29 October 2010

Out from his coffin, Drac's voice did ring; seems he was troubled by just one thing. He opened the lid and shook his fist, and said, "Whatever happened to my Notes From The News?"

Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends, we're so glad you could attend, BUT YOU WILL BLOW ME FIRST ARGHH:SRLGRJGJCMIUGU WERIOG++++++++++++++++

. . . Sorry. Guest blogger Mel Gibson got a little out of hand there. He's moved on to playing with the fingerpaints and an attendant will be along shortly to sedate him with horse tranquilizers. And by him I mean me. And by horse tranquilizers I mean scotch. But before the scotch must come the news. Or maybe during. Anyway, on to the bumpers:

Nic Cage watch (sort of): So the sequel to Ghost Rider has been approved -- god knows why, as it didn't even have the saving grace of a mind-warpingly insane Cage performance. But Nic is coming back to give the role another go, and the good news is that the director of the first film won't be returning. The bad news is that the budget has been cut almost in half. (Actually, the good news is that there's no way on earth the sequel can be anywhere near as bad as the first film, but we're not telling Cage that.)

Just in time for Halloween, I bring you some ghosts from the past: A previously unreleased duet between Johnny Cash, who is dead, and Ray Charles, who is also dead, has surfaced. In it the pair perform a version of "Why Me Lord?" by Kris Kristofferson, who is not dead but frequently seems like he ought to be at this point.

Mike & Molly creator Mark Roberts is pissed off at Marie Claire blogger Maura Kelley's frankly childish and peurile attack piece on his show, where she basically says that anyone who weighs more than what Kelley finds aesthetically pleasing is gross and bad and they should feel bad for insisting they are human beings with human thoughts and emotions and desires. Roberts responded to that with reasonable good humor and a certain degree of poorly masked ire. My own take is that Kelley is a shallow twit and that Roberts' show is painfully unfunny and, in spite of his insistence that it promotes positive body images, trades on fat jokes that are every bit as childish and puerile as Kelley's blog post. So how about we lock both of them in a room instead? Preferably with a starving pack of hyenas?

I don't want to go on the cart, dept.: Actress and Oscar winning producer Lisa Blount was found dead in her home in Arkansas on Wednesday. A cause of death was not readily apparent. Blount, who was 53 when she died, first rose to prominence in the role of Lynette in An Officer and a Gentleman, and made a string of appearances in films and TV shows before pursuing a career as a producer. She won the Academy Award for one of her short films in 2002. Our condolences go out to Blount's husband Ray McKinnon and to her family.

An upcoming book from Bill Carter details the gigantic mountain of stupidity involved in the Conan O'Brien/Jay Leno . . . well, stupidity . . . that happened at NBC. Vanity Fair has an excerpt, and it is unbelievably shitballs awesome. It also shows that Jay Leno was far less deserving of blame in this than were the utterly clueless asswipes in suits at NBC who jerked Conan and Leno around like twenty dollar whores giving bad handjobs. If the rest of the book is this good, sign me up for a copy.

CBS has picked up a "family comedy" starring Rob Schneider, apparently based on Schneider's life, which one can only assume is far more hilariously, side-splittingly funny than any of Schneider's utterly dire movies. Hopefully at some point they'll do an episode about the time Roger Ebert called ol' Rob out in a review and basically told him point blank (though more politely than I'm about to) that his movies suck sulphurous eggs through a syphilitic monkey's dick. That would be something I'd watch.

In the spirit of Halloween, Pajiba presents a list of the greatest horror films to emerge from America's hat.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • The nation of Peru -- THE ENTIRE NATION OF PERU -- is pissed off over a joke about them made by Sofia Vergara in a recent episode of ABC's Modern Family. In other news, the nation of Peru -- THE ENTIRE NATION OF PERU -- is full of humorless dickwhistles unable to separate reality from fantasy. 
  • The "stars" of MTV reality series Teen Mom make between $60-$65k per season. That's a little over the average American annual household income, and it's essentially a reward for being too fucking stupid to use a condom. Somewhere, the Founding Fathers are laughing their asses off at us. It only looks like they're crying.
  • Apparently Kelsey Grammer is such a total asswipe he couldn't even tell his wife he was leaving her for a younger woman; she had to find out from a friend. Glad to see Kelsey standing up for family values there. 
Scienctists in the process of unraveling Ozzy Osbourne's genes in a bid to determine why the Oz is, in Sean O'Neil's memorable phrase, "a recreaational drug Weeble," have determined that Ozzy is descended at least in part from Neanderthals. Which might explain his propensity for eating doves and bats, but it still doesn't explain why Ozzy is still standing after ingesting entire pharmaceutical warehouses.

Speaking of which: Details of Charlie Sheen's drug and booze fueled meltdown are emerging, and whoooooooooooooo boy, they ain't pretty. Unless you think the mental image of Sheen naked in a restaurant bathroom with cocaine smeared all over his face is pretty. In which case you may need more help than Charlie does. And Charlie apparently punches walls with his wang hanging out while shouting "N*GGER!", so that should tell you how much help you need right there.

And that's all the treats I can trick you with today. have a good Halloween weekend, and I'll see you back here on Monday. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we dance:


28 October 2010

When I get older I will be stronger; they'll call me Freedom, just like the Notes From The News.

Afternoon, all. Hope your day is treating you well. Mine is, and I have some very special news, but that'll have to wait until the end of today's post. Because not only am I a master of suspense, I also . . . eh, I'll tell you that later too. (Muaahahahaha.) In any event, here's some bumpers to bump you:

The badly named channel with the stupid movies -- no, the other one -- has decided that Caprica is not all that great after all, despite the obvious benefits of having Eric Stoltz as the star. This is good because you know Eric can be replaced with Michael J. Fox and everything will instantly get better. Despite this they have said that the first season of the show will also be its last, and that they will instead focus their efforts and their money on the Blood and Chrome version of the show, which takes place during the Cylon Wars and might actually be vaguely interesting. Of course, given the average SyFy budget, "interesting" in this case will mean that the Cylons are actually an unholy hybrid product of the mating between a polar bear and a Cadillac.

Entertainment Weekly is offering readers a first look at Chris Evans in his full Captain America togs, and based on the cover image in the link, I think I can safely say that the look of the character, at least, will not be a problem. Though Evans seems to have stolen Tom Hardy's lips.

