Category: Joe Corey’s Party Favors

MALL OF AMERICA, MN – Help me! I’m trapped in line at the Pottery Barn and if this line doesn’t move faster my coupon will expire. They don’t always have two-for-one pickle fork deals. Sometimes I need to two-fist my dills.

Remember when stores had this concept known as customer service? When the folks working the register actually registered you as a customer? Half the time when I push my cart up, the person behind the counter is chatting with a co-worker. They will blindly start scanning my stuff without looking me in the eye or stopping their conversation. The machine with the money inside is not a watercooler. Look at me. Say, “Hello.” We don’t have to engage in a deep intellectual conversation about what’s the deal with Britney. At some point in our time together, you’re going to ask for money. When I open my wallet, I want to know that I’m handing my cash to someone who can at least fake that our time together mattered.

I’ve run a cash register before. I don’t expect you to do anything that I haven’t done for customers. The only reason you should be talking to a co-worker during “our time” is to get a price check. That’s it. You do not answer your cellphone when you’re scanning my stuff. If it is an important call, you can call them back when I’ve picked up my bags and said, “Thanks.”You can say, “Happy Holidays” to me since there’s so many damn holidays during this season. I’m not going to go John Gibson on your ass. Odds are that the stuff going in my bag is for this year’s Festivus dinner.

I don’t want have to take my action to the self service checkout. You know what that means? Why do they need to pay you to be customer service when customers can service themselves? You get laid off. The deal is simple. Say, “Hello” and act like I exist and I’ll make sure that you don’t get replaced by a computer.

HAPPY DVDS

With your favorite shows sliding into reruns thanks to the writers strike and Broadway going dark thanks to the stagehands taking to their own picket lines, it’s time to check out the DVD shelf. There’s a trio of TV shows that have released their third seasons. “Three of the Third” sounds like a new series on Lifetime starring Heather Locklear. But I won’t discuss my ideas for that show since that might be construed as pitching scab material by the SWG. Don’t want Brett Meisner deleting my column.

Happy Days: The Third Season brought the first major change to the long running series. No longer would this show be about The Cunningham family dealing with American life in the ’50s. Happy Days transformed into The Fonzie Show…featuring The Cunninghams. The first episode sets up the major changes with the title “Fonzie Moves In.” They come up with a real lame excuse to have Fonzie take residence in the space above the Cunningham’s garage. Now Fonzie could hang out in their living room every night. In the first season Fonzie was a semi-mysterious greaser who occasionally bestowed wisdom on Richie. He filled in for big brother Chip (who was always off at basketball practice). In season three, Fonzie said he was cool, but he spent way too much time with nerds like Richie, Potsie and Ralph. Instead of being dark and brooding, Fonzie became a comic character in a leather jacket instead of a shady outsider.

It’s hard to condemn this move since it elevated the show to the top of the ratings chart. People wanted more Fonz and less hardware stories. America was glued when “Fearless Fonzarelli” aired as a two parter. Fonz fears he’s lost his cool so he decides to jump 14 garbage cans on a slightly altered version of the You Asked For It TV show. The first episode finished with the Fonz frozen in mid-jump. America feared for a week that he’d be killed. Those of us in elementary school who didn’t understand that networks don’t kill stars swore Fonz would bite the asphalt like Evel Knievel. In season five they would repeat this plot when Fonzie jumps the shark. The big bonus in the DVD set is “The Second Anniversary Special” which was a clip show from episodes early in this season.

Mission: Impossible: The Third TV Season is considered by most as the pinnacle of the series seven seasons. This was the final year for Martin Landau (Rollin Hand) and Barbara Bain (Cinnamon Carter). They split the show over a salary dispute since Landau was supposed to be paid the same as Peter Graves. This final season of the master of disguise and the supermodel didn’t kill the espionage suspense that had been building from the first two seasons. They were a crack team and the off-camera animosity didn’t seep onto the film.

Greg Morris needs to be hailed for his groundbreaking work in the role of Barney Collier. He changed the course of espionage shows. Before Barney, the gadget guru was always a dweeb in a white lab coat who merely demonstrated the weapons to the sexy field agent. They were clones of James Bond’s Q. Barney’s character ran Collier Electronics as his day job. Instead of devising devices and passing them on to others, Collier operated them on the mission. He did as much heavy lifting as strongman Willy Armitage (Peter Lupus). Barney was the father of McGuyver. There should be a since award given out in Barney’s name to those that can concoct and execute.

My favorite episode of this season is “The Execution” where they construct a gas chamber to get a mobster to make an execution room confession. “The Freeze” has them trick a prisoner into blabbing about his hidden loot by a cryogenic subterfuge. The schemes they have to pull on their missions go beyond the first two seasons. For those of you with a foul taste in your mouth from the Tom Cruise movies, let me assure you that a majority of their missions do not involve them hunting down rogue former-Impossible Mission Force members. If you have fond memories of Mission Impossible, this is the season to snag and rekindle the passion.

The Wild Wild West: Season Three delivers the penultimate round of adventures. The series twisted the western by giving us two Secret Service agents with James Bond style espionage gadgets and buttkicking. And James West’s butt was what brought the ladies to the show. Robert Conrad’s pants were designed by NASA. Even in a long shot, his tight pants are obvious. Artemis Gordon (played by Ross Martin) was a bit of a Barney Collier with his creation of gadgets, but the duo seemed to get most of their prime weapons shipped in from the geek lab in D.C. Artemis was more concerned with being a master of disguise.

There’s only one episode featuring the diabolical Dr. Loveless, but it’s a good one. Jim and Artemis arrive at a funeral for “The Night Dr. Loveless Died.” They have to go through a series of clues to uncover the small villain’s final plot. “The Night of the Samurai” has them encounter Khigh Dhiegh, best feared as Wo Fat on Hawaii Five-O. Conrad looks great working the sword. Toshiro Mifune’s ass never looked as good.

The Paul Lynde Halloween Specialwins an award for the cheesiest DVD release of the year. The special starts off with Lynde thinking he’s hosting a Christmas special so you can play it this holiday season. This is pure ’70s bad variety show with Lynde doing a musical sketch dressed as a trucker. Check out his Paul’s chest hair. He’s joined by two legendary witches and Billy Barty. The big reason people will be buying this DVD is Kiss as the musical guests. Paul jokes about what their name really means. This should be essential holiday viewing with Pee Wee’s Playhouse Christmas Special.

ENOUGH OSMONDS!

During a musical number in the Paul Lynde Halloween Special, Donny and Marie Osmond make a surprise cameo. Why is it that I can’t turn on the TV without seeing Donny and Marie? She’s on Dancing with the Stars. He’s always on Entertainment Tonight. They were Larry King and Oprah. There’s rumors that they might get an offer to revive the Donny and Marie Show.

Let this be a showbiz lie.

Recently I rented The Best of Donny and Marie to refresh my childhood memories. This 2 DVD set promised 4 episodes. But each episode was sliced in half. This should have been a single DVD. The editing was disappointing, but ten minutes into the show, I was relieved that it would be ending soon. How was I entertained by this show? The sketches were corny. The music selections were worse than American Idol. Why did I panic to get home in time to see the show? Like everyone in the ’70s, I must have been on huge amounts of drugs. There’s no other excuse.

While people might complain about the number of reality shows clogging up TV, this nothing compared to the torture dished out in the ’60s and ’70s in the guise of variety shows. While there were exceptions (Dean Martin and Paul Lynde knew how to ham it up), the variety show is best remembered and not revived. These things were written by the same schmucks that scratched out the witty exchanges given at award shows.

YOU’RE TIRED!

After Donald Trump bragged about all the A-List talent that was going to be calling his hotline to take part in Celebrity Apprentice, the sourpuss billionaire announced the 14 Superstars.

First off, how did he get Omarosa? She didn’t even come close to winning in her first attempt. Jeopardy doesn’t have a “Mediocre Former Players Tournament.” He got Big Pussy from The Sopranos. Will he last longer than his tenure on Dancing with the Stars? Marilu Henner from Taxi.Shouldn’t she be praying for the salvation of Shemp’s soul? Stephen Baldwin? He’s the nutty Baldwin brother. That doesn’t narrow it down for you? He’s the Baldwin brother who loves being on Fox News. Model Carol Alt was hot property in the early 80s.

Gene Simmons took a break from being A&E’s superstar! Hopefully him and Trump will have a prick off. What’s longer, Gene’s tongue or Trump’s combover? Odds are all his projects will involve a Kiss logo and topless girls in thongs. How is Nely Galan, who had something to do with The Swan, considered a celebrity? We’ll all be amazed to see Olympic gymnastics gold medalist Nadia Comaneci three decades after her glory. Trump couldn’t land Mary Lou Retton? There’s country singer Trace Adkins. He sticks out since he has an active career as a performer. Playboy Playmate of the Year Tiffany Fallon will attempt to impress the judges with her cleavage. We’ll know if Ivanka Trump is a wild girl by following her eyeline when she dresses down Tiffany in the Boardroom. Olympic softball gold medalist Jennie Finch will hamburger helper her career by switching to reality TV. “America’s Got Talent” judge Piers Morgan will try to prove he’s not a Simon Cowell wannabe. Does Piers have talent?

Heavyweight boxing champ Lennox Lewis has found another excuse to duck a rematch with Klitschko. Another battler on the show is UFC’s Tito Ortiz. Has he won a match since I learned his name? Will Jenna Jameson help him out on challenges? Why didn’t she get chosen? She’s a star. Although she might be lined up for a very special season of Nip/Tuck.

These are 14 celebrities you can lock down when you need star power to open a Chuck E. Cheese in Las Vegas. Trump was promising Oscar winners and Headline makers. He was talking crap about wanting Rosie O’Donnell for the show. Instead he gives us Omorosa leftovers. Way to drop the ball, Trump. Celebrity Fit Club has more star power. Instead of playing for a job in the Trump empire, the winning “star” gets $250,000 to donate to their favorite charity. That’s a prize? These “celebrities” are their own charity.

TVBLAND

Who the hell did the voting for TVLand’s 100 Greatest TV Icons? How the hell did Don Knotts end up at 58 while Simon Cowell ends up at 47? Cowell has been phoning it in for the last four seasons on American Idol. He’s a parody of people who parody him. Don Knotts was comic gold. And Farrah Fawcett at 26? She’s an icon. But she was only on Charlie’s Angels for a single season. And why lump all the “Not Ready for Prime Time Players” into one vote. So Jim Belushi rates up there with John Belushi?

TVLand should just rank their 100 Greatest Reasons they’re getting out of showing vintage TV shows.

And what a lame easy list this Icon list is. Why doesn’t TVLand have 100 Greatest Character Actors in TV history? Where’s a tribute to Charles Lane? Blow us away with the various guest spots of James Hong! King of the creepy cameo: Bruce Dern! Rank the Landers sisters!

Remember that a good list shouldn’t repeat the obvious to the informed. It should shine a light on those that don’t have a publicity machine cranking their mega-watt empires.

My next list will have to be “100 Greatest Faces With No Names.” Or “Wasn’t that Guy killed in last night’s episode of Columbo?”

SPORTS HOTTY

Playboy Magazine is conducting a poll to determine the sexiest sports reporters on TV. They have the usual suspects of ESPN, Fox Sports and network ladies. When I think of sexy sports reporters – there’s only one: ESPN’s Tony Reali. The host of Around the Horn and beloved as Stat Boy on Pardon the Interruption can’t be denied that he’s got what Ashton Kutcher calls, “Man Pretty.” Reali also has the advantage of sharing a screen with Woody Paige and Tony Kornheiser. But he’d look hot around Jillian Barberie.

Hugh Hefner needs to put Reali on the ballot. How can you deny him his birthright?

CRUSH CRUNCH

Doesn’t Pringles in a bag completely defeat the purpose of being Pringles?

LINDSAY UNBARRED

What was the point of Lindsay Lohan serving 84 minutes in jail? The judge should have at least had her watch all 105 minutes of I Know Who Killed Me as part of her time behind bars. Or is that defined as torture by the Justice Department?

DALLAS – James W. Keyes is no longer on my Christmas card list. What did the CEO and Chairman of Blockbuster do? Let’s take a look at what he said during his little webcasted third quarter earnings report:

“A second move was to modify the offerings under our Total Access program to provide better value for by-mail only customers while also capturing greater returns from those seeking unlimited access,” said Keyes. “This was a conscious effort to prune the tree and in other words, we were willing to walk away from some of our subscribers, those at the far end of the usage scale who are not willing to pay a higher price for unlimited free exchanges.

One of those customers in fact was quoted in Newsweek saying, “in the nine months since I joined Total Access,” he said, “over 200 titles have been mailed to me. That is 200 titles that I returned to the store and got a freebie off of. It worked out to about 36 cents per DVD which means they lost a fortune on me just on postage fees.”

“Well, when we read that we challenged his math a bit; it is not exactly correct but he does certainly raise a good point. And the net result of the quarter, after our changes, was in fact a decline of about 500,000 subscribers, some of whom were in that category and whom we were happy to see move to the competition.”

In case you’re wondering, that was my quote from the Newsweek Online article. Thanks for trash talking me to the money. First off, Mr. Keyes, give me proper credit if you’re going to use my quote. My name was attached to the article. You didn’t have to do any real research. It’s called respect. Are you afraid to say my name, Mr. Keyes? Are you Shaq refusing to say Kobe’s name to the press?

My math deserves to be challenged. During the 8 months that I paid for Blockbuster’s Total Access, they shipped me 234 DVDs. And I exchanged them at the nearby brick and mortar store for new titles that rented for $4.25 a pop. So I paid Blockbuster $144 to be part of their club and borrowed 468 DVDs. I ended up paying 31 cents per DVD. Was Blockbuster paying less than 31 cents to mail me each DVD? And 31 cents to get it back? I also denied the cash register at my Blockbuster $994.50 when I walked out with my freebie DVDs. That doesn’t include the monthly free rental coupons and free rentals for Netflix envelopes. Throw those in deals and I made off with over a grand in “savings.” I never once paid for a rental.

I also never paid a late fee. I took advantage of their “No Late Fees” grace period. Those new rentals sat on my coffeetable for at least a week. I denied my local store 2 additional rentals when these titles were fresh and hot. That’s at least another $1,000 that didn’t work its way into Keyes’ Christmas bonus math. For my $144, Blockbuster paid for 468 stamps and was denied at least $2,000 in revenues. How many people not in my “category” were needed to balance me out in the books?

I’m curious about the “correct numbers” in Keyes’ math. How close was I to the accounting truth? He won’t confess since their special postage rate is a trade secret. No need to waste the facts on a former subscriber. But don’t tell me I’m wrong if you won’t confess what’s right.

It must burn Keyes that I’m the first customer to walk away from Blockbuster with the advantage. Millions of customers before me stormed away in a huff over an unexpected late fee that destroyed their children’s college fund. I could have sent a kid to Harvard on my Blockbuster savings. I’m speaking of Harvard Community College in Lower Botswatastan. Two grand doesn’t go far in the Ivy League. If you look at the brick and mortar register scoreboard, it was me “renting” 234 DVDs while the Blockbuster store collected ZILCH from my wallet. 234 to 0. Bill Belichick is disgusted that I at the lopsided score. How does the reverse burn feel, CEO Keyes?

Our final days as customer and CEO were pretty nasty. Keyes wants to act like I cheaped out and quit. He ignores the fact that with nearly two weeks left on my monthly payment, he froze my account. It took a threat of a class action lawsuit to get Blockbuster to give me my remaining two weeks of rentals. He was way too eager to kick me out of his little club. He didn’t want me to pay a little more. He wanted me banned for life.

About a week ago, I contemplated rejoining Blockbuster Total Access so I could nab the summer movies when they finally arrive on DVD. Thanks to Keyes acting like a jerk towards me, I won’t give him my business. Is this how you’re supposed to treat a customer? Who taught this guy business ethics? Did he skip the manners lecture? Does Keyes not understand that I’m his customer and he needs to treat me with respect and courtesy. Maybe he needs to take one of those customer service sensitivity courses? He should at least learn not talk while his mouth is full of his ass.

He might not like the fact that I rented 468 DVDs, but his company set the rules. He’s the one that signed off on commercials telling me all the marvelous things I can do with Blockbuster Online’s Total Access. I took full advantage of the deal. And now CEO Keyes wants me to look like the bad guy? Don’t take the conversation into that court, Keyes. Don’t make me look like a bad customer. You’re a lousy CEO, Keyes. You advertised an all you can eat buffet and threw a sissy fit when I went back for seconds. I beat you at your game and now you’ve taken your ball and ran home crying to momma like a little baby. Now you want to look tough around your toadies. Look at the scoreboard. You owe me a trophy for the pounding I gave your marketing team.

As far as Netflix goes, I never quit them because I sensed Total Access wouldn’t last. Reed Hastings hasn’t talked crap about me during his earnings report. Hopefully CEO Keyes can survive the holidays without finding my Seasons Greetings in his mailbox. Although if he approves another genius idea like Total Access, he’ll be found enjoying turkey at the rescue mission sharing a table with the brains behind New Coke, Analog HD and the XFL.

DVD-MANIA

With the writer’s strike in full swing, my normal late night TV viewing has been altered. Luckily there’s a ton of DVDs piling up on the coffeetable to hold back my Colbert withdrawals.

Ratatouille shows that Pixar has once again kicked Disney’s ass when it comes to feature animation. This is such a heartwarming story about a little rat who discovers he has a knack for French cooking. After watching it, I had to hit the Underground for Chef Daniel Taylor’s tempting sweet breads. Peter O’Toole needs to do more animated voice work. He was the perfect tone for the food critic. If I ever found a rat cooking in my kitchen, I’m still going to beat it to death with a frying pan. Ratatouille is my favorite film of the year.

When I have memories of turning on the TV in the 1970s, do you know what show appears on the fuzzy antenna attached tube in my mind? Why it’s Love American Style. This anthology series allowed sitcom actors to assume roles outside of their iconic characters. It was like The Love Boat without all the nautical nonsense. Love American Style, Season One, Volume One reunites the passion with the original hour long version of the show. In the last four decades, the show has been syndicated in 30 minute cuts. The three DVD set has the first dozen episodes which aired in 1969. They also restored the original Cowsills’ version of the theme song.

The DVD transfers look stunning when compared to the syndicated prints used Retro TV Network. On “Love and the Advice-Givers” Tina Louise’s red hair sizzles on the shiny disc. It looks mucky brown on RTN.

“Love and the Roommate” features Ted Bessell and his impeccable hair. Donald from That Girl finally dumps Ann Marie and hooks up with a Southern stewardess. He gets extra randy when he puts a move on her roommate, also a flight attendant. But since this is broadcast TV, Bessell can’t pull off the flying threesome. He plots to have his best buddy, played by John Beck (Moonpie from Rollerball, seduce his Dixie chick and leave the roommate in his direct flight path. Between Bessell and Beck, there’s enough studs to hang a mantelpiece.

“Love and the Modern Wife” has Bob Crane doing his greatest acting performance ever. How are we supposed to believe that he can’t score at a singles’ bar? Anyone who saw Autofocus knows that no lady ever escaped Col. Hogan’s stalag of lust. “Love and the Hustler” gives us the amazing trio of Flip Wilson, Eddie Anderson (Rochester from The Jack Benny Show) and Mantan Morland. Flip’s an out of control pool hustler who has to impress his new lady. Mantan is his usual brilliant self. Love American Style is a must for pop culture fiends.

If you’re looking for a holiday gift for the law student wrapping up their final semester, please deliberate over Perry Mason, Season 2, Volume 2 . I’ve grown addicted to watching this classic legal series on DVD. The new digital transfers are rich with the details flowing from the black and white frames. It’s like watching the show for the first time. If you’re a law student, Perry Mason is a good reference when it comes to the Bar Exam. After reading the question, ask yourself, “What would Perry Mason do?” And then eliminate that answer. In each episode Perry does something that should get him disbarred. How did Hamilton Burger keep getting re-elected district attorney since Perry burned his ass each week? Wouldn’t this be a great mudslinging point for his opponent? Or were other lawyers so fearful of getting their cases torched by Perry that they decided the job wasn’t worth it? My favorite episode from the second half of the sophomore season is “The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom.” Perry gets to tackle the subject of accidental bigamy.

CORRECTIONS & TIPS

Here’s a tip for young journalists: Don’t trust rock musicians when you meet them at Hooter’s around midnight. First off, Leif Garrett was kidding when he said he had an autobiography due out in 2008. His people told me he has no such book in the works.

Also Ian Mitchell was not part of the Bay City Rollers when they made their Saturday morning show with the Kroffts. Why did he answer my questions about working with H.R. Pufnstuf? I bet the Vito sisters would have known this fact. Why did Leif and Ian have to tell me stories?

Although here’s a story that our waitress Mandy told us. One night this guy comes in and sits in her section. He opens his wallet and pulls out ten $100 bills. “At the end of my meal,” he tells her, “You’re either going to go out with me on a date or I’m going to tip you a thousand dollars.” She thought he was lying, but he kept the money on the table. Mandy kept talking to him as only a Hooter’s waitress can. When he asked for a check, she asked for the date and sacrificed the money. Her thinking was that if he’s willing to blow a grand on a tip; he’s got to know how to treat a woman right.

Turns out he was lackluster as a dater although she went out with him a few times to make sure it was true. She got pissed off when he pulled the same $1,000 tip stunt at a crosstown Hooter’s during lunch before they were supposed to go out for dinner. Those Hooter’s waitresses like to talk.

If she had to do it again; Mandy would take the cash. If you ever wondered what’s the difference between a stripper and a Hooter’s waitress, it is this: A stripper always goes for the money.

NO ROYALTY

There will be no more talk here about the short guy in purple and heels from Minnesota since he promises to slap me with a court order. We’re not even allowed to use the color purple on this page since he owns the color. Although rumor has it that Donnie Osmond will be suing him for joint custody.

GEORGE PAID FOR THE SWARM

When will Hollywood stars stick it to Time-Warner for TMZ? How can you make a deal with a studio that unleashes their horde of video crews on Hollywood every night hoping to see you screw up? Does George Clooney understand that his Ocean’s 11 profits fund that greaseball stalking him outside your favorite watering hole? Will George and the TMZ cameramen share a table at the company Christmas party?

DOG BARKS

Why exactly is America shocked that Dog the Bounty Hunter uses racist language? Did I miss the memo that somehow the guy who dresses as if he’s an extra in Escape From New York is a model citizen? The guy is an ex-con and he spends his days hunting down criminals. Of course he’s not going to have the highest opinion of humanity.

The funny part of this meltdown is that he told his son exactly what to do with an audiotape of him dropping the N Bombs as if Michael Richards was auditioning for the Samuel L. Jackson role in The Quentin Tarantino Story. And for that he deserves to have his show yanked off A&E. The “E” is for Education and if you aren’t smart enough to stay out of the scandal sheets, you need to get off the channel.

It’s not like he quit his dayjob for showbiz. It’s back to keeping the scum off the sidewalks of Honolulu for Dog. Or are all the bail jumpers sent over from central casting? Was it all a made for TV fraud?

What it’ll take for Gene Simmons to get tossed into the vault? Confirmation of the rumor that Gene and Shannon Tweed were secretly married a decade ago? Or exposing that Gene has been faithful to her since they met? Could Gene’s notorious Polaroid collection be borrowed from the ghost of Bob Crane?

We all know that nothing can stop Criss Angel since his Mindfreak stunts have been exposed on Youtube and nobody cares. If Criss Angel was a real magician, shouldn’t he have a live stage show? Instead he does TV magic which features tons of cut aways and edits. Penn and Teller hit the stage and prove their slight of hand every night. The greatest trick Angel ever pulled was the invisible wife while he was getting kissy face with Cameron Diaz. I heard reports that when the cameras aren’t rolling, Criss’ accent disappears and he sounds like Edwin Newman.

Can someone explain why VH1 hasn’t yanked Hogan Knows Best? The son nearly killed a guy in a car wreck. He gets charged with reckless driving and drinking. The Hogan family issued a craptacular press release that declared among other things, “The tragedy to both families is compounded by the fact that unfortunately John was not wearing his seatbelt. Thankfully, Nick was wearing his.” Wow, it takes balls to blame the victim. One should always wear a seatbelt when the driver is drunk and driving like a maniac. Nice to know we live in an entertainment world where if you use naughty language, you’re banished from the boob tube. But if you put a man into a coma; your regular broadcast schedule will not be interrupted.

SING TO MY NUTS

MTV’s broadcasting of Legally Blonde: The Musical from Broadway disappointed me. While the singing and dancing was fun, the big moment from the movie wasn’t given a show stopping moment. Where was the song when the scummy Professor Callahan puts the moves on Elle Woods?

I was waiting for Callahan to lock the office door and break into a warm melody reminding Elle that “You gotta go down if you want to make it to top. There’s no glass ceiling between your head and my crotch! You’re going to do things that won’t feel right. Let’s start now so you won’t be tight.” Also there should be the lines: “I’m not old enough to be your father, but I’ll make you call me daddy.” “The jury in my pants is hung!” “I gotta cross examine all over your torts!” Imagine Callahan strutting around the stage to excite Elle with his thrusts. When Elle slaps him, you’ll swear he just blew his load.

We need a great Broadway song about sexual harassment. Pervs need theme music, too.

A SECOND TAKE?

The trio of girls from The Hills hosted the MTV broadcast of Legally Blonde. They kept giving this look to the side of the camera as if to say, “You want us to make an effort?” Is this part of their disguise to make us think they are somehow “real” and not actors playing roles on a scripted MTV series? Remember when MTV personalities had so much enthusiasm that we wanted them to shut up?

WRAP THEM UP

Why is every reality star that I despise shown decorating Macy’s for Christmas? Are they trying to completely alienate a consumer base that doesn’t want to contribute to the ego worship of Donald Trump, Jessica Simpson, Sean Combs and Kimora Lee Simmons?

How come Gene Hackman doesn’t have his own line of pants? I’d trust a pair of Hack’s Slacks for being comfortable and well fitting.

HELLISH

Who is this Diablo Cody and why must she walk the SWG strike line in Lolita glasses?

RESEARCH TRIANGLE PARK, NC – You never know who you’ll meet at an airport Hooters when the clock hits midnight.

Dan Pawlowski and I were enjoying a fine night of teasing orange shorted women, when a large group of people straggled inside. Dan swore they were in a band. I didn’t care who they were. I was negotiating a hula-hoop demonstration with Amanda, our waitress. After the hip twirl, we paid the bill and said good night. As we headed out, we spotted one of the group on the front porch. He was a middle aged guy with a shaggy haircut. Dan asked what band he was in.

Turned out it was Ian Mitchell of the Bay City Rollers. He’s part of the Original Idols on Tour with The Cowsills, Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods, Leif Garret and Barry Williams (you’ll remember him as Greg Brady). They had just done a gig down in Fayetteville and were flying out of RDU. He shook my hand.

I got to touch a real Bay City Roller. (Insert montage of screaming girls in ’70s hairdos.) Back in the middle of Rollermania, the Vito sisters were rabid about the Scot group. Their bedroom back in 1976 was covered in a montage of Alan, Leslie, Derek and those other guys in plaid. The Vito sisters had made their own jumpsuits with various plaid patterns that I think signified which Roller was the cutest. When I mentioned the jumpsuits, Ian reminded us that in Scotland, they’re called Tartan. Do the people in Edinburgh put plaidan sauce on their fried fish? I wonder if the Vito Sister would get excited if I let them touch my hand that touched Ian’s hand?

My biggest memory of the band is when The Bay City Rollers Show debuted on NBC’s Saturday morning line up. The band that made us sing about “Saturday Night” were expected to wake up America’s youth with the help of H.R. Pufnstuf. They took over the slot from Kaptain Kool and the Kongs. Ian swears that Sid and Marty Krofft were not on drugs. How can no one have been high in Lidsville? Unlike other stars who have made pleas for their old shows to come out on DVD, Ian doesn’t have an online petition begging for The Krofft Superstar Hour with the Bay City Rollers to be released as a boxset.

Without any prompting, Ian asked, “Would you like to meet Leif?” We said sure, if it’s not a bother. Shortly thereafter we saw Leif approaching the door. We figured he’d come out, shake hands and head back inside to be with his crew. He shook our hands, joked about our haircuts and then sat down. He didn’t mind talking with us. It was like we were doing the pre-interview for Behind the Music – Nearly a Decade Later.

Leif doesn’t have cable so he had no clue how popular his pioneering episode of the VH1 series had or how many times they were rerunning it. Leif’s episode was more than just a series of clips. When he was 18, he got drunk and loaded on Quaaludes and wrecked his car leaving his best friend, Roland Winkler, a paraplegic. The two had become estranged and Winkler’s mom sued Leif for millions. The episode had Leif finally apologize to Winkler. It was a powerful moment. Leif promised that what was shown on Behind the Music was real and not dramatized for the camera. Since that time he’s appeared on numerous other reality shows which according to him, aren’t that real.

He was supposed to appear at the Reality Awards with Johnny Fairplay, but the tour kept him busy that night. Leif pointed out that Danny Bonaduce had no reason to toss Fairplay over his head and bust his teeth. Turns out Fairplay had jumped and humped Bonaduce twice before. It had become a routine with the two. Leif said if Danny didn’t want it to happen, he could have stepped aside or refused to turn around. This might turn out to be an interesting court case.

Leif was in good spirits for a guy who over the years has been noted for his self-destructive ways. Part of this calm might be from his recent sessions with various spiritual healers. His reunion with his estranged father led him to record Neil Young’s “Old Man.” Leif and his guitarist performed an acoustic version of the song for us on the Hooters’ patio. It sounded great. He reminded me of the classic quote, “Frank Sinatra never wrote a single lyric, but every word he sang came from his heart.” Leif’s Three Sides of… album is due out Nov. 6. It features his cover of Roxy Music’s “Love is the Drug.” And Leif has done good with love having dated Nicollette Sheridan, Justine Bateman, Bebe Buell and Kelly LeBrock, pre-Steven Seagal. While dating LeBrock, he never saw anyone hate her because she was beautiful.

The best performance story Leif described was a gig in front of 35,000 screaming girls at the Houston Astrodome. He rode a horse onto the stage and didn’t mess up his white shoes on the backstage cow patties. Ask him about the Guinness Book record he set on that night when he belted out “I Was Made for Dancin.’” For decades he has shied away from his Tiger Beat musical career. When he performed live, he only dished out his rock side. But for the Original Idols tour, Leif is dipping into his bubblegum songs for the ladies.

While he’s mostly remembered for his musical career, Leif got his start as a child actor. He was on Gunsmoke and Family Affair. Plus he was Buford Pusser’s son in Walking Tall. During the talk, I joked about having kids at 80 on the Tony Randall plan. Leif replied that he played Tony’s son on the final season of The Odd Couple. He only had praise for his time with Randall. He was the son of Felix and Buford.

He had a guest role on Wonder Woman. I’m jealous that he got so close to those golden eagle wings on Lyndia Carter’s chest. He’s a real actor in my book because if I had to do that role, there’s be no way I could stand up in front of her red white and blue outfit. I’d be needing the Burt Ward treatment. And I’d be begging her to use the golden lasso on me between takes.

Leif told many stories during his chat about Shaun Cassidy, David Cassidy and Danny Bonaduce. I’m not going to repeat them since he’ll probably use them in his autobiography. No need to spoil the book. He promised that his autobiography shall be more torrid and scandalous than both volumes on Motley Crue. While you won’t get Ozzy sniffing ants, there’s a strange moment in Switzerland with Michael Jackson that will make you feel buggy.

This was probably one of the best nights to hang out with Leif. He’s a man who over the decades has received more publicity for his troubles than his achievements. When Leif is in a mellow mood, he’s the coolest guy around. I hope he stays that way for a while.

MY SO-CALLED WEEKEND

Why do “smart” shows about high schoolers rarely survive a full season? Square Pegs and Freaks and Geeks were dumped before their students took final exams. And such was the fate of My So-Called Life. It lasted 19 episodes before the kids were assigned to hiatus detention.

My So-Called Life reminds us of an era when angst filled teens didn’t shop for black clothes at Hot Topic. This was a time before kids spent school days text messaging. There was no MP3 downloading. They were simpler times in 1994. All Angela Chase (Claire Danes) cared about was getting Jordan Catalano to notice her. How could he miss her deep red hair?

The fine folks at Shout! Factory have just released My So-Called Life: The Complete Series (SRP $69.99). Unlike the barebones collection that came out five years ago, this new edition is packed with enough bonus features to allow viewers to become fanatics. There’s a fresh interview with Claire Danes. A cast & crew panel discussion at Museum of Television and Radio from 1995 gives a sense how they viewed their show all those years ago. There’s a 40 page book that chronicles the series. Janeane Garofalo gives a testimonial about what the show meant to her.

My fondest memory of watching the series was during one of my significant birthdays. I was on a sofa in the student union flocked by a pack of teenage ballerinas watching a rerun of My So-Called Life on MTV. I explained to the girls that Jordan Catalano was no good for Angela since his primary relationship is with his hair gel. She needed to hook up with Brian cause he might be a putz, but he’d clean up nicely in a few years. I don’t think they believe me. The happy thought was I was a middle aged man hanging with teenage girls without fear of the cops slapping the cuffs on me. Good times.

My So-Called Life holds up as entertaining as it explores those traumatic times of moving up to high school and rubbing shoulders with the big kids. There’s a lot of heart in the characters. They don’t come off as teenage soap opera figures. Hopefully modern teens can relate to a show that doesn’t feature iPods.

HOW THEY ENDED

Tony Soprano didn’t get whacked at the end of the series. He moved to Fire Island with Dumbledore. Every morning they whip up a batch of Johnny Cakes.

TIM WAS RIGHT

Have you noticed that Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas predicted the Fall of 2007? Can I shop anywhere that doesn’t have Halloween and Christmas crap piled together in the aisles? The Home Depot had an inflatable skeleton riding a motorcycle positioned next to the fake Christmas trees. What sort of message is being sent to kids when merchants combine green faced witches with bearded Santas? Should kids be good to get presents or wicked to receive candy? You’ve got Dracula fighting for space with the Baby Jesus. That’s wrong. We need to have a little separation of commerce and holidays.

While shopping at the Home Depot, they already had Christmas music playing. Do we really need to hear “Jingle Bells” while there’s still leaves on the trees? If this was a Christmas shop at the beach, I could understand the early start on the holiday season. But we’re talking a mega-hardware store. I want paint not an inflatable snowman.

What the hell will happen to Thanksgiving now that these two holidays have been joined at the hip? Will it get squeezed out of existence like Columbus Day? We’ve been so guilted out of celebrating Columbus Day that it took three trips to the mail box on that day to realize it was a post office holiday. Now that Christmas sales are starting around Labor Day, will the Friday after Thanksgiving maintain its luster? Next year they’ll be selling fake Christmas trees and inflatable snowmen with the 4th of July fireworks. People are jumping the gun like states pushing their presidential primaries forward. Every morning I wake up and check the news to make sure I’m not expected to vote. By the way, I’m still holding out hope for the Ben Gazzara and Robert Loggia ticket. Rumor has it that John Saxon has agreed to be their Secretary of State. Bet Ben Gazzara would put a stop to this Christmas before Halloween crap.

