—plug—

Not content with passing his driving test, the splendid LC off of Liars and Lunatics has found the time to concoct a new “experiment in citizen journalism” called The Pamphleteer, which I suggest you check out at your earliest convenience.

—end of plug—

Different voices

The BBC’s come in for a bit of abuse in recent months, some of it justified. But just as its friends begin to despair, along comes a programme like this morning’s In Our Time, discussing The Waste Land and you just want to grab all the sneering lackeys of Murdoch and the Mail by their lapels and ask them where that sort of thing’s going to come from once the licence fee’s gone.

A little less information

Comment is free, but facts are sacred, said CP Scott. That said, some facts are so sacred that journalists would rather not know them, as I discovered just now when I phoned a contact to arrange an interview.

“Hello, could I speak to Khun ******, please?”

“Sorry, Khun ******, he is in toilet.”

“OK, shall I call back in five minutes?”

[Pause.]

“Perhaps ten minutes, yes?”

Slice of life

On Sunday afternoon, the head of a foreigner was found in a plastic bag suspended from the Rama VIII bridge in Bangkok. What is assumed to be the rest of the unfortunate gentleman was retrieved from the river yesterday.

Pol Col Pornsak Surasit... said it was uncertain whether the man was murdered or if he committed suicide.

Pol Col Chawalit Prasopsin, deputy commander of Metropolitan Police Division 7, said specialists at Siriraj Hospital would need time to examine the head thoroughly to determine whether it was severed with a sharp object.

PS: Actually, it looks as if they could be onto something, unlikely as it may seem... But the bag?

PPS: It’s still not entirely clear what happened but it really does appear to have been a suicide. “Maybe Mr Tasadori had no place to go and felt guilty.” A very sad tale.

Final question for twenty million rupees, and he's smiling. I guess you know the answer.

Here we go...the final award...Best Picture...here's hoping...



Whew! Of the five, I really do think it's the winner. I'm glad it won.

I'm looking for corny in my life.

Best Actor...Ok, this is probably the only category with any real tension. Even that feels forced. We all know it's going to be Mickey Rourke, yet people keep pretending Sean Penn could snake it. And that would be fine, I really did enjoy Penn as Harvey Milk. It's just not gonna happen.

SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!! Sean Penn!!!!!!!!!!!!



Wow. Fuck! That's really awesome, I'm so fucking tickled, I totally admit it. I seriously don't think anyone genuinely saw that coming.

I know. It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it.

Best Director...Danny Boyle for Slumdog! Big fat score all around!

Best Actress...let's see if it's my girl! Marion Cotillard is reading her nomination, surely a good sign...god, Kate's already losing it!



Meryl could really steal it...I mean, it's Meryl Streep, you know? 15 nominations!

Sigh, I think Nicole's daughter is still picking out her dresses...fail.

YES!!! It's Kate!!

Great speech, however melodramatic. Loved the dad whistle.

You know what else you should do? Nail his penis above the entrance to the elementary school. That'd really teach him a lesson.

Best Original Score...again, I'm gonna go with Slumdog...I really did love the music in this film...sweet! Another Slumdog win!

Best Original Song...seriously, I'm glad they don't make us sit through all of them anymore. (Or at least, not the whole song.) I'm going for Slumdog, but Wall-E could snake it...sweet! Not only did I guess the right movie, but it was up for 2 songs and I chose "Jai Ho" (the end credits song, very energetic) and it won!

Best Foreign Film...I'm voting for Waltz With Bashir...fuck!! It went to Departures from Japan! Hmph. Oh well, I'm sure it's a great film! (Cute speech, in any case!)

Ok, it's down to the final four. Thank god, I'm full of nibbles and getting tired. Getting old, you know...

They locked me up for being out with you, so I jumped out of the window, climbed over a fence, crossed the deepest river in England and here I am!

Best Visual Effects...I went with Button on this...and another win for me!

Best Sound Editing...I guessed Slumdog...wow, The Dark Knight! Certainly a well-deserved award!

Best Sound Mixing...again, I went with Slumdog...score! Got that one!

Mmm, editing. Certainly something I love! Best Editing...hooray! Another Slumdog win and a win for my predictions!

It's coming! I will make my own tension! God, it's not even tension, it's one of the surest categories...ok, it's just an excuse to post delicious Kate pics. Sue me.

I know what ice fishing is!

Best Supporting Actor...uh oh. This is going to be A Moment.



I'm going with the obvious choice.

And indeed, it goes to Heath Ledger. Apparently, unlike the Golden Globes (where director Christopher Nolan accepted), his entire family is going to accept the award. (God, everyone in the crowd looks like they are seriously about to lose it.)

Best Feature-Length Documentary...

Ok, I love me some Herzog but that film (Encounters at the End of the World) just did not do it for me. I'm going for Man On Wire here, call me crazy...

Bill Maher presenting?? Um, ok! Ah, oh yes, his film was a "documentary." Hmm. That's for another post, but anyhoo...

SCORE!! Man On Wire wins--she lands another one!

Best Documentary Short...ok, I had NO idea about this category...and whoops, Smile Pinki, got that one wrong! I wish I could have been able to see these!!

You can't be a proper writer without a touch of madness, can you?

Oooh, they are showing Nathan Fillion's new show's trailer (Castle) while I'm drinking...like I wasn't going to watch it anyway. Mmm. Central Market pinwheel cheese and Nathan Fillion...what was I watching, again?

Ok. Hugh is singing and dancing. I assume this is where they make us suffer through the musical numbers? Potty break, brb!

Wow, I think that Chicago-style sequined number with fringe that Beyonce's donning is totally on some private bucket list of mine somewhere...I may need to work out and learn how to dance first, ya think? (Sorry, no pictures, eating cheese. Priorities, dude.)

