30 November 2010

You know we've got to find a way to get some Notes From The News here today

Hey there, blog babies! Work's been crazy-ish, and I've been busy-ish, and I think I have my wife's cold (ish), but I still managed to mine the madhouse for more magnificent and marvelous something else beginning with the letter M. And moving right along, here's some news:

The Hobbit cast deathwatch, collateral damage edition, dept.: Wingnut Films had to fire a casting director yesterday over newspaper ads that were placed specifically seeking actors with "light skin tones" and for telling prospective actors that they were "too dark" for the film. Because that's exactly what you want to do in a country with a large dark-skinned indigenous population that already kind of thinks you suck. What's next, telling Peter Dinklage he's too tall to play a dwarf?

Speaking of people getting fired, it seems like the Tiffany Network is jettisoning basically everyone in front of the camera on The Early Show in what is surely not at all a desperate attempt to lift it out of third place in the ratings. So if you watch the show, the current crop of mannequins you know and are mildly indifferent to will soon be replaced by another crop of mannequins. Enjoy!

Maybe I do want to go on the cart, dept.: Revered Italian comedy director Mario Monicelli died Monday night. Not being familiar with Monicelli or his body of work, I probably would not have remarked upon his passing were it not for one thing: The manner in which he chose to pass. Faced with what seems to have been terminal cancer or pancreatic cancer (nobody seems sure right now) and depressed over his fate, Mario chose to go out on his terms -- leaping to his death from the fifth floor of the hospital where he was staying. I'm by no means a fan of suicide as a solution to anything, but at the same time you have to respect the stones it took to do something like that. Godspeed Mario. I hope you find the peace that was eluding you here.

Bucking a trend on daytime TV (and apparently especially on CBS), soap opera The Young and the Restless has been renewed for three more years of contrived plotlines, evil twins, Kid Tricks, and sexy sexy sex. Of course, given that the show has been on the air since 1973 it's hardly young ay more, and since it's been on the same network all that time it can't really be thought of as restless either. But screw it, congratulations Y&R. Keep up the good work and bad acting. 

Johnny Depp was interviewed by Patti Smith for the new issue of Vanity Fair -- yes, that Patti Smith, and yes, that's as awesome as an awesome thing can be without Michael Bay setting off explosions all around it. In the interview Depp talks about totally fucking with Disney minions who apparently thought he was making Captain Jack Sparrow "too gay." Because they should obviously be more worried about that rather than about the ongoing sluttification of just barely legal Miley Cyrus. Right?

Conor Oberst has reteamed with Bright Eyes and they are planning to release a new -- and possibly final -- album. The People's Key is due to drop February 15, and has been described as (ahem) "the best sci-fi emo album of the last 20 years." Because there are just so many of those clamoring to be the best, ya know. Hundreds, surely.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Famous for being famous person Khloe Kardashian says she felt "disgusted" after losing her virginity at age 14 to a "man" four years older than she was. And anything I say here would just be crude and insensitive so I'll just confine it to: Yeah, that's what he said. 
  • Mandy Moore says that if she wants a burger, she'll eat one. That rustling sound you just heard was a bunch of Moore-fixated guys filing paperwork to have their last names changed to "Burger." 
  • And as long as I'm being a complete dickbag here: Inferno director Matthew Wilder says that replacing Lindsay Lohan with Malin Akerman as the star of the film is a "16 ton weight" off his mind -- coincidentally, once Lindsay gets out of rehab she's likely to immediately go out and snort that exact weight of cocaine.  

BREAKING NEWS: if you do not take Jon Favreau's Cowboys and Aliens seriously, Harrison Ford will be sent to scowl at you until you do. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. 

Note to 20th Century Fox: While I understand your desire to protect your copyrighted material and to keep it from leaking to the public, it is worth pointing out to you that, unless Google AdSense and Amazon's Affiliate Program rates have changed dramatically in the last few weeks, you are probably not going to get $15 million out of this woman. Next time send a C&D notice for fuck's sake, you overzealous goobs.

Oh, Kanye. Oh, man. Oh my god, dude. You are un-be-fucking-lievable. Only you could interview Rihanna for Interview magazine and spend the entire time trying to get into her boy-shorts. You magnificent batshit bastard, you. I would take my hat off to you, but I'm afraid you'd start dry-humping my scalp.

And that's all I have for you today. I'm gonna go home and have some chicken soup. We take you now to another part of the world where something magical is going on:

Either that, or some dudes are planning on breaking into a bank. And if you got that reference you need to get out of the house even more than I do. ;)


29 November 2010

A flask I drink of sober tea, while relay cameras monitor the Notes From The News

Welcome back, all. Hope your Thanksgiving weekend was everything you wanted it to be and more. Ours was good, though coming back to three extra days' worth of work today means a somewhat delayed blog post . . . though I was able to put one together for you nonetheless. Let's bump the bumpers, shall we?

