What kept me?

Finally got around to watching the movie that's been sitting on top of the TV for months. Easily the saddest comedy out there. Maybe Muriel's Wedding is in the ballpark.



Danny Peary has a book, Alternate Oscars, in which he names his picks for Best Picture, Actor and Actress from 1927 to 1992 or so. For 1960 he selects Psycho over The Apartment. Well, okay, one could make the argument. But his argument is that The Apartment's premise is dated. Psycho, however, is plagued by some horrible psychobabble in the third act. Nearly deflates the greatness that preceded it.

And that's the way it crumbles, cookie-wise.

lunchtime thought(s)

I see that Mike has posted the last of his pop-culture Nobel awards, and gone with my suggestion. I get the idea Mike's not particularly crazy about the selection, but based on the criteria, I'm really hard-pressed to think of a better choice, although perhaps there's a techie out there that deserves consideration (inventor of the Steadicam?). Perhaps Corman himself is not the best filmmaker, but neither is Les Paul the best guitarist. In terms of one living person influencing so many careers, Corman's the man. With a few exceptions, there was one main path to Hollywood success behind the camera, depending on the era. Under the studio system, you signed with a studio. Today, you go to film school. From the mid-to-late fifties to about 1975, you put in some time working for Corman or some of the other cheapies.

Atrios has a good series of posts about The Bell Curve. Moxy Fruvous also summed things up succinctly a few years ago.

no, the other BC

I'm smitten. A little scary on the eye makeup in this photo, but this may be the most consistently attractive sports team I've ever seen.

aaah! My ears!

Last weekend on Wait Wait! Don't Tell Me! Arianna Huffington was asked to name the song distributed to each school in the U.S. in the late 50s/early 60s to promote the new (at the time) President's Council on Physical Fitness. Huffington whiffed the question. I chalked this up to Arianna having spent her youth in Greece and England, but the other panelists seemed to not know about this particular ditty either. "Chicken Fat" was composed by Meredith Willson, writer of my least-favorite musical, and recorded by Prof. Harold Hill himself, Robert Preston. It's horrible; easily at home on another NPR show. The Wait Wait folks couldn't find a (legal) copy to play on the air, but to punish my audience of five, well...here.

aaah! my eyes!



Matt's blog has become wholly unreadable in Netscape (4.7.x). Cyan links, black text, grey background. Ow. On the other hand, Mike just became Netscape-friendly.

Using IE full-time would be a solution if it didn't freeze once a day.

Sign this or we can't be friends any more.

Yes to all three

For how much to grieve, if at all, see Joe

For what NASA should do, see Dwight

For the thing you were thinking but can't admit to, there's Anthony