I am rapidly failing to recognize so many of these people...I am officially getting too old.

Ooh, trailer for a terrible flick with my girlfriend Sandra Bullock, my husband's boyfriend Ryan Reynolds, her name is Margaret, the trailer's got a Katy Perry song, it comes out in June...could it scream out for me any more? It will certainly require a lot of alcohol...something horrid called The Proposal. Sigh.

The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll.

Oooh! Live action short!!! Here we go! I have a bad feeling it's Toyland...but I am rooting for anything else, mainly New Boy.

Yup, I called it! No one can resist a Holocaust short. Honestly, I really thought many of the others were more creative, but I don't mean to be callous and tacky by suggesting I wouldn't give the Oscar to the Holocaust short...ok, awkward...moving on.

And it's coming...Kate time is approaching...

You look like you work in a Hasidic meth lab.

Best line all night. (Also my break away from Kate Winslet lines.)

Best Cinematographer...I'm going with Slumdog? HOORAY, it sure is!

Bourdain would like to weigh in on how pumped he is as to who wins what...



omfg, we just broke out the cheddar garlic pinwheel...baaaaaaby!

If I wasn't such a bad woman on the page, I couldn't be such a good woman in life.

Art Direction...Benjamin Button! Ellen Aim is on a winning streak tonight! That's 5 out of 6, woot! (Since you know I don't want to see the film, you can correctly assume my joy is only for my accuracy in guessing the winner.)

Ok, costume design, let's see...I'm betting on the Button again...wow, The Duchess! I don't even remember that one, but it's nice to see the underdogs win, always always. Oh, I already love this guy...the first thing Michael O'Connor did was thank Rachel Portman for her music!

Make-up Artist...again, I went with Button, and there are only 3 contenders (I never understand that, when you know there should be more). Yup, got that one right. Meh.

Gads, the teen idols take the stage...someone needs to tell Robert Pattinson that unless you CAN grow a beard, please don't try, especially at the Academy Awards. *facepalm*

Can the soul be really be satisfied with such polite affections?

Best Original Screenplay...I said Wall-E, but I'm rooting for In Bruges...

Wowzers, it's Milk! I like surprises...even if McDonagh's writing was better. Aw, damn, Dustin Lance Black's speech is poignant, five points.

Best Adapted Screenplay...this HAS to be Slumdog...

And it is! The night looks promising...

Best Animated Feature Film...poor non-Pixar contenders...

Yup, Wall-E, no brainer. Next.

Oooh, animated short film! Please don't let it be Pixar again...

Judging by the applause, no one has seen ANY of these, jesus.

YES!! YES!! YES!! My favorite short WON! La Maison en Petits Cubes! And how cute...the company that produced it is called Robot, so he got to say, "Domo arrigato, Mr. Roboto." Wink.

I'M not! I'M going to The Fourth World... it's sort of like heaven. Only better, because there aren't any Christians!

Well I really like the stage...it honestly looks drastically different tonight.





Um...interesting opening number...though the Anne Hathaway bit was cute. He at least had the charisma and energy to make it watchable!




Hugh Jackman said they have a 7 second delay, but if Rourke wins they switch to a 20 minute delay!

All right, best supporting actress! This is a really different approach they're doing--five actress introducing all the nominees? We'll be here til ONE AM...as long as they don't start handing them out in the balconies again, jeez that was weird...omfg, as Go Fug Yourself might say, Goldie Hawn's nipples seem to be headed for the open bar.

PENELOPE CRUZ!! SCORE ONE FOR ELLEN AIM!!

What's this? Paper hats, how useful!

I bring you...my obligatory Diane Lane shot. Because I can. It is an awful shame about the thing growing on her husband's face, I hope it clears up soon.



I am slightly older than some, so I really don't have an opinion on Miley Cyrus. So far all I know is that I like her best when she's not talking and that this dress is fucking unreal gorgeous. It looks quite heavy up close with all those sequins, but worth it. I'm torn between it and Kate Winslet's dress for a favorite.




Poor Anne Hathaway. Next time, sweetie.

Affairs are much more exciting than marriages...as mummy can testify.

You must excuse the horrid quality, but there will be better pics by real people tomorrow...but Winslet's dress is totally the stunner of the night...







This is pre-red carpet stuff, so it's not HD yet.

Sweet, Tim Gunn is doing the actual red carpet stuff! Ha ha, that's awesome.

Only the best people fight against all obstacles in pursuit of happiness.

One of my dates, Michael Sheen, looks totally stoned. Why not.



This was the brief moment before they shrank him down to the corner of the screen because I guess no one here knows who he is? Underworld series be damned. (They do sort of SUCK...)

Aside: I hope and pray for the death of Ryan Seacrest.

I really love the entire cast of Slumdog; it's so refreshing to see people who are genuinely tickled to be there. And Danny Boyle seems wicked cool, as always.



Also, Amy Adams continues to be so cute, I'm even digging her necklace.



And right now, Mickey Rourke is totally trying not to lose it in front of Barbara Walters. Let's see if he keeps it together at the podium...

I'm Clementine... No jokes about my name.

Who's the dork who physically moved the computer into the same room as the TV, all set to rock and roll? Yeah, that's right, I really am that big of a dork. Yes.

I've got a nice wine from Napa Valley, various snackies from Central Market...I am so set. It's a shame none of the categories are very close. I used to want Anne Hathaway to win tonight...



...but there's just no chance. Plus, having now viewed both films, I'm quite happy to let that one go!

Aside from the shorts, I can't say I'm really waiting for any category. It would be so delightful for In Bruges to win original screenplay, but I have a bad feeling Wall-E will. Grr..

And Happy 700th Post to me!!

Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.

So yes, The Reader was great, I really enjoyed it.