I don't want to go on the cart, dept. (part one): The last thing he said to me, "Doc," he said, "some time when the crew is up against it, and the breaks are beating the boys, tell them to get out there and give it all they got  . . . and win just one for the Zipper. I don't know where I'll be then, Doc," he said, "but I won't smell too good, that's for sure." So long, Leslie.

Normally I stay away from politics on this site, but every so often I come across a story so inexcusably, egregiously, rampantly full of bugfuck god damn stoopid that I feel compelled to link to it and say a word or two. So, in short order: Dear Pennsylvania Office of Homeland Security, WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. You do realize exactly how much this violates the Constitution, yes? Or maybe no, you don't, since you were pinheaded ass-wookie moronic enough to do it anyway. Way to go, guys. And way to go Mark Ruffalo for laughing it off instead of demanding punishment for your rights being violated in such a blatant fashion.  You know, what with the unchallenged setting of precedents and what not. Yeah, well done all around. And fuck you all around too.

Seems that country music starlet Miranda Lambert threw a drink in Nickelback singer Chad Kroeger's face back on November 10 because he called her a bitch for not drinking shots with him. Sure, it's old news, but I just now found out about it and I am very much in favor reporting on anything unfortunate that happens to Nickelback's frontdouche. Miranda deserves a medal. 

The Black-Eyed Peas have been tapped to play during the Super-Bowl halftime show, because . . . well, ummm . . . err . . . aeeee . . .huh. I'm sure there must be a reason. Oh wait, I know! Money. As in, Fergie needs some for more meth. 

In other news about bad entertainment, the highly overrated Julie Taymor and the incredibly overrated U2's Broadway  bread and circuses (strike) musical Spider-Man: Open Up Your Wallets started a series of preview performances last night, and it was less than spectacular. Unless watching actors dangle around in mid-air because the flying harness effect kept locking up in the middle of an impossible to follow story is your idea of spectacular. At least the 6 year old they New York Times interviewed thought it was cool. 

This just in: James Franco and Anne Hathaway will host the next Academy Awards show. Presumably they will not be asked to re-enact scenes from their most recent films. Which is good in Franco's case, but which sucks in Anne's case, and OINK OINK OINK OINK.

Awwwww, that's so cute. Dan Aykroyd thinks there's still going to be a Ghostbusters 3. What a little scamp he is. *ruffles Dan's hair*

I don't want to go on the cart, dept. (part 2): Irvin Kershner, director of The Empire Strikes Back, died yesterday at age 87. Kersh was nowhere near as funny as Leslie Nielsen, though he did have the singular honor of being the only director to actively work to improve a Star Wars script and make the characters more human and believable . . . something George Lucas was unable to do despite five other attempts at it. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Mariah Carey may be expecting twins. This is important because just think about the breast-feeding implications. 
  • Rihanna says she could be pregnant a year from now. Or she could be breaking rocks in a chain gang while kickboxing Jean-Claude Van Damme. Because you know, she's just hardcore like that. 
  • Justin Bieber has a new haircut. And if we paid half as much attention to our politicians as we do to shit like this, Mark Ruffalo wouldn't be on a terror watchlist for organizing a movie screening. Nyah, so there. 

And now, in our Least Likely Where Are They Now? Ever segment, Luther "Uncle Luke" Campbell, formerly of 2 Live Crew and "Oh! Me So Horny" fame, is now . . .  wait for it . . . coaching high school football. This is actually so lame it's kind of awesome. 

Speaking of which: Michael Bay is still worried about the size of his dick.

Tom Waits will be publishing a book of poetry next year, which will combine his verses with photos of homeless people. This is such a perfect marriage of ideas I can't even find a bad joke to make about it. 

And finally: From Texas comes the unbelievable, SHOCKING news that Willie Nelson was arrested over the weekend for possession of marijuana. I'm just . . . crestfallen here. Willie? Smoke pot? I'm stunned! THERE'S NOTHING TO BELIEVE IN ANY MORE, MAAANNNNN!

And that's that. I need to go do non-blog things for a bit. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we ARRRGGGG OMG DIE MISTER MANS DIE DIE DIE WHY WON'T MISTER MANS DIE?


24 November 2010

Over the river and through the woods, to the Notes From The News we go

Howdy howdy howdy! 'Tis a chill day in the city that never shuts up, and there's a lot of things yet to do this evening, not least of which is your mom, so I'm getting today's post in early. And then again when she's had a minute to rest. Now stop flipping the bird at your monitor and read these newsnotes:

I don't want to go on the cart, dept.: legendary Chicago blues guitarist Albert "Little Smokey" Smothers has passed away at age 71. Little Smokey was a mentor to guys like Ellvin Bisho and Paul Butterfield, and had a resume that most guitarists would run over their grandmothers to have. I had the privilege of seeing him play once in the early 90s, and the man was amazing to hear, though his health was obviously beginning to fail even then. So long Li'l Smokey. We'll miss ya.

Tim Burton, not content with being too lazy to do more than make mediocre copies of other people's work, has now decided to let his fans write his stories for him in what may be the Depp-iest version of Mad Libs ever played.