John Gibson’s “War on Christmas” attack has now turned into a consumer siege. You’ll be so burned out on December 25th that you’ll merely be thankful that you survived the Christmas marketing assault as you eat candy corn with your turkey.

TRANSFORMERS COME ALIVE

My brother Russ caught Bumblebee at the corner of La Brea and Santa Monica.

Remember – Transformers is out on DVD. It’s a small art film so hopefully your town is large enough to have a store that carries it.

Next year they’ll have Transformers on Ice coming to a rink near you.

DING!

Criss Angel has gone from mystifying to irritating. Him and Uri Geller are now hosting Phenomenon, a search for the next great mentalist. See if any of them can predict when I’ll give a rat’s ass. And I want the color of the fur on that rat’s ass.

NOT IN THE EYES!

Rumors are circulating that another sex tape featuring Kim Kardashian will be released. Please let this be a cruel lie. The world would be better off with a director’s cut of Van Helsing than seeing Bruce Jenner’s stepdaughter being humped one more time.

Normally watching a celebrity sex tape makes me feel a little bit guilty that I had to peek into their extreme private life. After watching “Kim K. Superstar,” I felt guilty that I wasted bandwidth. If suicide notes are a cry for help. Kim’s porn tape was a cry for attention. She didn’t want attention from mommy or daddy, but from casting agents and people who think Nicole Ritchie is a star. This wasn’t pornography of the flesh, but of dreams. Mainly her dream to become a national sensation with less talent than William Hung. But there’s a difference between her and Mr. Hung. What he lacks in range, he makes up in enthusiasm. Kim has a nice curvy body, but she doesn’t come close to using it. She keeps her bra on for most of the action. Maybe in this rumored sequel, she’ll keep her socks on. Heaven forbid she shows ankle while being pounded from behind.

My sofa was more involved when Jake the Wonderdog humped its cushions. Kim doesn’t merely lie there. She just seems lost. It’s not about the passion of sex for her. She’s screwing for Q points. Perhaps this video was meant to be her screentest for Lars and the Real Girl? Although she dose a poor job of keeping her mouth in the “O” position.

She almost makes me think that Andrea Dworkin was right.

A pal who does occasional work for Vivid Video said if that tape had shown up on his desk and Kim was merely a farmer’s daughter in Iowa, he wouldn’t even slide it over to his worst friend. “Not worth a Kleenex,” he said. If she wanted to be the next Sunny Lane, she’d starve to death. Her path to fame would collapse.

But E! is treating America to the next level of Kim’s road to stardom with Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Why? Blame Ryan Seacrest. She must be sleeping with him. Kim has to share the spotlight with her large family. Somehow we’re supposed to care that they run a little boutique. Judging from the lack of customers, it seems to be an excuse to get clothes at a discount.

The horrifying part of the show is Bruce Jenner. He’s the man who “gave us” The Princes of Malibu. Now we must suffer through more of his offspring. Bruce’s plastic surgery face makes him look like he’s transitioning into being a middle age woman. Seeing Jenner whore his Olympic gold medal ass for fame makes me appreciate the noble pursuits of Eric Heiden.

The first episode shows a family that is so ready to ham it up for the camera and willing to say anything during the interview set ups. These people seem too ready to share their drama with America. They’re worse than the Hogans and Simmons clans. Kim gets upset when she’s invited to go on the Tyra Banks Show and the supermodel kept going on about her porn tape. Kim was under the impression that Tyra would want to know about all of Kim’s other projects. Who cares? And how is Kim going to overcome the stigma of her porn tape? By posing nude for Playboy Magazine! Nothing proves that you’ve moved beyond porn star aspirations than showing your ass for Hef’s crowd. Maybe they’ll get her to remove her bra. At least in the pages of Playboy, she doesn’t have to worry about doing anything, except being naked, staying still and holding an expression. She’s got experience with that.

Maybe next season Ryan Seacrest will create a reality show around Sunny Lane and her parents.

BOWL ME OVER

How come the National Defense University doesn’t have a football team?

A SHOT IN THE HEAD

Why hasn’t the universe collapsed on itself in the wake of an MTV black hole called A Shot At Love with Tila Tequila? Why exactly are dozens of boys and girls lining up to date this woman? She has a million Myspace friends. Why? She looks like a living bobblehead. She was on a cover of Maxim! Wow. That’s a career right there. None of the “contestants” should be allowed to mate with organic matter. Although non-organic seems to describe most of Tila’s body. This is what happens when starfuckers are left to screw each others fame whore asses. This crew is worse than the suitors on I Love New York. This is pornography of the soul.

The worst part of the show is that she’s claiming she’s bisexual, but her final choice will either be a boy or a lesbian. Shouldn’t she be putting together a bisexual harem like Monique Gabrielle? Where’s the Big Love for a little lady? Why must she eliminate rather than accumulate?

I flipped over to watch a minute of the show and it was two guy beating each other up. Why does MTV need to exploit violence caused by women? Doesn’t anyone at MTV want their kids to be proud of their work?

One hopes that the people who don’t win their shot of love, will receive numerous other shots after this experience. Odds are that the beds in Tila’s reality house were the breeding grounds for the super bugs.

This show reminds me of the evil brought unto the world by Myspace’s Tom – who still owes me money. Tom isn’t my friend.

MUSTARD TEARS

Jim McKay must shed a tear everytime he hears, “You’re watching ESPN on ABC.” The network with the most honored sports division let the cable operation brand their broadcasts as if somehow they’ve sold that time block. Once men wore those yellow sports coats with pride as they reported for The Wide World of Sports. Now they have to bow their heads whenever Tony Kornheiser enters the room. It’s a good thing Howard Cosell is dead cause otherwise he’d never stop bitching about how the legacy of Roone Arlege has been desecrated in the name of Mouse Synergy.

Remember that ESPN was where sportscasters clustered when they couldn’t cut it in the mustard blazer.

Speaking of tears, what’s more annoying during the baseball playoffs this season: Frank Caliendo’s Frank TV spots, Dane Cook’s holding back a fart promos or Joe Buck and Tim McCarver’s booth action? You have to truly be a devoted baseball fan to suffer through this quartet to capture the action.

Jacoby Ellbury of the Boston Redsox is about to challenge Tom Brady for hottest hunk in Beantown. Wasn’t it ironic that a Navajo outfielder would deny the Cleveland Indians a World Series shot? At least the tribe’s Ryan Garko can spend this offseason corking more bottles of road champagne.

IT’S NOT NEW

Why are they still “presenting Blue from American Express” as if it’s a new credit card? This piece of plastic has been out since 1999. Nothing from the 20th century should be treated as brand new.

DURHAM – After decades of pathetic Blue Devil basketball players, there’s finally a Macho Man on the Duke campus. Randy Jones, best known as the Cowboy in the Village People, was an honored guest and featured entertainer at the NC Pride celebration on Coach K’s turf.

The Cowboy is the third most famous Tarheel behind Andy Griffith and Michael Jordan. Randy is a true Tarheel since he received a Morehead scholarship at UNC-Chapel Hill. He also has plenty of local ties with numerous relatives in the crowd. His charming cousin was running his booth where his recent solo CD Ticket to the World was moving at a brisk pace.

Randy doesn’t look close to the 55 he just turned. You wouldn’t accept his application for the AARP without two forms of ID. For a man who has spent the last three decades in the hectic world of Showbiz, he’s been able to keep the road years from turning him into Buddy Ebsen. He really should be on an infommercial selling us his skin care treatment.

The performance was fun at the outdoor event. Randy sang along with the instrumental tracks on a CD. While many people would taken back by just seeing one of the six Village People on stage, Randy gives more than 17 percent of a show. A majority of his set list featured songs from Ticket of the World. He opened with Kylie Minogue’s “Your Disco Needs You.” He bedazzled Glen Campbell’s “Rhinestone Cowboy.” At the end of the short set, he got the crowd up and signing with “YMCA.” Unlike the “Macarena,” it’s still fun to make the YMCA letters.

Even though he’s no longer a touring member of the Village People, Randy’s been extra busy with various projects including the solo record. We chatted briefly before the performance. He had driven up to the festival from his beach house on the NC coast. (He also has a place in the Village). Since he travels a lot for business, he rarely hits the road for vacation. He was heading out to Arizona for his next performance. Recently he hosted a disco themed Carnival cruise ship which didn’t dock at Key West, but went to St. Thomas instead. He’s an icon in overdrive.

Earlier in the year, Randy was a celebrity panelist on “Paint That Naming” (they had to jumble the title to avoid a lawsuit from the Name That Tune owners). Along with Randy, the namers included artist Nicole Eisenman and Michel Gondry (director of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). The internet show is a hoot as group of folks compete to name Mark Kostabi’s latest art for $20 a pop. This show ought to be on Bravo. I want to be a panelist. Paint That Naming looks cooler than Celebrity Jeopardy. Towards the end of the episode, Randy performs “YMCA” with the house band.

He’s promised an in-depth interview to the column. We must find out if Stephen Colbert wants to comb his mustache. What was it like to take direction from Rhoda’s mom? How to know if you’re paid too much for your chaps? If you want to figure out if Randy’s riding into your town or info on how to get his record, visit RandyJonesWorld.com.

HALL OF LAME

Anyone thrilled by this year’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominees? Besides the mothers of the nominees? Jann Wenner (publisher of Rolling Stone) and his committee have given us more head scratching than toe tapping.

We get dance acts in Madonna, Chic and Donna Summer. They poured on the rap with the Beastie Boys and Afrika Bambaataa, Completely out of left field is folkie stud Leonard Cohen. Once more, the rock acts are in the minority with British invasion vets the Dave Clark Five, surf instrumentalists The Ventures and man who dumped Diane for a supermodel, John Cougar Mellencamp. Of the nine acts, five will soon be elected. Actually there’s only four of eight since there’s a “lock” in the pack. Turns out Wenner was exposed for yanking the Dave Clark Five to put in Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five at last year’s ceremony. The Dave Clark Five will be elected or there will be lawsuit. I hope Dave has been practicing his “surprised to be a winner” smile instead of a “pissed off for being robbed” scowl.

Why did Wenner cheat the voters of their power? Perhaps his masterplan featured the Beasties going in this year. Imagine how the rap community would feel if a trio of white knuckleheads who started out as a novelty act talking about “Fighting for your right to party” gets into the Hall before a serious contender? Rappers would consider the Hall a fraud like a the rest of the music world does.

According to way too many sources, the whole nomination and electing of winners has been reduced to one man: Jann Wenner of Rolling Stone. Yup. He’s stacked the nominating committee with his pack of Stoned bitches including Toure! Having seen this Toure guy on various talking heads show, he’s never struck me as a fan of rock and roll. And judging from this year’s nominees, Rock and Roll seemed to be the lowest priority for an act to be nominated. How can only a third of the nominees be rock acts? This isn’t the Pop Music Hall of Fame. This is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Another problem is that the Hall isn’t about who deserves a plaque on the wall, but what acts can attract a crowd willing to spend $3,000 for a plate of rubber chicken. Madonna, the Beasties and Johnny Cougar are locks based on this requirement. This leaves one slot which might go to Chic since Nile Rodgers has a Madonna connection.

Since he was one of my favorite interviews, the Party Favors is backing the campaign of Leonard Cohen. “Don’t Go Home with Your Hard-on” has more rock to it than “True Blue.” Plus Leonard needs the cash before the IRS goes Willie Nelson on his ass.

The Beasties induction is disturbing since the Hall is counting their Polly Wog Stew EP from when they were a teenage punk band. Think how many years it took Van Halen and ZZ Top to get inducted and Jann lets the Beasties waltz in on music that doesn’t have a thing to do with why the masses embraced them. Next year they’ll induct Good Charlotte based on an answering machine messages left by the twins when they sang “Happy Birthday” to grandma. Why should the Beasties “punk” efforts get them into the Hall before Black Flag or Minor Threat?

You might think the 9 nominees are great, but here’s a few folks that Jann hasn’t allowed to be inducted (or even nominated in many cases): Roxy Music, Todd Rundgren, Steve Miller, Chicago, Motorhead, Laura Nyro, Tom Waits, Warren Zevon, Heart, Kate Bush, Cheap Trick, Yes, Gram Parsons, B-52s, The Cars, Emerson Lake and Palmer. Joe Meek, Journey, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, King Crimson, New York Dolls, Iggy and the Stooges, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and Kiss. That’s plenty of Rock and Roll acts. Why are we staring at only three rock nominees this season? Even from a pop perspective, how can Abba, Hall & Oates and Neil Diamond get brushed aside? Are they just not hip enough for the cover of the Rolling Stone? Where’s Wolfman Jack? He’s rock and roll.

Before the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame starts overwhelmingly inducting disco and rap acts, they need to at least get the major job of Rock and Roll on the walls. I don’t see VH1’s Rap Honors inducting Allen Sherman for his pioneering work known as “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh” aka “Camp Granada.” He’s got as much to do about bringing rap to middle America as Madonna has for rockin’ out.

Rumor has it that Jann’s biggest wish is to induct Yoko Ono. He’s plotting to sneak the Plastic Ono band onto the podium to fulfill this dream. Who can resist another induction of Eric Clapton and John Lennon? Yoko is just a bonus in that ballot. He must be stopped. In four years he’ll have Don Johnson inducted since his magazine did declare “Don Johnson: Rock & Roll Star.” Wanna know who got in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before Steve Miller? Jann Wenner! He’s got his plaque; screw off, Space Cowboy!

Fox’s Roger Friedman wants a boycott of Rolling Stone magazine. This is futile since who buys the magazine? Great aunts who want to find out what’s happening with Bobby Sherman. Rolling Stone is the obituary column for culture. Once they report it, we know it’s been dead for a year. Instead of a boycott, let us all plead for Paul Shaffer to lead a coup d’état at the Rock Hall of Fame. The only way to save Rock and Roll is to destroy the Rolling Stone‘s control over the ballots.

The good news for any band that was ignored this year is that they won’t have to endure Velvet Revolver butchering their hits.

RED IN MOTION

After the last column’s mention of redheads in cable knit sweaters, I received an email directing me to www.officialstrawberryblonde.com. The site has Strawberry Blonde’s video for their single “Do It to the Music.” The music video opens with lead singer Angelica Bridges wrapped up in black sheets of a bed. That grabbed the eyeballs. It harkens back to those days when music videos were more than guys mugging to a fisheyed lens. The song has a cheesy ’80s synth-dance feel to as it plays with the beat of Madonna’s “Everybody.”

My only question, does she make chowder?

MUST CARPETBOMB TV

Why must NBC put their new prime time shows on every cable channel they own? While flipping around over the weekend, I couldn’t shake Chuck. It was on every channel like Stepmom or The Wedding Singer. I watch Bravo to catch up on Top Chef, I don’t want to see Bionic Woman on the schedule. Bravo is all about me fixating on Padma’s arm scar. She beats Tina Fey’s scar.

The sad truth is that none of these new NBC shows look like they’re slumming it on the cable channels. Chuck and Life look perfect on USA. Journeyman and Bionic Woman blend with SciFi’s original output. Nothing screams “Network!”

Thank goodness Dexter has returned to Showtime. And for the first time ever, Showtime is waxing HBO’s ass for original series. Even with the promise of sex, Tell Me You Love Me is too depressing to endure on a weekly basis. It makes Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes From a Marriage resemble Everybody Loves Raymond. And this new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm rubbed me wrong. After five minutes, I turned Larry David off. The show is now on the OnDemand list. With Dexter, Weeds, Californication and Brotherhood, Showtime has taken the lead. HBO is running on pure legacy fumes until the final season of The Wire airs. They shouldn’t have killed Deadwood.

PUNT & BEAN

How many times a week do you get junk mail from sports channels? Lately the NFL Network is doing a safety blitz to get me to beg Time-Warner cable to put their channel on my box. Mid-Atlantic Sports Network (MASN) peppers me to plea for Baltimore Orioles and Washington Nationals games to return to the Raleigh area.

Here’s a simple reply to them: Why?

What’s the point of the NFL Network? Even during the heat of the football season, who doesn’t get enough football news from ESPN and online? Hardcore gamblers and bookies? Why would I need to watch the NFL Network in May? Is it really that entertaining to see defensive ends disco dancing? News? Why bother with league authorized press releases before the Boston Globe gets beneath the marketing jargon? Sure they broadcast a handful of games during the season, but the guys in the booth were pathetic. Why Bryant Gumble? Do you really think he’s Mr. Football? Joe Namath and a bottle of Wild Turkey should call the game. On top of it all, the NFL Network refuses to tell me how much they expect to jack up my cable bill. How much does loyalty cost, Commissioner Goddell?

MASN is even worse. They want two channels on my cable dial to see the Nationals and Orioles games. Two losers for the price of one! They keep harping on the fact that for over 20 years, the Orioles games were on Raleigh cable (back when they were on HTS). I rarely encounter Orioles fans around here. Why does MLB call us an Orioles’ territory? You’ll find more Yankees, Cubs and Redsox fans in this area. Ever since Cal Ripken Jr. retired, has there a reason to watch? The plea from MASN tries to appeal to us by pointing out how many Redsox and Yankees games end up on their schedule. That’s all fine and dandy except this basic fact: Why do I want to listen to a pair of Baltimore homers dissing on my team? When my team leads, the announcers are talking about their pack of losers making a comeback. Those of us who are fans of Yankees and Redsox would rather have those two cable channels used for YES and NESN instead of a pair of basement dwellers. You shouldn’t have to pay for losers.

DIM YOUR SCREENS

While driving home the other night, the car in front of us had its flat screen TVs on the headrests blaring. It was like they had their bright headlights going. If no one is sitting in the back seat watching the screens – turn them off! You’re being a distracting menace to the rest of us. What made the matters worse was the driver kept swerving in the lane like he was drunk. When we pulled up beside him, we could see his dashboard’s screen showing the same movie. Aren’t there laws against this crap?

Luckily we were able to pass him on the green. Last thing I want is to have my car wrecked because this moron was getting too pumped up watching Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer.

STRANGER OF DISASTER

Good to see Richard Edson playing Risk in the Traveler’s commercial. He’s got a great face for inadvertent destruction. His appearance reminds me to pick up the new Criterion DVD of Stranger Than Paradise.

I’m rooting for the English guy who keeps finding the internet for AT&T decides to seek signal from inside a shark tank.

NOTICE

If you don’t hear from me in the next few weeks, it’s because I’m watching Twin Peaks – Definitive Gold Box Edition. Finally after years and years of people craving, they have put together a DVD set that has nearly everything linked to the Twin Peaks TV series. It doesn’t have the Fire Walk With Me feature, but without Sherilyn Fenn, the movie falls flat for me. Both seasons and the pilot movie will finally arrive on Oct. 30. This means there’s no reason to watch Chiller on the Dish.

MAKE UP!

If Fred Thompson wants to save his presidential campaign, he needs to dump his advertising. He can’t run like a normal politician. He needs to take a page out of the actor’s Bible. How do you get a major role? You screen test! Thompson needs to show America how he’d react in various situations. Instead of answering the Jack Bauer tortures the terrorist question, recreate the moment when you give order to Waterboard the truth to save America. Show us the power in your hand when you smackdown the Veto stamp to stop the pork. Give us the look when you face down a fellow actor playing the head of Iran. Let us see that you’re not merely an actor, you’re a performer! Give us 60 second screen tests to let us know “that guy’s a president!”

Did you know Shirley Jones is an informal consultant to Hillary Clinton? Ever since Hillary embraced the zen of Shirley Partridge, her campaign has taken off. She’s even doing Shirley’s laugh to get out of tough questions.

SICUATE, MA – The white capped waves roll over the boulders and slam against the sea wall as a constant drizzle covers me. They call this chunk of coastline the Irish Riviera for a reason. This is the kind of moment that demands a redhead in a white cable knit sweater offering me a bowl of clam chowder while Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks leaks from behind the storm door. If I grew out my bald spot, this would be a perfect Bono moment.

Little did I know while staring at the sea that Brett Somers had passed away. Why weren’t the Post Office flags lowered to half mast? Why didn’t Dancing With the Stars get interrupted so the President could comfort us in this time of national grief? Why didn’t Time-Warner cable return GSN to the normal digital package so we could remember her greatness in a marathon of Match Game episodes? How could America go to bed without tears? Brett Somers was gone!

It was strangely appropriate that timing worked out this way. For it was in the greater Boston area that I discovered Brett during her glory days on Match Game. Summer vacations with the relatives always involved going up to my great uncles’ apartment where they religiously watched Match Game on their huge (for the time) color TV. My uncles weren’t the greatest of conversationalists so the wit of Brett and Charles Nelson Reilly dominated the room.

Brett and Charles came off as a great married couple. They knew how to poke each other without turning it into a brawl. Where does one go nowadays to see a “healthy” married couple on TV? Today’s TV watching child gets an afternoon of married couples brawling on Springer, cheating on Maury and being pathetic on Dr. Phil. Who wants to get married after seeing these sub-humans that have zero interest in being monogamous? Where’s the joy? Brett and Charles did more to defend marriage than a Congress full of divorced, closest cases. They practiced the fine art of prick and caress.

Brett was the greatest aunt that I never had. She was the great aunt that always forgot to send a birthday check, but I didn’t despise her for such a misgiving cause her visits were the greatest of gifts. Plus she was probably too buzzed on the Match Game ‘s cocktail cart to remember what day it really was. Why do people get uptight when celebrities appear on TV drunk? Brett was a fun woman on the Friday episodes because she was so buzzed. We need more happy drunk role models instead of the nasty drunks that appear on Cops.

Like Charles, back in the ’70s, a kid didn’t have a real clue why Brett was famous enough to be a regular on Match Game. How was I supposed to know about her Broadway career? Not all of us were born to be Frank Rich. But it was a thrill to see her as Oscar’s ex-wife on The Odd Couple TV series. She really could act when standing up. The recently released The Odd Couple: The Second Season contains her first appearances on the show. There’s a great episode where she, Oscar and Felix recall the New Year’s Eve party that lead to the divorce. Besides being a great aunt, she made the perfect ex-wife. Indeed she was so superb in the role that Jack Klugman and her separated while The Odd Couple was aired. They never divorced.

In barely two years time we have lost Nipsey Russell, Charles Nelson Reilly and now Brett. The greatest top row combination on Match Game has left us. Whenever lightening cracks across the sky, I shall tell my children that Brett has embarrassed Gene Rayburn. At least we still have Richard Dawson to give us a good shot at the Super Match. There’s always Fannie Flagg and Patti Deutsch to give us that last shot of matching redemption. Although if it comes down to Patti, you’re screwed. She was nuts in her answers.

Since there will be no national day of mourning for Brett and you might not get GSN (thanks for nothing, Time-Warner cable), may I recommend you pick up the boxset of Match Game or The Second Season of the Odd Couple. Remember that as long as Brett’s on your TV, she’s really deep in your heart.

ANOTHER SOX MOVIE?

The real reason for the visit to Boston is that I scored tickets for the Redsox-Yankees game for the September 14th game at Fenway. Amazingly enough the folks at the ballpark allowed me to take my video camera for a tour and during the game. I’m in the process of editing Riding the Monster. It’ll be posted here in a few weeks.

What does the film hold other than a vanity piece about me and my standing room space? I uncover the dark secrets of Fenway including the NL part of the Green Monster scoreboard, how they get water to the infield and the mysterious door in the owner’s box. Plus there’s footage of Peter Gammons talking to Joe Torre. And Jackie MacMullan of Around the Horn waves at the camera.

One moment I couldn’t shoot was when John Henry, the owner of the Redsox, came down the aisle toward me. I’ve joked in the past that Henry reminds me of David Bowie’s alien pal in Man Who Fell to Earth. Up close, he’s a bit not of this earth. As he approached, I said, “Nice evening for a game, sir.” At the time the Redsox were up 7-2. He gave me this puzzled nod and then kept walking. I’ve met other sport team owners. They’ve always been willing to able to say a real response and thanking me for coming out to the game. I flew hundreds of miles to stand for five hours. And he gives me a semi-brush off that I’d expect from George Steinbrenner. Jackie MacMullen waved from a distance. Maybe I should cut the guy some slack since his hedge fund has gone from $2.9 billion to $1.2 billion. Maybe he was trying to remember where he lost the TV Guide since there might be a billion stashed in the cover.

If you follow sports, you’ll realize that my game was known as the bullpen meltdown. The team entered the 8th leading 7-2. Then the allstar relief pitchers of Hideki Okajima and Jonathan Papelbon were destroyed by the Yankees. The inning ended with the Bronx Bombers leading 8-7. What went wrong? Who do we blame? I blame the usher in my section. Right before the start of the 8th inning, this guy went around with a box of Klennex. He handed everyone in a Yankees hat or t-shirt a tissue. He jinxed that bullpen. Do not tempt fate in Fenway. There are more prayers said every game in that green paradise than any mega-church’s midnight Mass. There’s no cockiness in Fenway. We’ve seen victory go into the dirt. Don’t you be thinking Bill Buckner. You must remember that if Bob Stanley hadn’t thrown the ball into the dirt, the Mets wouldn’t have scored the tying run. While Buckner blew the catch, odds were good the Sox would blow the ’86 World Series in extra innings. All Bob Stanley had to do was put a strike into Rich Gedman’s mitt and the game was over. Oh the agony. Now I must think about the 2004 World Series. Now it’s all good. Did you know for a week after they claimed the title, I feared the Redsox would lose the trophy because of a crazy ruling from the commissioner about a bylaw involving an illegal pinch hitting substitution. It can happen.

I don’t know the name of the usher that handles the first base side standing room area at Fenway. But if you see him holding a Kleenex box, rip it out of his hands. Don’t let him curse the Sox.

We were disappointed at the loss, but after watching nearly five hours of a nine inning ballgame, we were exhausted. We could have had our mail forwarded to Fenway. Although it would have to be General Delivery since we were standing roomers. Even with defeat, it was beautiful to witness the glory and the spite in person. At this moment, there is no greater rivalry than Sox-Yankees. And there’s no sweeter moment than watching my wife stare out at the field and scream, “A-Rod, you suck!!!!”

Now I need some Klennex.

OWEN OUT

In a shocking move, the Wilson family has announced that they have placed Owen on waivers and have replaced him with Matthew McConaughey. “Owen isn’t upholding the Wilson brand. His personal life has overshadowed our public persona. Too much heaviness. Sure Matthew has had his troubles with the law, but getting high and naked while playing the bongos appeals to the Wilson brand,” a source close to Luke Wilson reportedly said. “Plus he’s a Texan like us.”

Is it proper to hate on Wes Anderson because he’s allowed his personal fashion sense to overwhelm his movie? Why does the New York Times have to give us the inside skinny on his suede shoes? We used to wear those semi-Hush Puppies in Catholic High School (sneakers were banned). Does that mean I went to a “peripatetic” hot spot? And he “discovered” the Kinks’ Lola Versus Powerman and the Money-Go-Round, Part One! Wow. That’s really f’n obscure. I bet there’s not a single classic rock station that has ever played a track off that Kinks record. Maybe someday he’ll dig up an Atomic Rooster track. We also listened to that at Cardinal Gibbons High School. Is Wes Anderson really that far beyond us or is he merely aping school kids from decades ago?

Are we supposed to feel pity for Wes because he can’t slumber without his embroidered pajamas and dainty sleep mask? Oh the burden of being trapped in Wes Anderson’s creative body. Maybe he’ll have a dream of Lee Marvin kicking his ass for being such a major wuss? Guess it is easier to go on about a sleep mask than deal with the issue of a guy playing a suicide case who turns out to be a suicide case in real life. I’m already sick of The Darjeeling Limited.

McLOVIN MOMENT

For those who are fans of the movie Superbad, my brother Russ made a video visit to the convenience store featured in the film.

Fake IDs will be appreciated.

TASTE THE PARADISE

There’s a nasty rumor on the internet that I was Anthony Bourdain’s guide on the Travel Channel’s No Reservations. According to those lying sources the episode was called The Air Conditioned Nightmare Part 2. Instead of treating Bourdain to Southern delicacies like his visit to Charleston, South Carolina, I forced him to experience the New South. Instead of Mama Dip’s, Wilbur’s BBQ and the Underground, he was treated to the TGIFridays, Ruby Tuesdays, Olive Garden and Red Lobster. If you want to believe the internet, an assistant editor lost their will to live while watching Bourdain and myself chow down on the newest Southern favorite delicacy: The Bloomin’ Onion at Outback.

Allegedly for fun, I took Bourdain to the Crabtree Valley Mall where I mourned how Spencer’s Gifts is gone. Where will the kids go for their dirty birthday cards with hot firemen studs hauling their hoses and overweight women in bikinis? After nearly 30 years, the dream is gone at my crummy mall. He may bitch about what MTV and Disney did to Time Square, but where will I go for my Kiss salt and pepper shakers? Sure they have a Spencer’s at the new mall across town, but this place had tradition!

Afterwards we went to an indoor batting cage to practice where the pitching machine had been altered to throw beanballs at 8 year olds. Why should Les Moonves be the only one to profit off abusing children on TV? The big finale was a midnight visit to the Krispy Kreme where we each ate a dozen hot glaze donuts right off the rollers. There was medical personal nearby in case we got holes burnt on our inner cheeks. We wrapped up the night by throwing rocks at Clay Aiken’s house. Don’t you want to call your travel agent and live the dream?

Of course all of this is a lie and the Travel Channel will deny that this shoot ever took place. Bourdain will admit that he’s never heard of me and that he didn’t drive off with my copy of Television’s Marquee Moon in his rental SUV’s cd player. Although if you catch Bourdain slumbering on a flight from Tangier to Taos, you might hear him mutter, “Joe, not another Chalupa!”

NIGHTMARE OF RAMSAY

Speaking of celeb chefs, Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares lost its identity when they imported it. If you’ve seen the version that runs on BBC America, you’ve witnessed a series that feels like a sweet documentary as Gordon peacefully helps out troubled restaurants. There’s a civility as he transforms the troubled into the healthy. His personal voiceover has a tinge of grace. If you watch Fox’s remake, you’ll experience a cross between Jerry Springer and Extreme Makeover: Dinner Edition. Plus they hired that over dramatic voiceover guy from Hell’s Kitchen to hype rather than tap into Ramsay’s thoughts. The pilot episode was unbelievable. They found a restaurant that served him the worst food on his first visit. The chef didn’t seem to give a crap that he needed to serve up the A game to Ramsay’s plate. What self respecting chef would do that? The restaurant was a complete mess. Wouldn’t you clean up the joint if you knew a network show was arriving? When grandma visited, you cleaned the toilet. Why wouldn’t they make sure everything is picture perfect? The owner of the place kept attacking creditors on the outside sidewalk. He even threw his elderly father to the concrete in his rage. Can this really be real? Do people really act this way when “reality” cameras appear in their life? Or is this the price they have to pay for the show to provide them with all new kitchen equipment?

I felt that Ramsay was a loud mouth fraud on Hell’s Kitchen. What’s so special about risotto and Beef Wellington? But when I caught a few of his peaceful BBC shows, I saw the guy as a creative chef who was passionate about the dining experience. Why did Ramsay have to destroy his image again? What’s he doing on his show that wasn’t captured on the episode of I Pity The Fool when Mr. T saved an Italian restaurant?

Before he saves anymore kitchens, Ramsay needs to save his identity.

KELLOGG’S KILLER

Why do the folks at Kellogg’s want to kill your children?

I’m not talking about the corn syrup they use to sweeten your cereal instead of sugar, nature’s sweetener. They created the most horrific idea ever for a children’s snack: Lego Fun Snacks. You think I’m lying? Look at the proof:

http://www2.kelloggs.com/Product/ProductDetail.aspx?product=8213

The evil scientists at Kellogg’s have devised the most destructive snack treat of all time. How many times do you have to tell a small child to not put Legos in their mouth? How many times were you told that Legos were not food? And how many kids get rushed to the emergency room because those colored building blocks were too tempting?

So what the hell do the fine folks at Kellogg’s do? Make it so kids can finally eat their Legos. This would all be fine and dandy if there were no more non-edible Legos at Toys ‘R Us. But we don’t live in that world, do we? You may say I’m over reacting. Do you believe that two year old kids are smart enough to tell the food and the toy apart? While I’m not a complete expert on 2 year olds, I do have experience taking things out of their mouths. They’re like dogs when it comes to putting crap in their mouth. You have to train them and when something comes along that ruins the “good” and “bad” logic, you’re screwed. They will eat the wrong things and you pay the consequences. The folks at Kellogg’s deny it was ever their fault.

All I hear about in the media is the rise of autistic children in America. Does Kellogg’s care if they confuse an autistic kid into thinking that all Legos are fair game for munchies? Why aren’t the various organizations for autistic children protesting this devious product? They have an easy target to drag before Congress. Why isn’t Jenny McCarthy protesting Legos Fun Snacks before her kid gets a mouthful of the wrong blocks?

Where is the common sense from the heads of Kellogg’s when it comes to new products? Do James M. Jenness and A.D. David Mackay have souls? It’s obvious that this was a product developed by Satan. Dr. Benjamin S. Carson, the Director of Pediatric Neurosurgery for Kellogg’s, needs to have his medical license yanked for allowing this product to touch the lips of children. Civil War surgeons wouldn’t have staked their reputations on Lego Fun Snacks. Was Dr. Carson a student of Dr. Moreau?

What’s next for Kellogg’s? How about Drano juiceboxes? When will we get edible dry cleaner bags from Battle Creek? How about a snack bar that’s a working Zippo lighter? Let’s roll out a fruit roll that looks just like a highway dividing line so kids can run into traffic when they want a tasty treat. I fear that Jenness, Mackay and Carson will have their demonic research department developing my ideas. These people have no care for your children. They’re too concerned with cultivating a suicide garden that’s hydrated with corn syrup.

The nice part is how Kellogg’s website has a place to click for “Family Focus.” That focus must include bringing families together at the funerals of children that choked to death on Legos.

RETRO REJOICE

Remember my rant about TVLand transforming into a middle aged reality channel? Well there shall be no more sniping at TVLand. Why? Did they do something amazing? Did they find the errors in their way? Nope.

I found something better in the Retro TV Network. This syndicated network has scored deals with Paramount and Universal to create a programming delight for folks who can’t stand another “look at me” reality show. This is old TV for people who enjoy watching TV.

During the week they show Streets of San Francisco, Gomer Pyle, Cannon, Ironside, Rockford Files, The Fugitive, Quincy, Get Smart, Perry Mason, Mission Impossible, The Untouchables, Matlock, Hawaii Five-0, Magnum P.I. , Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and the greatest show known to Mankind: Love, American Style. On weekends they have Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew, Bonanza, Rawhide, Gunsmoke (including the black and white 30 minute early ones), Wild Wild West, Greatest American Hero, A-Team, Knight Rider, Airwolf, Buck Rogers, Alias Smith and Jones and It Takes a Thief.

