Where Are They Now: Karate Kid Edition

Of course we’re all familiar with the career arc of Elizabeth Shue, who after Adventures in Babysitting was suddenly too cool to do the Karate Kid sequels, leading to Daniel-son’s awkward romance in Part III with that chick from Teen Witch.

And we all know Ralph Maccio pretty much fell off the face of the Earth after My Cousin Vinny, only to resurface in a guest spot on Entourage last season. (Also, according to IMDB, he did an episode of Chicken Soup for the Soul, which sounds like a made-up show to me.)

Then there’s Pat Morita, who passed away last year after nearly forty years of being just about the hardest working man in show business. Can anyone else claim guest spots on Green Acres, Gomer Pyle, The Odd Couple, M*A*S*H, Kung Fu, Sanford and Son, Welcome Back Kotter, Chico and the Man, The Incredible Hulk, The Love Boat, Laverne and Shirley, Dave’s World, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Murder She Wrote, Boy Meets World, Family Matters, Son of the Beach, Baywatch, Caroline in the City and Yes, Dear?

It seems fitting that in the last few years of his life Morita was cast several times as an emperor, after starting his career as “Oriental #3” in Thoroughly Modern Millie and playing more Wongs and Wings than probably any other actor in history.

So that takes care of the principle stars of The Karate Kid universe. But what about the lesser lights, the second fiddles, the memorable character actors that populated perhaps the best movie ever made about under-18 tournament karate?

Martin Kove, aka the evil John Kreese, has been in a long string of forgettable TV shows and movies with names like The Marksmen, Grizzly Mountain, Extreme Honor and American Gun. You get the idea. Perhaps his career highlight came in 2003, when he again teamed up with Pat Morita in the fish-out-of-water comedy Rice Girls, about an aspiring actress picked up on a prostitution sting, chased by an Iraqi warlord and forced to wrestle a 300-pound character named “Meathead.” And now I have to change the plot of my novel. Damn it.

Randee Heller, who played Daniel-son’s annoying mother has, against all odds, continued to act, mostly in television shows. Though she recently had a memorable turn as “Beverly Hills Dog Owner” in Monster in Law.

And what about the Kobra Kai’s?

William Zabka (Johnny) followed up The Karate Kid with Just One of the Guys, European Vacation and Back to School. For a while there in the mid-80’s, everything was coming up Zabka. Then he did Karate Kid II and a made-for-TV movie about a Spanish treasure hunter, and things took a turn for the worse. Pretty soon he was starring exclusively in futuristic thrillers like Shootfighter, Shootfighter II, Gale Force, Hyper Sonic and Mindstorm. Oh, how the mighty have fallen (into the straight-to-video bin).

Though is it worse to do straight-to-video or straight-to-pay-per-view? Because fellow Kobra Kai Rob Garrison (Tommy) played Billy Dare in Hollywood Hot Tubs 2: Educating Crystal. And now I also have to change the title of my novel.

Ron “Put Him in a Body Bag” Thomas (Bobby), seems to have inexplicably stopped acting after 1987’s Night Screams.

And Chad McQueen (Dutch), who I just found out is the son of Steve McQueen, has had pretty much the same career arc as his father, only instead of The Thomas Crown Affair, he was in Sexual Malice, and instead of The Magnificent Seven, he did Skateboard: The Movie. If you squint your eyes just right, they’re pretty much the same.

Finally, my favorite actor from The Karate Kid, Israel Juarbe, who played Freddy Fernandez, Daniel’s first friend in California. In one of the movie’s great mysteries (the other is what happened to the job in “computers” Mrs. Larusso moved to California for in the first place, since by week two she’s a waitress) Freddy promises to show Daniel the ropes, invites him to a beach party, watches him get his ass kicked by Johnny, then disappears from his life completely, even though they go to the same school and live in the same small apartment complex. Then, in one of the movie’s final scenes, the camera pans the crowd of the All-Valley Karate Tournament, and there’s Freddy in the stands, clapping and smiling! And here I thought he’d moved to Montana, or died of smallpox. Apparently he just had mono, or lots of homework.