Speaking of Mr. Depp, it's been confirmed that he will be re-teaming with Pirates of the Incoherrean director Gore Verbinski to film The Lone Ranger, in which Depp will play . . . Tonto. Because, you know, some other pasty white dude just wouldn't have been non-Native American enough. Somewhere Jay Silverheels is banging his head against a wall and wondering what the fuck he did to deserve this shit.

Oh, Kanye. You wonderful, deluded hunk of apeshit, you. Just when I think it's going to be a slow day and I won't have enough to report on, you go and open your mouth. God bless you and your narcissism, man. I honestly think the world would be a much poorer place if you weren't around to remind us that however crazy life is, at least we have your shit-shows to make us feel better by comparison. Keep up the good work, 'Ye. And know that we love your nutbar ass. Well, all of us except Taylor Swift, anyway.

Give me something that's not cold, dept.: Some monumental bag of ass is selling Mark David Chapman's autographed copy of Double Fantasy -- which he had John Lennon sign for him five hours before shooting him in cold blood -- on an auction site for approximately $850,000. The only thing more chillingly ghoulish than this is the knowledge that theres some schmuck out there with a shit-ton of money and no sense of perspective who would just love to own this. People suck.

So there's now a Facebook campaign to get Cookie Monster in to host Saturday Night Live, because apparently it's not enough for the sketches to be one-note, now the entire show has to be that way. I wonder if any of the people clamoring for this in the face of all common sense realize that when SNL first aired Jim Henson and the Muppets were a part of the show, and they sucked. Now SNL sucks and the Muppets are a cultural icon. Well, except for Elmo. Elmo can eat a dick. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Actress Emily Rossum and continually-batting-above-his-average singer Adam Duritz are no longer an item, so expect the next Counting Crows album to be full of mopey songs about relationships. Just like every other Counting Crows album. 
  • Jessica Simpson will be making a tofurkey for Thanksgiving, jjust as soon as she can find a tofurkey farm near her that will kill the little bastards humanely. 
  • Producers of "found footage" film Apollo 18 are aiming to release their movie in about three months. The fact that all they basically have is a poster and a website has not dimmed their enthusiasm. 

Note to Damon Lindelof: Please note that you live in a gigantic glass house of unresolved plot lines and poorly-paced scenes full of moping, and perhaps it might be incumbent upon your dumb ass not to be throwing any stones at the Harry Potter franchise for failing to resolve plot lines in the first part of a two part conclusion to the series. You monumental ass-wookie, you.

Say, you there! You! Yeah, you! The kid with the shirt and the thing! Do you have ten bucks just burning a hole in your pocket? Dying to see a piece of entertainment that titillates you with Christina Aguilera's fishnet-clad legs, Cher's increasingly immobile and Muppet-like countenance, and above all the eternal heaving-bosomed sex bomb that is Stanley Tucci? Well, don't bother. Turns out Burlesque is a gigantic mound of manure committed to celluloid. Which news has, I am certain, left us all gasping in absolute shock. But fear not, internetizens -- the good folk at Pajiba have come to the rescue with a list of fifty things you can spend a ten-spot on that are infinitely preferable to seeing Burlesque. I'd go for the Jane Austen action figure if I were you.

Randy Quaid has heard the chimes at midnight, man. He is looking into the abyss and letting it look back through him. He knows. Things. Oh yes he does. He has delved one yard below your mines, and will blow you at the moon. At the moon, Alice. You star-killing bastards won't get him, man. None of you will get old Randy. He knows the deep secrets of the world, and can hide in the shadows while you pass by on your way to kill some other, lesser lights. Because Randy, he sees your purpose. he sees a cherub that sees it. He will prevail. he will escape your star-killers. He knows the way through the paths of Hell and has seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and that light is most assuredly not a Dunkin Donuts sign. For he has seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, has Randy. He has found the Promised Land. He has found . . . CANADA.

Aaaaand that's all I have for you this fine day, kiddies. I'll be taking the Thanksgiving weekend off for the most part, though I may put up some alt content on Friday just to keep my hand in (those of you with dirty minds are working overtime right now). If we don't all see each other before then have a good weekend, and remember:

Killer robots are everywhere.

Happy Thanksgiving!

23 November 2010

And now . . .


In the days of my youth, I was told what it means to be the Notes From The News

Howdy do, hoopy froods! Been a longish sort of day and a slowish one to boot, but I remain undaunted and unshaken in my drive and desire to bring you the best in stupid crap on the internet! Aren't you lucky? Of course you are. Here now the news:

So yesterday the online film and geek and film geek media went insane over the story that Warner Bros. was considering rebooting Buffy the Vampire Slayer without Joss Whedon involved. What is interesting about this is that the exact same story went around the tubes of inter almost exactly a year ago, and nothing has come if it yet. The only difference this time is that a mediocre screenwriter's name is attached. Whedonites are nonetheless going absolutely full-on Reaver-style batshit, screeching about how this will ruin Buffy forever, and it will never be the same again, because you know, syndicated reruns, DVDs, and streaming video on Netxflix have all now been retconned out of fucking existence by Warner Bros.as well so we will never see Seth Green's shitty acting again. (You will excuse me while I roll my eyes and make a jerking-off motion while saying this.) About the only reasonable take on the matter is, typically, Whedon's, and even that take is one of muted, if sarcastic, resignation. Sorry Slayer fanatics. Looks like you'll have to stake out some new territory. (WHAT. I said it's been a long day, and I'm tired. Stop looking at me like that, dammit!) 

