Apropos

Weird. Just got this email from my friends Sianna and Fed. I had forgotten they were making this video for her pretty song. Check out their great work:



Pretty typical coincidence in my life. But isn't it great? Pass the link on!

Question of the Night

Have you ever dated anyone who has killed anyone? I'm specifically thinking of military service, though I suppose the issue applies to reformed criminals, too. Did it queer you out, or did you not think about it?

Measure of a Man

Every man has three characters:
that which he shows,
that which he has,
and that which he thinks he has.

-Alphonse Karr

Perfect

Posted here without permission, obviously:

AMANDA GUINZBURG
Split Scene

Every time Rosie O’Donnell would walk on stage during The View’s opening, she made a gesture of feigned shock that there were all these people wildly applauding for her. She would turn her hands upwards and furrow her brow in exaggerated confusion and then as she’d continue out towards the table (trailed by the other consistently waving co-hosts), her open Irish face would break into a bright wide smile. She was, it seemed from the very start, saying to everyone who watched: I am going to take you with me now, into the land of bright lights, quick touch-ups and major league pretend.

But doing that while still following the rest of the rules of network television proved ultimately an impossible balancing act for a woman who has remarkably balanced a great deal. Or rather a task whose compromises, not just of time away from her beloved family (a family, it can safely be said, she made a natural part of morning conversation despite the fact that it is unconventional by traditional — and it would seem now, in large part thanks to her — almost archaic standards) but of her fiercely held moral standards of what is right and what is real.

Television has taken almost every ounce of reality away from the very genre so named. We are all supposed to be in on the joke now — that everything we see is edited and manipulated to serve some larger narrative. To wit: the debauched kids on MTV’s Real World: The Moon! (Not really, but they’re seriously running out of places to house these drunken whores), the wrecked and weeping women riding away mascara-streaked in limousines after being dumped by the latest Bachelor, or the ever available desperados of afternoon talk shows. Jerry Springer is still perhaps the most extreme, and even he now has his own meta-show, The Springer Hustle where we see that guests are so heavily prepped by producers they’re actually told at what point to physically attack their cheating spouse (when the lie detector or DNA test comes back positive) or racist neighbor (when he or she inevitably and often gleefully uses the “n” word)

For Rosie what is real is synonymous with the truth and the truth is as precious a commodity as it is rare, at least in the realm of show business. On her heavily trafficked website, she often writes about things like feeding geese, befriending squirrels, baby birds hatching in a corner of her roof, her wife’s conservative family, her children’s small triumphs and the ordinary people she encounters’ various struggles to survive. She puts her money where her mouth is and consistently gives it away, threatening to fire her financial advisors should she ever wind up on a Richest Celeb list. But she’s also fully recognized and taken advantage of the national audience she regained by joining The View this year, speaking out and devoting whole hours to issues like depression, autism, and the devastating illnesses now ravaging the 9/11 first responders.

Then there is The War. Rosie has relentlessly, with unmistakable rage and palpable grief refused, despite Barbara Walter’s awkward discomfort with it, to stop speaking out about this criminal administration and the Iraq War it made up, dressed up, and sold to our nation. “WAKE UP, AMERICA!” Rosie has, for years now, commanded from within the sometimes-confusing typographical trenches of her blog. Despite the fact that the media’s manipulations drove her from the very show she reinvented, Rosie’s fights with Elisabeth Hasselbeck did nothing if they did not wake us up. They were riveting in their rawness and to the extent one side of them ever seemed prepped, Rosie made no attempt to hide her disgust with such executively borne machinations.

On what O’Donnell has since called Nuclear Wednesday, Hasselbeck made an analogy about a deadline for pulling out of the war and a timed football pass. Nothing could have articulated more clearly what Rosie seemed to find so anathema about this woman’s politics and ultimately her personal comportment. While Elisabeth appeared to almost relish the supposed gamesmanship of their political throw downs — going off to do sound bytes for the nightly “entertainment” show after Wednesday’s meltdown and assuring the public she wasn’t “mad” and that they would most definitely remain friends, they wore Rosie O’Donnell so far down you could literally see it in her eyes. They grew distant long before that eventual (and perhaps inevitable) dénouement.

