Boswell's Life of Don Johnson

From Bookslut, on NewYorker.com, here's Ian Frazier:

Dined this evening in company at Enrique’s Little Havana, an eating place (with dancing). Of a sudden, came a measure of stirring music, and through the door strode a man of good figure and erect carriage, wearing a light-colored nankeen suit and spectacle, of a tint so opaque as to hide the eyes within. Instantly, I recognized the celebrated Don Johnson—this despite his stature, which was in appearance somewhat shorter than in the portrait at the National Gallery. At the first opportunity, I took leave of my party, made my way to his table, and, emboldened by the warmth of my sentiment, clasped him by the hand. Conveying to him my admiration in the strongest terms, I added that I had many questions that I hoped one day to discus, with him, and inquired whether I might call upon him some afternoon at his trailer. In the silence that ensued, my heart raced in anticipation of another of Don Johnson’s famed epigrams, when, with a look at his companions at table, Don Johnson replied, "Hey. Who is this wing nut?"

Just as brilliant today as 1986, when it was originally published. Read it.

Seinfeld on Crack

That's how some critic, somewhere, described It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. And if that sounds good to you then you really should be watching. If you liked Seinfeld because the characters were scheming, selfish, bad people who consistently got themselves into bad situations by scheming selfishly, then Sunny is probably for you.

Last season the show was brilliant half the time, and seemed like they were making it up as they went along half the time (turns out, they probably were). This season, with the addition of Danny DeVito, who must be doing this for fun because he certainly doesn't need any of the FX Network's money, that ratio has improved to about 75% brilliant, 25% tossed off.

The show is about four friends who buy a bar in Philadelphia. Kind of the same way Seinfeld was about four friends who, well, do nothing in New York. Like Seinfeld, there are three guys and a girl, all of whom are pretty much complete assholes, in different ways (vain, stupid, drunk, self-deluded, etc), and all of whom are completely self-absorbed.

Seinfeld did some dangerous, edgy stuff. The masturbation contest, Susan's death. But the "on crack" part of Sunny is well earned. They kind of take that edgy thing and walk right off the cliff. Episode titles like "Dennis and Dee Go On Welfare" and "The Gang Exploits a Miracle" and "The Gang Gets Racist" and "Mac Bangs Dennis's Mom" give you a pretty good idea about what happens.

If those titles made you chuckle, check it out tonight. FX used to have a really great site, with loads of video, but they seem to have taken down most of the good stuff. Anyway, here's where you can get some video, commercials, etc.

Aspiring Cosmonaut Gay

In case you didn't know 5 years ago, Lance Bass is gay.

"He was forced to come out after being annoyed by paparazzi shots featuring him and his openly gay lover Lehmkuhl in various spots, even wearing each other’s shirts."

Side note: You may be more familiar with Lehmkukl as the winner of the Amazing Race, Season 4.

Clerks 2, Capitals 0

Hockey season is just 120 days away. Or something like that.

But in honor of Clerks 2, I thought I'd raise this somewhat ridiculous question: what movie would you most like to see a sequel to?

Keep in mind that sacrilege is funny. Like that scene in The Player when Buck Henry is seen pitching a sequel to The Graduate, where Mrs. Robinson has had a stroke and has to move in with Benjamin and his wife.

That, my friends, is comedy.

Saving Private Ryan 2: The College Years?

Finally a Literary Journal Just for Me

No, not Barrelhouse. I'm talking about Road Rage Review:

We're looking for work that evokes the truly American feeling of being rear-ended at a busy intersection, emerging from the car like a Greek god, pulling the cocksucker from the front seat of his BMW, ripping open his pelvis, and savagely gnawing on his shrunken prostate.

From McSweeneys, "Eight New Entries in the 2007 Writers Market Guide to Literary Journals."

When the President Talks to God

We try to keep this kind of a non political space, and god knows I post way more about shitty movies and television than about anything else. But...in the wake of the stem cell veto and corresponding (and just kind of gross) photo op with little "fetus adoption" children (note to fetus adopters: there are plenty of former fetuses, which we sane people call "unfrozen, unwanted human children" available for adoption, you freaks), all despite the fact that the overwhelming majority of former fetuses, including those former fetuses who occupy Congress, and even Republican former fetuses like Bill Frist, for fuck's sake, agree that stem cell research is in general an important step in the right direction, it seems like a good time for these lyrics.