Not news: Quincy Jones does an interview with Us Weekly. News: Quincy says some critical and frankly, entirely accurate things about how Kanye West shouldn't be compared to him as a producer as there's really no comparison between them, and stresses that this is only because they do two completely different things, then goes out of his way to reiterate this on his own website and to give West major props. Which leads to WTF: Rolling Stone trumpeting, "QUINCY JONES LASHES OUT AT KANYE WEST ZOMG LOOKY LOOKY FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!" Because it's a slow news week and seriously, folks, what else did you expect from a shitty rag like Rolling Stone anyway?

Remember a few weeks ago when I reported that Adrien Brody was suing the producers of the Dario Argento-disowned Dario Argento-directed film Giallo, because Brody had never been paid for his work? Looks like a judge has agreed with him, and has ordered the producers to stop distributing DVDs of the film on Amazon until such time as they pay Brody for the use of his dewy-eyed, hangdog features. Meanwhile, Brody's eyebrows are demanding a separate deal of their own.

Pink, who is pregnant, says that as soon as her baby-to-be can say "mama," she'll be going on the road, and that they'll be a traveling caravan of Gypsies with garlands in their hair. Which actually doesn't sound at all weird coming from Pink. Doesn't really sound like a healthy way to raise a small child, though. Good luck, kid. Pray she doesn't turn into Courtney Love, Jr. in ten years.

Meanwhile, in an alternate universe where a mention on a dubious Haitian website equals an acting career, New York TV station WPIX is reporting that an "actor" who "appeared" on Ugly Betty and in the film Step Up 3-D went on a crazed rampage with a samurai sword last night, screaming Bible passages at his mother in their Brooklyn apartment and shouting for her to repent before murdering her. It's all sordid and strange and more than a little scary, especially in as much as nobody aside from BelFim.com seems to know anything about his so called career.  But this is about what I've come to expect from WPIX of late, as their newscasts have all the content of a Twinkie sucking on a helium balloon. 

Dr. Dre has announced that his upcoming album Detox will be his last, unless he decides to record a sequel titled Botox. Dre says would rather step behind the scenes and age gracefully than become a caricature of himself. Snoop Dogg, you listening?

Erstwhile alterna-rock darling PJ Harvey has announced that she will be releasing a new album on Valentine's Day of next year, which is all romantic and sweet and shit until you realize that this is PJ Harvey we're talking about, and that she apparently recorded most of it using autoharps. Because she doesn't know how to drive a harp with a manual transmission, one assumes. The album, perhaps overconfidently titled Let England Shake, will be out on Island Records and will soon thereafter be making its way to bargain bins worldwide. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Courtney Love is being sued by jeweler Jacob & Co. for items that she (ahem) "borrowed" from them and never returned. Which is what happens when you loan valuable shit to a drug addict, so I have no sympathy for Jacob & Co. whatsoever. 
  • Taylor Momsen The Incredible Pantsless Human Raccoon has been suspended indefinitely from the set of Gossip Girls, because the producers have learned what the rest of us already knew: she's an over-privileged twat waffle with a highly inflated sense of her own importance. Also, there's the whole pantsless raccoon thing. 
  • This just in. Olivia Wilde has nipples. You're welcome, guys. 

The Sluttification of Miley Cyrus: the Final Chapter, dept.: Well, she's eighteen now, and her journey to the dark side is now complete. In just one or two short years our Miss Miley has gone from Teen Dream Queen to generating fake outrage by exposing her back to Annie Liebovitz, to humping stripper poles, to grinding her teen-drunk ass on old producers' laps, to wishing for titties that work, to rolling around in bed in her scantily whoa-mama, to being the product of a newly-broken home whose dad seems emotionally absent and whose mom apparently banged Bret Michaels on the side. And now here we are at the cusp of herr adulthood, and young Miley was spotted at her party grinding with (we presume) her boyfriend while wearing a leather bra. You go, Miley. You go. No. Please. JUST FUCKING GO ALREADY. 

In news that is sure to piss off Wesley Snipes and please anyone whose name is Bruce and likes to say "Bonzer!" in an unironic fashion, Australia has decided not to file criminal charges against Paul Hogan for tax avoision (SHUT UP I'LL USE THE DAMN WORD IF I WANT TO) after determining that winning a conviction would be highly unlikely because no matter what evidence they gave in court, Hogan would just say, "You call that a knife? THIS is a knife," and charm the britches off the bitches. 