Rosie said it was the split screen that was the final nail in her View coffin. It makes sense. The split screen implied that these feelings and ideas Rosie holds so dear and was trying, so very hard it seemed, to communicate to Elisabeth (but also to anyone who had ever twisted her words to serve their personal agenda) about truth and justice and loyalty and humanity could be turned into an empty gesture of celluloid commercialism: Selling Rosie as the worst and most dishonest caricature of herself, one side of a two dimensional screen. Kind of like what the government has done to our nation. Every day veracity is under siege in America as the current administration tries to warp what’s actually happening while the vast majority of our mainstream media remains complicit with their systematic airbrushing of the bloody facts.

We who compulsively tuned into the video blog she began a few weeks ago with her quirky long time producer-cum-mustache artist and giant-turkey-wing-eating hair stylist saw that Rosie was clearly far more at ease back stage, behind closed doors with a face naked of all concealers, singing along to Amy Winehouse or Tina Turner and answering some of the thousands of questions she gets daily than she ever would be out on that carefully orchestrated studio set.

I am confident, however, that Rosie will return. Not to The View, but to the unmatched power that is television. She’ll don the necessary war paint and head out under the hot white lights and blinking audience signs. She may act more or less surprised that people still love her, despite and because of her rage. The fact is this: A steadfast quest to reveal what is really real requires Rosie stay out here, on the front lines of truth.

Grrgh

I'm so upset about the whole Rosie thing going on. I really shouldn't even by typing about it. Lots of love and light to Rosie for having the cajones to take on an institution of lies through its own media source. Of course it couldn't last, and the punishment was brutal. So classy of her to leave and not make a statement. Watched the View today for the last time. What a pack of lies.

I can't wait until technology and the audience reach the point where she can have her own real show online, and say whatever she feels. For now, I'll watch Jahero reruns on Rosie.com.



Purchase

Happy 30th

Blowing Wind

The highlight of the American Idol finale should not be me yelling (at the screen)at the bloated, leathered Bette Midler "Don't do it!" as she goes for the high "fly" note.

What a career killer. I can hear the pink bragade calling Vegas to refund their tickets as I type...

Float My Boat

Now how did Disney manage this publicity stunt?



Richest Shipwreck Treasure

As if the kids weren't already wetting their inner child jammies over seeing Depp as Jack again.

Mutant Swingers From Mars

From my friend Bill Cunningham at www.D2DVD.Blogspot.com:

http://headbangersblog.com/2007/05/10/movies-for-metalheads-sex-machine-white-slave-collection-swamp-zombies-a-secret-handshake-ghost/

Thank you all for taking a look at the link and please spread the word about Christopher Sharpe's cool little flick that's winning the hearts and minds of pulp moviegoers across the globe. I am proud to represent this movie (distributed worldwide by Anthem Pictures) as well as the upcoming scifi-horror-comedy MUTANT SWINGER FROM MARS featuring Jack White (of The White Stripes in his first movie role).

MUTANT SWINGER FROM MARS is writer-director Mike Kallio's love letter to Ed Wood, swing music and cinema cheese. You can watch the trailer on YouTube .

All rights to MSFM are currently available.

Girth and Nudity: A Pictorial Mission

The New York Times
By ABBY ELLIN
Published: May 13, 2007


BEFORE we begin, let’s get one thing out of the way: Yes, Leonard Nimoy is more than happy to do it — the Vulcan salute, the gesture that launched a thousand spaceships. He does so easily, effortlessly: palm outward, fingers extended, the index and middle finger smashed together, the ring finger and pinky touching, the thumb sticking out on its own.

ROLE MODELS Leonard Nimoy’s “Full Body Project” features nude obese women.
“People ask me all the time,” Mr. Nimoy said, carrying saucers of coffee and tea into his art-filled living room off Central Park West. He placed them next to galleys of his forthcoming photography book, which sat near a copy of “Carnal Knowing: Female Nakedness and Religious Meaning in the Christian West,” by Margaret R. Miles, and a folder of news clippings on obesity.

