After workshopping this character for well over a year at the Magnet Theater and other places, the trailer for Mike Myers' new flick, "The Love Guru" was finally unveiled on television last night and...
I'm not one to quickly dismiss a film based primarily on an ill conceived trailer, but after his adventurous Magnet shows and a somewhat interesting interaction between Myers and Deepak Chopra on the deliriously self-fellating "Iconoclasts"-
...it seemed as if Myers might have possibly turned a new creative leaf, maybe possibly hitting that intriguing and erudite elderstatesman period that comedians like Murray and Martin matured into.
Boy I was fucking wrong.
Sir Ben Kingsley, "Weeds" Romany Malco, "TDS" correspondents Samantha Bee & John Oliver, and hell, even a cameo by the great Rob Huebel starring alongside...Jessica Alba, Jessica Simpson, Justin Timberlake, and Verne Troyer? (Has Myers' formally adopted this guy?)
With an all-star schlock fest like that, it makes me pine for smaller, yet equally crappy films...
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
My people do what they do best...again...exploiting a miniscule amount of worldwide fanfare for an attempt at fifteen more seconds of fame.
Have I mentioned how much I hate my people?
Inmates Do Soulja Boy and Hammer - Watch more free videos
I'm not the biggest Will Ferrell fan, but seeing him make a mockery of the walking hyperbole that is Bill Walton brings me a smidgeon of joy.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Oh my, it's that time. Finale episodes are so epic that it takes two weeks to get it all done. It's so epic that in my mind it transcends numbers and will now be listed with letters. It's that HUGE.
This week starts with the remaining designers drinking it up on the roof of their hotel. Afterwards they all leave voicing concerns about what lies ahead.
Then we get to see Saint Tim visiting all the designers in their respective homes to see their collections. It's like returning home without ever leaving your house.
He starts out in New York City with Christian. He has a studio where he lives and works in his own apartment. He sleeps on a pull out bed in a hallway. He is living in modern New York. What we were shown is how most kids living in New York without mommy and daddy footing the bill actually live. Christian first worked in hair and then went into fashion going overseas to study for a year. I'm in love with this 21 year-old kid that creates a whole lot of look. All he needs to do is make the judges love him as much as Nina loves Rami.
He moves on to boring Jillian in her New York pad. She shows him more jackets and I sit back yawning. She apparently decided that she had no time to think up a new concept for her designs and continued the last challenge's art inspiration. Her entire design is based upon Spanish military art. Way to be boring and repetitive, Jillian. The only thing exciting is the trip to Long Island to visit her rather human family. They look like any other typical New York family that it's bringing Jillian into an entirely new light for me. Her mother seems like something I could find near my old high school in Brooklyn.
Rami lives in Los Angeles in a typical Roman inspired house. We meet his two best friends. In your face Jillian, Rami has a female best friend and she isn't you! The picture they showed of Rami's mother looks just like Rami in drag. How hilarious.... oh shit she's dead. Let's, uh, scratch that hilarious part. Rami doesn't design in his home. Fuck that, He has a phenomenal studio. His collection was inspired by Joan of Arc. Tim says one of his designs was a heavy effin' coat. I love Tim Gunn.
Both Rami and Chris aren't too keen on the idea of competing against each other to be in the finale but I could care less. I mean we all know Rami is going to win it, because Chris' ideas aren't your regular ideas. Rami is more of a traditional designer and who are we kidding, Nina is not going to be happy if Rami isn't in the final three.
All four designers begin their trek to Fashion Week and their finale hotel. Instead of lumping all four designers into one room, they've split it up. The competing two in one room, and the actual two in the other. Rami and Jillian continue their love affair. I'm sure once Rami gets in he'll get put in the two bedroom with Jillian so they can braid her hair and talk gossip.
So Tim shows up and ruins the happy-fest the designers were having in their new work rooms and tells them that the Chris and Rami show off would be happening today. They got to choose a fellow designer as a helper. Of course Rami chose Jillian and Chris and Christian fell once again into each other's arms.