Tubious, the TV god, has listened to my prayers. Although he skipped over Batman, The Six Million Dollar Man and Space Giants. Plus Brad Honecutt wants Mannix. But this is a great start.

A local station has decided to use RTN as the programming on their bonus digital channel. Hopefully a smart station manager in your town will give you the gift of Love, American Style. The only downside is that from 1 a.m. to 10 a.m., it’s a paid programming marathon, but this is a good excuse to get sleep. You’ll need plenty of energy to make it through the plot of Quincy.

On a different channel, American Life has Irwin Allen night on Thursdays. Get your fill of Lost In Space, Time Tunnel, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and Land of the Giants once a week.

MOVING PEOPLE?

The footage of the college student getting Tasered and the cellphone salesmen getting shot has shown a strange truth about America – we don’t give a crap. Did you notice how none of the other college students in the frame seemed outraged or fearful as their classmate was manhandled by campus security? As the guy is screaming from the 50,000 watts pumped through his body, there’s a row of kids who look utterly bored by the situation. After winning the football and basketball titles, it must take a lot to get the Gators to react. They weren’t even eyeballing as bystanders. They were zombies.

The same can be said about the youth sitting near a cellphone store. The salesman takes a gun shot in the chest from robbers. Do the kids duck for cover? Pull out a cellphone and call 911? Nope. They just barely look over to see the commotion. Heaven forbid any of these kids drop behind a car. Those kids look as bored as the college students.

Remember when America had a gag reflex towards violence? What happened to caring enough to protect our asses? Is Duck and Cover too much to remember for the Text-Message crowd? I don’t expect heroes in these situations, but please be repulsed and willing to save your ass from a dangerous moment.

RIGHT TITLE, WRONG FILM

Here’s a quick warning: Planet of Junior Brown on Showtime has nothing to do with the musician Junior Brown. Although that does sound like the perfect title for a documentary about the real Junior Brown.

DALLAS – My affair with Blockbuster is over. I was cheating on Netflix with Blockbuster Online Total Access. And thanks to Newsweek online, it’s out in the public. You want to call me a cad now or wait till our drinks arrive so you can be extra dramatic? Remember to remove the umbrella from the glass – that hurts.

Why did I do it? And why should you believe it’s over?

It started last November when Blockbuster put up their offer of Total Access. It was pure temptation to a film fiend like myself. I used every bit of energy to build up resistance. But how can you top paying $17.99 each month for a three out plan that also allowed me to return my mailers to the nearby Blockbuster store to exchange for titles on the shelf. This guaranteed me the chance to rent the hot new titles on the Tuesdays that came out. If Netflix has one major drawback, it’s the fact that if you don’t get picked for a new title on the Tuesday release, you’ll be stuck on “Very Long Wait” for nearly 2 months. I wanted new so I grabbed the deal.

Can you blame me?

There are people who hate Blockbuster because of an outrageous late fee in their past. This has never been my reason to hate on them. I didn’t rent at Blockbuster because they were expensive. Back in the video days, my rental love was spread at a Phar-Mor. They rented titles for about a half of Blockbuster. How could they charge less? A major hint can be found in the fact that their Founder and CFO were sent to prison on fraud charges. Should I feel criminal for taking advantage of their extra low prices? I didn’t like Blockbuster because it stopped stocking straight to video masterpieces featuring William Katt and Andrew Stevens.

When I went inside a Blockbuster, it was to hunt through the used VHS tables. They’d have two dollar sales at least every other month. It used to be cheaper to buy a used tape than rent the copy on the shelf. But now I was renting titles.

Actually I wasn’t renting since there was no charge for me to swap out that DVDs. That’s when I knew Total Access wasn’t going to go on forever at $17.99 a month. My nearby Blockbuster charged $4.25 per 2 day rental for new titles Plus it had the “No Late Fees” policy. This means I had an extra week grace period before the store would slap a $1.50 restocking fee on my credit card. On Tuesday morning, I’d show up with three envelopes and walk out with three hot new titles. I was never tempted to grab a 4th DVD. I was denying the cash register $13.75. Plus I wouldn’t bring those hot titles back for at least a week. They could have rented my copy of 300 three times instead of having it sit on my coffeetable.

I averaged six swap outs a week. I walked out the store with $100 plus of free rentals per month. Blockbuster online also mailed me 6 DVDs each week. They paid for the postage to me and the return to their distribution center. If this was just an online rental service like Netflix, I paid about 70 cents an online rental. Is that even coming close to covering their stamp cost? If I had shown up at the store with a “this is a stick up” note, they would have lost less money than my nine month reign of terror.

You want to know why Blockbuster is bleeding red ink? Me. They ought to have my picture on the cover of the quarterly report.

It wasn’t a complete shock when last month Blockbuster decided to retool their online rental program. I just figured they’d let it last until 2008. The new deal for $17.99 lets me rent 3 DVDs at a time. But they’d only allow me to swap 5 titles at the store for free. If I wanted to keep the Total Access (now called “Premium”), it was going to cost $24.99 a month. What’s $7 bucks especially after all the damage I do per month? Why quit?

This is a protest. If Blockbuster is going to yank me this time; they’ll yank again to calm down investors when the quarterly numbers bleed. While it’s fun to get the new titles with the swap out, the pickings get slim fast. Lately I’ve found myself grabbing crap off the shelves in order to make the trade. Would I have spent $4.25 to rent Astronaut Farmer, Pathfinder or Ghost Rider? Or would I have waited a few more months for them to appear on HBO? Instead of renting titles because I’m curious about them, I checked them out because they were there. The pile of DVDs seemed more of a endurance test than an entertaining evening. The only good part was that if a film stunk, I didn’t feel too bad stopping it after 20 minutes and tossing it back in the box. This was done to The Breed, Black Christmas and pretty much anything that was a Blockbuster exclusive. I didn’t really waste $4.25 on a clunker. It’s not like I could have rented porn at Blockbuster.

The online version of Blockbuster did offer quite a few titles that Netflix refused to stop. The biggest thing BBO offered was Disney’s True Life Adventures series. Why couldn’t the lemmings arrive in the red envelope? Contrary to what Netflix wants you to think, they don’t buy every new title to put in circulation. And they are quick to pull titles that have gone out of print. Or is it a case that Netflix users have “lost” them in the mail? It was nice to be able to use both resources while working my way through the Psychotronic Encyclopedia of Film.

There are also a couple minor yet annoying reasons to quit. My nearby Blockbuster store shut down a few months back. It’s twice the drive to get to the new store. I’m trying to save gas so this war can end. Plus Blockbuster will only ship DVDs that are within 2 or 3 mailing days. This means that even though the website tells you a title is available, it might not be available to you. It got annoying waiting for rare titles to snail their way cross country through the distribution centers. Netflix ships me a title from Hawaii if its in their system. Plus every other week, a Blockbuster title would get lost in the mail. I’ve yet to have a Netflix title go MIA – not even Missing In Action with Chuck Norris. Rarely would a Blockbuster title arrive in the mail the day after shipping. This wasn’t bothersome when I had DVDs checked out of the store unless those DVDs were lame fare like Prey.

Now I’m just a Netflix customer. I won’t be getting all the new DVDs on Tuesday. The mailman will only have half the load to shove in my box each week. I should feel dirty for having made a deal with Blockbuster, but after they do the math, I’m the best worst customer they’ll ever have. As I told Newsweek‘s Brian Braiker, “when word gets out that I’m no longer with Blockbuster, their stock will soar $4 a share.”

BLOCKBASTARDS

After I decided not to do anything about reupping and just let my deal with Blockbuster lapse, those weasels decided to not wait until Sept 4 to end my account. When they didn’t ship me anything the other day, I wrote them asking if they were going to send me my next titles. This was the response:

Hello Joseph,

Thank you for contacting Blockbuster Online Customer Care.

I’m sorry to hear we haven’t shipped the DVDs you’ve requested. In looking at your account, it has automatically been cancelled as of 08/25/2007. Please reactivate your account by choosing new plans. You can find the details of other plans that are available via “My Account” in the “Subscription Plan” area.

Joseph, I hope this information has been helpful. Have a nice day.

Always here to help,

Ryan
Customer Care Associate
BLOCKBUSTER Online

They bill me for 30 days of rental action and are denying me 10 days of service. Sounds like it’s time to sue their asses. Anyone else get ripped off for a month? I have a really great class action lawyer. You think I’m joking, Blockbuster? Google “Joseph Corey” + “Class Action.”

CRYING AT COMEDY

Using one of my freebie swaps, I picked up The Ex since it’s a Blockbuster exclusive. This should have been funny. You have the three leads from excellent sitcoms teaming up on the silver screen. How can you go wrong with Zach Braff (Scrubs), Jason Bateman (Arrested Development and Donal Logue (Grounded For Life)? Guess it starts at the script and it’s downhill from there. This is a script that wouldn’t have escaped the writer’s room at any of these shows. It might have stood a chance at Charles in Charge. What was the point of casting Mia Farrow for a job that could have filled by a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth?

When Superbad came out, the hype kept saying it was the best comedy since Borat. Has there been any other funny comedies since Borat? Sure there was Idiocracy, but for a majority of Americans, they discovered it on DVD. What is wrong with cinematic comedies? There seem to be plenty of decent sitcoms in the past 10 years. But comedies? Is there a problem that after 25 pages, a comedy becomes a painful exercise that devolves into painful Kate Hudson vehicles? Or they just become Dipshit Comedies starring Will Ferrell. Way too many movies are prolonged Saturday Night Live sketches that are only funny in the sense of discovering your anal warts are actually parasite infections.

THE MAGIC IS BACK

How does one full appreciate R Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet: Chapters 13 – 22 with the knowledge that the auteur is still awaiting trial for peeing on underaged girls? The answer for me is Jack on the rocks. The new 10 chapters of this epic do not disappoint. I still haven’t a clue what R. Kelly is doing. But damned if it’s seriously messed up. His hot new character is a pimp at a church service. Plus we’re given a mobster shoot out that blasts away the finale of The Sopranos.

The shame is the lack of action for Michael K. Williams’ cop character. Give him screen time, R Kelly. The bad part of this new DVD is that we don’t get R. Kelly’s commentary track. I want to hear his genius at work. Watching R. Kelly watch and “explain” Chapters 1 – 12 took this project to the next level.

A REAL COMMENTARY TRACK

The Film Crew DVDs have been a fun way of keeping the joy of Mystery Science Theater 3000 alive. The deal of this show is that Mike Nelson, Kevin Murphy and Bill Corbett are hired to create commentary tracks for films that don’t have them. Their movie jokes are done only on the audio track. I miss their shadows on the screen. I do wish they’d retool the show so that at least one of the guy fakes being connected to the film. They could impersonate an actor who claims they were in the part of the screen eliminated by the pan and scan. Or they can play the Production Assistant who has worked 50 years in the industry. This way they can tell horrible stories of being on location. Give us fake insider tales of Hollywood, Mike Nelson!

Or they can bring in Rock and Roll legend Patti Smith. Her work on Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theater For DVD deserves an award. She’s an amazing conversationalist with the various folks in the recording booth. And a fan of the show. Since R. Kelly didn’t create a commentary for Trapped in the Closet 13 – 22), Patti Smith can put on her resume “Best DVD Commentary Personality of 2007” under the honors section.

SCARY SEPTEMBER

The Midnite Movies Double Features return on Sept. 11! After a few years off, we’ll be treated to Return of Dracula/The Vampire, Phantom from 10,000 Leagues/The Beast with a Million Eyes, & Konga/Yongary, Monster from the Deep. Also Best Buy will be featuring Vol. 2 of Universal’s The Classic Sci-Fi Ultimate Collection. The five black and white features are Dr. Cyclops, Cult of the Cobra, The Land of Unknown, The Deadly Mantis & The Leech Woman. Now I await news to the day BJs stocks the Monsters Cereal multibox. Then it’s truly my favorite time of the year. Spooky time!

TVLAND HATES VINTAGE TV

An email showed up from TVLand looking for reality show contestants. Unlike their recent reality shows that featured acting icons from their older programs, TVLand’s new slate of shows have zero to do with classic television. They want women over 35 ready to be models. They want people who crave their outrageous 40th birthday parties broadcasted. They want couple between 45-55 that are dumping their old jobs to pursue a life long dream. What the hell does this do with me wanting to watch I Love Lucy? The dorks at TVLand want to turn the channel into MTV for Middle aged people.

The channel is now showing Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. While I enjoy the show and have worked on it in the past, it’s not a Classic TV show. It’s still on ABC primetime. And the same goes to them running movies that have nothing to do with TV like The Negotiator.

Do I have to sue your asses, TVLand? Your channel promises me a nice mix of vintage TV shows. Can you not do your job? I don’t pay for your channel in order to watch new shows. Stop trying to bait and switch. You are a niche channel and you need to remain true to your promise to me.

You want to do original programming that ties into your mission? How about a show that interviews the character actors that popped up in dozens of great shows. How about a little tribute to James Wong? Do we really need a show about a middle aged couple opening up a Bed and Breakfast in the wine country? Would that be Dean and Tori Get Old?

Thank goodness Paramount Home Video is putting out the first batch of Love, American Style episodes on DVD this November. They also have more Perry Mason, Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, Mork and Mindy and Mission: Impossible. There’s going to be plenty of TV goodness on the shelf for the Christmas shopping season.

DIRTY POLITICS

Why do high profile Republicans have no sense of hygiene?

First off there’s that video footage of Mitt Romney at a pork cookout in Iowa. When he lifted the hunks of pork from the grill into a bag, one of the pieces fell off his spatula and onto the ground. Mitt picked the pork off the ground and put it back on the grill. “Five second rule!” he exclaimed. Is he psychotic? Will someone explain to Mitt the “five second rule” when it comes to large hunks of meat doesn’t mean you can just pick it off the ground and toss it back on the grill. You have pick the meat off the ground and wash the dirt away. You can’t serve people dirty meat. I bet if Mitt discovered his personal chef was serving him “five second rule” prime ribs, he’d be pissed off. But a voter in Iowa should be satisfied with his dirty slice of pork?

Should I really expect more from Mitt? Not really. This is a man who had a dog with the shits strapped to the family station wagon so that feces could drip off the back window and splatter onto motorcyclists. The Center for Disease Control needs to swab down Typhoid Mitt’s private plane to make sure he isn’t the reason the bees are disappearing.

The second big GOP Germy is Sen. Larry Craig. There’s no need to debate if he was really looking for a blow job in the Minneapolis airport bathroom. But there’s one thing that can’t be denied is his alibi that he reached into the adjoining stall to pick a piece of toilet paper off the tile. What? Who the hell picks anything off a men’s room floor? Do you know what is in that toilet paper? There is no five second rule when it comes to Public men’s restrooms. And there’s one major rule in the world of men’s restrooms, you never put your hand in another man’s stall. If your wedding ring falls off and rolls into another stall, you buy another one. He might as well have claimed he was tonguing the toilet seat to sanitize it for his ass.

At the next GOP convention, instead of having another “how great we are” speech, they must hire a nurse to explain proper hygiene techniques. Don’t let Mitt Romney kiss your baby. Who knows what he’ll allow his unwashed lips to touch for five seconds.

SUMMER’S GONE

What’s irritating about the year round school craze overtaking America is that right after a store removes the 4th of July fireworks display, they’re already slapping up the Back to School sales crap. We don’t get to enjoy summer since we have to worry about passing stopped yellow buses. Remember when summer lasted until Jerry Lewis sang, “You’ll Never Walk Alone?”

KILLING US SOFT SHOELY

After Mark Cuban goes off about how the internet is dead and boring, he signs up for Dancing with the Stars. Way to save civilization, Cuban. Guess he’s too much of sissy to be on my new show So You Think You Can Drink Nitro Glycerin and Do The Twist. It’s a tribute to Big Jim and Billy Sol on SCTV. Here’s a warning to Mark Cuban. According to my Magic 8 Ball, Marie Osmond will lead to the end of Cuban’s marriage!

THE DEATH OF COCK ROCK

Normally this would be the space to grouse about the music industry. But I’m feeling generous thanks to the latest albums by Amy Winehouse, Lily Allen and Feist. I’m not coming up with a fancy name to lump this trio into a genre. But it is quite obvious what’s lacking these days – bands with dicks. What happened to the cock rock? Why haven’t I heard a song and said, “Damn it! Those guys know what they’re doing!” Why does my lighter remain in my pocket instead of being waved over my head?

What happened to cock rock? I don’t want to think I’m turning into a pussy, but there’s very little alternative. Here we are in the midst of six years of war and the best we’re fed is Fall Out Boy and Nickleback. Why isn’t there a band filled with bile, blood dripping down their chin and with a riff that can’t be denied?

Where’s the next Black Sabbath with Paranoid 2? I’d settle for the second coming of Styx (or is already here as Maroon 5 and The Killers?). Is there any reason for Velvet Revolver to be considered a super group with their mediocre tunes? Velveeta Revolver is more like it.

Maybe the Hives will put balls back on the radio. But do they really have a new record or just pimpin’ Nike-iPod sneakers?

HAPPY TWENTY?

This is not a blog. It’s a column! This column has been around longer than the word blog has been in existence. This is the 20th anniversary of The Party Favors. At least we think it is. We were drunk in the mid-80s so that whole period of time is a blur. We were all doing lines of coke off Drew Barrymore’s ass between cameos on Miami Vice. Elvis the alligator was a mean drunk, but a lovable lush. Five a.m. would arrive when Epi would slide a live Nina Simone album onto the turntable. “Either get busy or fall asleep,” she’d insist. “The sun doesn’t take prisoners or excuses.” I miss Epi. I’d miss her more if I could only remember her last name. Or if Epi was her name or nickname. But since I stole her Nina Simone album, she’s always close to my heart and ears.

BACK TO SCHOOL

Did you know that Party Favors is taught in several leading universities? This column is used as a final exam in copyediting classes. And congratulations to Hank Ashbaum for winning last month’s “Spot the Typos” contest.

The nice thing about going to school in the 21st century is that you no longer have to worry about stashing your porn collection in the cramped dorm room. Or being soiled by your roommate. It’s all on the computer. That would have freed up at least five cubic feet in my old Turlington dorm room. Once a college official sent me a nasty letter pointing out that dorms should only be called residence halls. Dorms are what they call them in prisons, I was told. Oddly enough, a prison guard told me they don’t call them dorms, but residence halls. Nobody wins.

SANTA FE, NM – Remember those pictures of small kids fresh from working 14 hours deep inside a coal mine that popped up on TV news specials? The network newscaster would give a little talk about the evils of forcing kids to work inhumane conditions for prolonged hours for little pay. CBS has pretty much threw that attitude away with Kid Nation.

The network that once brought us Harvest of Shame decided to stick 40 kids in the New Mexico desert for the sake of mining ratings gold. They worked 8 year old children for at least 14 hours in the brutal elements so they can have a weekly harvest of 40 minutes of prime time nuggets. These kids were removed from school and their parents for nearly two months.

The nice part is that CBS got around all the child labor laws by claiming these kids were going to camp instead of working on a TV show. A camp? Really? When I went to summer camp, I created potholders for my parents. I didn’t create hours of prime time entertainment for America. When I went to camp, I spent quite a bit of time sitting near the campfire just being quiet. These kids were expected to create a multi-million dollar franchise for CBS tyrant Les Moonves. Think they were allowed to merely sit around and read a book? That doesn’t make exciting television. Does it now, Les? Those kids weren’t allowed to do what kids might really want do at camp. Instead you had a mandate of what you needed them to do so the show didn’t flounder. Kids Nation is a 21st century video-taped child labor camp. And you, Les, are Strother Martin in Cool Hand Luke. Did you visit the “camp” wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses? Was one of the money contests for the kids eating 50 eggs? You had 40 inmates on that work farm. Instead of shotguns, your Boss Paul kept a camera on their every move.

The funny part is hearing that if the kids didn’t like it, they could leave. They weren’t being held against their will. Really? Isn’t that what all sweatshop owners say when they get busted on 60 Minutes? What would Les do if the 40 kids decided this show was stupid and they wanted to go home? These kids came to play a game. They know what happens to quitters on reality shows. They get blackballed from any further network shows. And they get mocked on the school bus. What 8 year old wants to live with the stigma of being a network quitter? They want Survivor fame. And the fat dollars for winning.

Les Moonves raped the corpse of Jackie Coogan. Every TV production rule that deals with using children in a TV production was set on fire by Moonves. He claims these kids were not employed by CBS. They were merely contestants on a game show. Here’s a new rule that networks need to observe… if a person can’t go home at the end of a production shoot, they aren’t contestants – they’re employees of a show. The people who appear on The Price Is Right are contestants. At the end of a show, they go home. They aren’t locked inside the Bob Barker soundstage until the next game begins. They don’t have cameras in their faces 24 hours a day. Even though it was the middle of the school year when this was shot, CBS didn’t have to provide on location tutors for the kids. That would interfere with the illusion that these kids were left alone in the wilderness to build their own society. Did all these kids flunk their grade level? I don’t know too many school systems that let you skip two months for the sake of making a TV show. Or did Les Moonves hire Juan Epstein’s mother to write them all notes?

Reports are now out that several children drank bleach during the shoot. The network still claims that the show was supervised. Who allowed the second kid to drink bleach? And the ones after that kid? There’s a major difference between an adult supervised camp and a reality show location. You want these kids to drink bleach at the reality camp cause it makes an amazing video. You get drama, confusion and rescue. It’s like an episode of E.R.: On the Range. Maybe these kids were supervised by the same professionals credited on Jackass?

Even from a scientific standpoint, can we enjoy this show? These were kids taken from their families with the lure of fame and prize money. Notice that nobody from CBS is defending this project to the press. Is an academic in charge of this social experiment? There’s no Margret Meade working at the Tiffany Network. Instead we’re stuck with weaselly producers who have the same moral code as sub prime mortgage dealers. Kid Nation dips into the ethics of concentration camp science. Can we truly use the research of Nazi scientists from torturing others for their pleasure as true research? Can we take anything away from Kid Nation with the knowledge that 8 year olds were exploited for the end product? Remember when CBS went after Kathie Lee Gifford for the kids that worked on her clothing line? CBS doesn’t mind tossing children into a sweatshop of reality programming.

Reading the contract these kids signed to appear on the show reveals the inhumane mindset of Moonves and his ilk. Like a concentration camp, a child could be murdered by the show’s producer and the parents couldn’t sue since that right was waived when they agreed to let the kid appear on camera. A kid could be raped by an HIV infected CBS employee and the parents would have no recourse against the network hiring sexual predators thanks to this contract. And if these kids dare talk about the truth of this reality show, CBS could sue the family for $5 million. If Hitler had put film cameras into his camps, he could have described them as extreme reality competitions. And those survivors who dared to tell the truth to the Allies would have their asses sued. The Nazis could have claimed they weren’t committing genocide, they were merely having a competition to see who would be the last person standing in their concentration camp reality show.

Why not that be CBS’s next reality show, Les Moonves? Recreate a Nazi work camp and randomly pick the guards and prisoners from your applicants. Your network did get boffo ratings for Hogan’s Heroes. Let’s take the next step. Since you obviously have no gag reflex, why not see what happens after six months of one group of people being called the “Master Race” while they imprison the sub humans? Why not recreate the “Stanford Prison Experiment” with celebrities? Maybe next year you can just stick a bunch of 8 year olds “contestants” in a coal mine and let us know that Edward R. Murrow was a sissy.

MANTEO, NC – The hunt for Andy Griffith is on. Sniff the air. There’s a touch of Mayberry amongst the salt.

We’ve arrived on this small island next to the Outerbanks to see the man who changed the world. We’re not stalking him. It would be so easy to camp out in front of his gated driveway. But that’s just wrong and would make us look like tourists. Instead, we crouch near the Ritz cracker aisle in the Piggly Wiggly. You know Andy loves his Ritz. There’s no way he can avoid us. Softly I whistle the theme to Matlock. He’ll be here soon.

After a week of opening to closing shopping, a store employee tells me that Andy hasn’t been around in a while. He’s in Waitress and is getting back into the acting game. We buy a box of Ritz Crackers and leave it by his mailbox as an offering to the icon. He’ll be hungry when he returns from Hollywood.

BUTCHIE, COME HOME!

How could they cancel John From Cincinnati? It was on the verge of making sense. During our time on the sand, my posse kept quoting John while on the waves. “I’ve got my eye on you!” “I don’t know, Butchie.” “Get back in the game, Mitch Yost.” “Did you dump out this morning?” Who knew this show was so damn catchy? And now after 10 episodes, it’s gone. But for those of us who wondered what would happen if Dylan took on Zack with Charlie Moore as the ref, we almost had it.

I’m still not sure if I liked John, but I’ll miss trying to figure out if I like it.

Well at least there’s a new season of Weeds on Showtime. And let’s not forget Californication. I think the show has a story about David Duchovny as writer. There was just so much boob action on the screen. There were more exposed breasts in that 30 minutes than the last 2 seasons of The L Word. Duchovny has returned to his Red Shoe Diaries roots.

CHECK OUT TIME

The nice part about the beach was a chance to check out Bravo. Amazing how in one weekend, you can see the last 2 months of original programming on the channel. Except when they run marathons of Major League. There new two hyped reality shows seem way too staged for their own good.

Welcome to the Parker is about a swanky and funky hotel in Palm Springs. The place used to be Gene Autry’s house and an original Holiday Inn. The first few episodes are a bit too unrealistic. They producers seem to be creating a cheaper version of Hotel without having to book character actors.

They line up four different plots that pay off at the end of the hour. It’s too cute. There was one episode dealing with a mysterious guy who keeps ordering loads of ice from room service. The guy hides under blankets as the room service guy fills the tub with ice. This goes on periodically through the show. It ends with the guy giving a $100 tip, but he never really appears on camera. It seems like they reenacted a story the room service guy told the producers. It’s easy to figure out that the guest had plastic surgery and was using the ice to recover.

Another thing had the manager of the hotel having a ping pong game with the hotel’s designer over letting dogs stay in the rooms. What are the odds that would have happened without the cameras?

Flipping Out follows a psychotic guy who flips houses. I swear this guy was the basis of the neighbor in Disturbia. He’s OCD and all about his pets. He also has a lot of spiritual weirdness going on. He has mystics purify his homes. The dramatics in his crew seem normal since he only hires drama queens. He has an assistant and then has two assistants who do the stuff the assistant refuses to do like clean turds from the litter box. I’d be more excited if he had to get Tanya Memme to help him sell a house.

Bravo seems to promise so much, but the channel just clunks on way too many days. On a Friday all they have scheduled is The Exorcist, Exorcist II, some promotional thing about Flash Gordon, Basic Instinct, Carlito’s Way and The Untouchables. That’s not a TV channel. That’s leftovers in Tupperware. I don’t need AMC Jr on my digital box. I’m not calling my cable company until Bravo brings it every day.

BRAIN DEAD

Andrew Keen, the author of The Cult of the Amateur: How today’s Internet is killing our culture really needs to write a follow up book called The Lengths of Poles that Fit Nicely Up My Ass. What makes him so great? Because he was able to able to sucker a publisher into buying his rant? Does anyone really want to read 228 pages? That’s a lot of time that could be spent downloading fresh internet porn from the amateur naked model at ellinude.com. She’s hotter than those whore painted, knife and silicone creations at Vivid Video. Can you really masturbate to the latest version of Jenna Jameson? She looks like what Joan Rivers imagines herself as.

Keen is completely off base when he says that you’re better off getting advice about music from record store clerks instead of your online musical pals. Is he serious? After the death of John Swain, the owner of the Record Hole; I have yet to encounter a single record store clerk that has any taste. Most modern record store clerks don’t seem to give a crap about talking to customers. They sit behind the counter, eating pizza and playing music to scare the squares out of the store. These guys have taken customer service lessons from Jack Black. Ask them a question? Why bother? You think the girl behind the counter has a clue about Herman’s Hermits? She’s there because the manager wants to scrogg her. Way to pick experts, Keen-o.

This guy doesn’t seem to know that things sucked before the internet took over. The internet didn’t bring us Hootie and the Blowfish or Yakov Smirnov. I bet if we investigate history, we’ll find a handwritten essay from a monk declaring that Gutenberg’s printing press will ruin society.

Andrew Keen is a professional – a professional killjoy. This man comes from the same country that gave us Simon Cowell. Haven’t we had enough of the English? Isn’t time we renew our 1776 action and dump them into Boston Harbor one more time? Remember that it was a bunch of amateurs who took up arms and defeated the mighty professional British army. We don’t need to listen to these people. If they knew that much, we’d still be eating crumpets and think that toothpaste is overrated. Do you want to live in a society that worships Camilla Parker Bowles as their next semi-Queen? His culture has given us Peter and Jordan. I still haven’t a clue why this duo has a reality show. Benny Hill died for England’s sins. How dare Andrew Keen do a superiority dance around us.

Maybe Keen will want to read my book The Cult of the English: How Today’s Brits are Sucking the Fun Out of Our Culture. This is not to be confused with my upcoming tome The Lethal Price of Nostalgia: How Today’s Living in the Past Has Destroyed Dreams of Tomorrow. Colbert, schedule me now before I actually start writing it.

GLICK NICK….

Why has Fox hitched its Business Channel’s fate on Alexis Glick? For the past year she’s been hailed as their stealth weapon whenever there’s been news about the launch. The former CNBC gal is supposed to destroy her old bosses. She’s the Eric Lindros of Wall Street reporters according to the hype.

When she substituted for Neil Cavuto on FoxNews, Glick sucked the life out of the show. She is not Fox News Material. She not nearly as striking as most of the Foxy News Women. She doesn’t sizzle. If Fox is the Red Bull of newscasters, she’s a really weak lemon-flavored water. She’s easy on the eye, but doesn’t draw you in. She does not command attention when she speaks. There’s no character to her voice. Listen to the other Foxy Newscasters. She doesn’t rank. According to unnamed sources, her voice isn’t easily heard by old people (a major viewing block for Fox). She’s doesn’t measure up against Rebecca Gomez and Jane Skinner.

During her time on Cavuto’s show, she nearly disappeared during the panel discussions. Guests talked with barely an interruption from the host. That’s a Fox no-no. And Glick committed a Cardinal sin when she allowed a guest to promote Bank of America stock as a hot buy. Doesn’t she understand that Cavuto has spent six months pumping up the torch and pitchfox crowd to lynch Bank of America? It’s not like last year when he called off his attacks on AARP after they started advertising on his show. It’d be like her going on John Gibson’s Big Picture and allowing guests to promote eliminating Christmas as a school vacation day without mocking them. Read the memos, Glick. Get with the Fox Program!

What’s really uncomfortable is when she botched a guest’s last name. She channeled Mary Tyler Moore’s breakdown voice when she begged forgiveness. Who wants a fear of that happening during a breaking quarterly report. She might as well do a Lucy “waahhhh” to make us cringe even more.

It’s easy to see that Fox is going to have a Katie Couric situation when the new business channel hits the satellites. She’s not an on-camera all star. Glick is the perfect fill in hostess on The Today Show since she isn’t threatening to a regular host’s job.

And is it creepy that Cavuto seems to promote Glick like his Captain of Industry buddies pimp their trophy wives? Gentlemen, wag your tongues!

NEWSIE TO WATCH

Michelle Kosinski on MSNBC is a reporter to watch in the field. Even though her breaking news interrupted my regular programming, I was impressed instead of cranky. She better be fast tracked on the food chain.

MESSAGE TO JOHN GIBSON

How dare John Gibson mock Jon Stewart’s emotions after 9/11. It’s disgusting to see the host of Fox’s Big Story be such a dick. But he does work for an organization that attempted to trademark “9/11.” If he was eaten by a shark, I’d feel bad that the shark had ingested a cancer causing agent.

We don’t mock Gibson’s defense of Christmas even though there are plenty of whispers on the internet that he belongs to a major Satanic cult.

During the same show, John Gibson claimed that America needs another 9/11 to set things right. Why does John Gibson want another 3,000 Americans to die? So he can have a hot topic on his TV? Gibson needs to volunteer himself and his family to be among the victims of his desired catastrophe. Maybe they should just take his family on a bicycle tour of Iraq.

HOT NEW SURGERY

According to my sources at a major Beverly Hills plastic surgeon’s office, this fall’s hot new procedure is a “Taint Lift.” About 30 patients a week are requesting them. “The ladies want to feel a tightness between the holes,” my unnamed source confided.

SCALP ME

According to Stubhub, the hottest college football ticket this year is DeVry vs. University of Phoenix.

PROJEKT REVOLTION

They call this music?

I made a deal with the devil by agreeing to do sound for a Myspace/Live Nation “live” broadcast of Linkin Park’s Projekt Revolution tour. Why did I think working for Fox and Clear Channel’s bitch project would be a good thing? First off, this deal was screwed. I only got the job because the Myspace weasels didn’t want to pay for a real sound guy. They merely wanted a PA who would hold the boom microphone and maybe twist a knob. They wanted PAs for the shoot, but they didn’t want to pay them. While I am the Creepy PA, I’m also a PA that likes to earn a few bucks for working a gig.

I’ll do a charity show if asked. But Fox’s News Corp and Clear Channel are not poverty cases. Although both of those companies have done their best to impoverish our culture.

My job during the shoot was to follow Myspace Superstar Metal Sanaz as she mingled with concert goers. She has over half a million friends on Myspace. I currently have 50. But my friends include the gals from HBO’s Cathouse, Bob Saget, George Takei and the ghost of Charles Nelson Reilly. Plus there’s that Tom guy. I’ve got quality friends.

Sanaz has hung out with Tom. This means Tom isn’t that good of a friend to me. I’m hurt that Tom doesn’t give a crap about me as a friend. He’s the one who put himself on my page as a friend. Lying bastard.

How did Sanaz have half a million friends? She has a street team. A street team? I don’t have a street team. And I’m thinking this is a good thing since I’d hate for them to decide to work I-95. Nothing would be worse than my team of streeters getting run over by the Bimbo Bakery truck. Who needs a street team for the information super highway? I’d fear seeing my cyber-street team chief appearing on TV. “Talk? What can you possibly talk about with a 14 year old girl at this hour?” Hansen would ask. “This week’s amazing Party Favors column, Chris!”

For those curious, Sanaz was full of energy as she did comic bits around the concert area that were supposed to be inserted into the “live” broadcast. She wore a very nice corset that got a lot of folks asking to hug her. And she didn’t mind hugging – especially the dozens of fans that were her Myspace friends. The corset proved to be a problem since it was over 100 degrees in the parking lot that had been set up with the second stage. Every so often she’d get soaked in the shower tent. We also took plenty of breaks. Luckily one of those breaks was during Placebo’s set.

This was the only band on the bill that I wanted to see. I’m not a big fan, but they were in Velvet Goldmine. The plus side of this gig was my “working” band pass. Those puppies are gold at a venue. Instead of just standing in the back of the venue, I marched into the pit. All the Live Nation ticket nazi flunkees had to step aside when I pointed at the magic pass. It was like giving them the middle finger as I stormed their checkpoints.