Anyway, Juarbe’s had a string of bit parts in television and the movies. He’s played a courier, a room service waiter, attendant, bell hop, a “citizenship student.” And people say Latino actors are typecast -- nonsense! If any of you three or four loyal Barrelhouse readers are in the movie business, give Israel Juarbe some love. Maybe your upcoming movie needs a grape picker, or a janitor. If so, Juarbe’s your man! I kid, I kid. I'm sure he's capable of playing many different parts, like a fast food worker, or a drug kingpin, or a dirty illegal immigrant who sleeps all day and steals jobs from hardworking Americans who are just dying to gut cows in a slaughterhouse for minimum wage.

Give Juarbe a call!

Wing Nut(s) Of The Week: No More Immigants!

Did you know that if you allow your daughter to marry an illegal non-European immigrant, she may be forced to mutilate her genitals? Did you know that Muslim terrorists are attending special schools in Latin America where they learn Spanish and then sneak into the United States disguised as Latino immigrants? Did you know that illegal immigrants, with the support of the Mexican government, are attempting to "take back" a portion of the American Southwest? Did you know that if you go to the movies or Wal-Mart, you may be breathing air that contains hepatitis?

No?

Time to get educated, Barrelhousers.

The Southern Poverty Law Center routinely collects intelligence reports on America's lunatic fringe. Their profiles of "The Nativists" is like a collection of Wing Nut bubblegum cards.

First up, let's meet Arlington, Virginia's Erin Anderson, who not only believes that Muslims are sneaking into the country dressed up as Latinos (I assume this means fake moustaches, silly hats and striped ponchos), she also claims they've brought a leprosy epidemic to the Boston area and purposely donate tainted blood. As if that weren't bad enough, Mexico's pedophiles are hopping the border into America because of our country's lax enforcement of sexual predator laws.

Next, say hello to Frosty Wooldridge. This Colorado native's hobbies include bicycling, wearing funny chef hats and being a crazy wing-nut racist. Wooldrige warns of the "disease jihad" coming to America via its southern border. The Latinos are bringing with them tuberculosis, head lice and hepatitis -- not to mention their culture of genital mutilation, cock fighting and Santeria. And don't even get him started on immigrants' questionable bathroom behavior:

Somali immigrants, Wooldridge warns, 'never used a toilet or washed their hands before being plunked down in America.' Mexicans 'do not wash their hands after using bathroom facilities.'

There are lots of other crazy wing-nuts on the Southern Poverty Law Center site. Like D.A. King, who hired homeless people to fill out the crowd of an anti-immigration rally. Or Jim Chase, who decided the Minutemen people were just a little too tolerant for him.

When he launched the California Minutemen (recently renamed California Border Watch), Chase put out a call on the Internet for 'all those who do not want their family murdered by Al Qaeda, illegal migrants, colonizing illegal aliens, illegal alien felons, alien barbarians, Ninja-dressed drug smugglers,' along with those who opposed 'cowardly Aztlan punks and Che Guevara pink pantied wimps lower than whale dung who should be fed to the chupacabra [a mythical Mexican monster].' Making ready to patrol the border, he asked his volunteers to bring 'baseball bats, stun guns and machetes' and said they could carry assault rifles and shotguns.

Then there's Barbara Coe, who claims to have uncovered the Mexican plot to take over the American Southwest, and says she's seen the "rape and murder of law-abiding citizens at the hands of illegal barbarians ... who are cutting off heads and appendages of blind, white, disabled gringos."

It's not just the white folks in on the fun, though. Lupe Moreno, whose husband (well, ex-husband now) was a one-time illegal immigrant, and whose father was an immigrant smuggler, recently compared Americans suffering from illegal immigration to Jews suffering under the Nazis. And the Americans, according to Moreno, are reacting in the same "passive" way that the Jews allegedly did.

Oh, Moreno also thinks homosexuals have been overtaken by evil spirits, and that body piercing can turn a person gay. I couldn't make this stuff up, people.

And perhaps you didn't realize it, but no state is under siege from the illegals quite like Idaho. Luckily, Canyon County Commissioner Robert Vasquez is all over the problem. He's demanded that the governor close the Idaho borders, and he's billed the Mexican government $2 million for services his county has spent on immigrants.

What's that you say? Vasquez sounds suspiciously like a Latin American name? Them's fightin' words, mofo. Sure, he's the grandson of Mexican immigrants, but he rejects the idea of being a "hyphenated American."

'The diversity crowd seduces the naive by teaching that the invaders are noble, harmless people, just here to work,' Vasquez told an anti-immigration gathering near Chicago in October, 'when in fact they are here to commit auto theft, burglary, rape, robbery and murder.'