When the president talks to God
Are the conversations brief or long?
Does he ask to rape our women’s' rights
And send poor farm kids off to die?
Does God suggest an oil hike
When the president talks to God?

When the president talks to God
Are the consonants all hard or soft?
Is he resolute all down the line?
Is every issue black or white?
Does what God say ever change his mind
When the president talks to God?

When the president talks to God
Does he fake that drawl or merely nod?
Agree which convicts should be killed?
Where prisons should be built and filled?
Which voter fraud must be concealed
When the president talks to God?

When the president talks to God
I wonder which one plays the better cop
We should find some jobs. the ghetto's broke
No, they're lazy, George, I say we don't
Just give 'em more liquor stores and dirty coke
That's what God recommends

When the president talks to God
Do they drink near beer and go play golf
While they pick which countries to invade
Which Muslim souls still can be saved?
I guess god just calls a spade a spade
When the president talks to God

When the president talks to God
Does he ever think that maybe he's not?
That that voice is just inside his head
When he kneels next to the presidential bed
Does he ever smell his own bullshit
When the president talks to God?

More Guilty Pleasures

On July 5, 2006, my life changed. A friend told me to look up "Azilee" on Google. Then he said "No, it's Alizee" So I did. She is a French pop singer who is exponentially hotter than Allysa Milano was at her hottest...

So enjoy:

But here's the part I really feel guilty about: I kinda dig the song. Would it be lame if I bought the album?

Steve Guttenberg: Only A Little Jew-y

I have no idea what to make of Steve Guttenberg's mad ramblings. Maybe Mahoney took too many baton blows to the head? Or maybe he's just performing the important public service of providing humorous distraction to an America freaked out by high gas prices, interminable war, crazy End Times fanatics and "Master of Champions."

I'm doing something, it's actually called 'Jew Fever.' It's this kind of a cool Hallmark show that I think is going to be sort of a ... it's actually coming from the Right, but it's really cool. It's about this family, you know. They live in Ohio and they're farmers and pretty conservative, pretty right wing and this Jew comes in, actually comes in from space. I guess he lands on some sort of ... I don't know exactly what the story is. I just thumbed through it. I wasn't able to bring the script home. But I guess this Martian, sort of like 'Mork & Mindy,' he lands in their backyard, big like 'Superman' thing, and they run out there and they pop open this egg, and this little Jew jumps out. Now I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not very Jew-y looking. I'm sort of semi-Jew-y looking. I could be maybe Italian? You know, in the right position? But I could be Jew-y too. So I come out and I look kind of Jew-y...

I come out as a baby, you know, like a little baby and I come out and I do sort of a couple minutes with them and I grow up and I sort of jump and you see me doing incredible things like reading the Torah really fast and kissing the mezuzah like a thousand times, stuff like that. He's just a Jew, and he's just a nervous Jew. And he works in the yeshiva and puts out a yeshiva newsletter and there he meets Esther.

Of course there's more. Including the Gutt's take on "nasty penguins," his "unbelievable" performance on Veronica Mars and the subtle difference in connotation between "child fondler" and "child molester."

Paris Hilton: a not-at-all-skinny girl pulling herself up by her bootstraps

Paris Hilton thinks too-skinny girls "look gross" and she hates rich kids who depend on their parents for money.

In other news, my head just exploded.

How to Succeed in English by Really Trying

Via www.aldaily.com, a very compelling essay on pursuing graduate studies in literature.

What If You Made a Terrible Movie on Purpose, and Everybody Loved It?

As a fan of bad movies, I'm a little put off by all this Snakes on a Plane business. Like Avril Lavigne in a Clash t-shirt, or a $75 AC/DC hoodie at Bloomingdales, something about the whole Snakes on a Plane phenomenon is just rubbing me the wrong way. Turns out I'm in good company: Barrelhouse issue three interviewee Chuck Klosterman has an interesting article for Esquire called "The Snakes on a Plane Problem." At the same time, Salon's Aemelia Scott weighs in on the subject and takes Klosterman to task for feeling, like me, a little uncomfortable with all this fuss.