So the new Mission Impossible sequel -- which producer, lead actor, and Grand High Poobah of  Wackaloon Tom Cruise insists is not a sequel, despite all direct evidence to the contrary -- has been given a new title. It will now be called Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. Which would be fine so long as anyone actually knew what the frig a ghost protocol even is. Is that where you pass on the left even though you could just float right through because you're a ghost? I am confused. I'm betting I'll be even more confused after seeing the movie.

HBO has announced that the upcoming fifth season of the polygamist drama Big Love will be its last, so Chloe Seveigny will have to find something else to bitch about. [Insert Brown Bunny joke here.] 

I don't want to go on the cart, dept.: James MacArthur, better known to TV Land officianados and old people like me as Danny "Danno" Williams in the original Hawaii Five-0, died this morning at the age of 72. No cause of death was given, but we're pretty sure being 72 had at least a little something to do with it. MacArthur was fondly remembered by those who worked with him and never seemed to mind that he was best remembered as the subject of Jack Lord's immortal line, "Book 'em, Danno," rather than for any of the work he did on eleven of the show's twelve seasons. Godspeed, James. Hope Jack's waiting for you at the pearly gates with a couple of beers.

Devo has been forced to cancel its American tour after guitarist Ben Mothersbaugh injured his hand so seriously that his thumb was sliced open to the bone and a tendon was severed. Mothersbaugh will fully recover and the band will reschedule the dates, but in the meantime millions -- well, thousands -- well, hundre -- well, several Devo fans are going to be living in disappointment as well as in DEVOlution. (I kid, Devo fans, I kid. I know there are a lot of you. I just don't know why.) (Again, kidding. Here's hoping Ben has a speedy recovery.)

Sign of a desperate entertainment news blogger, dept.: Oprah Winfrey says that nobody will be allowed to use the word "bitch" on her new network. This means that Laid Back will never be able to perform "White Horse" on any of the shows there. Why does Oprah hate Laid Back? WHY, I ASK YOU?

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Billy Ray Cyrus, one hit wonder, father of burgeoning pop slut Miley and least believable doctor in the history of bad television shows, is divorcing his wife Tish. Apparently Tish stopped speaking French to him. 
  • Turns out the frightened naked chick hiding in the closet of Charlie Sheen's hotel room the other night when he ad his coke-and-booze-fueled meltdown/redecorating party is upset people think she's a hooker. She wants it made perfectly clear that she isn't a prostitute -- she's a porn star. Well, that changes everything.   
  • David Arquette says he cried the first time he slept with someone besides his wife Courteney Cox Arquette. Which is a switch, as usually the women David sleeps with are the ones who cry when they wake up in the morning, see his face, the drugs wear off and they remember what happened
James Bond's Aston Martin DB5 from the film Goldfinger was sold at auction yesterday for $4 million to some dude with entirely too much disposable income and, no doubt, dreams of smoking Turkish cigarettes and drinking vodka martinis while shooting out the window at agents of SPECTRE and driving with his butt cheeks.

And finally: Mariah Carey is officially pregnant, so we can now officially move her out of the "Who gives a fuck" section and into the main portion of the column, where I will toss vaguely related pop culture references at her for a cheap laugh. Congratulations Mariah, and don't let the kid see Glitter until he or she is old enough to realize how utterly fucked up stupid it is. (See how that works?) 

And that's the Newsnotes. And, as it turns out, my bit of news dovetails nicely with Mariah's. My wife went to get her next ultrasound today, and we found out (SPOLIER ALERT) that we're expecting a little girl sometime around March 19 of next year. 

Well, thanks. I think so too. 

Later folks!

27 October 2010

I'll be the roundabout, the words will make you The Notes From The News

Howdy gang! Been kind of a slow one but I've finally collected enough silly stories in my sarcastic basket to -- wait, what the hell did I just write? I either need to start drinking more coffee or less coffee. Or maybe I just need to start drinking more scotch. I like that idea. Anyway, here's some news to cure your blues:

The New Zealand government has crawled so far up Peter Jackson's ass that they can see his esophagus, in what looks like a successful effort to keep The Hobbit production filming in the country. I don't have space to list everything they're doing here, but suffice it to say that Jackson and Warner Bros. are essentially going to be shitting money for years to come. And the people who are doing all the hard work to make sure this money gets made will receive, basically, shit. See, I told you Peter Jackson was kind of a douche.

In case you were wondering what the five worst TV shows of the new season were, wonder no more. Pajiba has a list. And I defy you to argue with it. Actually I just defy you in general; it's been that kind of day.

Bruce "The Human Chin" Campbell is demonstrably excellent towards all his fans, but this weekend at Zombicon he will be going above and beyond the call of duty -- and of Cthulhu -- by serving as the minister in a zombie themed wedding. Bonus: Ted "Joxur" Raimi will be an altar boy. The only way this could be any more awesome is if I had Lucy Lawless in my lap while I was typing this -- and since my wife might object to that strenuously with sharp implements, Bruce and Ted are about as awesome as things are gonna get.

Janet Jackson went on ABC News to talk about her new book and her ongoing body image issues, which date back to the 1970s when she was a semi-regular on Good Times and the producers made the wardrobe department tape her breasts down because she was too well developed. [Insert Justin Timberlake/Super Bowl joke here]

A tale told by an idiot, dept.: Four words: Rob Liefeld's Zombie Jesus. Which is every bit as godawful moronic shitballs crazy stoopid as you might imagine.

James Cameron is so full of good ideas that he's going to do two more Avatar movies. Translation: James Cameron has found two more semi-obscure science fiction novels he can cross with over-used script ideas in order to make more poorly written, over-hyped crapola you will pay a shitload of money to see because OMG PRETTY SHINY THING..

