Barrlehouse at AWP

One last reminder: Barrelhouse is having a reading this Thursday at 7pm at KGB Bar. Greg Ames has had to drop out and our own Dave Housley will be stepping in to read from his new book, Ryan Seacrest is Famous.

Ada Limon, Barbara Duffey, Lee Klein, and Dave Housley
KGB Bar
85 East 4th St.
NYC
Thursday, January 31st 7-9pm

Come by our table at the AWP bookfair and pick up the brand spankin' new issue.

You better, or we'll sick the crow on you.

Meet the Meet the Spartans!

This great film was the box office winner this past weekend, beating out the new Rambo movie, titled "Rambo: Screw the AARP". While some see this as a sign that our country is kicking itself down the Spartan bottomless well, I am heartened that it only brought in $18 million, which is clearly not a box office smash.

What is depressing, though, is the timidity of this movie's writers and producers and director, in not going far enough to test the patiences of America's dwindling moviegoing public. Just like in Idiocracy, where a movie with endless farting won Best Original Screenplay, and another movie featured a guy getting kicked in the balls over and over and over, why didn't they just release a movie where the head Spahtan just kicked people down into the hole for 2 straight hours? People besides Britney that needed kicking too, like Tom Cruise, Tom Brady, Bill Belichick, Bill and Hillary, Rudy Guiliani, Lindsay Lohan, Jerry Seinfeld, Josh Brolin, the list goes on so long, a 3 hour director's cut might be needed.

I would totally go to see that.

Defamer has some more fun with the movie here.

Forget Reading

Barrelhouse 5 contributor Anthony Hawley has a new book out from Shearsman. It's his second full length and contains the full sequence of P(r)etty Sonnets, some of which appears in the latest issue of Barrelhouse, and his chapbook "Record Breakers," which has been blogged about here in the past.

Pop Quiz: Household Safety Edition

Okay, so you walk into a room and find an acquaintance naked and not moving and very possibly dead.

Quick: what do you do?

You call Mary Kate Olson, of course.

The End of an Era

Ali Campbell has quit UB40 after almost 30 years, citing marital discord management problems.

"The other band members of UB40 are naturally disappointed and saddened after being together as a band unit and as good friends for almost 30 years," the statement said.

UB40's upcoming "24/7," which was recorded with Campbell, will be released as planned in May.

I urge you all to raise a glass of red, red wine to them tonight.

P.S.
This is a publicity stunt, probably. Otherwise, they may have sold just 2 albums in light of Alicia Keys being at No. 1 but still with pathetic sales. Who is Alicia Keys, you ask? Well, I'm GLAD you asked:
What's that? you're right, I CAN do better:

They Can Do Better

This parody of the Tom Cruise Scientology videos is being greeted with much hilarity. Having been creeped out by the real deal (the most creepy part is the military salue Tom gives the head of Scientology as he walks onstage to accept his Medal of Valor--seriously, he holds it for like 30 seconds), I am not impressed by Jerry O'Connell's parodic skills. Ben Stiller would have done a better job, I think, but he's scared of Tom Cruise.

Obligatory Tom Cruise Post

So Tom Cruise is crazy. Completely batshit, raving, super mega jumbo extra crazy. That's been well established. So much so, in fact, that he's still Gawker's main navigation item, and the story over there is morphing into coverage of the coverage (stories about how other websites can duplicate Gawker's incredible, Tom Cruise related traffic surge).

If you haven't seen the video, you really have to check it out. It's fascinating and funny and profoundly creepy. I think this quote sums it up nicely: ""Being a Scientologist, when you drive past an accident it's not like anyone else...you know that you're the only one who can help."

He talks about how scientologists are the only ones who can "bring peace" and "healing" and "clean this place up" and lots of kind of grand, super vague assertions along those lines. He laughs maniacally and talks about how he doesn't let SPs (those would be suppressive people, aka, all y'all, aka, anybody who is not a scientologist) anywhere near his "area."

Anyway, I can't recommend it highly enough. Definitely the best movie he's been in since, wow, I guess maybe Top Gun. And that wasn't really "good," or I should say, its good in exactly the same way Point Break is good. When was the last time that guy was in an actual good movie, anyway? And don't give me Magnolia, that bloated frog raining piece of crap. Gawker still has the goods if you haven't seen it already.

