Uch

Now which one's the dog?

Get a fucking clue

Addle-minded Jason Whitlock proposes his solution to the Colorado football sexual assault crisis as follows:

Unfortunately, the real criminal in this whole affair is still lurking around the CU campus and just about every other campus in America. We all know him. Most of us have loved him at one time in our lives. He's so powerful and seductive that we rarely speak against him ... even after he's whipped us to our knees, made our heads spin and throb in pain, and forced us to do unimaginable things we'd never tell our children.

Alcohol.

CU's problems would be solved simply by outlawing the use of alcohol by its athlete-students. Any scholarship athlete caught consuming alcohol and/or failing a randomly-administered breathalyzer test would lose his or her scholarship, permanently. Zero tolerance.

Would the athletes try to sneak and cheat? Absolutely. I'd make them blow into a breathalyzer every morning before class. End of cheating. End of problem.

Getting drunk is the No. 1 sport in college; it's bigger than football and the NCAA Tournament combined. I did it. I could binge-drink with the best of them when I was a college football player at Ball State. Every stupid thing I ever did in college happened as a result of binge-drinking. Luckily, I survived.

I didn't get pinched for beating up a kid at Papa Lou's Chug because he had the audacity to dance with a girl with whom I had flirted in one of my journalism classes. (She got ticked at me and went home with our three-time MAC defensive player of the year.) I never got pinched for drinking and driving, or for walking into Village Pantry with no money and leaving with a sandwich and a drink.

I was a drunken fool, and so were many of my teammates (and classmates). It was stupid and dangerous.

C'mon, Jason. Get real. Prohibition is a silly "you're grounded, go to your room" response to a legitimate problem on campuses and in society. Booze isn't the culprit. Football playing, 'roid popping, entitlement-expecting assholes are the problem. Sure, alcohol can exacerbate the situation. But a bunch of football recruits aren't going to gang rape, date rape, hook up with, jump (call it what you will) co-eds merely because they've been imbibing. Hell, the culture of football breeds an arrogance that feeds their "get what you want, when you want it" attitude and expectations.

I was a binge-drinking fool while I was in college (and last night, for that matter) and so were most of my friends. Guess what? Alcohol didn't make me try to rape anyone. Or shoplift. Or get into a fight. Bad things happened to all of us, sure. But none of them came close to felonies. Alcohol made me sick. On many occasions. Many. Many. And, yes, I drove when I absolutely had no business behind the wheel of a car. But guess what?

Underlying the .2 BAC, I'm not a reprobate or an aggressive asshole (superficial as hell, yeah . . . but that's a whole other post), while a significant number of these football players and recruits are. And that's year-in and year-out, on campuses across the country. Sure, you may be a nice guy now (not a great writer, but a nice guy nonetheless), but, face it, you were probably a hell of a prick at Ball State. And wanna know something? It wasn't the hooch. It was the individual.

Alcohol's the heart of the problem [ESPN.com Page 2]

So that's why I keep finding blonde pubes in my bed

Coming soon to a store near you: Poopy Pants's crusty thong--

In the latest act of sanitizing New York's mean streets, lawmakers want to rid the city of a scourge most people are not even aware of -- previously worn lingerie being sold as new merchandise.

Council members are mulling the proposed legislation after watching a local television news broadcast which claimed leading department stores, including Saks Fifth Avenue and Macy's, had tried to resell returned undergarments.

Under current law, stores do not have to state whether undergarments on sale, including women's panties and thongs, have been bought and returned, although certain stores have developed their own policies.

The sick thing is that there are a lot of people out there who would gladly pay MORE for a pair of used panties. Of course, they won't be buying them with utilitarian considerations in mind.

Used Underwear...Get Your Used Underwear...

There were too many "nightstick" euphemisms to pick just one

Moonlighting Cops Star in Porn Movie

Two San Francisco police officers have come under investigation after their departments discovered they had starred in a pornographic movie entitled "Bus Stop Whores" that is circulating on the Internet.

The officers, Kelly Francisco of the San Francisco Sheriff's Department and Darryl Watts of the city's police department, play a prostitute and a john in the film, whose teaser is, "These girls won't ride a bus today!" according to local news reports.

The two are being investigated for any violations of criminal law or administrative rules, but have not faced disciplinary action, department representatives said on Wednesday.

Watts has been taken off patrol duty and reassigned to an administrative position pending the outcome of the investigation, said Maria Oropeza, an SFPD spokeswoman. Francisco continues to work as an institutional officer at San Francisco General Hospital, said Sheriff's Department chief of staff Eileen Hirst.

Done. And done.

Signed a lease.
Snagged two sets of keys.
Got the garage door openers.
Checked out the brand spanking new appliances.