As Moe Szyslak once famously said: "Immigants! I knew it was them! Even when it was the bears, I knew it was them!"

24 Thoughts on 24

After last night's whiz-bang conclusion of the fifth and perhaps most belief-suspending season of 24, here are some random thoughts that have been floating around my head this season.

What the fuck is in that messenger bag? Like, an FBI-issue sig sauer, lock picking tools, City Paper, PDA, cell phone, bonus burrito card, flashlight, mirror, torture devices, cyanide pill, Starbucks travel mug...

Best initiation of romantic dialogue ever: "When I heard you had kidnapped the president..."

Dead or Alive? Secretary Heller. Wayne Palmer. Curtis (I missed last week due to President Bush dicking my Tivo over with his lame-ass immigration speech; and you thought television was the one thing that fucker couldn't fuck up...).

What was all that about? Kim and that weirdly overprotective boyfriend, who I think had the name and personality of that guru/psychiatrist who had Brian Wilson "under his care" for a period of time in the 80s. The redhead from The Brothers McMullen and Spin City and her overprotective son who eventually learned to love and respect Jack Bauer.

Bit players who seem too good-looking, interesting, or obviously random to not be coming into play in season 6: That hot Italian arms dealer. The Scottish or German or whatever spy guy, who Jack dicked over (and is also Declan, from Lost). Chloe's ex-husband Morris.

The question everybody is asking: why didn't he just download that stupid voice file to Chloe and save us about twelve episodes?

Mary Lynn Rajskub is the Sam Elliott of Television: One facial expression to fit all moods and situations. Same Elliott = the eye twinkle. Mary Lynn = the scowl.

They Took One for the Team (the old fashioned way): That guy who slept with Chloe. The first lady.

Is that a Shacket or a Jirt? What was that thing Jack was wearing all season? Jacket? Shirt? Jirt? Shacket? It had a hood. It had some kind of lapel-ish collar-y thing. What was that? Why didn't he ever take it off?

RIP: Anybody who tried to help Jack in any way at all.

Best Executive IT Training Program: Goes to the CTU and Homeland Security IT staff, who somehow trained executives as high-ranking as Bill Buchanon and Karen Hughes to hack and override and download and do all kinds of kickass stuff usually reserved for twelve year old Thai hackers.

He Took the Precious: Is it just me, or was that Miles guy doing a kind of Gollum-as-middle-manager impression?

The Lundberg Award for Best Management Style: To, who else, Jack Bauer, who proved that you really can get people to accomplish anything -- for instance, land a plane on a highway without enough room, while being chased by airforce fighter jets -- by yelling "NOW!" and "FASTER!" and "Do it DO IT NOW!"

Ziskey Rates the Russians: They're Pussies! Don't you think 24 should end like Stripes, with the mocked up magazine covers that follow? Chloe on Wired, Curtis on Guns and Ammo, Morris on Audio Engineer Weekly, Kim in Maxim...oh, well, I guess that last one actually came true.

Rudy...Rudy! Dude, nice try. But you'll always be Rudy.

Most Enterprising Criminal: Rudy's skeevy sister's skeevy boyfriend, who somehow managed to get in touch with high-level Russian terrorists about five minutes after he nabbed Rudy's CTU scan card.

Best Casting: Speaking of...who was that scuzzy sister anyway? She seemed way too real, right down to the rugburns on her knees. Ugh.

Did We Ever Learn? Who those dudes in the room were? You know who I mean, the gay guy from Fame who was the doctor on ER. I get it that they're, you know, Shadowy Operatives, or Halliburton Executives or whatever, but did they ever actually tell us who they were?

Pscych! Come on, as soon as you hear the lovely music and Jack Bauer says, "that's right, Audrey, it's all over," you KNOW the shits just about to go down. Anybody who says otherwise is a sucka.

Worst. Boyfriend. Ever. Last season Jack killed Audrey's husband and brother and then faked his own death. This season he almost killed her dad and got himself all kidnapped on a slow boat to China.

I Don't Think He's Dead. Robocop. No bleeding. We never saw his body, right?

Ancient Chinese Plot Twist. Not bad. Those Chinese bastards sure do hold a grudge, don't they?

Acme Company, This is Jack Bauer, I'd Like to Order an Anvil. 24 is the best cartoon since Roadrunner.

