Gentle and soft / smoooooooooth and easaaaaayyy

So I was practicing my bass this morning (I do 10 minutes a day -- at this rate, I'll be an expert pro bassist in four million years!), and I was working on "Hotel California," and I could not stop laughing to myself, thinking of this, which is the most brilliant thing in the history of ever and if you are not watching the entirety of Documentary Now, you are MISSING OUT:

She's the reason I know who the Replacements are, although that's a point neither for nor against her.

I guess Winona Ryder is just going to be magickal for me, forever. This is her in Show Me a Hero (a six-episode miniseries about public housing in Yonkers, NY, in the 80s and 90s, by the Wire guy, which Mr. Gleemonex and I finished watching last week). I can never not with her. She is my everything.

I'm going to kiss you now, Gerald.

"And I HATE SQUASH!"

Ethan Hawke is a known Turbo-Quattro Dickcheese, yes? Like, in every possible real-life way, right? So it's easy to forget how goddamn good an actor he is. But: He is.

We just saw Boyhood last weekend, 100% because of Richard Linklater, and oh you guys, it was so so so good. Nearly a week later and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. So many scenes are stuck in my head, so many feelings still being felt -- GOSH it was something. And but so all of the actors were completely ace, but special mention for Hawke because of what Roger Ebert's Bigger Little Movie Glossary called the "Pentimento Paradigm." TQD Hawke is so good that you actually forget how awful a person he is, and that's talent (grudgingly acknowledged), y'all.

-----------------------------------
Pentimento Paradigm: Pentimento is when images from an old painting seep through and become visible in a newer picture that has been painted over the old. Thus the relation is when what we know about a filmmaker or actor seeps into our perception of his film work. Example: Any old Rock Hudson movie now that his private life is no longer private. Being aware of the reality behind the fiction may add to the complexity of the drama (Taylor and Burton in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?) or distract from its intentions (Woody and Mia in Husbands and Wives).

Upon reflection, I'd have to give this one a pass.

23/40

One of the fun things about being my age and having small kids is getting to revisit a lot of the stuff you knew about three or three and a half decades ago. There's a lot of WTF involved.

The Revisit: Peter Pan (Disney, 1953)

We watched this over the xmas break on family movie night, figuring it'd be OK for both kids (ages 6 and 2) and the grandparents. Well ... yes and no. There was no cursing, sex or violence, but yikes, that thing was NOT what I remembered from the once or twice I saw it as a kid.

The story itself is pretty thin -- it'd be about 30 minutes if they told it straight. But then they go and add all this crap about the whole family tiptoeing around this blustery clumsterfoot of a domineering dad, which makes me not like the Darling family much. And then and THEN they have this really long (like 15 minute) super crazy racist scene at a "powwow" with what Kid Gleemonex, bless 'er, called "Native Americans" -- big old red hook-nosed Injun "braves" and nasty "squaws" and one suspiciously pale young princess (because only light-skinned people can be pretty), all this "How!" and "Big Chief smoke-um pipe" business that just went on for god.damned.EVER. Plus there is this longer-than-necessary scene with the deliberately pre-pubescent/latent Peter Pan and these clearly adult and super, SUPER-cunty mermaids who get their mer-vajays all stretched sideways over the amount of attention he pays to young miss Wendy -- it's pretty fucked up, honestly. Not Judy-Garland-as-Dorothy-Gale fucked-up, but close.

It's like the milk truck scene in Three Kings.

I'm'a take a break from baggin on shit today and bring y'all:

A Few Wonderful Things From the Internets, Which Maybe You've Already Seen, But If Not, Here's Your Chance

So Ladies If the Butt Is Round, and You Want a Triple-X Hoedown
This rendered me HELPLESS with the awesome! Guy cuts together 295 movies to form "Baby Got Back" -- everybody from Cary Grant to Pee-Wee Herman and Marge Gunderson gets a word or two in. From the guy who did Don Draper Says What, so you know this is fucking gold medal shit, y'all. (Hat tip: the forever-winning List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago). 