We had, a whole lot of superstars, on this stage here tonight
But I want yall to know one thing-this is....My House
and when I say who's house, yall know what time it is.
Who's house?
Uch's house!

ah, once again my friend
not a trend for then
they said, rap was crap
but never had this band
till the ruler came
with a cooler name
make ya dance and prance and drove the fans insane
name is Uch my son
number one for fun
not a gun that's done and get done by none
the others act in fact ya just wack I kill
why? its fun my son and Uch heads the bill

Who's house? (Say What?) Uch's house!
Who's house? (Say What?) Uch's house!

I'm in the house y'all
I'm in the house y'all
and this is how Uch turns it out yall
I'm in the house y'all
I'm in the house y'all
and this is what Uch be about y'all
well my name is Uch, the all-time great
I bust the most rhymes in Cali state
reporters cry, producers die
they want to be down with the king!
the wanted man from the wanted clan
wanted by every fan from across the land
not a g-a-n-g off the street
u-c-h-u-c-h complete!

Who's house? (Say What?) Uch's house!
Who's house? (Say What?) Uch's house!

Uch, Uch, Uch, Uch
get on the mic and (MC)
another time I take for the rhyme I make
make me mad and sad because the fad is fake
see I do this thing so come persue this king
one minor rhyme is all you can spring
cause I'm the best I'm def, ask the rest they left
thats my name my game and we don't need the rep
you get the booze you lose, you suckas close your mouth
I set a trap for rap thats crap
its Uch's house!

Who's house? (Say What?) Uch's house!
Who's house? (Say What?) Uch's house!

some underestimate and miscalculate
my intent to create what I call the great
till I make a song that I prove em wrong
see my song so strong it'll make em come along
come in the door, get on the floor
hard rock hard hitting hip-hop hardcore
causing casualties and catastrophes
and tragedies for the sucker emcees
use your strategies to get the best of me
you dirty rat MCs, whoever you may be
you need to go down south, you need to shut your mouth
its all about no doubt just shout cause we talkin' 'bout....

Who's house? Uch's house!
Who's house? Uch's house!^*

_{^*all credit belongs to the greatest threesome in rap history}

The worst, Jerry, the worst

Tomorrow, Wilson Phillips will release their first new album (“California”) in ten years. It is entirely a collection of classic (e.g., The Beach Boys, The Mamas & The Papas, Jackson Browne, The Byrds, etc.) covers: Already Gone; Go Your Own Way; Turn! Turn! Turn!; Monday, Monday; Doctor My Eyes; In My Room; etc.

Without ever hearing a note of this CD, I thought I could safely guarantee that it would soon be playing in an elevator near you. Upon listening to Sony’s 30 second snippets of “Go Your Own Way” and “Already Gone,” I can definitively tell you that this album will be on “continuous repeat” mode for all of those poor souls stuck in hell.

The recipe: Take a bunch of arguably classic pop songs, add saccharinely cloying trio harmonies and the most innocuous Muzak-inspired arrangements imaginable and you get what may be the worst album from “name” musicians since Traveling Wilbury’s, Vol. 3. (I choose to pretend that Van Halen III never occurred.) Although All Music Guide gives “California” 3 (out of 5) stars, the review does not jive with the rating:

[“In My Room”] is very simple and moving and points to a problem the rest of the record has, namely a bloodless, sterile feel that comes from the slick production and overly safe sound. . . . [T]he songs are sunk by over-cooked arrangements. Producer Peter Asher goes for an ultra-modern processed sound that makes it sound like the girls are merely singing updated karoke versions of the old hits. The cover of Linda Ronstadt's version of You're No Good is the worst offender with its very cheesy synth drums and the shredding guitar sounds . . . .

With drivel like this being released week after week (e.g., see Alanis, Avril, and The Cardigans), it’s no wonder the music industry can’t create a sustainable business model (or any buzz, for that matter) to save its ass.

Support your local gunfighter

For only a $30 donation, Concerts For Kerry brings us a great evening of entertainment on June 6th at the Knitting Factory Hollywood, headlined by Tenacious D.

Dubya's approval rating continues its downward spiral. Help JK transition from merely a Bush alternative to a viable candidate in his own right and always remember The 10 Commandments of the D:

1. Never stop Rocking.
2. Legalize all drugs.
3. Quit your day job.
4. All Religion should be taxed.
5. Cut down on carbohydrates.
6. Fuck her gently.
7. Never believe what people tell you after a show.
8. Always take a spoon full of Metamucil after a heavy day of eating.
9. Get at least 9 hours of sleep a day.
10. Eatin' ain't cheatin'.

One generous link deserves another . . .

I'm actually pretty damn busy today and was only planning on the one token post below. For the hell of it I checked my stats and determined that the wonderful Mrs. Kennedy (proprietor of Fussy and mother of Jackson) had favored me with a link.

sac and Maccers introduced me to her site and I quickly became a fan. Check it out and you will become one too.


FYI--signing the new lease tomorrow. Hallefuckinlujah.

Do not accept a ride from this man. Ever.