For the film is hollow, and I have touched this guy, dept.: The rumor mill is starting to ramp up around the next Star Trek film, which will be either Star Trek 2 or Star Trek XII, depending how you number it. Either way the "villain" will not be Khan, despite the masturbatory wish-fulfillment insistences of a bunch of annoying Trekkies who don't seem to understand that that part of the well has been sucked dry like Daniel Day Lewis drinking your fucking milkshake. Instead, according to scuttlebutt -- or someone's butt, anyway -- the villain is not going to be your standard model villain at all, though it will possibly be a recognizable character from the original series. Check the link for all sorts of mad speculations and givings of odds and other such fanboyish gushings. And then you may want to wipe off your keyboard. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Conan O'Brien wants his Masturbating Bear and no amount of legal intimidation will stop him. Unless, you know, it's a team of Masturbating Bear lawyers, in which case there might be a problem. 
  • Twin brother Irish music thingy Jedward is all butthurt because apparently they are experiencing ongoing harassment by security agents at Heathrow airport. And the fact that I'm reporting this tells you exactly how desperate I am to fill some space today.  
  • GK films wants desperately to expand Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video into a feature length film. If this is successful maybe they could branch out and make a Lady Gaga video that doesn't make you want to tear your own eyes out and stomp them into jam. 
When the whip comes down, dept.: Disney is so horrified by admissions of drug use in Kieth Richards' autobiography that the studio is considering cutting his role from the new Pirates of the Caribbean sequel. In other news, Disney is apparently located in some remote corner of Pago pago's left asshole where there are no telephones, newspapers, internet, TV shows, or films, and thus was ignorant of Keef's life before now. (Actually, it turns out that this is a rumor that has since been discredited, but I was really proud of the "Pago Pago's left asshole" bit so I'm keeping it in.) 

And finally: Christopher Nolan has revealed the title of the next Batman film: The Dark Knight Rises. That's what she said. 

And that's all she wrote for this edition. Now, we present to you a couple of real swingers:

. . .  they've been doing that for eight days now. Nobody knows how to stop them. But everyone wishes someone did. 

Bye for now!

26 October 2010

Sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong; my own beliefs are in my Notes From The News

Eh up! Welcome, welcome one and all to the onanism festival blog post. Hope you're all having a good day. I've had better ones myself, but I've also had worse ones so I can't complain. Much. But whether I'm bitching or not bitching I'm always bitchy. So without further ado, here now the Newsnotes:

Charlie Sheen the keen mean drinkin' machine is back to his old routine. Police were called to his New York hotel room last night after an extremely loaded and completely starkers Charlie trashed his hotel room. Apparently Mr. Sheen, who was in town with ex-wife Denise Richards and their children, had been partying with an unidentified woman and went nutsoroonie when hie couldn't find his wallet. (Which is understandable as he was naked and was probably desperate to buy himself some clothes.) Richards, who has earned herself this week's Patience Of A Saint award, accompanied Charlie to New York Hospital; he was expected to trash his room there as well.

The Hobbit Cast Death Watch Update: Sylvester McCoy, who once upon a time was the highly underrated Seventh Doctor on Doctor Who and did a bangup job as The Fool opposite Ian McKellen in Trevor Nunn's production of King Lear, has been cast as the wizard Radagast The Brown, a part barely alluded to in Tolkien's novel. Sadly we will now have to add his name to the ever growing list of actors whose lives will be claimed when Peter Jackson's eternally trouble-plagued production finally collapses in on itself and lays waste to everything within a fifty mile radius

Rumors are circulating that George Lucas may possibly kinda sorta perhaps tentatively thinking about producing some Star Wars sequels. Or not. I don't really care, I'm just linking to this because of the utterly god damn awesome photo in the article.

I don't want to go on the cart, dept. (Part One): Leo Cullum, one of The New Yorker's most popular cartoonists, has passed away after a long battle with cancer. Leo was 68 years old. His funeral is expected to be a small, quiet affair in which attendees will speak entirely in inscrutable bon mots that are only tangentially connected with what is going on.

There was a tiger attack at Russel Brand and Katy Perry's wedding this past weekend. Details are scant, but apparently the tiger was offended by two white-bread Westerners co-opting the Hindu religion for the sake of a drunken party. The tiger may or may not have dashed its brains out against a rock when Katy tried to calm it down by singing it a song. 

More news on the not at ALL a poorly thought out idea Top Gun sequel: director Tony Scott says the movie will not be about hot shot Navy pilots at all, but instead about the computer geeks who have apparently taken their place in Scott's fevered imagination. "These computer geeks -- these kids play war games in a trailer in Fallon, Nevada and if we ever went to war or were in the Middle East or the Far East or wherever it is, these guys can actually fly drones." HIIIIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHH-WAAAYYYYY TOOOOOOO THE RESPAWN POINT!

Bieber. Hair. Glitter. Movie. 3-D. Apocalypse? Yes.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Mariah Carey may or may not be pregnant with a baby boy, which she may or may not have taken fertility drugs to help her conceive, which may or may not have caused her to gain weight earlier this year, and I may or may not give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. 
  • Warner Bros. is developing a live action/CGI combo movie called Acme, set in the titular warehouse where the Loooney Tunes characters get all their wonderful toys. Except it won't be featuring any of the Looney Tunes characters. Why? Because Warner Bros. is collectively FUCKED IN THE HEAD. 
  • Mark Wahlberg will be starring in a buddy comedy called Ted; the twist in this case is that the buddy in question is a hard partying life-sized teddy bear voiced by Seth MacFarlane. This is a concept so high it has dreadlocks and thinks Haile Selassie is God. 

I don't want to go on the cart, dept. (Part Two): Alex Anderson, the unsung creator of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Dudley Do-Right, died this week at the age of 90, after a long battle with Alzheimer's. What will become of our stalwart moose and squirrel? Will Fearless Leader and his minions triumph at long last over our intrepid heroes? Tune in again for our next episode: As If Things Weren't Badenov, or: Boris Despite Her!

. . . And when you make a pun that terrible it's probably a good idea to go. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we go for a spin:

Bye now!

25 October 2010

I woke up in a Soho doorway, a policeman knew my Notes From The News

Greetings, one and all -- hope your weekend was good to you and that your Monday wasn't too bad. I'm still battling the bronchitis, though I feel immeasurably better today than I did this time last week. Hopefully by the time I run through the antibiotics I'll be back to my usual self. In the meantime you're stuck with my unusual self and the usual Newsnotes:

Mel Gibson is reportedly furious, FURIOUS do you hear, that the producers of The Hangover 2 would so casually kick him to the curb just because nobody wanted to work with his racist, abusive, crazy ass. He points out that Mike Tyson, who abused drugs and is a convicted rapist, made a similar cameo in the first movie and nobody batted an eye. Nobody has figured out yet how to explain to Mel that that's because Tyson has actually been contrite and regretful about his actions, while Mel is still just an abusive asshole who blames everyone else for his problems . . . but they will blow him first.

