Mr. Spears Rocks (Mr. Spears)

Yeeeeyah booooy-eeeee! Where you at now haters? Know what I'm sayin? Now that my boy K-Fed has unleashed his dope rhymes on your untalented, not-screwing-Britney, working for a living, simple-ass asses, it's time to represent, haters, so where you at, yo?

You knew my man K-Fed was gonna bring it hard, like only a kept man, former backup dancer, and white-guy-with braids whose wife bought him a recording studio can BRING IT. And bring it hard he does. Like Vanilla hard. I'm talking Timberlake hard, G.

BACK UP DANCER HARD.

I know y'all haters is hard to please so it's a good thing my boy has a chance to unleash da skillz with his new dope single "Popozao." Yeeeeeyah booooy-eeee, that's Popozao, which means something Brazilian and about asses. When you be rollin like my boy, you like them Brazilian asses, or at least, when your wife is all knocked up and bloated with your baby and all that, know what I'm sayin, you gotta hit some of that Popozao. Word. Talk about keepin it real. Asses. Brazilian asses, yo. Popozao!

Not only that, but check the video here for a clip of my boy showing us all how to appreciate his own lyrical skillz.

Watch the head nod. Watch the hand bob. See the self-satisfied smile of the true pimp. Listen to the beatz that your nephew could have programmed in his iMac in about five minutes. Watch my boy yell "that's fire!" like he's personally getting in line behind Paris Hilton and "that's hot." Watch him rock his own self with the worst song you've ever heard. That's how a pimp keeps it real, yo.

And if you don't know, now you know.

Where Are They Now: Charles in Charge Edition

We all know what's become of "Charles in Charge" mega-hunk Scott Baio (a string of mostly forgettable TV guest spots, plus a recent, less forgetabble spot on "Arrested Development"). But what about the other stars of this seminal mid-80's hit?

Willie Ames, aka Buddy Lembeck, now plays the title role in a straight-to-video series called Bibleman, in which he defeats evil through prayer and the "sword of truth." More info on Buddy at the Willie Ames Worship Site (motto: "It's clean, and the people are friendly.")

Things haven't been quite so sweet for Nicole Eggert (Jamie Powell), who, since her star stint on "Baywatch," has mostly been acting in TV movies with clever titles like "Snowman's Pass," "Wall of Secrets" and "Murder Seen"(get it? Murder Seen?) She also has the crappiest fan site ever.

And Josie Davis, the more awkward, nerdy Powell sister? Nothing too exciting in the career department, unless you consider a special guest spot on "Two and a Half Men" exciting. But she's all grownsed up now, and possibly hotter than Nicole Eggert (in a somewhat plasticy way), which must make her feel good about herself.

Meanwhile, the Pembroke kids (the first family Charles was in charge of, until low ratings got them kicked out of their own house and replaced by the more camera-ready Powells)? Apparently getting booted from "Charles in Charge" is like the industry kiss of death, because those kids have flown into the Hollywood Bermuda Triangle and never come back out. If your most recent acting credit is either "Parker Lewis Can't Lose" or (worse) "Kate and Allie" ... well, that's pretty much the definition of Disappeared.

Maybe it was a bad omen that Michael Pearlman, who played Jason Michael Pembroke on "Charles" before spinning out into Hollywood oblivion, started his acting career in a film called "One Trick Pony."

Press Release of the Week: Don't Call It a Comeback

Hello, friends! It's been a while since I traversed the smelly, swampy territories of Public Relations Land, so I was happy to see, upon this week's re-entry, that pretty much nothing has changed. America's wandering hordes of PR droids are still working hard to keep you informed about this country's hottest products and/or services. You've really got to love those guys. What they may lack in honesty, sense of humor or self-awareness they more than make up for in pure gumption and go-gettedness. And if that's not what America is all about, I don't know what is. Git 'er done!