To me, the thing is this: bad movies are supposed to be bad by accident. There's something glorious about a movie that is truly terrible, that takes place in, let's say, a world in which there can be a world famous bouncer, and where Kelly Lynch is a doctor. If that movie -- which, in case you wandered into the wrong blog and don't know what I'm talking about, is, of course, Road House -- were called "World Famous Bouncer" (or if Point Break was called "Keanu Reeves as a Surfer FBI Agent" or Double Jeopardy were "Ashey Judd Tracks Down Her Husband Wearing Different Cute Outfits And Almost Dies in Every Scene Until She Meets up with Tommy Lee Jones and Then She Really Almost Dies and Then She Finally Triumphs And Couldn't Look Any Cuter While Doing It"), the beauty of the bad movie would be lost. And that beauty is the difference between what they were trying to do and what they did, and how incredibly stupid they were, how every single decision somehow went wonderfully awry.

Scott thinks differently. To her, it works like this:

This reveals the meaning of the cult classic. The C factor lies not in the shittiness of the film but in the agreement between moviemaker and moviegoer on the film's shittiness. The moviegoer goes to see a movie and thinks, "Wow, this movie is going to be terrible for X, Y and Z reasons." The bad movie delivers reasons X, Y and Z. The cult film responds, "Oh yeah? You think you know X, Y and Z? We're gonna show you some X, Y and Z!"

"Snakes on a Plane" is an agreement, but one born of an unlikely power shift. It's an agreement between moviegoer and Hollywood. It's an agreement between David and Goliath, where Goliath slips up and calls himself a knuckle-dragging retard giant.

I disagree. I think the first thing we have to do is distinguish between Cult Movies and Bad Movies. Cult movies can be good. In fact, they can be great. Spinal Tap is a cult movie. Slacker and Dazed and Confused are cult movies.

Bad movies are entirely different. And I think what Snakes on a Plane is going for is the Bad Movie kind of cult movie, the kind of movie whose predecessors are Shaft and Over the Top and Anaconda. These are movies where the shittiness is inescapable and accidental, where shittiness is the oxygen that the film breathes, the stuff it was made from, shittiness is absolutely inseparable from the film.

Man, Anaconda was one really great, terrible, shitty movie.

But can you do that on purpose? I don't think so. Watching a movie where they do that on purpose would be like watching the Mystery Science Theater TV show while they watch the Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie. It's too meta. Twice removed, something about the entire concept just doesn't work, the math doesn't add up.

I tend to agree with Klosterman, who says, of the bad movie fan:

This kind of appreciation is based on the premise that the bad movie aspired to be good. If a film never takes itself seriously and originates as satire, everything is different; its badness means something else entirely.

So as somebody who owns Road House on DVD, and who has seen Hot Dog: The Movie possibly twenty times, I'm a little nervous about all this hub-bub. Will I be watching? Probably. I mean, even with all this trepidation and meta-discussion, I'll still pay ten bucks to hear Samuel Jackson say "motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane."

But as a lover of bad movies, this all makes me nervous. I mean, where do we go from here? It might work once. Snakes on a Plane might be a hilarious, legitimately bad movie, oozing shittiness out of its every pore (after all, you can't blame the marketers for taking advantage of the Internet's random fascination w/ the film's title). But what about the next wave of bad on purpose movies? What about Really Angry Birds on a Bus? Alligators in a Cubible? What are we bad movies fans going to do with these -- watch for the moments when the filmmakers stumbled and actually created something good?

Wing Nut(s) of the Week: Save me Jeebus!!!

I know it's late in the day, and all of you Barrelhousers with jobs have gone home already, or perhaps to the Big Hunt or another such D.C.-area watering hole ... but I couldn't resist posting this link to a message board full of people who are awfully excited about the latest round of fighting in the Middle East.