Why Am I So Fucking Stupid? I'm already looking forward to next season.

In Defense of The Da Vinci Code

Anti-intellectualism stems from authority. Everyone is used to this being the religious right, a totalitarian government, or blind populism, but lately, it’s been coming from a different source. The authority to blame when it comes to the discussion of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code is the critics. I don’t mean people who didn’t like the book, but professional critics of both the literary and film varieties.

It is obvious that The Da Vinci Code is dumb, poorly written, based on shoddy research, and filled with plot holes. There’s no need to constantly deride the book for what is apparent to even the most casual reader. The Da Vinci Code’s success is based on its sensationalism and that sensationalism has revealed a larger public interest in and legitimate questioning of religious tradition. The Da Vinci Code is now its own genre of book. You’ll find a whole table of them at Barnes & Noble, fiction and non-fiction, some more serious than others.

The anti-intellectualism of the critics takes its form in laziness. Instead of seizing the opportunity of having 60 million people enraptured with reading and questioning what they’ve been told, the critics mostly assume a sanctimonious cynicism pointing to the book as the new low of American reading. This attitude tells us what we already know and does not direct any of these potential readers, who in some cases are finally devouring a book for possibly the first time, to the real literature concerned with similar themes that the would earn the critics’ approval.

I haven’t seen many articles amid the media flurry pointing to the wealth of literature questioning the Christian tradition. One of my favorites is Norman Mailer’s The Gospel According to the Son. What about Willis Barnstone’s new translation of The Gnostic Gospels? Or Nikos Kazantzakis's The Last Temptation of Christ? Especially with Ron Howard’s blockbuster coming out. I would guess that the reviewers and critics think that an audience interested in The Da Vinci Code would not be up for heavier fare, but that might be underestimating them. They are already beginning to question, why not give them something to really think about? Besides, if critics are so above Dan Brown’s crippled prose, then isn’t it their responsibility to show us what we’re missing? Provide counter examples? If book critics won’t lead readers to great literature, then who will? Telling us something sucks does not aid the reader toward greater work. It just saves them some time.

Steve Almond quits in protest

I'm sure everyone has already seen this and I'm horribly late to the party, but Barrelhouse Issue One contributor Steve Almond resigned his post at Boston College after the school invited Condi Rice to speak to graduates and receive an honorary degree.

When a cryptogropher and a symbologist get together, it usually ends in tears

In today's New York Times, lovable scamp A.O. Scott manages to lambast both the new Da Vinci Code movie and the Dan Brown book, which he calls a "best-selling primer on how not to write an English sentence."

"To their credit, the director and his screenwriter, Akiva Goldsman ... have streamlined Mr. Brown's story and refrained from trying to capture his, um, prose style. 'Almost inconceivably, the gun into which she was now staring was clutched in the pale hand of an enormous albino with long white hair.' Such language -- note the exquisite 'almost' and the fastidious tucking of the 'which' after the preposition -- can only live on the page."

Burn!

He doesn't have very nice things to say about the film, either.

"Through it all, Mr. Hanks and Ms. Tautou stand around looking puzzled, leaving their reservoirs of charm scrupulously untapped. Mr. Hanks twists his mouth in what appears to be an expression of professorial skepticism, and otherwise coasts on his easy, subdued geniality. Ms. Tautou, determined to ensure that her name will never again come up in an Internet search for the word "gamine," affects a look of worried fatigue. In spite of some talk (a good deal less than in the book) about the divine feminine, chalices and blades and the spiritual power of sexual connection, not even a glimmer of eroticism flickers between the two stars. Perhaps it's just as well. When a cryptographer and a symbologist get together, it usually ends in tears."

Juiced!

Apparently O.J. Simpson has changed his mission from "finding the real killers" to making a jackass of himself on Pay Per View. Unfortunately, I'm poor, so I haven't yet seen his show, despite how much I admired his comic turns in the Naked Gun films.

Check out this InDemand description of the show:

"Watch out Donald Trump, and move over Punk'd, because here comes the new catch phrase that everyone is talking about "You've been Juiced!" In fact, no one is safe because "THE JUICE" is loose...again! Get prepared to witness O.J. Simpson performing hilarious practical jokes and shocking hidden camera stunts on unsuspecting real life people all across America."

Do I even have to make a joke about this?