Voguing Into Manhood
Perhaps the only thing that could have made me wheeze in agonized laughter this morning (I was up, I think, SIX times with the teething REM-sucking vampire, and once with the 4.5-year-old brat-phasing one): A kid doing a full-out, absolutely committed performance of Madonna's "Vogue" at his own bar mitzvah in 1992. There is a large Madonna poster involved, as well as a king-hell jacket-tearing-off which reveals a gigantic Madonna rendering on the back of the kid's dress shirt. It's -- it's kind of uplifting, honestly; as one commenter said, "he must have really supportive parents, bless him."

Sippy Cups Can Go to Hell
Holy shit, did this make me laugh yesterday -- could. not. stop. For like hours. I can't even stop finding stuff to quote -- but here's a taste:

One more thing about the whole BPA issue: I'd like to issue a big FUCK YOU to whoever found out BPAs in plastic are possibly harmful. I bet this was Kelly Preston's doing. Now I can't put the sippy cup in the dishwasher because the heat will cause the BPAs to leak out and give my kid triple AIDS or something. Any item that can't go into a dishwasher should be destroyed.

Leonard Edward Funt

I'm pretty sure there's nobody -- not even Anthony Edwards's mom -- who has seen How I Got Into College more times than I have. It's one of Savage Steve Holland's unsung masterpieces, and endlessly, stupidly quotable in that sort of Tourettey fashion my brain kicks into automatically all the damn time. (Like f'rinstance, I see the word Yale, and I think "One girl took up wrestling, and she got into Yale!" "No, Harvard!" And sometimes I say this out loud, and people around me are like " ... the fuhh?") It's crammed full of awesome actors (but as is often the case with this type of movie, it has a lead who is nobody and went nowhere after). It's ridonculous, but has sudden stabs of truth (remember that girl calling her mom at home to see if she got any college letters, and she's yelling into the phone, "Is it fat or skinny? Fat or skinny! FAT OR SKINNY!!!"). Fun as hell, y'all.

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This post brought to you by the fourth waking of one of my vampire children (TM Berwie), in which I got back into bed at 4:04 in the a.m., that's ante meridian, but couldn't go to sleep until I typed "DK post: How I got into college" into the Notes app on my iPhone. 

This desk set ... wants to fly.

Isn't it sad how much of a total fucking dickbag Ethan Hawke turned out to be? God, remember how hot he was, and like, sensitive and shit (onscreen anyway), and how really really good an actor he was? And but then the cheating on Uma thing, and the random whoring around, and the general dickbaggery, and you start to think he was like that all along, and getting famous just gave him license to let it out, and he thought we'd ignore the dickbaggery and just love him anyway, and now he's just horrible? Daaamn.

I'm Jamal, I'm your waiter and I also act

Somewhere in the Los Angeles metropolitan area today, in a large conference room booked by someone's admin, there is an AAR -- After-Action Review -- going on. There are those giant Post-It note pads on easels, a shitload of Starbucks coffees, and a "facilitator" who says this isn't about blame (yes it is).

A couple dozen people with some version of my Day Job (most of whom have "Participate in X number of AARs" on their development plan) are sitting around in crappy conference-room chairs, feeling simultaneously murderous and skin-shreddingly bored. The facilitated conversation is halting at first; no one really wants to admit error or be the first to point the finger, since it'll come back on them fivefold, but enough gets said that there are some notes on the giant Post-Its at least, and the facilitator allows the introduction of What We Could Do Better Next Time.

Now some jackass who is probably a lot like my boss decides this is the moment to be bold. Seizing that moment like the daring, radical innovator he is, he acts like he has just come up with the notion of "incorporating more user-generated content" into the Oscar broadcast so that "viewers can really engage with the material," "have a stake in the outcomes," and "join the conversation."