As bghtnpd4 puts it:

I am excited beyond words that the struggle of this life may be over soon and I can finally be FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

*Shelle circles her fist over her head and imitates Arsenio Hall by yelling* WHOO-WHOO-WHOO

Not only am I impressed with bghtnpd4's enthusiasm, I'm psyched to see Arsenio Hall still getting a shoutout from someone. Don't ever accuse the Fundamentalist Christians of being behind the pop culture curve.

Then there's Maria, who says:

I sure will join you in your excitement! I haven't been watching the news lately, especially today, since my little ones hug the TV most of the time...

I'm guessing she means "hog." Then again, maybe Maria's just so darn busy crocheting "In Case Of Rapture..." throw pillows that her children have had to seek out love from inanimate household objects.

Finally, there's kidsintow123, who's cueing up the Boyz II Men CD and breaking out the scented massage oils for her Lord:

If He tarries, I will just have time to get my hair and nails done ... So i am all spiffied up for Him when He does arrive to take me home. No disappointment, just a few last minute details to take care of to be more pleasing to look at.

Be afraid, people. Be very, very afraid.

Wish I Was Clever Enough to Think of a Title That Isn't "Silent Bob Speaks"

But I'm not. At least not right now. I have to admit that I'm terrified of Clerks II. Really worried about it. Not in the way I'd be terrified of, say, Little Man, which is a physical, how long will this movie last, why are these kidnappers forcing me to watch a Wayans CGI'd onto a little person's body and making poop and boob jokes kind of way.

I'm nervous for Kevin Smith. I'm worried that Kevin Smith is slowly but surely chipping away at Kevin Smith until there'll be no Kevin Smith left.

I loved Clerks, liked Chasing Amy a lot, and laughed a fair amount at Dogma. I even made it through Mallrats more or less unscathed. But I didn't have the heart to see Jersey Girl, and while I'm sure everybody had a hell of a time making Jay and Silent Bob's Revenge, it really wasn't too, um, good.

So it's been awhile for Kevin Smith, and that's why I'm nervous about Clerks II. He seems like a very cool guy in general -- funny, loyal, smart, down to earth. I love that he puts out comics, blogs, interacts with his fans online, and that he did a guest appearance as a convenience store clerk on Veronica Mars. I love everything about him but the past two or three movies.

So I don't know, this Clerks II business is a real tightrope act. I hope like hell that its great. Or at least good. Good would be fine.

But I worry.

Anyway, all that is prelude to a really good online chat with Smith on washingtonpost.com this week, in which he talks about why he made Clerks II, why Snakes on a Plane played into the film's opening date, why he's glad to not be making Jersey Girl again, and which boy band member he's frequently mistaken for. And a lot of other stuff.

Seriously, he seems like a great guy. Fingers crossed.

Notes to the POD People

It's probably not nice to make fun of the well-meaning people who self-publish their books through print-on-demand companies like PublishAmerica. But it is funny. This brave blogger waded through a bunch of them and compiled a few helpful editoral notes for the POD people.

A couple of my favorites from the list:

--I'm not sure what this means: "He was everywhere and nowhere all at once; he smelled like tuna."

--Reykjavik is in Iceland, not Russia. By the way, it's not in Poland, either.

--Mickey Mack McKeldinroy. Not necessarily my top choice for a name for your protagonist--considering he's Italian.

--Are the folks who make Sunny Delight paying you for the abundant product placement? I mean, really, who drinks Sunny D with a porterhouse?

--Actually, I think the planets revolve around the sun, not the other way around. Oh, and there's nine of them, by the way.

Although, I have to add a snarky note of my own to the author of the post: I'm pretty sure dialectical doesn't mean what you think it does.

In McSweeneys: Notes on Sweet Child O' Mine As Delivered to Axl Rose by His Editor

McSweeneys is funny:

She's got a smile that, it seems to me — Why equivocate? You weaken your point by framing this as a mere personal observation instead of a fact.

Reminds me of childhood memories — Redundant. You either have a memory or you're reminded of something. You're not reminded of a memory. Heavy-metal fans won't stand for such writing, my friend.

Read the whole thing.