Wing Nut Of The Week: The League Of Extraordinarily Backwards Gentlemen

I grew up in the cradle of the Confederacy. Chances are, if your last name was Sherman, someone was eventually going to punch you in the face, and when we learned about the Civil War in school, it was pretty strongly implied that the North won because of its willingness to fight dirty, since everyone knew God was on the side of the South.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that the whole "War of Northern Aggression" thing is old hat to me, but these guys still look like fucking wing-nuts to me.

The League of the South is a Southern Nationalist organization whose ultimate goal is a free and independent Southern republic. To reach this goal, we intend to create the climate for a free South among our people by 1) de-legitimating the American Empire at every opportunity; 2) by proving our willingness to be servant-leaders to the Southern people; and 3) by making The League of the South a strong, viable organization that will lead us to Southern independence.

In other words ... the South's gonna do it again, motherfuckers!

Though, as they point out on the web site, the South doesn't technically have to secede, since they already done seceded. See, the Confederate States of America never actually surrendered, "only the armies in the fields did." So all they have to do now is generate enough public interest in declaring the South a sovereign state. But how do you do that?

...While we seek to use shame and contempt to de-legitimate the institutions controlled by the Empire, we must not stop there. We must create our own parallel institutions to which our people can attach their loyalties. A good example of this is the move out of the "public" schools and into home schooling or the establishment of our own private academies. Also, the League sponsors weekend Hedge Schools and week-long summer institutes to educate our people.

Also, they seem to be really concerned with illegal immigration and multiculturalism, which they refer to as a "poison."

In our day, virtually every Western institution — church, government, the academy, the media, big business — mimics the cry of left-wing utopian humanism. From the Civil Rights movement in America to the Universal Rights of Man, the demand is the same: “Western man, give up your ill-gotten Kingdom for the good of all.” We Westerners are browbeaten in the name of multiculturalism to take in millions from the Third World in order that we not only might share our wealth and way of life with them but also to prove that we are not “racists.” In short, we are asked to sacrifice all we have at the altar of egalitarianism.

Hmmm, "sacrificing all that we have at the altar of egalitarianism." Why does that sound so familiar. Who was it that said that before? Oh, right, this guy. But hey -- everybody knows Jesus was only talking about the whites.

But on the site, the League clarifies that they're not really racists, because calling someone racist is just a "wax nose charge", which apparently is a type of bad argument.

The League also -- and I have to admit this is kind of cute -- uses British spellings, only they call them Southern. The League "eschews the use of Webster's so-called 'American' English orthography which actually is nothing more than a bastardisation of the proper and correct English language by New England busybodies."

Luckily, The League of Extraordinarily Racist and Backwards Gentlemen is just a small band of crazies, and not, say, an organization endorsed by powerful politicians. Because that would be truly scary.

Much like the muppets, Barrelhouse takes Manhattan

Movie watching and Barrelhousing. They’re two great tastes that go great together, which is why Barrelhouse will present Take that Hill, an evening of short movies and short stories at the KGB Bar (85 East 4th Street) in New York City on Friday, May 12 at 7 p.m.

The event is totally free and open to the public.

Here’s what you'll get if you come:

1) Stories about death metal, drug addled Japanese basketball teams, long nights at southern gas stations, and the perils of fathering the cool kid, all of which will be read by their authors, including David Barringer, Matt Bell, Justin Taylor, and Matt Kirkpatrick.

2) Movies about dead cats, punk rock, European bread-chasers, and post-industrial small town Pennsylvania.

3) Shit loads of revelry.

The stories first appeared in the print edition of Barrelhouse. “Cool” by David Barringer and “Metal Church” by Matt Kirkpatrick were published in Barrelhouse #1, while “White Lines and Headlights” by Matt Bell and “Ft. Smith, Arkansas” by Justin Taylor come from the recently released second issue, which will be available for purchase the night of the reading. You can also buy it right now by clicking here.

The films on the program are all over the place. “An Impression: Dischord Records,” gives a thirteen-minute overview of Washington’s Dischord record label and includes concert footage as well as interviews with prominent members of the DC music community, including label co-founder Ian MacKaye. On a completely different note, “Dead Kitty” by Rachel Max is an homage (sort of) in song and animation to a not quite beloved family pet. Rounding out the movies are shorts by Bert Mains (“The T of Pennsylvania”) and Andy Bely (“Bread Story”).

