In Medias Res

Dead Newscaster Walking

Please enjoy the funniest thing I've ever seen.

The Greatest Music Video of ALL TIME, BAR NONE.

Would you believe it's from Coldplay?

Dear Rock Star: Episode One

It's on, people. It's on like B.D. Wong.

Stop by www.thefridayforty.com and subscribe to my podcast! This week, special guest star Jake Johnson helps me answer a cry for help only we can hear: the one sounded weekly by the older members of the "Real World/Road Rules Challenge" cast. Don't you think they'd make wiser choices if a good friend took the time to make a thoughtful mixtape? We do, and even though the damage may already be done, we're taking a swing.

Subscribe, listen, learn.

Also, come check out our special St. Patrick's Day episode of the Friday Forty, at Upright Citizens Brigade! Details at the site.

Dear Rock Star

At long last, I'm entering the podcastsphere!

Yeah, folks, I've been listening. "You have THE BEST RECORD COLLECTION," you say, "and you're SUCH A GOOD ADVICE GIVER. You really should synthesize those two aspects of your life in a way that's just a tiny bit behind the cultural curve, and possibly illegal!" Got it, folks. GOT IT.

Hence, this weekend, check out the premiere of DEAR ROCK STAR, my very own radio show/advice column/mix tape.

Here's how it works: drop a line to dearrockstar@yahoo.com, tell Daddy your troubles, and then listen to an hour of music chosen specifically to solve your problem. Having trouble with your family? Freaked out about some weird sex thing? Worried about Beth, Mark, Syrus and Timmy, who must be nearly 40 at this point, but who are still competing in Real World/Road Rules Challenges? Bring it to DEAR ROCK STAR. Music fixes everything!

Get to spillin'. dearrockstar@yahoo.com. Link to the show coming this weekend.
Dave

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME...

Junior Holmes.
12 weeks old, 14 pounds.
Daddy and Boyfriend are resting comfortably.

THE FRIDAY FORTY! THIS FRIDAY! HOLY COW!

Folks, your favorite current-affairs trivia quiz/comedy show/beer-fest is BACK! New location! New characters! New tricks up new sleeves!

And of course, 40 new questions about the events of this very week!

Also, free beer.

BE THERE!
Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre
5919 Franklin Ave. (between Tamarind & North Bronson)
Friday, February 3
11pm. $8.
Free beer. Seriously.
Want to be a contestant? Contact us at thefridayforty@gmail.com

THE FRIDAY FORTY: 40 questions. 40 ounces. 7 days.

KERRY CALLS FOR LE FILIBUSTER FROM SWISS

As of 1:39am 1/25/06, that's the current Drudge Report headline. It references John Kerry, a known Irishman, calling for his fellow Democrats to block Samuel Alito's lifetime nomination to the Supreme Court, while Kerry's at the World Economic Forum in Switzerland.

Why, the way YOU say it, Matt Drudge, it's almost like a French guy is asking Swiss people to block an American judicial nominee! What a hilariously unintentional semantic mistake, you great big closeted homo!

Look at this photograph.

So I'm driving Mulholland, late on the afternoon of a wonderful, productive day. The top is down, the air is crisp, the heart is glad. It's the kind of moment that somehow makes you NOT change the station when Nickelback's "Photograph" comes on the radio.

But as I listen, I hear the lyrics for once. Stuff like "Criminal record says I broke in twice," and "The cops didn't like us hanging out." And it hits me:

Good God, can you imagine how disappointed you'd be if the toughest kid in your high school grew up to be the guy from Nickelback?

Oh Boy!

Just got back from New Year’s in Cabo San Lucas, where we had no newspapers or radio, and only Fox News on the TV. So it wasn’t until I checked my in-box this morning that I saw the wonderful news: apparently gay people can get married all over America, serve openly in the military and/or clergy, and adopt children and/or not see the ones they already have forcibly removed from their homes!

How else would The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation have the time to demand an apology from NBC for Gene Shalit’s bad review of “Brokeback Mountain?”