But there would be no finger for Placebo. They gave a great 35 minute set. Shame it was in broad daylight. They need a bit of darkness around them. Contrary to your mother’s fears, the pit itself was extra calm. You’ll be bashed around more in a ecstasy people puddle. The kids around me didn’t quite know what to make of the band. Too many of them were there for Linkin Park and My Chemical Romance. One moppet wore a “My Chemical Romance saved my life” t-shirt. Really? I don’t think a band has ever saved my life. There was the time Dana Kletter of the blackgirls made sure a roadie from Hole didn’t kick my ass during an afterparty.

Placebo seemed to be the only band that day that didn’t just suck. The second stage bands were just noise. Being the king of the noise guitar from my feedback antics in the BeatlesS, I feel bad debasing this new music. But not once did I say, “I need to get this record.” I didn’t even think about illegally downloading their songs. They were just horrible. The final band on the stage was Mindless Self Indulgence. They reminded me way too much of Oingo Boingo if Danny Elfman didn’t try to be too smart for the room. The lead singer reminded me of a character from Zippy the Pinhead. The constant barrage of bad noise wore on me as I kept trying to work sound on Sanaz. It felt like a nightmare as I kept adjusting knobs while keeping my boom out of the shot.

At the end of the day, it turned out that standing in the humid heat listening to all that crappy racket was a complete waste of time.

While things sounded OK while recording them in the field, when they downloaded the video onto the computer, the audio tracks were muck. Turns out that when you are near a speaker pile that’s blasting out crap, you can’t really mix it out. It also doesn’t help that instead of ordering a shotgun microphone which allows isolation to the person speaking near the boom, they had merely ordered a cardioid mic. This means that no matter where I placed my boom, I was screwed. The sound stage would leak onto the track. The director was furious that somehow this elevated space monkey didn’t twist enough knobs to get pure monkey chow. It also didn’t help that people kept screaming near the microphone. I had the level set for Sanaz’s speaking voice, but the roar blew out the levels. It is hard to hold a boom with two hands and mix sound with my third hand. Live sound under such conditions is a two person job and one of them really does need to be a fully paid sound guy with experience mixing at concerts.

The disgusted director gave me the look as if I was somehow supposed to cringe and beg for mercy. He acted as if I somehow give a crap about my career as a sound guy. My only thought as I looked into his fuming eyes was, “You went cheap and you paid for it.” He didn’t want a real sound guy. They were paying me about a third what a real sound guy cost for a day’s rental. And they got a third of the quality.

Unlike my normal response which is to immediately shout back “Listen, you cheap ass bastard – you didn’t ask for a real sound guy. Go F’ yourself, lil Michael Bay!” But I was nice and just handed my sound equipment over to another PA. It’s not like this dork would understand that he set himself up to fail. If sound mattered that much, they would have put it in the budget instead of thinking they could work around it.

If we were recording on a silent soundstage, I probably would feel like shit for what ended up as audiotracks. But what the hell do you do when you’re stuck on a concert field with a boom microphone. And a body microphone would have been a waste since half the time Sanaz was going into the shower tent to cool off.

After 12 hours in the hell hole called Projekt Revolution, I went home. The director will probably declare that I left in shame, but I split from a sham.

I hope production sound engineers understand what I did for them that day. You know what the Revolution of that Projekt was? Reminding a cheapskate producer/director that if you want a real sound guy, you better be willing to pay for a sound guy and not think you can fake it. Cheapass Tom, you are no longer my real friend at Myspace.

DO THE STRAND

Upon returning home, Netflix has delivered Roxy Music Live at the Apollo from their 2003 tour. Musically, this was a hot bath and a full body massage to my ears. Smooth and soulful music came from the speakers. Bryan Ferry didn’t go on about mothers and fathers fucking to the audience. The man has class. And if you’re listening to a Roxy Music record, odds are good that you’ll be getting laid.

Why aren’t Roxy Music in the Rock Hall of fame? Why aren’t we in a world where we can be sick of hearing Roxy Music?

NO JACK FOR EDDIE

The big talk from the venue employees was the upcoming Van Halen reunion tour.

Do not call it a Van Halen reunion. What’s going on tour this summer is a reunion of Eddie, Alex and David Lee Roth. But how dare they consider it a Van Halen reunion by replacing Michael Anthony with Eddie’s teenage son. Contrary to Eddie’s ego, Michael Anthony was the heartbeat of the band.

Back when Van Halen mattered, we would make fun of Michael Anthony. He was the odd man out on the stage. He kept his shirt on during the videos. He was husky with a beard. He wore the jumpsuits that made it look like he was an elevated roadie. We figured his way of picking up groupies was by saying, “You know, I’m in the band, too. Did you see me on stage? No. I wasn’t the guy who said, ‘Check one. Check one.’” He was the Rodney Dangerfield of hard rock.

Part of this blame was that Michael Anthony came along during a time when bass worship went to Geddy Lee of Rush, John Entwistle of The Who, Chris Squire of Yes and Phil Lynott of Thin Lizzy. Being kept on the fringe of the stage by his three bandmates, Michael Anthony looked like the lesser talent . We thought he was replaceable like a drummer in Spinal Tap. We were so wrong about him.

Over the years, Michael Anthony’s stock has grown. The man did serious work on those records. Like Entwistle, his bass was the rhythm guitar that allowed Eddie to go nuts. His background vocals made sure Diamond Dave didn’t sound like a complete screech. Plus we discovered he was the only person on that stage that wasn’t a complete prick. He was the guy who would have pounded down shots of Jack with us after the show. And he wouldn’t turn into a mean and bitter drunk. And as the sun rose and we crawled to a cab, we would have said, “We just partied with Michael Anthony” without it sounding like a consolation prize.

And so at this time, Party Favors would like to apologize to Michael Anthony for thinking he was the weakest link in Van Halen. We now know that there’s no such thing as a true Van Halen reunion without him and his Jack Daniels bass. Even though the band is playing a few dates in the area, we’re not going. We’re not tempted. David Lee Roth’s painful vocals from his tour with Sammy remind us that he just doesn’t have it anymore. Diamond Dave makes Tom Waits sound like an opera star. And who knows what Eddie will do without a buffer of booze and pills to insulate himself from Dave. We’re not paying $100 to see a trainwreck. Amtrak provides those for free.

Michael Anthony, if you knock on my door, I’ll break out a bottle of Jack. Cause you’re worth it.

SACK LUNCH

While watching No Reservations, Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmer went to a place in Queens that served all the nasty bits of animals. They seemed delighted in their meal. How come you never hear a host of a freak eating show say, “These are great Mountain Oysters. Shame my wife isn’t here so she can tell me if they taste as good as my balls.”

Would that get you kicked off the Food Channel?

FINK NEWS

Why all the reporting of news organizations reaction to various political news? Do I care that the Seattle Times cheered Karl Rove splitting the White House? Then Joe Scarborough outs his own MSNBC colleges for supposedly booing during the president’s State of the Union address He said, “there were actually people in the newsroom that were booing the president actually from the beginning to the end.” Really? I doubt people at Yankee stadium can boo that hard for that long. Did they rotate they booing, Joe? We’re they foghorn booing? Was there a raspberry? Did anyone throw a beer at the screen? Did Joe stand at attention the entire time with his hand over his heart?

I heard a high placed reporter at the Party Favors farted when it was announced that the deputy undersecretary for the creation of committees that need secretaries had formed a subcommittee into creating a new brainstorming session title. Disgusting!

Just remember all you folks at MSNBC that Joe Scarborough is a fink and will rat you out to get an inch of ink. And isn’t it bad taste for a newspaper reporter to applaud a guy who is entering unemployment? What are the odds that the Times staff won’t get slashed in the near future and be in the cheese line behind Karl?

BALTIMORE –– Is it really the 10th anniversary of the revolution? What revolution, you may ponder. On July 12, 1997, HBO unleashed Oz. This series flipped dramatic TV shows over and sodomized the staid concepts. It went everywhere a network show didn’t dare to roam in language, violence and man love.

It was a unflinching look at life inside the Oswald Maximum Security Correctional Facility. What set it apart from any other TV drama wasn’t merely that it had throat slashing, butt sex and cussing, but that it allowed the bad guys to be the major characters. Even the supposed good guys were shown running their own rackets behind the prison walls. Nobody was all good. Although quite a few characters were all bad. While TV dramas before Oz might have had recurring evil characters, they were either seen as comic relief or constantly being taught that their bad ways would never defeat the series hero. Oz put an end to that tradition. If anything separates HBO from network dramas, it’s the greatness of their villains.

The only series that didn’t have an amazing bad guy was Six Feet Under. Although Nate Fisher (Peter Krause) became such an asshole in the final years that he was as good as a villain. We’re still not sure who is the bad guy in John From Cincinnati, but we’re putting money on Ed Bundy’s bird.

After a long polling process, here’s The Top Ten of HBO’s Diabolical Decade:

10. Atia of the Julii – Rome – (Polly Walker) – She was the most wonderful mother a future emperor could ever have. She fucked for power. She fucked for peace. Occasionally she fucked cause she was in the mood. Her body was the Appian Way for her son to ride to the top. She didn’t mind destroying her close friends if she feared they’d turn on her. For an America that was used to Polly Walker from the charming Enchanted April, her lusty turn on Rome was quite shocking.

9. Phil Leotardo – Sopranos – (Frank Vincent) – For the final seasons of The Sopranos, Phil was the ballbusting mobster while Tony emotionally floundered. Phil snuffed the man who loved Johnny Cakes. Phil wanted Jersey to know that New York runs the family. Frank Vincent was able to up his mobster profile from all his Martin Scorsese roles.

8. Roman Grant – Big Love – (Harry Dean Stanton) – This isn’t just a creepy minister of a polygamy community in Utah. Roman is God’s will on Earth. You turn on him and you’ve banished yourself to hell. And he doesn’t wait till you’re dead to make you feel the heat. He also has a major thing for collecting more wives. If you don’t watch out, he’ll marry your daughter! Harry Dean Stanton’s nails the creepy look when he lowers his cowboy hat.

7. Chris Keller – Oz – (Christopher Meloni) – He was a hardcore killer that had no qualms in snuffing folks. Perhaps his crowning moment is what’s called “Pullin’ A Keller” around the joint. He had a guy giving him a blow job in a private part of the prison. Chris unloaded in the guy’s mouth and snapped the sucker’s neck. I never saw Jack Lord do this on Hawaii Five-O. While Meloni has gone on to star in Law and Order: SVU, it’s hard to imagine he’s really protecting Manhattan. He’s just trying to eliminate the competition.

6. Omar Little – The Wire – (Michael K. Williams) – Whenever you see Omar roaming the mean rowhouse streets of Baltimore with his shotgun, you hide. He’s a wild card on the series. He doesn’t mind robbing the drug dealers, but he’s not cleaning up the town. He just wants the money and the dope. Williams has a hardcore look when he loads up his guns that puts him beyond the normal tough guy actors. Why aren’t rappers wearing t-shirts of Omar Little instead of Tony Montana?

5.Brother Justin Crowe – Carnivale – (Clancy Brown) – Was he Satan? Or just a really creepy minister in league with the devil? Brother Justin was taking over America with his church of the airwaves during the Great Depression. He also liked it rough with the female help. Clancy Brown first went after The Highlander and he topped it by taking on the Carny. Did you know he was the voice of Mr. Krabs on Spongebob?

4. Stringer Bell – The Wire – (Idris Elba) – While Avon Barksdale was serving time, Stringer kept the family drug network running. He even used a community college’s small business course work to revitalize the smack trade. Stringer ran into trouble when he discovered that people in the legit world are more cut throat than underground bastards. Idris Elba was robbed of Emmy glory.

3. Al Swearengen – Deadwood – (Ian McShane) – The ultimate cocksucker ran the town of Deadwood with an iron soul. What he didn’t own or control, he’d destroy. One of his great moments he gave a heartfelt monologue while being blown by a hooker. Ian McShane is now starring in Hot Rod with the guy who put his dick in a box.

2. Tony Soprano – Soprano – (James Gandolfini) – What can be said about the icon? He became the second most popular mobster character behind Don Corleone. He dealt with the issues of his family and his mobster crew. While he showed his human side, we also experienced his beast fury.

1. Vern Schillinger – Oz – (J.K. Simmons) – He lead the Aryan Brotherhood in the prison. When he first appeared on the show, we thought he was a nice guy who had been sent to prison for killing the drug dealer that poisoned his sons. But then he burned a swastika into his bunkmates ass before sodomizing it. Vern was pure evil for six seasons. It was a close vote between Vern and Tony for the top spot. But the tie breaker was that Tony refused to snuff his whiney son. Vern had no problem whacking his offspring when they disappointed him. Simmons is now playing Assistant Chief of LAPD on The Closer. He was also the voice of the Yellow M&M. And now he is the Most Diabolical Character from HBO.

SNAKE WATER

How the hell does Vitamin Water not get sued for false advertising?

I’m trying to cut back on my 3 liters of soda that I slurp down a day. I’m down to one cup of diet soda to hold the caffeine headaches back. The rest of the day I drink plenty of water. I want to get back into fight shape for my upcoming Celebrity Boxing match against Jessica Alba.

During a recent location shoot, I reached into the Igloo cooler for a water, but all that’s inside was Vitamin Water. There’s nothing wrong with water with a little vitamins. Who doesn’t take a drink of water with their Flintstones chewies? But this isn’t water. The stuff I had was “Defense” featuring raspberry and apple flavoring. Sure the bottle claims it “contains less than 1% juice,” but wasn’t that true about Hawaiian Punch? And I didn’t taste water so much as flavor when I drank it. It tasted like Kool-Aid without enough sugar. Is this really water or watered down juice? Water should be clear unless it comes from a Cary, North Carolina tap. Then it’s a nice shimmer grey. This Vitamin water stuff was pretty damn red. It had the capability of staining the carpet. Water gets things wet. It doesn’t dye fabric.

Here’s the funny part, the ingredients listed “vegetable juice (color).” What part of raspberry and apple lies in the vegetable flavor? We can argue tomatoes until Nancy Reagan dies, but raspberries and apples are not veggies. Speaking of seeds crops, Vitamin Water also has crystalline fructose. The folks at sugar.org describe this as “produced by allowing the fructose to crystallize from a fructose-enriched corn syrup.” I’m trying to get the corn syrup out of my diet. That’s why I’m cutting back on soda. But these guys at Glauceau are passing off “water” that’s filled with the same crap that’s in soda.

And in a stroke of Idiocracy, the labels also lists “calcium lactate (electrolyte).” Vitamin Water has electrolytes! At what point do you put enough stuff in water that the FDA won’t let you call it water? You put lemons in water and it gets called Lemonade. You put electrolytes, corn syrup and vegetable juice in a bottle and you still get to call it water?

The boys in Glauceau legal came up with a hilarious description of their product.
“Nutrient enhanced water beverage” is what they call their liquid. Under the definition – what isn’t “vitamin water?” Beer is “nutrient enhanced water beverage.” Coffee fits those lines. So does Tea. So is Coke, Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Jolt and Diet Citrus Drop. Even Hawaiian Punch. If you go down to the waste treatment facility, you can dreg up a glassful of sludge and declare it a “Nutrient enhanced water beverage.”

What’s even more shocking is what the boys in marketing tried to hide from me. The nutritional info is obscured by the red top of the label. What does water not have (besides electrolytes)? Go look on a bottle of real water. It should say “O Calories.” When I held the Vitamin Water bottle in a bright light, through the red background, I was able to see that a serving has 50 calories. What’s more showing is that according to Glauceau, one of their 20 ounce bottles contains 2 1/2 servings. Who drinks that little out of a bottle? Does my grandfather work for Glauceau pouring out Vitamin Water in spit sink Dixie Cups? A 20 ounce bottle of Vitamin Water has 125 calories. That’s a lot of your daily intake if you’re sticking to a 2,000 calorie diet.

You know how much water you have to drink to get 125 calories? You can’t. I don’t know exactly what the calorie intake from a One A Day tablet is, but I’m going to guess that it’s not 125 calories when mixed with 20 ounces of water. How can you add this many calories to water and still get to pass it off to water to the American Consumer? This is a beverage that has very little to do with being water. This isn’t a glass of water with a lemon attached to the lip.

Basically this stuff is Gatorade. But you don’t see Gatorade calling themselves Gator Water. While they market the Propel Fitness Water (and I’ve got a beef with that title, too), at least their water is only 25 calories per 20 ounce bottle.

When I reach into a cooler and grab a bottle marked “Water,” I don’t expect to be drinking fattening crap. Forget Formula 50, Glauceu and Coke need to start up a new flavor: Snake Oil. Although the boys in marketing can rebrand it Snake Water with fiery cobra on the label.

DOLPHIN LOGIC

One thing left off my Vegas epic was a visit to The Hooters Hotel and Casino. I thought this was a joke like Otis’ Secret Still Bar. But it was really there in glorious orange and exposed wood. The ladies treated us pretty nice although way too many of them were pregnant. Those hot wings are potent.

What’s even more dangerous is a visit to Dan Marino’s restaurant in the casino. Have you seen all those TV ads where Dan Marino and his football pals beg us to lose weight? The former Miami Dolphin’s quarterback’s health conscious ways don’t visit Las Vegas. A huge sign advertised all you cam eat baby back ribs for $16.99. How the hell does Dan expect America to lose weight when he tempts us with glorious baby back ribs at such an amazing price?

Get with the program, Marino. Either we all lose weight or we all pig out on the precious bones. You can’t have it both ways. Of course he learned this misdirection from his coach. Don Shula also pimps the weight loss on TV. But if you go into his steakhouse, he promotes “The Shula Cut.” This is a 48 ounce porter house steak. If you eat it in one sitting, you get an autograph picture of the coach and your name goes up on his website. Shula promotes one mega-eater that polished off 175 of the Shula Cuts. How can you beg for me to lose a few pounds as you hang out with a guy who has eaten 525 pounds of steak?

If Shula cared about the health of America, he should be praising people who ate the 4.8 ounce porterhouse at his joint.

Why didn’t Shula get Marino a Superbowl? Maybe these two were stuffing their faces during timeouts instead of calling the right plays.

THIS IS IT, GIRL?

Finally had a chance to see Factory Girl, the story of Edie Sedgwick and her time with Andy Warhol. Ever since the book Edie came out in the ’80s, everybody has claimed they were going to make a biographical film about the Youthquaking trust fund girl who was Paris Hilton with a soul. There was once talk of Molly Ringwald in the lead.

The film focused on the quasi-romance between Edie and Andy. Sienna Miller didn’t seem too English playing the girl who fell down the rabbithole of Manhattan. Guy Pearce did the best Warhol since Bowie’s turn under the wig in Basquiat. Halfway through the film, my wife asked me if there was something else on TV. Instead of insisting that things would pick up and get interesting, off went the DVD. The next morning I watched the last hour. Over 20 years of people wanting to make the movie and this was the end result? At least it’s out of Hollywood’s system.

But this isn’t the first semi-biopic that everyone wanted to make and ended up laying on the screen like last week’s potato salad. Bettie (or Betty) Page was also a hot property. The Notorious Bettie Page left me limp. For all the staged debauchery about the fetish star’s career, the movie felt way too clean and reserved. For a film about bondage, I wasn’t wrapped up in the action. Although it did remind us that Gretchen Mol has a great rack. Even the more low budget Bettie Page: Dark Angel was dishwater dull. It spent more time recreating the photo shoots than dragging us into the emotions of the moment. And why did they cast a girl with fake boobs?

The final female film that had a lot of “this needs to be a movie” buzz was Black Dahlia. Nearly 20 years after James Ellroy wrote his fictional account of the case, Brian DePalma made it into a major motion picture. And 20 minutes into the film, I fell asleep. The film has Mia Kirshner as the title role. She normally keeps my eyeballs wide open. Who can forget that very special episode of L Word where she and Sarah Shahi shared a toilet seat? When is someone going to turn that into a motion picture? It demands Imax!

Here were three women that occupied my mind during college. Even I had that hideous thought that I should make their lives into movies. But I left it to the “professionals.” And look what George Hickenlooper, Mary Harron and Brian DePalma did to them? They would have been better off dating O.J. Simpson. It was like going to a 20th reunion and seeing what finally happened to the hot girl in PE class – the first one that had to invest in a jogging bra. Instead of seeing her as an eternal stunner, she’s become the stand-by guest at Jerry Springer.

DINNER: IMPLAUSIBLE

Dinner: Impossible on the Food Network has become highly addictive watching at the estate. Each week Chef Robert Irvine gets stuck somewhere with a little more time as an Iron Chef, but with a semi-inept kitchen staff. He’s got a few hours to create a primo gourmet meal for groups of dozens to thousands. It’s nuts. Recently he had to make such a meal during a Chicago White Sox game using only food in the concessionaires freezer. Talk about a gruesome selection of meats.

What Irvine concocts is rather amazing. We’re going to do try the Dots with margarita mix at a future party. The nice part about the show is a few times he has failed the challenge. He couldn’t create the amazing meal under the deadline. So there is excitement as things come down to the wire.

I dare Robert Irvine to be able to use me a kitchen assistant on an episode. Although he’ll probably have to bow down to my amazing ability to make put stuff on a Ritz Cracker. Can he make the deadline with me mixing up the risotto? And don’t expect to see anything, but shells and gills if there’s lobster in the episode.

And if he doesn’t want me, can I please get to try out for Ball Busting with Gordon Ramsey where I get 1 hour to make everyone in a three star kitchen cry like baby or attempt to strangle me? Beef Wellington? More like Biff Smellington!

NO CAKE FOR ME

The Food Network has informed my that my Ace of Cakes segment has been banned from the channel. Somehow a cake of Alex Rodriguez with a bat shoved up his ass wasn’t considered family friendly.

While I’m blown away by the Charm City creations from Duff Goldman, it’d be nice to get a price tag on a few of those cakes. How much would it cost for me to get the plane slamming into the Titanic cake? Will I be forced to sell my kids on eBay to pay for their birthday cakes? Does he use his electric saw to remove the arms and legs of customers that come up short? Although fondant can be used to stop a bleeding artery.

DAMN VHS

Did you know there’s no way to reduce space on your VHS collection without getting rid of the tapes? When it came time to shrink the DVD shelves, I put the shiny disks in sleeves and tossed out the plastic cases. You removed the box from a VHS tape and you’re pretty much stuck with the same amount of space minus a few cubic millimeters.

BIRDS AND SHIPS

This is a great time for classic animation on DVD. Showing up in the mail over the past week has been Popeye The Sailor: 1933-1938, The Woody Woodpecker and Friends Classic Cartoon Collection and Tex Avery’s Droopy – The Complete Theatrical Collection. There’s more vintage shorts on those DVDs than Cartoon Network has shown in the past year.

All three sets are prime examples of what can be done when folks who are passionate about animation are allowed to work on these projects. This winter looks good with the final installment of Tom and Jerry and Volume Five of Looney Tunes and the rest of the black and white Popeyes.

LIBERATE CUBA

Daddy Day Camp once again makes me to ponder “Why hasn’t Cuba Gooding Jr. gone nuts and beaten a movie executive to death?” Can he seriously be happy taking all these crappy roles? Why hasn’t he at least camped out on Cameron Crowe’s doorstep refusing to move until Cameron writes him a script? He made Cuba an Oscar winner and now he’s reduced to making films so pathetic that Eddie Murphy wouldn’t cash the check on it. And Eddie needs the work between alimony, the Spicegirl baby and the new fiancé. Lawyers don’t get paid with freebie DVDs.

I have hope that his role in American Gangster will make us forget that Cuba Gooding Jr. made Rat Race, Boat Trip and Snow Dogs. If all goes wrong, Cuba could star in The Wayne Brady Story.

CREEPY ENGLISH PEOPLE

First off, bad news to the producers of John From Cincinnati. With the new episodes of No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain back on the Travel Channel every Monday night at 10 p.m., we’re going to watch your show OnDemand on Tuesdays. We’ve already bumped you from Sunday nights because of 4400. The freaky nature of John is enjoyable, but it’s just not “must see” TV cause it’s just too damn confusing. We want to see Bourdain getting lost around the globe versus a bunch of messed up surfers getting lost in a plotline.

We are enjoying Meadowlands on Showtime. This is best described as The Prisoner-family style. Something evil has happened and the family is forced to relocate in an experimental town that’s filled with witness protection people. It’s kinda like Arizona. The father is played by David Morrissey. It’s pretty obvious why he wants a new identity in a town where no one knows him. Did you see Basic Instinct 2? Morrissey probably doesn’t want you to remember him staring at Sharon Stone’s snatch. Felicity Jones, who plays the daughter, wins our Summer Sizzling actress. She knows how to work the bangs.

They did tip their hat to the old Prisoner series when during a soccer match, they had Morrissey wear the “6” jersey.

BECKHAM BLAHS

Did I really watch a soccer match to see a guy come into a match with a few minutes left? Not really. I was only flipping back to the LA Galaxy vs those English players game during commercial breaks of Ice Road Truckers on the History Channel. I can only handle so many shots of a guy sitting on a bench.

If you’ve seen Once In A Lifetime: The Extraordinary Story of the New York Cosmos, you’ll see that when Pele arrived to elevate soccer in America. He didn’t spend too much time on the bench. People tuned in the next game to see the amazing ball work and goals. When it comes to Beckham, they want us to see if he will actually warm up with 10 minutes left. All the hype. The countdowns. The moaning from Europe. And we end up with a guy who would look best on a bench between Sebastian Telfair and Ryan Leaf.

And Herbalife? Why is that on the Galaxy jersey? Did Est not have $25 million ready to burn? Dianetics not ready to get that involved with the beautiful sport? Wonder if Herbalife has a cure for bum ankles? Red Bulls should have sponsored LA since you’ll need a case to stay awake long enough to see if Beckham will take off his sweatsuit.

LAS VEGAS – Lady Luck is about to bitch slap Sin City.

I’ve come out to this town eager to party down at Lindsay Lohan’s 21st birthday party. During our time in rehab, I had promised Firecrotch that her first legal drink was going to be a fuzzy nipple poured across my fuzzy nipples. For those wondering; yes, I did have a relapse on my Sudoku addiction. Damn those numbers and boxes. While I won’t go into details because I don’t want the tabloids to exploit this story, Lindsay saved my life. All I wanted to do to repay the strength she gave me with my struggles with addiction with a few top shelf mixed drinks to welcome her into the world of adulthood.

I arrived in Las Vegas and scooted down to Pure at Caesars Palace to secure my VIP booth. I had IV bags filled with Red Bull to insure that I wouldn’t miss a minute of fun. TMZ was going to be my playground. I sat in the booth for three days. I understand that Lindsay is late because she’s a busy girl. And I know that soon I’d be the reason she’d be late for the set. But then I was informed that there would be no birthday wildness for Lindsay and her friends. I was also told that I had to pay my own tab. They charged me $30 for gummi worms! How could she do this to me? We were supposedly Best Friends Till Step Five! What about the ecstasy, Lindsay?

And so I was stuck in Sin City suffering from Firecrotch withdrawal. Walking the Las Vegas Strip, it became apparent that what stays in Vegas isn’t always the debauchery. Mostly it’s your cash.

TROP-A-PAINA

Augie once declared that Vegas hotels didn’t need spa services since every employee knew how to give you a massage. In the past this town knew how to rub you just the right way so that you didn’t think about all the cash that floated from your wallet. A tourist smiled as they slid a tip to a casino employee. And they knew how to tip you back with sweet comps. Everybody wins – although odds were you weren’t winning cash.

You didn’t care about how much money you blew in Las Vegas. But now every dollar you burn comes with a receipt. Before you have a chance to pour your dollars into a slot machine, the hotel is nickel and diming your ass. A perfect example of this is the Tropicana hotel. We booked the place because it seemed like it was semi-Old School Vegas. After I locked down a great rate thanks to the roaming gnome, I discovered that the package deal didn’t include the “Resort Fee.” The hotel is tacking on a surcharge of $5 a day for their services we could never find in the complex. They charged me for using the pool when we checked in at midnight. They stuck us in a smoking room. Under old school Vegas rules, the desk clerk would have perked us to make up for stinking us in a room reeking of Viceroys and Kools. Even when we got a non-smoking room the second day, they didn’t even send a bellhop up to transfer our luggage. We might as well stayed at a Budget Inn.

The moron who decided to slap the Resort Fee on the bill didn’t understand that it pissed me off so much that I decided to take my main gambling action down the road. It’s not like they weren’t going to get that $20 from me after I stumbled across the That Girl slot machine near the elevator. But I played it at different casino (it might have been the Hooters casino behind us). I didn’t play it too long since t wasn’t paying off. I don’t want to feel angry at Marlo Thomas for taking my cash. Plus there wasn’t any winning panels featuring the Impeccable Hair of Ted Bessell. Marlo will be getting $20 from me in August, 7 when That Girl: Season Three comes out from Shout! Factory.

How was the Resort action for my $5 a day? Blah. The pool had too many leaves floating in it. Nobody seemed too eager to clear the floating futz. And the towel they gave me felt like it was stolen from a United Nations Refuge Camp.

SKIN OFF

The big thing the Tropicana pushed was Bodies. No matter where you were in the hotel or on the strip, you weren’t far from the image of a Chinese guy whose skin had been ripped off, head cut in half and organs left dangling in space. It was on posters. It was on the marquee. It was on the top of cabs. It was on rolling billboards. It was on my room key-card. It was too much.

Am I wrong in thinking that this is a pretty gross image? How exactly do we have Congressional hearings over Janet Jackson’s barely seen nipple (that was nearly hidden by a strange piece of jewelry), but nobody seems to care about posters of a dissected corpse plastered all over the neighborhood? Am I to believe that if Justin Timberlake had ripped the flesh off Janet’s chest during the Superbowl show, we’d all say, “That’s educational and entertaining!” Is there not a single parent in America willing to demand that the advertising for Bodies needs to be toned down? Or do all parents think their five year old kids need to involuntarily see a skinned and sliced human being as they look out the mini-van windows? Slim Goodbody was gross, but he didn’t quite look like the Incredible Melting Man.

I’m not going to get into the politics of where these bodies are coming from. Although it is strange they said that exhibits supposedly agreed to be used this way. Who donates their body to Showbiz? Joan Rivers doesn’t count. What’s strange is that after the Chinese government decided to tighten up and slow down adoption of their babies by American couples, they’re renting us their corpses. Is this a cradle to the grave policy shift?

There were a lot of Asian guests at the Tropicana. I wonder if they felt uncomfortable knowing their neighbors were on display in the main exhibit room. Did any of them recognize the guy on the keycard? Did any of them fear that if they protested the resort fee, they’d end up playing Poker with their innards on the outside?

VEGAS TIPS

Don’t rent a car if you fly into Vegas. You don’t need to be clogging up the Las Vegas Strip.

The town is filled with cabs. Put them to use. Why not risk a chance to be on HBO?

The roaming gnome told us to take the Grey Line from the airport to the hotel. It was $5 per person. We didn’t wait too long to load up and head out. But the ride back turned into a nightmare. They were supposed to pick us up 2 1/2 hours before the flight. No need to cut it too close knowing how fast those security lines grow and how slow the scanner cops work. Do they get paid by the hour or the bag? They have to be careful cause they can’t allow too much breast milk near the planes.

We stood outside the hotel a half an hour before the designated time to make sure we didn’t get missed. They missed us. Or just didn’t give a crap in the city built on craps. What was more frustrating than waiting in 112 degree heat was calling up the Grey Line’s phone number to find out where the hell they were since we were sweating in the hellish afternoon. I never got off their hold system. I was dumped off it on several occasions and had to call back. I burned through 50 cellphone minutes getting no response. Even though we pre-paid for the return voyage, I had to hail a cab. Once again, another Vegas company that doesn’t strike me as willing to give me a massage or pick up the phone.

Although while waiting in the heat, we got to watch a Jerry Springer level meltdown between a couple in front of the hotel. This woman went nuts on her baby’s daddy. And the guy was trying to keep his woman in check while constantly having to worry about his half off pants falling all the way down as he chased and pleaded with her. When are urban posers going to realize that nobody wants to see the top half of your boxer shorts? It’s not fashion. The only reason we watch you is because we sense that your pants will drop, you’ll trip, hit the ground and “impersonate” Phil Leotardo. We’re rooting for your demise, speedbump. Buy a belt.

For getting around during the day, The Deuce is cheaper than a cab. These are the numerous double decker buses that roam the Strip and run down to Freemont Street. If you sit up top and look down, you’ll be treated to more thrills than the roller coaster on the Stratosphere. I can’t even count the number of near misses that took place during one short trip. These buses cut through the traffic like a cow rollerskating through Swan Lake. The best part is that for $5 you can ride around for 24 hours. It’s like you’re gambling with house money when you watch multiple crashes without risking your car insurance.

The only bad Deuce incident we experienced was a late night trip to Freemont Street. We ended up waiting 45 minutes for a departing bus. There was this loud drunk fat guy who kept shouting at people in convertibles. He had to tell his friends about everything they had just done. During the early days of Vegas, mobsters must have killed these dorks in order to make the rest of us enjoy our stay. Do they make double sized holes in the desert? Luckily he grabbed a cab 2 minutes before the bus arrived. Nothing worse than being stuffed against a five day old Dread Snapper in a sardine can.

NETHER VEGAS

Once you go past the Stratosphere on the way to Freemont, you leave the world of mega-casino-hotels and enter a shady zone filled with wedding chapels, tattoo parlors and tiny motels. While staring out the Deuce window looking at these creepy sleepovers, I’m struck with the thought that every night clerk must has a story about Andy Dick calling for room service at 4 a.m. The Party Favors would like to congratulate Jon Lovitz for attacking Andy Dick at the Laugh Factory. A decade ago, I’d talk to Andy often on the phone. He was a great guy to talk to at odd hours. But since then, he’s become a monster. For a creative and funny guy, Andy has pissed it away. Hopefully Lovitz bashing his face will allow him to understand that there is a price to being an asshole. The incident has inspired a new VH1 series: Who Wants to Beat the Crap Out Of Andy Dick? Three people get to plead their case as to why Andy pissed them off. The audience votes and the winner gets to lay a beating on Dick. The runners up get to hold him down.

CRANE GAME

Here’s a joke you’ll hear every time you talk to a Vegas local: What’s the state bird of Nevada? The crane!!!

It’s funny cause it’s overwhelmingly true.

You want to get treated like a king in this town, don’t show up with Sean Combs and Britney Spears. You roll into town tugging a crane. Every pit boss on the strip will comp your ass. You’re a high rise roller. They’ll offer you everything under the sun to make sure you don’t take your skyscraping action to Dubai. Here’s a late to the party stock tip: Invest in cranes! They’re all going up! Is that a Wall Street construction joke?