So the most interesting thing about the movie, and Tom Cruise in general, is what a good story this is. It's Elmer Gantry and All the Kings Men meets, shit, I don't know, some movie where a giant weird church founded by a science fiction writer hoodwinks some half-smart movie star into believing that he's conquered time and space and can do anything he wants, and that they know this because the made-up instruments that they've created tells them so. Seriously, that's a good movie.

I'm really curious what Tom Cruise thinks his abilities are. In Tom Cruise's head, can he really help a car accident victim? Like, just because he's "OT7" and more "clear" than John Travolta. Can he bring peace? What would that mean? How exactly would he pull that off, scientologically speaking? I'm honestly curious about this. I picture him in some big room in Clearwater Florida, with some kind of football helmet with wires coming out of it on his head, and a big made-up control room thing -- lights flashing, charts, things blipping and beeping -- and that David Miscavige character standing there pretending to read the fake blips and saying "Oh my god, Tom, you are sooooo clear. Sweet LRH, you can do anything you want to...hey, let's go make a video with you laughing like a madman and saying crazy shit..."

But when Tom Cruise thinks about these notions, "peace" or "cleaning things up," what the hell is he thinking about. Would he start with a mission statement, draw up a list of stuff to do, a workplan, measurements of success? I mean, I build websites here at my real job, and it takes a shitload of paperwork and a lot of people working in concert just to get one of these little things online. And we're not exactly working on world peace, or cleaning up the world, or, you know, vaguely doing something assertive that would make the world a better place for the aliens that are sleeping in our bodies.

So when Tom Cruise pictures Tom Cruise "helping" or "cleaning things up," does he picture himself as a cross between Kofi Annan and George Bush and the Terminator? Or does he just imagine that he stands there on the roof of the Hollywood Celebrity Center and, like, thinks really hard about "helping" or "cleaning things up." Does he assume that he is so goddam "clear" that he just forces all of this shit back into shape (whatever that might mean)? Maybe if him and John Travolta stand at opposite ends of the earth and both think about it really hard, lightning bolts will come out of their heads and cleanse the earth in the fire of L. Ron Hubbard's made-up righteousness.

Seriously, what do you think this jackass thinks he's talking about?

[double-dipped from Another Harebrained Scheme]

...

Six Degrees of Ripping Off

What do you get if you combine the OC, Karate Kid, Rocky, and Fight Club?

Never Back Down. This movie is described thusly on IMDB:

At his new high school, a rebellious teen (Faris) is lured into an underground fight club, where he finds a mentor in a mixed martial arts veteran (Hounsou).

The trailer I saw last night includes an Ed Norton lookalike, a training montage involving a black man and a white man running with an oceanic backgrop, and lots of exotic kicking. How much you want to bet the white man wins the race in the end, while learning invaluable lessons along the way?

Those of us watching the UFC last night were also treated to a "sneak peek" of the new Rambo, which involved Rambo urging his male and female companions to run, setting up a claymore mine and then running like hell. The bad guys (looking very North Vietnamese but actually Burmese) uncover the claymore at the last second before it explodes, destroying half the jungle (apparently one of those nucular claymores.)

Thankfully, Rambo has the necessary footspeed to outrun the explosion, just like Ahnuld way back in Predator. I couldn't quite hear any maniacal, otherworldly laughter echoing through the jungle, because I was singing along to the soundtrack, Rob Zombie's classic "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor".

Anyhoo, upshot is, I'm disappointed that Rambo is stealing from other 80s action movies besides his own. I was kind of hoping the new Rambo movie would just be a bunch of clips from the previous Rambo movies thrown together, almost like Gus Van Sant's shot for shot remake of Psycho, but different.

If You Could Change Anything About Yourself, What Would It Be?

Just like a woman to do a total makeover that includes changing her blood type.

Demi-Lee Brennan was aged nine and seriously ill with liver failure when she received the transplant, doctors at a top Sydney children's hospital told AFP.

Nine months later it was discovered that she had changed blood types and her immune system had switched over to that of the donor after stem cells from the new liver migrated to her bone marrow.

She is now a healthy 15-year-old, Michael Stormon, a hepatologist treating her, told AFP. Stormon said he had given several presentations on the case around the world and had heard of none like it.

Actually, this is pretty frickin' unbelievable and potentially awesome, with far-reaching implications that I can only really understand once they are given a sinister cast and exploited by Hollywood.