Goodbye, Tony. Hello, Joey.

Peculiar way to start the day

I did not expect to hear Incense & Peppermints on my Friday morning commute. Hmmm. . .

Good sense, Innocence
Cripplin' mankind
Dead kings, many things
I can't define
Occasions, persuasions
Clutter your mind
Incense and peppermints
The color of time

Who cares
What games we chose?
Little to win
But nothin' to lose

Incense and peppermints,
Meaningless nouns
Turn on, tune in,
Turn your eyes around

I’m not quite sure whether The Strawberry Alarm Clock portend good things to come or foreshadow some unspeakable doom . . .

When Bobby Met Graydo . . .

SAC provides us with Robert Evans’s consoling phone call to Graydon Carter:

Graydo, baby. It’s Evans. Listen; don’t let those fuckers get you down. They’re just jealous. Hell, I’m jealous. A hundred big ones for a suggestion!? Genius, baby, pure genius. That’s the easiest money I’ve heard of since Charlie Bluhdorn paid me 75K to stay away from his niece. Who am I kidding, that was the toughest 75 grand I ever made. That girl was gorgeous. Anyway, you’re handling it beautifully so far. I had my assistant read me the Times article. “Mr. Carter was traveling and unavailable for comment.” Nice. My advice to you is to keep traveling. A moving target is much harder to hit, if you know what I mean.

The Kicker Lives (was there ever any doubt?)

The unsinkable ES refuses to cut VF's editor any slack:

In fact, the most interesting thing about Graydon-gate, is that the defenses may be more damaging than the indictment. If all of the above statements are true, and are generally considered a legitimate reasons why this isn't a scandal, the implication is that no one takes Graydon Carter seriously as a journalist.

O.K. Who has seen GC’s agreement and the $100K check?







[Uch raises his hand.]

And Lenny’s currently playing a chick on Broadway

Squiggy The Scout
This actually sounds pretty fucking great. A true "dork-does-good" story:

Yes, the Mariners recently made David Lander, the actor who portrayed Squiggy on "Laverne and Shirley,'' a scout. But no, Seattle has no plans to sell Shotz beer in the concessions or have the Big Ragoo sing the national anthem or trade John Olerud for Lenny (though they are willing to listen to any offers for Rich Aurilia).

You never wish bad tidings upon anyone, however . . .

Portman Ditches Bernal

Star Wars beauty Natalie Portman is a single woman again - after ditching hunky boyfriend Gael Garcia Bernal. The stunning 22-year-old actress has been dating the Bad Education star since meeting him at a post-Oscar party in 2003 but friends say cracks started appearing in the romance a few weeks ago. According to British newspaper The Sun, the final straw was when Portman discovered her beau had opted to take his parents to the Cannes Film Festival this week instead of her. Portman's previous boyfriends include Moby and Lukas Haas.

Although I knew of this a few weeks ago, there is a certain finality when one sees it in print.

Laugh out loud funny. Obvs.

Thanks Grambo:

talk about a strumpet! some trampy bird gets knocked up by both Liam Gallagher and Pete Libertines. dude, having sex with any member of The Libertines is roughly equivalent to getting blown by Jonathan Winters while watching "Battlefield Earth" on VHS ... obvs, there are MUCH better ways to spend your time. shmears.

The best news I've heard since "it's negative"

My new "favorite person in the blogosphere," the darling Jessica, has scooped everyone with this great tidbit:

Fox will be renewing "Arrested Development" for a second season.

It is easily the smartest comedy on television and the perfect way to relax on a Sunday night while warming-up your brain for the coming week. Everything about it, from Opie's narration to Liza's cameos, make it a must watch. Thank you Gail Berman. Thank you very much. I will no longer hold "The Swan" against you.

Quickie

I'm about to head out for the evening to do myself some unspeakable harms, however I wanted to quickly highlight two remarkable achievements from earlier today:

1. Smarty Jones

The very moment that this amazing horse broke clean out of the seventh gate at Pilmlico, I turned to the Roomie and announced that the race was over. Smarty knew it, too. I have never seen a more effortless victory in any Triple Crown race.

Secretariat won the Triple Crown just prior to my birth. Now I have my own Secretariat. And he will win the Belmont. Easily.

'Smarty' Wins Preakness By Record 11.5 Lengths

2. Arsenal

Although I have not watched a single Premier League match this season, the first undefeated campaign in 115 years is certainly impressive and worth noting. I'm sure my stepbrother (who gets paid to watch soccer) and my buddy Morgan (who loves Arsenal for some inexplicable reason) are pretty excited. At least I know of Thierry Henry, Patrick Vieira and Dennis Bergkamp from the World Cup and EA Sports' FIFA series. So cheers, guys. Good show.

Immortal Arsenal

Apple????