Speaking of America, I can't tell you how disappointed I've been in Hollywood lately. Not because of its crappy, poorly produced big-budget movies, or even the sad breakup of Brad and Jen (though, I did cry. Who didn't?). No, what makes me disappointed in Hollywood is its rampant ANTI-AMERICANISM. Good Night, and Good Luck? More like Journalist With an Agenda Makes It a Bad Night for America, and The Commies Win! Syriana? More like Pollyana! And don't even get me started on those Harry Potter movies. Why don't we just hand out pentagrams to America's schoolchildren and tell them to have fun eschewing Christ and practicing the Dark Arts? Sheesh!

Thankfully, I'm not the only person who's had enough. The appropriately named Michael S. Class, head of the Motion Picture Frame Studio, has established the American Values Award as an alternative to those pinkos and homosexuals who control the Oscars and the Golden Globes.

This year's winner is End of the Spear, about some white Christian missionaries who lived among a savage tribe of uncivilized peoples in Ecuador and got them to stop their killing ways. See, it's a film with a powerful message about love. And God. And how the white folks can have a positive impact on the savage dark-skinned folks if the savage dark-skinned folks will just stop running around like crazies, sit down, and listen!

"Class believes that many of the films being honored by the Golden Globes or the Academy(R) are not reflective of the majority of Americans' tastes or values. He chose End of the Spear for its emphasis on spiritual growth and finding God -- in Whom most Americans do still believe."

Class also selected Cinderalla Man, "a story of commitment to family during the Great Depression"; The Chronicles of Narnia, "a morality play based on the New Testament of the Holy Bible"; The Greatest Game Ever Played, "a story of good sportsmanship"; and -- wuuuh? -- Harry Potter? E tu, Mr. Class? Maybe you think it's a movie about "good triumphing over evil," but in my book, good equals Jesus, not Atheist Magic. For shame, sir! For shame!

Also on the PR front this week is an announcement from AMS, a company that "helps radio stations expand into new markets," to America's radio station owners (all four of them): There is Absolutely No Need to Freak Out, People, Everything Is Absolutely Fine.

According to a survey conducted by AMS, only 12% of Americans are likely to purchase satellite radio to listen to Howard Stern, who recently made the switch to Sirius. Which is hardly anyone at all! Or, well, roughly 35 million people, if the results are extrapolated from the 1,000 survey respondents to the full American population (something AMS claims can be accurately done within 3 percentage points). Which would be a pretty good bost to Sirius' business.

In all, 69% of the survey respondents said they were "not at all likely" to purchase satellite radio in the near future. So congratulations, conventional radio! You've managed to convince more than half of all Americans to do ... well, nothing, I guess.

"We have long suspected that all the national media interest in Stern and satellite radio did not reflect what was going on with the American consumer," said Ed Seeger, President and Chief Executive Officer of American Media Services (AMS), who then drew the shades of his office window before saying "Fire? In the street? I can't see any fire."

AMS also reports on some of what people "liked best about conventional radio," based on the survey. The top two answers? "Local traffic and weather information" and "it's always available when you need it." So, again, congrats, Radio Industry. People like you because you're there! Not always dynamic or interesting, but "around," like that one friend you only hang out with when everyone else is out of town, the one who'll always meet you for a drink because he has absolutely nothing better to do. Huzzah! Way to shoot for the stars!

I Want My Time Back

Okay, look: I think James Frey is kind of an ass, and it makes me angry that he could take a poorly written novel no publisher wanted to buy, call it a memoir and suddenly not only have a best-seller on his hands but also a book that people – rather inexplicably – called “moving” and “important.”

But suing James Frey for the “lost time” consumers spent reading the book? C’mon, people.