He's like the reincarnation of Steve Motherhumping Jobs, this guy. His idea will be to have presenters and/or the host(s) read viewers' -- no, "home participants'" -- Tweets and Facebook posts live on air. This, he says, will help make Oscar "relevant," "buzzworthy," and "trend-leading."

Sensing the approval of more senior types (who know that the kids love their social medias), people in the room will glom onto this. Ideas will blast forth like wine: a Twitter crawl in the bottom of the screen! A viewer contest on Facebook for a new "Fan Favorite" category, to be decided by the number of Facebook "like"s! (Can we get Bob to reach out to our contacts at Facebook and Twitter so we can start having some conversations around that? We don't want to lose momentum, and we'll need executive buy-in.) The phrase "tell our story" will come up, more than once.

When the FB/Twit thing starts to dry up, there will be talk about Oscar's "brand," and how to "celebrate and incorporate our heritage," but not overemphasize the fact that your great-grandma could've been Douglas Fairbanks's side piece at the first one. We really need to "leverage" that 85 years of "iconic glamour" without "looking backward" too much. There will be suggestions for "dream hosts," ways to "sharpen the edge" and "create a more youthful profile." Eventually this will "circle back" to social media, because that is how Millennials "engage with content" nowadays; they don't like to just hear who the nominees are and which ones won. They don't, in fact, want to be told anything -- they want their voice to be heard* , and they like it to be in a social way, with their friends, and we need to recognize that and meet them "in their own space."

After this meeting has exhausted every minute of its three-hour running time, there will be a PowerPoint deck sent around, summarizing all the major and minor bullet points, and people will be "tasked with" various "action items," upon which they will all "report out" in the coming weeks, when they will begin to "have those conversations around" their progress on said action items. A year from now, this is why you will be seeing "alot" of idiotic, incomprehensible shit involving @ symbols, hashtags, the number "2" and the letter "u" trundling along underneath Clooney's face as they cut to him for the hundredth time because he's the closest thing we've got to an old-school movie icon anymore (and besides the last time they cut to Bieber he was picking his nose lololol!!!1!!).

This is how it works, America. You're welcome.

------------

*No matter how painfully uninformed and vapid that voice is.

M is for Mrs. Scott Strauss, which is also my name.

Movie Boyfriends of the Golden Age of Teen Cinema, As Assessed By Teenage Me and Grown-Ass Woman Me: The Third In a Series.

7) RANDALL "PINK" FLOYD, Dazed and Confused

---Teenage (well, 20-year-old) Me: Hey now! Great hair, hips look real nice in them jeans, social chameleon, athletic but not beefy, stoner but not dangerous, nice to kids, music fan, stubborn streak a mile wide -- this right here is the guy for me.

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Indeed. I mean, he'd grow out of adoring his own teen rebelliousness bullshit, right? Surely. He did have the kind of clarity about peaking in high school that your popular types usually don't, so I'd double down on young Mr. Floyd here.

8) BRYAN, Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead

---Teenage Me: AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH DEAD POETS SOCIETY! So cute, so sweet. I will go on a date with him and then I will put my mouth on his mouth!

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Srsly. Dead Poets Society. Future marine biologist. Goofy, fun date ideas. We don't have to live in the same house as his megabitch sister, so: this'll work.

9) FERRIS BUELLER, Ferris Bueller's Day Off

---Teenage Me: "He's going to marry me." [swoons, dies]

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want? Yes, still. God, what a great high-school boyfriend Ferris would've made. Not sure about the long game, but were I Sloane in that moment, you goddamn right I would've married him that day. It would've made a great story, even after we went to separate colleges and got divorced. Totally worth it.

--------------------------

Still to come: Knox Overstreet, Jake Ryan, J.D., and more ...

This a Barksdale joint, yo.

Movie Boyfriends of the Golden Age of Teen Cinema, As Assessed By Teenage Me and Grown-Ass Woman Me: The Second In a Series.