I never thought that I would ever say anything positive (albeit in context) regarding Bruce & Demi, however Rumer, Scout LaRue & Tallulah Belle are certainly less cacophonic than Apple:

Hey, App . . . get your arse down here for dinner!
Apple, how many times do I have to tell you?! No PSP until you finish your homework!
Apple, I told you to stop bothering Mr. Affleck.
Apple, honey, will you please put down Mommy's Oscar?

And that's without all of those dreadful Eden possibilities:

Yo, Apple. Have I got a snake for you . . .

To top it all off the name's not even that original: A cursory public record search revealed two previous Apple Martins, in Kentucky and Louisiana. Kentucky & Louisiana. It figures.

The Apple of Gwyneth's Eye

Hey, I have no issue being “The Rebound Guy”

“The Ring 2” is shooting in our parking lot at this very moment. Perhaps I should introduce myself to Naomi . . .


Ledger and Watts Confirm Split

Australian supercouple Heath Ledger and Naomi Watts have officially ended their turbulent on/off romance - and close friends blame the 10-year age gap between them for the split. The 21 Grams beauty's publicist Emma Cooper confirmed the pair had gone their separate ways but refused to comment on the reasons behind their break-up. However, sources close to the couple blame 25-year-old Ledger's wild lifestyle and wandering eye for cooling his 35-year-old belle's affections. And insiders say the Oscar-nominated actress is keen to settle down and start a family, and believes Ledger is not yet ready for such responsibility. Ledger and Watts embarked on a relationship after meeting on the set of Ned Kelly in 2002 but split in September 2003 before reconciling shortly afterwards. In recent weeks Heath has been spotted enjoying the company of rising star Scarlett Johansson and smooching with movie wild child Winona Ryder.

Ah, fuck it; I can’t deal with those mid-30's biological clocks. Alternatively, Heath seems to be doing pretty well for himself.

Hallelujah

Yep. I have found an apartment. It’s a large 2 bedroom/2 bathroom (visitors encouraged) top-floor unit in a classic Hancock Park building. Although it’s slightly more than I had wanted to pay, I was sold the second I slid open the door, stepped onto the balcony and saw its killer unobstructed view of the Hollywood Hills and the Hollywood Sign. After 2 ½ years of looking out my bedroom window and seeing only a bunch of Persians in various states of undress, I’ve had enough. The building’s heated pool, jacuzzi and fitness room are simply added bonuses. As are the two giant walk-in closets and the working gas fireplace that will share the living room with the TV and home theater. No longer will I ever hesitate to bring a nice intoxicated young lady to my abode.

And even the car is excited: it gets TWO spaces in a garage. No longer will it spend long cold nights on the parking lot that is my current backyard.

Of course there will be melancholy as I pack up my belongings (o.k., o.k. pack up those not already in boxes) and bid adieu to the roomie, however it’s time to move into my own space once again----Indeed, I think I may be growin’ up. Just a little. All right, maybe not so much.

Is this the face that launched 1,000 ships?



Welcome to The Pantheon™, Diane Kruger. Hell yeah, I'm going to see Troy this weekend.



And, no. I still haven't seen VH.

I searched throughout Vienna for my own Celine to no avail

I loved "Before Sunrise" despite the fact that I saw it on a very bad date at the horrendous Golf Glen. There was nothing quite like it: two attractive, distinct, well-written characters "meet cute" on the train and have what amounts to the perfect day and evening exploring Vienna and each other. It worked as a date movie, a travelogue, a psychological study and a Gen-X relationship primer. It hardly qualifies as a great cinematic achievement, but it was perfect at what it was.

When I read that Linklater was reuniting the characters in "Before Sunset," I was thrilled to no end. I was doubly excited when I read that the film will be the Centerpiece Gala at the upcoming 2004 LA Film Festival.^*

I have had a fantastic crush on Julie Delpy (or, maybe, more correctly, Celine) dating back to "Before Sunrise." Although she is an omnipresent fixture throughout LA, I have never been able to shake my image of her as Celine (no matter how scruffy she may appear around town). In my mind, she inhabits the role.

The Times’ movie preview, has a wonderful piece by Karen Durbin profiling several foreign actors, including Delpy, who will be “stealing scenes” this summer:

In Richard Linklater's "Before Sunset,” a young Parisian named Celine (Julie Delpy) informs an American writer, Jesse (Ethan Hawke), who's heading back to New York, that she's turned her back on romance. "I have still a lot of dreams, just not in regard to my love life any more," she says briskly. "It doesn't make me sad, it's just the way it is." Those last words come out in a subdued shriek, as if she's daring him to contradict her. Three minutes of verbal dueling later, Jesse is planted on her sofa looking anguished and joyful. She sits on the bed, strumming a guitar and singing him a waltz she wrote about a long-ago "one-night thing": theirs. The lyrics are light and rueful, like Ms. Delpy's voice. Then she reaches the punch line. "My heart will stay yours until I die," she sings; and because neither her tone nor her expression changes, the nakedness of the declaration takes your breath away.

