Swayze Falls, Final Four Set, Lethem Battles Mr. T

The final four is set: Mr. T, Jonathan Lethem, McSweeneys, and...wait for it...Jonathan Safran Foer.

That's right. Safran Foer edged Swayze by a single vote. I don't know what kind of supermofo juju Safran Foer is working in this alternate universe we've created, but just between you and me, I don't even think that guy wears a mullet. How he beat down Swayze is beyond me. Maybe some kind of butterfly ballot situation, or maybe too many people caught Father Hood on TNT last weekend.

In any case, the final four is set, and today Mr. T takes on Jonathan Lethem.

Keep in mind that in the past Mr. T has defeated such foes as AC/DC, John Wilkes Booth, Christopher Moltisanti from the Sopranos, and Harry Potter.

Quit your jibber jabber, fool, and get on over there to vote.

locked inside your heart shaped blister pack four whole weeks...

sure i dont feel weird that ozzy ozburne, alice cooper, kiss, and numerous other musical icons have action figures of some sort. i'm sure the wu tang clan probably have something... i've seen various beatle's figures (yellow subarine versions, sgt pepper's versions, probably vishnu versions).... elvis has to... i bet there's a market for hendrix with left handed guitar action grip or mamma cass complete with deadly ham sandwich...

but kurt?


icons... maybe the should be immortalized in ways that they can stand on your shelf and represent what they meant to you in the slice of society you lived in.
is it different than the ancient greeks putting their statues of apollo or hermes in front of their house, often complete with big peckers?
or is it more like turning kurt into a garden gnome?
do i have issues with it cause kurt's not history to me? cause he's contemporary in my mind? ozzy and kiss, though still around are my dad's, uncle's, older cousin's, etc, contemporaries...

i had a clash song on my cell phone.
i like my joy division tshirt.
i'm not against marketing and capitalism and all the nonsense that comes with it.
high school bands play watered down led zeppelen songs on the football field. and i've heard a red hot chilli peppers musak rendition that included banjos. and usually i just snicker at the sheer rediculousness it can reach....
but sometimes it leaves me feeling.... a little... je ne sais quoi. but t'aint good. i'll tell you that.

just thought i'd throw it out there. and if you all would join me in a lounge rendition of "all apologies"....

All That Glitters

Mariah Carey will soon have more number 1 songs than the Beatles. That is the sobering, crazy-ass, nonsensical, completely fucked up news brought to us by the New Yorker’s Sasha Frere-Jones in her article "On Top" (thanks to the always entertaining Backwards City blog for the link).

Crazy, huh? Stupid, huh? Kinda takes away any faith you might have had left in the recording industry or the taste of Americans, huh? Kinda makes you want to dig even further into your e-music, KEXP hole and never come out again, huh? Me too. As I've said before in this space, H.L. Mencken was right about us idiot American people, and he never even lived to hear "The Emancipation of Mimi" or had the pleasure of watching Glitter.

Don't get me wrong. Glitter is a fantastic, entertaining train wreck of a movie. And if Mariah can sell that many records, then I'm mystified, but more power to her. The problem with this article is that Frere-Jones actually tries to suggest that Mariah's achievements somehow transcend the Billboard charts.

To give you some idea of how wrong-headed and misled this article is, let me share my favorite quote: In some ways, Carey resembles U2, another veteran act currently having extraordinary success late in a long career.

Mariah Carey = U2.

Um...where to start? I guess at the beginning. Frere-Jones starts with the basic, Ayn Randian hypothesis that since Carey has sold so many records, there must be some intrinsic value in her music, that she must have made some kind of important contribution to American culture. This is like saying that since McDonalds has sold so many little burgers, these burgers must be the best in the world.

In trying to make this argument, Frere-Jones goes to some pretty hilarious lengths:

Not all Carey’s achievements are commercial, though: she co-wrote one of the few worthy modern additions to the holiday canon, the charming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" (from Merry Christmas, of 1994, which also happens to be the best-selling Christmas album of all time, but never mind that). And when she sang her perky dance hit "Emotions" at the 1991 MTV Video Music Awards, she reportedly sounded a G-sharp three and a half octaves above middle C, one of the highest notes produced by a human voice in the history of recorded music. (Party poopers say that the note was actually an F-sharp.)

Wha-wha-whaaaaaat? Co-writing "All I Want for Christmas is You?" Singing a, what was that again, g-sharp three and a half octaves above middle C? Really? Those are her significant non-commercial achievements?

If the article had stopped there, it might have made sense. Let's limit Mariah's contributions to these two dubious items and then just move on to how impressive it is that she's taken her ability to shriek in tune and her boobs and sold so many goddam records.

But, unfortunately, it doesn't stop there.

Frere-Jones goes on to celebrate another Mariah contribution to our culture: apparently, she's the reason crappy singers everywhere now feel the best way to get attention is to pull the microphone away from their mouths and screech up and down the scale. This is called "melisma" and Frere-Jones celebrates this contribution. At one point, she describes it in what I guess you'd call glowing terms, because I'm pretty sure she's not being ironic or sly (although, for her sake, I really hope I misread it), as a singing style in which "all" can be roughly transcribed as: "ah-ha-uh-uh-oh-oo-oh-ooah-ha-uh-uh-oh-oo-oh-oo-ah-oh."