4) DANNY POPE, Running on Empty*

---Teenage Me: River Phoenix. Tears. Longing. The courage of his convictions! He's a musician. Christ would you lookit those eyes. That hair! And he loves Martha Plimpton! WANT. MUST HAVE.

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: River Phoenix. Tears. Longing. The courage of his convictions! He's a musician. Christ would you lookit those eyes. That hair! And he loves Martha Plimpton! WANT. MUST HAVE.

5) BRAND, The Goonies

---Teenage Me: You mean the guy who’s all het up about Kerry Green? She’s way too much prettier than me, I can’t have him, plus he’s old, so forget about it.

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Well well well, what have we here? Classic older bro – busy with his own life, dismissive of the kid brother and his dork friends, but good-looking and in the end, heroic and a really stand-up guy; deals well with failure (just gets back in the saddle); gets to kiss the pretty girl finally. And turns into Josh Brolin later. Hmm. Yes, yes indeed.

6) JOHN BENDER, The Breakfast Club

---Teenage Me: Bad-ASS!!!! Kind of scary, but really funny. Tempting, verrry tempting. Still – too far outside the boundaries in general. No way he goes to church. We can sign each other’s yearbooks, though, and I’ll parlay that one kiss into a much bigger mythology about myself that I can tell people for the next few years.

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Son, you got a lot of Issues you need to deal with. Seriously.

Still to come: Randall "Pink" Floyd, Marty McFly, Edward Scissorhands, Ferris Bueller, Jake Ryan, and many more ...

-----------------------------

*It could be argued that Running on Empty is not a "teen movie" in the classic sense, in that there aren't a lot of hijinx and it's actually a pretty serious movie that got a lot of critical attention -- but it has River Phoenix so shut up.

What's with these homies dissin my girl? Why do they gotta front?

Movie Boyfriends of the Golden Age of Teen Cinema, As Assessed By Teenage Me and Grown-Ass Woman Me: The First In a Series.

1) BLAINE, Pretty In Pink

---Teenage Me: Wow he's pretty. Nice hair. Doesn't embarrass me like Duckie, and OK, he waffles sometimes, but we got to dance together at prom in front of that bitch what's-her-name, Kate Vernon, so: Yay, Blaine!

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Jesus, you are a weakling. Can't even be man enough to tell me whether we're still going to the goddamn prom together? Willing to ditch me because I'm A Poor? Totally under the thumb of your boy Steph the once and future date-rapist? Get the fuck outta here.

2) KEITH, Some Kind of Wonderful

---Teenage Me: Ohhhhh, what an awesome date he planned out for us! And what a romantic gesture, those diamond earrings! [swoon]

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: IDIOT. Jewelry? You drain your college fund for DIAMONDS to give to a HIGH-SCHOOL GIRL? That's the only thing worse than that awful painting, although, you know, bless you for the effort there. [hairpats] On the plus side, who knew you'd age so well? You turned kind of hot sometime in the last 20 years ... hmm. Still: IDIOT.

3) Mark Ratner, Fast Times at Ridgemont High

---Teenage Me: No. I'm not dating anybody smaller than me.

---Grown-Ass Woman Me: Ehhhh ... on the one hand, he at least isn't a date-rapist like two other dudes I know. But he's the kind of high-school dork that you can't tell whether he's going to grow up into a semi-dorky but awesome guy, or stay hopelessly dorky forever. Tough call ... I guess he'll do, for now. As a sort of friend-boyfriend. We'll practice kissing, he won't knock me up, we'll sort of drift apart when he gets really heavily into some Dork Activity and I finally figure out how pretty I really am* and start owning that instead of letting it get me into bad relationships with crappy guys.

*And by "I," I mean Jennifer Jason Leigh/Stacy. Not I, Gleemonex.