Aided by the slightly acid chemistry between his actors, Mr. Linklater's new film makes a witty and convincing case for romantic love, not as a narcissistic dream but as a form of valuable intelligence. "Before Sunset" (July 2) is also a reminder of what an underused resource Ms. Delpy is; smart, gifted and, at 31, more beautiful than ever, she deserves a place on every director's A list, not just his.

Ms. Delpy's confident, unadorned screen style is a refreshing alternative to the perky-versus-pouty choices on offer these days from too many young French actresses. She delivers Celine's intricate, emotionally conflicted dialogue (much of which she wrote herself) with deceptive ease, and you see that Jesse loves her not least for her quickness of mind. In this candid, funny, deeply moving portrait, Ms. Delpy shows us a passionate woman marooned by her own self-sufficiency and using everything she's got to break free.

If you haven’t seen “Before Sunrise,” do it before “Before Sunset.” You will want to meet Jesse and Celine as they once were to best appreciate what (and who) they have become. A friend sent me the script of “Before Sunset,” but it remains unread. Like all of the suspense thriller screenplays I refuse to read, I don’t want what’s on the page to minimize the impact of what I see on the screen. As much as “Before Sunrise” and (I assume) “Before Sunset” strive to be viewed as contemporary studies of romantic intellectual discourse, it’s their visceral impact that ultimately make them resonant and timeless.

^*It is truly an amazing festival lineup: not only is “Before Sunset” the Centerpiece, but “Garden State” is the Opening Night Gala (yes, I may finally meet her) and “The Clearing” is the Closing Night Gala.

Is that a peacock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?



To all those people who asked me if I was worried about the impending sale of my new employer when I left the law firm, I can only say:

Ha!

I’m still employed and actually looking forward to spending some quality time with my new parent.

Anyone need a discounted fridge?

Keep it up NYC & I'll definitely make you my next home

Number of NYC Smokers Drops by 100,000

The number of adult smokers in New York City dropped by more than 100,000 in a year, a decrease city officials attribute to sharply higher tobacco taxes, the city's smoking ban in bars and cessation programs.

Telephone surveys commissioned by the city found that 19.3 percent of adults smoked in 2003, compared with 21.6 percent in 2002, The New York Times reported Wednesday.

Cigarette consumption also declined by 13 percent, signaling that those who still smoke are smoking less.

My bedroom and clothing still reek from smoke after Monday evening with the 22-year-old (who clearly has not yet outgrown her need to be a chimney while drinking). Of course, it doesn't help when you go to one of the few (legal & great) bars in LA that still has an enclosed smoking room. Well, if that's the only price, I'll gladly pay through the nose . . .

The only job worse than being Courtney Love's publicist

Jim Caple on Page 2 has compiled a somewhat stomach-turning list of The 10 Most Disgusting Things In Sports, including this dry heave-inducing one for fans of coprophilia:

5. Sumo stewards. Sure, there are some unpleasant responsibilities for a clubhouse attendant -- picking up sweaty jerseys, dirty jockstraps, etc. -- but it could be much, much worse. They could be responsible for the hygiene of sumo wrestlers, who can grow so large that they cannot, ahem, properly clean themselves. And we'll just leave it at that.









I wonder if Alicia Silverstone required one when she played Batgirl?

The End of the World is Nigh (aka Dude, I feel like ass)

O.K., so I’m a tad tired and slightly hungover today. That’s what spontaneous Monday evening revelry will do to you---especially when you end up knocking back bottle after bottle of chardonnay with a young lady who was born subsequent to the assassination of John Lennon.


Oh, yeah . . . interesting apartment news forthcoming. That is all.

Let the pissing contest begin . . .

The Couch of Sin has arrived. Disinfect yourself before sitting down.

Best news I’ve heard in ages

The "mockumentary" chronicling Jack Tanner’s quest to win the 1988 Democratic Presidential Primary remains the best example of authentic American political satire/commentary to this day. I obsessively watched Sundance Channel’s recent re-airing of the entire series (with "new" introductions from all the principals). I cannot wait to see their dissection of the current political nightmare; come October, it will likely be one of our few sources of intelligent & relevant entertainment (no, "Joey" does not count):

Fact and fiction on the campaign trail will blur just as they did 16 years ago, when the "Tanner '88" team reunites for fresh satire on this year's presidential race.

The limited series, not yet titled, will reunite "Tanner '88" co-creators, director Robert Altman and "Doonesbury" creator Garry Trudeau, as well as cast members Michael Murphy, Cynthia Nixon, Pamela Reed and Matt Malloy. It will air in October on the Sundance Channel, the cable network announced Monday.

This production follows Sundance Channel's recent re-airing of the original "Tanner '88" miniseries, a groundbreaking HBO-produced "mockumentary" that followed fictitious presidential hopeful Jack Tanner (Murphy) as he battled his way through real-life 1988 Democratic primaries, only to "lose" the nomination to Michael Dukakis.

