Friday Showbiz Scene, etc

Yet again it's a lackluster movie weekend.  Johnny Depp is in The Libertine, Tim Allen the Shaggy Dog, Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey in Failure to Launch and the Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes is back.  All of the big Oscar winners are now reinvigorated and will be opening in theaters again as well.

The Libertine was actually made in 2004 and you can see why they held on to it for a couple of years.  They might have thought that like wine it might get better in the basement.  I'm guessing the kids will like the Shaggy Dog.  It's yet another remake.  And Failure to Launch is the first movie I've ever reviewed without actually seeing it.  Listen for that below.

The Landmark Theaters have some pretty good fare including The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada and Tristram Shandy, A Cock and Bull Story.  Three Burials is  a well-told story directed by the movie's star, Tommy Lee Jones.  Three Burials is a definitely a movie for those who don't mind a bit of unfolding before they can slip comfortably into it.  Cock and Bull requires you like and understand the dry English wit.  My wife and I both liked it as a very honest and futile attempt to make a movie about a book that just might be unfilmable.  The original Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy was written in the late 18th century and was very popular for its bawdy humor.   It's nine volumes are considered a precursor to postmodern literature and some of it's characters are rumored to be used in the rituals of the Skull and Bones secret society, of which both George W. Bush and John Kerry are members.  

Here are a couple of entertainment ideas: The Abba inspired Mama Mia comes to town next week and the Avenue Theater has a great play called Smell of the Kill.   

The Showbiz Scene with Archer and Mark.

Update on Friday, March 10, 2006 at 05:08PM by ewy

I'm so afraid I'm dealing with the early onset of Alzheimers.  Seriously, I visit my grandmother in the memory impaired facility and she has it together more than me.   I bring this up because for weeks I've been waiting to promote the freaky cadavor exhibit at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science and I forgot to include it in my Showbiz Scene.   (Todays report was by far my most negative.  It's a pretty depressing entertainment report.)  With this display of the dead in action I no longer have to worry about leaving a legacy.  Kill me, peel me and have me doing something cool, like dunking a basketball, for all to see.

Apocalypse

Many people like to look for signs of the end of the world. Maybe it's the war on terror or maybe it's the Friends' spinoff "Joey". Yesterday I thought it was Yanni getting arrested. Today it's David Hasselhoff. But you know whether you're a man or a woman or a wee person, you shouldn't admit getting beaten up by Yanni.

In other news, my friend tells me that he's hiring a 'life coach'. Apparenlty this is all the rage. I picture my high school football coach, Mr. Solie, all short and squatty and ticked off and yelling from the tight confines of his coaching spandex. I don't know why coaches, no matter how rotund, insist on the snug fit. A life coach might demand something more comfortable, maybe a muu-muu, because I'd imagine someone qualified to coach life would be familiar with maximum comfort. Which begs the question, what kind of qualifications are necessary to coach life? Would the best ones take their 'life team' to the March Madnes of living? Would ESPN's news scroll feature the latest life coach's to be fired or promoted. Good assistant life coaches would be picked up by struggling livers, like the Houston Texans. I guess I do have to hand it to Mr. Solie. Aside from often appearing in my nightmares, this shrink-wrapped spandex warrior, who made a living yelling insults at children, taught me a lot about life. For one, you have to have one before it can be coached.

Anyway, back to where we started, which was 'the end'.  Instead of the pick-up line "What's your sign?," I think a more interesting icebreaker is "What's your sign of the apocalypse?"  Perhaps it's cubicles.  Discuss.

Pabst Ribbon Blues

Oddville was great last night.  The crowd was sparse as the roads were so dangerously moistened but those who showed got a great program.  Myself and this hilarious English fellow split the 'best act' winnings.  Which now I regret because before I left the house my wife said 'have fun and be careful!'  That sounds innocent enough but the 'be careful' seemed to tell me that she just assumed I might be engaging in activity more dangerous than stand-up comedy.  I did have fun and as my wife had suggested was very careful.  I took great measure to properly budget my twenty-five dollar winnings.  To do this I consumed one-dollar Pabst Blue Ribbons.  In three hours the money was gone.  Simple math would lead you to one conclusion, I should be dead.  I remember the first eight dollars going for six beers and a two-dollar tip.  I left three more dollars as a tip and spent eight dollars on three shots of Southern Comfort.  So, yes, I am still alive but, as you might imagine, right about now I wouldn't mind the alternative.    With the information I've given you, how many PBR's did I purchase and subsequently--and unfortunately--consume?  The first right answer gets a prize.   Maybe this very cool set of horseshoe hangers. 

And now I must do two things:  sit in my freezing shedio (remember, studio in a shed) and work, and go back downtown and get my car.  I do love the lightrail.    

Today = Bad

First off, the company where I worked just went through a round of layoffs.  I think I was the only one who had to go.  