And that's all for today. Tune in again tomorrow for more of the same -- aren't you lucky? Of course you are. See you then -- unless of course you do this, in which case you won't be seeing anything:


22 November 2010

THAT'S how you let the beat build

Nyle "Let The Beat Build" from Nyle on Vimeo.

Yes. Yes it is.

And now . . .


Don't be shocked by the tone of my voice, check out my new weapon, the Notes From The News

Hey there hi there ho there! It's been a long time, now I'm coming back home! I'm back and so are the newsnotes, and I have to say it does indeed feel good to be here again, dishing out the disses and serving up the snark for y'all. Thanks to everyone for being so patient and giving my alt content all the page views while I was away. Please feel free to give the regular content the same amount of page views now that I'm back! And speaking of viewing, cast your peepers on my bumpers: 

By now everybody has heard the news that Britain's Royalest Bachelor Prince William is now off the market, having gotten engaged to his longtime paramour Kate Middleton (and that he used his late mother's engagement ring to make the proposal, which is either sweetly nostalgic or creepily ghoulish, depending on whom you ask). I've had a couple of people  ask me what I think about the whole thing, and I believe I can safely say that I, beyond a shadow of a doubt, do not give a tin tinker's fart in a rat's asshole. Well, that's not entirely true -- I do and I don't. It's very nice for Williiam and Kate, and I wish them more luck in their married years than William's parents had. Certainly they're going about it in a sensible enough fashion by actually having gotten to know each other  inside and out over the past eight years -- I have always and still do maintain that if more people took this route instead of jumping on the first likely dick or pair of tits that came their way, the divorce rate would be a lot motherfucking lower. So kudos to William and Kate for getting that much right, at least. But as far as the media froth that has whipped itself up in the wake of the announcement? You know, all the usual stupid shit like what gown will she wear, will it be a traditional wedding like Charles and Diana's, who will the bridesmaids be, where will the weddin' supper be, crimbo, crimbo? Nah. Fuck that shit. It's all a diversion, a way to make being so insanely wealthy that you can wipe your ass with dollar bills (or in William's case, pound notes) look like a good and proper thing to be, even though it is by and large the insanely wealthy people of the world and their political dick-puppets who have turned the world into the economically-depressed shithole it is today. But we forget that because the media waves Kate's hand in our face, and on it is the bling of a dead woman, and we all go OOOHHHH SHINY PRETTY THING. And we forget all that other shit, because we're essentially magpies who have become used to having meaningless pablum served up to us in teaspoon-like doses, sometimes with the bonus of snarky commentary to make us feel superior to everyone else, and . . . heeeeeyyyyy, wait a minute . . . . 

Jay-Z has admitted to shooting his older brother at the age of 12, possibly so he would have something to write about at the age of 22.

Daniel Day-Lewis has been signed to star as the 16th President of the United States in Steven Spielberg's Lincoln. Day-Lewis will replace Liam Neeson, who dropped out of the role this past summer in order to take on a series of lucrative roles in shitty films because eh, it's a paycheck. Spielberg will begin filming Lincoln before lensing his other in-development project, Robocalypse. Though it would be kind of awesome if he combined the two. 

Fox has announced its mid-season schedule changes . . . and I'm sorry to announce the imminent death of Fringe, a damn good little show that, like many damn good little shows on that network before it, is getting the shafterino from Fox execs. No doubt somewhere Joss Whedon is picking up the phone to call J. J. Abrams and congratulate him for lasting as long as he did over there.

Justin Bieber won four, count 'em one two three four, American Music Awards last night, apparently for auto-tuning the word "baby" a bajillion times in place of any actual talent. Methinks Jay-Z shot the wrong teenager.

Mark Wahlberg has stated publicly that M. Night Shyamasoulman's The Happening was, in a word or two (or three or four), a bunch of shit. Upon hearing this, Shyamacowboyonapalehorseiride elected not to send Wahlberg his new script, tentattively titled OH MY GOD THIS PENCIL IS TRYING TO KILL ME. The twist ending being of course that it was the pen all along.
 Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Jessica Simpson says she cried when she found out that some dude once again wanted her to be his trophy wife. 
  • Jorge Garcia will play a "hippy geek" in J. J. Abrams' new show Alcatraz.  Whether this is a typo for "hippie" or they're just describing the size of Jorge's ass remains to be seen. 
  • The Food Network has canceled the show The Ace of Cakes. Not because it had no audience, but because it's a goddamn fucking stupid show, even for the Food Network.

Send in the Bear Jew -- don't bother, he's here, dept.: Another fake trailer has found a Blue Fairy to turn it into a real, live shitty film. This time it's the Eli Roth-parodying so-called "Clown trailer" that's been tickling ribs around the internet the last few weeks. Apparently Roth himself saw the piece and liked it so much, he's contacted the guys who did it and will now be producing their feature length version of the movie. I can't decide whether this breaks Sturgeon's Law or validates it. 