The new three-part series centers on Tanner's daughter Alex (Nixon), now a filmmaker seeking funding for a documentary about what it takes to run for president and the toll it takes on those who lose.

As in "Tanner '88," the series will blur the boundary between factual and dramatic, and will feature Tanner interacting with real present-day candidates as well as those from the recent past.

The series, which begins production next month, will wrap in July at the Democratic convention in Boston.

TV's 'Tanner '88' Team Back on Campaign

Guess I’m not the only one having trouble relocating

My favorite professional blogger-cum-journalist, the sublime Elizabeth Spiers, is apparently in the same boat as yours truly (albeit she only has a 22.7 square mile island to work with):

I'm looking for a new apartment with a June 1 move-in date, preferrably in Manhattan, preferrably downtown-ish. If you hear of anything, email me at elizabeth_spiers AT newyorkmag.com or AIM spiersNYM.

If you're able, give the lady a hand. This blog would not exist but for her.

By the way, if today's apartment application falls through, I will officially start getting nervous.

Wanna hear Choire?

The current dean of Gawker flacks (halfway down) on behalf of The Defamer and the empire on D2D.

Say yes and this could be yours



I seriously do not think I could bring myself to marry a woman who would be excited to receive a $19K engagement ring from Amazon.

W was to Yale in the 60's as Jalen Rose was to Michigan in the 90's

When I walked into my very first class in Ann Arbor (Comm 103-Intro to Mass Communication) and saw the entire Fab Five, I knew I was home. It's comforting to know that the President is playing on the same level as the inimitable Ray Jackson.

Closely related to this aggressive ignorance is a third feature of Bush's mentality: laziness. Again, this is a lifelong trait. Bush's college grades were mostly Cs (including a 73 in Introduction to the American Political System). At the start of one term, the star of the Yale football team spotted him in the back row during the shopping period for courses. "Hey! George Bush is in this class!" Calvin Hill shouted to his teammates. "This is the one for us!" As governor of Texas, Bush would take a long break in the middle of his short workday for a run followed by a stretch of video golf or computer solitaire.

Dubya is the living epitome of The Peter Principle at work. Read this and be truly aghast that 50.4 million Americans voted for this horse's ass of petulant ineptitude.

The Misunderestimated Man---How Bush chose stupidity. [Slate thanks to Jessica]

The Great Template Debate 2004

Blogger has gone under the knife and had a facelift (only 7 behind MTM). There are now over 30 available templates, which begs the question:

What do y'all think of this split pea design & layout? I am not particularly attached to it and will gladly tweak it or undertake a wholesale renovation based upon the suggestions of my wonderful visitors.

All comments appreciated. Thanks.

Mother's Day Linkage Love

Coachella Sets (mp3's)

The music without the madness---not the same as being there, but pretty damn good

Pixies

Radiohead^*


[gracias a Grambo y Thigh Master]

^*change the file extension from .jpg to .mp3 prior to saving

Here's an oldie but goodie to carry you through the weekend

clap your hands, everybody
and everybody clap your hands!
we're Lambda Lambda Lambda and...
Omegu Mu
and we've come here on stage tonight
to do a show for you!

We've got a rockin' rhythm and a hi-tech sound
that'll make you move your body down to the ground!
We got Poindexter on the violin,
and Louis and Gilbert will be joinin' in
We got Booger Presley on the lead guitar
and a rap by lil' ol' me, Lamar!
We got Takeshi beating on his gong
The boys and the Mus are clappin' along

And just when you thought you've seen it all
Along comes a Lambda 4 foot tall
So get out here, Wormser, on the floor
and let's move our bodies like never before!

Breeeaaaak...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Compared to this, NYU's Village Pac-Man participants look like cutting-edge hipsters

I knew they were a bunch of dorks after I visted and subsequently refused to apply, but this raises the bar to a whole new level. When I think of scavenger hunts, I think Midnight Madness, sorority house panties, compromising photos of the dean's daughter and stolen mascots, not this pretentious academic circle-jerk:

Welcome to what's billed as the world's largest scavenger hunt, under way on Friday at the University of Chicago. Now in its 18th year, "Scav Hunt" began at midnight on Thursday with the unveiling of a 282-item list, each one worth a number of points, which teams of students seek to complete by Sunday when the game ends.

Some of this year's challenges: Build a "Calvin Kleinometer"; produce "a McDonald's Sad Meal"; construct a diorama tribute to dioramas with no infinite regressions; replicate Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss" using only lip prints made with cosmetics that haven't been tested on animals; and "demonstrate conclusively that there really is a wrong way to eat a Reese's (candy)."

The list has a handful of items that can be completed only from New Jersey, prompting several teams to send devoted members on the 1,000-mile road trip. Four students can build a rustic but homey log cabin while blindfolded, handcuffed and ear-muffed, or produce a thesis on dining hall napkins, signed off by a thesis committee.