Then Dana Reeves dies at only 44.  She should be held up as a true hero.  Anyone who takes care of those who need it should get a football player's salary.   And then 45-year-old Kirby Puckett, one of the stars of amazing 1987 and 1991 World Series, keels over from a stroke.  Anyone who has acheived the improbable, making baseball fun to watch, should be missed dearly.  So there's two of the always creepy celebrity triads of death.  Or should this guy count?  And the AP reports that Treasury Secretary John Snow notified Congress on Monday that the administration has now taken "all prudent and legal actions," including tapping certain government retirement funds, to keep from hitting the $8.2 trillion national debt limit.
In a letter to Congress, Snow urged lawmakers to pass a new debt ceiling immediately to avoid the nation's first-ever default on its obligations.   And whatever the heck that means it doesn't sound positive. 

But you know everything is quickly sliding downhill when you read that Yanni got arrested.  That's right, like finding that Richard Simmons is the unabomber, our Master of Muzak, the Magician of Mood has been taken to the tank.   John Tesh is on a 24-hour death watch.

Some of the Dumber Guys in the Room

Today Enron founder, Ken Lay, and CEO, Jeffrey Skilling were finally found guilty of fraud, evasion and a litany of other charges.   Enron money whiz, Lou Pai, might have been included in these hearings if he weren't the genius who left the company early with 270,000,000 dollars and a new stripper wife.  So would have Cliff Baxter but he shot himself shortly after the company's collapse. 

If you haven't seen the Academy Award nominated documentary "Enron:  The Smartest Guys in the Room" then you must.  It's amazing what you can get away with when you have friends in high places.   Former Cali Governor Pete Wilson let Enron deregulate the state's power.  This gave the company the power to turn off the juice thus making electricity a rare commodity therefore raising it's price.  A lot.  Here's a little Enron trader phone conversation about the rolling blackouts in California.  Now let's wax nostalgic...

Enron trader:  "If you took down the steamer, how long would it take to get it back up?"

Cali Power guy: "Oh, it's not something you want to just be turning on and off every hour. Let's put it that way."

Enron trader: "Well, why don't you just go ahead and shut her down."

And here's another Enron trader conversation.  This guy is upset because Washington state and California are trying to recover some of the money lost due to Enron's power manipulation.

Enron trader 1:  "They're f------g taking all the money back from you guys?   All the money you guys stole from those poor grandmothers in California?"

Enron trader 2:  "Yeah, grandma Millie, man"

Enron Trader 1: "Yeah, now she wants her f------g money back for all the power you've charged right up, jammed right up her a------ for f------g $250 a megawatt hour."

And these idiots kept talking AND recording (why do these corporate morons always email and record their nefarious activities?) their hopes for Bush to get elected in 2000.

Enron trader 3: "It'd be great. I'd love to see Ken Lay Secretary of Energy."

Enron trader 4: "When this election comes Bush will f------g whack this s--t, man. He won't play this price-cap b------t."

And they were right...Here's Mr. Bush on May 29, 2001:

"We will not take any action that makes California's problems worse and that's why I oppose price caps."   (the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission is responsible for the stability of the nation's--thus the word 'Federal' in it's title--power supply.  FERC's Chairman Patrick Wood was recommended to Bush by this man!)

Enron's eventual fallout:  20,000 people lost their jobs, around twice that their retirement funds.  America's oldest accounting firm, Arthur Anderson, collapsed sending 30,000 more to unemployment.  Bankers from Merrill Lynch to Citi found themselves in hot water and India now has a huge power facility that's rusting away in the wind. California went way into the hole and decided to go further by ousting Gov. Gray Davis and spending another 50 million on a special election that included candidates Gary Coleman and Arnold Schwarzenegger.  

I found that both CBS and NPR have the actual phone recordings. 

Academy Awards

Jon Stewart, the man who has single-handedly repaired the damage wrought upon Canada by Alanis Morissette, Celine Dion and Paul Schaeffer, began the evening... 

"Tonight is the night we celebrate excellence in films, with me, the fourth male lead in 'Death to Smoochy,"'

This is normally recognized as a major television event.   I'm not sure why then the Roosevelt High School Audio/Visual club got to do the technical production. 

Could someone please destroy the teleprompter.  Or at least make the font bigger or scroll slower or something so the actors can read it.  And maybe--albeit sadly--we must recognize that age also afflicts the really beautiful.   Or maybe Lauren Bacall, like most, could not read the tele-pogo.

 Ewy's First Ever Winner of the "This Hip Hop is Really Popular We Must Find Some Way to Incorporate It" Award goes to "It's Hard Out Here to be a Pimp."   This song is also the Grammy winner of the "Stretch-a-Rhyme" award for forcing 'rent' and 'pimp' on each other.   (But honestly, think of actual 'pimp' rhymes.  They're all negative like limp, shrimp, skimp.  So this is really all they could do.)

And let's hear it for George Clooney.  While "Syriana" will make you want to off yourself for being an accomplice in global tyranny, I'd rather pop a cap in my bean  to end world suffering than because there are no more heroes.   And look who has regrets. 