Let me pull that out again, because I think the fact that Frere-Jones seems to think this is a good thing really says a lot about the where her head is at. In melisma:

"all" can be roughly transcribed as: "ah-ha-uh-uh-oh-oo-oh-ooah-ha-uh-uh-oh-oo-oh-oo-ah-oh."

Again, she seems to think that's good, that the world is better for the constant stream of painstaking "melisma" screeching through our radio airwaves. Anybody who has seen Jessica Simpson strain through her own constipated version of "melisma" might argue differently.

So here's the thing: Mariah Carey is famous for the exact same reason Ashlee Simpson is famous. She is famous for the same reason Kelly Osborne is famous. She has sold so many records for the same reasons N'Sync and 98 Degrees sold a shitload of records: somebody in some boardroom decided that they could move this product.

Actually, in Mariah's case it's pretty obvious who decided they could move this product: um, maybe Sony Music president Tommy Motolla, who liked this particular product so much that he not only pushed it down our throats, he married it.

Mariah has sold this many records (or I guess I should say songs, now) because Tommy and the rest of his Big Recording buddies decided we'd buy it -- and then they spent enough money on advertising, PR, product placement, corporate tie-ins, fucking happy meals -- to make goddam sure we did.

But Frere-Jones has another opinion about why people by Mariah Carey records:

Carey's freakish vocal ability explains part of her appeal. In the same way that people went to a San Francisco Giants game in order to see Barry Bonds hit a home run, people buy Carey’s records in order to hear her do things with her voice that no one else can do.

Really? Really? I don't think that's remotely true at all. If that was true, then Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan would have been the biggest recording star in the world. Then Yassou N’Dour would have starred in his own Senegalese version of Glitter and Emmylou Harris would be on the cover of Jane and Cosmo every single month.

All this striving to make sense of Mariah's success is just naïve. It's insulting. Embarrassing, actually. And blithely ignoring the fact that while she was selling a good portion of those records, she just happened to be married to the president of Sony records? I'm not a journalist, in fact I'm the opposite, but that's just bad journalism.

I'm not really bitching about the marketplace, either. I'm a good A-mur-can, after all. I've slogged my way through a few bullshit Ayn Rand books (why I can't put a book down after I've started it, no matter how fucking annoying it is, I have no idea). And sometimes the monetary scale actually works, like in golf, where players are ranked on the "money list," how much they've won in tournaments for the year. Makes perfect sense: if you've won more money than the rest of the guys, you're most likely finishing ahead of most of those guys, most of the time. And then you're probably better.

But that same logic can't be applied to music, or writing, or any form of art. Mariah Carey is going to sell more records than the Beatles. That's a fact. But the credit for that fact has to go, at least in large part, to the marketing team at Sony and whoever is selling those records nowadays, no matter how gracefully Ms. Carey might melisma up and down the scales.

I'll throw out the Usher Test here: can you sing a Mariah Carey song? One that's not "Fantasy," which stole the Tom Tom Club's "Genius of Love" and included an inspired contribution by Ol' Dirty Bastard ("me and Mariah...go back like babies and pacifiers..."). Can you? Now can you sing a Beatles song?

The Beatles recorded their last album, Let it Be, in 1970. That's 19-fucking-70, 36 years ago, and I guarantee you know at least half the songs on that album.

Mariah Carey is a product. The Beatles were artists. I might be grumpy and out of touch, but I still believe there's a big fucking difference between those two.

Swayze vs. Safran Foer

Todays matchup: Patrick Swayze vs. Safran Foer.

I don't want to editorialize too much here, so I'll just leave you with a few phrases to jog your memory: let's go with "zen surfer bank robber" or "world famous bouncer" matched up with "pretty flowing mullet" and "complete and total lack of irony." That should do the trick.

Yesterday the McSweeneys collective smacked down Franzen pretty well, earning a bid in the final four along with Mr. T and Jonathan Lethem.

Today's match will round out the final four. Get on over there and do the right thing.

McSweeneys vs. Franzen

Heavyweights battle it out today: McSweeneys vs. Jonathan Franzen.

Get on over there and vote.

Yesterday, Lethem beat Stacey Richter to secure a place, along with Mr. T, in the final four.

So here's how our final four is shaping up right now:

WEST:

Mr. T

Jonathan Lethem

EAST:

Winner of McSweeneys vs. Franzen

Winner of Swayze vs. Safran Foer

As a wise, or at least really, really rich and in-the-right-place-at-the-right-time man once said, Vote or Die.

T. Edges Willie, Writers Duke it Out

Yesterday's Mr. T vs. Willie Nelson battle was a barnburner, with T edging the Red Headed Stranger by a nose, or perhaps in this case, by a single gold chain link, in the final minutes.

Today we have a battle of the writers, with Jonathan Lethem taking on Stacey Richter.

Lethem is strong, but let's not forget that Richter defeated goliath Gene Simmons in round one. As always, every vote counts.