“You see what I have here, about the health guidelines for models?” he asked, pointing a long, tapered finger toward the file.

The basso profundo voice was unmistakable, his words occasionally clipped with his native Boston accent. “They now have to have at least a certain weight to qualify,” Mr. Nimoy added. He looked pleased. This is a subject that speaks to him.

He knows that he is an unlikely champion for the size-acceptance movement; body image is a topic he never really thought about before. But for the last eight years, Mr. Nimoy, who is 76 and an established photographer, has been snapping pictures of plus-size women in all their naked glory.

He has a show of photographs of obese women on view at the R. Michelson Galleries in Northampton, Mass., through June; a larger show at the gallery is scheduled to coincide with the November publication of his book on the subject, “The Full Body Project,” from Five Ties Publishing. The Louis Stern Fine Arts gallery in Los Angeles and the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston have acquired a few images from the project. A few hang at the Bonni Benrubi Gallery in New York. (Their explicitness prevents the images from being reprinted here.)

These women are not hiding beneath muumuus or waving from the bottom of the Grand Canyon à la Carnie Wilson in early Wilson Phillips videos. They are fleshy and proud, celebrating their girth, reveling in it. It is, Mr. Nimoy says, a direct response to the pressure women face to conform to a Size 2.

“The average American woman, according to articles I’ve read, weighs 25 percent more than the models who are showing the clothes they are being sold,” Mr. Nimoy said, his breathing slightly labored by allergies and a mild case of emphysema. “So, most women will not be able to look like those models. But they’re being presented with clothes, cosmetics, surgery, diet pills, diet programs, therapy, with the idea that they can aspire to look like those people. It’s a big, big industry. Billions of dollars. And the cruelest part of it is that these women are being told, ‘You don’t look right.’ ”

Mr. Nimoy, who divides his time among homes in New York and Los Angeles and on Lake Tahoe, in California, admits that before he began this project, it had never occurred to him that beauty might be culture driven, that a fat body in Africa is treated quite differently from one in the United States. “In some cultures their weight is a sign of affluence: their husbands can afford to feed them well,” he noted.

His enlightenment came about eight years ago, when he had been showing pictures from his Shekhina series — sensual, provocative images of naked women in religious Jewish wear — at a lecture in Nevada. Afterward, a 250-pound woman approached him and asked if he wanted to take pictures of her, a different body type. He agreed, and she came to the studio at his Tahoe house. She arrived with all sorts of clothes and props, “as if she were playing a farmer’s wife in a butter commercial,” he said.

His wife, Susan, who was assisting him, said, “No, we want to shoot nude.” So the model removed her clothing and lay down on the table. At first Mr. Nimoy was very nervous, he said.

“The nudity wasn’t the problem,” he said, “but I’d never worked with that kind of a figure before. I didn’t quite know how to treat her. I didn’t want to do her some kind of injustice. I was concerned that I would present this person within the envelope of an art form.”

But soon he relaxed into it, lulled by the clicking of the camera and the woman’s comfort with her body. He placed some of the shots in various exhibitions, and they invariably garnered the most attention. “People always wanted to know: ‘Who is she? How did you come to shoot her? Why? Where? What was it all about?’ ”

He decided to pursue the subject further and was led to Heather MacAllister, the founder and artistic director of Big Burlesque and the Fat Bottom Revue, a troupe of plus-size female performers in San Francisco. Ms. MacAllister died in February of ovarian cancer, but something she said to Mr. Nimoy in one of their first meetings struck a chord. “ ‘Any time a fat person gets on a stage to perform and is not the butt of a joke — that’s a political statement,’ ” he recalled. “I thought that was profound.”