Face Off: America's Got Talent vs. Master of Champions

How is it possible that NBC's America's Got Talent can be so completely entertaining, while ABC's Master of Champions, which is essentially the same concept -- people with odd talents compete for a prize -- is just painfully bad?

Maybe it's because AGT has Regis as carnival barker and The Hasselhoff as talent judge (the idea of David Hasselhoff as a judge of talent is so patently ridiculous that it actually works), whereas MoC has ex-Padres star Steve Garvey and that douchebag who hosts the MTV Real World/Road Rules Challenge.

Or maybe it's because AGT is campy and fun, with a nice mix of legitimately talented people and idiots making fools of themselves, whereas MoC is self-serious to the point of parody, with their admonition to the weekly winner of "go put your name on the Wall of Champions, where it will remain forever!" (or at least until we get canned.) The tone of AGT is like a cross between a summer camp talent show and the original Let's Make a Deal, with strangely costumed audience members getting called down to perform their weird entertainments. Whereas MoC has this weird translated-from-the-Japanese feel to it, like the American version of Iron Chef.

Whatever the reason, America's Got Talent is awesome. Actually, it's one of those shows I'd probably make fun of people for watching if I hadn't seen it myself. Maybe I have to reconsider my position on some of these other competition-based shows I never watch, but always just assume are idiotic, like American Idol, or Dancing With the Stars.

A Sequel to a Bad Movie That Was Based on an Amusement Park Ride

That's what the new Pirates of the Caribbean is. And don't worry, this isn't another review telling you that the new movie, second in the trilogy, sucks. That's been done by Salon, Slate, and most likely every newspaper in the country.

What I'm wondering is why anybody would be surprised. Am I the only person who thought the first one -- the first movie based on an amusement park ride, that is -- completely and totally sucked? It was two and a half hours of bad CGI, wooden acting, terrible, random plot twists, and Johnny Depp doing a completely random Keith Richards impersonation. That movie ended five times, each time more perplexing and less satisfying than the last. It wasn't a fun romp. It was a shitty mess that somehow hypnotized normally discerning people into believing that it was some kind of throwback rip-roaring yarn. Or something.

I'll give you Depp's Keith Richards imitation. That was, if nothing else, extremely entertaining. I distinctly remember the lightbulb coming on throughout the movie, thinking, "this is crazy, I mean, it makes no sense at all...but I swear he's doing a Keith Richards imitation here..." But that would be crazy, right? I mean, just completely random. Well, turns out that's exactly what he was doing.

So given that the first one sucked, the second one was bound to suck even more, in the same annoying ways, and new ones (such as, not to spoil the joy of reading Slate's bad review, a cliffhanger ending, a la Lord of the Rings), the question I'm wondering is not why Johnny Depp decided to play the pirate as Keith Richards. I mean, I guess that kind of makes sense, and Johnny Depp paid for Hunter Thompson's remains to be blasted out of a cannon, so the guy pretty much gets a lifetime pass from me.

The question I'm wondering is exactly how and why did Keith Richards turn himself into a pirate? I mean, Mick Jagger isn't some kind of modern day pirate, adorned with rings and scarves and other pirate-ous, um, adornments. So what the hell happened to Keith? When? It seems like this started sometime in the 80s, maybe around Undercover of the Night. Was this on purpose? Did he wake up one day and say, you know, why don't I just try a little more for that, um, pirate look? Is it the drugs? The booze?

Keith is cool. He's pretty much the definition of cool. But still, he used to be a rock star. Now he is a pirate/rock star. How did we get here?

Guilty Pleasures

The other day I was trying to organize the music on my ipod and also transfer some songs from my CD collection, which led to a number of small moments of existential crisis: is this really the music I like? Am I willing to admit it?

I usually think of myself as a bit of a music snob -- I mean, I'm not one of those assholes who stops listening to bands the moment more than ten people have heard of them, but I love my KEXP and I see a lot of indie-rock shows (or, well, I did, until I moved to the corn fields of Iowa). On my list of dream vacations would be both South by Southwest and Coachella.

And yet there's the ipod evidence. Mixed in with the Pixies and the Arcade Fire and Hendrix and the Beatles and Gnarls Barkley and Bloc Party, there's ... Journey? Billy Joel? Bananarama? Holy lord. Is this really who I am?