I'm holding out for Kevin Federline as The Thinker

Why yes, as a matter of fact, that is Britney Spears giving birth atop a bearskin rug. What, it's not obvious?

For any of you New York-based Barrelhousers, the sculpture is on display at Capla Kesting Fine Arts in Brooklyn.

According to the announcement, the piece is a "monument to pro-life." Leaving aside for a moment the problematic grammar of that phrase's construction, I've got to assume (hope?) that the sentiment is meant ironically. Though, if it is, apparently no one bothered to clue in the Manhattan Right to Life Committee, which purportedly donated materials to the project.

Gallery Co-Director Lincoln Capla said: “A superstar at Britney’s young age having a child is rare in today’s celebrity culture. This dedication honors Britney for the rarity of her choice and bravery of her decision."

Here are some more details from the announcement:

"Natural aspects of Spears’ pregnancy, like lactiferous breasts and protruding naval, compliment a posterior view that depicts widened hips for birthing and reveals the crowning of baby Sean’s head.

"The monument also acknowledges the pop-diva’s pin-up past by showing Spears seductively posed on all fours atop a bearskin rug with back arched, pelvis thrust upward, as she clutches the bear’s ears with ‘water-retentive’ hands."

Thanks (if thanks are, in fact, what's due here) to Earth Goat for the link.

Second Round Action: Mr. T vs. Willie Nelson

Well, Jonathan Safran Foer just barely beat out Vin Diesel in a battle for, well, let's just say a battle to see who gets their asses beat by West Division favorite Patrick Swayze.

Today we kick off the second round with a huge contest: Mr. T vs. Willie Nelson.

Good luck, Willie. You're gonna need it.

Press Release of the Week: The One Where I Go to Hell

When I saw this, my first thought was -- aww, that's cute, the Christians have their own personals site. Apparently it used to be called ChristianMingle, but that name was deemed too unwieldy (or perhaps too obviously religious), and now it's Relationships.com.

Really, what's to make fun of? The Jewish folks have J-Date, and for all I know there are personals sites for Muslims and Buddhists and even the Amish. Why shouldn't Christians be allowed to date others who share their core beliefs?

Except, of course, that Christians make up roughly 77% of the American population, so it shouldn't be too hard to meet another one on, say, Match.com, right? Therefore, it stands to reason that the people signing up for Relationships.com aren't just your run-of-the-mill Christians, the type who go to church every few weeks and put up a Christmas tree in December and every now and then invoke the Lord's name when they stub their toe or contract genital herpes.

This seemed to merit an investigation, so I did a little snooping on the site. Here are some of the ways its members describe themselves and their ideal partners:

"I am looking for a man that will put the Lord before himself and his wife, is stable and a good provider."

Hi, I just flew here from the 1950s, and boy are my arms tired! Please let me cook you a delicious meatloaf and then grit my teeth while assuming the missionary position!

"I am looking for God's man for my life. I don't know if this is where I will find him, but I am willing to put this out there. If you don't have your picture on the site, I won't respond to your mail."

What I really want is a deep and meaningful spiritual connection guided by our mutual love of the Lord. Also, no fatties.

"I'm interested in meeting nice Christian people to diverse in conversation with."

Usually when people use the wrong word, I can at least guess what word they were going for. But in this case I really have no idea.

"Howdy from Oklahoma! I would like to meet a man that loves Jesus with his whole heart!! ;-) Also, for him to be motivated in business and to want to be prosperous to further the kingdom."

The meek need not apply (you ain't inheritin' shit, beeotches!) Who needs to squeeze through the eye of a needle when your Hummer can simply crush the needle to bits?

"Hi there.I am looking for that specail christian girl,who is close to my age,very down to earth and has ups and downs as life does bring."

Ah, life, with the ups and then the downs. Extra points for girls who have "Footprints" taped to their refrigerators and inspirational posters on the wall. If that cat can hang in there, so can we!

"Hello my fellow brothers and sisters, First off my name is Billy I am from PA. I am really just curious but not too much. I do believe that God has someone quite different for me."

I think God has someone quite different for you too, Billy. Unfortunately, that kind of relationship is not endorsed by Relationships.com. Have fun burning in Hell!

"I would like to meet a woman who is on fire for the Lord. A woman who is committed to have the Lord at the center of a relationship. A woman with a servant's heart because mine is."

And people say conservative Christians keep their sexual desires repressed until they're feverishly bubbling up just beneath the surface. Nonsense!

Each profile on Relationships.com also includes a "core color." Since I'm not a member, I couldn't figure out what this color corresponded to. Maybe it moves from yellow to pale blue to dark blue to fire red depending on how desperate a person is? Maybe your color changes once you've thrown God's gift of virginity down the toilet (and changes again if you've recommitted yourself to chastity)? Or maybe Relationships.com is running some kind of March Madness Rapture Pool? Feel free to leave your own guesses in the comments section.