Initially, he was interested in replicating Herb Ritts’s popular image of a group of nude supermodels clustered together on the floor, and a Helmut Newton diptych of women clothed and then unclothed in the identical pose. Ms. MacAllister and some of her friends agreed to be his subjects. He then posed the women to simulate Matisse’s “Dance” and Marcel Duchamp’s “Nude Descending a Staircase.”

The responses have ranged from joy to horror. One formerly obese woman said the photos terrified her; she said they recalled a picture she kept in her wallet as a reminder of her former self. Other women have thanked Richard Michelson, the Northampton gallery owner, for displaying the images, and even asked if Mr. Nimoy wanted to photograph them.

“I am actually amazed at how little negative reaction there has been,” said Mr. Michelson. “I attribute this in part to the gallery setting, and the fact that Northampton, Massachusetts, is perhaps the most liberal city in the most liberal state in the nation.”

“We do overhear some reductive ‘Is Nimoy into fat chicks’ comments when the gallery room is first entered,” he continued, “but in fact the fun nature of the work and the quality seem to shut people up by the time they leave. I’ve had a few crank e-mails with snide remarks, but not a one from gallery visitors.”

The Big Fat Blog, a Web site devoted to fat acceptance, wrote about Mr. Nimoy’s photographs in 2005. A woman calling herself Nellicat wrote in response: “I’m 5’5" and weigh between 130 and 135. But I don’t feel as comfortable in my own skin as I should. I look at those women strutting, posing, laughing, and I feel real envy towards them. There they are, posing for a man (!) knowing that the whole world will be able to see them naked (!!) and they are LOVING it. Oh, to be that free! To be that comfortable and beautiful in your body — I truly envy them.”

Though most people think of performers as naturally more unabashed than the rest of us, Ms. MacAllister said it is sometimes difficult for them, too. “We get scared and struggle w/self-acceptance and self-love just like you,” she posted on the blog at the time. “Just want you to know that ‘freedom is not free’; the freedom you see us enjoying is the result of constant hard work and eternal vigilance against the ‘tyranny of slenderness.’ ”

Mr. Nimoy was born in Boston to Russian Jews; he speaks and reads Yiddish. He began acting at 8, but his big break came at 17, when he was cast as Ralphie in a Boston production of Clifford Odets’s “Awake and Sing.” In 1966, he landed a gig on a little television show called “Star Trek,” which ran for only three seasons but would resonate for decades. He spent two seasons on “Mission Impossible” and in 1971 went to U.C.L.A. to study photography. He didn’t graduate, but he has a master’s in education and an honorary doctorate from Antioch College. He hasn’t acted since 1990, choosing to devote himself to art collecting, voiceover work and various philanthropic endeavors, including an artists’ foundation he and his wife run.

Most people know him as Mr. Spock, the terminally rational Vulcan with the famous hand signal. (The signal, which he said was his design, is actually rooted in Judaism. It represents the Hebrew letter “shin,” the first letter in the word Shaddai, which means God.)

In 2002, he published a book of photographs entitled “The Shekhina Project.” Shekhina is the feminine aspect of God; the photographs are sensual, erotic images of women draped in phylacteries, religious garments typically worn by Jewish males. The pictures were very controversial within the Jewish community: some people objected to the nudity, while others were offended by women in traditionally male garb. On the latter point, Mr. Nimoy said that he was not the first to put forth the idea. “There are historical writings of famous Jewish women, daughters of rabbis, who have done that,” he said.

He expects his second book to provoke an equally strong reaction, though he hopes the audience will gain a new perspective on the issue and learn something.

As for whether people will think he has a fetish, he said he can’t help that. “I just have no way of dealing with that,” he said with a laugh. “People will think what they’re going to think. I understand that.”

And what of his own attitude toward fat women?

“I do think they’re beautiful,” he said. “They’re full-bodied, full-blooded human beings.”

He doesn’t necessarily find them sexually attractive. “But I do think they’re beautiful.”

Blooker Award!

Congratulations to Brian for another cool award for Mom's Cancer!

http://pwbeat.publishersweekly.com/blog/2007/05/16/moms-cancer-wins-blooker/#respond

Don't forget

This Saturday is Free Comic Day! Take yourself and/or a kid to your local store...