Though, if this is now a possibility, I’d like to sue the following people:

--Captain John Smith and pretty much every other Puritan who ever put pen to paper
--James Fennimore Cooper
--Adam Sandler
--Everyone involved with the film “Once Upon a Time in Mexico”
--People magazine, Us Weekly, et al
--“The War at Home”

Kanye West, Christ, to Battle Rap at Source Awards

And as I used to be a member of the JC Posse, I got an advance look at Christ's supernatural flow:

Yo Kanye West, What’s Up with Thee?
Frontin’ on Me, the Big JC?
On the Rolling Stone Cover, I See?
Brother, don’t you know I created thee?
One time you worshiped me
But now you so fly you dissin’ thee
Because when you diss me
You diss yo-self, G.
And I ain’t have’n that, no sirree.

‘Cause their ain’t no God-damn unless I say it,
There ain’t no funky beats unless I play it
The party don’t stop ‘til My Father say it
And there ain’t no Kanye West until I clay it.

My heavenly choir
Will never tire
Nor my beats expire
They ring from the spire
Round and round the earth they go
Where they stop only My Father know.
So I just keep rappin’ on and on, and on and on and on
On and on, on and on and on, on and on, on and on and on,
On and on, on and on and on…

Why you interuppin? You tellin’ me to move over, Rover?
Cause I ain’t gonna stop till Hell freezes over…
What’s that? Excuse me? It’s your turn?
All I gotta say is: Burn baby burn!

Uh yeah uh yeah
(to infinity…literally)

NEXT WEEK: Alien Queen Battle Raps Predator

And Starring Joe Killiany as Higgins

They're remaking Magnum, PI. Not a campy, dopey, look at how funny it is that we all took this seriously remake. A real one. Apparently.

Stock in thigh-high OP corduroy shorts just went way up.

Kistulentz, call your agent.

Snacktime With Ralp Macchio

I recently became the proud owner of a June 1982 issue of Tiger beat STAR. For the uninitiated, Tiger beat was (is? I’d Google it, but that would just be one more hard-to-explain item in my NSA file) a magazine aimed at teenaged girls infatuated with celebrity boys – Scott Baio, Matt Dillon, Rick Springfield and the two Coreys both graced their share of Tiger beat covers in their teen heartthrob days. And Tiger beat STAR was … well, seemingly just a way for Tiger beat to sell two magazines instead of one each month to every single American girl between the ages of eight and sixteen.

In the June 1982 issue, there’s an article about Scott Baio’s upcoming record (Sample quote: Scott’s aiming for tunes that are gently melodic and have a danceability to them. It won’t be super hard rock with heavy guitars). There’s a section called “Marriage On Their Minds” in which various male stars talk about their dream girls (Sample quote, from some guy named Chris Atkins: I believe in lots of touching and holding hands). There’s an article entitled “John Stamos: New Kid in Town” (John’s 18 and has soft brown hair and the deepest blue eyes!). And there’s a contest in which readers are asked to answer, in 25 words or less, why they’re “stuck on Styx” (Go ahead, admit it! You’re head over heels about Styx. It’s okay – there are thousands of people who feel the exact same way. It’s a good feeling, because Styx and their music never let you down!)

But by far the best – and creepiest – feature is a thing called “Ralph: Let’s Meet for Treats … Just You and Me!” in which the reader is asked to imagine herself sharing various meals with Karate Kid star Ralph Macchio. I have no way of reproducing the pictures, which are absolutely priceless. So you’ll just have to imagine a bushy-haired Daniel-son wearing various spread-collar shirts while pretending to enjoy the “tasty treats” mentioned in the article:

“Pull up a chair and sit next to Ralph Macchio in the darkest, coziest booth in the restaurant – their specialty is pizza! Or how about a long walk along the beach topped off with a delicious delicacy from the seaside doughnut stand? Sharing a snack with Ralph is a real treat – anytime, anywhere!

“Mama mia, how Ralph goes for pizza! (He wouldn’t be Italian if he didn’t.) Don’t be shy about eating a gooey slice in front of Ralph – he knows there’s no delicate way of munching pizza – just dig in!