Nobody Puts Swayze in a Corner, and Diesel vs. Safran Foer

Well, that was an old-fashioned ass kicking. Mullet flowing, pants tight, eyes scrunched up and vacant, expert in not only dance but several forms of martial art, bar fighting, cross dressing, truck driving, and communist repelling, Patrick Swayze just wiped the floor with (Barrelhouse number one contributor) Steve Almond.

In retrospect, that may not have been a very fair matchup. Swayze has been much celebrated on this blog, on our site, and in the pages of Barrelhouse. Oh, and he's also made a bunch of shitty yet fabulous movies, and even a few good ones (some day we'll share the Secret of the Patrick Swayze Personality Test in a more public venue, but not today).

Well, Steve Almond. We love you, with all the sex and the candy and the funny. You even gave us an essay, although nobody had ever heard of us, and for that we'll always be grateful. It's not you. It's us. Unfair matchup. Our bad.

And today's matchup should be fascinating: Vin Diesel vs. Jonathan Safran Foer.

I think that statement speaks for itself: Vin Diesel vs. Jonathan Safran Foer.

Democracy in action. Every vote counts.

Swayze vs. Almond

Okay, so the writers on a roll now, despite my impassioned plea to Remember Old Dirty Bastard yesterday. Clearly I have no impact on these proceedings, and not enough of my moron friends are voting.

Be that as it may, today's matchup should be interesting: Patrick Swayze vs. Steve Almond

One is known for his smart, funny short stories. The other is known for his dumb, long movies. One created the best short story title of all time, "The Idea of Michael Jackson's Dick." The other starred in the best bad movie of all time, "Road House" (as well as number two, "Point Break").

Both have been featured quite prominently in the pages of Barrelhouse, although we would ask you to not hold that against either one of these accomplished artists.

Since my endorsement clearly means nothing, and I'm torn on this one myself, and since its worked out so well in our past two presidential elections, we'll let The People sort out who is better in every way.

Have at it.

Barrelhouse presents Take that Hill

Movie-watching and Barrelhousing.

They're two great tastes that go great together, which is why Barrelhouse is presenting Take that Hill, a series of readings and short films in various cities throughout the great northeast. The first is going down at the Warehouse Theater’s screening room in Washington, DC, this Friday, March 24 at 8 P.M.

Here's what you’ll get if you come:

• Readings from Barrelhouse #1 ('Cool'), #2 (‘Three Piece Combo with Drink,’ and ‘Ft. Smith Arkansas’) and the Barrelhouse website ('Go Fish').
• Screenings of short films by Kylos Brannon ('An Impression: Dischord Records' and 'Exploratory Surgery'), Bert Mains ('The T of Pennsylvania'), Andy Bely ('Bread Story'), and Rachel Max ('Dead Kitty').
• Shitloads of revelry.

Here's the pertinent info:

When: Friday, March 24 at 8 P.M.
Where: The Warehouse Theater's Screening Room, 1017-1021 7th Street, NW, Wash, DC
Admission: $5 at the door
More information on the movies and the stories: www.myspace.com/take_that_hill

McSweeneys vs. The Wu Tang Clan

In heavy voting yesterday, Jonathan Franzen overtook Shaquille O' Neal with a second half flurry of votes. The writers have come back, with recent victories by Lethem, Richter, and Franzen.

But will the trend continue?

Today is the match we've all been waiting for: McSweeneys vs. The Wu Tang Clan.

McSweeneys is great. They consistently put out new, different, cutting-edge, quality stuff. They are always, in the words of (Barrelhouse Issue Two interviewee) Ian MacKaye, "fucking with the form," and I mean that in the best possible way. They even put their money where their mouths are with the 826 project.

But I think I can put this vote into perspective with three simple words: Old, Dirty, Bastard.

Court jester, social commentator, crazy-ass rapper extraordinaire, inventor of the shout-out to end all shout-outs ("Shout out to ME!"), ODB was one of a kind.

In the name of all that is Old, Dirty, and a Bastard, let's get this one right.

The Heavyweight Title: Shaq vs. Franzen

Yesterday, Stacey Richter beat back Gene Simmons in a surprise victory. Although she has never spit fire or shared a writing credit with Paul Stanley, she beat Simmons by a commanding margin, and now faces Lethem in an impossible to predict second round matchup.

Today's match is the heavyweight title fight: Shaquille O' Neal vs. Jonathan Franzen.

This one is anybody's call.

A Victory for Writers, and Richter vs. God of Thunder

Finally a victory for writers: over the weekend, Jonathan Lethem just kicked Paris Hilton's scrawny little table-dancing heiress ass all over the court. A resounding victory for writers and non-heiresses everywhere.

Today's contest promises to be a little more interesting: Barrelhouse issue one contributor Stacey Richter vs. Gene Simmons.

Get over there and vote today.

Stacey Richter is a wonderful writer. Her stories are smart and funny and odd, and she actually let us publish one of them. We love her. We do. She's great.

It's just that we've never seen her shoot fire out of her mouth or spit blood, we have no idea how she looks with kabuki make-up, two foot spike heels, or a codpiece. Does she want to rock and roll all nite? We think so. We hope so. It's just that, well, she's never actually gone out and told us that she does, in fact, want to rock and roll. If she did want to do it, she'd most likely prefer to rock and roll all "Night," as opposed to "Nite." And I may be reading too much into this here, but to me, that's just the difference between rocking and rolling until midnight and rocking and rolling until that magical hour of "question mark." To say nothing of partying ev-er-y day.