In Chicago, a Scavenger Hunt Unlike Others

Sometimes, I guess there’s just not enough rocks

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Today, I’m sad. When proactivity drives one forward, it’s difficult when there is absolutely nothing one can do.

Pure Genius

TV Land Goes On A Frenzy When Classic TV Salutes Final Episode Of Friends

As a fitting tribute to Friends, one of television's most popular and enduring sitcoms, TV Land will go on a complete frenzy and pre-empt regularly scheduled programming to salute the series on Thursday, May 6 -- the night of the finale.

At 9 p.m., for the entire hour that the Friends finale is airing, TV Land will be closed for business. Instead of regularly scheduled programming, viewers tuning in to TV Land will be treated to a room full of TV Land staffers - purportedly watching the Friends finale -- periodically addressing the camera to remind viewers that the Friends finale is on and that we really aren't airing anything so there's no point staying tuned.

The last time TV Land pre-empted programming to pay tribute to a series was in 1998 to salute the finale of Seinfeld. Throughout the entire hour, TV Land aired nothing to salute the show about nothing. The only thing seen on the channel was an image of TV Land's closed office doors accompanied by a note explaining that the network would return after the conclusion of Seinfeld's finale.

[TV Land Online]

When I think of Jordan, I think of MJ. That’s about to change.



Supposedly this woman is famous in Britain purely for being famous (à la George Hamilton and ET) and for shagging Becks. I guess she shows her tits at the drop of a hat (or a quid, whichever hits the ground first). Apparently she has written an autobiography. I will read it and write a full-length review if someone will buy it for me. Same deal holds for this.

Any takers?

All right I may be superficial as hell but . . .



Tori Spelling officially fails the Miller v. California test for obscenity. Prior restraint should not only be permitted, but encouraged. There is no community on earth whose standards would not be offended by her appearance. Please make it go away.

Isn’t a vote of confidence inevitably the kiss of death?

One can only hope that very soon W will say, “Rumsy, we need to talk . . .”

With the King of Jordan standing beside him, President Bush said today that he was "sorry" for the abuses inflicted on Iraqi prisoners by American military guards. But Mr. Bush rejected calls for the resignation of Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld despite a rising wave of criticism.

"Secretary Rumsfeld is a really good secretary of defense," Mr. Bush said. "Secretary Rumsfeld has served our nation well. Secretary Rumsfeld has been the secretary during two wars and he is an important part of my cabinet, and he'll stay in my cabinet."

Bush Says He's Sorry for Abuse of Iraqis, Then Backs Rumsfeld

Summer. The time for crappy movies and even crappier books.

In today’s LA Daily Candy:

Hey, you. By the bookshelf. With that look of utter frustration on your face. There's something over here that might interest you.

Meet Tom. He's smart, sensitive, and a bit indecisive. (Hey, who isn't around graduation?) He's trying to enjoy his last carefree college days. There's just one problem: a mysterious 500-year-old text called the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.

The Rule of Four is a thrilling tale of academic seduction and real-life heartbreak. Caught between the opposing forces of Renaissance Italy and idyllic Princeton, Tom tries to focus on his friends, his future, and his girlfriend -- and to ignore the powerful text that ultimately killed his father. But he finds himself increasingly unable to resist the scholarly temptation and becomes consumed with solving this ancient mystery. As Tom and his roommates get closer to its hidden meanings, danger assaults them from every corner of campus until each is ultimately forced to choose between real life and academic satisfaction.

We can't tell you how it ends. But we will say this ...

Your days of grumpy bookstore browsing are over.

That’s it. The entire e-mail. No mention of the author. At all. Anywhere. I suppose when all concerned parties are aware they are peddling trash the creators of the refuse become irrelevant.

It can go without saying that this screams Da Vinci Code (Amazon has even conveniently linked the two as a Best Value---no, I won't favor them with a link) without the pseudo-intellectual renaissance name in the title. Never read Leonardo’s book. Won’t be reading this either. I’ll stick with slitting my wrists while digesting this.

I honestly feel as if I lost a couple of IQ points while I read this PR drivel.

Of course, this fucking thing will probably sell 500,000 copies and my employer will option it against a high six-figure purchase price.

Two quick TMFTML-related notes

Note Number The First: I cannot believe I waited until now to read this. My day would have been so utterly improved and you might have actually seen a hint of a smile pass across my Malcolm McDowell-deprived face.

Note Number The Second: Although The OC season finale was a bit of a predictable let-down [C'mon Schwartz, is it that difficult to fill 44 minutes of air time? Did you really feel the need to have no fewer than FOUR extended musical montages? And is it a rule, or merely some warped dramatic gimmick on your part, that requires you to beat your viewers over the head with various "closing the circle" metaphors and first episode allusions? Hello, McFly . . . even I could've scripted this one.], it did close with a [grating] cover of L. Cohen's Various Positions masterstroke (the source of the moniker).