Kanye West: still an utter and complete douchebag.

The network with the stupid name -- no, the other one -- no, the next one -- has ordered a new Battlestar Galactica series, dealing with a young Bill Adama's early days aboard the Galactica during the Cylon Wars, before something horrible happened to his face and turned him into Edward James Olmos. After all, what's one more trip to a rapidly drying up well between friends, right?

Matt Parker and Trey Stone are apologizing for ripping off the website College Humor for South Park's Inception parody Now all we need to do is find out that College Humor ripped off Ebaum's and we'll understand that this is all just a dream. BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMM

Armond White: still an utter and complete douchebag.

Underaged raccoon-eyed nitwit -- excuse me, Taylor Momsen -- decided it would be a good idea to flash her seventeen year old titties at a show last week, thereby implicating everyone at the show as an accessory to statutory rape under the law and earning herself a charge of public indecency. Or at least it would have if she'd been anyone but a semi-hot little rich girl who fails to see the consequences of her actions. Glad her parents are doing such a good job with her.

The Beastie Boys have finally announced that their new album, Hot Sauce Committee Part 1, which was due out last fall, and then delayed due to MCA's cancer treatment and subsequent recover, will now be out this coming spring. And it will not be titled Hot Sauce Committee Part 1, it will be titled Hot Sauce Committee Part 2. This is because the Beasties sat down and re-sequenced both albums, and found that Hot Sauce Committee Part 2 worked better as Hot Sauce Committee Part 1, and Hot Sauce Committee Part 1 worked better as  Hot Sauce Committee Part 2 and aside from that nothing has changed except that now I feel vaguely dizzy and need to go lie down.
Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Taylor Swift may be dating Jake Gyllenhaal. The two were seen holding hands in Brooklyn over the weekend -- until Kanye West ran up, shoved Taylor out of the way and started dry-humping Jake and shouting incoherently. 
  • Jack Black is producing an adaptation of the book How to Survive a Robot Apocalypse, which is surely a sign that robot apocalypses (apocalypsi?) have not only been done to death, they aren't even funny any more. 
  • CBS is developing a reality show in which attention whores -- um, sorry, famous people -- take the places of people who share their names, and try to pass themselves off as "normal," only to (presumably) ejaculate all over themselves when it's revealed who they really are. I would like to suggest Hulk Hogan, Pat Smear, and Lady Gaga as contestants. 

Uwe Boll: still an utter and complete douchebag

Nine Inch Nails' seminal album Pretty Hate Machine will be digitally re-mastered and re-released in a deluxe edition with a bonus track, which is great news for the couple of hundred people who still think that Nine Inch Nails is cool. 

Congratulations are due to Matt Damon and his wife Luciana on the birth of their daughter, Stella Zavala. Word is that Stella has already taken after her Jason Bourne playing dad and killed three male nurses with the nipple of her bottle.

Randy Quaid: still utterly and completely out of his everfucking mind. 

And that's it for this edition of the Notes From The News. Be back tomorrow when i will bring you more of the funky freaky foibles of the fulsomely famous fools you love to laugh at. Until then, it's time for us to fly:

Later, gators!

22 October 2010

Well let your river roll away down in your soul, never to grow old on the Notes From The News

Hey hey, holy mackerel, no doubt about it, Friday is here and the weekend is near, and it can't come soon enough for me. Been a hell of a week, full of bronchitis and a wife with food poisoning and a son with a cold and antibiotics which are making my life interesting, not to mention my digestive system. But before we get into TMI territory, here's some newsnotes for ya:

Reports of my bowdlerizing have been greatly exaggerated, dept.: Despite earlier reports that the potential new Hellraiser movie will be PG-13 and has jettisoned original Pinhead Doug Bradley in favor of a newer, more emo-looking actor named Stephan Smith Collins who looks not at all formidable in the makeup, it turns out that none of this is necessarily correct. Apparently Collins was intended to star in a direct to DVD sequel which Dimension Films has now scrapped (I guess?) in favor of a cinematic reboot, and that it's intended to have a more "adult" script. Aaaaaaand Doug Bradley is not necessarily out of the running. Except this is still all unconfirmed until it actually happens. No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering. 

Conan O'Brien is stepping up the hijinx on the road to his TBS premiere: he set up a webcam in the writing room, and the result was . . . bears in spandex doing aerobics. Because what else would you do with a webcam in the room, seriously? Well, I mean besides set up a paywall and charge by the hour. Presumably Team Coco will do that when Masturbating Bear gets back from its vacation. 

You may or may not be familiar with Ron Shelton. Shelton has directed sports related films like Tin Cup, White Men Can't Jump, and the classic Bull Durham, which is based on Shelton's days playing minor league baseball. Well, sounds like Shelton is returning to that well for the upcoming TBS series Hound Dogs, which he's just been inked to produce. It's a comedy/drama (aren't they all) dealing with the travails of a minor league ballclub. Good luck to Shelton and TBS; hope the ratings keep your show shagging fungoes for a while to come.

The fact that I am reporting this should tell you what a slow day it is, dept.: Lindsay Lohan was back in court today and has been ordered to return to rehab until January 3, 2011. This will ensure that anybody who had her in the death pool before then is shit out of luck. Keep dodging the reaper, Lindsay. 

Congratulations Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage, Aidan Turner, Rob Kazinsky, Graham McTavish, John Callen, Stephen Hunter, Mark Hadlow, Peter Hambleton, and (presumably) Andy Serkis and Ian McKellen. You've all been selected to appear in Peter Jackson's two-part adaptation of The Hobbit, which Jackson is not at all doing to get back some of his box office mojo after King Kong and The Lovely Bones turned out to be gigantic balls of meh. Don't worry! The production is not at all troubled and is not being financed by a studio that's in the middle of going bankrupt, and there have been no labor troubles that have led Jackson to move the filming out of New Zealand. Nor is there any worry that he will have to scout a new location and re-do almost all of his pre-production work, which originally took more than a year, with only four months left until principal photography begins. Nope, none of this is happening at all. But I would run very fast if i were you, just the same.

Breakfast at the Tiffany network, dept.: CBS has said it will renew all of its first season shows for next season, even the poorly received ones like $#*! My Dad Says and The Defenders. Either the network is extremely confident in its lineup, they have no slate of new shows to replace anything that they tank, or they're just smoking the best goddamn weed in the universe and think Jim Belushi and Bill Shatner are utterly fucking hysterical.