Wesley Snipes is going to jail for tax avoision (what? it's a perfectly cromulent word, go embiggen your vocabulary or something, godddammit), and at last report was en route to prison (insert "black men can't jump bail" joke here, and hi, welcome to your flight to the inner circle of Hell, would you like the window seat?). Wesley will serve three years in the joint for his crime, and will probably get time off for good behavior so long as he doesn't make any more shitty movies like The Art of War II: Betrayal while he's in the can.  

Lindsay Lohan has either quit or been fired from Inferno, the Linda Lovelace biopic that everyone was eager to see because we're all basically pervs and want to see LiLo's titties again before she croaks off. Be not disappointed however, gang. The producers have found a suitably talented replacement: Malin Akerman, who will bring her mediocre line reading abilities, her smokin' bod, and her well-practiced O face to the proceedings as soon as filming is ready to start. Or possibly before.

And now, Pajiba presents Courtney Love in The Unbearable Lightness of the Importance of Being Soft Focus Round Midnight While Humping a Miniature Disco Ball and Stoned Out of Your Fucking Gourd. Blues. Brought to you by Purina Has-Been Chow. 

. . . aaahhhhhhh, I feel better now, don't you? It's like letting out a satisfying fart after a rich meal. Which metaphor detractors may use to describe my work at some point, but screw them too. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we get the puck out of here:

Ooooooooo, that's gonna need some duct tape.


19 November 2010

New Rambles.NET reviews

Hey all. With any luck, Notes From The News will be back next week. In the meantime, I have some new reviews at Rambles.NET for you to peruse. I may have linked to some of these before, but oh well. ;)

Ronin, by Frank MIller
Raising the Root, by Dean Station
The Dead Zone, by Stephen King
A Hard Day's Night, dir. Richard Lester
Raven Summer, by David Almond

And there's more. You can check out my other reviews on my bio page, here.


18 November 2010

Smell that.

I know it's old, but it's still funny.


The other side of the coin, for balance:

He's Fred, Jim

Offered without comment:

Wanna see a magic trick?


And then he crushed a beer can with his . . . well, never mind . . .

Alt content time!

17 November 2010

I'm still here!

Hey all, apologies for not posting anything for the last couple of days. Between my wife, then my son, then me being violently sick with some kind of stomach virus, I just haven't had the wherewithal to do anything but sleep, watch TV, and occasionally whoops my cookies. Getting back on an even keel now, so hopefully things should be back to Abby Normal around here soon.

In the meantime, here is something that is not content, but an incredible simulation:

13 November 2010

And now for something completely CRAP!

Getting a Handel on my morning

This made my morning:

On Saturday, October 30, 2010, the Opera Company of Philadelphia brought together over 650 choristers from 28 participating organizations to perform one of the Knight Foundation's "Random Acts of Culture" at Macy's in Center City Philadelphia. Accompanied by the Wanamaker Organ - the world's largest pipe organ - the OCP Chorus and throngs of singers from the community infiltrated the store as shoppers, and burst into a pop-up rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's "Messiah" at 12 noon, to the delight of surprised shoppers. This event is one of 1,000 "Random Acts of Culture" to be funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation over the next three years. The initiative transports the classical arts out of the concert halls and opera houses and into our communities to enrich our everyday lives. To learn more about this program and view more events, visit www.randomactsofculture.org. The Opera Company thanks Macy's and the Friends of the Wanamaker Organ (www.wanamakerorgan.com) for their partnership, as well as Organ Music Director Peter Conte and Fred Haas, accompanists; OCP Chorus Master Elizabeth Braden, conductor; and Sound Engineer James R. Stemke. For a complete list of participating choirs and more information, visit www.operaphila.org/RAC. This event was planned to coincide with the first day of National Opera Week.

Direct link to YouTube so you don't have to deal with the weird ass formatting error that cuts off 1/3 of the video image: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp_RHnQ-jgU&feature=share

Good morning!

Up with the cows again . . .

My mind is blown

 . . . no, I'm not telling you why I'm up so late. :P

12 November 2010

" "

(click for full image)

Fall in, fall out

Still one of the best videos I've ever seen, and a total ass-beater of a song to boot:

Oh my stars and garters

It is rare that someone on the internet does something so inescapably awesome that I am forced, not only to link to it, but also to stand and applaud at the sheer inventiveness and audacity of what has been done. This is one of those rare moments.

As most of you no doubt know, George Romero's original Night of the Living Dead has been in the public domain for as long as it has been in release, thanks to a clerking error. Bad for George, but awesome for any number of people who have made money selling copies of his classic movie. And a boon for people on the internet who like to goof around with content and context and editing technology and YouTube's capabilities to bring you something like Editing the Dead, a choose-your-own-adventure style reworking of the movie that is, simply, one of the coolest things I have seen on the internet in a long, long time.

It begins here:


And now, your moment of historical accuracy

Because we here at Nighthawk Postcards care enough to keep your teenage "rebels" from getting shot by Che Guevara. Won't somebody think of the obnoxious teenagers? 

In related news: 

¡Gente loca! ¡Usted lo hizo estallar! ¡Ahhhh, maldita sea! ¡Que Dios te maldiga a todos al infierno!