Certainly better than “it's not you, it's me”

Never having accomplished a break-up with less than 45 minutes of telephone unpleasantness (other than simply not calling . . . ever), I envy the Anglican efficiency:

LONDON (Reuters) - Nearly one in 10 Britons admit to dumping their partner by cellphone text message rather than breaking the news face-to-face, according to a survey.

While a third of those polled said they had had an argument by text, nearly half admitted flirting by cellphone message.

Brits send "U R dumped" txt msgs

Will someone answer this one tiny question for me?

Why?
Why now?
Why today?

Let's just say that I will be spending my afternoon reviewing 15 years of asshole producer's term deal correspondence in a hopeless quest to locate 2 fucking words instead of having lunch with him, him, him and her.

I'm singin' in the rain, Just singin' in the rain
What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again . . .



I'm about to head to the set of my "Favorite Film In Production" for a meeting. While I am there, I will certainly meet him (he's shooting a great cameo today). Is it considered poor form to tell an actor that he scared the living shit out of you when you were 12?

Everyone's invited

to watch the season finale of this in HDTV at my house tonight. 9 pm PDT. BYOC<sup>*


*</sup>Bring your own chair. The sofa seems to have disappeared from the living room.

We've been invaded

Nick Denton's Gawker Media Empire has finally left the cozy confines of EDT.

The Defamer is live as of today.

Of course, when the first thing you see is LBJ's personal house-elf, it almost scares you off the site for good.

Can someone please tell me . . .

why I'm the only executive in my department who's not at tonight's premiere?

Oh, well . . . I guess I can cross off five more names from my list of potential invitees to the 32nd AFI Life Achievement Award honoring Meryl Streep (Uch +3). Hell, I'll take black tie at the Kodak over a cheezy Citywalk screening any day.

I beg to differ

BMW drivers have more sex than owners of any other cars and are much more active than Porsche drivers, a new German car magazine has found.

The German magazine "Men's Car" found in a survey of 2,253 motorists aged 20 to 50 published in its inaugural May issue that male BMW drivers say they have sex on average 2.2 times each week while Porsche drivers have sex 1.4 times per week.

When I purchased the car and traded in the '89 Buick with windows that would no longer lower, Purmon, my friendly salesman, told me to come back and see him in six months: "I promise you that your life will be dramatically different," he said with a knowing smile.

And while my life has changed quite a bit since that revelatory evening in early January 2002, the UWIA (Uch Weekly Intercourse Average) has more-or-less remained consistent. And I don't mean consistently high. In fact, the Buick was a lot more useful in that arena than the convertible could ever hope to be. At best, the BMW's gear shift always gets in the way.

Of course, while quantity may remain unaffected by the BMW, quality has dramatically spiked. The car may not increase the number of panties you get into, but it certainly improves upon their overall essence (including those lovely ladies going commando).

BMW Drivers Get Most Sex?

Where's Uncle Jesse?



Overheard---

Dave Coulier: "Psssst, Mary-Kate, Ashley. You guys need a comic for your 18th birthday party? You sure? I do voices. C'mon . . . how 'bout floating me a couple bucks? For old time's sake? All right, then . . . which one of you wants to sit on Uncle Joey's lap?"

Mean Girls retrospective

Despite the fact that I was explicitly misled (Tina Fey's diminutive bosom was ensconced in a lacy indigo brassiere), "Mean Girls" contained some damn fine (non-exclusive) moments including:

1. Its setting at "North Shore High School" in Chicago's northern suburbs (area code 847 -- obviously Shermer High's sister school);

2. A scene at Old Orchard Shopping Center (where Uch parlayed a University of Michigan diploma into a lucrative Barnes & Noble cafe position);

3. Walker Brothers Pancake House (home of the Apple Pancake) gift certificates;

4. The Janitor;

5. A better-than-average script;

6. A hottie in a halo; and

7. Four Words: Amy Poehler, nipple, chihuahua.

To top it all off, the roomie and I had the great pleasure of sitting next to BIG TIME ARTIST/PRODUCER and his family during the film. They appeared to enjoy it as much as we did.

By the way, if we were slowly melting in LA this weekend, did everyone at Coachella spontaneously combust?

Pointless Sunday Afternoon Segues

Still no apartment. But getting warmer.
And by warmer, I mean that the car thermometer hit 100° today for the first time in recent memory on the good side of the hills.
And by the hills, I mean the Hollywood Hills, not Beverly Hills, where the roomie & I just stopped for Green Tea Iced Bobas.
And by the rooomie, I mean the life-long friend of mine who is currently watching the Lakers-Spurs game on my 60" TV until 3:30.
And by 3:30, I mean the time she & I are leaving to go see Tina Fey's naturally flat chest in Westwood.
And by Westwood, I mean a place where I do not intend to live.
And by intend, I mean
Still no apartment.