The first half was all, you know, steamy and sultry...



...and then bam, it gets all serious. Which was fine, honestly. I just wish it had addressed the issues that rose (this could be anything from a sex pun to a Titanic pun, but moving on) more than it did. Overall, I enjoyed it muchly.

Part of me is glad Winslet did so well in this role, because otherwise it's very much in danger of being yet another Oscar nod for taking it off. It's bad enough everyone won't shut up about how wonderful Winslet is when some of us have been rabid (well, almost rabid) fans since Heavenly Creatures back in 1994. It really sort of reeks of everyone secretly going, "God, you are obviously so comfortable being so naked and we really respect that."

I mean, come on, this is her SIXTH OSCAR NOMINATION. Where THE HELL have these people been?

Anyhoo. Also finally watched Slumdog Millionaire.



It definitely has some tough scenes, but considering the (well-known, no spoilers here!) upbeat finale and bitchin' soundtrack, it's not too painful. Really great movie--from the music to the editing to the acting to the way the story unfolds, I will be perfectly happy if it wins.

And for the first time in...shit, hang on, I gotta look...ok, not since 1993 have I not seen all the Best Picture nominees. That year I hadn't seen Remains of the Day or In the Name of the Father. (No reason, I just hadn't. I was 13, sue me!) But I am actively choosing not to watch Benjamin Button. And I certainly enjoy Brad Pitt most of the time, it's just that I hate Forrest Gump or anything of its ilk with such intensity that I refuse to be subjected to another THREE HOUR film that could even vaguely remind me of that insipid shit.

Red carpet shenanigans start at 5! Since I'm not really all that into and/or worried about most of the categories this year, I'll be keeping a look out for some gorgeous frocks...



Here's hoping she pulls another dress out like this one, since she finally gets to win!

I would go to the beach and people would kick copies of Byron in my face!

So Robin Williams was fabulous. Hysterical as always, just don't ask me what he talked about! That was 90 minutes of straight nuclear-level energy and I don't know if I saw the man take a breath. Even when he'd take a drink of water you'd still be catching up and then it kept right on going. Very impressive and damn funny, it wore me out.

Spent the better part of the day at the Magnolia yesterday (shudder) and it got so crowded by evening that I opted for dinner rather than a 7.50 Slumdog Millionaire, which I'll knock out today. But I saw all the shorts, animated and live action, and The Reader.

I wish I had done some online research first, because you can watch 4/5 of the animated shorts for free here. LOVE the Oktapodi one, but my favorite, as noted: Absent is the Japanese/French “La Maison en Petits Cubes” directed by Kunio Kato. That's the one I hope wins. And from what I can tell, that one is not to be had on the net. (You can find a clip, at least.)

I have a bad feeling, however, that since a Pixar short has been nominated (Presto, which we all saw in front of Wall-E) that it's going to snag it...and that just sucks. You know I love Pixar but I like the idea that the shorts category can be a place for first-timers, amateurs or lesser-knowns. Maybe everyone else will vote that way, too.

On the plus side, not only did I get to see “La Maison en Petits Cubes” but they had 5 more shorts, "highly commended," to round out the time to something worth paying for!

I really enjoyed all 5 live action shorts. I think the only way to watch these is on itunes, all ranging from $0.99-1.99 each...

On the Line: Really enjoyed, but the ending left me dissatisfied.

Manon on the Asphalt: TOTALLY FUCKING DEPRESSING, right up my alley and I really liked it.

Toyland: also depressing but very heavily-visited material, so it was my least favorite (but still great).

Pig: One of my top three and it reminded me of something my dad would really like. It was very European.

New Boy: To me, the clear winner. An Irish short based on a Roddy Doyle short story. Cute and funny, my pick.

I'll have to talk about The Reader later. I really liked it, it raised some amazing questions and arguments, but then totally failed to really address them. Wtf. But for now must shower and hit the theater!

Under the covers

A glance at the tag cloud for LibraryThing, which measures the relative popularity of the identifying tags that members apply to their books, would suggest that people own a great deal of erotica, but no pornography.

Hmm.

Oh I see, so you're going to a cemetery with your toothbrush. How Egyptian.

I thought this was totally cute: Alex sent me a link about Northern Ireland's worst driver.

The cram is on. I've got The Visitor, The Changeling and Frozen River at home, plus I need to go see Slumdog, Doubt and The Reader. It's on, baby. I like pressure.

But tonight is all about relaxing with some Robin Williams. Someone who likes to swear almost as much as I do!

Last night I got a pedicure...though I have really never been one for pedicures, this was SO NICE. 50 minutes of lavender rose treatment--scrub salts for legs and feet, hot stone treatment, it was too damn nice. I listened to the entire new Lily Allen album while that was being done, and of course the chair itself is a massage chair.

So it was okay I guess. ;)

But I'm irritated that Lily Allen's recent tour doesn't seem to include Texas. We're not THAT scary, right? Oh well.

Monkey* gone to heaven

I don’t know whether the above cartoon, published in the New York Post earlier this week to much brouhaha, was intended to be racist. As Gawker has pointed out, the artist, Sean Delonas, doesn’t appear to be a particularly sophisticated political thinker, but his peculiar obsession would seem to be homosexuality rather than race.

As with the Danish cartoons controversy (see here and here for previous rumblings), I think the aspect that everyone’s overlooked is that Delonas’s cartoon is completely crap, a far greater crime on my charge sheet than any perceived sociopolitical insensitivity.

He does, however, follow in a glorious tradition of bad, reactionary cartoonists. I have particularly fond childhood memories of leafing through my grandparents’ copies of the Daily Express and enjoying the foam-flecked daubs of the veteran Cummings. Here are a couple of his gems, that make Delonas look like a woolly liberal:





*Although, as the deliciously preposterous Al Sharpton failed to acknowledge, chimpanzees aren’t monkeys.