------------------------

Still to come: Randall "Pink" Floyd, Marty McFly, Brandon Walsh [Goonies, not 90210], Danny Pope, Edward Scissorhands, Ferris Bueller, Jake Ryan, and many more ...

Alison's starting to happen

In honor of Women's History Month, a Selection of:

Things That Are Makin Me Happy Today!

1.) The 80th anniversary of the Earthly manifestation of the Most High Anointed, the Grand Ka-Boom, the One From Whom All Blessings Flow: William His Highness the Shatner.

2.) Mimi Smartypants -- holy Shatner, does she kill me:

4. Speaking of, who on this train could you take in a fight? Pick somebody to hate. Picture yourself standing up and thumping the hell out of that person. Picture the spilled Starbucks, the torn North Face jackets, the general pandemonium. Maybe he would fight back. Maybe other commuters would join in, vigilante-style, to beat the crap out of you. Picture your black-eyed, bloody-nosed self being carried off the train by the police, still thrashing and fighting. Hey, I won’t be in today. I kicked everybody’s ass and got my ass kicked in return. I’ll check email later.

3) These goddamn little triple ginger cookies from Trader Joe's. WHY SHATNER WHY are they so tasty?

Meanwhile, Billy Crystal, Shatner love 'im, gets a little more womanly-looking with every passing year.

Two questions about last night:

1) Can we employ someone to teach the ladies how not to walk like lumberjacks in their lovely gowns, and also what to do with their arms & hands? Mila Kunis looked like she forgot where her pockets were and was trying to find them all night, Anne Hathaway kept slumping and standing with all her weight on one leg all lopsided, everybody was just stomping around in too-tall heels -- a little grace, ladies, please!

2) Who was drunker -- Bening & Beatty, or ScarJo? Actually, I think ScarJo was out of her mind on like six different pillz (uppers, downers, screamers, laughers, et al.). Maybe she was also drunk, but that glassiness looked pharmaceutical. Bening/Beatty, FTW!

And a couple of random thoughts:
That guy who won for short feature: of COURSE it was an NYU stoodent project. OF COURSE IT WAS. The chick from Winter's Bone: Zaxed out. Like three or four more Xanaxes than the recommended dose. Sandra Bullock: You gotta start letting someone else do your hair. It's possible Halle Berry is the Living Satan, because how else do you look 23 still, and from whence else could that glow be coming? Cate Blanchett's dress looked like she had a lizard riding piggyback, but it was AWESOME when the Wolfman clip finished, and she commented mildly, "Gross." before going on with her presenter's duties. The Auto-Tune bit made me laugh stupidly. Alec Baldwin might actually be a god [note to self: look into this; if true, set up tax-free church in His name].

I don't want to lose my virginity to a piece of fruit!

Wow, y'all. I finally saw An Education Saturday night, and ... wow. I haven't seen anything that stuck with me like this in a very long time.

I won't bother with plot summary -- that's what the IMDB is for -- but I sort of HAVE to talk about it.

It was funny, it was stylish, Carey Mulligan is a revelation, the script (Nick Hornby!, based on a memoir by Lynn Barber) was great, and but the movie was at times just ... wincingly painful, which is part of what made it so good. This girl, Jenny -- she's a girl, a CHILD, and when the dashing older man David sees her for the first time, there's no getting around it -- he's not seeing some teenager glammed up to look much older than her years; she's sopping wet in a rainstorm in her school uniform. This is extremely hard to defend on his part -- I mean, it triggers VIOLENT feelings in me to think of mid-thirties men leering at teenage girls, no matter what the time period -- and it's to Saarsgaard's credit that he carries it off; he actually doesn't seem creepy, just ... I don't know, wistful and self-deluded or something. And the way he's able to contre-pied her parents, making them think it's their idea to allow Jenny such latitude where he's concerned ... amaaazing.