CityCenter’s construction site had at least two dozen cranes of various sizes in play. It was like a Dr. Seuss book illustration with all the around the clock activity. What’s amazing is this latest Kirk Kerkorian mega-resort/casino has a price tag of $7 Billion. For those who thought the Dallas Cowboys were going overboard with their billion dollar stadium, here’s a place where that state of the art dome’s budget is meaningless. A billion will probably be the cost overrun on this project. Crammed inside the 76 acres will be numerous towers containing 7.500 hotel rooms and condos, hundreds of offices and a space shuttle launching pad.

The huge projects on the Las Vegas Strip now flowing onto the other side of the airport. The mega-casinos will flow for miles. Now before you decide to strike it rich land speculating, here’s a warning: Those “For Sale” signs on the empty lots on the Las Vegas strip are lies. All that land is being developed. Nobody is selling their land – especially buy putting up a sign. The land owners rent the sign space to realtors. When you call that number thinking you can become Steve Wynn Jr., they’re going to come up with a “it’s under contract” BS and then try to interest you into desert acreage that’s on the “next big zone.”

The city does need to change its slogan to “Pardon Our Dust.” You couldn’t walk anywhere without encountering a construction zone.

The hotels on the strip are following the McMansion craze that’s sweeping the nation. There’s no real approach space. Most of the casinos are slammed against the sidewalk. The casinos are so slammed together, it almost feels like downtown Manhattan.
The lush entrance of Caesars Palace has been tossed aside as they dump buildings all over what was a magnificent view. There’s no space for future Evel Knievels to leap over the water fountain. The once stunning landmark has lost its splendor with all the faux Roman junk filling the acreage. It’s a nutty neighbor’s lawn that’s been covered with plastic animals and windmills. It looks like one of those places that sell concrete yard statues.

Cinematographers do an amazing job to create the illusion of space when they shoot in Vegas. It’s hard to line up a shot that doesn’t look busy or show the other five casinos in the row. And its just going to get worse as even more hotels transform on the strip. The New Frontier is about to get demolished to make way for a resort that will look like the Plaza Hotel in New York. What’s the point of that? I’d rather be in Manhattan to experience the real deal. This was the first casino to book Elvis. And soon it’ll be rubble. We dropped by to see the Gilley’s bar that was hosting female mud wrestling. The place looked dead and we didn’t see any hot women lurking near the main bar. We decided to spend the Mud Wrestling ticket price in the Elvis themed slot machines. It only seemed appropriate. It’ll implode soon like so much of this town’s legends.

We were also told Tropicana and Circus Circus will be doing major reconstruction. The Aladdin is still making its transition to the Planet Hollywood Casino. How did that miserable relic of the ’90s dining afford a casino? While you’re waiting for your next blackjack hand, the dealer will attempt to sell you a t-shirt. What’s odd is that the Planet Hollywood restaurant is across the street at Caesar’s Palace. By the way, have you ever heard Caesar sing?

MAGIC MAN

Whenever we passed a parking lot, I’d yell out, “Is Criss Angel performing here, tonight?” The greatest trick Criss Angel has ever performed was making us think that he performs. Mindfreak was shot at the Aladdin/Planet Hollywood casino. But when I asked the guys at the Planet Hollywood ticket office when Criss Angel was going to be on stage, they laughed. Neither had ever seen a real stage show with Angel. What exactly is the point of Criss Angel becoming a magical personality if he’s not doing it every night on the big stage? They said he was now signed to perform at the Luxor. But the big headliner at the Luxor was CarrotTop.

My hotel window looked out at a 40 ft. high picture of CarrotTop in front of the Luxor. A mega-screen on the side of the MGM Grand pimped the prop comic by showing him barechested. After that sight, I was unable to achieve an erection for five days. Images of a half naked CarrotTop and the butchered Chinese guy don’t need to be shown in public.

We did see a lot of posters for Pam Anderson’s semi-act. The star of Stacked is only a magician’s assistant for the guy performing at Planet Hollywood. What does that say about your talent when you can’t even slap together a lame song and dance routine for 45 minutes? Jayne Mansfield did it. She didn’t even have Autotune. The least Pam can do is juggle her old implants. They really fixed her up on the poster so she didn’t look so burned out.

A more visually pleasant view is the side of the Flamingo Hotel covered with a giant picture of Toni Braxton striking a Lola Falana pose. Not sure about the show. They push the $100 tickets with “Toni Braxton takes audiences on a visual and musical journey through her life.” Make sure you eat a good meal before the show cause it sounds like a long trip.

WATER STOP

In case you get a dry throat from all the dirt in the air, don’t drink from your hotel room tap. It was chunky style with a tangy after taste. Luckily the nearby Walgreens Drugs had 2 1/2 gallons of drinkable water that cost as much as small bottle of Dassani in the hotel’s Coke machine.

BAD TELE

If you live in Las Vegas, you don’t need me to explain that your local television sucks. Not that it sucks any worse than most any other city in America. The local channels either had the news, Oprah, judge shows or Jerry Springer marathons. Whatever happened to I Love Lucy reruns? I’m in Vegas – shouldn’t there be a channel showing Vegas? Where’s the Dan Tanna love? While laying low in the hotel room to avoid the heat, we ended up watching the Elmo’s World segment of Sesame Street. There’s a chance that Elmo will end up in rehab next year. He’s showing a little meth-mouth around the gums.

We couldn’t take the constant news. Most of the local reporters were recounting the poor woman who was beaten to death on her Scoot-around. It was like they were promoting an episode of CSI. Something about old women being beaten to death in 113 degree heat that makes me ponder the up side of moving to Las Vegas.

Besides the crappy local TV, the Tropicana had crappy TV sets. The screen was barely 15 inches. I wasn’t expecting a 60 inch HiDef entertainment machine. But why a set that’s smaller than my video camera’s viewfinder?

The cable channel selection barely had ESPN. They had TNT, but no TBS. I was denied Comedy Central. And they didn’t have HBO. Nor Showtime. What hotel doesn’t have a single HBO channel? The creepy Crescent Motel on US 1 has HBO. And they don’t charge an extra $5 a day as a resort fee. Luckily we weren’t staying on a Sunday night. I can’t bare to miss John From Cincinnati. The first episode I miss will be the one that makes sense out of the show. When did Ed Bundy get the power to heal the dead?

The Tropicana didn’t even have any porn channels. What’s the point of being in a Vegas hotel without sanitized hotel porn? Sunny Lane was supposed to have a Spectra-vision debut! Did you know you can watch hotel room porn in Salt Lake City? Sin City gets trumped by Sprite-ville.

And the damn set didn’t have RCA input jacks so I couldn’t patch in my portable DVD player. Although the monitor on my DVD player was nearly as big as the hotel TV. We ended up watching network crap as we recovered from Keno madness.

Why are there two shows about people not knowing the lyrics to pop songs on network TV? Why is there BINGO on ABC? Why exactly are the network suits broadcasting star impersonators? Do I really care if you can dance? Why has network television been reduced to a UHF station booking amateur acts for a telethon? This crap wouldn’t cut it at summer camp. Maybe next week the dorks at NBC can have Competitive Macramé? And why do we have to import English losers to be on the panel? Aren’t we allowed to judge our fellow Americans? Remember folks that the last time a guy in England tried to control our country, we rebelled. It’s time to throw Simon and his Brit clones into Boston Harbor!

INFLIGHT REVIEWS

The nice part about traveling with a portable DVD player is not being held hostage by bad in-flight movies. Perhaps hostage is a bad word when relating to air travel. Hopefully that sentence won’t put me on the Homeland Security Don’t Fly List. But I feel terrorized by Will Smith inflight movies. Crap. I shouldn’t have said terrorized. Remind me to pack lube in my carry on case so the anal probe will feel seductive. How much Analez can you take onto a plane without being anally probed as a terrorist for transporting anal lube?

What was on my DVD player heading out to Vegas? It was a double feature of documentaries. If you were underwhelmed by last year’s Miami Vice,, then you need to pick up Cocaine Cowboys (Magnolia Films). This is the inside skinny on how the Columbians turned Miami from a retirement community into the location of Miami Vice. Jon Pernell Roberts and Mickey Munday give thrilling tales of how they smuggled the cocaine into Florida and dealt with the Columbians. The movie makes it sound like in the early days, the cocaine business worked like Amway. Everybody was getting rich and living the good life. Things go bad on the arrival of Griselda Blanco, the Colombian Godmother. She’s as bloodthirsty as they come. She doesn’t mind having kids killed during hits. She’s the reason Miami became the Murder capital – to the dismay of Detroit, Washington D.C. and Newark. If you have all five seasons of Miami Vice, Blow and three different releases of Scarface on the shelf, then you better get your hands on Cocaine Cowboys. It’s also cool that Jan Hammer did the score for the movie. I was told that they hired Hammer after getting a quote for how much it would cost to license the Miami Vice theme. It was cheaper to hire “Jan the Man.”

The second feature was You’re Gonna Miss Me (Palm Pictures), a documentary about Roky Erickson. You might not know him by name, but you’ve heard his song “You’re Gonna Miss Me” on Dell computer ads. He was the main man behind the 13th Floor Elevators, a Texas psychedelic band that has a cult following amongst those who appreciate Nuggets. Before the guys could make it big, Roky flipped out. The film charts his mental breakdowns and attempts at recovery. It kind of reminds me of The Devil and Daniel Johnston since both men lived in Austin, Texas and hung out with the Butthole Surfers. Here’s a quick tip, if you are attempting to stay sane – do not hang out with the Butthole Surfers. Gibby Haynes is the anti-Oprah. If you are trying to get your head straight – do not let Gibby touch you. He’s like Madonna when she sucked the career out of Britney Spears mouth at the VMAs. The film isn’t told with only vintage footage and talking heads. We get to see Roky’s brother tries to rescue him from their mother. Can Roky flourish in the straight world?

YELLOW CAB FEVER

Leave it me to get HBO’s Taxicab Confessions and Discovery’s Cash Cab mixed up. I’d like to apologize to Ben Bailey for what I was doing with the two Glitter Gultch dancers while he tossed me the questions. The nice thing was that I was able to get a free cab ride back to the Dean Martin suite and pay for my dates using my knowledge of Francis Weber. I do feel bad for Ben having to hose out the backseat behind Circus Circus, but I was the winner. Those off duty clowns were merciless to Ben as they kept squeaking their noses as he scrubbed organic matter off the floorboard. My episode will be airing on the Pay-Per-View special.

PRICE IS WRONG

All along The Party Favors has declared that Todd Newton was lined up to take over The Price Is Right after Bob Barker laid down his skinny microphone. The network and producers have been making Todd’s life hell as each week they float another potential big name host whether it be George Hamilton, Rosie O’Donnell or Drew Carey. Why are we sticking with Todd? Because he hosts a live version of The Price Is Right at Ballys each afternoon. We had plans to drop by and see his live audition. There was only one thing that prevented us playing Plinko. They wanted $50 for a ticket!

What the hell is that about? To see the real show with Bob Barker was free. To see a recreation in Vegas, they’re charging $50. We’re not blaming Todd Newton for this price. We’re still rooting for him to be Mr. Showcase Showdown. But that’s a fierce price for afternoon entertainment. Although I would have paid for the adult version to see Dian Parkinson drop her bikini top while demonstrating the Turtlewax rub.

We ended up spending our afternoon playing the Wheel of Fortune slot machine.

RABBIT TROUBLE

Another thing we skipped was the Playboy Club at the Palms. We drove by the place and saw the giant bunny on the side of the tower. But decided against visiting when it was explained it was about a three hour wait to get into the place. My parents went to one of the real Playboy Clubs back in the ’60s. They didn’t wait in line for three hours to see real Playboy Bunnies with the fuzzy tails. I’m not going to stand for three hours for the hope of going inside a space to wait another two hours for my drink. Do they even have the Rabbit head swizzle sticks? What would “Ace” Rothstein say if he discovered people were standing in line for three hours to get into a club? He’d go nuts knowing that it’s three hours that we’re not gambling.

The Palms is another reason why Vegas is losing its cool for me. Old Vegas was a town that made you feel beautiful. No matter how big of a schlub you were, the doorman made you feel handsome and wanted. They even had greeters to make you feel like you had arrived. But New Vegas wants you to prove that you’re young and beautiful enough to dare visit. It’s like a party at Nicole Richie’s house. The velvet touch has become the velvet rope. Probably what stays in Vegas is your self-esteem. Are you pretty enough to hang out at Rehab or the faux-Studio 54? New Vegas doesn’t want Gene Hackman hanging out at their pool. This is a town that begs for George Clooney and Brad Pitt to crank out Ocean’s 21. Sleek and soulless structures glittering on a cramped street.

Remember a decade ago when Las Vegas wanted to be family friendly destination? Las Disney? Well that didn’t work out too good after the news media focused on roaming children while the parents remained glued to the roulette wheel. New Vegas wants to depict itself as adult playground, but what it really wants is those overgrown imbeciles that earn more cash than sense. What’s the point in begging to be accepted into a society that worships Paris Hilton and the cast of That ’70s Show? Do you want to have to rub elbows with Brandon Davis to get past the velvet rope?

NO MOUSE CASINO

We pondered the weird question: Why doesn’t Disney have a casino? They have the perfect characters to use in various slot machines. Three Poohs pays off the honeypot. They have themes for their hotel rooms. Why won’t the Mouse collect cheese in the desert? Is it because of the children? Nope. It’s because Disney doesn’t like the idea of having to pay off winners. The mouse didn’t get rich by giving it away. Nobody rides the monorail for free!

COST VEGAS

Las Vegas has always been seen as a cheap vacation. Ask anyone what they think of a trip to Vegas. They’ll talk about cheap hotel rooms, cheap buffets and comp show tickets. And what did they do with all the savings? They doubled down! But New Vegas doesn’t want any of that cheap crap. Think you’ll be getting a deal at Wynn, Venetian or Bellagio that rivals Circus Circus? The beautiful people must have all their fat in their wallets.

And the cheap eats are nearly a thing of the past. We went to the Spice buffet in the Planet Hollywood. It’s was $25 a head. They seemed to offer an amazing variety of international food. But every item had something off. The biggest offender was the King Crab legs. They were Viscount size. Plus they were boiled to the point of being shredded rubber. The stuffed grape leaves seemed like they were filled with paste. In order to slow eaters down, they wouldn’t let us refill our drinks. We had to wait for the waitress to perform this vital task. And our waitress was extra busy hiding from us.

Here’s a quick tip if you’re stuck at a buffet that won’t let you refill your drink as you reload your plate: as for a soda and a water. The buffet in the Tropicana also had the no drink refill policy. But they had an amazing omelet chef. He was a cheerful face on a rough morning.

The best buffet we found was Circus Circus. They didn’t try to overwhelm us with international selections. It was hardcore American entrees. They served meat! The offerings on the row would be best described as gambling fuel. Chow down and roll out. The pork and chicken were moist. The veggies crisp enough. And I could refill my soda whenever it was time. Circus Circus is still living up to its Diamonds Are Forever legacy.

THE BEST GAME IN TOWN

While some people go on vacation to play golf or ski or run with the bulls, I have my own favorite sport: Time Share Tours. It’s a true test of my will power against harden pros. In Vegas, I had two chances to get stuck with 1/52nd of a condo. Vegas is the prime city for hardcore time share action. While Orlando has more units, Vegas features the most annoying radio ads in the world. “It’s Las Vegas calling!” Tanya Roberts croaks. She’s the spokeswoman for Tahiti Village. I had to see if I could hold out against her and Alan Thicke. Vegas has been home to many great boxing matches and a Wrestlemania. How would I be able to deal with the heat in the 90 minute presentation?

Here’s three tips if you want to play to win:

1. Never admit you’ve been on a time share tour. Remember that all information you put down on the survey will be used against you when the finance guy arrives at your table. If you admit you’re a vet, you’re going to get pounded twice as hard. They will hit you with that nasty question about how you could be on a “free vacation” if you’d bought the timeshare in the past. Also claim that you work for a small company and rarely get a chance to go on week long vacations.

2. Don’t let your wife talk. This isn’t a macho move. She is considered the weak link by the sale staff. They know that she really controls the checkbook. If she seems curious, they’re going to double their powers to break her and take you down. The same is also true with children. The salesmen will turn into camp counselors to make the kids whine, “Daddy, we want to come here every year!” Your family ties will be wrapped around your neck as they force you into submission.

3. Don’t take too much pity on the salesmen. Most of them are really nice guys, but let’s face the simple fact: You’re only there because you want the promised freebies. You’re there to play the game and not make friends. You’re not looking for real estate.

The first place we hit was on the far side of the Palms. Their big selling point was a series of pics of the company owner hanging out with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Our primary salesman was a young kid that we nicknamed “Bill or Ted.” He was really laid back in his selling style. At one point he let us know that he’d already sold 3 units that day so he was under no pressure to hardball sell us. How laid back was he? At no point did he tell us the actual price of the unit. When the finance guy arrived, he kept talking vague numbers, but no point was there a hard number written on the scrap paper.

We had made the mistake of mentioning we’d visited a timeshare in Orlando. The finance guy went straight for the whole business of how we could have been visiting Las Vegas for “free.” He was all about making us feel guilty for not buying into the life. The key to competitive Time Share presentations is to not lose your cool and shout. You have to break their “No is merely a reluctant yes” salesmen philosophy. You want to see their posture deflate into the “These people aren’t buying” exhale. We had a 20 minute battle that made me draw into the strength that Robert Hegyes displayed on the tug of war finals of the first Battle of the Network Stars. They pulled out the brilliant logic trap of “If it wasn’t about the money, would you buy it?” Of course it’s about the money. This is the sex with a monkey for a million dollars joke. if you answer yes, they’ll spend the next hour trying to find the payment plan that’ll enslave you. You need to answer that you can’t deal with another piece of real estate at that moment. Once you give them a number, you’ve opened up a cut over your eye.

My defense story was that we were in the process of buying a bigger house and didn’t have the cash to invest on vacation property. They gave up on us. And we went off to collect our tickets. Our “winnings” included 2 tickets to V: The Variety Show and Nathan Burton plus 2 buffets at Spice. That’s a good amount of freebies for less than 2 hours of struggle. That’s better than the payout on the Match Game slot machine.

Of course they had the last bit of revenge. They had shuttled us to the time share joint. We wanted nearly 40 minutes in the 105 degree afternoon heat as vans drove past us. Finally we had to grab an off duty driver and beg him to return us to civilization or the World of M&Ms – whichever was closer.

I feared that the Tahiti Village would be my Waterloo. How can I compete against an all star line up that included Butch Patrick and the ghost of Al Lewis on the walls? We had a nice enough of a salesman giving us the tour. Although it was an odd tour since they were selling units for the new phase that was under construction. This was a series of buildings that would house over a 1,000 condos. He told me a lot of info about the town. Tahiti Village is on the side of the Strip that’s going to be under construction soon. Three casinos were going to be springing up in the neighborhood. He pointed out a spot that they were building a multi-billion dollar indoor ski slope like the one in Dubai. Why exactly you need to spend a fortune to build a ski slope since Vegas isn’t that far from skiable mountains? Think of all the energy that will be needed to keep that fresh packed powder snow on the phony slope in 115 degree heat. Al Gore sheds a tear for you, Las Vegas.

The sales guy almost had me thinking that this would be a great investment. But then he showed me the price. A two bedroom unit cost nearly $50,000. On top of that the yearly maintenance fee was $500. Ouch. They needed me to leave a deposit of $8,000 if I wanted to get in on the ground floor. When does the free part of time share vacations kick in? I pretty much didn’t have to make any excuses why that was too rich for my blood. I might be distantly related to the Maloof brothers, but not close enough to know their pin number. What’s even more frightening is a quick crunch of the numbers showed that the apartment had a price tag of $2.5 million if you bought it for the year. While the apartment was nice, it wasn’t $2.5 million nice. For that price, I expect hot and cold running hookers. I want a hot tub in the middle of my revolving bed. I want a bidet! And when you factor that unit price into the phase, Tahiti Village is a $2.5 billion dollar piece of real estate. That’s why Las Vegas can afford to keep calling you on your local sports radio channel.

When the finance guy arrived at our table, he tried to make a weird deal where we’d buy a single unit that we could use every other year. I went into the home upgrade story and he backed off. They didn’t even send the closer over to double team us. We were taken straight to the window to collect our booty. This time the tickets involved 2 tickets for Ice: Direct From Russia , Folies Bergere and the Tropicana’s buffet. After this hit, we were set for three nights of Vegas entertainment and two free meals. Now that’s old school Vegas.

Unlike the first joint, the Tahiti Village didn’t have us waiting long. Guess they needed to remove the odor of resistance from the lobby. It felt good to go 2-0 in my Vegas debut. I don’t want to brag, but those UFC guys don’t battle it out on back to back nights. Time Share Battling is a man’s sport that needs to be run on Spike. But were the shows worth the blood and missing teeth?

SHOWTIME

When we arrived in Vegas, I took at pact to avoid any Cirque du Soleil productions. They just creep me out with the freaky music, the spooky make up and their French Canadian attitude. They’ve taken over nearly major hotel in Vegas with their dangling circus act. Plus none of the Time Share joints offered Cirque tickets as freebies.

Also added to the no go list was Danny Gans. I had never heard of this guy, but his act at the Mirage has sold out for the next two years. Scalped tickets offered by brokers were close to $200. And what does he do? Pull a canned ham out of his mouth? Give you the secret to Keno numbers? Has sex with Britney Spears? Nope. He puts on a pair of glasses and impersonates George Burns. That’s entertainment?

The Producers was playing at Paris, but David Hasselhoff had left the cast. It was hard to tell who was in the show. I was hoping it was Pauly Shore and Chuck Norris. Now that’s worth burning the kids’ college fund. Luckily because of my bounty of freebies, we didn’t have to consult a loan specialist to see Blue Man Group. But were the fresh shows worth the price?

V: The Variety Show is a rough and tumble version of a talent show in what’s being rebranded as the Miracle Mile in the Planet Hollywood. The place still has it’s Middle East motif from when it was part of the Aladdin. V features Two Gauchos act as the MCs for a group of acts that include magic, juggling and balancing. They kept it lively as they had fun with members of the crowd. A few of the acts had appeared on last season of America’s Got Talent. The star of the show is Joe “TV Guy” Trammel. If CarrotTop and Frank Gorshin did so much blow (cut with rocket fuel) that their molecules hypervibrated and they merged, they would have created this act. In a scant few minutes he goes through decades of pop culture with dance moves and props. A day after the show we discovered him on Freemont Street in a jail cell. Turns out that he was spending time behind bars to match Paris Hilton’s hard time. You can actually see highlights of his incarceration on Youtube. We joked about Paris Hilton’s great quote that jail “was like being in a cage.”

The strange part about seeing V was recognizing faces from the Time Share tour. We gave each other that nod that gets captured at the end of disaster flicks between survivors.

We returned the following afternoon to the same theater to check out magician Nathan Burton. He had been a star on America’s Got Talent. I remember his illusion where he flushed a cop down a toilet. He’s a likable enough magician. And his face isn’t as creepy as Lance Burton. He turned each trick into a biographical vignette. It’s a good family magic show that doesn’t cost so much that you have to eBay your youngest.

Ice: Direct From Russia at the Riveria is a new show. They turned the stage into an ice rink including a loop into the audience so the performer can skate out to you. This was the same stage that Dean Martin once roamed. Now it was ready for Gordie Howe’s comeback. The show itself is majestic. A group of over three dozen Russian skaters perform a variety of acts that go between sweet, seductive, comic and thrilling. The opening alone is amazing with 40 people skating on the stage at once without slamming into each other. My favorite routine was a couple skating with kites. You heard it right, not only were they skating in the showroom, but they were flying kites. It was passionate and pure as they always kept moving. Later in the show one woman was hula-hooping on skates. She had so many silver hula-hoops going at once that she looked like a slinky.

We were told by the time share folks that they did two shows including an adult show. Visions of the legendary Showtime special Spice on Ice overwhelmed my senses. Sexy Russian female skaters going topless gets my attention over a bunch of guys covered in blue paint. But since the show had just opened, they only had one family style show each night. But even fully clothed, I got an eyeful of the women in motion. This show was a true reward for sitting through time share assault.

Folies Bergere at the Tropicana is a great Showgirls experience. And they did have the adult show. Strange to see people walk out of the theater when the dancers drop their tops. The upset audience members acted like it was a tribute to Catherine the Great with their sensibilities disturbed. The show featured lots of dance numbers. In the middle of the set, we were treated to a comic who juggled bowling balls. When you visit Las Vegas, at some point you must witness the glory of a statuesque woman with a giant feathered headdress.

All four shows were worth the hassle of resisting the hardcore sales pitch. I don’t recommend the sport of Time Share Pitching to people with weak wills and fat checkbooks.

What was really missing from the trip was the legendary dinner and a show of old Vegas. A ticket seller told me that the dinner and show died with Liberace. Who knew he was the that talented. He performed and cooked for his fans. I only hope that after time in his kitchen, he washed his hands before playing his piano. I also hope that before he cooked, he washed his hands after playing his organ. Please tip your waitress. Enjoy the veal!

ROGER WATER

The video screen outside the MGM Grand pimped the upcoming Roger Waters tour by declaring him, “The Genius Behind Pink Floyd!” Does this mean David Gilmour has to be billed as “The Fraud Who Drafted On the Genius of the Genius Behind Pink Floyd?”

LEAVING LAS VEGAS

We headed over to the Paris casino to get a freebie ride up to the top of their Eiffel Tower. It’s only when you’re 500 feet above the town that can you see beyond the mega-casinos to the small houses sprawling away from the strip. There’s a lot of people eager to live in 114 degree temperatures. Also all of the hotel construction becomes visible in a single glance. How long can it grow at this price?

For the longest time Last Vegas has claimed that it’s recession proof. That people will come no matter what’s going on in the world’s wallet. But all of these projects are costing billions (nobody does anything for a couple million bucks in this town anymore). And the cost of living the good life in Sin City has gone up faster than the jackpot on the Monopoly slot machine. This isn’t the cheap getaway of a decade ago. Everything was cheap in order to lure you to the felt covered tables. Those days seem to be slipping away. You are going to pay and pay for every minute you stay in the city. How long can so many luxury hotels with 3,000 rooms apiece pop up on the strip?

This is probably my last vacation to Vegas. The attitude is stifling. My shoulders felt tense. Instead of feeling like a welcomed guest, the corporate attitude of New Vegas is judgmental. Instead of employees asking me, “Would you like this, Sir?” The company handbook demands a response of “What do you want, now?” If you’re not Lindsay Lohan or a 600 ft. crane, this town has little need for your ass. My next visit to Nevada will be to Reno where I know I can eat a magnificent lobster dinner off Bunny Love at the Bunny Ranch.

FLYING HOME

Kudos to Airtran for installing XM satellite radio in their arm rests. Even though we got screwed twice connecting through Atlanta, being able to listen to the various channels instead of a screaming brat kept me calm. That airport is a mess on a sunny day. We spent 30 minutes on the tarmac waiting for gate to open up so we could race to our connecting flight. And then there was another long wait to get on the runway. But I was able to zone out to these hassles while listening to a baseball game.

The most beautiful moment was on the final leg. As we flew through the night sky, I turned to their ’60s channel. There was the voice of Wolfman Jack introducing the oldies. This was strange since he had died a dozen years ago, but he sounded more alive than any DJ working today. It made perfect sense when he bellowed, “Mercy!” Miles in the sky above the clouds I was listening to the Wolfman howling at the full moon from his heavenly abode. Finally my shoulders relaxed with an aural massage.

As the buzz of making “100 Years – 100 Beers” died down, our eyes adjusted to the light and we realized that a few titles were on various lists that became stuffed between the sofa cushions. We’re not going to be a bunch of AFI wusses and claim that these lost nominees and votes will get factored in a decade from now. We’re not going to sneak in and rewrite the list and have Tony Snow claim that you misread the list. We’re going to do what every good party requires – A Beer Run for one more 12 Pack of Cinematic Joy.

Don’t ask where these titles rank with the 100 list. I’m not willing to bounce 12 titles from the first list. When you’re wasted and lying in bed during an orgy, you don’t get kick out that extra potential lover. Unless they’re whiney and keep pointing and going “that’s not good.” But none of these 112 titles are prudes. Here’s a 12 pack that rivals a dozen chilled bottles of Yuengling:

12. Mystery of the Leaping Fish (1916) – Douglas Fairbanks plays Coke Ennyday, a detective who can’t solve a crime until he gets wasted on dope. This sounds like the basis of a Showtime series.

11. Fifth Element (1997) – Anytime you’re trashed and you turn on the TV set, TBS has this in marathon mode. Milla Jovovich with orange hair still makes me drool although that might just be from being on the verge of passing out. Am I wrong in thinking that if I had Bruce Willis’ cellphone number and called him at 3 a.m. and said, “Bruce!” He’d say, “Do you need more booze? I’m coming over to party!”

10. Akira (1988) if I could figure out this Japanese anime flick, I would have been able to pass organic chemistry.

9. Half Baked (1998) – Have you ever looked at the back of the DVD box? Jon Stewart is in the bushes. Look at it!

8. The Care Bears Movie (1985) – It’s not good to fall asleep with so much booze in your body. By watching five minutes of the Care Bears, you’re guaranteed to puke up all the demon booze in your belly. The best hangover cure is to not have one.

7. The Jerk (1979) – If you watch this on TV, you’ll never know Steve Martin’s dog’s name. We were wasted one night and it struck us that since Steve merely sold his invention to the company, he should have been able to not be sued since the company was liable for the safety of the product.

6. The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953) – Dr. Seuss shows us the evils of piano lessons. If you get the DVD, there’s the uncut Horton Hatches An Egg cartoon complete with Peter Lorre fish blowing his brains out.

5. Reefer Madness (2005) – Until White Trash Wins Lotto comes out at the cineplex, this is the best damn musical. You might also want to watch the original anti-drug flick.

4. Evil Dead 2 (1987) – This is the one where Bruce Campbell has the chainsaw arm? Or is the knights? Or the tree sexually attacks the woman? I can’t remember. Best to just play all three flicks. We call Army of Darkness, Evil Dead at my house cause were too lazy to remember the rebranding.

3. The Warriors (1979) – See it now before the lame remake ruins your memory.

2. Porky’s (1982) has the greatest movie trailer ever made. Remember kids that putting your dork through a hole in a girl’s shower can be hazardous to your health.

1. Cheech and Chong’s Up In Smoke (1978) is the gold standard of wasted cinema. Do not attempt to match the on screen intake. The DVD has amazing deleted scenes including how a guard played by Harry Dean Stanton doped up the boys before they went before the judge.

After reading way too many 100 Greatest movie lists from AFI, it’s time to come up with a list that truly reflects how a majority of people enjoy their cinema: Drunk on the sofa. But would those whores at AFI ask their blue ribbon panel to reveal their favorite films to watch with a six pack and a pizza? Screw ’em. Forget screwin’ those leatherskinned Lalaland puffy shirt wearing fools. We at the “Party Favors” have put together our own Pabst Blue Ribbon panel to vote and debate the greatest films to watch while wasted. Don’t argue too much about the ranking since we were drunk and our math skills went to hell. We’re still working on a TV special on Spike with Tom Sizemore hosting. Keep your fingers crossed that we can get him.

100. Borat (2006) – This would have scored higher, but a group of dorks decided to recite every line during breakfast.

99. Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine (1965) – Vincent Price makes an army of hot robot women in bikinis that are out to rule the world. Our only hope is Frankie Avalon. We’re doomed.

98. Night of the Living Dead (1968) – Anybody want some sausage?

97. The Black Cat (1934) – Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and a Satanic cult adds up to twisted times at a remote castle.

96. Zardoz (1974) – Sean Connery can’t be seen sober in his freaky wardrobe.

95. Damnation Alley (1977) – A bitchin’ van cruising around a post-apocalyptic world. We’re doomed, so get me another drink!

94. Fritz the Cat (1972) – R. Crumb’s little cat begging to be cool in the ’60s is brought to X-rated animation.

93. Viva Las Vegas (1964) – Ann-Margret shaking her thang at Elvis in scope is cinema!

92. The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) – Vincent Price is a monster without a face getting revenge on the Doctors that couldn’t save his wife. Wonder if Phibes is mentioned in Sicko?

91. Our Man Flint (1966) – James Coburn is going to save the world one lady at a time.

90. Cafe Flesh (1982) – After a nuclear war, most Americans have lost their sex libidos so they go to clubs to watch other screw. The M.C. played by Andy Nichols is a stunner.

89. Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (1985) – This film is much better than The Bicycle Thief and it’s in English.

88. Blow (2001) – Johnny Depp hooks America on cocaine. But he doesn’t snort any lines off Penelope Cruz’s ass.

87. Cannonball Run (1981) – How come Hollywood doesn’t make great movies anymore? Damn you, Judd Apatow!

86. National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983) – The last time Chevy Chase was funny.

85. Big Lebowski (1998) – You better have all the makings for a White Russian before pressing play.

84. Freaked (1993) – The power of transformation at its peak.

83. This Is Spinal Tap (1984) – Your TV volume needs to go to 11.

82. Bachelor Party (1984) – Adrian Zmed rules the universe.

81. Airplane (1980) – Mrs. Cleaver knows how to talk jive.

80. The Godfather I & II (1972) – Do not watch III. No Fredo, no movie.

79. Orgazmo (1997) – The South Park boys mix crime fighting, Mormonism and porn into a tribute to The Sexorcist.

78. Goodfellas (1990) – Try matching your shots with Henry Hill’s shots.

77. Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928) – The town falls down around Buster Keaton.

76. Dolemite (1975) – Has there ever been a badder pimp than Rudy Ray Moore? This film goes up a star with every beer.

75. Horse Feathers (1932) – Marx Brothers destroy a college.

74. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989) – Dude, we’re time traveling!

73. Sid and Nancy (1986) – So damn punk rock. You’ll never stop mocking Rod Stewart and limos after seeing this.

72. Clerks (1994) – Ron Jeremy used to be able to pleasure himself without snapping his neck.

71. Transformers (1984) – Orson Welles will destroy us all!

70. Breakfast Club (1985) – Ally Sheedy was hot before Molly Ringwald slathered her in whore paint.
69. Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) – Now she’s Buffy, the Husband with a Pregnant Wife Stealer.

68. Withnail & I (1987) – Do not attempt to match drinks with Danny.

67. Team America: World Police (2004) – Puppets having German style sex is all the rage.

66. Heavy Metal (1981) – The future of animation is rather raunchy.

65. Starship Troopers (1997) – Doogie Howser saves the Earth!

64. Raising Arizona (1987) – Randall “Tex” Cobb is coming for you, too.

63. 2001: a Space Odyssey (1968) – See you next Wednesday.

62. El Topo (1970) – This western is not to be viewed with a sober mind.

61. Blue Velvet (1986) – Frank Booth will rock your world.

60. The Party (1968) – Peter Sellers plays an Indian actor (from the country) that after destroying a movie, accidentally gets invited to a Hollywood big shot’s party. He turns this social event into a disaster zone. There’s even an elephant.

59. The Wedding Singer (1998) – The last time I thought Drew Barrymore was tempting. And I do want to hurt that Dead or Alive clone.