PS: And, if you really want to see people living up to derogatory ethnic stereotypes, here’s an Irish joke to beat them all.

Your ass is ringing.

Hooray! Tomorrow evening is Robin Williams and I'm SO EXCITED.



I hope he's funny...I mean, the man is borderline neurotic and has an insane energy the likes of which I've rarely seen. Doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be a hysterical show. But here's hoping--he has certainly managed to crack me up in the past! We totally have (expensive!) nosebleed seats, but it's kinda like when I was really poor and Simon & Garfunkel came to town...I'll take what I can get!



And just for a healthy dose of geek, a new episode of both BSG and Dollhouse will be waiting for us when we get home!! I suddenly wish I had been paying better attention to all the mythology on BSG...and Dollhouse needs to bring a little more to the table, if you ask me, but as always, the pilot gets a ton of leeway.

Otherwise, it's been a pretty dull week. Oscars are coming up and I need to knock a few out this evening, but not sure I'm feeling it. Tomorrow night may be a Magnolia fest of shorts, but must see The Reader and Slumdog by Sunday. Fuck you, Button. Maybe if I'm feeling really at peace with the world, I'll give it a go.

I'm pathetically behind on my film reviews, so it would be very wise to take these films on. Wise I am not. Lazy and impulsive, yes.

Completely unrelated to anything, I bought the new Lily Allen CD. I really like it. It doesn't seem as dark and edgy as her first, it's far poppier and some tracks are kinda obvious and less creative, but they're still fun.

Even more unrelated, my friend B. just emailed me this, it's fantastic...

Ben & Jerry created "Yes Pecan!" ice cream flavor for Obama.
>>
>> They then asked people to fill in the blank to the following:
>>
>> For George W. they created "_________".
>>
>>
>> Here are some of their favorite responses:
>>
>> - Grape Depression
>>
>> - Abu Grape
>>
>> - Cluster Fudge
>>
>> - Nut'n Accomplished
>>
>> - Iraqi Road
>>
>> - Chock 'n Awe
>>
>> - WireTapioca
>>
>> - Impeach Cobbler
>>
>> - Guantanmallow
>>
>> - imPeachmint
>>
>> - Good Riddance You Lousy Motherfucker... Swirl
>>
>> - Heck of a Job, Brownie!
>>
>> - Neocon Politan
>>
>> - RockyRoad to Fascism
>>
>> - The Reese's-cession
>>
>> - Cookie D'oh!
>>
>> - The Housing Crunch
>>
>> - Nougalar Proliferation
>>
>> - Death by Chocolate... and Torture
>>
>> - Credit Crunch
>>
>> - Country Pumpkin
>>
>> - Chunky Monkey in Chief
>>
>> - George Bush Doesn't Care About Dark Chocolate
>>
>> - WM Delicious
>>
>> - Chocolate Chimp
>>
>> - Bloody Sundae
>>
>> - Caramel Preemptive Stripe
>>
>> - I broke the law and am responsible for the deaths of thousands...with
>> nuts

How did you get past security with those dangerous brown eyes?

Ok, sorry. I know I had that freaky man's face up here for way too long. Even I was starting to not like coming here.



So I watched Vicky Cristina Barcelona. I'm torn. I really thought I was going to loathe it, and I kinda did loathe most of the characters. As far as recent Woody Allen goes, it's fine. The two female leads, Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson play fairly lame stereotypes (I'm not knocking the acting...yet), but the former is more interesting. The latter...one-fourth of it is ScarJo's deteriorating acting skills and the rest is a truly pretentious and annoying character.

As Alex so brilliantly put it, more and more she's playing the sorts of characters Lost In Translation's Charlotte would have made fun of. So. True.

The film itself was sort of a pretty train wreck. I did enjoy Vicky's dilemma (trite though it may have been) and the scenery and music made the time pass nicely. But the end especially was just this anti-climatic (which I can normally handle) petering out that sealed its lameness. I don't mean to knock the movie too much, because I never wanted to turn it off and I was certainly compelled to continue. I just wouldn't watch it again.

And Penelope Cruz?



I'm still not on that fan boat yet and this role irritates me that it's even nominated. It's JUST LIKE Marisa Tomei's Wrestler nomination: really? Whereas the Tomei is getting nominated for strutting about topless, I can only guess PC is getting the nod for making out with ScarJo in a darkroom. It's really frustrating. Tomei and Cruz are certainly two talented actresses but give me a fucking break.

(Sure enough, I go online to dig up shots from the film and too many fanboys have, what, taken pictures of their TVs and posted these uber-grainy close-ups of The Kiss. *facepalm*)

But kudos to Javier Bardem.



To be able to do No Country For Old Men and this and be 100% believable as either the scariest motherfucker to walk the earth or the dark, sexy Spanish seducer? That's some talent. (Though in fairness, his No Country haircut really did deserve a large chunk of that Oscar statue...)

Well, Oscars are this weekend and it's really not looking good for my having seen everything. I can't help it. The nominations this year are easily the dullest in years. I just can't be motivated to care. I'm still working on it, though...we'll see.

Crash bang wallop

So there I am, standing at the junction of Rama IV and Sathorn and Witthayu, the point at which Bangkok’s drivers believe they’re Italian for five seconds and inevitably I think of JG Ballard and then I remember that in the early 80s you could get on Top of the Pops with a song inspired by Ballard and because I’m a lazy, busy, sloppy, half-arsed blogger, and can’t even keep to my own self-imposed rules, all I can offer is this:

Turning Japanese

I’ve been reading A Wild Haruki Chase, a collection of pieces about Haruki Murakami, written mainly by those tasked with the translation of his works into other languages. It’s a mixed bag; some of the pieces are witty and perceptive; others are as clunky and pedestrian as those stock essays you can lift from the internet (the Russian contribution is especially bad). It’s inevitable, given that most of the pieces were written in Japanese by non-native Japanese speakers, then translated into English by native Japanese speakers, that some stylistic nuances are bound to disappear. But a question arises: if you’re translating something that’s badly written in the first place, do you have an obligation to convey that badly-writtenness in the new version?