Here’s the story; try not to spill your coffee when you recoil in terror:

In the piece, Shalit refers to Jake Gyllenhaal's character, Jack, as a "sexual predator" who "tracks Ennis down and coaxes him into sporadic trysts." Shalit's bizarre characterization of Jack as a "predator" and Ennis (Heath Ledger) as a victim reflects a fundamental lack of understanding about the central relationship in the film and about gay relationships in general. It seems highly doubtful that Shalit would similarly claim that Titanic's Jack (Leonardo DiCaprio) was a "sexual predator" because he was pursuing a romantic relationship with Rose (Kate Winslet).

Hey, GLAAD, can I have my donation back, please? The homeless guy with the imaginary cell phone on my corner would use it more responsibly.

While I agree that Shalit’s take on the story is boneheaded and his choice of words indelicate, it’s a review of a movie. And it’s from Gene Shalit, who, in terms of cultural influence, ranks up there with Snap and Crackle, but just behind Pop. Don’t get me wrong- if Byron Allen doesn’t like the movie, we’re fucked; Gene (who, by the way, has also written a really lovely piece about his gay son on P-FLAG’s website) I think we can let slide.

As for the “Titanic” claim, apparently GLAAD has never been to an open-mic night. The “if you act like John Cusack characters in real life, you get a restraining order” bit is so played out, even Dane Cook won’t go near it.

But the worst part is that we’re getting attacked- for real and every single day- by segments of the population who are convinced that the things we’re fighting for- the ability to marry the person you love, the legal right to not lose your job or home because of your sexual orientation, to name a few- are special rights. Of course they’re not, but if Gene Shalit is ultimately pressured into apologizing for not getting “Brokeback Mountain,” I predict we’ll have a much tougher time getting that point across. The right to be shielded from negative interpretations of movies we like by pun-happy, Muppetesque morning-show personalities is so special, I hear the old CBS intro-bumper music just thinking about it.

We are on the slow, windy, one-way road to equality, and GLAAD has done some great, difficult work to make that happen. But as we draw closer to that destination, let's choose our battles. Ultimately, equality means hearing your fair share of opinions you don't agree with, even from your friends.

"SNL's 101 Most Unforgettable Moments"

It's just like I've always said: if there's anything better than watching a classic Saturday Night Live sketch, it's watching 9 seconds of it, then hearing what Sheryl Lee Ralph has to say about it. Thanks, E!

Do you...do you like a game show?

Finally...IO West's first comedy game show!

Scott Gimple and Dave Holmes present:
THE FRIDAY FORTY

The game show world is obsessed with useless trivia. Remote Control probed its contestants for 1970s TV facts, The Price is Right makes sure you know the price of Sue-Bee Honey, Jeopardy tests your knowledge of the Peloponnesean War or whatever goddamn hoity-toity thing Alex Trebek’s got on his cards.

But who’s there to make sure you’re paying attention to what’s going on in the world right now? The Friday Forty is the weekly game show that rewards your knowledge of the news of the last seven days. Contestants sit back, sip a 40-ounce, and face a fearsome 40 questions about the events of the last week, fired at them by our hosts and a cast of IO West's best comics. At stake, their reputations and fabulous prizes maybe!

THE FRIDAY FORTY
40 questions. 40 ounces. 7 days.
Friday, December 9 & 16
8pm, 10 clams.
Co-hosted by Scott Gimple and Dave Holmes, with surprise appearances by some of the week's newsmakers.

Want to be a contestant? Want 2-for-1 tickets? Drop a line, yo: thefridayforty@gmail.com

Will the real Simka Shady please stand up?

Eminem's getting loads of attention these days, what with the iPod ad and the greatest-hits collection and whatnot.

I think it's a good time to reflect on how much he looks like Carol Kane.

Alright already.

Pretty girl, filthy mouth. Got it.

Don't Be Cruel.

Hit up the Downtown Standard last night, post-Kings-defeat, and who's right there at the first table by the elevator, chewing his face like George W. Bush at press conference? None other than Bobby Brown, resplendent in oversized Polo shirt and jean shorts, baseball hat askew over what was either nascent dreadlocks or just uncombed hair. Brother wasn't looking well. Somehow, when we weren't looking, Bobby Brown turned into Flavor Flav. (Flavor Flav, meanwhile, has turned into Burgess Meredith.)

But here's the worst part: It was boys' night out, and Bobby was, without question, scoping for Ronies. Locking onto any new woman who stepped off the elevator, like actual missiles might come out of him. In more than one case, actually grinding against them. What the f?

For real, Bobby Brown! You took America's Sweetheart, a woman whose Star Spangled Banner galvanized a war-torn nation, and turned her into The Poo Lady. Can you at least not hit on other women in public? At the fucking Downtown Standard?

Whatever. He made this money, I didn't. Right, Ted? We outta here.

Quick Awesomeness

Anybody tried Pandora? It's an internet radio dealie, where you put in a favorite song and they build a station around it. (Morning zoo and zap-zap-zap contest noises sold separately.) I threw it The Push Stars, as it's a grey autumn day and I needed some Bostonrock, and for the most part, they've pointed me in the right direction (Neil Finn, Portastatic, Bob Mould). Somehow, though, some Blessid Union of Souls got in there, so I have to perform an honor killing on my iMac. Otherwise, it's the funky-freshest.
_____

Think I can get them for my housewarming party? Perhaps the best quote I've read all day: "We're proud of being white, we just want to keep being white!" Hey, best of luck with that! And I hate to burst your bubble, but experts agree: being twins named Lamb and Lynx makes you a little white-chocolatey. Rock on, Gold Dust Pre-Women!
_____

I know Katrina's all retro now, but can we please re-live this? Download richard-simmons-hurricane.wmv Take a look, then come back and let's talk.

Okay. Now watch again, and look out for my favorite things:
1) The overall feeling that this happens in the Simmons household ALL THE TIME. This is clearly not the first time Lenny and his wife have had to hold Richard's hand on the sofa. And not just during hurricanes, either; I suspect that if a camera crew was there while they all watched the premiere of "The Ghost Whisperer," the resulting footage would be identical.
2) At around 1:09, Lenny calls Richard "sweetheart." I love both my brothers, but if either of them called me "sweetheart," I would shower like Karen Silkwood and never, EVER stop.
3) The way Richard makes himself cry with the beauty of his own gestures. When his face is buried in Lenny's armpit at around the 1-minute mark, and he's wailing like the offspring of Dakota Fanning and a sheepdog, it's not really the hurricane that's got him in such a state. It's the sheer, simple grace of his action: waking up his big fat brother in the middle of the night with a camera crew and making sure that everything he needs he ha-ha-haaaaas. (Which, by the way, he seems to, and if they can find the motherfucker's temporary address, surely they can verify that he's okay, and leave the boom guy out of it.)
4) Richard Simmons' brother is obese. And doesn't feel the need to put pants on when company's over.

God bless America, and let's pray there are Simmonses in Cancun.

Saturday Night DEAD! Ha, ha! Get it?

(It's a play on words, see. Like instead of "Saturday Night LIVE," which is what it's called, I used the opposite of live- or actually the opposite of alive- which is dead. Because, you know, the show's not real funny this season. Get it now? Yeah? I know. Hey, thanks!)

The show's in its 31st season, and that goddamn headline is in its 30th. Can you really recycle that pun- now in its fourth decade of life- and then go on to criticize unimaginative writing?

Okay, yeah, I guess you can. It's the Post, after all. And, hacktacular choice of words or no, the guy's right. I'll TiVo SNL for the rest of my life, and I root like hell for it, but the last year or two have been, dare I say, sub-Denny Dillon.

Consider this, though: save for maybe two seasons in the late 1980s, the show has always, on balance, kind of sucked. I know people masturbate and cry about the first 5 years, but dear God- have you ever watched a whole episode from the Seventies? Not the clips of Gilda Radner that you get on nostalgia shows, not even the 60-minute versions you get in reruns, but a whole episode? The short films? The Laraine Newman character monologues? Leon fucking Redbone? That's a 90 minutes that will tax you, historical or not. If they put the 1977-78 season on Saturdays at 11:30 starting tonight, you'd hate it so much you'd even try to think of a new headline.

At its best, the show gives you 2 or 3 really good laughs per episode. Not spectacular, but better than Anthony Clark's entire sitcom oeuvre. It's just that the last few seasons don't seem to be making anyone laugh even once, except the cast. (Memo to Horatio Sanz, Kenan Thompson and Rachel Dratch: when I want to see people with fat heads act pleased with themselves, I'll go get that Death Cab For Cutie DVD.)

Whatever. Catherine Zeta-Jones and Franz Ferdinand tonight.
Come back. All is forgiven.

KR-ONE

Okay, Karl Rove. You're a brilliant strategist, and you've got a talent for whispering things in the right ears and then sitting back as everyone starts repeating them. And when they come back around to you, you probably laugh, and your laugh probably starts with a "mu" sound.

But let's not get cocky.

I guess Karl and James Dobson (of Focus on the Family fame) just sat down over mudslides and talked about this Harriet Miers. Just, you know, as pals. And the juicy info that Rove passed on to Dobson was this: she's the Very Best Choice. She was, in fact, "at the top of a very short list." Shocking, right?

But then he said something I think is a little odd. Just read this, excerpted from James' radio show (which I've never heard, but I'm guessing he plays the clean version of David Banner's "Play."):

"Well, what Karl told me is that some of those individuals took themselves off that list. They would not allow their names to be considered because the process has become so vicious and so vitriolic and so bitter that they didn't want to subject themselves or the members of their families to it."

Um. What?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we all just watch John Roberts go through The Process and get confirmed as Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court? Did that process strike anyone as vicious or vitriolic or bitter? I'll admit I didn't watch the entire thing, but I can't even remember a raised voice. I've seen episodes of "Revealed with Jules Asner" that were more vicious and vitriolic and bitter.

Is the bar really set this low? Are the best-qualified candidates for the United States Supreme Court backing out because they're afraid someone might ask them questions? Jesus, let's hope these guys never try to buy in a co-op building.

Or is someone trying to take a bonehead nomination that nobody on either side appears to support, and make it look like a noble gesture in the middle of a shitstorm of Democrat Anger? It's almost like Karl and James are trying to conjure the shopworn image of evil bureaucrat liberals, pissily standing in the way of progress, stopping at nothing- NOTHING!- to derail Bush's best-laid plans, because they hate hate hate him. "Why, they'll make vicious, vitriolic, bitter personal attacks on good, honest Christians and their families! Just like they did with whoops we have to take a commercial break."

I don't know, I just like my Evil Geniuses a little savvier. Karl, my message is simple: ya slippin'.

All I'm saying...

...is that when I'm at a bar, and I look around, and I notice people doing this, I leave.

FYI, they leave out the 20 minutes of this press conference where he just goes on and on and on about Paul Thomas Anderson.

Corner of Beverly & Kilkea, 9/28/05

Fred: Maybe you could clarify something for me. While I've been waiting for the fleet to show up, I've read a lot, and-
Ted: Really?
Fred: - and one thing that keeps cropping up is about "subtext." Songs, novels, plays- they all have a subtext, which I take to mean a hidden message or import of some kind.
Ted nods.
Fred: So, subtext we know. But what do you call the meaning, or message, that's right there on the surface, completely open and obvious? They never talk about that. What do you call what's above the subtext?
Ted: The text.
Pause.
Fred: Okay. That's right. But they never talk about that.

                    - Whit Stillman's "Barcelona," 1991

 

Listen up, big guy...

...if you can't get excited about your new show, we can't either.

"The Showbiz Show with David Spade" reinforces what's always galled me about this guy: he's the kind of comic who, instead of taking a risk and trying to sell an actual joke that may be funny or may fail, will tell a tired one, but in an over-it, weary way that says "I am cooler than comedy itself. Let's you and I sneer at this weak custom of making an effort."

It was sorta-kinda-almost funny in 1991, when we were just meeting this fellow and we thought he had some other snacks in his lunchbox; it is completely enervating and sad in 2005, when we know he doesn't.

Dude. Quit having shows if you hate it so much.

Oh, Nap! Guess What I Saw.

So the boyfriend and I went on a long bike ride in Malibu on Sunday, starting and ending in Zuma Beach. When we took off, there were some organizers setting up a banner and an amp, and by the time we returned, a straight-up revival was in effect. Hymns, testifying, the whole nine.

I can't pass up a revival, y'all. Especially these days, when it's starting to look like Catholic gay people will soon get stopped at the church door and asked whether they have a reservation, Sky Bar style. So we went in for a closer look, and the banner read "NAPPING IN THE SPIRIT."

Napping In The Spirit?

A new speaker grabbed the mic and began her testimony: "Hi, I'm Jewel. And I'm a napper."

I'm a napper?

Jewel thanked the previous speaker, who had to jam to LAX and catch a 7pm flight home (it was 5:15), and she implored the Lord to "just get in there and open up that freeway."

My Religi-Sense tingles when people ask the Lord to intervene in traffic. And when they call for assassinations. So we split, wondering the whole long drive home what "napping in the spirit" meant.

A quick visit to their website cleared that right up. By "napping in the spirit," they mean napping. In the Spirit. We had caught them, as luck would have it, in the middle of their MEGA-NAP.

Founder Susan M. Watkins explains:

December 4, 2003 at 8:30AM I was on my way to work driving and praying. Tears in my eyes, I became full of gratefulness and humility and I ask, "Lord what can I do for you? You've done so much for me." There was no music, no cell phone and complete silence. Five minutes into my drive the Lord began to speak to me. It was coming so fast I could not comprehend or retain it all. I pulled over and with a pen & pad; I began to write what I was hearing.

The Lord Said, " I give you a ministry: Napping in the spirit" I said, "What is that?" He said "Napping in the spirit, that's the name. It will be every Sunday from 7pm-8pm-open the doors to your home between those hours. I will meet my people there every Sunday between those hours. (Exact) I want them to come and talk to me. I will meet them there at that exact time. It's the most important appointment of their life. All must bring blanket, mat, pillow to lay on the floor. There will be yoga stretching, opening prayer, word of God tape and quiet time (all in one hour). You will send invitations through the mail with a flyer."

First of all, God is organized, detailed and direct. He should have tried out to be a contestant on "Apprentice: Martha Stewart," because He would have a solid chance at winning.

Second, I've been sleeping through Mass since as far back as I can remember. I had no idea how holy I was! Kick ass!

Still, Zuma is a real shlep from my place, and the Lord usually allows far too much traffic on the PCH, so I'll be starting my own ministry. It may be one of these:

• Reading The First 60-75 Pages Of Books For Jesus.
• Together We Search Online For Pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal With His Shirt Off, a Christian Fellowship.
• Letting That Call Go To Voicemail In Praise.

Feel free to join! I will send invitations through the mail with a flyer.

From the October ESQUIRE

Whose the copy editor over there, anyway?

So long, sucksters!

I'm sick of Friendster Blogs being down.

You're sick of emails telling you when I've posted something new.

So this blog is a-moving. Find me <a href="http://bloggaplease.blogspot.com/">here.</a>.

Bookmark it, yo!

Time Was On My Side

Video Fun Friday!!!

Oh, I'd love to write a nice long entry about Courtney & Eminem, or Cindy Sheehan, or how Death Cab is about to become the Christian Laettner of indie rock, but I just got Comcast On Demand and a LoveSac, so we'll get to all that another time.

Let's all watch TV! Here are some of my current favorite videos:

• The NY Attorney General fined Hot-97 $240,000 for putting this on the radio, and I think it's worth every penny. By the way, the first thing we hear is that Kemeisha needs this fy-hunnit for textbooks; what does Eliot Spitzer need $240,000 for?
• Courtesy of The Malcontent, an advance look at Brokeback Mountain. It comes out in early December; I'll be lining up outside Graumann's Chinese around Halloween. Who's with me?
• The inside story of the acrimonious future break-up of King Ten.

Enjoy! If you need me, I'll be ass-deep in The Facts of Life. The Piekarski year!