Holy Shat!, dept.:

Click to embiggen (that's what she said):


Ironically enough, I'm getting more pageviews with the last two days' worth of alt content than I normally do all week. Maybe I need to rethink this a little. ;)


He's everywhere! He's everywhere!

(If you get this reference you are old like me.)


Thanks to Shane fir this one: 

Someone's overwhelmed on the internet

I just wanted to take a second and offer good wishes, prayers, and support to Randall Munroe of the superlative webcomic xkcd; apparently he's going through a bit of a rough patch right now, and it's going to be choppy waters for him for a bit. Good luck Randall -- your site is one of the bright spots on the internet, and I hope you and yours come through this business intact and better than when it started.

Home Economics 101 & 7/8

(FYI, this is months old and there is no Regretsy fund at this point. Just so you know.)


Goooooooooooooood MORNING, internet!

Current status:

I'm on the left. And the right.

How I was able to bifurcate and assume animal form is up to you to determine.

11 November 2010

And now for something completel*CRASSSSHHHHHH*

Offered without comment

And now for something completely awesome

And now for something else completely the same

Alt content time!

In honor of Veterans Day

This is an article written by my bud Tony Deconnick. It's a great story, and it's well told to boot. First few paragraphs are here, the rest is behind the link at the end:

Modern Soldiers, Ancient Medicines

(Nov. 11) -- It's late afternoon on the Colorado plains, and the sun is disappearing behind the ridge of mountains to the west of us, but all I can see is darkness.

I'm in a traditional Lakota sweat lodge, a 15-foot-wide dome of willow branches covered in thick moving blankets and canvas. 

Inside the tiny lodge, 20 of us are shoulder to sweaty shoulder in burning pain. The ceremony leader sings a traditional song, pouring cup after cup of water onto the still-glowing rocks, increasing the heat until voices break the darkness in anguish. Mine would join them if I could, but the heat is like a hundred pounds of sand, pressing me down into submission. 

Now I know what it feels like to touch hell.

Find the rest by following the link here.

Thanks, Tony!

And now for something completely the same

I'm sorry you guys. I tried like hell to get over the hump today, to start gathering links and being snarky, just as a means to distract myself from how godalmighty awful this week has been. And it didn't work. Every time I turned around, the day just served me another shit sandwich. And tomorrow is looking like more of the same. So I'm going to preemptively say that this week will be a wash as far as the Newsnotes are concerned, and I'm going to finish out today and tomorrow with more alternate content. Thanks for bearing with me through all this, and I promise I'll try to get things back on an even keel as soon as I can.

10 November 2010

We interrupt Nighthawk Postcards

. . . to bring you the following Dude:

We now return you to the internet, which is already in progress.

You make JGL feel like a . . .

One of the most talented people on the internet

Klingons to the left of me, Bajorans to the right

Et tu, Wednesday?

I seriously can't win with this week, folks. I'm about ready to pack it in and start again next Monday. We'll see how tomorrow goes.

And now for something completely Fred and Ginger:

I may have more good alternate content later. We'll see.

09 November 2010

Bonus non-content content to content you

And now, the following diversion

Pink Floyd mashed up with the Bee Gees?

It's more likely than you think!

I don't feel tardy

Current status:

This is turning into the Week From Hell. Sorry folks, no Newsnotes again today, about which I am sorely pissed because I really wanted to get things back on an even keel this week. We'll try again tomorrow, and I'll try again to get some alternative content up tonight, provided a peaceful evening and clear enough thought patterns.

08 November 2010


Sorry folks, I got slammed at work today and had no time to do any linkblogging, and I doubt I'll get a chance to do much tonight eitther. I will try to put up some kind of content later though. Thanks for bearing with me, I know things have been scattershot around here lately.

05 November 2010

Watch out, you might get what you're after; cool babies, strange but not a stranger. I'm an ordinary guy, burning down the Notes From The News

Hey there webizens! I'm here for a record two days in a row, can you believe it? Got a clean bill of health from my doctor on Wednesday too, so barring tragic accidents, unexpected maladies, or an invasion of Scarlett Johansson clones, I should be here on a more regular basis. Here now the news:

With great casting comes great responsibility, dept.: Martin Sheen and Sally Field are in negotiations to play Uncle Ben and Aunt May, respectively, in Marc Webb's Spider-Man reboot. So this cast is officially all over the bloodydamn map at this point, and at this rate Columbia may wind up spending more on actors than it does on effects. And even with that taken into account this will still be better than Raimi's third Spidey film.

The trailer for Zack Snyder's Sucker Punch is out and about, as you no doubt know by now. And my personal thoughts about Snyder aside for the time being (and oh yes indeed I have them), this thing looks like it could be the most batshit awesomeballs thing I've seen in a while. It could also be an incoherent, sloppy, oversaturated mess that is nonetheless pretty to look at, because ZOMG HOT CHIX WIT BOOBIES HURR HURR HURR. And you know what, I would be perfectly happy with either as long as Carla Gugino is in it. Cautious optimism abounds. 