In one of the better chapters, academic and critic Inuhiko Yomota points out that Murakami’s initial success on the international market came because he was one of the first Japanese authors who transcended Western notions of what Japan was – until the late 1980s/early 1990s, a hodgepodge of samurai, geishas, kamikaze pilots and yakuza. Given a name-change or two, his jazz-loving, spaghetti-eating protagonists could just as easily have been Danish or Polish.

But then, argues Yomota, just as Murakami’s global success began to build, our image of Japan began to change, and Murakami’s Japan became ours; to gaijin readers, his characters acquired a Japaneseness they had previously lacked, because Japan no longer equated samurai or geisha. Which opens up all sorts of chicken-and-egg arguments about stereotypes and perception and reality that I don’t have time for right now, but I would just like to highlight Yomota’s phrase for the transnational accessibility of Murakami’s world: “cultural scentlessness”.

Good day to ya, pusscake.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

Theirs’ know buisness...

The most dispiriting moments in editorial work come when you’ve just spent a couple of hours ploughing through some turgid prose, attempting to suck some sense out the mangled syntax and comedy typos and unintentional non sequiturs and the only thing that stops you from putting a foot or some other extremity through the monitor (apart from the money) is the awareness that the writer does not have English as a first language and when you remember that, it’s really a pretty good effort, and then you happen to glance at the byline for the first time and you realise, no, actually he does notionally have English as a first language and that’s when you just want to curl up in the corner and whimper.

Why would the courtesan go for the penniless writer? Whoops. I mean sitar player.

Put up a note?! "Highly classified shit found?"

As tedious as my week has been, I am pretty excited that today is already Thursday. At least I think it is.

I really hate Valentine's Day, regardless of relationship status, and always have. It's commercial bullshit I refuse to buy into. We typically do something like cook dinner or...well, there was that one time we snuck over to the neighboring golf course and took pictures of each other slathered in fake blood. That was fun.

This year I was thinking of taking D to see Zombie Dearest at the Pocket Sandwich Theatre. They do these fabulous melodramas (myself a former castmate of one) where the audience is fed food and beer and given popcorn to throw at the bad guys and weirdos. (I was a weirdo.) But I called last Monday and it's already sold out! Wah!! Stupid Dallas bastards trying to copy my fantastic V-Day plans. Shah.

So my impulse is to go nowhere. I mean, everyone and their dog is going to be out--it'll be worse than New Year's. And you know how I feel about people.

Ok, back to applying for financial aid. Oops, I mean, uh, "working." Yes, that's it.

...but Giant Haystacks was better

Can anyone tell me what happens in the last 20 minutes or so of The Wrestler? The DVD I was watching crapped out at that point.

Actually, that’s not such a great idea, is it? If you tell me what happens, it’ll spoil it for other people who haven’t seen it. I’ll have to put a big, aesthetically compromised *SPOILER ALERT* notice over the comments. So let’s do this differently. Tell me what you think *ought* to happen in the last 20 minutes. Or what *might* happen. Even if you haven’t seen the film. *Especially* if you haven’t seen the film, or even heard of it.

It’s after the bit where Mickey Rourke snorts coke, shags the annoying blonde woman and wakes up in that room surrounded by pictures of firemen.

(I didn’t make that last bit up, it’s really in the film.)

You need to be less....offputting.

I haven't heard this song in AGES but it started going through my head today. (Uh, no idea why...ok, maybe I've gotten too comfortable lately...)

Bite Sized Goodness: Violent Femmes, Fat

Then that Cobain pussy had to come around and ruin it all.

So I did get to watch The Wrestler the other day, and it was quite good! It's definitely a great role for Mickey Rourke and despite how much I loved Sean Penn in Milk, I don't really mind that Rourke will probably snake the statue.



It actually reminded me of Milk at first (that's right, I just compared Milk and The Wrestler, how awesome is that) in that both directors typically do really artistically driven films (like, PAINFULLY SO sometimes), but these are pretty straightforward in their style and pace. The difference for me here, however, is that I really don't know a damn thing about the topic (i.e., wrestling).

As the hubby used to enjoy it as a teenager, I had to ask him after, "Is wrestling usually that bloody?" I knew it was very showy, fake and crazy, but I guess I just never saw bloody moments before. It was pretty impressive. So whole new world for me, and I really don't need to see more. But the movie was very well done.

Though I do have one question.



Really? Oscar nomination?

I mean, she's totally cute and I'd take her rack any day, but if we're handing out nominations for cuteness and/or hot tits, I've got to rethink my entire list.

Seriously, I kept waiting for her role to BE MORE. No.

I really enjoy Marisa Tomei, but when you think about her last Oscar win for My Cousin Vinny, it's mind boggling. Actually, it's kind of insulting. I mean, same category and everything! Wtf?

And speaking of watching movies for Oscars, I finally bit the bullet and watched Tropic Thunder last night. It should be noted that I was drinking vodka and cooking while I watched it, but it was much funnier than I expected.



Everyone goes on about what a great cameo Tom Cruise has, but I honestly found Matthew McConaughey's turn much funnier. Though I honestly believe Tom should only do non-publicized roles from now on. It's the only cure to his overexposure.

And Robert Downey, Jr. playing a black man was not the offensive monstrosity I feared it might be. It was actually really clever, since the "token black man" is offensive as it is. And they do still make fun of themselves later anyway.