Hey Cinderella

Ah, we heart Carlos Carrasco.

Just working on beefing up a scene of his in "Pistoleras," and felt the urge to share some work of his from the cult hit "Blood in, Blood Out." Don't worry boys, it cuts out right before he demands some chun chun. Popeye is one scary mofo.

"Vehemently opposed to the corrupt and oppressive Empire"

Multiple Geekogasms.

First of all, look at Tony Stark's threads. They cast Robert Downey Jr., then Stan Winston designs this shell. Rock it hard, boys. High, high hopes for Iron Man.

Next up, you ask? Oh, nothing big. Just rumors from Scully about a FREAKING X-FILES MOVIE. Oh. My. God. Miss Gillian, do not tease us bards who have waited to sing of this day. The Fox lawsuit has settled, last I heard, so Carter and Co, gear up! Yes, we know you were right about the government conspiracies, bees dying and all of it, all along. Now let's see what Carter has to say about Bush.

Third, Sideshow Collectibles is rocking us again with a lovely Princess Leia in battle mode. I really really really like their description of her. Sometimes when I wonder how the eff I am who/what I am, I need a reminder...

Fourth, in the REBEL ALLIANCE zone...Rage Against the Machine's reunion performance at Coachella was Earth-shattering. We need them. We need them come to us now at the turn of the tide...

All kinds of wrongness

For your enjoyment. We love it anyway.


The disturbment quotient is upped if you've seen "Death Proof."

Overheard

Nurse Sis loves this site. There were some gems today.

Someone tell Superman...

Kryptonite has been found on Earth...

The new Joker

Hmmmnnn...I hate to agree with Aint it Cool talkbackers, but he does look like a weird cross between Ichi the Killer and The Crow, when what he should look like is the Joker. The Joker came first, dammit, and he's only the most revered comic villain ever. It's hard to get better than a brilliant sociopath who's unpredictable and completely dedicated to bringing Batman's hypocrisy down.

I'm curious what my nineteen-year-old nieces would say, though. I bet they'll like it, growing up on Heath Ledger movies and with Emo in fashion. Guess they're the real market, and that us codgers are never going to see The Killing Joke onscreen.



UPDATE: It's a fake.

Wow, it's probably not going to be that far off, though. I like Heath Ledger as an actor in other projects, but I don't get the idea of casting someone so humorless and pretty model boy.

It's just all wrong, unless they make him monstrous with the makeup. Even then, I feel like that brooding, dour, emo spirit is going to shine through the latex. I mean, can you picture Heath Ledger hysterically laughing? Hysterically crying with a daisy in one hand and a Longfellow poem in the other, but laughing with psychotic glee as he rapes and paralyzes your daughter??? Or would you still invite him over for dinner afterwards. His hair is only a little green after all, and he still has those wounded Heathcliff puppy dog eyes...

The two things The Joker absolutely can't be are likeable and hot.

I'm so confused...

Pop that champagne

Congrats to Brian for another well-deserved two (count 'em, two!!!) Eisner nominations for Mom's Cancer. Very cool. Even if the categories sound made up. :)

Really, God?

Could we call a moratorium on you killing people I love, and me finding out about it way after the fact?

I'm just ruined over this.



The only good thing at all about reading his obits was at least CNN thought to interview Gore Vidal instead of K-Fed or some other public cypher.


"I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center."

"The year was 2081, and everyone was finally equal."

"Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward."
– Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007)

Will Ferrell Movie Plot Generator

Totally worth a click.

Huckabees

I assume you've seen this, but just in case, here's Hollywood:

Green-eyed bunny rabbits

You guys know that every year, I have a movie or two that make me ill wishing I'd been a part of it. Last fall it was "Special", last year it was "Brick", the year before "Thumbsucker" and "Mean Creak". And before that it was "All the Real Girls".