58. Spice World (1997) – The return and death of kitsch cinema. Did any English actor turn down a cameo gig?

57. Fight Club (1999) – You know who I want to fight? Arnold the Pig.

56. Last Tango in Paris (1972) – You’ll want to see this film with someone you love and plenty of butter.

55. Spy Who Loved Me (1977) – The birth of the cheesy Bond. Roger Moore is all quips and we get him fighting Jaws. Plus there’s sharks. Bonus comes with Caroline Munro.

54. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997) – Remember when Liz Hurley was hot in that Emma Peel leather jumpsuit?

53. Shaft (1971) – Don’t watch that weak remake. This is the real deal with John Shaft keeping the mob out of Harlem.

52. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) – Roger Ebert and Russ Meyer give us the true story of Josie and the Pussycats. The soundtrack is still groovy.

51. The Wild Bunch (1969) – Sam Peckinpah’s masterpiece about a crew of robbers that get tangled up in a Mexican arms deal. Forget Marty, this is Ernest Borgnine’s greatest screen role.

50. The Good, The Bad and the Ugly (1966) – Clint Eastwood’s final Spaghetti Western is an epic on all levels. We might know his name, but he’s so badass, you won’t want to get his attention.

49. Captain Kronos – Vampire Hunter (1974) – Enough of the blood sucking, bring on more Caroline Munro.

48. Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) – Shame the video isn’t out on 3-D. Would be nice to be buzzed and having Julia Adams swim into my lap.

47. Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) – David Bowie is a space alien who….I’m not sure what the hell is going on. But after a little refreshment, the plot just flows over me.

46. Aguirre Wrath of God (1972) – Werner Herzog and Klaus Kinski go into the rain forest to show us pure insanity.

45. Taxi Driver (1976) – A lot of guys bring dates to see this movie.

44. Muppet Movie (1979) – You know the secret to the “Rainbow Connection?”

43. The Birds (1963) – Hitchcock reminds you why its important to eat chicken.

42. Slap Shot (1977) – The ultimate sports film. Paul Newman thinks he can save his minor league hockey team by bringing a brutal edge to their play. He trades for the Hanson brothers. While trio looks like helpless geeks, they put the “oon” in goon.

41. Hard-Boiled (1992) – Remember when you were pumped up to see a new John Woo film? Rumor has it that after making this film, John choked to death on a shell casing and his brother Ron Woo flew to America to make gems like Broken Arrow.

40. Super Fly (1972) – Big pimpin’ as the Priest makes the deal of his life.

39. Boogie Nights (1977) – Burt Reynolds is a porn filmmaker who likes to keep his work at home. What happened to Heather Graham? Get the bonus DVD to see her extra topless scene.

38. Barbarella (1968) – Jane Fonda stripping down in zero gravity. Stephen Colbert stole my DVD. Sci-Fi hasn’t looked any sexier. Bring on the future.

37. Blues Brothers (1980) – Make sure you only watch the extended cut with more John Lee Hooker.

36. Fast Times At Ridgemont High (1982) – Whenever anyone wonders what makes America so great; show them the clip of Phoebe Cates getting out of the pool.

35. Bad News Bears (1976) – Try to match Coach Buttermaker. And if you’re a tenderfoot, just equal Kelly Leak.

34. Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS (1975) – An epic of sex and violence. They’re going to
remake it with Jessica Simpson.

33. The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover (1989) – Don’t order the special.

32. A Clockwork Orange (1971) – Caution: You will start speaking like Alex after one screening, my little droogies.

31. Friday the 13th (any of them) – Another reason to avoid working at summer camps.

30. Hellraiser (1987) after a couple shots, you might attempt the Pinhead look. Remember to take a pic and put it on your profile page.

29. Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) – All the monsters at one low price.

28. Commando (1985) Remember, Arnie, when I promised to pick you last? I lied.

27. Pink Flamingos (1972) – A great test for seeing who has the queasiest stomach.

26. Enter the Dragon (1973) – Bruce Lee’s defining film. He goes undercover to spy at a tournament of death. He’s saving the world with only his fists and feet. And a couple cool martial arts weapons that we used to buy at flea markets.

25. True Romance (1993) – Brad Pitt stole the film by smoking weed out of a honey bear.

24. Animal House (1978) – After the first round of refreshments, put on your best bed sheets.
Don’t follow these instructions while watching Birth of A Nation cause that might lead to trouble.

23. Cobra (1986) – The greatest opening 20 minutes in cinematic history. As Sly says, “You’re the disease, and I’m the cure.” Cure to sobriety!

22. Invasion U.S.A. (1985) – Chuck Norris saves us from the terrorists. How come Chuck isn’t in charge of Homeland Security?

21. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969) – If there was one thing I learned from Raymond J. Regis, it was that this Bond adventure is criminally underplayed during Bond marathons. George Lazenby was the best Bond for this flick.

20. Orca (1977) – Best moment is when the Killer Whale nibbles off Bo Derek’s leg. “Like a pretzel,” my dad said in the theater.

19. The Silencers (1966) – Dean Martin is superspy Matt Helm. This might be the last film to glamorize drinking and driving. Dean has a wet bar in his car. This is where Austin Powers swiped the mojo.

18. Death Drug (1978) – An epic in the career of Philip Michael Thomas. This was supposed to be a short anti-drug film, but after Miami Vice, the producers padded the movie with every frame of film shot and new video footage in front of a curtain. PMT is a musician who gets his big break with the Gap band on the same night he gets hooked on PCP.

17. All Monsters Attack (1969) – Godzilla and the other monsters get mind controlled by aliens and rampage around the globe. Does Nationwide cover your car getting crushed by Rodan?

16. Scarface (1983) – You can’t get on MTV Cribs without this DVD in the collection.

15. Idiocracy (2006) – Mike Judge gives us a realistic view of America where we’ve evolved into one Springer Nation. I want a handjob when I go to Starbucks.

14. Any Three Stooges Short with Curly – Don’t settle for Joe Besser.

13. Death Race 2000 (1975) – A cross country race where drivers get bonus points for running over people. Paris Hilton will be in the remake as a pedestrian.

12. King of New York (1990) – Christopher Walken is a singin’ and dancin’ drug lord.

11. Better Off Dead (1985) – Curtis Armstrong is the greatest actor of his generation to never get called the greatest actor of his generation by Roger Ebert.

10. Eraserhead (1977) – Remember that Hostess Snowballs can be used as a beauty aid.

9. Harold and Kumar Go to the White Castle (Unrated) (2004) – Doogie Howser sniffing cocaine off a stripper’s ass while speeding down the highway. How are we supposed to believe Neil Patrick Harris is gay?

8. Friday (1995) – Another great performance from Tiny “Zeus” Lister Jr.

7. Saturday Night Fever (1977) – The irony of this film is that its anti-disco. You doubt me? What happens at the end of the film? Travolta discovers the disco lifestyle is false. He realizes that his dancing can go before

6. Disco Godfather (1980) – Put your weight on it! Rudy Ray Moore is the greatest disco DJ. But he has to stop the angel dust invasion when it ruins Bucky, a basketball superstar. Attack the Whack. Whack the Attack. Or Attack Whack.

5. Faster Pussycat Kill! Kill! (1965) – A trio of strippers terrorize the desert in their sports cars.

4. Drunken Master (1978) – Jackie Chan learns how to fight by getting boozed up. That’s the best way to kick ass, kids. The sequel is also worth watching if you’re still buzzed from the first round of fights.

3. Can’t Stop the Music (1980) – All bow down before the power of the Guttenchest!

2. Strange Brew (1983) – SCTV favorites Bob and Doug McKenzie arrive on the big screen. They go to work at the Elsinore Brewery and discover its dark secret.

1. Smokey and the Bandit (1977) – The greatest movie ever about a beer run. All must worship the treasure that’s Jerry Reed!

VATICAN CITY – Forget fast tracking Pope John Paul II and Mother Teresa; this week Pope Benedict needs to toss out the rules and canonize Charles Nelson Reilly as the Patron Saint of Quips.

This is not the first time that people have declared Charles Nelson Reilly a religious icon. Many a misspent night was accompanied by the Dead Milkmen’s “Serrated Edge.” Rodney had it right when he sang of a Charles Nelson Reilly orgy with 15 girls. But he was wrong when he called Reilly, “Just another greedy actor on the late late show!”

Reilly didn’t make that many movies that ended up on the air at 3 am. For a majority of Americans, Reilly occupied the last seat of the top row on Match Game. In the era before the internet, a bunch of us always debated what the hell did Charles do to become famous enough to get on a game show. We knew Richard Dawson deserved the middle chair below for his valiant work against the Nazis on Hogan’s Heroes. But Charles? Since there was no easy reference books that work like imdb or wikipedia, we didn’t know that he was a Broadway superstar. He won a Tony. He was respected by his peers. We didn’t know that. We just knew him as the guy from Match Game. Technically, he played the evil magician Hoodoo on Sid & Marty Krofft’s Lidsville before his tenure on the gameshow, but the ’70s were a time of excess and drugs – especially for those of us in elementary school. It also didn’t hurt that they reran old Saturday morning Krofft shows for decades so childhood memories blurred in college – especially when mixed with Boone’s Farm Strawberry wine.

As messed up as we were in third grade during the 70s, a few of us thought that Charles and Brett Somers were married. The two of them had amazing chemistry – like that aunt and uncle that show up at weddings and get liquored up during the reception. They knew how to embarrass each other. Nothing was off base between the two. They were hilarious as they ribbed each other during the show. They seemed like the perfect old married couple. Always knowing how to poke without punching. How could we not know that Charles was gay? Some call it denial, but I never thought anyone would have sex with Charles. Back in the 70s, after a person turned 50, they stopped having sex. You might not know it, but Logan’s Run was a documentary. It made sense that even though Brett and Charles weren’t sexual in their relationship, they’d still be married.

Has science ever determined how many young men discovered their true sexual nature from identifying with Charles on Match Game and Paul Lynde on Hollywood Squares? Were these two men a litmus test for a generation? I wouldn’t know because I felt a bond with Richard Dawson since he always had the answers that made the money.

Reilly represents a time that’s no longer permitted on TV. He’d be smoking a cigar, tipsy from between show cocktails and saying really questionable stuff as “answers.” He lived on the edge of broadcast standards. He was no mild George Gobel. He’s the type of performer that today gets thousands of emailed complaints to the FCC from James Dobson and his Focus on the Family pitbulls. How dare the children of America be exposed to such a person! In an America where the FCC fined millions for a barely exposed, nearly covered by a piercing nipple, Reilly would have bankrupted CBS with his scarf, pipe and captain’s hat.

Charles wasn’t afraid to expose his vanity on the show. On one episode he showed up late because he was having hair plugs. He didn’t lie. Although he’d tell the truth with such theatrics that you couldn’t believe it. He would have made a perfect presidential spokesman.

The nice thing is that after Match Game ended, Charles didn’t disappear into the woodwork. He returned to live acting. I’ve worked with a few of his dramatic pupils. They all had praise for his techniques. He didn’t merely teach the kids to squawk like Uncle Croc. He became Tony nominated as a director. He popped up in various places on TV. My favorite was his X-Files episode: “Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space.’” He was brilliant in that. Charles also voiced The Dirty Bubble on Spongebob SquarePants. He was an icon among icons.

I’m eager to see Life of Reilly, a documentary about his one man show Save It For the Stage. I’ve read that the film will be out on DVD this fall. I plan on buying a copy and not merely putting it on my Netflix queue. This film must go on the shelf next to the Match Game boxset. Future generations must know of his glory.

It’s hard to say that this star has passed away. Charles Nelson Reilly is immortal. As long as GSN keeps the Match Game episodes running, Charles will be there for us. If you wish to pay tribute to Charles, you can round up 15 women for an orgy. If you can’t make that happen, then order up a Manhattan (Charles used Jim Beam with no cherry), lift it up and offer a toast to St. Charles. He’s in the upper corner looking down on us, just like it should be, in the shag carpet universe.

If Pope Benedict needs a miracle to help it along, I prayed for the intervention of Charles Nelson Reilly to cure my Itchy Sweater Syndrome. It worked. Now I just suffer from Terminal Turtleneck. Thank you, Future St. Charles Nelson Reilly!

BRANSON – Who knew that the hottest ticket this summer would be the Astelins tour. Luckily they are fans of the Party Favors so they’ve taken me along as their atmosphere coordinator.

I’m so messed up backstage with these party boys of Pharm-rock.

Yes, you heard it from me (and not Pitchfork or Rolling Stone), there’s a new genre in town. Pharm-Rock is the hottest thing going this summer. It’s bigger than Emo. Forget about Bright Eyes, the hot women this year have Red Eyes and they want the type of relief that the Astelins bring every night across America. They’ve already sold out Red Rocks, the Staples Center and three nights in Madison Square Garden. Not to mention SRO at the Holiday Inn.

The ladies go frickin’ insane when S breaks out his Side Effects solo. He’d might compete with Tom Jones for panties piles except it seems that way too many of the ladies nowadays go commando. They “Sun” the S by letting him know that the biggest side effect he’ll be dealing with is a vertical smile that Blackfoot would appreciate. Forget Van Halen’s M&Ms, backstage features bowls of the magic pills for the honeys to ingest. It’s like a party at Chevy Chase’s intervention. Although the drowsy side effect makes the backstage honeys easy targets. Even Morrisey could get laid here. I’ve been told the Secret Service has direct orders from the White House to keep the Bush twins away from the Astelins. They’ll clear out your head and your inhibitions.

I’ve hotel partied with Black Sabbath, Judas Priest and Slayer. But the Astelins bring back the debauchery that Jimmy Page would appreciate. I never knew you could get a petting zoo from room service at the Trump Plaza.

The Embarq Trio is the opening act. Those are such a pack of hipsters that their bong has the Grove Press Black Cat logo. I’m filled with pills and wireless action. When will the party stop?

CHARGE IT

They keep pushing the iPhone, Hello Moto and all the wonderful things that they want to shove onto cellphones. They want to send instant movies, music and websites to my tiny phone. But here’s my simple question – have they come up with a battery that lasts longer than two hours? I have a new Motorola phone and that battery needs recharging after a day of barely being used. What hope will there be if I’m doing a Dick Tracy teleconference? Do they sell backpacks with car batteries inside to go along with these new models?

Every time I visit the Genius Bar at the Apple Store, there’s at least two people ahead me that have iPods with dead batteries. Imagine the joy of frying your iPhone battery? Maybe the cellphones of the future should also be able to use their antennas to pick up power from the air? Give us the Tesla future!

TAT ME

Why don’t the give the actual time it takes to get a tattoo on Miami Ink? They make it seem like it takes longer to get a haircut than cover your back with a portrait of your pitbull. When I show up wanting to get a portrait of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra kicking the crap out of Jack Warner across my back; it’d be nice to know if it’ll be a three day event of pain. Is that too much to ask, Ami?

MOVE BEYOND

This is a simple plea to Michael Bouble – move beyond the Frank Sinatra records. It’s nice to pay tribute to the Vegas legends. But if I want to hear Sinatra, I’ll listen to my Sinatra. May I recommend you crack open Bob Mould’s songbook? He’s written at least a dozen songs that could be interpreted with your lounge charts. “See A Little Light” could make the girls swoon. Don’t merely mimic. Innovate and point out that some people do write them like they used to – you just have to find them. How about doing Nick Drake’s “Poor Boy.” That’s got a jazz vibe and you get to have a mocking moment from your background singers. Clay Aiken didn’t listen to my advice and look what has happened to him.

WHY FAKE IT?

Why does VH1 have Rock Honors? What exactly is the point in them giving time to ZZ Top, Ozzy and Genesis since they don’t play them on that channel anymore? Shouldn’t VH1 be honoring Flavor Flav, Dustin Diamond and Jerry Springer? That’s all I ever see on that channel. Does Spike TV play tribute to their old Country Music programming? Give up the charade, VH1. We know you celebrate the day the music died. Quit ruining VH1Classic by turning it into your junk drawer. I don’t need to see that 12 hour Jackson Family mini-series. Stick to doing freakish old videos, great BBC concerts and the Classic rock.

BOOZE OF THE YEAR!

Party Favors’ Wine of the Year Award goes to a very subtle Barossa Grenache called Bitch from Australia. Whenever we go to the Underground, my wife can’t help, but ask the waitress for a “glass of Bitch!” In California, you can probably get sued. If you’re getting sick of the word police led by Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and Russell Simmons, do yourself a favor and ask out loud for a bottle of Bitch! And don’t call it the B-word. If you can’t order it right, you don’t deserve to drink it all night.

Speaking with Dan and Linda, my connections in Melbourne, I’ve discovered the Australian wine market is in overdrive. It is cheaper to buy a bottle of wine than a can of Fosters in the supermarket. The Kangavines are bursting with goodness.

I only hope that Bitch doesn’t cut into the market for my private label: Beatdown Vineyards. We’re going after the Nighttrain and MadDog crowd. This is not to be confused with our GetUF’dUp Malt Liquor.

Remember that drinking Bitch doesn’t make you one especially if you cut it with a little Blow Monkeys action.

OVEN SECRETS EXPOSED

Kitchen Confidential lasted only a few weeks on Fox as a sitcom back in 2005. But those folks at the house of Rupes decided that they need to serve up the entrees in the freezer. So now all 13 episodes of the show are on a 2 DVD collection. This is kinda like what they recently did with Pam Anderson’s Nobel prize nominated Stacked!

The show is not even close to Anthony Bourdain’s book. It’s a shame it doesn’t have strange flashbacks to Bourdain’s years working at the deep fried seafood joints of Provincetown. Where’s the pirate kitchen crew with girl nicknames? How come the Chef Bourdain doesn’t talk about the Simpsons? Why does the pastry chef look like Richard Kind’s younger brother? At least the seafood guy is from Harold and Kumar Go to The White Castle. Now that’s a movie that can give you the munchies. Is there still frozen White Castle mini-burgers in the freezer.

If you can accept that this show has nothing to do with the book – it’s a fun sitcom. Bradley Cooper’s Jack Bourdain doesn’t act like the Anthony Bourdain that roams the globe on the Travel Channel’s No Reservations. Cooper looks like Ralph Fiennes’ funny brother. He looks like he could run a kitchen and seduce stewardesses. Pack on a couple more pounds and he’ll be cast in the Gordon Ramsay action movie: Sauteed Ass Whooping in Imax 3-D. I was rejected from the new season of Hell’s Kitchen. Ramsay was jealous of my ability to put everything on Ritz crackers. If it’s good enough for Andy Griffith, it’s good enough for me.

TASTE OF LOVE

Does anyone know if Ewan McGregor is the spokesman for a Haggis flavored toothpaste? Is anything outside of haggis, promoted as having the taste of haggis without being haggis? Do they have Haggis flavored energy drinks in the Seven-Elevens of Scotland?

QUOTE THIS

Can Tiger Woods quote all the lines from Caddyshack II? Does Dan Aykroyd remember any of his lines as Capt. Tom Everett? Chevy Chase must have lost all of his memories from this film about two rehabs ago. Is Jackie Mason more proud of this film or his Chicken Soup series? Jackie’s listed as having starred in A Stroke of Genius with Fred Berry. Jackie versus Rerun. Why isn’t that film getting rerun at 3 a.m.?

NBCee YOU LATER

Expect the Peacock network to be competing for viewers with Ion. It’s like they love to embrace a losing attitude. They won’t be happy until they create a network dedicated to Law and No Deal. Convicts have to pick their jail term from the silver briefcases. Ready to make your pick, Paris?

Chuck is about a computer geek who has spy secrets embedded in his brain. Dude, that a Keanu Reeves movie that runs every weekend on cable. Remember Johnny Mnemonic? Maybe next season they’ll make a series out of Feeling Minnesota?

My favorite show description is Life. A detective is given a second chance after spending years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Wasn’t that the basis of Rockford Files?

How the hell is NBC bringing back the Bionic Woman without having a Six Million Dollar Man series on the air? This would be like remaking The Ropers without having them spun off a second take of Three’s Company. Jaime Sommers is nothing without Steve Austin. Also what’s the point of remaking The Bionic Woman without having DVDs of the original series on the shelf? Or at least they need to run them on Sci-Fi channel when they aren’t doing one of their crappy CGI films. Did any of the guys at NBC recognize the simple fact that the original Bionic Woman aired for 2 1/2 seasons? That’s not exactly a Derby favorite bloodline. Remember what happened when ABC brought back Kolchak: The Nightstalker? Why remake a show that didn’t make it to 100 episodes? How about bringing back Emeril? How about 21st Century Golden Girls with Valerie Harper, Mary Tyler Moore, Cloris Leachman and Ed Asner in drag?

Speaking of the Kentucky Derby, I’m sorry about my hot tip. But at least it allowed the headline to read “Scat Daddy Poops Out.” Which was also the critic’s quote used on the box for Germany’s #1 DVD for the past two years.

SUNDUNCED

Robert Redford has once again dismissed my pairing for Sundance’s Iconclasts. Who wouldn’t want to spend an hour with America Ferrera and Abel Ferrara? Ugly Betty hanging with The Bad Lieutenant in a Brooklyn dive bar might win the Reality Emmy. The fun would be in seeing if America is willing to match Abel’s intact of various substance.

Maybe he’ll finally approve of my fallback: Steve Buscemi and John Waters going to Mount Airy, North Carolina for Mayberry Days to meet the greatest Barney Fife impersonator. Imagine John and Steve swapping tales as they handcrank the ice cream.

SNIFF IT

Bruce Campbell’s “Hungry Like a Wolf” singer ad for Old Spice body spray almost makes me want to drench myself. But I don’t have enough shag carpet in the living room and my Casio’s AC adapter is lost. What am I going to do with all the woman if I can’t tinkle the ivories for them?

DAMN YOU, TIMBERLAKE

I wasn’t completely repulsed by seeing Justin Timberlake in Alpha Dog. Damn it. I want to throw crap at the screen when he appears. But he does an amazing job. He might charm his way to a Golden Globe.

Lukas Haas when greased up looks ready to play Lemmy in The Motorhead Movie in 3-D.

Amanda Seyfried is such a cutie in the film. Be nice to see her in the new season of Big Love (starts June 11 on HBO). Will this be the year that Roman Grant makes her his latest bride as a peace offering? Who else is waiting for Harry Dean Stanton to drop trousers on the channel?

Do wonder if they’ll be having an Alpha Dog and Bully double feature at the teenage halfway house? There really should be a Teens gone extra bad movie series section at Blockbuster call it “The Children of River’s Edge.”

FLIP EXCUSE

Has any busted perv on Dateline’s Predator Kitchen ever claimed that he’s dyslexic and thought the female typing was 41 and not 14? The key to this defense is to meet her at 11:11 so you can have an excuse why you didn’t mess up the meeting time.

ENOUGH RUN

Why does MTV keep showing marathons of Run’s House? Remember when MTV was a scourge of society? Now this? It’s about as fun as watching Springer Hustle. Why the hell is that show on? Enough with the “our jobs are sooooo tough” BS programming. I don’t care. Springer lost it for me when they cut back on hot bisexual strippers that were always cheating on their men. Enough with the touring company of Deliverance: The Musical….in 3-D!

Here’s a special thanks to the guys at E!’s The Soup for biting the bullet and finding the vapid highlights from Sons of Hollywood. Has there ever been a greater reason to demand stars be neutered before they breed these wastes of organic matter? These kids have everything they desire, but they all need a harsh beating. You watch a minute of this show and think Bing Crosby had a reason to smack his kids with a golf club.

STROKE NO MORE

Here are 10 women I no longer think about while pleasuring myself. I’m sorry if you made the list, but it’s just the truth. The lust between us is over. Don’t cry, ladies. I hope you remember the good times or at least remember me thinking about what would have been the good times. If you need any tissues, they’re on the nightstand. Don’t touch the ones on the floor.

• 10. Christina Ricci – even half naked and chained to a radiator wasn’t a turn on.

• 9. Jennifer Connelly – imagined her as a groovy semi-hippie gal. The type that would love browsing through used bookstores before going next door to the adult bookstore. But then she showed up on Leno and came off as Courtney Cox’s sister.

• 8. Jessica Simpson – kept thinking Joe Simpson was hiding in the closet with his personal video crew.

• 7. Gayle King – Oprah kept banging on the door. It ruined my rhythm.

• 6. Angelina Jolie – During her wild days, I’d let her do soooo much to me. Leather, latex, flames, PVC pipe and needles weren’t out of the question. But the fantasies devolved into Brad’s waiting in the mini-van with the kids. She’s on the cellphone saving the world. Angelina looks over at me on the bed and asks, “Can’t you take care of yourself?”

• 5. Drew Barrymore – I won’t touch anything that Tom Green has eaten.

• 4. Winona Ryder – if she had pleaded guilty, I would have had a fantasy of her earning Trustee status at Corey Correctional.

• 3. Bea Arthur – Why fantasize when the dream is only a phone call away?

• 2. Any Woman I Went to College with That I’ve Encountered in the Past Two Years – Those that moved far away from me, you’re still on my good list.

• 1. Uma Thurman – My Super Ex-Girlfriend summed us up.

YONKERS – Once again Time Magazine has put out its 100 Most Influential People issue and completely blew me off. In the interest of spite, can I make fun of all 100 people picked before me? David Spade does have permission to steal any material in this article. He needs the help.

Tina Fey: Did I miss 30 Rock being the ratings sensation of 2006 stories? The show is limping in for a second season. She’s the Sheriff had bigger numbers.

Youssou N’Dour: Isn’t this the 20th anniversary of him being pushed into the limelight? Not saying the guy doesn’t deserve a listen, but he’s a cult musician’s cult musician.

Anna Netrebko: The Russian soprano does look nice in red next to the piano. If only she was a mail order bride.

Justin Timberlake: What? He influenced a lot of people to avoid seeing Black Snake Moan.

Sacha Baron Cohen: Borat is so 2006.

Leonardo DiCaprio: I never bought him as a Southie in The Departed.

Nora Roberts: My mom doesn’t read her.

Rick Rubin: Another flashback to 1986.

Marin Scorsese: What a tough pick. Last year he was a flash in the pan.

Cate Blanchett: You know what you did.

Alber Elbaz: The pic made me think they nominated Peter Sellers.

America Ferrera: She doesn’t look Ugly in this picture, although she has the Betty thing working.

Simon Fuller: The man who killed the music.

Brain Grazer: After all the crap he pulled at the LA Times, why did they allow this man in their magazine.

John Mayer: All that matters is that he’s boffing Jessica Simpson. Screw her once, way to go. Keep the relationship going for longer than a month, I question your ability to exist in an intelligent universe. Has Joe Simpson given him notes?

David Mitchell: He wrote a book. I’ll judge him when the movie comes out.

Kate Moss: Do a lot of coke. Let your kids be watched by a junkie. Be a superstar! I don’t want to be influenced by this skank.

Rosie O’Donnell: I was disappointed when her feud with the Donald ended without mutual destruction.

Brad Pitt: He didn’t fight to have his name on the Oscar for The Departed. Too busy holding kids to fight for an Academy Award moment? Plus he’s making “Ocean’s 13.” The nightmare continues. Nice to see the writer skip over the fact that he was boffing Angelina Jolie while still married.

Sondra Rhimes: Grey’s Anatomy makes me fear visits to the hospital since I know my doctors would rather be screwing than stitching me up.

Kara Walker: I guess she’s an artist that does multi-media.

Brian Williams: He’s influential cause his name isn’t Katie Couric.

Queen Elizabeth II: Huh? I wanna get her haircut, right now!

Tzipi Livni: Anyone that Condoleezza Rice can gush about is on my suspect list.

Archbishop Peter Akinola: He’s going after America’s Episcopal Church for electing a gay bishop.

Liu Qi: If I say anything about a Chinese leader, this column will be banned in the Far East.

Condoleezza Rice: “As Secretary of State, Rice, 52, has consistently communicated to the world that although the U.S. is a great nation, it is not perfect.” This is especially come true when it comes to our intell when we invade your country. Pardon the dust we make of your citizens.

Omar Hassan al-Bashir: Any enemy of Don Cheadle is an enemy of mine.

John Roberts: At least he doesn’t have the stripes on his robe.

Sonia Gandhi: If I say anything about her, those call center folks will never let me get another outgoing phone line.

Raul Castro: The Tommy Aaron of dictators.

Arnold Schwarzenegger: Hopefully he’ll run for another 4 years instead of making “Terminator 4.”

General David Petraeus: John McCain gives him a sloppy kiss the mag. If it was anymore “loving,” the general would be kicked out.

Hillary Clinton: Don’t you already feel nostalgic for the Rodham?

Hu Jintao: Another Chinese leader. Another chance to get banned from taking part in the Olympics as part of the drinking team.

King Abdullah: Thanks for making me pay $3 a gallon to gas up. Hope you have enough gold plated toilet paper for your family.

Nancy Pelosi: Why does she have that hideous laugh? And why can’t she embrace Colbert?

Barack Obama: I think he might run for president.

Michael Bloomberg: He will buy you!

Ayatullah Ali Khamenei: I’m not in the mood to see me burned in effigy.

Pope Benedict XVI: He’s the Raul Castro of Popes. I keep imagining his name is written on masking tape on the Pope’s door bell.

Angela Merkel: Think she got teased about Merkle’s Boner?

Osama bin Laden: This is just a trap. Time expects him to show up at the party and then Obama and Pelosi will shoot him.

Oprah Winfrey: St. Oprah will save the world from evil rappers! She wants us to go green, but then she pimps gas guzzling cars to her audience.

Elizabeth Edwards: Best neighbor a rural guy will ever have in North Carolina.

Warren Buffett: He gave $31 billion to Bill Gates. Cause Bill really needs the bucks. I heard Melinda has been making Top Ramen for the last month.

Drew Gilpin Faust: Was this woman named by Thomas Pynchon?

Wesley Autrey: I always fear getting to close to the subway platform in case a nutjob wants to push people in front of the train. At least we know Autrey will save us.

Tony Dungy: If Rodney Harrison hadn’t been on the DL, Tony would be spending this summer wondering if Peyton will ever will the Superbowl.

Roger Federer: Does anyone really watch men’s tennis? Why not list the world’s Jokari champ?

Tyra Banks: Did you buy her record?

Youk Chhang: Eagerly waiting for Angelina Jolie to adopt him.

George Clooney: He’ll save the world, but he’ll still punish us with “Ocean’s 13.”

Michael J. Fox: When will Jason Bateman play him on Broadway?

Timothy Gittins: He drinks Bud Light. There goes his shot at being the face of Miller Lite.

Judith Mackay: She’s trying to stop smoking in Asia. What does she expect me to do with all my Godzilla ashtrays?

Chien-Ming Wang: Dice-K will destroy you!

Maher Arar: The Syrians told the Bush White House that this Canadian citizen wouldn’t be tortured. If you can’t trust a terrorist country, who can you trust?

Thierry Henry: He’s French and plays soccer. Two reasons to ignore him in America.

Zeng Jinyan: See the Chinese policy as stated above.

Garry Kasparov: Big Blue misses you.

Amr Khaled: They say he’s not a household name in the West. Really? I suggest a vowel to get him big in Iowa.

Al Gore: He knows how to go green with a little help from Willie Nelson.

Neil deGrasse Tyson: Brings science to “The Colbert Report.”

J. Craig Venter: I prefer to sample my microbes and proteins in day old peanut butter sandwiches.

Lisa Randall: I know about hidden dimensions. It’s inside the dryer and sucks down only one sock at a time. Sometimes they open up above my bed and leave a woman’s earring on my wife’s pillow. It’s science!

John Mather: He was never nicknamed “the Beaver.”

Elizabeth Blackburn: This woman works with ponds scum. I recommend her as the next manager of the New York Yankees.

Alan Stern: He’s in charge of NASA’s Science Mission. He’s the one hiding my jet pack!

Tullis Onstott: He finds organisms frozen in ice like Packer fans.

Svante Paabo: He’s in charge of evolutionary genetics. He’s making us all look like Elvis, like Mojo Nixon sang.

Steven Nissen: How can he be a big time doctor if he’s not pimping pills on TV?

Richard Dawkins: Never nicknamed “Chocolate Thunder.”

Chris Anderson: He came up with the idea that “Many of us see the same movies and read the same books because the bookstore can store only so many books and the movie theater can play only so many movies. There isn’t enough space to give us exactly what we want.” That why you have to put the DVDs in the binders and get rid of the plastic boxes. You can store more that way, Chris!

Paul Allen: They fixed his teeth in the drawing.

Monty Jones: Think he’s a fan of Monty Python?

Klaus Schwab: The man who banned me from Davos when I wanted to deal with the economy of dating Liz Taylor.

Nora Volkow: Tom Sizemore wrote her article. I didn’t recognize it since it didn’t feature him melting down mid-sentence and bitching about the prosecutor.

Frans de Waal: Does this primatologist have Lancelot Link Secret Chimp in his DVD player?

Douglas Melton: He works in stem cells. How come you never hear about petal cells?

Kari Stefansson: He believes “the more similar its members’ genetic profiles,” they have “the similar risk for certain diseases.” This explains why America still has bouts of Pac-Man Fever.

Richard Branson: Mark Cuban wrote the profile which is fitting since these two billionaires both hosted dud reality shows. Richard does have the better haircut. Maybe Mark should grow the Fu Manchu?

Cyril Ramaphosa: Remember when we had bold union leaders?

Erik Lie: What a great name for a lawyer. Eliot Spitzer writes that Lie “is the Mapquest for the SEC’s investigation.” Has Spitzer ever used Mapquest? The third to last direction is always bogus. What a recommendation.

Pony Ma: He created the “QQ” internet community in China. Thank goodness he didn’t go for “RR.”

Chad Hurley and Steve Chen: The makers of Youtube, the place that will let you break copyright, but gets ticked off if you show a little skin.

Katsuaki Wantanabe: When’s Michael Waltrip going to get into a race?

Bernard Arnault: Indie film guy Harvey Weinstein gushes about the head of Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton. It’s just wrong. Harvey should be talking about the folks that run Yuengling beer. Enough with the expensive French crap.

Clara Furse: Runs the London Stock Exchange, where the economy is based on exporting Benny Hill shows.

Ken Lewis: When the CEO of Bank of America drops by my house, I charge him a $5 service fee to use my toilet.

Lakshmi Mittal: Who needs steel when we have plastic!

Shigeru Miyamoto: He invented the wii controller that destroyed your flat screen TV. Who knew cyber-badminton would be such a costly sport?

Rhonda Byrne: She came up with “The Secret.” I’m wishing she’d deposit her checks in my bank account. Make come true!

Steven Cohen: How come you never hear about Shrub Funds?

Steve Jobs: Mr. Snake Oil. Sure he wants to get rid of copy-protection on downloaded songs, but he won’t let netflix use Safari on the Watch it Now feature. How come people in Japan don’t have a problem hooking their video iPods into TV sets to watch on the big screen?

Philip Rosedale: Who needs “Second Life?” I’m waiting for “Fifth Life” where I’m a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Ho Ching: See the rule about anyone in China.