Again, you know I love me some Robert Downey, Jr. but I'm really not thinking Oscar. (That category is basically canceled this year anyway, with all the Heath Ledger drama, so it's not about to come up.) I just hate it when actors do incredible work and then they get nominated or win for some totally phoned in shlock (ok, that's not the case here, I admit I'm totally talking to you, Nicole Kidman). Anyhoo.

But overall, I definitely laughed in a few places I wasn't expecting, but I also recommend drinking and barely paying attention.

More Oscar watching to go; The Magnolia is showing ALL the shorts and goddammit I am really going this year. Really really really. Really.

Bite Sized Goodness: Oscars, Mickey Rourke, Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler, Milk, Tropic Thunder, Robert Downey Jr.

News in briefs

One stereotype I’ve never understood is the idea that feminists are dour and humourless. Most of the feminists I’ve known (and by that I mean women who actively characterise themselves as such, as distinct from women who believe in equality and empowerment and reproductive rights and so on, but don’t actually use the word, for whatever reason) have been very funny people. Especially the lesbians, they’re hilarious, and foul-mouthed too.

Granted, it’s usually a somewhat dark, gallowsy brand of funny, with a deep seam of absurdism, all the better to prick the pretensions of the patriarchy. And maybe that’s the problem; the people who find them humourless are probably the same people who characterise Morrissey or Harold Pinter as depressing. Arseholes, in other words.

Anyway, there’s a splendid manifestation of funny feminism going on in India at the moment. A group has formed to protest against the actions of a particularly repellent religious group called Sri Rama Sen, members of which were caught on camera beating up women who’d committed the outrageous sin of going to a bar for a drink. But instead of staging a grumpy demo, or writing angry letters to the press, the ladies, bless ’em, have formed a Facebook group called the Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women, and plan to give pink underwear to Sri Rama Sen members this coming Valentine’s day. The underwear thing is an allusion to the characterisation of extreme Hindu bigots as "chaddi wallahs", or shorts wearers. (Wodehouse fans will, I trust, immediately note parallels with the asinine wannabe Führer Roderick Spode and his black-shorted minions/morons.)

Sorry, there’s no punchline to this one, except that it brings a smile to my face to think that on Saturday, hundreds of reactionary bigots are going to have to explain to their wives why these pink thongs have started popping through the letterbox. In the meantime, if you can, do join the Facebook group to express your support, because, let’s face it, sexist violence isn’t funny, but pants bloody well are.

PS: More info here. You know, if this turns out to be some kind of marketing wheeze by, I dunno, Agent Provocateur or something, I’m going to be bloody angry.

I don't know you very well, you know, but I wanted to ask you - how'd you get Diane Court to go out with you?

Happy Birthday, silly goose!

I hope since the last time we talked that your days have been consistently happier. Getting a new job shouldn't be as intensely gruesome as it often is, especially with a resume like yours. Things will work out, if they haven't already, but at the very least here's hoping you have a great birthday.



I've actually been up fairly early this morning thanks to those incredible winds last night, so I got an early start on a recipe from Fine Cooking...they did a spread on carrot cake--traditional classic vs. updated innovation. And the newer ones look cute and all, but they are made into serving sizes and don't have icing. With carrot cake? Honey, no. Carrot cake is all about the frosting. Speaking of which, time to go lick the beaters. (And here's hoping I remember to turn them off first...)

Bite Sized Goodness: Sarah McLachlan, carrot cake, Say Anything

String theory

Still on the theme of Facebook’s apparently desire to become the Dremel Multi-Max* of Web 2.0. The thing is, most of us are capable of using various bits of the interweb, and joining any relevant dots when it feels appropriate.

For example: yesterday I was listening to David Suchet on Desert Island Discs, while reading Shane Richmond’s Telegraph blog. David was expressing his admiration for Joe Morello’s drum solo on ‘Take Five’; Shane, as I mentioned in a postscript to the previous post, was sticking up for Wikipedia in the face of what seems to be a particularly ill-advised rant from someone who is not, repeat *not* the offspring of a former deputy leader of the Labour Party.

Independent of conscious thought, my fingers reached for Morello’s Wikipedia entry, and discovered the fact (although the appropriateness of that word depends on the precise quantity of salt you choose to pinch when referring to Wikipedia) that he actually started as a violinist, playing his first solo with the Boston Symphony Orchestra at the age of nine.

But the bit that really impressed me was this:

At the of age 15 Morello met the violinist Jascha Heifetz and decided that he would never be able to equal Heifetz's "sound", so switched to drumming.

Which supports my contention that only a real genius understands how good he isn’t.

* Only follow this link if the phrase "oscillating tool" does not make you gurgle with merriment.



PS: I think if I ever find myself running a nightclub, “jazz casual” will be the dress code.

PPS:Even cooler Brubeck footage here.

This is pitiful. A thousand people freezing their butts off waiting to worship a rat.

I am so proud of myself. Yesterday I got my tires rotated like someone who actually takes care of her car. One of the little plastic valves had been recalled, so they took care of that as well. And then I paid someone else to clean the hell out of him. Hans is gorgeous and shiny now, like a new toy.

You're going to think I'm very silly, but I saw Cats! again last night. WHAT? I know. But I felt bad for having assumed D wouldn't like it, so I very whimsically grabbed him and we got to Bass Performance Hall by 730 (curtain at 8), not knowing if they even had seats. It turns out they had 2 sets of paired seats and which would we like? The ones on the 4th level? Or the ones in the orchestra box? Yeah, oh yeah, you know where we sat.