Easily the highlight of the Night of Too Many Stars benefit show for autism research was Chris Rock's segment, in which he auctioned off his services to call someone's ex and read them the riot act as only Chris Rock can. The winning bidder, who must consider the $20K she ponied up the best money she ever spent on a charitable endeavor, got to hear Rock call her ex boyfriend and let him have it with both barrels. Bonus: the guy is (or maybe was, now) a huge Chris Rock fan. That's how you raise money, bitches.

Things that make you go hmmmm, dept.: Colin Farrell is the favorite to star in the thoroughly unnecessary remake of Total Recall, with Tom Hardy and Michael Fassbender close behind him. Why anyone thinks that this needs to be done is as much of a mystery as where Arnold got that fake head in the original movie.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Mel Gibson's "comeback" cameo in The Hangover 2 has been scuttled, because durr hey, a lot of people in the film industry suddenly and mysteriously no longer want to work with him. I can't imagine why. 
  • Jersey Shore Oompa-Loompa Snooki says she hasn't had sex in three months. This is actually heartening in that there seems to be a finite number of morons who would sleep with her. I have renewed hope for the future. 
  • Katy Perry and Russell Brand will join together in their sure-to-last-forever (or until a year from now, whichever comes first) wedded bliss during a six day long celebration in India, where they will be married in a traditional Hindu ceremony -- even though neither one of them is Hindu. Somewhere Mohandas K. Gandhi is either smiling benevolently or is seriously pissed the fuck off. 

The poor boy changes clothes and puts on aftershave, dept.: Kanye West went on Ellen the other day to pretend he's all contrite and humble about the Taylor Swift nonsense. How do we know this? Apparently because he has had a dentist extract his bottom teeth and replace them with diamonds. I just . . . I mean . . . holy fuck. I don't want to go off on a rant here, but what the FUCK is WRONG with your stupid god damn ass, Kanye? People in this country are worried about putting food on the table and you're shoving precious stones into your jaw to show the world . . . what, exactly? How it's possible for a douchebag to have too much money and no fucking common sense? How even a fool and his money can get a table at the best restaurant in town? How drinking a bottle of cheap cognac every day makes you act like a fucking moron? Un-im-fucking-pressed am I. I see homeless crazy people on the street every day that are more sensible than you and your fucked up attention whoring life. Tell you what, Mr. West: GO FUCK YOURSELF. IN THE ASS. WITH A BIG RUBBER DICK. You want to show people how fucking humble you are, invest in some businesses in some poor urban neighborhoods and CREATE SOME FUCKING JOBS instead of mutilating your lower jaw just so people will look at your fucking freakshow ass. That's what would impress me. Do some actual good for people instead of expecting everyone to want to fall on their knees and suck your dick because you look like a blinged out freak from a Busta Rhymes video (and incidentally, Busta is a thousand times the rapper you will ever be, you no-talent twat-waffle). That would impress me. Until then you're just another sucka MC trying too hard to make people think you're a lot more than you are -- which is a step above the shit I wiped off my shoe yesterday. In short: you suck, 'Ye. You suck the ass of creation.
Fuck you.

Whoo. I feel better now. And sorry to leave you on that note, but now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we SPAZ THE FUCK OUT:

Have a good weekend!

21 October 2010

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told, I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of Notes From The News

Hi all. A quick note: If you're wondering whether I'm going to mention Bob Guccione's death today -- well, I just did.

Told you it was quick. Here now the News:

Actress Kim Novak, who put in remarkable star turns in classic movies like Bell, Book and Candle, The Man With the Golden Arm, and especially  Hitchock's masterpiece Vertigo, has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Fortunately the treatment will be minimal as the cancer was caught early and Novak is sid to be in great shape otherwise. Here's to a speedy recovery to one of the most unique actresses ever to grace the silver screen.

Destiny's child, dept.: Rumors are flying all over the interwebbery today that Beyonce Knowles is pregnant with Jay-Z's single letter last named offspring. The wrinkle: Beyonce's mom says it isn't true and that if it was true, she would know. Which makes sense -- except that my wife and I kept her first pregnancy secret from her mom for months so we could surprise her on Easter. So until Beyonce or Jay-Z refute the rumor, it's still in play.

So the sequel comic to Kick-Ass is out today, and it doesn't sound at all like Mark Millar is wasting our time and John Romita, Jr.'s talent on making a load of foul-mouthed, hyperviolent shit and calling it a "realistic, post-modern" take on superheroes, when in reality the only thing that separates it from Frank Miller's recent work is that Miller at least has the saving grace of being unintentionally hilarious.

I don't want to go on the cart, dept.: Ari Up, lead singer for seminal Brit-punk band The Slits, died yesterday at the age of 48. The news came from Ari's family and was announced on her stepfather John (Johnny Rotten) Lydon's website last night. Our condolences to the family and to Ari's bandmates.

Pajiba reviewed one of those full-of-woo "documentaries" about the Mayan calendar "prophecy" (which is a load of bullshit) featuring the terminally-cute Ellen Page at one point talking about how traumatic it was to be nominated for an Oscar (which is an even bigger load of bullshit) and seems to center on author Daniel Pinchbeck explaining how using psychotropic drugs is the only way we will ever make our lives better and survive the coming change in 2012 (which is such a gigantic steaming load of bullshit that you could fertilize every farm in the world with it and still have enough left over for three presidential elections). Second best part: Reviewer Brian Prisco calling Pinchbeck a "sanctimonious fuckknob." Best part: Pinchbeck himself actually posting in the comments to whine about how unfair the whole thing was because this movie was a LABOR, a labor of LOVE, don't you plebians understand -- and actually coming across like the sanctimonious fuckknob Prisco said he was.