And the thing is, I understand it from her point of view too -- I was a brainy, striving teenager with a head full of ideas about books and travel and music and culture once, and we all wanted to be seen as older and more sophisticated than we were; that's why older men appeal to young girls: They seem to have it all figured out already. They don't have to learn how to navigate life, awkwardly and in fits and starts, along with us the way boys our own age do. If an older man with the world at his feet takes an interest, it's all too easy to believe he's on the level -- you really ARE special! He really DOES just want you for your mind! And the young person is at such a disadvantage -- they don't know, they can't know, that that's not the way the world works. For me, fortunately, there were only ever just dreamy crushes on men I knew I'd never even meet. (side note: Not only would my own parents have made the man in question wish he'd never been born, but also, my own character would not have allowed a thing like this, honestly; I sensed early and strongly how much I dislike power imbalances in relationships, and it would be hard to be more imbalanced than this -- unless the older guy was in a position of authority in her life, like a teacher maybe. Ugggggh.) For Jenny, there's an exciting, intoxicating romance that ends painfully, and a truly immense life lesson learned young -- as Jenny realizes in the end, "For the life I want, there is no shortcut."

Anyway. Altogether wonderful. Loved this movie. And now I want to see Carey Mulligan in everything, always.

"Oh, didja hear that? He was GETTIN there. Psssh. Son, you wouldn't know what to do with it if you HAD gotten there, so don't worry about it."

What's Impeding the Bloggage Lately? A Partial List

--The immense, fantastic suckitude of my job. When every day starts with that sick dready third-day-of-seventh grade feeling, plus a heapin' helpin' of poison loathing, and there's so much work to do that for the third night in a week you're up past midnight plugging away, and you still make what you made three years ago, plus you're bossed by aggressive halfwits, and twenty-five-year-olds are getting promoted over you -- you know it blows!

--Under the Dome. GodDAMN, Stephen King. I WISH I KNEW HOW TO QUIT YOU. But I can't put this (five-pound) thing down, dammit. I'm sick ... and I never want to get well!

--Various and sundry Grownup Life Tasks (getting prequalified for a mortgage, booking travel to HHL's wedding, arranging family social shit, gettin us all to the dentist, payin bills, what have you)

--Running! I never knew I could love it, but reader, I do. Longer and longer distances, higher and higher runner's highs ...

--An inability to handle horrifying shit in the news (for days I've been trying, and failing, to come up with something to say about the murder spree that numbnuts crazy fuckwad went on in Arizona -- I got nothing but outrage and sadness).

--The daily irritation of seeing those Natalie Portman - Ashton Kutcher movie posters in the festering pit that is BART. Now, y'all know I love me some Natalie, and Kutcher, for all his retarday, will always hold a special little place in my heart for my beloved Dude, Where's My Car?, but come ON. It's the tagline that really bothers me: "Can SEX FRIENDS stay BEST FRIENDS?" Because: What? "Sex friends"? Has anyone -- in the history of ever -- used that phrase? I get what you're going for, but THAT IS NOT A THING.

--Unproductive yet awesome shit I find on the Internets (a series of tubes). These two are via my personal Kenny Powers of Internet Awesome, Mimi Smartypants: First, Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit. Second: The hills are alive ...

I like my coffee black. Like my men.

Monday Awesomeness Roundup

--Beyond the Lighted Stage: Rush documentary. Y'all, it would be hard to find a band whose music connects less with me ... but I loved this! That's the measure of a good documentary, y'all. Thanks to Our Lebowski for bringing it to the party.

--Black coffee. I took yet another cue from BlabberMouse (from whom I take most of my cues, to the point of if she lived any closer than on the opposite side of the entire country like she does, it might cross the line into some sort of stalkerazzi-impersonation type of thing so maybe this is for the best) and have been trying to lessen the grip of the Demon Sugar on my life. First up: the creamy delicious sugarbomb beverage I have known all my days as "coffee." I have slowly crept up, over the years, to about three tablespoons of raw sugar in a regular cup of joe (plus a generous dash of half-and-half). Not teaspoons, TABLESPOONS. It had to stop, and stop it did. Cold. I'm not saying never again, but: Not now.