Which is to say: this is going to be a tough one.

Barrelhouse, incidentally, totally supports the troops

I Wonder What Kind of Message I'm Sending to the Troops

What would the troops think about our yard? And I don't mean just about our flag. When I don't bag our leaves, am I basically saying, "To heck with you, troops"?

Are the troops aware of all the remodeling I've been doing in the basement rec room? If so, what message are they getting from that?

I read in the paper that a lot of the troops are complaining about the war, and want to come home. They're putting their lives on the line. It's my duty to support them, but I get confused. What message am I sending the troops if I read articles like that? For that matter, what kind of a message are those troops sending themselves? They are the troops, but it almost sounds like they're not supporting the troops!

I'm sorry. I didn't mean that last statement to sound anti-troops.

Paris Hilton vs. Jonathan Lethem

It has not gone well for the writers so far. Yesterday was close, but Willie Nelson edged out Michael Chabon in our first down-to-the-wire contest.

This weekend is where the writers get it back: Paris Hilton vs. Jonathan Lethem.

Hey, I'm all for this Mr. T over Joyce Carol Oates stuff. I mean, it's T! But let's review the qualifictions of our two combatants today: One writes literary fiction, the other is illiterate and is, unfortunately, not fictional. One wrote a story featuring talking animals, the other is a giant talking vegetable. One wrote The Fortress of Solitude, the other owns a shitload of fortresses and abhors solitude. One wrote As She Crawled Across the Table, the other dances on tables.

This is too easy. Let's go, literary-style folks. The tide has to turn at Paris Hilton.

Click here to vote today, and to download your updated brackets.

Willie Nelson vs. Michael Chabon

That's today's matchup at the Barrelhouse March Madness Pop Icon vs. Writer Tournament.

Get over there and vote now.

Yesterday was a resounding victory for Mr. T, who told Joyce Carol Oates to Quit yo jibber jabber and Shut up, fool, with roughly 65% of the popular vote.

This is important work we're doing here, people. Important work.

March Madness: Pop Icon vs. Writer

It's March Madness time, bay-beeeee! Barrelhouse has launched our own tournament in order to answer important questions, such as "Who is better in every way, Mr. T or Joyce Carol Oates?"

Every day, we'll be pitting one pop icon versus one writer in an all out, cage match, battle to the death popularity contest. You, the reader/site visitor/general public, will decide who wins. Every day we'll update our tournament brackets, so you can follow along.

Click here to vote on today's matchup and download your tournament brackets.

Here's the field (you can click on this image to pop a new window with the full brackets):



Click here to join the madness and vote today.

Hot, Buttered...Scientology?

Isaac Hayes is a scientologist? Man, that's disappointing. The guy who made "Hot Buttered Soul," a scientologist? Chef believes all this Xenu space opera bullshit? Are we now to sing "That L. Ron Hubbard is a bad mother...[shut your mouth]...just talkin' 'bout L. Ron..."

Shit.

I always thought Isaac Hayes was just about one of the coolest people on the planet. I saw Isaac Hayes once on a plane, by the way. He had just written a cookbook, and came down the aisle in this big dashiki thing and sunglasses, holding the cookbook in front of him so everybody on the plane could read the words "Isaac Hayes" in big bold letters as he moved past them. It was kind of like having a crier leading the way: "Isaac Hayes coming through! Mr. Isaac Hayes, coming through!" He sat right behind me with Wonder Woman, Lynda Carter. They talked about cooking. True story. Okay, tangent over.

But if we've learned anything from Us Weekly it is certainly that "The Stars: They're Just Like Us." And as we all know all too well, many of us are, well, just total dumbasses.

Even more disappointing, for those of you who may not be following the entertainment news as closely as you should, is this news that he's dropping out of South Park.

Hayes released a statement that said:

There is a place in this world for satire, but there is a time when satire ends and intolerance and bigotry toward religious beliefs ... begins.

To which South Park co-creator Matt Stone said:

This has nothing to do with intolerance and bigotry and everything to do with the fact that Isaac Hayes is a Scientologist and that we recently featured Scientology in an episode of 'South Park.' In ten years and over 150 episodes of 'South Park,' Isaac never had a problem with the show making fun of Christians, Muslims, Mormons and Jews. He got a sudden case of religious sensitivity when it was his religion featured on the show.

I tend to side with Stone on this one. The beauty of South Park is that they go after everybody. The scientology episode, which you can watch here, is brilliant. So was the Mormon episode, which featured a chorus that, after every description of the history of Mormonism (I'm reading the John Krakauer book, Under the Banner of Heaven right now, and the South Park history was a bit more succinct, but pretty much on target), sang "dumb, dumb-dumb, dumb...duuuuumb."