Hillary Swank wins the "Tall Hotness" award.  You've gotta know that Ralph Macchio is pissed that The Next Karate Kid gets all this attention. 

It's about flippin' time that Phillip Seymour Hoffman wins something for all of his great work!!!!!!! 

Someone should let Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger know that we know they're not really gay so then maybe they'll buy a razor and end the desperate attempts at macho heterosexuality. 

Winner of the "Best Name" award.  Wally Pfister.   

Reese is cute and very talented.  And her speech is second only to Robert Altman's.   But the "Closest to Centenarian but Still Beautiful" Award goes to Dame Judi Dench. 

"Greatest Irony" Award of the night goes to Wyoming.  Their tourism ad featuring the little boy playing cowboy might have tried to overcome some of the Brokeback Effect.  (Most of the real pretty shots were in Canada.)

"Busy Backstage doing Smack" Award goes to Uma Thurman.  She looked like that scary girl from Blade Runner.

The "We Can Read Your Lips Tom Hanks" Award goes to Tom Hanks for clearly mouthing the "F" on his way to announcing Ang Lee as the best director.   I never thought I'd see Tom Hanks angry.  It was disconcerting, like being attacked by a golden retreiver.  You'd never expect it.

 OK, Crash is a great winner.   Just like the one producer said it was a great movie for a "maverick year".  At least that's what she said BEFORE THEY CUT OFF ANOTHER DECENT SPEECH BEFORE IT WAS THIRTY SECONDS INTO IT!  Shouldn't the Best Picture award recipients at least get some extra time?  NO.  They just blared the horns and panned out of the room and into MORE SPOTS!  Bastards.  This is clearly a kneejerk reaction to ramblers of previous years. 

The  "Best Performance by What is Usually an Awkward Moment Featuring an International Superstar Who Apparently Can't Read" Award goes to Lilly Tomlin and Meryl Streep for their great intro piece for Robert Altman.  Tomlin nailed one of the best lines of night saying that while watching an Altman film you'd wonder you were eating popcorn or peyote buttons. 

And thank the Sweet Baby for Jon Stewart.  He was awesome.  As quoted from The Washington Post:

In a pointed barb at another of his favorite usual targets, the news media, Stewart saluted both "Good Night, and Good Luck" and "Capote" as important films about journalism's "relentless pursuit of the truth," adding, "Needless to say, both are period pieces."

Update on Wednesday, March 8, 2006 at 07:25AM by ewy

How did Crash crash the Brokeback Bash?

Here are some statistics and other important sounding reasons. 

Bumbling Fax Boy

When you're doing five-minute sets at Kazmos you're not going to make a whole lot of money doing comedy.  So aside from cutting commercials in my shedio (shed studio) and being a great husband to my gainfully employed wife, I've become an assistant to a real estate agent.  So far I've worked two hours for her.  In that time I've faxed something, picked up two realtor padlock thingys and messed up her expense spreadsheet.  The faxing was not a pretty affair. 

After not knowing how to get the machine to light it's display, I unplugged and plugged back it in.  To this I heard "oh no, don't do that, it'll lose it's memory!"  This was said shortly after it lost it's memory.  And then, trying to forget, I moved forward with the dialing.  I waited.  Nothing happened.  I dialed again.  Waited.  Nothing.  Again.  Nothing.  And then I started to feel as if I needed to move.  I needed to look like there wasn't problem and I knew exactly what I was doing.  I opened a cupboard and grabbed a reem of paper.  I slowly unwrapped it as I anxiously glanced at the display.  Nothing.  I dialed again.  I tried to be as quiet as possible; the unobtrusive aloof guy who needs no one's help to succeed.  And then...a connection.  Sweet!  Faxing is no problem.  That is until the fax machine spoke. 

"Jared," it said. 

You know when your brain can't quite piece the facts together and without sufficient evidence is unable to make a proper judgement?   Yah, well I just stood their, wondering how the fax maching knew my name.  "Jaaaaaaarrrrred" it rolled out in an annoyed tone.   I kind of recognized the voice.  And now everyone I had been trying not to molest with my issues had turned to look at me. 

"Jared, pick up the phone!" yelled the now very irritated Brother Intellifax 5750e.  Everyone laughed.  I did not join them but followed the instructions.  Something I could have used when I first started.  As I put the phone to my ear I finally placed the voice.  "Jared," said Liz the realtor I assist.  Being the new guy I excitedly replied to my boss, "Liz, what are you doing?"   Like I was startled to find her in the fax machine.  She answered,  "I've been trying to work and you've been faxing my cell phone.  Stop it." 

I did.  I moved forward with another number.   I was supposed to await a receipt of proper delivery but didn't want to spend much more time in the vicinity of the fax.  On my way out I found a printout akin to a fax confirmation.  I'm pretty sure it made it.  As long as I dialed right.