22 September 2010

Day after day, I will walk, and I will play. But the day after today, I will stop, and I will start the Notes From The News

Hey there internetterazzi! Hope you're well, and if you're not then I hope you will be soon. Lots and lots of stuff to get to today, a lot of it music related for once, which doesn't always happen around here. So you'll excuse me if I leave off the usual pontificating (you there in the back, stop applauding or you'll have to leave), and get right into today's newsnotes:

Jerry Garcia's last home before he died is up for sale. The 11 acre Marin County estate is valued at $4 million dollars, and any leftover pot, acid, coke or heroin you find hidden around the grounds is yours to keep.

Christopher Nolan is considering turning Inception into a video game. But honestly? It needs to be an MMORPG in order to be as truly immersive as the film was. You mustn't be afraid to dream big, darling.

Feist has a documentary film coming out called Look at What the Light Did Now. It's about the recording of and tour for her album The Reminder, and it looks like a slice of pure awesome. Go have a look at the trailer. Unless of course you're not into Feist. In which case I shall never speak to you again.

Jodie Foster says that Mel Gibson's drunken, abusive, racist ass is all right with her. And it will be as long as the recent film they did together hasn't been released and needs to be promoted.

R.E.M. has just finished recording its fifteenth studio album, which will be due out sometime next Spring. You may now commence arguing whether the band started to suck after everyone started to like them, after Bill Berry left them, or after Michael Stipe started enunciating his lyrics better on Lifes Rich Pageant. or you could just, you know, be a fan and actually buy the fucking thing. *shakes head* God damn internet.

Good news: Boardwalk Empire has been renewed by HBO for a second season. Bad news: this means we will doubtless be subjected to more horrifyingly graphic images of Prohibition-era violence, crime, and Steve Buscemi having sex. *shudder*

Pee-wee Herman has a blog on Huffington Post, and in it he recaps the first episode of the new season of Dancing With the Stars, and it is absolutely fucking hysterical. (Full disclosure: my wife is addicted to that show, and was quite put out when our two-year-old pitched a fit and wouldn't let her change the channel to watch it on Monday. I think I may need to put a TiVo on the Christmas list.)

Wyclef Jean is announcing that he's bowing out of his bid for the Hatian presidency -- just weeks after being forcibly booted from his bid for the Hatiian presidency. Surely the fact that Clef has a new album coming out had absolutely nothing to do with any of this. Surely not, no!

Geektastic news of the day: Legendary Pictures is planning a new Godzilla movie that will apparently pay homage to the originals and avoid the lame-o-riffic ideas that turned the Roland Emmerich version into an unbelievable shitstorm of, well, shit. So far Producer Brian Rodgers is saying the appropriate things, and it sounds like a good idea -- if you can ignore the fact that the film's Godzilla is going to be CGI. And the movie itself will be in 3D . . . so, wait. They're avoiding the sucktastic decisions how, again? (Link contains bonus killer promo art)

Li'l Bow Wow, dept.: 50 Cent has started a Twitter account for Oprah Winfrey. But Jay, I hear you ask, doesn't Oprah Winfrey already have a Twitter account? At which point I tell you that the Oprah Winfrey in this case is Fitty's dog, and your brain goes kerfliffle out your ears.

And finally: Some of the cast of The Breakfast Club reunited to celebrate the *gulp* 25th anniversary of the film, and holy shit I think I just aged about that many years thinking about how old I was when I saw it in the theater. Notably absent from the reunion were Paul Gleason, who is dead, and Emilio Estevez, who is somewhere in a distant land searching for the tattered remnants of his lost career, cursing Charlie Sheen in a cracked, half-mad voice, and wondering why the Mighty Ducks producers won't return his fucking calls any more, the ungrateful pricks.

And that's it from me. Remember to keep smiling, keep well, and keep on telling it like it is . . .


. . . no matter what you happen to be doing.

Laters, skaters!

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