“The next time a doughnut craving strikes you, try this game with Ralph – make him close his eyes tightly, march him to the doughnut display case and have him point ‘eenie-meenie-minie-moe’-style to the doughnut he’d like you to eat!

“Ralph’s smart at breakfast – he snaps, crackles and pops his way through the morning with a heaping bowl of cereal and milk! But of course by lunchtime he’s worked himself into the mood for a strawberry split (he’d love it if you’d offer to feed it to him – romantic!!)

“Ralph’s not the kind of guy who’d try to impress you at a restaurant by ordering fancy wine (he knows neither one of you would want to drink it anyway!) – he’d settle for a steaming mug of hot chocolate (and race you to see who gets his marshmallows down to the bottom of the cup first)! Just clink your glasses together and enjoy your sweets!

And if that doesn't give you nightmares, my friends, then nothing will.

The Golden Barrelys

Last night was the Golden Globes. Apparently. As usual, I haven't seen enough good movies to weigh in on what should and shouldn't have won there, but I sure have seen a lot of TV.

Below are my takes on who should have won what, plus some special awards, along with some categories (The Golden Barrelys, named after our fictional mascot, Barrely Barrelhouse) that should have been included.

Series, Drama:

• Won: Lost
  
• Should Have Won: Rome
  
• Strangely Not In Consideration, Maybe Because of Some Rule Thing I'm Not Understanding: Six Feet Under
  
• The Buffy Award for the Best Show That Will Likely Never Get An Award for Anything Ever: Rescue Me
  
• Most Likely to Be Better Than All These Shows Next Season: The Wire, The Sopranos

Series, Musical or Comedy:

• Won: Desperate Housewives
  
• Should Have Won: Arrested Development
  
• Maybe Even Better Than Arrested Development But Since It's a Cartoon, Well, You Know: South Park
  
• Also Better Than Desperate Housewives: Weeds, The Office, Entourage, Curb Your Enthusiasm, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
  
• Where Oh Where Have You Gone: Chappelle's Show
  
• Please Stop Nominating Before You Embarrass Yourselves: Desperate Housewives
  
• Not to Get Ahead of Ourselves or Anything, but Does This Maybe Mean We're Finally Done With: Fat Men with Hot Wife Sitcoms, Will and Grace

Actress, Drama:

• Won: Geena Davis, Commander in Chief
  
• Should Have Won: Polly Walker, Rome; Kristin Bell, Veronica Mars
  
• Buffy Award for Cute Blond Acress in a Kickass Series Who Will Never Be Recognized Because She is Too Cute and Blond: Kristin Bell, Veronica Mars

Actor, Drama:

• Won: Hugh Laurie, House
  
• Should Have Won: Peter Krause or Michael C. Hall, Six Feet Under (I dont know, maybe Six Feet Under wasn't eligible or something, or maybe both of these guys would be considered supporting. I know what they did in this past season of Six Feet was way better than limp around and yell at everybody).
  
• Should Have Won If We're Assuming The Dudes from Six Feet Under Can't Win, and Also Only because the Sopranos and The Wire weren't on): Denis Leary, Rescue Me

Actor, Series, Musical or Comedy:

• Won: Steve Carell, "The Office"
  
• Should Have Won: Steve Carell

Actress, Series, Musical or Comedy:

• Won: Mary-Louise Parker, Weeds
  
• Should Have Won: Mary-Louise Parker
  
• Strangely Not Nominated: Lauren Graham, Gilmore Girls
  
• Time is Running Out Fast For: Teri Hatcher, Desperate Housewives

THE GOLDEN BARRELYS:

Best Unintentional Comedy, Reality Edition:

• Taradise
  
• Honorable Mention: Tom Cruise, Oprah Winfrey Show, George Bush, "You're doin' a heckuva job, Brownie," sound bite

Best Unintentional Comedy Moments, Drama:

• "Public Shool" on The OC
  
• Honorable Mention: "Writing Workshop" on The L Word

Best Unintentionally Hilarious Host of a Reality TV Show:

• Tara Reid, Taradise
  
• Honorable Mention: Donald Trump, The Apprentice, Tyra Banks, America's Top Model

Best Intentionally (I Think) Hilarious Actor in a Reality TV Program:

• Flava Flav

Best Unintentionally Hilarious Actor in a Reality TV Program:

• Jonathan Antin, Blow Out
  
• Honorable Mention: Bobby Brown, Being Bobby Brown

Best Unintentionally Hilarious Evil Supporting Actor in a Reality TV Program:

• Scott from Zorbit, Blow Out

Best Actress in a Reality TV Program:

• Whitney Houston, Being Bobby Brown
  
• Honorable Mention: Adrienne Curry, My Fair Brady

I'm Still Not Getting Whether Its Real or Fake But I Don't Like It:

• Laguna Beach

Best Comedy, Musical, and/or Cartoon:

• South Park

Best Leading Actor in a Cartoon:

• Stewie Griffin, Family Guy

Best Supporting Actor in a Cartoon:

• Chef, South Park

Best Supporting Acress in a Comedy:

• Jaime Pressley, My Name is Earl

Best Supporting Actor (Who is Also a Former Hair Metal Singer) in a Comedy:

• Sebastian Bach, Skid Row, The Gilmore Girls

Biggest Jackass/Blowhard:

• Dr. Phil
  
• Honorable Mention: Bill O' Reilly

Best in Show:

• The Daily Show

Names attached to spam emails I've received that I wish belonged to actual friends of mine

--Lutz Abfahrt
--Leber Atomkrieg
--taddy-o
--chewman33
--drunken_rice
--Presbyterianize
--wolfonthehunt
--Sir Perkins
--puppetlover2000
--Batman S. Revealing
--Mittens G. Mismanagement
--Doctor

Also, I know our Spam Poetry invitational has long since passed, but this is perhaps my favorite spam subject-line ever: Did you know that Rasputin's penis was 30 cm?

The Barrelhouse Invitational: Pop Culture Essay Competition

It's a new Barrelhouse Invitational, and this time we're offering more than just the Mr. T in Your Pocket. Not that the Mr. T in Your Pocket isn't a fabulous device that is, as we've said before, appropriate for all occasions. It's just that this time we're actually offering cash money. Two hundred big ones, to be exact. Plus publication in Barrelhouse issue three.

So what is a pop culture essay? We're calling it an essay that touches on pop culture in some way. In the past, we've published essays on Barry Bonds, convenience stores, Godzilla, Magnum PI, movies (shittiness of), and rock (fleeting potency of).

So we're pretty much up for anything you can throw at us. If, along the way, we learn a little about you, the world as we know it, questions big and small, or just a whole lot that we didn't know about AC/DC or Sid and Marty Kroft or the Scooby Gang, that's all the better.

More information, details about how to enter, and all that jazz, is up on the site. Contest runs from now through St. Patrick's Day. $200 big ones for the winner, plus publication in big bad Barrelhouse number three. Second place gets $50 and publication in the same issue.

Oh, it'll run you $13 bucks to enter, but it'll be worth it.

Why I Hate Joe...(Theismann, that is)

Well, Barrelhousers, it's playoff time in the No Fun League, and that means that we get bad football games, grotesquely overextended halftimes, and coaches who should never have been hired in the first place as "special guest analysts"; Butch Davis, I am talking about you.

Which means it must be time for my what's wrong with televised sports rant.

1). I believe a fundamental requirement for a broadcasting job ought to be the ability to speak intelligible, standard English. Which means that any of the players that you have never heard of who are now analysts for FOX (JC Pearson, I am talking about you) need to consider another line of work.