Indra Nooyi: Ever since KFC (owned by Pepsico) dumped their lunch buffet, I refuse to eat there.

Stephen Schwarzman: Ever since the Blackstone Group bought BMG Music Service and Columbia House, I’ve stopped getting the 12 for 1 CD offers. He’s a bad influence.

Michael Moritz: He backed Yahoo and Google. Perhaps he’d like to invest in Snide.com? The search engine allows you to find rude and negative things about a topic. In a matter of seconds, you can write David Spade’s Showbiz Show.

##

DURHAM – The truth comes at you hard and heavy during the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival. After four days, it’s hard to adjust to faked entertainment. I might have to watch Gene Simmons’ Family Jewels to transition from real to scripted.

The major difference between a documentary and Indie film festival is a complete lack of ponytails. Unlike the Indie film directors that must be the center of attention, the documentarian is a quiet sort of person. They silently observe in order to capture the reality of their subject. This is what it must be like at a Marine sniper convention.

Full Frame is a festival for people who want to see movies and not chatter about the latest hot deals. Seeing how this is Durham, there’s no visit from Paris Hilton, Eddie Murphy and Mariah Carey searching for swag bags on Ninth Street. Nobody hits the slopes of Chapel Hill during the day. It’s all about movies and a few panels. And you have to pick carefully since they show five different films at once and the only ones that get a second play are the award winners.

This year’s festival did feature quite a few no-shows. The big disappointment was Larry Flynt canceling his personal appearance to promote Larry Flynt: The Right to be Left Alone. He caught a cold and couldn’t travel. The Party Favors was supposed to have an interview with him. Sorry folks, but I didn’t get to ask him about helping Courtney Love get into character.

Scorsese was preparing for Cannes, although he did write the introduction to a screening of Harvest 3000 Years. Albert Maysles, who seemed to always show up, wasn’t hanging out by the water fountain. And Sheila Nevins of HBO didn’t make it down for her panel discussion. I was hoping to pitch her a documentary on Isabella Soprano’s fetish career called Isabella Underwraps. Damn it!

Mystery writer Walter Mosley presented a special screening of Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man. I’m not too big of a fan of the film since I want a definitive documentary about Leonard and not merely a tribute concert strung together with an interview. Mosley’s notes to the film point out that he doesn’t like Cohen. “He seemed aloof and bitter to me. There was an arrogance to his demeanor,” wrote Mosely. I’ve never felt this way about Cohen. The day that I spoke with Cohen, he was like that distant uncle that you only met at your grandfather’s funeral. We would never be constant kin, but he made sure that in that moment, we would feel related. Another person that gave off that feeling was Kurt Vonnegut. In 1989, I was his tour guide when he came to speak at NC State. For two days I was by his side. He even drew an asshole when he signed my copy of Bluebeard. A nice moment was getting to introduce him to my mother – since it was my mother’s copy of Breakfast of Champions that got me started in reading his novels. He passed away the day before the festival. I removed his obit from an abandoned New York Times in the press room. Luckily we still have Leonard with us – he won’t be able to die till he sorts out his money issues.

Before the screening, I asked Mosely if he had seen Leonard performing “Who By Fire” with Sonny Rollins. He hadn’t. This is a shame. If you’re going to talk about a musician to a crowd, you should hunt down one of their glorious moments. Tthe song from David Sanborn’s old NBC show is on Youtube. Leonard had fond memories of the performance. As a viewer, it’s a religious experience and better than anything in the film – except for the part with Anthony covering “If It Be Your Will.” How come they don’t have Leonard Cohen night on American Idol or is that part of Canadian Idol? Does French Idol force those kiddies to bust out the Serge Gainsbourg songbook?

The best documentary I saw at the festival was The Dentist From New Jersey, a short 22 minute piece about a dentist from New Jersey. Luckily filmmaker John Knapich didn’t focus on Simon Leventhal’s root canal work. Instead this film illustrates Simon’s photography. His favorite subject was the World Trade Center towers. For decades, he would take photographs of the Twin Towers from across the river. He’d go down nearly three times a week. Whenever the sky looked interesting, he’d drive over to capture the moment. His photos brought out the beauty and gave a personality to those huge buildings that we lost six years ago. You can find out if a smart cable channel picks up the film by visiting Dentistfromnj.blogspot.com.

Tony Kaye’s Lake of Fire is an unflinching journey into the abortion debate. He gives each side proper time to make their arguments. He also spends a lot of time exploring the men who killed abortionists. The film’s big finale follows a woman into a clinic and shows us the whole procedure. Luckily the film is in black and white because if there was color, probably half of the audience would have bolted the theater. While it was impressive in its scope and exploration, Kaye’s camerawork is way too professional. He frames and lights people as if they were in his commercial campaigns. There were a few moments that felt recreated (such as a protest in front of an LA clinic), but it might just be his talent overwhelmed the reality. Tony didn’t show up so there was no chance to ask about his techniques.

The Last Days of Yasser Arafat dealt with Sherine Salama camping out at the devastated presidential compound in an attempt to land an on-camera interview with the terrorist turned leader of Palestine. She spent nearly a year working every angle to finally get into Arafat’s office to ask a few People Magazine style questions. What makes this film essential viewing is a sense of the space that the leader was confined inside. You get really familiar with the compound. I can direct you to the bathrooms. Plus there’s incredible footage of Arafat’s farewell and his body’s return. This is a “You Are There” documentary.

Tootie’s Last Suit features the colorful tribes that are part of Mardi Gras. While I knew how much work went into those intricate suits, I didn’t know that they made new suits each year. A few of the folks from the film showed up to demonstrate their drums and dancing. After the performance I briefly chatted with them. The word from New Orleans isn’t too promising. Seems like the money for rebuilding flowed quickly for the Superdome, the Hornets and convention center action. But where people actually live, there’s still trailer parks within the devastation. The rents have tripled. The folks who used to work in the convention business can no longer afford to live near New Orleans. None of the guys could see New Orleans returning to normal within the decade. They also saw the Urban Land Institute as a front for vulture land developers who care little for the real people of a city.

Because of a scheduling conflict, I missed out on Crazy Love. Dan Klores and Fisher Stevens (yup, it’s Ben Jabituya from Short Circuit) directed this movie about a lawyer’s longtime mistress. Magnolia films will have this out in June. I was hoping the film would win an award so I could catch the repeat. But the major honors went to The Monastery and War/Dance.

Even though I couldn’t see everything, you didn’t hear people bad mouthing films that they saw. People were frustrated at having to make a choice, but people enjoyed praising the films. Once again the folks at Full Frame have proven they’re at the top of the documentary film festival circuit. Judging from my talk with a guy who acquires films for Netflix’s Red Envelope division, a lot of the films shown will be available for your queue within a year.

HOW MUCH?

During a panel discussion on making money in documentary films, a really disturbing fact came to light. When they were editing The Comedians of Comedy, there was a moment where Brian Posehn’s cellphone went off. The ringtone was Missy Elliott’s “Get Your Freak On.” When they tried to get clearance to use the short ringtone, they were quoted the price of $50,000.

What?

Now you can understand why songs are being yanked off TV show boxsets. A few seconds of a ringtone probably cost more than the entire project. The filmmakers decided to just snip away the moment rather than pay the ransom.

BROKEN SPOOKS

The Ghost Busters have finally come to DVD. Not the Bill Murray movie. But the original Ghost Busters featuring Larry Storch, Forrest Tucker and Tracy the Gorilla. BCI has put all 15 episodes of the series on 2 DVDs.

The show aired on Saturdays in 1975. Unlike most memories of ’70s kid shows, my remembrance does not involve a groggy head, a bowl of Crunch Berries and shag carpeting. The Ghost Busters didn’t air until nearly noon. Seems like I watched this show while waiting for my turn at the Ft. Bragg barbershop. A crummy TV set perched next to those jars of blue goo soaking combs had the trio racing through the various doors in a haunted house. Tracy the Gorilla was a good distraction from the buzzcut butchery to come. Watching these episodes gave me flashbacks of barbers running that buzzer around my ears. Ouch!

The show was like a haiku in narrative structure with its limited sets. On a soundstage they had the Busters’ office, a cemetery and the main hall of a haunted house. They used an exterior location for the store where they played off Mission: Impossible‘s tape recorded mission moment. Except this time the tapes were more comical when they self-destructed.

Tucker and Storch are comic gold as they hunt down the ghosts and monsters that have taken refuge in the haunted house. No matter how cornball the scripts got, the duo still crack me up. They brought their F Troop magic to this low budget Filmation series. The second (and final) season of F Troop comes out May 29. The guest ghosts include Billy Barty, Bernie Kopell, Ted Knight, Lenny Weinrib (the man inside H.R. Pufnstuf) and Howard Morris (Ernest T. Bass from The Andy Griffith Show).

There’s a few bonus features including an interview with Bob Burns, the “trainer” to Tracy. He shares great stories about working with Storch and Tucker. Also they have the old commercial break bumpers. They threw in the first episode of the animated version of the series which came out after Bill Murray’s Ghostbusters became a sensation.

Deepdiscount has the set going for $16.46. It’s the perfect show to watch while detoxing on a Saturday afternoon. Just don’t sneak behind me with a pair of electric clippers. I don’t want to have an army haircut flashback.

BIGGEST SKANK

What exactly is that lucky gal winning on Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll? They beef up this act as an American version of The Spice Girls. But besides lead singer Nicole Scherzinger, the other five “members” seem more like Janet Jackson’s back up dancers. They don’t even come close to the aura of Sporty Spice. The other five dolls don’t even rate a last name. What sort of prize involves you losing your last name?

How do the other five non-surname dolls feel knowing that they’re a reality show away from getting their jiggling asses booted off the road?

Why do they bother forcing the contestants to sing on key? Are we supposed to believe that the real Pussycat Dolls don’t have Autotune patched into their microphones? All that really matters is that you look skanky enough when slapping your ass during the chorus.

What sort of commitment does Nicole have to the Pussycat Doll organization? She’s pretty much as good as a solo artist. Do they have a Simon Fuller contract binding her to PCD until McNamara/Troy can’t keep her looking 24?

Do the losing performers get recruited for Vivid Video’s How Bad Do You Want to Stay In Hollywood, Little Girl? reality show? Not like those failed Dolls don’t have the wardrobe and heels to win Best Newcomer at the AVNs.

The only gig in music that could give you even more anonymous career than being the seventh Pussycat Doll is The Search for the New Banana Splits. You think you can slide inside Bingo’s fur?

It was an anti-climax when the winning girl got to “perform” with the Pussycat Dolls since she just faded into the rest of the one name girls while Nicole dominated the performance. This would be like the winner of American Idol being forced to mow Simon’s lawn. At least she can feel like a winner while staring at Nicole’s ass.

HE’S DEAD, JIM

What’s the point of the Pulitzer Prize Putzs honoring John Coltrane? He gets a citation for his “masterful improvisation.” Wow. Talk about a risky honor since Coltrane has been dead for nearly 40 years. Last year would have been way too soon to give Coltrane a Pulitzer. That award might have gone straight to his head.

This seems to be another way that the creepy Pulitzer folks want to rewrite their history. Now Coltrane’s bio will talk about him getting a Pulitzer even though the judges didn’t give a crap about his “masterful improvisation” when he was breathing oxygen into his sax.

Maybe next year they can give an award to William Shakespeare. Do you think he’s more than a flash in the pan, Pulitzer Prizers? You can give him a citation for inspiring so many great movies like Stop Or My Mom Will Shoot and Fantastic Four (both are based off Hamlet). How about Plato or is he still iffy?

WHAT’D I SAY?

Here’s what I don’t get about the whole Don Imus ugliness; how exactly did people know what he said? Imus sounds like a stroke victim choking on marbles. Isn’t there a chance he really said, “Nibblets Flavored Oreos?” Which would still probably be a nasty thing to call people.

The worst thing he did was go on Al Sharpton’s radio show. What’s the point of trying to give an extended apology to people who want you fired? The slightest word will be received as a slight. He got nailed when he said, “You people” to Al and a Congresswoman. My father used to yell that at the family when we weren’t ready to get in the car. Does this mean my dad was racial bashing us? When will Al Sharpton picket in front of my dad’s house? I want justice and face time on Larry King!

If you want to make fast money, sell pitchforks and torches with the Fox News logo. This is a growth industry as each week we find a new celebrity to chase based on their faux pas. Remember when you had to spew about an hour’s worth of hatred before people really suspected you had improper thoughts?

And Alec Baldwin needs to take a few lessons from my father about how to explode on the phone.

SHEPPING IT

Anyone else distracted by the new graphics on Studio B with Shepard Smith on Fox News? They have this rotating gold circle with a purple “B” inside. It looks like Shep is hosting the Kobe Bryant show. Is this part of Fox News’ way to attract a demographic that is dazzled by shiny spinning objects?

DUMP THE NAME

As CourtTV announces that it’ll be rebranded shortly, what exactly is keeping MSNBC’s moniker? If that channel really expects to get old people to flip over, they need to trash the link to Bill Gates. First off, it takes too damn long to say. CNN and Fox News fling out of your mouth like a bullet. MSNBC is like a test word the doctor gives to see if your tongue works properly. It sounds like you only tune in to find out the latest glitch in your Windows Vista. The MS does very little for me. Give it back to Gloria Steinem. What is holding up the boys in marketing from giving this news channel a real name. How about NBC Newz. The “z” will give it the youth appeal lacking from CNN and Fox News. Even calling it Peacock News would be an upgrade.

Why does ESPN Deportes give us updates on ESPN with Spanish speaking commentators speaking extra fast in English? I can’t understand what they are saying. Just say it in Spanish and give me subtitles. It’s as bad dealing with the call center folks in India. Why do American corporations keep hiring non-English speaking people to deal with those of us who speak English? It’s bad enough that I’m trying to hear over a phone line that’s going halfway around the world. But then I have translate through an accent that has no business speaking to me in a conversation that shouldn’t go beyond me pointing at items. Why is Dell turning me into Archie Bunker? Why does Travelocity want me to hate Indians? If press 1 to continue my call in English, I want to be able to use conversational English instead of translator skills. It’s called Customer Service. Service me, Citibank!

LOST IN TRANSLATION 2

I’m not against people who don’t speak English as a primary language. Indeed my recent gig involved being the local support for a Japanese video crew. It was like a reverse Bill Murray moment as I stood a head taller than my employers. The nice part was that the director and the cameraman spoke exclusively in Japanese. This allowed me to just sit back and watch. There was zero chance of me making any suggestions unless directly addressed in English. It’s a good feeling to know that I can’t help them until they ask.

During my chats with them I discovered that Takeshi’s Castle, the series that’s redubbed as Most Extreme Elimination Challenge on Spike TV is 20 years old. Did I feel like a dork asking if the show was still on. It would have been like them asking me about new episodes of A Team or Manimal. But it did lead to interesting talks about Takeshi “Beat” Kitano – called Vic Romano on MXC.

They were impressed that my favorite Japanese baseball team was The Nippon Ham Fighters (current Japan Series Champs). How can you not root for a team that understands that pork products must be beaten down before they take over the world?

The best part of the trip was taking my six Japanese pals to Raleigh’s premiere dining establishment, The Underground. They covered our table with plates. Chef Daniel Taylor’s crispy softshell crab benedict was a transpacific success story. I can’t speak five words of Japanese, but the international language for a great meal is silence punctuated by chewing, slurping and pleasant moans.

While giving the crew a tour of Raleigh, they were amazed by our giant acorn statue. If you ever come to the City of Oaks, you must worship in front of the giant acorn. Then get a hot glazed donut at the nearby Krispy Kreme. Raleigh is a town of religious experiences.

OFF WITH HER HEAD

Speaking of Sophia Coppola, my wife hated the ending of Marie Antoinette. Why? Because The final reel stopped without Kirsten Dunst getting her head lopped off by the Guillotine. How can you make a film about Marie that doesn’t have the blade come down? And don’t go “you need to put a Spoiler Alert” on this. Anyone who wasn’t stoned during World History class knows what happens to the Queen of France. To not have her head bounce into a basket is like having a Catherine the Great movie that avoids the horsey love.

WHO WE WANT IN 2008

This column is throwing its support behind the presidential ticket of Ben Gazzara and Robert Loggia.

Does Willard Scott feel sad when he reads about someone dying at 99? It’s another name that won’t be on the Smuckers jar.

How many of Russell Simmons’s “Do You!: 12 Laws to Access the Power in You to Achieve Happiness and Success” involve divorce law?

WHAT COURTESY?

During a report about how Fergie from the Black Eye Peas had her first big role in Monster in The Closet, the guys at E! showed a clip from the film. In the top right corner of the frame was “Courtesy of Youtube.” Who is running the style book at that channel? It’s good that the channel sourced that they downloaded the footage from Youtube, but that website had no permission to actually host the movie. Troma was the company that should have been given a “Courtesy of…” credit. The folks at E! owe Troma a major apology. Instead of telling people that the DVD of Monster in the Closet can be bought, they tipped off folks that they can just visit Youtube and watch the film for free. Would the folks at E! be pleased if Entertainment Tonight ran a clip from the upcoming season of The Simple Life and claimed “Courtesy of Youtube?”

FLIPPED OFF

I recently discovered Flip This House and Flip That House are different shows. Were these two shows based off the English series Flip This House? If you want to get on one of these shows, tell the producers that you have won’t waste money on a home inspection before you buy the property. That insures a certain disaster site that TV producers love to document.

Is there anything you can do to a house that won’t add value beyond the expense? How much does a glory hole add to your guest bathroom? Wouldn’t you be better off buying a dump and putting in your own upgrades? You can always put your own new roof on a house. Are these shows “crack” for viewers who see the concept of buying a house, working on it for three weeks and scoring a $100,000 payday is just a dump away?

When is someone going to do a spouse swap show that also involves remodeling? Call it Dad ‘N Hammer. Imagine the joy in the eyes of young children when a nutjob with a toolbox shows up at the front door. It’ll be comedy gold when the dads return to their families and check out the “improvements” at their homes. What dad wants to know that all the projects he swore over the years that he’d finish were done by another man?

OLD NOSTI

Why is it when I get dragged into Old Navy, they never seem to play Beth Orton? Where’s “Stolen Car” when sifting through ringed t-shirts? One time they played Husker Du’s “Could You Be The One.” Looking around at the shoppers eager to find that perfect pair of cords, it was easy to surmise that nobody else was getting pangs of nostalgia. What’s to do when you miss the Du?

Do you think Beth Orton is jealous about my Leslie Feist crush? Feist’s new album The Reminder is due out May 1. The airport moving sidewalk video for “My Moon My Man” has inspired me to buy the CD when it comes out. I’m sorry that I’m unfaithful cad, Beth, but Feist called my name.

TRIBECA – A movie that lists me as the Associate Producer is making the festival rounds. On April 14, Moving Midway will be playing the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival in Durham, N.C.

I beg you fine citizens of Durham to not throw flowers at the screen when my name appears in the credits. It is hard to resist wanting to launch a bouquet of roses during such a beautiful moment. But I don’t want to make the rest of the filmmakers jealous at the love being shown just to me. Although polite applause is appreciated.

The other highlights of Full Frame should include D.A. Pennebaker showing Bob Dylan: 65: Revisited, Gonzo: The Life and Death of Hunter S. Thompson and the return of Martin Scorsese. Nothing tops the chance to chat with Albert Maysles. He has a few stories to share about Gimme Shelter. How close can you get to Hell’s Angel with a pool cue? Did Keith have his original blood that tour? Weren’t the Stones a better live act with Mick Taylor on guitar?

If you’re not in Durham and want to experience my name on the screen, pick up Shortbus. My name is listed with the Shortbusriders. I didn’t have anything to do with the production. Nor have I had any contact with director (and fellow army brat) John Cameron Mitchell.  This tribute to myself came from visiting the website. Don’t think you can spot me in the orgy room. That’s just an internet rumor. While there are no true small roles in films, if they aren’t shot in Cinemascope, my blossoming talent won’t fit. And in the privacy of your living room, feel free to throw flowers at my name.

WHERE’S PART 2?

Grindhouse is upon us. After all the hype and hysteria and dark tales from the ratings board, we’ll finally get to see what happens when Rodriguez and Tarantino team up for the fourth time.

But the troubling aspect of this project is that there’s no Grindhouse 2 in post-production eager to hit the theaters in late summer. How can Harvey and Bob hold back on greenlighting this into an instant series? Are they still stinging from Alien Love Triangle? Judging from the amount of crap that they’ve been dumping as exclusive rentals at Blockbuster, the brothers W need to crank out more than Prey 2. They need to start using the Grindhouse as a way to bring life back to escapist trash.

My suggestion is the follow up be done is a deep fried double feature follow up. The first film would pay tribute to the Legend of Boggy Creek series. Tribute might be too kind of a word. Those movies were the absolute pits for thrills and scares. If you have any fond memories of these movies, it better be because you got laid in the back of the station wagon while these borefests ruled the Drive-in.  My movie, Swamp Gas would be the more improved take on the swamp creature flicks. Three college kids are heading down to Florida for spring break when they take a detour to visit a roadside attraction dedicated to the Scubra, a half man, half nutria monster that supposedly roamed the nearby swamp. The boys continue on their way to spring break, but being a trio of losers decide to ditch being teased by drunk coed girls and return to the swamp. They want to have an adventure. They even hire a hot “Poke Salad Annie” gal to be their guide into the muck.  But things go insane when the boys discover various dark secrets about the Scubra. There’s scene where the Scubra attacks a Maxim shoot. Lots of muddy bikinis across the screen.

The second feature pays tribute to the greatest cine-trash genre: Women in jail. But not merely any jail, but a skanky, sweaty Southern jail. A sweet innocent girl on a bus trip out to see grandma gets stuck in a small Mayberry-esque town. She ends up getting lured into trouble by what she through was a fellow nice girl. She gets sentenced to the county work farm. Turns out that work on the farm isn’t meant to rehabilitate. It’s to sustain the local vice markets. No need to spell out too much of the plot other than group showers and cavity searches that will look even hotter on the DVD’s unrated cut. I want to make a women’s prison film that will harden Jess Franco’s nipples.

Don’t come see this doubleheader without a tanktop and a bottle of water. Cause the humidity is going to drip off the screen. And unlike Black Snake Moan these films will be Justin Timberlake-free!

NO LOVE

It would be nice if the Grindhouse guys would tip their hats a little bit more openly to Michael J. Weldon and his Psychotronic empire. For over 20 years, his Psychotronic Encyclopedia has been a sacred text for fans of cinema that doesn’t get shown during Oscar montages.

UNDERSTAND A PHRASE

When a sporting event claims to be “The Superbowl of….” that means the pre-game show lasts longer than the actual event.

LOOK AT US… A

This American Life on Showtime is captivating time on my TV. The show is kinda like a Errol Morris documentary except Ira Glass does the voiceover and there’s less talking straight to the camera. Maybe this show isn’t like an Errol Morris movie. Either way the show does a good job illustrating the tales previously told on NPR radio stations. The cloned bull has been my favorite episode – especially since it has scrotum damage. Ouch!!!

Ira Glass does come off as Mo Rocca’s cousin. These two need to take part in that Doppelganger project.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell the story of Anna and Ana to Ira. But I don’t know if America is ready for such a heartbreaking tale of summer weirdness.

COURT TV IS OUT OF ORDER

After attacking Court TV for running shows about lifeguards instead of trials, the channel has responded. By the end of the year, Court TV will be rebranded in order to “reflect” its new demographic. They want to attract a group called “real engagers” who enjoy watching “real-life stories and true characters.” Remember when a “real engager” was Johnny Depp as he tossed out rings to Winona Ryder and Sherilyn Fenn?

Basically the lack of a true freakish high profile court case and the rise of other channels that are willing to burn airtime on the celeb trials has destroyed Court TV’s audience. How many channels had live coverage of the Anna Nicole Smith corpse grab fiasco?

No word on what the folks at Time-Warner will call the “real engager” channel. My guess is Scalez! Cause that reflects the justice programming and yet is hip and now with that “z.” Or maybe Juztice TV.

REMEMBER WHEN HE WAS ANGRY?

Why is it disheartening to see Ice Cube in the Are We Done Yet? ads? Remember when he was a bad ass from Compton giving us the hood report? Remember when he joined Public Enemy on “Burn Hollywood Burn?” Ice Cube is now roasting in a film that screams, “Steve Martin was too busy to squirt this turd!”

SUGAR COATED LIES

Anyone else swallowing the study that kids today are being bombarded by ads for bad foods which is why they are fat? What? I’m shocked that kiddie TV programming is filled with ads for junk food. Why this has to be the first time in our nation’s history that this has happened.

Heaven forbid that the generation that contributed to this report remember that they were raised on sugar coated commercials. Does anyone recall how every cereal in the late ’60s was coated with “badness.” They didn’t merely have Sugar Crisp. That bear sold us Super Sugar Crisp.  Sugar Corn Pops, Sugar Smacks and Sugar Frosted Flakes were on the shelf. Visit theimaginaryworld.com/cbarch.html to see that today’s supermarket shelves are tame compared to the breakfast diet of decades ago. Fast Food ads have changed. Ronald McDonald pushes milk and apple slices to the active kiddies. There was no healthy foods being harvested in the old McDonaldland ads. And remember that the Grimace was evil back then. Junk foods sponsoring TV isn’t something that was launched while you pumped out your baby. Remember the Frito Bandito? He wasn’t stealing carrot sticks.

What’s sad is that these self-righteous scientists want to blame “junk food” for your kids, but they don’t seem to want to attack the “healthy food” that’s probably turning Junior into a blimp: corn. Check the labels and see how much of your drinks and foods contain corn syrup. When you were a kid, your soda didn’t have corn syrup. But now you’re sucking up corn like a heifer waiting for the first semi to the slaughterhouse. But where’s the publicity in attacking corn? Slinging mud at Spongebob gets you a few minutes with Katie Couric.

You know why your kids are fat? Because it’s not safe to let them outside. Fox News declares that rapists are lurking just outside your front porch ready to nab your child. If you let them play sports, odds are that a violent, drunk father will charge the wrestling mat and attack your kid. Dateline has let us know that it’s not safe to even let the kids go on the internet. What’s must you do to keep them safe? Put them on their asses in front of a TV set. If you want to avoid them from getting the “gimmes” for bad stuff, pick up DVDs of kid shows you enjoyed all those decades ago. There will be no marathon of ads interrupting H.R. Pufnsuf. If you want to keep your kids skinny, feed them gruel. It’s the secret of keeping a trim Oliver Twist shape.

What did happen to a generation that devoured Tutti-Fruiti Flavored Twinkles cereal? Where’s the science on them?

NEWS STUD FANTASIES

Did you know that the fastest growing fetish fiction involves Dateline reporter Chris Hansen? A lot of creepy folks are now sharing their daydreams about sneaking into a strange kitchen and discovering Chris Hansen. Most of the predator wannabes confess that they weren’t looking for a 13 year old girl that had emailed them on the internet. They knew that the fingers on the keys belonged to Hansen. Within a few minutes, the ties are off and they’re pouring Wesson oil all over their bodies and doing stuff that would upset Florence Henderson.

According to a news release from Glick University, Chris Hansen oriented homo-erotic fan fiction has passed Kirk and Spock beaming down each other.  Sources within NBC hint that Stone Phillips is jealous of Hansen’s lusty following.

STABLE BOY JR. SPEAKS

Here’s the lock pick for the Kentucky Derby: Bet on Scat Daddy to show – cause it just sounds dirty. Besides winning the Florida Derby, Scat Daddy was the biggest selling DVD of 2004 in Berlin. If only there were horses named Watersports Wonder and Cleveland Steamer, I’d have my Trifecta.

DORKS FROM THE EAST

Why is a marathon of Most Extreme Elimination Challenge the greatest way to zone out on a lazy evening? All my life, the teachers and pundits would ramble on about how smart the Japanese were. How they were so much better at math. How they were going to kick our lame American educated asses. But watching these hordes of Japanese folks get beaten senseless on a gameshow makes me feel just a little bit superior.

The episode where the contestants tried to compete in rubber monster outfits is my favorite. I nearly stopped breathing when the guy dressed as totem pole attempted to hop across a pond on rocks. Also the final challenge involved a group of Ultramen tossing boulders down a hill at the contestants. After a MXC marathon, I don’t need to completely fear the Japanese. I know that they can be stopped by having them charge head first through a locked door.

PREDICTION FOR RICKY

Now that Extras has wrapped up, what’s the next series for Ricky Gervais? I have a vision that he’ll create a show about a guy who does weekend road rallies in his Mini Cooper. It’ll focus on his dream of one day being able to actually finish a race. The comedy comes from his rivalry with his mother who actually wins on the circuit.

ATLANTA – Do you want to contribute to a organization that will offset your carbon footprint? Do you want to feel like you’re doing something good for the environment while you scoot around the globe on your Lear Jet? Do you want to do this by merely scribbling a lot of ones and zeros on a check to clear your conscious?

Don’t think contributing to a wind farm or a solar panel park is going to scrub your soul from the greenhouse effect. Instead you need to send me that check because I’m an offsetting machine. I don’t do too much to be a carbon monster. I work out of my house so I’m not wasting four hours commuting. I do a lot of shopping online so I don’t even burn that much energy going to the mall. My wife complains that I keep the house too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. I’m your conservation companion. Your money will be going to the best cause in the world – me!

If you sent me over $100,000, I’ll make sure we plant lots of flowers in our three square feet of front lawn. Did you know that a single daisy can reduce the damage caused to the atmosphere by Donald Trump’s methane emissions? The more money you send me, the less I’ll do. I’ll even only exhale half as much. Every little CO cutback counts. If Bill Gates wants to send me $10 million to offset the damage he caused by promoting Vista, I promise to stay in my house an entire week (but not on consecutive days).

You have to send cash because a check means I’ll have to go to the bank and that’ll work against my tiny carbon footprint. Wait, cash would be bad since I’d only want it in twenties and that’s a lot of trees that need to be shredded to create those sweet bills. Best thing to do is send me a gift cards to various stores. Yup. So drop by Target and get me a $10 million gift card, Paul Allen.

Any money raised over the $10 million will be donated to the fund to stop Angelina Jolie from adopting children. Why exactly does this woman really need that many kids to drag through airports? How many arms does Brad Pitt have for baby holding? This is not a low profile family. Each kid gets brazenly exposed to the harsh world of the tabloids. They’re hunted by hundreds of filthy animals with telephoto lenses. Imagine going from a small Vietnamese orphanage to the cover of US Weekly? It’s just not healthy. I feel bad for Shiloh Jolie-Pitt (or is it Pitt-Jolie) since with the latest addition to the family, she’s stuck with another older sibling. Who wants to wake up and discover the new kid has leapfrogged you in the “hand me down” rankings.

STARLITE MEMORIAL

It is with a sad heart that the Party Favors announces the passing of Bob Groves (1952 – 2007). You might not know him, but if you’re a regular reader, you’ll recall the praise heaped upon the Starlite Drive In Theater in Durham, N.C. Bob owned and ran this wonderful place. Last summer I pledged to only see films at the Starlite instead of the major chains. I wanted more than the antiseptic people moving experience of Carmike. The Starlite was joyfully rough and tumble. The asphalt was potholed. Bathrooms were extra cramped. During the day, the place was a gun shop. He had a sign declaring that he wouldn’t sell weapons while the movies were running. Perhaps this was to insure nobody got shot for putting their had in the wrong popcorn bucket. This was an authentic drive in experience and not a Crackerbarrel recreation.

The bliss arrived in the concession stand line when you bit into the hamburgers. It was fresh ground beef – not frozen patties – that they slapped on the grills. Mmmmmmm. When was the last time you looked forward to having dinner at the movie theater? Bob was a great host. And he was always there so I could ask him what was coming up. Last summer there was one film that I had to see at the Starlite: Snakes on a Plane! And he booked it. While Samuel L. Jackson battled the reptiles on the screen, in the sky above we saw passenger jets on their way to nearby RDU International. It was poetic. And a cherished theater going memory.

I found out about Bob’s passing when checking the theater’s website to see if he was running Grindhouse. That double feature screamed Starlite. To see Rose McGowan’s machine gun gam through the steamed up windows….  The extra sad news is that Bob was the sole owner and operator so the fate of the Drive In is up in the air. Hopefully a fan with more spending cash than me will continue Bob’s good work in the community. Although if I get the $10 million “carbon” cash, I’ll be willing to buy the place. Are Drive-in theaters considered “green friendly?” We aren’t wasting energy to heat and cool a large indoor space.

I will miss Bob Groves. Years from now, people will brag about how they saw movies at the Starlite instead of the multiplex. Here’s hoping that Bob has pulled into heaven’s Drive In and is sharing a corndogs and onion rings with Sam Arkoff and Claudia Jennings.

If you want to know more about Bob Groves, visit: http://www.saveourstarlite.org/index.html.

THE CURE TO WHAT?

Anyone else disturbed that The Secret DVD has a woman claiming that she cured her cancer by watching funny movies? What? David Spade and Rob Schneider can cure cancer? Can the secret in ending this horrible disease lurk in the frames of Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo? She doesn’t even give a complete list of every movie she watched to defy death. That’s just wrong. It’s a frickin’ tease. What does a better job: Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Larry the Cable Guy as The Health Inspector? Can Woody Allen’s Stardust Memory fight back the mutation better than Radio Days?

Does it just have to be a movie? What about reading funny columns on the internet? Can the “Party Favors” cure cancer under The Secret‘s treatment plan? I bet this column could cure cancer better than a dozen screenings of Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights.

DON’T LOOK AT ME

Why is Dennis Hopper telling me about retiring? Here’s a guy who over the years has probably shaved years off peoples’ lives. Do you think anyone survived hanging with Dennis and matching him on drug intake during production on The Last Movie? I don’t think those folks need a retirement plan so much as a treatment for coma recovery.

If anything Dennis Hopper should just be telling us, “How the hell did I live this long?”

Nothing makes those anti-drug PSAs look foolish than Dennis Hopper making commercials. How exactly can we see drugs as leading us to the road to ruins when Dennis Hopper is now in charge of your retirement dreams?

What was the Drug Czar smoking when he signed off on the animated ad with the guy who smokes pot and ignores his talking dog. If your dog talks, you are smoking more than just pot. And if I read the PSA right, this guy could listen to his talking dog if he quit toking? Back way from the bong, Drug Czar.

WHO NEEDS RADIO?

Why are commercials better for discovering music than the radio? I’ve grown addicted to the bouncy ditty behind the HSBC – or is it HBSC? – ad. I don’t even know what this company is called or does because I’m hypnotized by the woman singing. And that woman is Leslie Feist. The band is Feist. And the song is “Gatekeeper” off their Let It Die album. Although I’ve been told the version in the ad is from Open Season, a remix CD. She’s got the swankiest guitar riffs since Max Eider’s Best Kisser In The World. She’s got a voice that should be serenading James Bond during his seduction scene.