 Sam Raimi is just fucking with us, dept.: The director has now acquired the rights to the classic John Wyndham S-F story Day of the Triffids, and says he wants to direct it . . . along with the umpty-leven bajillion other projects he has in the works, and the ten new things his wandering eye is going to compel him to buy the rights to tomorrow. I swear, Raimi is a cross between a pack rat and a magpie.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Harmony Korine's film distributor Drag City is complaining that Netflix won't stock Korine's latest shit-show Trash Humpers, even though his other films cross more lines than this one. This ignores the fact that Trash Humpers is an even bigger fest of suck than any of Korine's other movies. 
  • The Parents' Television Council has gone (predictably) batshit insane over the naughty naughty sexy sexy GQ photo-shoot of the cast members of Glee, calling it child pornography -- even though every single member of the cast in the photos is over the age of twenty. PTC, I'd like you to meet a little something called reality. Get to know it a while, you might come to like it. 
  • Ron Howard and Will Smith are taking time off from being mediocre filmmakers to remake 1970 cult S-F film Colossus: The Forbin Project. Which would be an interesting notion if someone talented were actually involved with it. No luck there so far.  

Nic Cage watch: Jor-El was in Vienna this week in his capacity as UN Goodwill Ambassador, and he used his bully pulpit to personally declare war on organized crime (like you do), and brought his war home by reading an account of a boy who was forced (by organized crime, durr hey) to eat his 15 year old brother alive. Which is only half as implausible as most of Cage's script selections.

M. Night Shyamalostinthesupermarket is reportedly set to collaborate (but not stop and listen) with Will Smiths' male mini-me Jayden on a super-duper chocolate fudgey tip top whamadoodle secret science-y fiction-y movie-y project called, for some reason, One Thousand A. E. About which the only promising thing that can be said (because it's the only thing anyone really knows) is that M. Night isn't writing it. So it has a chance of actually being watchable.

And that's the knock-down drag-out, bare-knuckle news. Hoppe you enjoyed. I'd like to stay but now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we must stache:

Later on!

20 October 2010

Future's made of virtual insanity, now always seem to be governed by the Notes From The News

Hey internetters -- it's been a long, long, trying god damn day, and I'm in a particularly bitchy mood, as you may be able to tell from the following:

Zach Galifianakinakinakinakinakinakinakalakalakalakalis is pissed off about some movie he's filming that might or might not be The Hangover 2. It's hard to tell because ol' Zach is being very passive aggressive about the whole thing and dropping hints about being in "deep protest" about "something," but never saying exactly what. Which is the mark of a narcissistic douchebag with an agenda if I've ever seen one. Maybe if Zach would stop playing junior high school whispering games and man the fuck up, he could stop making godawful-looking shite like Due Date. (And yes, I realize I mentioned him in a positive light last week. That does not preclude me being ill-disposed toward his assholery this week.)

Conan O'Brien has done away with the Max Weinberg 7 in the wake of Max Weinberg's departure (gee, imagine that!), aside from keeping a few of the band members such as LaBamba. In its place will be -- and here we would have a drumroll but Max Weinberg is no longer around to provide one -- Jimmy Vivino and the Basic Cable Band. Woo, ROCK AND ROLL BABEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEE! *holds up lighter*

What is this I don't even, dept.: The remake of The Crow that's being directed by Blade's Stephen Norrington and written by rocker Nick Cave (yeah, for real) has found a lead actor. The part has been offered to none other than . . . Mark Wahlberg. Which I could totally see him doing becauWHHAAAAAAAAAAAT?! *head goes asplodey* 

Adrien Brody is suing the producers of Giallo, a Dario Argento movie he acted in (and which is terrible according to the buzz surrounding it), because he was never paid his salary. What seems to have happened is that Brody's pay or play contract called for him to be paid $640,000, only to find out that the film was under-funded. he tried to walk, but the producers suckered him back in by promising they would get additonal funding, and talked him into deferring his salary in exchange for the right to withhold consent to any use of his likeness in connection with the film, up to and including its distribution. Well, guess who was lied to and whose mug is all over the copies of DVDs about to be sold on Amazon? Yeah. Brody is suing for his original salary, another two million for various breaches of contract, and to get the back the merchandising rights to his monstrous eyebrows. 

Hugh Jackman said in a recent interview with Vulture that the potential Darren Aronofsky-directed Wolverine sequel will be "out of the box" and will give you "something to think about." Hopefully unlike the first one, it will make you think about something other than demanding your money back.

Peter Jackson is preparing to take The Hobbit out of New Zealand because he's a gigantic jerkface who doesn't like the collective bargaining process or paying people what they're worth. Next up: Peter Jackson runs for Congress (OOHHHHHH HE'S GETTING POLITICAL, HORTENSE, HOLD ON TO YOUR KNICKERS!)

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Gwyneth Paltrow will sing at the CMA Awards show this year, because nothing says country music like an overpampered, overrated actress who was born with a silver spoon in her twat.
  • Angelina Jolie may have done a Charlie Rose interview coked out of her mind, which is fine because that's the only way most people can stay awake through Charlie Rose anyway. 
  • A deleted scene from Avatar was released on the web that puts the entire fillm in a new context and makes it a truly revelatory experience -- in that it makes you understand exactly how shitty, unsubtle and derivative James Cameron's writing is. Now you know why I cry.
A weathered and dazed-looking Luke Perry was at DragonCon and posed for photographs with fans. The link in the preceding sentence is the best of the lot. I will just say that Luke is probably a very, very good sport. And that you can see every scintilla of "How the fuck did I end up here?" in his eyes. 

Johnny Depp is interested in remaking the Thin Man movies with Pirates of the Caribbean cohort Rob Marshall directing. This would be a bit like Thomas Kincaid repainting a Tolouse-Lautrec poster.

And finally: Gary Busey. Celebrity Apprentice. Pizza. Screaming at random passersby. WIN.

And that's all I have today. In keeping with my mood, Andrew WK does not take your ass (or anything else about you) seriously: 

Have a better day than I'm having. Later!

19 October 2010

There's a joke, and I know it very well. It's one of those I told you long ago; take my word, I'm the Notes From The News, don't you know

Hey all -- welcome back, and thank you for coming back. I appreciate each and every one of you in between spates of coughing my lungs up. I also appreciate my lungs, which is why I took it easy yesterday. I plan on getting back into the swing of things bit by bit over the course of the week, as I have some projects that are well overdue at this point and I want to get caught up on them -- but we'll start with a bevy of bumpers to satisfy your soul. Onward:

Remember Boxing Helena? No? Then you missed out on one of the all time great shithouse bugfuck crazy box office disasters in recent memory. And it turns out the director, Jennifer Chambers Lynch (daughter of Weirdmaster General David Lynch), has a new movie coming out. Not sure if Helena did so much damage to her career that it took her this long to land another film, or if she's just really really picky about the goofy ass scripts she films. Either way, Hisss is about . . . err . . . ummm . . . whooo boy. This mess makes Boxing Helena look like "Waltzing Matilda" by comparison.