Rami chose three different styles to show off how diverse his collection was. Chris chose three outfits that included the aforementioned human hair. Yes, the human hair that Tim told Chris made him gag. Chris obviously didn't get that the only way he was going to get into Fashion Week was if he tricked the judges. For fuck's sake Chris, you couldn't throw together three pieces that were in the least bit streamlined and tailored to the judges likes.
They showed their pieces and the judges oohed and ahhed over everything. In the end Rami, of course, made it to fashion week. Chris started to make the tears and thanked everyone. In the back room everyone hugged Chris while Rami stood there smiling like an insensitive jackass.
Chris makes a joke about how all of this happened before and we all laughed with our hearts on our sleeves.
Rami said that he was experimenting with different styles to show them that he could do more than draping yet all of his pieces featured draping in some sort. Nina didn't care she just wanted Rami-poo to do so well. She fucking loves all the shit that man creates. You can just tell that if Rami were to create a statue out of his own feces Nina wouldn't be able to bluntly tell him it sucks. She would gracefully meander outside the insult working to a peacefully love-induced ending.
Chris' designs were goth-tastic. Nina fucking loved that shit. Haha, oh Nina. Who knew she was such a freak in the head?
Heidi with bangs = eh?
Nina with bangs = Hot DDDDDamn, Nina.
You can tell that Nina is in love with Rami Kashou. She tried to give him insults but it just came off like a mommy lovingly telling her child to stop.
Nina's eyes lit up with hatred tinged glee when Chris told the judges that he used human hair.
Kors tried to steal Nina's thunder by saying that Chris' model looked as though she was in a velvet condom. Nina stole it back with her love of Chris' designs. Took that shit RIGHT BACK!
So in the end the designer everyone knew was going to win won and poor Chris was left out in the cold. Needless to say this episode was completely pointless.
Dear Bravo TV and ProRun Executives,
Stop making us watch useless television and show us the finale in one night like you did in previous seasons. There is no need to stretch something out making your viewers upset by the lack of an underdog win in this "final" Auf-ing.
Thanks for listening,
That being said, here's a final goodbye to our lovable Chris March. May he continue to amuse those surrounding him and make money doing the thing he loves to do. Adieu!
Master of sensual subtlety Mariah Carey returns with the first single off her new album "E=MC²" with "Touch My Body," a romp through a mansion featuring the soon-to-be 38 year-old in various teenage boy fantasy motifs (skin tight laser tag, Catholic school girl frisbee, dining room race cars, a unicorn?, etc.) with the forever young 34 year-old improv master and "30 Rock" page Jack McBrayer.
The pretentious asshole in me would usually say something snide about Carey, but she's held up pretty well (however natural she may or may not be) and compared to recent releases by her contemporaries, her mediocrity is more bearable than embarassing, and any pub for "30 Rock" peeps is good pub in my book. (Though somehow I have a feeling a large number of Carey fans will just think of McBrayer as a standard white-boy geek.)
In light of this slight music/comedy pairing, I've run down some musician/comedian combos (somehow I subconsciously think I've seen something like this on "Pop-Up Video" but I digress):
Paul Simon: "You Can Call Me Al" I used to really like this video as a kid, because of years of listening to my folks' "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" cassette and thinking Paul Simon was kinda cool. For some reason I thought Chevy Chase was a douche, maybe because I didn't like "Fletch," but long before learning of his exploits on SNL.
Natalie Imbruglia: "Torn" Okay, it's not really a music video, but a live performance featuring British comedian David Armand doing an interpretative dance. It's an odd pairing, but I happen to like Armand's work with the "the Hollow Men" and the man deserves some pub.
Travis: "Closer" I once went out with someone who claimed that "Travis was the greatest band in the world" and absolutely loved this video for some inate reason. She also seemed to always crack up when Ben Stiller appeared on screen momentarily, even though she knew he was coming, as if on cue. God that made me sad...but boy was she cute.
