-apart palm claps isn't staged. But don't let other's tell you you're inferior for liking this crap. Instead, tell them to focus their energy on Alanna and telling her that she is inferior for liking Lost, which makes its triumphant return tonight.
Join me next time, when I give you my super, duper, Fall 2008 Preview.
*That's about as much coverage as you'll find here for America's favorite skinny lady/homophobic estrogen fest.