The very first South Park short (script here) featured Santa and Jesus battling to the death, with the foul-mouthed little kids providing commentary:

[Jesus floats down from the sky.]
Kyle: What the--
Kenny: (zips up hood)
Jesus: Behold my glory.
Stan: Holy shit, it's Jesus!
Cartman: What are you doing in South Park, Jesus?
Jesus: I come seeking...retribution.
Stan: *gasp* He's come to kill you cuz you're Jewish, Kyle!
Kyle: Oh, fuck! I'm sorry, Jesus. Don't kill me.
Jesus: Nay, fear not. I love All My Children.
Kyle: *whew*
Jesus: Tomorrow is my birthday. Yet all is not right.
Stan: Your birthday is on Christmas? That sucks, dude.
Jesus: I must find a place called "The Mall".
Kyle: Well we can take you to the mall, Jesus.
Stan: Yeah! It's over this way.
[Kyle and Kenny exit]
Cartman: *ugh* Goddammit, you stepped on my foot you pigfucker.
Stan: Dude, don't say pigfucker in front of Jesus.

So, I don't know what to make of this whole thing, and maybe there's more to it, but its hard to read as anything more than what is now becoming typical, crazy-ass, scientologist public overreaction (see Cruise, Tom, versus Shields, Brooke).

So what will South Park be like without Isaac Hayes as Chef? Will they fill in with one of the usual voices, which I'm pretty sure are Parker and Stone? Will they find an Isaac Hayes imitator?

Whatever happens, let's just hope it doesn't involve Ted McInley.

Boys who like Girls' Books

This article is interesting in light of Mike's long-ago post about the girls' books he read as a kid. I too read Beverly Cleary's Ramona books, as well as more than one of the Laura Ingalls Wilder saga; plus, I read a few Nancy Drews to complement my reading of the Hardy Boys, Tom Swift, Tom Corbett, and Alfred Hitchock and the Three Investigators' book series. I believe I also read some Pipi Longstocking too...

Why I love Internet user reviews

I think we've all seen our share of worthless amazon user reviews, and maybe I'll post a few of them later this week too. But for now, enjoy four actual unedited user reviews of "The Godfather," from imdb.com. By the way, I finally did see both Godfather films-- good stuff, although it was weird watching them, since they've both been parodied and ripped off so much that I felt like I'd seen the whole thing already anyway. Okay, enough out of me. Let's give the IMDB reviewers their voice (and I guess there might be spoilers in here, just so I don't have anyone bitching at me for giving away the plot of a 30 year old movie):

This was an the overrated movie, I really think there are better movies this movie pretty blows much. I love AL parakeet but he is wasted in this film, he should play Don Veetu Macarone oinstead of that fat bag old Mandy Brawlow. I don't know who this the director is but hes called Frank Audi Corpolja and he sucks, he makes the movie slow and impossible to watch!!! I dis liked the film it sucked pretty much, if only a good actor like johnny Reynolds or Thomas Crass was in it, that would so rule!! Of course most old movies like these one is pretty bad.

The plot is boring and it didn' have to take four hours to get a flippin' point across in my note so humble opinion!!!. Anyway, there's some brutal dearths also so not even kids could watch it because too brutal!! So there s really no really target audience.

"THIS SODMOTHER" is a boring and crappy film that will have to continue to the search of a tarot audience. Boring crappy!! 1/19 for this overrated film

That's right. One out of 19 stars. Pretty rough. I would personally have given it at least 134 out of 196 stars, but that's just me.

why are people trying to make this film out to be something it is not??!

this has got to be one of the worst films i have ever seen. I mean come on, what a load of tripe.

I could get more enjoyment out of watching The Erotic Witch Project 2 (although I have to admit is pretty classy, the acting is superb, well done girls, you really do look and sound like you are cuming there!!)

Where is all the action the makes a mafia film class, like Goodfella's.

Marlon Brando's acting didn't deserve an oscar, it deserved a slap in the face. Sean Connery's performance as a spaniard in Highlander was more convincing.

Al Pacino's performance is total rubbish. The only good part he can do is a queer and that's in Dog Day afternoon.

As and for the director, Paul Verhoeven did a better job with Showgirls!!

What is wrong with a bit of rape in a film, this is the mafia we are watching on the screen, if they are going to portray what the mafia are really like, then at least show what they do behind closed door.

Very Poor!!!! 1 out of 10!!!

I agree-- more rapes in film!

After hearing about this legendary film I decided it was about time I watched it....after about an hour I really wished I hadn't wasted the money renting it...after the movie finished I was bored. The film was nothing like I had expected and I don't know how it possibly made it as big as it has. It was quite well cast I love Diane Keaton but she's better in Woody Allen's comedy's than in this derivitive movie. You want a good gangster movie...watch Goodfella's...it actually has a good story, entertaining characters & violence and paints a much more realistic picture of the mob world of the era. I'm not even going to bother watching parts 2 or 3 of the godfather coz Marlon Brando ain't even in them so their ain't much point! I think I'll go watch Marlon Brando's greatest performance...Guy's N Doll's.

Of what is this movie derivative, you may ask? Well, I believe our final (and my favorite) poster has the answer:

"The Godfather" is a 'terrible' film.