And holy shit! It was a whole new show! It makes me sad to say this, honestly, but so much gets lost the minute you leave the orchestra area. For this show, anyway. I could see detail and movement I had no idea existed; the show opened in darkness with cats in the aisles who had (electric) bright green eyes--totally missed that the other night.

And my tickets were actually cheaper than the other night because I didn't have to pay those stupid fees. And D very much enjoyed the show. I thought one of his favorites would be Mungojerry and Rumpleteazer and sure enough...

Afterwards, we went across the street for dinner at Ferre, an Italian place I've been quite curious about. I had the Sweet Potato Gnocchi (consisting of apple wood bacon, shallots, baby portabellas, filet of beef and cream--sans mushrooms because blech) and there really are few things as toe-curling savory as handmade pasta. Especially with red wine...I lingered to the point where the waiter tried to take my plate! Grr. I hope the bite marks on his hand heal.

Dessert was the Hot Chocolate Cherry Tart (dark chocolate and tart cherries topped with house-made crumble and served with vanilla gelato)--not quite what I imagined but happy warm deliciousness, in any case.

And now it's off to see The Wrestler! Finally starting to hack away at the Oscar nominations...

Bite Sized Goodness: Cats musical, Ferre, best Italian Fort Worth, downtown Fort Worth, handmade pasta

Nick Carter

Living in denial...

Nick Carter admitted that it took him seven years to admit that he has a drinking/drugs problem. I don't know how being arrested for driving under influence didn't help. Anyhoo, he is now stepping, saying that he's an out-and-proud ex-junkie or something of the sort - because he has been diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, a potentially fatal heart condition. More here.

Professional, foul

I've spent so much time and energy over the last year or so sneering at Andrew Keen and his anti-Web 2.0 spiel The Cult of the Amateur that it seems a bit superfluous actually to read the bloody thing, which I did last week. It would be charitable, if a little embarrassing, to report that I'd got the poor man completely wrong, and that his apocalyptic vision of the damage that blogs, social networks and Wikipedia are inflicting upon contemporary culture is bang on the money.

Well, it's not, but hundreds of others have already taken him to task over that, and I'm not going to chuck another bundle of twigs on the pyre just to make a point. That said, here's a very quick flavour of his argument: he expresses horror about a New York Times report that "50 percent of all bloggers blog for the sole purpose of reporting and sharing experiences about their personal lives."

Well, as that consummate professional, the blessed Gene Hunt would put it, "You make that sound like a bad thing." Keen joins all the other defiantly analogue numpties (Janet Street-Porter, Mary Dejevsky, etc) in making the reductive and simplistic assumption that because bloggers don't necessarily write brilliantly incisive news stories, they're bad at what they do; which is about as sensible as asserting that because Cristiano Ronaldo doesn't get many wickets, he's a rubbish cyclist. I thought we dealt with all this well over two years ago? Ah. I see we did.

So Keen's grasp of blogging and other manifestations of Web 2.0 is on a par with all those broadsheet journos who suddenly tried to get their heads round Twitter when Stephen Fry got on board. Little or no surprise there. But what astonished me about his book is the number of other things that he appears not to understand.

Let's take economics. Now, I can't claim to be the heir to Keynes or Friedman, or even Robert Peston, but I think even I can see the flaw in Keen's objections to advertisers running user-generated clips at the 2007 SuperBowl:

According to the American Association of Advertising Agencies, the average professionally produced thirty-second spot costs $381,000. Yet Frito-Lay paid a mere $10,000 to each of the five finalists on the table. That's $331,000 that wasn't paid to professional filmmakers, scriptwriters, actors and marketing companies — $331,000 sucked out of the economy.

"Sucked out of the economy"? Since when has a cost saving been money sucked out of the economy? It's not as if Mr Frito and Mr Lay went off to some remote Scottish island, KLF-style, and burned that $331,000. So it didn't go to filmmakers or scriptwriters: but Frito-Lay doesn't exist to keep filmmakers and scriptwriters in business. They could have spent it on salaries or shareholder dividends, they could have knocked a couple of cents off some of their products, or redecorated their offices or given it to charity; all of which would have seen that money re-enter the economy.

Later, Keen demonstrates further that sums aren't his strong point when he multiplies 99 cents (the cost of an iTunes download) by 20 billion (allegedly the number of songs 'stolen' by downloaders in a year) and makes $19.99 billion. Maybe he can use that stray 190 million to pay off all those scriptwriters who are going to have to sell their grannies because the likes of Frito-Lay have sucked all the money out of the economy, like big, cheese-flavoured Hoovers.

But this is just a sideshow to Keen's most egregious flaw. It's not just that he doesn't understand Web 2.0, the thing he's attacking; he doesn't even seem to understand old media, the thing he purports to want to save. The history of print and broadcast journalism is strewn with examples of corruption, hyperbole, political spin and honest-to-goodness mistakes. Yet Keen lays into the online video Loose Change (which claimed that the 9/11 were carried out by the US government) and the Moonie-owned webzine Insight — originally a hard-copy magazine — with its smears against Hillary Clinton, as if wacky conspiracy theories and politically-motivated muckraking were invented at about the same time as wireless internet.

Moreover, he seems to believe that one of the main things that distinguishes traditional media from self-defined citizen journalists is paper qualifications. "After all," he sneers, attacking the credentials of bloggers such as Markos Moulitsas Zuniga and Glenn Reynolds, "who needs a degree in journalism to post a hyperlink on a Web site?"

Well, I've written for major (non-Moonie-owned) print publications in Britain and Asia, which I suppose makes me a journalist of sorts. And I've never set foot in a journalism class. The closest I've come to proper training was in 1993, when I sat in a pokey little office near Carnaby Street while a former disciple of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh showed me how to sub-edit. "Above all, make sure it fits on the page," he said, and I think he was probably right.