--Mad Men. Again, yes. Always.

Dr. Lyle Evans

Internets, I have to tell you this: Mad Men is the reason there's no reason to go to the movies anymore.

This season is ON FIRE. I have become as vehement and unstoppable an evangelist for it as I am for The Wire, which is to say, people who consider themselves filled with the LORD (and who always all-caps the word LORD) will recognize a similar unhingement in me as that which they find in themselves.

Which is to say: Holy Drunken Out-Of-Control SHATNER, is Mad Men awesome.

It's not about the clothes (which are wonderful) or the envious nostalgia for drinkin' & smokin' like it weren't bad for ya (although, well ...) or the thing where when guys you know drink to excess and skirt-chase, it sucks, but when Don Draper does it while being handsome in a suit it's awesome. None of those things. It's about some of the best-written, nuanced, complex, real, honest human life ever captured on film. You forget you're watching fiction, you forget you're watching period drama -- you just live in that world, fully immersed, until it's over, and then it stays with you and you find yourself thinking about it days, weeks, months, years later.

It really is that good. I wouldn't steer y'all wrong.

Apropos of nothing ...

... you guys know what a great movie is? I'll tell you: Midnight Madness.

Made in 1980, one of the dozens and dozens of movies I've seen dozens of times* because my family had HBO** in the early going, but y'all -- OK, so I haven't seen it since at least 1988, but it was good! Remember Michael J. Fox, all misunderstood & whiny? And how all the teams wore color-coordinated sweatshirts in that bulky 80s polyester cut? And FAGABEEFE? And "SomeWHERE ... in the Bonaventure Hotel!"?

Awesome.

-----------------------------------

*Including but not limited to: Looker, Just One of the Guys, Class, Turk 182, Twilight Zone: The Movie, April Fool's Day, Valley Girl, Savannah Smiles, How I Got Into College, Beastmaster, Secret of NIMH, Eddie and the Cruisers, Superman III, Arthur, and V (a ... soccer movie? ... starring Sylvester Stallone? I think?).

**Horrible Body Odor! HA ha! O that never gets old!!!!

It's almost not fair ...

... how breathtakingly beautiful Emma Watson is. But I can't even be envious, because it's just ... a level above. You can't be jealous of a goddess, you know? And why I mention this now is, it's RIDICULOUS how pretty she looks with her new pixie cut -- major religons could be founded on the basis of this young woman's photo alone.

Tofutti Klein

Shit that has GOT to STOP:

So J. Lo thinks she can remake Overboard.

J. Lo is an asshole.

So are the people who have remade Clash of the Titans, and anyone involved in the remakes of Top Gun [oh dear], Weird Science, et fucking cetera.

But not because the originals are so awesome that they shouldn’t be tampered with – just the opposite. Well, some of them are (Red Dawn*, 9 to 5, Footloose, Karate Kid shut up and get your damn hands off it WILL SMITH). But most of them, it’s precisely because they are sofa king bad that they are beyond perfect. People of my generation have seen these flicks hundreds of times – they’re so lightweight, so stupid, so D-U-M dumb – that they complete the full circle around and become GENIUS.

Holy Played-Out Shit-Licking Bug-Eyed Anti-Shatner, Hollywood: GET A NEW GODDAMNED IDEA. Just one. New. Fucking. Idea. Don’t the kids of today deserve a couple dozen dumbshit movies they can watch a million times over the summer and still quote when they’re 36? GOD.

*cracked.com says “The original Red Dawn populated its cast with all the big teen celebrities of its day, which means there's at least a half chance we'll get a Red Dawn featuring some High School Musical bastards and at least two Jonas brothers.” Stand back, protect your shoes, Internets – I’m gonna hurl.