It's 'the worst' movie I've seen in a decade. The acting in this film is 'excruciatingly painful'. The whole family are 'watered down Sopranos' who show some phenomenally strong 'lack of' chemistry. The 'boring' weeding scene is the 'highlight'.

Michael is a 'wet fish' and his relationship with Kay is very dumb, and also 'stupid' and 'weird'. The Godfather scenes make me 'sick' and 'woozy'. I haven't seen such dramatised 'try to be cool' dialogue since "Any Given Sunday".

Pacino was less wooden in "Gigli". That other film he also 'carried'. Both Puzo and Brest were largely let down thanks to this 'Tony Montana' The characters of Sonny and Fredo were so 'unrealistic' I thought they were 'comic book'. I must also highly criticise the music in this film as being 'childish' and sometimes often 'out of place'.

Now on to some other failings of this 'pathetic' movie. The dialogue was 'silly'. If it was supposed to be nail-biting, well, it 'failed'. The manner in which the actors delivered their lines was 'uninspiring'. Brando in particular 'sucked'. What about the 'long' and 'tired' Sicily scenes? Reference to four hours of "Lawrence of Arabia" I don't know? The car exploding was so 'unoriginal' and 'clichéd'. And the 'take over' cross baptism montage. Come on, do some CGI instead! Bah, 'armatures'.

How this is ranked above that masterpiece "Muriel's Wedding" stumps me. If they had replaced Francis Ford with Nicolas they might have hit pay dirt.

These 'reviews' are 'awesome.' I could 'read' 'them' all day, and if 'I' didn't 'have' class, I probably 'would.'

Yeah, I know it's TV Tuesday, but Mike got an Oscar post, so I'm posting about the Godfather.

Stupid Oscar voters

I keep trying to post something here about the Oscars -- about the serviceably funny job Jon Stewart did as host, about why they insisted on playing the music during the acceptance speeches, about how hilarious it is when the second part of a duo accepting an award tries to speak and finds out the mic has been muted, about how Larry McMurtry, God bless him, looks like the special-needs kid who bags my fries at Arby's.

But then I get to the part about how Crash won Best Picture and my brain gets all angry and Mike Smash! Mike Smash Good! Mike Kill and Smash!

Now that I've had some time to think about it, though, it makes a certain kind of sense. Crash is exactly the sort of movie people like to see about an issue as complicated as racism. Because, rather than actually exploring how we're all perhaps a little bit (or a lot) complicit in America's various race problems, it gives us two-dimensional caricatures and a simpleminded thesis we all can agree on: racism = bad.

Aside from the obvious problems with the film -- that it posits an L.A. populated by approximately 12 people, all of whom are destined to constantly run into each other; that it blatantly rips off Magnolia with its "slow dirge sung by someone who sounds kind of like Aimee Mann while something unexpected falls from the sky" motif -- it also creates characters that are like a third-grader's idea of humans. Everyone is exactly two dimensional -- bad, then later good; or good, then later bad.

And now I'm getting angry again. Mike Smash! Smash Smash Smash!

Okay, I'll leave you with this, which I think is funny, from McSweeneys.

Say it with a ribbon and/or bracelet

Is there any sentiment that isn't best expressed via ribbon or bracelet? First there was the AIDS ribbon (red), followed quickly by the breast cancer ribbon (pink), the "remember 9/11" ribbon (red, white and blue) and the Support Our Troops ribbon (yellow). According to this web site, which claims to be the web's largest compendium of cause-based ribboning, there are ribbons to remember Matthew Shepard (blue) and Titanic victims (grayish -- perhaps the color of an iceberg?), for leukemia awareness (green) and chemical injury awareness (purple and yellow). There are ribbons in favor of Christian Rock (blue) and in celebration of Pagan Girls (lavendar).

There's even a ribbon against partial-birth abortion, though its pink and baby blue design could be easily confused with this ribbon in favor of Genital Integrity.

Yesterday, driving through Iowa City, I saw someone with a ribbon-shaped sticker on the back of their minivan that said "Spay and Neuter Your Pets." A few blocks later, I saw a purple ribbon that said "Save Dance." Perhaps there's some sort of Footloose-style controversy brewing?

Then there are the bracelets. The Lance Armstrong Live Strong bracelets were huge with the college kids, though I think I freaked out one of my students last year when I asked him how long he had to wear the thing. "I don't know," he said, suddenly looking very panicked. "Forever?! I have no idea!"

It wasn't long before there was a breast-cancer awareness bracelet (pink), then a yellow bracelet that just said "Hawkeyes" on it (for those who wanted the fashion statement of the bracelet without having to support a cause). There were even Drink Strong bracelets for idiot frat guys.

Now, apparently, you can wear bracelets for just about any cause on the color wheel: Gray for allergies, burgundy for Caesarian section and light blue/purple for irritable bowel syndrome.

Just a Note III: Oleg Finds His Voice

For those of you who have been following our correspondence with our new pal Oleg, I'm pleased to announce that we've got a new entry in the canon.