Chris Martin: "Fix You" I love the UK "Office." I love Ricky Gervais. I cannot love Chris Martin or forgive him for the atrocious "X&Y". And while "Extras" has had its moments (Daniel Radcliffe's vulgarity being the peak) it's been hard to not be overwhelmingly underwhelmed by "Extras" complete and total dependence on guest celebrities willing to poke fun at themselves. And no, I'm not havin' a laugh.
Michael Jackson: "You Rock My World" Chris Tucker. Marlon Brando. Michael Madsen. In Michael Jackson's big comeback record. Wow. It's good to see that since the successes of "the Fifth Element," "Friday," and " Rush Hour," Tucker was able to parlay that success into starring roles in...uh..."Rush Hour 2"...and...uh, "Rush Hour 3." Hmm. Either Tucker is a genius waiting for that next great project, or he has absolutely no concept of striking while the iron is hot/lukewarm.
Dave Matthews Band: "Everyday" Judah Friedlander, another "30 Rock" cast member doing his Dave Matthews-earnest-best. Great stand up and actor in "American Splendor" ; sadly I doubt many Dave Matthews fans are making the connection between "the fat hug guy" and the "fat 30 Rock writer guy."
Bobby McFerrin: "Don't Worry, Be Happy" As a child, I used to really like Robin Williams. He was wild, crazy, frenetic and seemingly endless fun. Just didn't seem to have an off switch. Yet as I got older, what's fun and charming as a child is annoying/borderline sadly reminscent of a crackhead in withdrawal. Though he seems like he'd still be a pretty cool uncle.
Paula Abdul: "Straight Up" Arsenio Hall was the shit. I remember staying up late on school nights just to see "the Arsenio Hall Show" just because it seemed like the cool thing to do. Watching the show for the first time was probably my first recognition of how spectacularly uncool I was for 1) not being Black, 2) not knowing much about hip-hop, and 3) not being able to properly execute the "Humpty Hump." Oh yeah, Paula Abdul in '91 was pretty freaking hot.
God...don't you miss the days when actors/comedians appearing in music videos seemed to be an obligatory right of celebrity passage?
Yeah, I don't either.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
When I was six years old, I remember buying my first book ever from the Scholastic Book Club, a monthly book club targeted towards parochial elementary schools hoping to milk money from naive students as schools and teachers reaped the benefits of free books and other free schwag.
And that first book was
Definitely not on the same level as Encyclopedia Brown, but at six, I thought I was being pretty sophisticated. (Somehow I rationalized that my reading "Garfield" made me more mature than those that read Dr. Seuss, cause Garfield was in the newspaper...God, I was a sad, lonely child.)
As I grew older, I also started to question the reality of the strips- since Garfield spoke via thought bubbles, did Jon actually hear him? Or was Jon, like most pet owners, merely projecting a personality that he could live vicariously though? (I was pretty deep for a nine year-old.)
This brings me to the brilliant Garfield Minus Garfield, which posits the idea that by removing the fat cat, "Garfield" becomes a funny and somber exploration of mental illness.
If at first you do succeed, try, try, and try till you suck it bone dry.
I actually like Banks and Rogen, but please God, let this be the end. (Sidenote: Kevin Smith still makes attempts at relevant films?)
Monday, February 25, 2008
Yet another fun way to not work while at work.
Somehow I can't help but think that playing with Sufjan would be just as fun.
Fool us once, shame on us, fool us twice, shame on you...
Saturday, February 23, 2008
For those amped up for the Oscars and crossing their fingers for a "Juno"-rific upset in the Best Picture category, yet another nugget of backlash goodness:
Sidenote: Taking one's little brother to see "4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days" is a recipe for life scarring disaster that will only leave you feeling guilty and pissed that you had to take him to see "Juno" again just so the image of a dead Romanian fetus doesn't linger in his mind.