In an attempt to atone for my musical sins, or at least purge some of the guilt, I've decided the best thing I can do is admit to these embarrasing guilty pleasures in a public forum. Kind of like AA, but for questionable musical taste. Before you keel over laughing, though, take a look at what you've got on your own ipod. You may be surprised.

The Bangles -- Hazy Shade of Winter. Yes, I know: the Bangles. Though you have to admit that Susanna Hoffs is hot, right? And now that she's done that album of covers with Matthew Sweet, she's gained some street cred, right? Right? This song is from the title sequence of the movie Less Than Zero, which I happened to really like circa eighth or ninth grade. I once bought an album of movie hits from the 80's just for this tune, and, to a lesser extent, the Simple Minds song "Don't You (Forget About Me)."

Bananarama -- Cruel Summer. Another movie song, this one from The Karate Kid. So, we've got a song I shouldn't admit to liking from a movie I shouldn't admit to liking. But you know what? I like both of them. Hey, this feels pretty good. Cleansing.

Journey -- When the Lights Go Down In the City. I think Journey is one of those bands that people only pretend they're enjoying ironically. Well, I'm not pretending anymore. I dig me some Journey. You got a problem with that, you skinny little hipster douchebag? Because I noticed you were singing along to "Open Arms," but I'm sure you just memorized those lyrics as a goof, right?

Don Henley -- Boys of Summer. You know what made me mad? When that band The Ataris remade this song. You know what made me madder? When I had to admit I liked "Boys of Summer" enough to be angered by the remake. Maybe it's because I grew up by a beach, and fall is my favorite season, so this song was always particularly evocative. Or maybe I just have no taste.

Michael Penn -- No Myth. Is this even a guilty pleasure, or have we admitted yet that Michael Penn is really talented? (You should download the new song "Walter Reed" if you don't believe me.) I particularly like that this song celebrates the once-fashionable black jean. I don't want to turn this post into an episode of I Love the 80's, but does anyone else remember when you could get jeans in just about any color of the rainbow? I had a pair of brown jeans, and a pair of green jeans. That's right -- all of my embarrasing shit is coming out today.

Dave Matthews Band -- Warehouse. I know I'm supposed to dislike Dave Matthews, and mostly I do. But I went to college in Virginia right around the time Under the Table and Dreaming came out -- there was a brief period there when no one outside of the state seemed to know who Dave Matthews was, but around campus he was referred to simply as "Dave," as if he was everyone's best buddy. I lived in this massive freshman dorm, and walking down the halls you'd hear Dave Matthews coming from about 50% of the rooms (the other half divided equally between Blues Traveler, Live, and Phish). You'd think hearing Dave Matthews all the time would have made me hate his music, but oddly enough, I've retained a kind of odd fondness for certain songs. If I put this on, I can almost smell the stale Beast Light.

Cyndi Lauper -- Time After Time. Okay, I have no real defense for this. I am the lamest man ever.

The Beach Boys -- Wendy. I know that the best Beach Boys album is Pet Sounds. I know, I know, I know. It really is a great album. But I'm still a big fan of Endless Summer, the rather simplistic ode to surfing, cute girls, school spirit and (this is subtext, of course) lost innocence. When I was a little kid and took road trips with my parents, I would listen to Endless Summer on my Walkman over and over again. I think I liked it because the songs added up to a kind of story, and also because part of that story had to do with high school. When you're a little kid, high school seems like just about the coolest place on Earth. Which, in hindsight, is pretty damn funny.

Concrete Blonde -- Joey. Is this a guilty pleasure? Concrete Blonde is considered good, right? Whatever. I like this song, whether I'm supposed to or not.

Sarah McLachlan -- Adia. This song sounds like it should be playing over the end credits of a particularly weepy episode of Dawson's Creek, but I still enjoy it. Like Susanna Hoffs, Sarah McLachlan is hot, and that should count for something, right?