I distinctly remember these experiences. They leave that bitter taste of failure in my mouth, where I recognize brilliance and regret it almost could have come from me. My indie price range, a distinctive voice, some truth I gel with...and I shift around in my theatre seat, cursing myself. Same reason I don't want to go to the ballet again. FAILURE.


Okay, so this is getting pathetic...now I'm down to a MOMENT I envy...



Today I saw "Blades of Glory". I haven't laughed that hard in a theatre since I saw "There's Something About Mary." I had a hell of a good time. Until they played Queen's "Flash Gordon" theme.

God dammit Baby Jesus, why on your birthday? Flash Gordon was the first album I ever bought, and as GENIUS as it was to have it be the final couples routine for "Blades of Glory", I wish I'd been the filmmaker who got to use it first...

Please, please stop

So I'm having a lovely Easter brunch/movie day with a gfriend of mine who's going into production on a million dollar film she's directing. And she wants to cast this amazing older actress from the 80s-90s (NONE of your business who. Really.). But she CAN'T because the poor lady has had some bad plastic surgery.

And I'm thinking, after seeing the amazing au naturale Julie Christie last night in "Away From Her"...are women still their worst enemy?

I mean, everyone says there are no good roles for women over forty, and they HAVE to keep up with the Joneses by having plastic surgery but...this is not the first time I've heard this story. I have other gfriends desperate to cast the icons from their youth, but they have to actually schedule a meeting to see what Frankenstein creature is going to walk in.

Question of the Day

If people think of me as Catwoman, is it wrong for me to date a European man nicknamed Thor? Or can those two worlds collide? You know, the Asgardian God of the Marvel Universe, and D.C,'s lawless, uncatchable trickster.

Love her even more

Geeks will rule the world

Look how purtyMary from 24 is in the new Geek Monthly issue:

Humble Apologies

I'm knee-deep in moving boxes, and stressed out of my gourd.

I like my new place, but tossing out my deceased family's things yet again is painful. Urgh. I keep thinking about the Japanese, and how they honor the memory of their ancestors WITHOUT holding onto material things...lighten the load, lighten the load...

Then there's the little matter that I'm moving out of the last place I shared with both mom and Calliope (my cat who taught me about Fishies...) And that my new place doesn't even allow dogs to visit, so I'm losing Hero, too...(Nurse Sis will have full custody).

More pain! Grrrr...argh!

The REAL Secret

Best tip ever. I'm one of those gals who's tried evvvery diet and exercise program. And I have NEVER seen results like this. Tae Bo and/or the Atkins diet were close, but felt like EFFORT.

But Pilates...this is a lifetime change.

Here's the scoop. I've been doing Mari Winsor's DVD tapes 5 days a week for 3 weeks. I feel like a completely different person. Dropped a size. And this week, three friends gasped, called me skinny, and asked me what I was doing. It actually works, my back feels BETTER, and I don't notice the time passing while I'm doing it.

Here's the skinny:

Started on February 26th. Did the 2001 Beginning 20 minute tape, five days a week.
Second week: alternated daily between Beginning and Advanced tapes (2001 sereies). Advance tape is 50 minutes.
Third week: Ditto.

My friend/producing partner Heidi started doing Pilates in a gym five months ago...she's now down to her dream weight and only does two 20 minute workouts, twice a week at home to maintain.

Tapestry

Wil Wheaton has published his personal Tapestry story on his blog. (That's the number one fan favorite episode of ST:TNG (Star Trek: The Next Generation).)

Enjoy! Wil Wheaton's Tapestry

Putting on the geek cape today, aren't I?

Peace

Damn it's good to be a cylon

For the 3 readers out there who watch Battlestar Galactica, here's the Season 3 Gag Reel. Stay til the end to hear the closing song.



By the way, news on Jane Espenson's blog. She's been promoted to BSG's Co-Executive Producer. That's sort of a good news/bad news situation for us. Clearly, the show's taken a dive this season...Classic case of David and Ron's interest in other projects (Caprica) making them less involved. Bringing on a CEP backs up this suspicion. The good news is, Jane is aces. So maybe our last season, with only 13 episodes (sniff*) will be all sandwich and no spam (and a little less on the nose, please gods?). Either way, won't know until January 2008.