In Keenland, it's not just journalists who need degrees and diplomas, though. He attacks Wikipedia by comparing it unfavourably with the Oxford English Dictionary, a product that apparently exemplifies the benefits of a properly trained and accredited editorial team. He neglects to mention, however, that two of the men most responsible for the success of the original OED, James Murray and Henry Bradley, were, by his own definition, mere amateurs, not even having attended university (a distinction they share with George Bernard Shaw, lauded by Keen as an example of the 'qualified' contributors that Britannica has and Wikipedia lacks). Incidentally, I got the information about Murray and Bradley, not from Wikipedia, but from a rather good book called The Meaning of Everything, written by Simon Winchester, who has worked with great success as a foreign correspondent for The Guardian and The Sunday Times. He read geology at Oxford, and I rather suspect he doesn't hold many journalism qualifications.

It would appear that Keen's (wilful?) lack of understanding even extends to the title of his own book. If we take the risk of conflating blogging and journalism under a general heading of people-who-write-for-public-consumption, what defines amateurs isn't lack of ability; it's nothing more than the fact that they don't get paid for doing what they do. Which may imply a lack of seriousness, but also frees them from a hell of a lot of other pressures, such as the demands of proprietors or advertisers. When he has a go at the "amateur", what he's really getting at, in his dim and disgruntled manner, is the "amateurish", a label that can be applied to a depressingly large chunk of professionally written product. Including, as I now know, Keen's own silly, ill-considered book.

PS: On the subject of Wikipedia's perceived shortcomings, Shane Richmond discusses the mysterious case of the phantom entry.

Dakota Fanning

Twilight: The Sick Twist

There are nasty rumors going around about Dakota Fanning and Robert Pattinson. Fanning is rumored to appear in the next "Twilight" movie, and that she's super excited because she has a crush on him. This is creepy and wrong. Not only is he a vampire, he's 22. She is 14. 22-14=8. Can't stress it enough. More here.

Hilary Duff

Bringing the 'B' in 'Bonnie'

Hilary Duff, one of the ex-Disney princesses, is back to bitchy. Remember her constant fights with Lindsay Lohan over Nick Aaron Carter (I know)? Well, now she was offended by Faye Dunaway who basically said that Hilary can't act worth a crap. A remake of 'Bonnie and Clyde' is being filmed, and Hilary is cast as Bonnie. Dunaway's quote? “Couldn’t they have at least cast a real actress?” Of course, Hilary had a comeback -

“I think that my fans that are going to go see the movie don’t even know who she is. I think [what Faye said] was a little unnecessary, but I might be mad if I looked like that now too.” Ouch.

I'm too young for 'A Chorus Line' and too happy for 'Les Miz.'

What a great night! There was everything from sparkling rhinestones to classic douchebaggery, what more can one ask?



First of all, since I went by myself, I had a box seat! That was very cool. Sadly, there were seven other people in my box. There was another single girl, and she and I were equally appreciative of the show and performances, but the other six people? No applause til the end, no laughter...why are you HERE? And all those seats are the same price, but the other girl and I were the two seats at the back of the box. Figures.

I was wrong to knock Cats!, it's really a lot of fun. It kicks off with all these Christmas lights strung up around the audience tiers and stage, very showy. I kept wishing I could have taken Fiona--I think she's at an age where she could sit still for it, possibly? It's just so showy and fun.

Before it began, they did their announcements, one of which was, "Candy wrappers are very distracting to the audience members around you, so if you really must eat candy during this show, please do so with the wrapper on." Word.

The whole thing was very enjoyable, but the Rum Tug Tugger was again a show stealer; he plucked a woman from the second row and tangoed down the aisle. Mr. Mistoffelees was a close second; honey, when I'm a Cat, I want to be the one decked out in a rhinestone outfit. Good thing his number's near the end, he's almost distracting when amongst the others.

After the show, I went across the street to the Flying Saucer (I actually didn't go beforehand) to meet my friend S., who was needing to take a break from her school projects. She was running late due to an accident in Arlington, so I sat at a table and read my book. Cue tipsy moron. (This is why I usually have my laptop...it's much easier to look busy and it's a great excuse why you can't talk...try that with a book, it's far less effective.)

First of all, he asks what I'm reading. I show him and of course he has no idea. He notices my Cats! program and proceeds to tell me how he saw it on Broadway but didn't like it, saying it was very disappointing considering how famous it was. I just said I didn't think it should be taken too seriously and that the nostalgia factor may help.

While I'm praying for S. to walk in the door, this dude sits himself down at my table. And then of course the waitress comes over and takes both our drink orders. I cannot be rude, but I know S. can be if I need her to. Luckily, she arrives moments later (wondering who in the hell has seated himself at my table) and can tell when I have to introduce myself with my fake name (which had yet to happen) where this is headed.

He proceeds to discuss the origins of our names (my fake name is S.'s real name) and S. totally ignores him while checking her phone. I think I noticeably glaze over. She and I attempt to talk about work around him, though I try not to be too rude. Finally, douchebag pays for his drink and leaves. WTF?

Aside from that, it was a great night. I had one beer and a big fat pretzel, so it was an altogether very pleasant evening.

Except for the part where I parked on the 5th floor of the garage. I parked by the stairs (no elevator on that side), so I had to haul my ass up five flights to get home. That sucked.

Miley Cyrus

Racist Cyrus!

The ever-annoying Miley Cyrus is the subject of yet another photo controversy. This time, she's being accused of acting all racist - for stretching the corners of her eyes in one picture. Now, as much as I dislike Miley, this is just bollocks. Of course she had something to say, but it's so ridiculous and predictable, I'm not even going to bother to type it here. She does compare herself with Britney at one point though. Anyways, my consensus is - if you didn't attack her when she covered Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun", you have no right to attack her now. More here.