At this point, I think it's appropriate to sit back and appreciate all we've accomplished with Oleg. The first submission had real anger, real voice, it was like a Mike Tyson punch that just barely glanced off the shoulder -- all fire and wild abandon, without the precision or the appreciation for craft that would mark Oleg as a true artist. The second submission showed hints that there was an artist working there. Like so many second efforts, however, this draft lacked the fire of the original. What Oleg made up in craft, he lost in vision.

This third draft is, dare I say, Oleg's masterpiece. He has truly found his voice. It is the voice of a too-smart 17 year old drunk on mead at the renaissance festival, but it is a voice nontheless.

I feel that our work with Oleg, constantly pushing, forcing him to examine his craft, never satisfied until we got his finest work out of him, is truly our best effort as editors to date. It is with great pride, then, that I share with you our the latest missive from our friend, foe, and harshest drunken renfest critic, Oleg.

As always, please share your responses in the comments section, and we'll share our favorite with O himself.

Dear Second One-Fourth of Nothing (and I do hope they continue to improve, commiserations to Joe),

Oh please do tell me anon, Dear Sir, just how 'pseudo' indeed and, surely as well, 'drama'-like my own dear life unfortunately is. Forsooth, this mighty high assumption allows thee to quoth your own immensity of learning.

How it is plain that I crumble before thine classicism and breadth of learning. Look post-haste to thine blood allies against me: Eliot and Shakespeare. And these in but a single passage of thine stinging prose!

And yes, 'tis unfortunate that dis-ease but seems 'tis contagious. For ye all be sprouting that horrid pustule forming crank litotes-itis. I have it sure and safe within me, kind and gentle Sir, that indeed thine worth be not of sufficient reckoning to engage my ambling talent. Reassure thine self in that regard.

You must please excuse me of mine horrid arrogance in pointing out to thee and thine a most unseemly error in the calculations of thine reason. It appears a gross ineptitude to assume concern within myself to perpetrate some murderous deed upon this thine own fine corporation, for that does in its own turn assume that ye were worthy of such consideration and ministration. Surely, before all plain sight to the four winds, it is upon us that no such worthiness exists.

Glad am I, warm in hearth and heart, that such a fine and honourable use of thine parents fortune has enabled thee to look up in books and copy there-from. Indeed ye have at thine memorable finger tips a mighty and long list of right eminent names and seemingly endless passage. By open admission I've indeed taken deep in mine innards a most frightful whipping by that there thine able hand.

I take thine assurances well within the folds of my memorising for I cannot doubt any of these clear powers for destruction possessed of thee that ye testify to in thine note, nor the affinity of kinds such as yourself for patience providing shadows also alluded there-to. Your laughter, laudable Sir, has chilled mine feeble bones.

Though thine lengthy postscript has as an afterthought already dispatched from me a right hasty reply I think it now best to return to its weighty theorising. Flattery it is to mine incapable brain that persons of such stature as yourselves lower themselves to receive and engage these base and worthless scribings. Contagious indeed!

I must humble myself though by pointing out some considerations perhaps too simple to be apparent to thine mighty thinking. I doubt it makes any kind of wordly sense for an emtionally disturbed youngster to utter such words as mine previous as it seems not likely that one so young would be engaged in such a subject. But I deny you not the chance to turn mine own simple words to thine self advantage as that seems your right provence, to twist to thine advantage, to ignore all bounds of context and to generally proclaim that which is your god given right; namely that it is ye and ye alone that deserves the laughter of a mighty and highly placed audience.

Thee must at least have within thee a capacity to accept that it be more probable than not that mine own authorial intentions be beyond the ken of thine reckoning. 'Tis with doubt and yet no surprise that I call into obvious question thine perhaps hastily scribed comments regarding mine ability to ammuse our humble reader.

I shall abase myself just once more in this missive. It must be plainly pointed to thine awareness that ye seemingly partake of a constant and deadly error. When it comes into thine mind that I, thine humble and obedient servant, am enjoying myself less than thee become reassured. Nay, it be all too apparant that I indeed amlaughing the more.

O., which is in thine own godfather mind Oleg.

Tell it, Oleg, tell it!

Please share your responses in the comments section.

Rick Moody Loves ABBA

And he's got a lot of interesting things to say about literature and pop music in this LA Times Roundtable with him, Jonathan Lethem, and John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. Thanks to Bookslut for the link.

Among other things, we learn that:

• Moody loves ABBA
  
• Moody's reading/listening comprehension isn't so good with Eminem songs ("Stan," not about cutting up your wife and putting her in your trunk; if I'm wrong on the reference, then apologies to Moody, but I'm pretty sure that's the song he's thinking of)
  
• Lethem thinks of himself as a literary Yo La Tengo
  
• The dude from the Mountain Goats, Darnielle, holds his own in a fancy-ass literary discussion with Rick Moody and Jonathan Lethem. More than I could likely say for myself.
  
• Darnielle likes the Backstreet Boys, or at least gives them a little respect shout-out kinda thing.
  
• Moody says this is happening: "Dave Eggers is composing for Cheap Trick 20 years after their last hit"

And more. Worth reading the whole thing.

Where are these guys when we hold our Roundtables, Wednesday nights at the Big Hunt?