Tell your friends. Invite them along. Get drunk afterwards. Get drunk beforewards. God knows we will. It’s FREE, people. In the meantime, here’s all the info you’ll need:

Take That Hill-NYC
Friday May 12 @ 7 pm
KGB Bar
85 East 4th Street
NYC
Free!!!
www.myspace.com/take_that_hill
take_that_hill@yahoo.com

I'm so conflicted

On the one hand, I find the whole Da Vinci Code phenomenon pretty irritating. It sounded like a rather dumb book, and -- at least from skimming through it at the bookstore -- not a particularly well-written one. So the fact that it's spawned this entire cottage industry -- Da Vinci Code spin-off books and television shows discussing the "theories" of the code and even a travel guide for people who want to take a Da Vinci-themed vacation -- well, it just seems like a little much.

But now that the evangelical Christians are all worked up over the book -- and movie's -- blasphemy? I kind of want to jump on the Da Vinci bandwagon. Usually if these people hate something, it means it's awesome, like The Last Temptation of Christ, or rock music, or dancing.

"'Christians are under no obligation to pay for what Hollywood dishes out, especially a movie that slanders Jesus Christ and the church,' said Robert H. Knight, director of the Culture and Family Institute, an affiliate of Concerned Women for America, a conservative Christian group based in Washington.

"'I don't have to see 'The Devil in Miss Jones' to know it's pornography, and I don't have to see 'The Da Vinci Code' to know that it's blasphemous,' said Mr. Knight, who plans to join religious leaders from groups like Human Life International and Movieguide in Washington on May 17 to announce boycott plans.

My favorite protest idea they've come up with is an "othercott," in which they go see a different movie on the day Da Vinci opens, like Over the Hedge. Although I'm not sure why they picked Over the Hedge, a movie that features talking animals. That sounds a lot like withcraft to me.

Coffee With Attitude

If we ever decide we need a legitimate business as a front for our illegal drug literary journal activities, might I suggest we open a franchise of the KISS Coffeehouse?

See, it's like a regular coffeehouse, but totally rocked out. Like, instead of an Iced Macchiato, you can get an Iced Rockiato. Instead of Cappucino, they have Rockucino. You get the idea. Also, for some reason, they have cotton candy and deep-fried Twinkies. Rawk!

So far, it seems the only location is in Myrtle Beach. Which, if you think about it, is pretty much the perfect location for a KISS coffeehouse.

According to their marketing material, the coffeehouse offers "coffee with attitude."

"KISS Coffeehouse is a stimulating environment to drink a stimulating beverage. No curling up with a nice book or contemplating interpersonal relationships here! It's a place to celebrate life, have fun and experience the hottest band in the world - KISS."

The Real Future of Reality TV

Supposedly Ford Motor Company is about to throw its hat into the reality TV ring with a show in which contestants design a new Ford concept car. And with this move, reality TV will have finally jumped the proverbial shark into pure advertorial.

Of course this is where reality television has been headed all along. The Apprentice is one big cross-promotional machine, and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is often just an hour-long infomercial for various lifestyle products. Even Bravo's newest offering, Top Chef -- a show I have to admit I've become somewhat addicted to -- features all sorts of awkward sponsor fellatio, like the chefs constantly mentioning the need to get their food into the "Kenmore ovens" or randomly holding up bottles of KC Masterpiece barbecue sauce.

None of this should be surprising. It's not as if there was some Golden Age of ad-free TV that we can now weep for. Television, since its inception, has existed solely to sell advertising space. If it's sometimes managed to be entertaining or moving or educational, that's all well and good but only secondary to its real purpose, which is to make you want to buy shit.

And what makes people want to buy shit? Feeling like losers, for one thing. You watch Friends, or Desperate Housewives, or pretty much any other show on TV, and you come away thinking that you're not particularly attractive, or wealthy, and your apartment or house is kind of small and run-down, and where's that smell coming from? But then, just as you've hit rock bottom, it's time for some commercial messages, and -- of course! -- you just need to buy some new furniture at Pier One and take some diet pills and douse yourself in Axe Body Spray!

It's a genius strategy. All reality TV did was make the equation more obvious. Are you nervous about asking your girlfriend to marry you because you have questionable fashion sense and bad hair? The Queer Eye dudes will rush right over and fix your life with product!