Run, Don't Walk

Ah, it's all true. The Korean horror film The Host is abolutely spectacular, even with needing a 20 minute trim.

Get your ass to a theatre before you read a review or see a trailer that spoils all the fun.




This film is on par with Tremors and Sean of the Dead, and you know how often one of those exhilerating masterpieces comes along.



BSG LIVE:
10:10 PM. Oops. Don't think Baltar's going to buy "We accidentally killed your lawyer." Though it's pretty unbelievable Laura wouldn't airlock his ass.

Don't you love the way Sam said "Apollo"? Almost made up for not being able to cry on cue for Kara. Ah, poor Sam. Methinks we shan't be seeing him anymore.

Check it out

Look at what my Pistoleras co-producer just forwarded me! I'm ordering one now! I love that it's by the author of The Burning Times.

Also, The View ran an hour special on clinical depression in women today. Really fabulous. I'm on an anti-depressant and it saved my life, too. It's funny, people give Oprah so much credit for changing the world, but Rosie's on the frontline doing some fabulous work as well. I hope someone puts this whole episode on YouTube.

"We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains."- Ursula Le Guin

The hit list

Entertainment Weekly has a fun column that often makes me giggle. Here are two items from this week:

Studio 60's Amanda Peet has baby girl
It walked swiftly from her womb and down a hallway, riffing on school prayer.

Bijou Phillips nude, beheaded on movie poster
Once you're at "post-post-post-feminist," I think you can just shorthand it to "misogynist."

Oh, love it!

UPDATE:

Here's the poster. Not safe for work.

For the writers out there

http://jdeguzman.livejournal.com/239081.html

Zero Tolerance

The user rules of this blog clearly state posting with your contact info. Any future anonymous postings will be deleted. I have no interest in the opinions of cowards and rude people emboldened by the misconception that I don't know who they are.

My blog, my rules, my safe community for the readers I enjoy. Nothing's changed.

Ay, there be the contact strip

Writer/Director Rian Johnson (Brick) has an eccentric site that, among other fresh oddities, features a twice-BabelFished version of Hamlet's soliloquy.

I'm a big fan of Brick. Don't rent it at your own entertainment peril.

Currently watching the Korean film Tell Me Something, at the behest of Charles Y. Is it possible to make a good film built of cliched detective scenes? Not sure yet. Will let you know at the end. Love love love that they're objectifying men as the serial killer victims. I'm going to do that someday, but it can't be my first two films or I'll be burned at the stake.

Wonder how much money they spent on gallons of blood. We're approaching Kubrick territory here.

"You're always welcome in one of my beds"

Sh*t you not, I was just about to give up on tonight's Battlestar Galactica episode. This was the conversation in my head:

"Christ. Another effing SPEC episode. Who gives a rat's ass about all these new crew members? I could write a better spec episode. Maybe I should watch it. Hell, why am I the only one bitching about this season of BSG? Is there something wrong with me that I just can't get into it? What do I want? I mean, I'm not some shipper, but at this point the only thing that would make me watch would be Adama and Roslin having some dirty toaster....DID ADAMA JUST SAY "YOU'RE ALWAY WELCOME IN ONE OF MY BEDS??????"

Ufh. More pleasure out of that sentence and Madame President's priceless reaction than in the whole Oscar telecast. OMG that was good. Now I've got to stay up watch the rest of the episode.

How much you want to bet that line was Ms. Jane "effin" Espenson rocking the starship? I think it was.

Have I mentioned lately I want to be Roslin when I grow up? I think I will be. I'll make myself some Roslin/Mirren combo that all the boys want to take orders from. How fun would that would be?

"Go ahead. Take him away. That's it....I'm thinking of having a good-old-fashioned book burning."

Eff yeah, Roslin.

DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR:
I had a moment during the "Woman King" episode where I wondered if the screenwriter read my blog.