Friday, February 22, 2008
(Courtesy of thepiratehat's Flickr)
Let's make this quick:
-Dave Hill is hilarious, wonderful, and brings me joy when few others can. (though tonight he seemed a little rusty/flat; maybe it was the few weeks off or something, but the "Explosion" didn't bring as much heat as it usually does.)
-Amy Sedaris is a diabetic nightmare dipped in honey. I would undergo a dangerously experimental procedure to have her babies I love her that much. (although her googly-eyes craft was a Conan-retread, anything with that little lady is a-okay in my book)
-Bob Mould seems like a cool guy to have a beer with. (I'm not the biggest Hüsker Dü fan, but he was an interesting interview, were it not for his impromptu slightly indicpherable, feedback ridden performance.)
-Beloved UCB tech Pat Baer is the sweetest, coolest guy is the whole world, but don't you dare go way over a half hour over your allotted time...or feel his wrath.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
It's official: McCain is just like almost every man in a position of power.
In Other News:
...Gennifer Flowers claims Vicki Iseman is a fraud, and that she slept with McCain first. Tell-all book to follow...
...New York Times puts liberal bias repellent ponchos on, as conservative shit storm looms...
...NYT staff prepare move to Star and US Weekly affliates...
...Bill Clinton enraged at McCain camp's blatant attempt to steal from his '92 playbook...
...Arthur Sulzberger Jr. deflects claims of attempting to profit from scandal with his free NYT site...
And once again... America chooses an adulterous white man fearing the possible dangerous changes an African American with a Muslim name and a masculine white woman would pose to the free world...
"Witless Protection" opens at number 1...
...and all is right with the world.
While I may have been one of the many tempted to partake in a pseudo-national holiday, I have yet to delete my long dormant MySpace page, relegating it to the vast interweb dust bin reserved for all the Xangas, Friendsters, and other remnants of the dial-up world.
My page's execution will be staved off for at least one more week, as I rejoice in the free streaming of El Perro Del Mar's new album on her MySpace page for only one week.
So enjoy it now and await it's April 22 stateside release (yes, I know- I actually pay for music I like).
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Baby Boy won Fan Favorite!!!
That is all. Please return to your regularly scheduled sleep.
Usually when a team fights to overcome a 9 point deficit to tie a game with less than a minute left, the fighting involves the other team.
The New York Isiah Thomases are of course the exception:
Someone please bring back the balding wonder, please?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The Crunk Juice has finally run dry.
As a former intern at TVT, I wish the best for all the great people, from the receptionists to the delivery guys, to the execs and promotion people that busted their asses in making that company work.
But for all the self absorbed assholes who shat on everyone because of a few minor hits and the most minute amount of notoriety...ha...ha. A profanity-laced tirade was well in the works, but it just didn't seem right to kick a dog while it's down. I'll let Trent Reznor do that. Still...putang ina mo. (Let's see someone try diciphering that.)
My favorite photo of the Crunk Master exploiting the oddest cross promotional relationship between black music and a Canadian sport ever...
And my favorite terribly named "alternative-hardcore-punk-pop-crap rock" TVT band Bobaflex doing a surprisingly spirited cover of the Jackson 5's "I Want You Back."
(Moment of silence as Kristin Cavallari pours a little Crunk Juice on the sidewalk.)
Finally someone doesn't succumb to peer pressure or the possibility of shaming someone in front of a large public audience:
http://view.break.com/453711 - Watch more free videos
Seeing this last week finally made owning an NBA League Pass worth it...
Monday, February 18, 2008
The end of civilization. It has to be.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
I LOVED this game as a kid and now here's a YouTube video going through the entire game. The guy narrating is the grown up version of my younger brother. He's actually in the room opposite of me right now talking just like that guy. Hilarious and sad at the same time.