I don't want to go on the cart, dept (Part One).: Barbara Billingsley, best known to the world as June Cleaver, passed away last weekend at the age of 91. Her last words were reportedly "Jive dudes don't got no sense nohow!"

Kanye West is pissed, yo. He's mad as hell and he's not going to take it anymore! He can't believe that Def Jam banned -- BANNED, I TELLS YA! -- the planned cover for his new album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy because it had a nipple on there. Except that according to Def Jam, they didn't ban it, they stand behind his decision to use the cover art if that's what he wants, and intimates that maybe 'Ye is full of shit. Well! I'm shocked, SHOCKED that someone would suggest this about the voice of a generation.

 Angelina Jolie has had her filming permit restored in Bosnia after someone actually, oh, I dunno, read the script and found that the controversy over the potential love story between a Bosnian woman and her Serbian rapist was "unnecessary," probably because it didn't fucking exist in the first place. Jolie said she hopes peple will judge the film more objectively after it's actually been shot and is in the theaters. Meanwhile she's going back to filming her story, which is tentatively titled Lie Back and Take It, Bit -- nooooooo, noooooo, not going there, not going there. I'm a bad blogger. Someone spank me.

I don't want to go on the cart, dept. (Part Two): Tom Bosley, aka Mr. Howard Cunningham on Happy Days, has passed away in his Palm Springs home at the age of 83. I have no sarcastic crack to make here, as I am genuinely saddened by this. Tom was an integral part of my growing up, and what remains of my childhood has been diminished all over again at the news of his death. So long, Mr. C. You will be missed.

Thom Yorke, apparently laboring under the misconception that he is John Cage, is releasing a charity single called "Two Minute Silence" that is exactly what the title suggests. The funny part is that he actually collaborated with five other people to do this. 

Dimension Films is dead set to pursue its big-ticket remake of Hellraiser. And to make sure it is of the highest horror film quality, they are pursuing . . . Christian E. Christiansen? I had to actually look him up in IMDb and he seems to have an extensive resume in his native Denmark, and almost nothing here except an off-brand version of Single White Female called The Roommate, which is still in post-production. Hm. Well, at least they're getting good talent for it by pursuing a quality actress like . . .  Amber Heard? Hrm. Aside from Zombieland, her filmography doesn't exactly inspire either. Well, they should still be able to make it good by replicating or bettering all the gory effects of the original . . . wait, it's going to be PG-13?! You know what, fuck it, I give up. What's in the box? A gigantic load of ass.

Today in who gives a fuck: Lindsay Lohan is being urged to drop Dina Lohan as her manager because just having her as a mother is hazardous enough; Jenny McCarthy is officially either one of the most hardcore  people you will ever meet or one of the most imbecilic, possibly both; and the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano has declared Homer Simpson to be a true Catholic, leading one to believe that Guido Sarcucci really has been writing for them all these years.

Uma Thurman clearly has a problem getting the powdered sugar directly onto the Belgian waffle. *aHEM*

And finally: Ohhhhh, Bristol. Bristol Bristol Bristol. You're a cute kid and I'm sure you're happy in your life, but sweet Hay-Zeus Marimba, what the in the name of all things Fred and Ginger were you thinking last night on Dancing With the Stars? That was bad, and you should feel bad. Unless of course you were deliberately  trying to get thrown off the show, in which case: Well done! Well done indeed! (By the way, this is officially the silliest thing I have ever posted on this blog.)

Welp, that's all I can stands, I can't stands nummore. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we BLOOBLOOBLOOBLOOBLOOBLOOBLOOBLOO:


18 October 2010

Sorry, gang

. . . But there's no way I'm going to be able to do the Notes From the News tonight. I was out sick today, and a visit to the doctor got back a diagnosis of bronchitis, so I'm going to rest a bit and take another crack at the column tomorrow.

In the meantime I leave you with randomness:


15 October 2010

Well I'm nitty, gritty, and my shirt's all torn, but I would love to spill the Notes From The News with you till dawn

Hey hey, it's Friday! The long week is over. Soon we all get to go to our homes or to our favorite watering holes and ease the stress of the last five days away with a relaxing evening of whatever relaxes us (Matt, I'm warning you, put that back in your pants). For me that means making dinner, reading to my son, and maybe catching a little of the ballgame. Oh, and snarking about entertainment news bites, but you knew that already. And speaking of which . . .

Neil Patrick Harris will go behind the camera for the first time to direct Aaron and Sarah, a romantic comedy about high school friends whose affection grows deeper over the four years of school, through four proms and a funeral . . . wait, that can't be right. *checks original article* Well, I'll be dipped. Okay then. Emma Roberts and Josh Hutcherson are signed to play the leads, presumably because Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell can't play that young any more.

I think I wanna dance, dept.: Prince is kicking off a new tour with a performance at New York's legendary Apollo Theater, and that the show will include performers and groups like Maceo Parker, Janelle Monae, Mint Condition, Esperanza Spalding, Lalah Hathaway, Sheila E., Cassandra Wilson and Graham Central Station. This show's got more funk than a plate of cheesy grits left out in the sun for a week. Sign me up.

Here's some late breaking news I came upon almost literally as I was getting ready to put today's blog post together: Warner Bros. and MGM have sealed a $400 million or $500 million deal (depending on which story you read) to finance The Hobbit at long last. Peter Jackson is now a lock to direct, and the film will start shooting in New Zealand. As soon as labor issues are resolved. And as soon as the Weta-affiliated miniatures workshop that was to be used for some of the filming gets rebuilt after being damaged in a rife last month. Still, Jackson has a lovely pile of brand new money to roll around in for a while, and that can't be a bad thing.

Here comes your 19th nervous breakdown, dept.: Keith Richards' autobiography Life is due out soon, and in it he is his usual irascible self, intimating among other things that Mick Jagger is not spectacularly endowed,  they've hardly spoken to each other about anything but business in twenty years (can't imagine why), and that for two years he thought Johnny Depp was his son's drug dealer. Which I can actually kind of see.