FAMOUS PEOPLE'S DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR:
Do the people who win the Oscars think the people who lost don't have God on their side? Would they still thank God if they lost? Would that still be his will? Fully expected Jennifer Hudson to spout that elitist mumbo jumbo, but Forest? Sigh.

Roslin torturning Baltar right now. OMG. "I'm dying to read the ending...Gentleman proceed..." There's Six. "Perhaps you'll consider writing a blurb for my cover."

Beautiful. Nothing makes me happier than kick-ass storytelling.

"Extortion is not an acceptable form of protest...Chief. Uh-uh. We're done."

Beautiful.

Only 18 more hours...

Until my bfriend Jack Bauer saves the world again. He's so effin' dreamy for a Truth and Justice gal like me.

In the meantime, amuse thyself with the antics of the criminally insane over at stalwart Blogs 4 Bauer. Particularly amused today by the Point/Counterpoint column with Stewie Grifith and Luke Skywalker about the senior Bauer and his dark side. I say, if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.

Perfect moment

Mom picked me up from school every day in the grey station wagon. Its motor had a distinctive sound. I could always pick it out before it came into view, rounding the circular driveway and passing the other moms' cars to pull up to the curb alongside me.

I was proud of the car. It was a new Datsun Maxima, and it spoke. A woman's voice would tell you if the door was open, or remind you to fasten your seatbelt. That was cool. Not as cool as Kit, the talking Trans Am on Knight Rider that had full, sentient conversations...but still cool enough to impress my classmates at St. Eugene's. That was good, because there wasn't much else they liked about me.

Every day I would see Mom driving the car around the circle at 2:45, her big Jackie O sunglasses perched on the ethnic nose she hated and tried to hide. If prayers could transform flesh, my Mom would have had a ski nose.

I would jump into the car, greet my mother, and turn to the back where my dog Turbo was waiting to greet me. Soft fur, softer heart, big kind eyes that let me know I was wanted and loved.

We would pull out onto Farmer's Lane after the traffic cleared, and Mom would ask me about my day. Or sometimes we would turn up KZST and just listen to the radio, discussing our favorite music. On the very best days, Billy Vera and the Beaters would be playing.

What would you think...

The sad song from Family Ties when Alex P. Keaton's soulmate Ellen, the liberal girl with the heart gold, left him for being a jerk.

Mom loved that song. It brought out all her drama queen tendencies. She would crank up the volume, something she otherwise hated because of her noise sensitivity, and she would bring her right hand up off the steering wheel, twist it into a fist and shove it to her face to sing. She would rarely make a noise, but she mimed passionately; head lolling, eyes furrowed.

...With tears in your eyes...

I would follow along, giggling, though lip-synching was too hard for me. I'd always end up leaning in next to her microphone hand, singing at half-voice.

...Trying to tell me you've found you another...

Turbo in the backseat would raise his head to sniff the wind, and bark along.

...And you just don't love me no more.

The song would end with a big, dramatic flourish, and we would sigh and turn down the volume, knowing it had been a good trip home.

Poor Little Rich Girl

I feel really bad. She was crying out for help the whole time, and instead the nation laughed at her.

Amazing

Check out this footage on Spiderman 3. Can't wait!

http://www.aintitcool.com/node/31482

Hey!

What's your favorite X-Files episode?

I'm watching "Pusher" again, and I think that might be it. No mythology, just classic moments for each character, great dialogue and storytelling, and a cool cool villain.

Cerulean blue.

Decaffeinated

I'm always trying to find an alternative to water that is sugar free and unleaded. In case you are, too, here are my two latest favs. Delicious, and in the medium-price range.

African Red Tea


Red tea is supposedly all sorts of good for the body. I first had this at the Ole Henriksen salon and loved it so much, I was convinced it would be out of my price range. Lucky me, only $5 for 20 bags.






Republic of Tea

This Daily Green Tea Honey Ginseng is sugar free, and helps me when I get that sweet tooth urge. The honey flavor really comes through. $9 for 50 bags.