It seems easy now but I can assure you back when I was playing it that game sure was hard.
Friday, February 15, 2008
For la dame...
Someone actually makes a genuine case for Super Joe McEwing to be considered for the Hall of Fame.
Complete with video tribute, sometimes a little sweetness at the end of a long week goes a long way...(that ends my mandatory moment of sentiment for the year.)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
While whitling away the remnants of one's youth meandering behind a cubicle/office/register/barista/steering wheel/bong lamenting your last failed relationship/sexual transaction, here are a few ways to get through the day:
PostScript. Yes, this site's long passed it's cache coolness after becoming packaged and processed for conglomerate bookstore goodness, and it's amassed far more saccharine submissions than thought provoking ones, though days like this were made specifically for sites like this.
Dave Hill's "Dave Hill Explosion" is delightfully delicious, and his forays into love are just as sweet. Next week's "Explosion" features Amy Sedaris. Act like y'all don't wanna go.
Read. Yes, it's probably the least fun option, but losing yourself in a book can be a nice, cost effective way of leaving this world. (or a nice precursor to the eventual binge drinking/drunk dialing that will close out your night.)
For your literary enjoyment:
"I Love You Beth Cooper" Former Simpsons writer Larry Doyle's ode to teenage love is fast paced, engaging, and consistently hilarious. Like a smart man's version of "Say Anything," sans the overplayed Peter Gabriel soundtrack and Cameron Crowe's ball shrinking schmaltz.
"Shortcomings." Adrian Tomine's graphic novel 'novella' is a alluring indictment of cross cultural relationship mores and the haunting reality of perpetual inadequacy compensation. I lost my love of comics somewhere after Spider-Man's "Clone Wars" during preadolescence, but beautifully rendered works like Tomine's have brought me back to the loop. Powerful, beautiful, and short enough to read in one sitting, it still frees you up to do other things today, like test your alcohol poisoning limit.
"Suicide Casanova." Arthur Nersesian is one of my favorite urban writers because of his inate ability to craft humorous, sexually explicit, satirically dramatic stories that perfectly encapsulate the "New York City is full of awesome assholes vibe." Unlike his much more famous "the Fuck-Up," or his equally adventurous "Manhattan Loverboy," "Suicide Casanova" is Nersesian at his dastardly darkest. It's erotica, horror, crime story all rolled into one book, that's always engaging, and at times, disturbingly unnerving. Love/lust, sentimentality/stalking-V-Day seems like a perfect day to bone up on sexual nerosis.
Watch TV...online. (Like TV, except with fewer, albeit tiny, annoying adverts...and it's FREE! Well, ofcourse, not counting how much high speed Internet costs.)
David Wain's "Wainy Days". Catch up on Season 1 and 2-they're short, sweet, and will fill you with that feeling you thought in kindergarten was happiness.
HBO's "In Treatment." Contrived, heavy handed, borderline amateur-pretty much anything and everything has been said about HBO's ambitious 5 nights a week for 9 weeks experiment into the drama that is psychotherapy, but few touch on how shamefully fun it's been watching Gabriel Bryne do his best as the struggling, sexually repressed doc. For those of us that have been in analysis (I love saying I have an analyst; for some reason it makes me feel like I'm in a Woody Allen movie), it's a nice reminder of what is/was; for those who haven't, see what you've been missing lying to yourselves about not needing it. Watch it now online- it's the last week of free episodes.
For those of us that don't want to engage in any activites that involve bright, elaborate colors/movement/shopping, music seems like a nice alternative:
George Jones. I had a professor in college who made us listen to Jones, and related tales of himself and his friends sitting in his living room, drinking till dawn and crying in silence. God, I loved Professor McCourt. Anyway, "If Drinkin' Don't Kill Me (Her Memory Will)" seems like a perfect country opus to serve as an entry point to George Jones newbies.