Billy Joel -- Say Goodbye to Hollywood. On those long-ago road trips with the parents, when I got tired of Endless Summer, I'd often listen to Billy Joel (at the age of three or four, my musical taste was pretty well limited by what my parents had available, which meant the Beach Boys, Billy Joel, Simon and Garfunkle and Fleetwood Mac.) My dad used to buy albums and then record them onto hi-fi tape, so I had The Stranger on one side and Turnstiles on the other. Now that I'm older, I realize Billy Joel is pretty cheesy, but I still enjoy certain songs in moderation, like this one.

Poison -- Talk Dirty to Me / Motley Crue -- Kickstart My Heart. These songs were both out when I was in middle school. Man, they sure rocked. And they were both kind of dirty, which only added to the allure. A lot of the hair metal I liked back then I find hard to listen to now (Whitesnake, or Def Leppard, for instance), but these two are still pretty okay.

Asia -- Heat of the Moment. I honestly can't tell anymore whether I appreciate this song ironically, or unironically, or half-ironically. All I know is that if it comes on the radio, I'm usually not going to change the station. It's like a middle school dance plus a roller-skate birthday party rolled into one.

hope you've enjoyed this little guided tour through my shame. But I'm sure I'm not the only one with guilty pleasures -- feel free to leave your own in the comments field.

A comprehensive list of movies that have put me to sleep when I was watching them in the theater:

In alphabetical order:

- "Superman Returns"

That is all.

What a boring, self-reverential, dull, dull, piece of crap that was. Besides the soul-crushing boredom, here are 7 other things that bothered me about the movie:

- I spent $9.50 to see it at an alleged Imax theater that isn't really an Imax screen so much as a slightly bigger, much louder theater.

- I forgot what a tool Superman is. How am I supposed to enjoy rooting for a guy who has every possible power at his disposal, especially when his enemies are somewhat evil humans who have no particular powers? He can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. His only limitations are an aversion to an incredibly rare radioactive rock and a total wussiness when it comes to talking to uninteresting women.

- Awful writing. Superman's motto changes from "For Truth, Justice, and the American Way" to "For Truth, Justice, and all that stuff." Now, I'm not going to bother with discussing the unbelievably stupid explanation for the change (technically, the writers claim, Superman is an immigrant, and, as such, would not like America, because our nation isn't friendly to immigrants. Don't try wrapping your brain around that logic, or you might feel the urge to punch the next superhero you see in the head). Here's my issue: if you're going to change it, at least put a effort into the change. The best the writing team could come up with is "All that stuff?" Reminds me of the Simpsons episode when the Itchy & Scratchy writing team is told to come up with a name for the new hip dog character, and they unanimously agree on the first suggestion-- Poochie.

- I know this has been discussed ad nauseum, and I know superhero movies particularly demand a suspension of disbelief. But I absolutely cannot accept the concept that no one can ever figure out that Clark Kent is Superman, not even the people who see both him and Superman nearly every day. Even beyond appearance, wouldn't you notice that when Superman is in the hospital, so is Clark Kent? Or when Superman disappears for five years (and inexplicably returns to earth on a runaway meteor) so does Clark Kent, and they both return on the same day? Or when he talks and sounds exactly like Clark Kent? Even 5 year olds with learning disabilites have to be wondering why no one can figure it out.

- The acting was awful. Kevin Spacey enters the mailing-it-in Hall of Fame immediately, along with Derrick Coleman (Sixers version), Robert Deniro (Rocky and Bullwinkle version), and Val Kilmer (pretty much anything he's ddone besides Tombstone and The Doors).

- It was two and a half god damn hours long, and I'm pretty sure all Superman did was catch falling stuff at the last second and then place it down gently. Repeatedly.

- Lex Luthor's plan was so baffling in it's stupidity and scope that i had a hard time ever understanding the threat to humanity, or even the motivations. All in all, it seemed like one of the dumbest world domination plots ever enacted since Pinky and the Brain were on the loose. As supervillains go, this version of Lex Luthor was one of the worst of all time. Also, people were inexplicably terrified (to the point of shrieking and running away) every time they saw one of Luthor's wigs.

Save your money. Go rent Batman Returns and watch that 6 times before you watch this one.