2) Joe Theismann. Never has someone made so much money off of saying so many obvious things, with the possible exception of Ronald Reagan. With Tampa Bay down by a touchdown with under 2 minutes to play last Saturday, Joe T. praised Bucs coach John (Chucky) Gruden for putting the ball in the hands of his quarterback. Perhaps he wanted him to put the ball in the hands of referee Mike Carey. This is the sports equivalent of the bad editors out there who leave a sentence in a book that reads, "The dog stood there on all four paws."

3) Emphasizing the connection between Christ and the Colts. I can think of at least one person out there who didn't think Tony Dungy was such a great guy...and I can't help but wonder if, during the middle of a father's biggest success ever, a son's suicide can't be seen as anything more than a giant, "Fuck you, Dad." And I've yet to hear a single blowhard journalist (say anyone who is now or has ever been a guest on Around the Horn) broach this subject. Kudos to TMC for getting this one right on his blog.

4) Defense wins football games. Yes, unless the offense or special teams do.

5) the phrase "first down and more." This would be a key ingredient in any Mike Patrick-based drinking game. But wait, he's out of a job, so there must be a god.

6) Michael Irvin. See #1. Also see the Smoking Gun for his various mug shots.

Now, onto what the NFL needs.

1) An analyst, who, like Howard Cosell, NEVER PLAYED THE GAME. Preferably Ivy League educated, not interested in hanging around with the players. A side effect of the cosy, two-man booth is that everyone there has to buddy up to coaches, players and management in order to get those juicy tidbits that are leaked into the broadcast. "Tom Brady told me last night at our production meeting that he vomits before every game," is the kind of stuff I'm talking about. We need a designated hatchet man. Someone who could say things like this: in the next collective bargaining agreement, management ought to insist on the strongest "conduct detrimental to the team" clause in all of professional sports. Hey, you wave a gun around, or you beat up the former defensive end (first sack Hugh Douglas had in about 5 years, incidentally) you're gone. No salary cap penalty, no appeal. You're just released. You can go be someone else's problem. You can get fired from any job in America. Why not in the NFL?

2) A few more owners who understand that the game needs its fans. Take lessons from NASCAR. Let's make merchandise realistic, and affordable. If you paid 300 bucks for a jersey at the stadium, you're a moron. The league office doesn't seem to understand that you could sell 100 times as many jerseys at 75 dollars.

3) Prohibit current players from broadcasting; it is particularly painful to watch poor Rich Eisen on NFL Network try to handhold guys like Darren Sharper through an interview. And Darren asks those insightful questions like, "My man!"

Oh yeah, Darren went to my alma mater and is the only current William and Mary alum in pro football. Guess he didn't major in communications.

4) Let us in on some things that we don't see. I can go to Talladega and listen to every driver talk to his pit crew, but I've never seen one bit of video of what the referee sees under the instant replay hood; better yet, how about a MIKED UP segment on TMC's favorite referee, Ed Hochuli? Don't you think it would be a lot more interesting if we knew that some of those interminable referee conferences were really about what steak house they were going to after the game?

Your ideas?

Open memo to Paul Tagliabue and Ed Browne: my consulting fee is $300/hour, against a $10,000 retainer, and first class travel. If I don't get you .5 points across the board, I'll refund every dime.

We're not saying anyone will get naked, but you never know.

This Saturday, from 8-10 p.m., we will celebrate the release of Barrelhouse #2 in the only way we know how: with ample amounts of fiction, booze and barrelhousing.

Here is the information that you should punch into your cell, Palm, or Blackberry right now:

Barrelhouse #2 Release party

Saturday Jan 7, 2006
8:00-10:00 PM
Asylum, 2471 18th Street, NW (Adams Morgan)

$5 cover (all proceeds go to Barrelhouse)

Starting at 8:30, the editors will be reading a few selections from the new issue. Dont' worry. You'll not only like the stuff, but it will be material absolutely appropriate for reading in a bar.

That's just how we roll.