Speaking of Bond, EON will be nuts if they don’t cast Ray Stevenson as either Bond’s cohort or foil in the next film. Stevenson is the reason I watch Rome on HBO. He’s got the best bloodlust expression on TV. When his Titus Pullo pulls out the sword, he has the look in his eye that would cause a stuntman to piss in his pants with fear that Ray’s going for the deathblow.

Ray has the same physicality to his performance that Daniel Craig’s delivered in Casino Royale. Even if Ray is the head henchman of the super-villain, when he tangles with Craig, the audience is going to think it’s an even battle on the screen.

CINEMAX AFTER LARK

How can a film called Kinky Kong on Cinemax not star Misty Mundae? And has anyone made a DVDA movie called The Four Riders of the Orifiocalypse?

LICK ‘EM, DANNO

Anyone else addicted to the first season boxset of Hawaii Five-O? Jack Lord storming around the islands with Danno, Chin Ho and Kono has been a constant scene on my TV. What gets me most about the show is the various guest stars. The best was Gavin MacLeod as Big Chicken. Who knew that Captain Stubbing and Murray Slaughter could be the creepiest guy in a tropical jail? The DVD’s clarity brings out the constant sweat covering his bald head. Wonder if Gavin had flashbacks to “The Box” episode when he guest starred on Oz? How would Jack Lord deal with a prison riot with Vern and Chris flipping a coin for his ass?

While watching the Five-Os, I kept having the overwhelming urge to see Jack Lord on a postage stamp. Actually there needs to be a set of TV crime fighters being offered for airmail. Besides Jack Lord, the set should include James Arness,  William Conrad, Raymond Burr, Dennis Weaver, George Peppard, Telly Savalas and Robert Stack.

Would you not want to stick these men onto your mail? You are probably wonder why there are no women in the list. A person has to be dead to appear on a stamp. Angie Dickinson, Angela Lansbury and Cagney and Lacey haven’t gone to the big booking room in the sky. Neither has Philip Michael Thomas, Richard Roundtree and Cheech Marin. But they can be kept in reserve for future, Great TV crimefighters stamps.

Please join me in my effort to get Jack Lord and other TV crimefighters on our stamps. You can write your plea to:

Citizens’ Stamp Advisory Committee
U.S. Postal Service
475 L’Enfant Plaza, SW
Room 4474EB
Washington, DC 20260-2437

Because of the self-adhesive nature of modern stamps, you won’t be able to lick McGarrett. He’s going to stick to your mail until its delivered.

GIMME THE ROCK

The Basketball Hall of Fame needs to induct Dick Vitale. The man has a passion for calling the game. You can say he’s as annoying as Howard Cosell, but Dickie V doesn’t hide beneath a rug. The man altered the way a sportscaster relates with the fans. Some guys play along with the crowd to make good television. Vitale absorbs the energy of the fans. He’s like a player who gets his second wind from the home crowd stomping out Queen’s “We Will Rock You.”

Because of the crypto-creepy voting method of the Basketball Hall of Fame, it’s hard to plead a case. The fact that Bobby Knight and other great coaches have written testimonials for Vitale should let these gatekeepers understand that Dick has elevated the game with his enthusiasm. Maybe they don’t want to vote him in for fear that Dick’s acceptance speech will go longer than Liz Taylor’s rambling moment at the Golden Globes. Dick needs to promise he’ll keep it down to six hours.

ROLL THE HALL

VH1Classic ran the raw live feed of this year’s Rock N Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for the first time. Who knew this event ran so long? It was like being stuck in the drive-thru lane at Taco Bell. These guys made the Oscars look speedy.

The saddest moment of the night was the induction of Van Halen. Why does the R&RHOF have a boner for Velvet Revolver? Instead of striking a deal for David Lee Roth to come out and rip apart “Jump,” we get these losers destroying “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love.” Scott Weiland needs to get back on the drugs cause he’s got the twitches. It was so f’n painful to watch. Why did the Hall have to screw us out of Diamond Dave? Did he want a flamethrower, Bridget the Midget and the Donkeyshow? Cause they should have given it to him. Last year Velvet Revolver stunk it up as they inducted the Sex Pistols and they brought them back? And their induction speech sounded like they copied it from the Wikipedia. Only Sammy and Michael Anthony showed up for the hardware. What was the point? Anthony didn’t even bring up his Jack Daniels bass. What should have been a great moment in debauchery turned into a lounge act for Sammy’s Cabo Wabo club.

R.E.M. should still be waiting three more years before getting voted into the club. But at least Eddie Vedder gave a real speech about the band and how they mattered to him. He reminded us what really attracted us to R.E.M. all those years ago – the basic fact that we hadn’t a clue what Michael Stipe was mumbling on Chronic Town. But during Stipe’s long winded list of thank yous, we heard every word. And amazingly enough one name skipped was Jefferson Holt, their old manager. He was the inspiration for the only R.E.M. line that I’m willing to quote: “Jefferson, I think we lost.” It was sweet that during their performance, they stuck to the old stuff and avoided any material that Warners pays $16 million per album to dump into the marketplace.

Patti Smith was a joy to behold on stage. She was so sweet when she talked about her mom’s favorite song and broke into “Rock N Roll Nigger.” That’s my mom’s favorite Patti Smith Group song. A shame on the Hall of Fame for not inducting the complete Patti Smith Group. Without Lenny Kaye, she’s getting into the Poetry Hall of Fame. Plus Lenny put together the Nuggets compilation that brought together the double album of the greatest garage rock of the ’60s. The Hall A-holes put Sammy Hagar into the Hall with Van Halen. Why no love for Lenny? At least R.E.M. and Patti got their jab on the weirdness of the Hall’s voters when they finished the night with the Stooges “I Wanna Be Your Dog.” Why no Iggy, Wennerdog?

Next year better be Todd Rundgren and Iggy Pop, jerks. And the next time I see Velvet Revolver at the ceremony, it better be part of the Groups that Suck and Broke Up montage.

BREAK THIS

Don’t rent National Lampoon’s Spring Break thinking it’s merely 70 minutes of dumb entertainment from the folks who brought you Pledge This and Van Wilder. Instead of just being a low budget dorkfest, it’s merely National Lampoon trying to do a sophisticated Girls Gone Wild. A majority of the  exposed breasts in this “documentary” about college kids getting wasted belong to playmate Nikki Ziering. It’s like she’s making an audition tape to take over Julie Strain’s hosting activities. Her boob job looks pretty painful. She really should get them adjusted. They looks like stale Jell-O domes.

Nikki’s boobs have nothing on the softballs inserts on the girl who lifts up her tanktop at the end of the video. They look like twin aliens punching through her chest. You’re never too young to become a plastic surgery disaster.

Most of the co-eds are just seen flaunting their butts in bikinis at National Lampoon sponsored pool parties. The DVD would be good for parents who need an excuse as to why they’re not handing over the AmEx card so Princess can spend a week in Cabo. Do you really want to know how your daughter won that special t-shirt? Can you handle the sight of her popping balloons by dropping onto a guy’s crotch?

Here’s a little warning – no matter how cute you think it is, after a body shot, do not have the girl squirt the lime onto your eyeballs.

OUCH!

Another thing you shouldn’t squirt onto your eyeballs is Tim and Eric’s Awesome Show, Great Job. This is Wonder ShowZen for people who have to copy their mom’s answers when filling out customer surveys. I’m guessing the green screen effects qualifies it as animated enough for Adult Swim, but it’s dead boring. The good news is that this show has allowed Tom Goes to the Mayor to no longer be my least favorite Adult Swim series.

What’s extra sad watching the show is knowing that Bob Odenkirk is behind this project. What happened to Bob? He was great on The Ben Stiller Show. I even forgive him for introducing David Cross to America on Mr. Show since that HBO series was funny. But there is no excuse for Tim and Eric’s Awesome Show. Nobody is going to be cured of a split ends watching this show.

VICE IS NICE

If you drop by the estate over the next few weeks, you will be forced to watch Miami Vice since Best Buy is selling the seasons 3 & 4 boxsets for $50 total. Behold the power of Tubbs with a beard!

NASHVILLE – Amazing how the media has gone nuts about Al Gore’s power bill for his house. Sure it’s 10 times as big as a single family house. But I’m amazed that the media hasn’t gone that extra step in figuring out why Mr. Inconvenient Truth needs to suck that much current off the grid.

Around here, whenever a residence receives an electric bill that’s ten times more than the neighbors, the cops raid the place. Why? Because the “family” has a grow room operation in the basement. They’re privately harvesting marijuana, the devil’s weed, under the hot lights. Those bulbs burn serious wattage. Do you really think those indoor packages are sold for tomato purposes?

Why hasn’t the media (or Fox News) dared to ask the awful truth: How green is Al Gore? Is this the secret to Gore’s ability to swing with the showbiz superstars? How else can you explain why Leo wants to rub elbows with a nearly 60 year old out-of-office politician? Around here, it seems like whenever you find young kids hanging out with old guys, it’s cause they’ve got the best damn drugs in the town. Did Al provide goodie bags for the folks who drove the hybrids to the Kodak Theatre? Was Al responsible for Drew and Cameron’s smoking enjoyment on their recent beach trip? They’re greenies for Gore, right?

How can the Tennessee Center for Policy Research not insinuate the link between high power bills and growing dope with grow lights? It’s like linking large purchases of Sudafed with cooking up meth in a single-wide. Hasn’t Al Gore kept company with Woody Harrelson and Willie Nelson? Why would those two loose guys spend time with a stiffie like Gore? Maybe Al shares an experience with these famous hempheads that’s better than a PowerPoint presentation?

Remember when Al Gore said he invented the internet? How many stoned people have said really goofy things when high? Here’s a couple of classic things Gore has said in the past:

“I believe we are on an irreversible trend toward more freedom and democracy – but that could change.”

“It isn’t pollution that’s harming the environment. It’s the impurities in our air and water that are doing it.”

“Quite frankly, teachers are the only profession that teach our children.”

“[It’s] time for the human race to enter the solar system.”

“Welcome to President Clinton, Mrs. Clinton, and my fellow astronauts.”

Doesn’t that sound like someone who has had a couple tokes of the wacky weed? If President Clinton didn’t inhale, who did?

Will Fox News dare to conject that Al Gore’s mansion has all the suspicious qualities of a secret farm for the top cash crop in Tennessee? Why does Gore need all that security around the place? Is it to protect his Ed Begley Jr. autograph and complete Futurama DVD set? Or has Al Gore constructed a fortress of Tony Montana proportions to protect the source of his green empire? There’s enough facts in there to make it sound like the truth.

CATHOUSE FOLLOW UP

During last month’s interview with Dennis Hof, owner of the Bunny Ranch and star of HBO’s Cathouse, Dennis mentioned that his goal was to turn Starbucks into Bunny Ranch Expresses. His vision of the future sits on the shelf of your favorite videostore. Mike Judge’s Idiocracy features America in 500 years, where Starbucks gives out handjobs instead of muffins.

Dennis has been saying this for a while and the DVD of Idiocracy didn’t come out till Jan. 9. The movie made barely a blip theatrically when it was released in the fall. So Dennis wasn’t stealing Judge’s concept. This is a case of the Zeitgeist sweeping America. We all want to get a squeaky from the coffeeshop gal. Did you know that working your tongue around a barrista flesh will give you a caffeine rush? It’s true. Once I had a torrid affair with a coffeeshop girl and discovered that after a tryst, I was not ready to roll over and go to sleep. Her neck alone was the equivalent of a double shot of Espresso. One of my fond memories is how we had sex while watching Anna Nicole Smith on Howard Stern’s old E! show. While folks may say nasty things about Anna, I’ll remember our threesome as a passionate time – even if Anna was only participating via videotape.

SORRY FOR THE TYPO

Nobody wrote to correct me for spelling Darfur as “Dafur.” Thanks for not reading the column, Bill Gates.
MANN MISSES

Speaking of wacky, what exactly was Michael Mann huffing in the editing room when he spliced together his montage of “America As Seen In Movies” for the Oscar ceremony? I can excuse his obsession with the Klu Klux Klan musical number in O Brother, Where Art Thou?, but two of the clips are completely off base. First was Lucy Lui from the final battle of Kill Bill Part 1. The scene supposedly took place in Japan. What exactly does that have to do with America? The second “huh” clip was Timothy Carey talking about bugs in Paths of Glory. This is a film about French troops in World War I and was shot in West Germany. Sure the actors were American, but that wasn’t the point of the montage, Mann.

Why did you accept the assignment when you didn’t do the homework? Thanks for adding time to an already bloated program.

CONGRATULATIONS TO JACKIE EARLE HALEY

While Jackie Earle Haley didn’t win for Best Supporting Actor, he looked like a champion. Even when is name didn’t get called, he stuck around for the rest of the show. Unlike Eddie Murphy who reportedly had to leave early for a meeting over Daddy Daycare 2: Still Poopin’. When Marty finally got his Oscar glory, Jackie got up to give the man a standing ovation. Even during the E! red carpet show, Jackie was a joy to watch. Unlike Angelina Jolie, Jackie didn’t strike the “I’m too superior of a race to talk to you” pose with Ryan Seacrest on E! He gladly gabbed with Ryan and got a kick out of the fact that someone at E! located a clip of him from McGuyver. And Jackie was willing to publicly announce that he watches American Idol at home.

What does Jackie think of this year’s crop? There’s always laughter in my house when Ryan announces that coming up next is Sundance Head. Doesn’t that sound like the title of a film distributed by Strand Releasing?

The nice part is that Jackie saw Alan Arkin get the award and not Eddie Murphy. There seemed to once be a time when Rafferty and the Gold Dust Twins was constantly run on crummy afternoons. It was Beastmaster of the late ’70s. There was Alan stuck inside that car with Sally Kellerman and Mackenzie Phillips. I still can’t remember the plot so much as how they stole gas on their rambling trip.

THE FIX WAS IN?

When Marty’s name was finally called from the stage, he received his trophy from Coppola, Spielberg and Lucas. It was like a reunion of Margot Kidder’s old beach party pals. It was like a Dick Clark award show at that moment. What are the odds that this trio was going to welcome Paul Greengrass or Inarritu up the stairs? The producers of the Oscars needed their big highlight moment for the clip package and they got it.

Now that Marty has won Best Director, he no longer has the cool factor of being “The Greatest Living American Director to Have Never Won the Oscar.” Now he’s just another guy with hardware. Sometimes it’s the act of exclusion that allows your myth to build. Would Shoeless Joe Jackson be as popular a topic if he was forgiven and put inside the Hall of Fame?

The sad thought is that in 10 years, people will immediately watch The Departed thinking it has to be Scorsese’s greatest film. But is it? Is it better than Goodfellas, Raging Bull, Mean Streets or King of Comedy? Of the three Marty-Leo films, it’s the most entertaining. But as far as a major director finally winning, this is on par with Carol Reed winning his Oscar for Oliver!

HE WAS IN THAT, TOO?

Matt Ross is the Robert Pine of his generation. I took notice of Ross when he played Harry Dean Stanton’s creepy son on Big Love. Since the day he went into Salt Lake City to do the Prophet’s business, he keeps popping up in other shows and movies that I’ve watched over the years. He was the lucky dork in Last Days of Disco. He was a guard on Oz. And he was the creepy bisexual executive in American Psycho. Plus he was Leo’s pal in The Aviator. He’s the guy who has the new title of Matt “Wait, he was also in that….” Ross.

What’s the most amazing thing about his career is that he’s yet to appear on any of the Law and Order series. What are the odds that an actor from near New York City could avoid the mean streets of Dick Wolf? He has appeared on CSI: Miami. Maybe someday he’ll reunite with his Oz pals on Law and Order: SVU.

GREEN IS GONE

It was sad enough when Anheuser-Busch bought Rolling Rock and shut down green bottle operations and moved them out of Latrobe, Pennsylvania. But now the Madison Avenue suits have turned the green bottles into some sort of joke beer. What was this crap about men in thongs and a Super Bowl ad? I’m not sure cause I zoned out. And I refuse to click on the banner ads about this muck-vertising.

If Rolling Rock was a child, social services would have taken it away and the Busch family would be on Court TV.

HERE’S A RECORD

There are just too many lame records being broken in the name of the Guinness Book of World Records. Is 40,000 kids brushing their teeth really worth the ink? What about 8,000 people making snow angels? Was any seven year old dreaming of being one of 10,000 people doing the “Macarena” when they flipped through the pages in the elementary school library? These aren’t real records. Fattest twins to ride motorcycles is a record. Guy with longest fingernails is a record. Somebody needs to start telling folks, “It’s nice that folks showed up, but who really gives a crap?” Next time these goofballs want to bust a record, why not attempt the fastest time to eat a bicycle?

MAKE THIS MUSIC

Here are the ten songs I want to hear on American Idol

10. “Stupid Girl” by the Rolling Stones
9. “4’33″” by John Cage
8. “Teenage Enema Nurses In Bondage” by Killer Pussy
7. “Midnight at the Oasis” by Maria Muldaur
6. “Me So Horny” by 2 Live Crew
5. “Mahna Mahna” by the Muppets
4. “Trapped in the Closet” by R. Kelly
3. “Dick in the Dirt” by Sammy Hagar
2, “Ace of Spades” by Motorhead
1. “Pac-Man Fever” by Buckner and Garcia

There’s no guarantee that you’ll win the show, but you’ll capture America’s heart and an opening spot on Weird Al Yankovic’s next tour. How come there isn’t a Weird Al Idol? Imagine America glued to seeing our next novelty musical act discovered?

INVITE STILL OPEN

This is to remind former Steeler coach and new resident of Raleigh, Bill Cowher that my invitation for a night at Hooters is still open. After a night of wings and Yuengling, we’ll go over and egg Clay Aiken’s house.

LEAVING ME COLD

NBC-Universal is launching Chiller TV. While it sounds exciting to have a cable channel devoted to spooking the crap out of you, the schedule has frightened me away. The first few days are pretty much marathons of Alfred Hitchcock Presents (original and 1985 version), Tales from the Crypt, Night Gallery and Twin Peaks. Sure they’ll be also showing the Classic Monster Movies, but those black and white classics don’t come on till after 2 a.m. Wow… that’s so unexciting. I haven’t been this scared since I thought my doily collection was stolen by chipmunks… of the undead!

Why exactly did NBC-Universal kill Trio while developing Chiller and Sleuth? Does it take that much more energy to be creative versus creating Junk Drawer Channels? It is amazing how little you have to do to claim you’re a channel.

While it’s understandable that the dorks at NBC-Universal want to figure out ways to keep their vault active, but must it be this way? In six months, they’ll make an announcement that there will be a channel that will just show old medical shows.

BEST NEWS OF THE WEEK

The folks at Paramount Home Video are looking into releasing a best of Love, American Style boxset. Please let this be real.

ALTER MY DINING ROOM

My wife thinks that Trading Spaces really needs to bring Paige Davis back. The show without her seems like a rough cut. Paige was really able to tie the projects together and get a little bit more personality out of the families. She can’t watch more than 10 minutes of the new autopilot format. She has found a new show for remaking a room.

Sell the House! hostess Tanya Memme has become my new Home Depot Queen. I’d put my estate on the market for the chance to have Tanya paint over my dining room mural featuring the cover of Slayer’s Reign in Blood. My landlord might object to the For Sale sign, but he’ll understand the overwhelming power of a primer sprinkled Tanya. It’s not like I’m going to stop paying him rent after I sell the place. He should think of it as a sub-lease with mineral rights.

My fear is that I’ll end up having to do a pose off with Roger Hazard. My pythons are ready. That guy has a pair of guns makes the guys on ESPN Classic’s World’s Strongest Man look like they’re auditioning for Beauty and the Geek. Did he get that body from adjusting ottomen? By the end of the episode, Roger and I will see who can toss a keg over the swimming pool – lengthwise.

DR. DREW IS EVERYWHERE

How many gigs does Dr. Drew Pinsky do for a living? He does the Loveline on the radio. He does the Today Show in the mornings. He’s pushing a book about the stars. He supposedly runs a rehab center. But here’s my question – if he’s such a great rehab guy, why didn’t he cure Mary-Kate Olsen when he played her dad in New York Minute? Shouldn’t he have helped her stay off the tabloid covers? How does this guy see patients? Does he squeak them in between Access Hollywood and Dateline crews?

I wonder if Dr. Drew’s rehab center can help me kick my addiction to Sudanka – the decaffeinated numbers game. I understand the rehab business. A few years back I started the Joe Corey Rock Bottom Detox Center. It basically consisted of me kicking rich brats into the basement and giving them a bowl of Ramen noodles a day until they were cured or their parents stopped paying. This treatment was ruled barbaric by so called health care professions and Donald Rumsfeld – even after I demonstrated how on Thursdays, I’d toss down a sprinkler hose for bathday.

It’s a shame Britney Spears didn’t visit my treatment center. Remember, young female superstars, that you haven’t really hit rock bottom till you fall out of my bed.

MOP TOP

Why has Jonathan Hunt, the British Shouting Reporter on Fox News, stolen Ted Kopple’s hair? Does anyone at Fox point out that the guy needs to lose the cloth mop look?

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

Every time an actor appears on My Name Is Earl, do you ponder “I didn’t know they were Scientologists?”

CHICO, CA – He did it! The Great Jackie Earle Haley is now Oscar nominated for Best Supporting Actor.

When his name was announced, I felt a joyful rush. I’ve had acquaintances get nominated for Oscars and not been that elated. I would have cried, but my tears are reserved for Dick Clark’s funeral.

On the big board, behind Salma Hayek, was Jackie Earle Haley’s face. Luckily his name was called early so there was no gritting of teeth for the final name. This column has been spreading Oscar buzz back in October when Little Children ran at Toronto. And the buzz wasn’t merely marketing hype. Jackie Earle Haley had the goods.

What are the odds of him beating the Eddie Murphy juggernaut? It could be very good. Eddie has pissed off a lot people in Tinseltown. He’s notorious for being a pain on the set. Where do you think Martin Lawrence learned how to be a soundstage diva? On top of it, the airwaves are flooded with ads for Norbit. It’s another unfunny Eddie Murphy movie with him in a fat suit. A few years ago, Bill Murray had his Lost In Translation nomination derailed thanks to his voice being abused in Garfield. Murphy could suffer the Garfield Effect.

There’s also hope that Peter O’Toole and Kate Winslet might be walking up the stairs. Plus Jennifer Hudson grousing about American Idol might backfire. The Academy Awards can’t afford to be seen as the victory lap for the usual winners. Are viewers going to stick around to see the same folks that collected hardware at the Golden Globes and the SAG awards? Expect to see “upsets.” Jackie’s best bet is that he gets Jim Broadbent action – since Jim won the Best Supporting Actor award for his work in Iris, a film starring Kate Winslet.

The cool thing about Jackie Earle Haley is that he didn’t end up having to launch his comeback by appearing on Celebrity Justice or The Surreal Life. He didn’t have to embarrass himself in order to get back in the spotlight. He was able to land serious acting gigs. I can’t wait to see him take on Joan Rivers. Although best would be if he beats the crap out of Ryan Seacrest on the Red Carpet. He’d win the Presidential Medal of Freedom for popping American Idol boy. Or at least Angelina Jolie’s undying love.

LITTLE MISS BOOZE

Do you know what I call a 20 year old girl that likes to get drunk, takes a sniff or two of cocaine and sucks face with hot girls? A sophomore in college.

Are we really supposed to get a message out of Tara Connor’s new sober ways? After seeing her fresh out of rehab on every TV channel, here’s my message to her: We don’t care. The only reason a vast majority of America knows about you was because you came off as Tara Reid’s less skanky, but still slutty younger sister. But now that you’re all clean and sober, you bore the crap out of us. You can now vamoose like nearly every other woman that has won Miss USA.

High profile rehab centers have invented a 13th step that declares, “You must appear on every major talk show to promote your new life.” Who didn’t watch her tell-all interview on The Insider and begged for Pat O’Brien to lapse into his voicemail rant?

I do hope that rehab didn’t make her want to stop humping Miss Teen USA. America needs to know that girl-girl action doesn’t always involve Rosie O’Donnell. We need to dream that those pictorials in Penthouse had a basis in reality. If Miss America and Miss Teen USA aren’t getting nasty, then the terrorists have won.

WORST MOTHER OF THE MONTH

Dina Lohan has lowered the bar for bad motherhood with her recent antics. While her daughter Lindsay is in rehab, Dina has turned the spotlight onto herself. Instead of making Lindsay’s recovery a private family matter, she made an exclusive deal to have a reporter and camera crew record her motherly plight. Nothing was more pathetic than her rushing from New York to Hollywood to reunite with her troubled daughter as an exclusive for a certain infotainment show.

Dina has the nerve to complain about the photographers hounding her meeting with Lindsay at a ritzy store. She despises how the media dares to exploit her daughter. Yet there she is turning home movies into an easy profit source. Is she just upset that the paparazzi have hounded in on her exclusive moment?

Dina is just a step above the mother who sells her daughter’s panties to Japanese businessmen. But Dina might be willing to stoop if the price is right.

NO MORE EXTREME ACTION?

While I was wandering around on the Raleigh location of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, I overheard a rumor that the show has only one more season before ABC-Disney gives it the axe.

Pretty much Ty Pennington will be putting down the megaphone after the 2007-08 season, according to the water cooler chatter. Why? The show still pulls in good ratings. People still love to come out and see the houses being built by volunteers. But the suits at the Mouse network are upset that it’s not really their property – even though each episode promotes various Disney properties. The Rat must be fed.

Write the network and complain now.

GATES TV

Why is the press drooling over Bill Gates’ vision of television five years from now? While the internet has already changed how people watch TV, his examples are rather clueless.

Gates declares that TV is terrible when it comes to the Olympics. Why? Because it has fixed times for the various events being broadcast. He envisions a split signal that will allow people to just watch their favorite events at the proper time. But it can’t go down that way. Why?

Because NBC is paying billions of dollars to run the Olympics in America. They need top dollar for commercials. And they won’t get top dollar if they splinter-cast the various events through the internet. They don’t want you to merely watch your sport. They want you to watch the show. If you really gave a crap about certain events, wouldn’t you just go see the Olympics in person? NBC has to run women’s gymnastics in prime time cause that’s where the money is at.

“Internet presentation of these things is vastly superior,” declares Bill. Really? Who is footing the bill for all this content? The networks and cable channels barely want to pay anyone for content right now. NBC pays billions to the NFL, but they’ve decided sound guys are unnecessary for news reporters. It’s just going to turn into the Al Franken SNL joke where he had the camera attached to him along with the Sat dish. The big question is who will be paying his expenses to collect the truth? Even though Mark Cuban has hired an investigative business reporter, the stories are tilted to giving Cuban stock tips. Of course media news is now being used as corporate football. Did you notice how Fox News and the Boston Herald (owned by Rupes) went after Ted Turner for the Cartoon Network’s publicity stunt that went bad? Ted doesn’t own the Cartoon Network anymore. But that didn’t stop Rupert Murdoch’s minions perform an around the clock character assassination. Heaven forbid a news organization check their facts.

The biggest problem with the narrowcasting vision of Bill Gates is that viewers are allowed to avoid being informed about the outside world. “You have to wait for the guy to talk about the thing you care about,” Gates says. Maybe while waiting, a person has to listen to something they don’t know about to hear something that needs to be heard. Bill and his buddy Bono keep going on about Africa. But under Bill’s vision of tomorrow, I can exist in an information world where I don’t have to know a damn thing about Africa. Dafur for all I care is another specialty cup served at Starbucks. And who is going to tell me differently in Bill Gates’ Five Years into the Future?

What regular TV offers us is the ability to stumble across stuff. We are a society that loves to flip channels. But if we have to pay for each channel we click, are you really going to be that adventurous? We don’t want to think that hard to be entertained. I’ve a wall full DVDs, but I’d rather not have to get up, decide on a title, open the box, load the DVD player, wait for the “don’t download movies” crap, and finally click on the movie. I’d prefer to channel surf to Green Acres.

Leave it to a billionaire to tell us how we should watch TV. When is the last time Bill sat down and watched HBO’s Cathouse: The Series on his 110 inch flat screen plasma TV? Isn’t this guy too busy saving the world with his foundation and figuring out ways to give you more Blue Screens of Death on your PCs to watch Charlie’s Angels and Gilligan’s Island? Go save the world, Bill. I’ll keep the sofa warm.

MORE CATHOUSE!

Cathouse, my favorite reality show, returns to HBO this Friday (Feb. 10). Get a sense of what it’s like to hang around a legal Nevada brothel with the lovely ladies as they service their customers. It’ll also be on the HBO OnDemand channel so you can watch it whenever you get the urge.

We’re hoping to get a few questions answered from Shelly Dushell in an upcoming column. She had told me earlier that while she’s now working at the Wildhorse Rance, she was at the Moonlite Bunny Ranch during the recent tapings.

The highlight of the show will be the return of Isabella Soprano, America’s Sweetwhore. After the first series aired, Isabella become a sensation as an internet fetish model. She knows her way around a ball gag. The things they do to her with a water hose would melt a fireman. She even made a guest appearance on Seymore Butts’ Family Business series on Showtime. Even when she’s strapped down to a bed with various mechanical devices working her private parts, she still has that true girl next door appeal. She’s like an extra sexy graduate assistant teacher.  I want help refine her oral thesis. For those curious about the tattoo on her back, it reads, “Dream out loud.” And I’ve got a couple dreams involving her – although most of them end with my wife opening up the credit card bill and wondering what cost $13,000 in Nevada?

The amazing part about Cathouse is that if you really want to meet the “stars,” you can fly out to Reno and book time. This isn’t like The Girls Next Door where Hef teases you from behind the Playboy Mansion gates with his ladies. Bunny Ranch owner Dennis Hof is eager to welcome you into his life – as long you can pay in advance and be nice to the ladies.VERN IS YELLOW!

The “find the sticks of fake dynamite with the Party Favors logo in Boston” promotion has been canceled because I don’t want to be butt raped in jail by Vern Schillinger.

Here’s a strange piece of trivia, did you know that Vern Schillinger from Oz is the voice of the Yellow M&M? Yes, America’s favorite leader of the Arayan Brotherhood (played by actor J.K. Simmons) is our beloved candy icon. Can you imagine what’s been done to the Red M&M after all these years? Did Vern burn a swastika into the Red M&M’s butt like he did Tobias? Are red M&Ms the candy of choice for cellblock bitches?

The weird thing is that on an early episode of Oz, Vern experienced a chocolate coating. Simmons was able to connect the two roles on the gym floor.

An extra creepy moment is when Bill Fagerbakke arrived at Oz to play an Arayan prison guard. He’s the voice of Patrick on Spongebob Squarepants. If you close your eyes, it’s the Yellow M&M and Patrick the starfish talking about white power. Forget all the buzz about Harry Potter getting naked and nasty with horses on stage. Here’s two childhood icons that took on very daring roles and I’m scarred for it.

IS SHE FUNNY YET?

Has it really been 4 1/2 years since Jimmy Kimmel hooked up with Sarah Silverman? Some view this “power couple” as the comedy version of John and Yoko. I prefer to think of them as a super group featuring Yoko and Linda McCartney.

PRESIDENTIAL POOP

President Brownback? Come on. That sounds like character in a German fetish video. Does this guy really expect to run for president when his name sounds like a UPS slogan? Damn shame he can’t name Scatman Crothers as his Vice President. I’d put a “Brownback & Scatman ’08” bumpersticker on my Yugo.

And Gov. Huckabee is doomed because I Heart Huckabees put me to sleep. If people ignored the film, why are they going to care about the live act? Likewise, I’d never vote for Sen. Jurassic Park III.

And what is Gov. Pataki waiting for? Can’t you hear the corn growing? Can’t bother to run until you discover all the secrets of Lost?

With only two more years before the real presidential election, I’m already sick of these people and their hats in the ring. These goofs will mouth off about people taking advantage of welfare programs, but they’re the biggest welfare moochers in Americas. They need to con hundreds of millions of dollars from us for their campaigns. The winning candidate needs $100 million to win a job that pays $300K. It’s disgusting. Do we allow aspiring pizza delivery boys the right to raise millions so they can land a gig at the Pizza Transit Authority?

And I’m sick of Iowa and their caucuses. For three years out of the year, we only care about Iowa if they can beat the spread when Michigan stomps them. But for the next year, all we’ll see on TV is Sen. John McCain standing in a corn field. Whoopie.

Here’s a scoop: Saudi Arabia is in the process of building an ethanol plant on their soil. Why? Where does Saudi Arabia grow their corn?

And why is “Al Franken Considers Run For Minnesota Senate Seat” considered a new story? They made a two hour movie about his positioning for the job. Unless Franken puts his name on the ballot – it’s a non-story. You want an exclusive, I’m thinking about having an affair with Angelina Jolie. Put that on the cover of the New York Times. Or maybe Weekly World News.

LET’S GO COVERING

Why did Prince have to cover the Foo Fighters during the Super Bowl? I mean, here’s Prince and he’s doing covers of Hendrix and Ike and Tina Turner at halftime. And the Foo Fighters? Why no Sublime tribute? At least they didn’t try to force My Chemical Romance onto the bill. It was a great mini-show, but somehow it would have been nice if Prince had played something newer of his own than 23 year old material from Purple Rain.

It is amazing how he doesn’t completely come off as a nostalgia act. If the 1984 Super Bowl had Frankie Avalon, we’d think they were behind the times. Well at least they chose an American act this year instead of their First wave British invasion acts. Herman’s Hermits must have booked for a cockfight.

WHERE’S THE DVD?

When is The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh coming out on DVD? With all the talk about Pittsburgh getting a new arena for Mario and the Penguins, it’s hard to think of them trashing the old arena. It’s cinema history for the shot of the balloon with Dr. J in the basket floating down through the opening in the Mellon Arena’s retractable roof. If Orca and Gymkata can get released, then it’s time for the greatest basketball film to get shiny disc love. Plus it’s time for a James Bond III revival.

Gymkata is this month’s must see DVD. Director Robert Clouse helped define Bruce Lee when he directed Enter the Dragon. A decade later he was given the weirdest task in filmmaking – transform a male gymnastics star into an international action hero. And don’t play it for laughs. Kurt Thomas, the diminutive star who missed his chance to shine in the boycotted 1980 Moscow Olympics, is sent on a secret mission to a small Eastern European country. He has to win a brutal competition in order to get the US a site for a defense project. Instead of being buried under secret gadgets, Thomas has to use a mixture of gymnastics and karate against the opposition. And thus the world was introduced to Gymkata.

The greatest moment in the movie is when Thomas uses a town monument to score a perfect 10 in the Pummeling Horse. This film is pure unintended hilarity. It’s like a pilot for a show to follow Sledge Hammer. Shockingly enough, there would be no Gymkata 2: Vault of Death.

If you have a bottle of Jack Daniels, you need to watch this film as part of Really Dumb Action movie night. This would be the perfect double bill with John Cena’s The Marine. Did anyone else laugh during the film when they kept claiming Australian countryside was really South Carolina? I kept waiting for them to have Kangaroo-shaped possums.