Eef Barzelay. I'm not the biggest fan of his band Clem Snide, but his solo debut, "Bitter Honey" is a nice soundtrack to sitting in the darkness, enjoying a bottle and watching the sun rise.
Tom Waits. The Michael Jordan of last call lotharios, Waits is the perfect complement to any alcohol/drug/depression/recently dumped-infused evening. The release of Scarlett Johansson's Tom Waits cover album provokes mixed feelings (on one hand I wanna bed her, on the other I don't want my Waits to be violated-Bowie doing Waits?! WTF?) yet in the end, any pub for Mr. Waits, is good pub. Now pop in "Nighthawks at the Diner" close your eyes and let that whiskey linger and burn a little before you swallow. Ah...yum.
Movies are absent from my list, just because it'd be exhaustive expounding on films with artistic merit that lack any semblance of romance or reminders of why one is alone. That, and romantic comedies are fucking evil.
So please, drink, drug, dance, and find some manner in which a single person can enjoy this day of commercial despair. Just don't walk around the city (fucking pseudo-happy couples), don't watch too much porn (blindness and hairy palms are myths; chafing is not), and don't direct the energy of the vast emptiness inside you into pathetic attempts at tasteless humor such as this:
On second thought, maybe going home, sitting in your tub and popping open some veins wouldn't be so bad.
People suck. Do as you wish. And enjoy.
To commemorate the release of Thing's I've Learned From Women Who've Dumped Me, a collection of stories from various writers/comedians on the subject of love, former Onion editor/TDS producer Ben Karlin has filmed a series of live performances at the UCB Theatre, featuring contributors to the book, as well as various local writers pining about the time honored masochist tradition of dating.
Starting off the evening was the houseband for these series of performances, Chris Collingwood and Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne, whose enthusiasm for their rendition of "Bye Bye Love" seemed only equal to their underlying desire to do everything in their power to absolutely not have to play "Stacy's Mom."
Hosting last night's event was noted performer, novelist, boxer and Fiona Apple flame, Jonathan Ames, whose always enjoyable stories of sexual misadventure and animal calls established the perfect NPR/McSweeneys tone.
First up was David Rees, whose story,"Get Dumped Before It Matters" about the importance of missed opportunities to be dumped was fun, though paled in comparison to some of his other work, and lacked the bite of his "Get Your War On."
In place of the scheduled Mindy Kaling, who may have been busy back to work (much to the chagrin of nearby "Office" fans who moaned, "Where's Kelly Kapur?") was writer Syler Klein (I may have her first name wrong as I was distracted by Fountains of Wayne's gleeful performer intros), whose rather long-winded tale of an adulterer who fucked with his socks on felt like a Bratz blog with no punctuation.
Fountains of Wayne then played "Hat and Feet," apparently their only song about being dumped. I believe my attention wandered somewhere after the "I'm just a sitting duck/That ran out of luck" line...
Next was the much anticipated David Wain, whose contribution to the book, "Persistence Is for Suckers," was hilarious and amplified my excitement to see his live performance of it. Sadly, Wain's voice had apparently been recently strained, as evidenced by his dog-dying-like attempt at singing with Fountains of Wayne.
To compensate for his lack of vocal acrobatics, Wain employed every audience member's comedy geekgasm come true: the damn-I'd-definitely-go-gay-for-Paul Rudd, and the always surprisingly sexy Kristen Wiig.
Hearing Rudd say to Wiig "...it's about ten seconds until the New Year, and I hope you're having fun. 5-4-3-2-1 and hey! Suck my cock, bitch! Good bye," elicits the biggest laugh of the night. I think I soiled myself. No...yes, I definitely did.
Last, and definitely least, were members of the band Morningwood, who closed out the night with an original song that completely sucked the atmosphere out of the room.
All in all, Karlin's "Things I've Learned From Women Who've Dumped Me" was a comedy geekgasm success, and well worth the $5 admission price. If you're willing to gut it out on the standby line for the last two shows, it'll well be worth it.