Also, you can participate in the first annual Barrelhouse pop culture quiz and win an original airbrushed caricature of Patrick Swayze, a Mr. T in Your Pocket, or original photography featured in Barrelhouse #2.

Now be honest. Who else would offer you an airbrushed Swayze? A Mr. T In Your Pocket? Come'on. Tell us. Who would do it?

That's right.

Nobody.

You can get more info here: http://www.barrelhousemag.com/launch2.html

It's Alive!!!!

If you’re the type of person who notices things, you may have noticed that Barrelhouse Issue Two is finally available . The theme of the issue is “better late than never,” or “good things come to those who wait,” or “holy shit those guys at Barrelhouse sure are taking their sweet-ass time with this thing.”

We apologize for the delay. But mounting a sequel to Barrelhouse Issue One presented a daunting challenge. How do you improve upon greatness? After all, nearly universal praise had been heaped at the feet of Issue One: glowing reviews from the likes of National Public Radio (“the greatest addition to the literary canon since Beowulf”), Thomas Pynchon (“I’ll come out of hiding for only two things: a Simpsons guest spot or to pick up the newest issue of Barrelhouse”) and Bill O’Reilly (“It’s like The O’Reilly Factor For Kids, but for adults!”).

There were ticker-tape parades in our home towns, meetings with foreign dignitaries, lunches with the literati, pajama parties at the Playboy Mansion (private memo to P. Shore: Stop calling us!). And the booze. Oh, the booze.

It was Dave who finally got things back on track. “Listen,” he said one morning, pulling himself out of a hotel bathtub filled with champagne-soaked hundred dollar bills. “We used to be about the music.”

Aaron quickly reminded Dave that we were a literary journal, not a band.

“Whatever,” Dave said. “You’ve been trying to undermine me from the beginning. And you know what? Your looks are becoming a problem!”

Eventually, Joe pried the two apart and then, as “The Love Theme from St. Elmo’s Fire” rose to a crescendo – or maybe it was “The Way We Were” – all three Barrelhousers remembered what it was that made the original project so great: love.

Not that kind of love, sicky. The kind of non-sexual love that exists between men who respect and rely on each other. Like Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. Or Batman and Robin. Or Siegfried and Roy.

Quickly, calls were placed. To Mike, who was raising dairy cattle somewhere in the Midwest and contemplating a solo project. To Gwydion, who’d been locked in his house for weeks, ingesting large quantities of peyote and composing strange minimalist poetry with his new girlfriend, Katrinka, a former silver-medal gymnast from Belarus. To Anastasia, designer extraordinaire, who’d moved to the Caribbean and taken up snorkeling.

The team thus assembled, one question still remained: how to make a good sequel? One that was less The Next Karate Kid and more Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo. Writers were queried. An interview was set up. Pictures were taken. A cartoon was drawn. Many, many caffeinated beverages were consumed. Finally, a new issue began to take shape. The final result is something we’re pretty darned proud of. Stories about drug-addled basketball players and fried chicken and strange voodoo-like wooden heads. Essays about Barry Bonds and Godzilla and gas stations in the middle of nowhere. An interview with Ian McKaye, of Fugazi and Dischord Records fame. And a very special Patrick Swayze section.

How much would you expect to pay for such greatness? $200? $500? One million dollars?

Would you believe that all this can be yours for one easy payment of $9 (plus shipping)? We're crazy over here. But wait, there’s more … act now and we’ll throw in several poems and a comic story, “Sex and Pills,” absolutely free. That’s right … consider it our gift to you, loyal reader.

You can order the issue here and it will be shipped right to your door. You don’t even have to get out of your pajamas!

Happy 2006

The New York Times today takes on hangover cures. Though, if you're hungover, do you really feel like reading a wordy Times article? Probably not.

My advice: a Gatorade, one DayQuil gel tab, four to five gulps of Pepto Bismol. Enjoy!