BH at KGB for AWP in NYC

Barrelhouse brings out the best at KGB Bar on January 31st at 7pm. We'll have poets Ada Limon and Barbara Duffey alongside prose-stylists Lee Klein and Greg Ames.

That's Thursday night of AWP in case your social calendar is filling up quickly. If you're already got something to do, make up an excuse because you don't want to miss this.

Greg Ames lives and works in Brooklyn. His stories have appeared in McSweeney's, Open City, The Sun, Fiction International, and Other Voices. His poems about Ed Asner from Barrelhouse Issue 3 were selected for Best American Non-Required Reading 2007.

Barbara Duffey attends the Creative Writing PhD program at Utah. Her poems have appeared in the Indiana Review, Epicenter, and the Blue Mesa Review, and are forthcoming in Prairie Schooner.

Lee Klein edits Eyeshot.net and lives in Philadelphia. His essay about Barry Bond first published in Barrelhouse Issue 2 was later selected for Best American Non-Required Reading 2007.

Ada Limón is originally from Sonoma, California. A graduate of the Creative Writing Program at New York University, she won the Chicago Literary Award for Poetry and has received fellowships from the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center and the New York Foundation for the Arts. She works as the Copy Director for GQ Magazine and is teaching a Master Class for Columbia University's MFA program in Spring 2008. Her first book, luckywreck, was the winner of the 2005 Autumn House Poetry Prize. Her secondbook, This Big Fake World, was the winner of the 2005 Pearl Poetry Prize.

Special thanks to Dave Sankey for the awesome poster.

What's cooler than being cool?

I don't care if this has apparently been on youtube for over a year; it's the first time I've heard it, and I think it's cool.

Mat Weddle of Obadiah Parker performs an acoustic version of Outkast's "Hey Ya!"

Thank God Reality Is Picking Up the Slack

Have you noticed that, with the Writer's Strike dragging on and TV shows dropping out right and left (except of course, for the indefagitbable Terminators of the Sarah Connor Files), that Reality itself is elevating its game, superseding even Reality TV? It's like Reality is P.O.'ed that Reality TV is more like "real" TV than like Reality. To wit:

Tom Cruise's completely insane Scientology videos

Britney Spears ever-ongoing public meltdowns

Babymaking--Alba, Pamela Lee, McConnaughey, Spade, and others.

Politics--a good way through the primaries and we still don't have a frontrunner on either side.

The Patriots historic undefeated so-far season (much as I hate to admit it).

Even Sean Penn's pending divorce with Princess Buttercup over a newer, younger Princess Buttercup, and Eddie Murphy's non-marriage to Tracy Edmonds makes this list.

Maybe that's why Paradise Hotel is--finally--coming back! (old news, but I did see a preview for it while watching football this past weekend)

Another Triumph of Pop Culture

Thanks to a gaggle of horror movies, Stephen King, Morgan Spurlock, John Wayne Gacy, and a memorable episode of Seinfeld, the tipping point has been reached: Clowns are officially scary.

Bad news for Coco and Blinko -- children don't like clowns and even older kids are scared of them..."We found that clowns are universally disliked by children. Some found them quite frightening and unknowable."

I would like to know more about the history of clowns and their social context throughout history. Were they always frightening and unknowable? Any good books on this subject? Anyone? Anyone?

Speaking of clowns, our own Dave has a story about a pretty non-threatening, but lovelorn clown in his new collection: Ryan Seacrest is Famous.

Malice

I watched the end of the early 90s movie Malice, starring Alec Baldwin as a brilliant doctor, Bill Pullman as a just as brilliant doctor, and Nicole Kidman as a batshit insane wife of Bill Pullman. It is a suspense movie that featured a scene of Alec Baldwin and Nicole Kidman on a beach, thankfully recapping the plot for us (as I'd just tuned in) but also Alec Baldwin constantly correcting Nicole Kidman for her improper use of grammar while speaking.

So you're a guy, and you're on a beach, and you've got a girl. What do you do? What DO you do?

a) make sweet love to her
b) make all too sweet love to her
c) when finished making all too sweet love to her, only then correct her on her grammar
d) eschew the lovemaking, correct her on her grammar

The writer of such a memorable, reality-defying-for-the-sake-of-logification scene: Aaron Sorkin.

You never would have guessed.