Swedish actress Noomi Rapace, who had a breakout role in the original film version of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, is now set to bring her talents and her not quite pronounceable name to The Last Voyage of Demeter, which fleshes out the sea journey of Dracula's coffin as alluded to in Bram Stoker's novel. Joining Rapace will be Sir Ben Kingsley, director Stefan Ruzowitzky, and a vampire to be named later.

ABC has decided that brutalizing Shakespeare is not enough to ruin television forever; the network is planning the revivals of a spate of 1970s shows that really weren't very good, in the hopes that nostalgia starved Xers will tune in and forget that we're now the same age our parents were when they were watching Thirtysomething. Included in the potential lineup of ass are reworkings of Wonder Woman, CHiPS, and now The Incredible Hulk. Now all we need is William Katt to dust off the red tights and our lives will be complete. In that we will all want to kill ourselves.

Today in who gives a fuck: Madonna hates Chicago and actresses because she is a seething cauldron of angst with a bad dye job and little discernible talent; Taylor Momsen is on the cover of Revolver magazine wearing lingerie and guns, because apparently only pervy pedos into well armed raccoons buy Revolver magazine any more; and Betty Thomas finally came to her senses and decided she would not be directing the third installment in the latest plague of Chipmunks movies, preferring instead to look for the artistic integrity she never really had in the first place.

This just in: the new Godzilla film will not be merging with an original project called Pacific Rim, and the project will not be directed by Guillermo del Toro, and it will not feature Godzilla fighting a giant blue knish named Steve. Check back again soon to learn about more shit that won't be happening.

Nic Cage Watch: Two words folks: Drive Angry. Judging by the trailer, this looks like ninety minutes of Nic at his bear suit wearing, woman-punching, bee-denying, "HOW'D IT GET BURNED?!" best/worst. The trailer and poster are at Pajiba, where you can view them both in all their batshit bugfuck dinky dao glory. Hey Nic, your hand is on fire. "I KNOW, IT'S AWESOME, I ESCAPED FROM HELL! FROM HEEELLLLLLLL! HOLY SHIT IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING TREEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

And on that note: SQUIRREL!

Have a good weekend!

14 October 2010

Don't call it a comeback, I been here for years, rockin' my peers and puttin' suckas in the Notes From The News

Hidelly ho, neighborinos! The time is ripe, and so was the garbage I put out last night, but never mind my silliness, here's some of my silliness:

The big news in nerd-movie-dom this week has to be: The Mad Max reboot has been delayed -- again -- so Tom Hardy is now free to pursue something else for a while. And that something else turns out to be Christopher Nolan's third Batman movie, which just signed Hardy on this week. His character has not been revealed yet, but odds are he'll be playing a villain . . . and those Killer Croc rumors which I dismissed the other day are still cropping up. We'll have to wait and see, but color me intrigued. Just not with an actual crayon. My kid already does that.

There may very well be a Top Gun sequel. And it may very well have Tom Cruise in it, albeit in a limited, "not obvious" role. Because Tom Cruise NEVER does anything that's obvious, baby. Except for half his filmography and Katie Holmes' nipples. 

Jerry Bruckheimer is creating a new reality show called Take the Money and Run which apparently will encourage people to commit "crimes" in order to receive large piles of gooey cash with a nougat center or some dumbfuck thing. Hey folks, remember when we actually had a code of morals in this country about crime not paying and people being honest and accountable for their actions? Yeah, I don't either. So I have to knock the old lady into the Central Park Reservoir to win the million bucks? I'm in.

Natalie Portman is the frontrunner to star in Ridley Scott's Alien prequel, which if there's any justice will be titled We've Seen This Before, Haven't We? 

Angelina Jolie has been refused permission to shoot her new movie in Bosnia-Herzegovina because Bosnians are afraid she will try to adopt all their children . . . no, they're afraid Brad Pitt will show up with another scary-looking beard on his face . . . no, that's not it, either. Ah, wait! It's about some trumped up ethnic/racist bullshit that misinterprets the script for the purposes of advancing an anti-Serb agenda. Bet Angelina misses the simpler days when all she had to do was play with snakes and purr "Alexanderrrrrrr" in a terrible Greek accent.

Cartoon Network is apparently set to adapt How To Train Your Dragon into an animated series. I was going to make a bad joke about this but I honestly can't think of any. This is a pretty cool idea.

It's being reported that Rhys Ifans will play Curt Connors/The Lizard in the new Spider-Man reboot, which is pretty good as it doesn't blow the Green Goblin out of the possibilities right away and, if they can resolve the film without actually killing the bad guy for once -- *shakes fist at Sam Raimi* -- he could be a good recurring villain somewhere down the line. Assuming the movie is a success. Which is a big ass out of you and me. But still not as much ass as the third Raimi film sucked.

Lionsgate is producing The Happytime Murders, a "dark puppet" movie to be directed by Brian (son of Jim) Henson. Judging by the story described in the link, it sounds like Alien Nation and  Who Framed Roger Rabbit had a threesome with Avenue Q and this was the felt-covered red-headed baby that resulted. I want to express cautious optimism here, but this looks like a great big muppetty train wreck.

Today in who gives a fuck: David Arquette says he's sorry -- yeah, he sure is one sorry motherfucker, all right; Gavin Rossdale kinda always knew he'd wind up your ex-boyfriend; and Eddie Murphy has fallen so low that he's forced to take a supporting role in a move that was originally written with him in mind for the starring role. Go on, pick it up, Ed. It's like sprinkles, that's all.

Who steals my play maketh trash, dept.: ABC is developing a series out of Romeo and Juliet. Not a mini-series, mind you. A series. A. Weekly. Series. Someone thought this would be a good idea, and apparently the part where the two romantic leads die at the end isn't really bothering anyone (or the fact that one of them is THIRTEEN YEARS OLD), which means we're living in a time when life has started to imitate bad jokes about Hollywood. Apparently the concept is to “peel away the curtain on the impetuous, incestuous, bloody, and violent relationships during the Renaissance in Verona,” because you can't do that by, say, writing an original script or anything. The people involved are director Catherine Hardwicke and producers Wyck Godfrey and Marty Bowen all of whom were involved in Twilight, and Todd Garner, who was one of the writers on Paul Blart: Mall Cop, and suddenly this is all starting to make a lot more sense. Sounds like must flee TV to me. What further woe conspires against mine age?

And that's that. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we dance: