Monday, February 26, 2007

Final scorecard

Wot's this, then? Ellen was at best "low-key" and at worst "tacky"? She did an awesome job hosting the Oscars! She was a delight every time she was onscreen. Her bits in the crowd were ten times better than Chris Rock's/Jon Stewart's shoehorned schtick was in the past two years. I have to say that Ellen was a high water mark for the ceremony, ranking amongst Steve Martin's and Billy Crystal's best efforts. Certainly, she kicked Whoopi's ass.

I had the awards mostly right, only losing my way on "The Departed" for Best Adapted Screenplay and Alan Arkin for Best Supporting Actor.

Arkin? What the shit?

Did anyone see this movie? He was in it for fifteen minutes. In that time he ate friend chicken, snorted heroin, growled, and died. Herloh!? Anyone out there? In a weak-ass flick, his might well have been the least rendered role of them all. But then again, me and Ken Watanabe are sick and tired of all things "Little Miss Sunshine."

Note to Laura Ziskin -- fewer montages in the first three hours, and mo' awards.

Watch it, comment on it, share it

My wife put together this trailer for the paperback edition of her book "Girlbomb" with the directorial assistance of the marvelous Katherine Fitzgerald, and it kicks the total ass. Rate it, share it, comment on it, view it, and buy the book. We need your money to go to Belize this year.

Saturday, February 24, 2007


People are saying the Gay Super Bowl is hard to handicap this year? Bullshit, I retort. Watch me ace this fucker:

Best Picture: The Departed

Best Director: Martin Scorsese

Best Actor: Forest Whitaker

Best Actress: Helen Mirren

Best Supporting Actor: Eddie Murphy

Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson

Best Original Screenplay: Little Miss Sunshine

Best Adapted Screenplay: Borat - Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

Best Animated Film: Cars

Best Cinematography: Pan's Labyrinth

Unlike past years, the fields seem more locked-in than ever before. The so-called "wide open races" that people are predicting are a fantasy. In fact, the one race I'll say there could be haziness is Best Actor, because of the massive sympathy that Peter O'Toole will garner in this one.

Other than that, we can compare scorecards Monday morning. Good luck Ellen!

Friday, February 23, 2007


Because Warren Ellis put this in my brain, I've no choice but to think this poison into others. But at least we now know what Tom Sizemore is up to these days.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Sort of tells its own story

Dave: So, you mean to tell me that this hobby horse can fly me into my dreams?

Steve: Pretty much. It's a magical hobby horse.

Ralph: It's magical. That's how it works.

Dave: Hmm... feels right. It feels... sorta magical.

Steve: Magic, right there in the seat.

Dave: That's an awful lot of money for this magical hobby horse, fellas.

Ralph: That's fair market value for a magic horse. How many others you seen today?

Dave: Err, none. Can I take it out for a spin? Y'know, to see just how magical it is?

Steve: Can't do that, broseph. How do we know you'll bring it back?

Dave: You do have a point. But, won't a grown man on a wooden hobby horse in this parking lot look strange, even if it is magical?

Steve: It'll draw stares, alright -- stares of awesomeness! Everyone will be so envious of you!

Ralph: Right! Imagine it! Now, I hate to insist, but we have other interested parties -- so you want it, or what?

Dave: Alright, alright -- it's a deal. Fifteen magical beans for this enchanted hobby horse.

Steve: Done... and... done. It's all yours, bud. Happy flying!

Ralph: Heh, heh, sucker...

Dave: Heh... suckers...

[Editor's note: The wooden horse is magical. The value of magic beans, however, has depreciated in the withering magic bean-related commodities market slump. Dave, in fact, got the better end of this transaction. Thank you.]

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

What's in the workplace refrigerator?

That's a good question, and it's one that I asked myself this afternoon as I ambled into the workplace kitchen.

Zounds! Bullshit! Fucking Diet Sunkist!? Seltzer? What, is this my grandmother's fridge? Where's the goddamn Tang?

Those buzzards I call coworkers have drained every last drop of ginger ale. All the Dr. Pepper is gone. There's not a single can of Diet Coke with Lemon. You can forget about finding a can of Nestea. Looking for Pepsi One? Fuck that shit.

Nothing. Not a damn thing. Not even a Mr. Pibb for your troubles. By the looks of it, the six-pack of diet orange was hit pretty hard, suggesting that someone got desperately thirsty enough to drink that chilled bathwater.

And the funny thing is, I don't even drink soda.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Sympathy for Mr. Boston

Is this a meritocracy or what? Does a man who puts the honest work into a task not deserve a fair grab at the brass ring?

I'm talking about Mr. Boston.

I'm talking about a double standard... or at the very least, declining standards.

New York is keeping on such dimwits as 12-Pack, Chance, and Whiteboy around -- but no love at all for Mr. Boston? That dude won in every way a guy could possibly win in a single episode! First, he scores huge points with the little girl party thing, and then he made mad-crazy romance with New York on the date he earned out the former. Then, in the boxing match with that wiry little malcontent Chance, he got the shit knocked out of his nose and took it like a man.

And his reward? New York gave over medallions to lesser men. Mr. Boston, you are out. Out-zo. Out-erino. Out-ington. Out-a-palooza. The Greater Out-Ford Area Chamber of Commerce Annual Potluck and Community Raffle held for thirteen years running in the Our Lady of the Sacred Outs Church basement.

If I know a thing or two about VH1, it's that their shows are all about HEART. Big, dedicated, beating HEART. The hero wins, the good guy gets the girl, the bad guy is vanquished, the one chick horks a huge loogie all over the other. There's no reason to see a good man take a fall just so a gay stripper like 12-Pack can move on. And seriously, how many more episodes will it take for Chance to stab someone with a lobster fork?

I'm just saying that a mistake has been made, and it took until the first commercial break of Studio 60 to get over it. I spill some Strawberry Quik on the carpet for you, Mr. Boston, my homie no longer here.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Family reunion

Oh my god! Uncle Larry! Is that you? It's been at least a decade since I saw you last. How are you, you old so-and-so? I guess you lost a little bit of the mane up top, huh? I guess that all the men in the family... PUT YOUR FUCKIN' HANDS UP! PUT EM UP, ASSHOLE! GET EM THE FUCK UP! I'LL FUCKING CAP YOU! I'LL FUCKING DO IT! GIMME THE FUCKING MONEY! GIMME THE MONEY NOW, ASSFUCK!

Aunt Betty! Dear lord, it's so nice to see you too! I know, I have gotten big! The last time I saw you was just before I left for college. I have filled out -- of course, I do hit the gym a lot. How is cousin Rachel? Mom told me like, two year ago, that she had a son, right? I'LL FUCKING CUT YOU! GIMME THE FUCKIN' MONEY! EMPTY YOUR FUCKING WALLET IN THE BAG, YOU CUNT! I'LL FUCK YOU UP! HAND IT ALL OVER! HAND IT OVER GODDAMMIT! YOU WANT TO FUCKIN' DIE? YOU WANT A FUCKIN' HOLE IN YOUR HEAD?! DON'T FUCK THIS UP!

Roy! "Little Roy"! Roy Fields! What are you, like, 16 now? I know, not so little. What's that? All-County Greco-Roman wrestling squad? Geez, that's higher then I was able to roll. Man, that sounds awesome, Roy. It's great to hear that you've already been accpeted to ’State. What a real honor, dude. HAND IT THE FUCK OVER! DON'T FUCK THIS UP FOR EVERYONE, ASSHOLE! YOU WANT AUNT MARY TO GET FUCKIN' BRAINS ALL OVER HER COBBLER? I'LL FUCKIN' DO IT! DON'T FUCKING TEST ME! HAND OVER THE FUCKING MONEY! EVERYTHING FROM THE WALLET, TOUGH GUY! I WILL FUCK YOU UP SO HARD THEY WON'T BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU! FUCKING TEST ME! I DARE YOU!

What's that grandma? Dad's done grilling the wings and ribs? Sweet! I could eat a whole rhino I'm so hungry. FUCKING DO IT, YOU OLD BAG! I'LL PUT A PILL IN YOUR LID AND FUCK THE EXIT WOUND, YOU OLD CRONE! GIMME THE GODDAMN PURSE! DON'T FUCKING FIGHT BACK, YOU BAG OF SHIT! I'LL FUCKING END YOU! I'LL DO IT!

Monday, February 12, 2007


Konichiwa! I am Ken Watanabe, an actor who you may recognize from such films as "Tampopo," "Batman Begins," "The Last Samurai," and the Oscar-nominated "Letters from Iwo Jima." It is great to be having an impact on the films of the United States, a place which has given such inspiration in my life. I love the films of America, from Gary Cooper and Clark Gable all the way up to Billy Wilder, Spike Lee, and Francis Ford Coppola. I attribute my own success in film to those first motion pictures I watched in the Niigata prefecture of my childhood -- the attraction was inescapable, and my destiny writ. I am now here doing what I have always dreamt of, this humble child of a working-class family in Japan.

All of this is prelude to the wonderment I'm filled with -- no wait, perhaps that is not the best word. My English is still very new. I mean to say, bewilderment over the Academy Award nomination of the recent motion picture "Little Miss Sunshine." This, I cannot understand. I have watched this film, as a screener given to me by the Academy, and all I can say is that if this is what makes an Oscar-worthy picture in the minds of voters perhaps they should wait for the sequel to "Dude, Where's My Car?" At least that holds up under the scrutiny of repeat viewings. I have started watching many American television programs ever since I purchased a home for myself in California, and while I enjoy thirty minutes of slapstick and broad humor as rendered by Charlie Sheen, I have no wish to see such things stretched into a feature-length format. Where is the human drama? Here, there is only melodrama. Where is the character? I see only caricature. To think, the film "Dreamgirls" would most likely have been nominated otherwise. I have developed an appreciation for curvy black women since moving to Los Angeles, especially those who have failed to compete at the highest levels of your televised talent contests.

Perhaps my next film project will pair me with that American film favorite Madea, another voluminous black woman who stirs my blood. This might also have a fair chance of Oscar success, provided a great deal of the picture features she and myself pushing a yellow automobile in hopes of starting the engine.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Just dropping you a note

Dear mom and dad,

Seeing as to how I got to Phoenix six months ago, I realize it's been a while between letters. I just thought I'd write to tell you about how things have been going for me in the big city.

Well, I'm making a lot of friends here... it's just as I thought it would be. People are really welcoming to newcomers, I suppose because Phoenix is pretty much a city full of emigrants from other parts of the country. As soon as I got an apartment, I started to meet my neighbors... and their roommates, and their roommates' friends... and so on. I feel like I've been here for years with the network of folks I've met.

Even better, my job at the Barnes and Noble is a lot of fun. There's this girl I work with, Sammy... suffice it to say I'm interested, but she is my manager. I remember what you always told me, dad, about workplace relationships -- especially with superiors -- so I'm taking it slow. You'd be proud of me... I think you'd both be proud of me these days.

Yeah, so, things are going really well here. It's always summer, it seems, and people always have smiles on their faces. Well, gotta go. Give my love to Uncle Conrad and Aunt Ginny. Make sure you take your pills dad, and don't give mom such a hard time about it.


Erik "Thunderwing" Braunsen,
Southwest Regional Competitive Buffalo
Chicken-Wing Eating Champion, 2006