The deeper problem with reality TV is that it's started to turn us all into products. Take The Real World, a show that used to be about strangers living together. At some point early on in that show's development, the producers started working to put each member of the cast into a recognizable pigeonhole -- the angry black guy, the crazy drunken mischief maker, etc. etc. Eventually, the people applying for the show put themselves into those categories. If you've ever watched The Real World casting specials (admit it!) you know what I'm talking about. "Hi, I'm Kevin, and as you can see from my waxed chest and backwards trucker hat, I'm totally in a frat. I like to par-tay, and if people don't like that, they can just step off! I guess you could say I'm the 'crazy one,' I mean I say what I'm thinking, and some people just can't handle that shit."

So now you have people going on The Real World completely aware of the fact that they're types. And not just aware of it, but celebrating it! And what's the end-game for Real World cast members? You go on tour to speak at various college campuses, and you go on Real World/Road Rules Challenge in perpetuity, all the while both playing and promoting that same character you created years ago with your Real World audition tape.

When reality TV first started to get big, it was easy enough to assume people were going on the shows because they wanted to be real actors, and getting on TV at least gave them some exposure. But now we've come to realize that's not really true, at least not for the bulk of these people. What most of them want to be is exactly what they already are, but with a viewership. They want to be "famous" -- not famous in the sense that they've done something admirable, but in the sense that people know who they are.

So it doesn't matter, really, who Trishelle is, or what Trishelle has done with her life. It doesn't even matter whether Trishelle has a last name. What matters is that when someone says "Trishelle," you think "slutty girl, Real World Vegas." Just like when someone says "Paris Hilton," you think "slutty girl, Heiress," and when someone says "Eggo," you think "waffle."

This is what happens when capitalism runs amuck, I suppose. Or maybe I've just taken too much Sudafed today to combat my head cold and I'm going nuts.

Celebrity Art

Tom cruise apparently inspires a lot of fan art.

This reminds me of those kiosks at the mall that sell charcoal portraits of celebrities. I've always wondered who buys those things. Then again, people also buy Precious Moments collectibles and NASCAR plates.

For less schmaltzy fare, check out Gallery of the Absurd, which features "gossip-fueled art." Like Paris Hilton as a proboscis monkey. Or the answer to the age-old question, What would Britney Spears look like as painted by Roy Lichtenstein?

More Proof that it's Mr. T's World

...and we are just fools that he pities in it. Fresh on the heels of his dramatic victory in the Barrelhouse March Madness Pop Icon vs. Writer Tournament comes this news that Mr. T is finally getting a reality show.

What took so long?

Apparently, the show will be on TV Land and will feature T as a "Dr. Phil style help guru." Okay, that's fine. And maybe this can set the stage for what America really wants to see: T against that puffy pussy Phil in a celebrity cage match, fool-pitying, quit yo jibber jabbering battle to the death.

Thanks Backwards City for the link.

Let X

We're pretty good about not using this space to pimp our own personal stuff, but I'm going to take a break from that to tell you that anybody within a few hours of DC should take the opportunity to go see Let X, a new play by Barrelhouse Poetry Editor Gwydion Suilebhan.

Let X is running at the Mead Theater Lab at Flashpoint, just a few steps from the Gallery Place Metro stop in DC, and you have four more chances to catch it (Thurs - Sat at 8:00 pm, Sunday at 2 pm). Here's more info. Seriously, you should go see it.

The play gets a great review in the Washington Post today.

Put on your math caps:

Let X equal a play self-consciously taking itself apart before an audience as it continually redefines its terms of reality. Say that the play is about a playwright writing a play about a playwright, and the playwrights aggressively jockey for stewardship of the play as they both try to win the girl. Solve for a review. Show your work.

"Let X" is an agreeable Pirandellian doodle by Gwydion Suilebhan, 70 minutes' worth of madcap reality-bending on the tiny Mead Theatre Lab stage at Flashpoint. The Mead is a small room, and director Lise Bruneau makes no pretense of creating a formal backstage area in her nimble production for the Taffety Punk Theatre Company. Actors fly in and out of the room's two doors, a surly character called the Stagehand occasionally emerges from what looks like a cinder block electrical closet, and characters are even whisked back to the tech booth to watch an alternative version of events.

Here's the whole review.

I saw it on Saturday and that's a pretty good description. All I have to add is that it's a fun, fast play that's really well acted. And it's certainly the funniest, most enjoying anything having to do with math that I've ever seen.

Oh, and it's only ten bucks!