I guess you do have to whore your way to the top

I developed a theory, in light of the relative success and wholesomeness of American Idol winners Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood and Clay Aiken, that American Idol short-circuited the fame process not necessarily to bring more "talent" to the fore, but to provide record companies with a more dependable product--with the meltdowns of Winehouse, Spears, the declining marketability of Jessica Simpson, etc., the record companies could probably make more money on a more, well, let's just say "boring" star over time.

Because, as we all know, the road to fame is torturous and long, and often involves making huge compromises for both stars and parents, not the least of which is selling the kid off to Disney or Nickleodeon at age 12. It takes a toll on these child-stars, who are burning out by the time they hit 25.

Well, if my theory is true then it's not working out so well, as this report from The Superficial documents. Both Katherine McPhee and Taylor Hicks have been dropped from their record labels. Taylor, I could see, but McPhee seems to have the looks to justify some creative sound engineering. Maybe even that didn't work.

A Clue to Spencer Pratt's (Continuing) Domination of US Weekly

Spencer Pratt's complete domination of US Weekly continues unabated. This week he is featured in page 16, a nice little shot of him and Heidi Boobjob standing next to... US WEEKLY'S PHOTO EDITOR. Surprise surprise.

The picture -- get it? -- is becoming clearer.

Heidi Boobjob also continues her streak, which somehow is less interesting to me than Spencer's. This week Heidi Boobjob got a lip job, so her lips are now the size of her original boobs. There's a kind of bizarro symmetry in that.

As always, I remain on the job, ever vigilant from my seat on the toilet, perusing US Weekly for the average one minute that it takes to spot Spencer Pratt's Steve Sanders-looking douche-mug. And I do it all for you. Until next week...

Novelty

DC-based artist and friend of the Barrelhouse Cory Oberndorfer presents Novelty, the latest line of cultural eye candy from The Derby Project. Novelty is a collection of murals gracing the Rotunda Gallery at the Katzen Arts Center. These limited-time murals are currently available for public viewing until January 18th, with a closing reception on Thursday, January 17th, 6:00-8:00pm.

You'll be able to catch more of Cory's art in the pages of Barrelhouse 6 this summer.

The U.S. Exports Democracy, and What Does Canada Export? Ass Beatings, That's What.

Russian players, like other Europeans, were often regarded as "soft" when they started playing in the NHL because they weren't down with the NHL's long and storied tradition of dropping the gloves when a) the team needed a "spark" b) the game was boring c) the game was out of hand d) the goalie looked at me cross-eyed and b) during regulation time. But as we can see below, the Russians think fighting is pretty cool after all!

I didn't listen with sound, which I imagine is in Russian, but it looks like some footage replayed at different angles. I like the part where they are all standing around and then someone's like, "Hey guys, we never fight on other side of rink! Let's check out!" Plus, it's always good to see the fight instigators deliver the most vicious beatings.
(Hat Tip: Deadspin)
Cross-posted on SteelSkins

Spencer Pratt's Domination of US Weekly Continues Unabated

The Spencer Pratt media domination continued over the holidays, for those of you who, like me, keeping track. Here's the situation: although actual data is unavailable, my estimate is that Spencer Pratt -- widely known for being a Steve Sanders looking douchebag on a bad fake reality television show, and the boyfriend of a horsey blond with big fake boobs -- has ingeniously managed to get himself in US Weekly for the past ten weeks. This might not seem like such a huge accomplishment, but keep in mind that the douchebag in question doesn't actually do anything. Nothing. So the fact that he kept turning up in my weekly 8 minutes of toiletside US Weekly reading started to seem kind of, well, weirdly significant.

So now I'm following the story like a lazy, pop-retarded Woodward and Bernstein. Except the way I follow it is by sitting down on the toilet every week and then shouting, "Hey Lori, he's fucking in Us Weekly again!"

So without further blah blah, here's the latest Spencer Pratt Us Weekly news:

Last week: random photo spread of Spencer and Heidi Boobjob ice skating. I should note that it's these obviously posed photos that fascinate me the most, because they're what we would call "earned media," meaning that somebody, somewhere, is just making this shit happen out of thin air. Why? Who? How? These are the things I don't know.

Week before last: Interestingly, this one featured Heidi Boobjob, talking about why she had to break off her engagement with Spencer. Although the article widely paints him as a douchebag, it preceded this past weeks' wacky ice skating pictures.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Lucky for you, I will continue to follow this story.