For some bizarre, inexplicable reason, Conan O'Brien doesn't want Jay Leno as a guest on his new TBS late night show. Anyone have any idea why? This is a total mystery to me.

MGM death watch, dept.: the beleaguered studio insists it will be fine, just fine, and has plans to release the next James Bond film in 2012, in spite of being $4 billion in debt and having to turn to other studios and producers who actually have money to finance films -- and top presumably expect a return on those investments, which would eat up any potential profits that might revive MGM's (let's face it) nonexistent fortunes. But the studio insists that it's not dead, it's getting better, it thinks it'll go for a walk, IT FEEEELS HAPPY, IT FEEEEEELLLLLLSSS HAPPYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

Non comics adaptation news: ABC has announced a new series that sounds suspiciously like Bill Willingham's amazing comic series Fables, except it somehow isn't in some key way that ABC has yet to reveal, probably because the guy ripping off Bill Willingham's comic for this series hasn't ripped that idea off from someone else just yet. Hope you have some good lawyers, Bill.

The BBC has issued an apology for incorrectly suggesting that money raised by Bob Geldof's "Do They Know It's Christmas?" was used to fund armed rebel groups in Ethiopia. In related news, we're still waiting for Bob Geldof to issue an apology for "Do They Know It's Christmas?" being a condescending, smarmy, holier-than-thou piece of crap. 

Comics adaptation news: Legendary director John Carpenter (and if I have to list his films here for you, you really ought to be reading another entertainment blog) is apparently set to bring the popular horror-action comic Darkchylde to the big screen. Which is awesome, because as far as I'm concerned you can never have too many ass-kicking blondes knocking evil on its pasty backside. Sarah Michelle Gellar, you listening?

Amy Wino Winehouse has done a cover version of "It's My Party" and holy fuck-a-roni. This is just. Unbelievably. Bad. Lesley Gore is out there somewhere finding a whole new meaning in the words "You would cry too, if it happened to you." Get thee to a rehabbery, Amy. Get thee hence.

This just in: Kate Gosselin is systematically destroying her children's lives, self-esteem, and future ability to function in an undamaged fashion. Oh wait, we already knew that, didn't we? Well, she's doing it again. And Jon's no prize either. Stay tuned for more Shit You Already Knew on Nighthawk Postcards!

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Former teen heartthrob David Cassidy was busted on a DUI charge on Wednesday. Cassidy says he will fight the charge; it'll be interesting to hear how he plans to explain away the failed breath test and the half-empty bottle of bourbon in the back seat of his car. Of course, we're still waiting for him to explain David Cassidy: Man Under Cover.  
  • Holy shitballs! Miley Cyrus drank a beer! OH MY GOD TEENAGERS DRINKING BEER WHEN WILL THE INSANITY END?! 
  • The news American Idol hasn't even started airing yet, and already Jennifer Lopez and Ryan Seacrest are at each other's throats about the size of their paychecks. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll suffocate on their own insufferable egotism. 


Finally: Every once in a while, a man does something that is so full of heartwarming, throat-lumping, unadulterated win that you canot help but stand up and give him massive props for it. Such is the case with one Leigh Gallagher, freelance comic artist and, right now, the most fucktastically awesome boyfriend in the history of boyfriends making other boyfriends look positively sick by comparison. What in the nebulous name of Nebuchadnezzar am I talking about, you ask? Well, my friend, I am talking about this. Congratulations, Niki. You landed one of the good ones.

And on that heartwarming note, I leave you with wishes for a good weekend. I would say more, but now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we apologize for the following interruption:


04 November 2010

Back in black, I hit the sack; I've been too long, it's good to be back. Yes I'm cut loose from the Notes From The News, that's kept me hanging about

'Ello 'ello, wot's all this, then? Feeling considerably better today, even with the side effects of the flu vaccine taken into consideration. Thanks one and all for being patient with me this week while I muddled through and mustered my mustard for you to relish. And no, I have no earthly clue what the hell that means, either. Which means it's probably an opportune moment to transition over to today's extra-long edition of the newsnotes:
The poster for the Jodie Foster-directed movie The Beaver, starring everyone's favorite drunken racist abuser Mel Gibson, has made its debut, and . . . oh dear . . . oh *snx* deary me . . . *snicker* I just . . . *chortle* . . . I can't . . . *snort*  . . . I mean . . .  BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAA!!! Wow. Well, it was a nice career you had for a while there, Mel. Nice knowing ya.
This just in: well-known miser and cheapskate (THAT'S A JOKE, SON) Roland Emmerich is working on a hot potato grand slam super slammin' hump the monkey ding dong dilly of an idea: a movie about an alien invasion told from a ground-level perspective, using the "found footage" idea that the kids all seem to like these days. The movie will be called The Zone, and it will be made for less than five million dollars. Which is usually what Emmerich spends on toilet paper on a given day.
And every time contractions seize my baby bearing back I hope you feel it, dept.: For no reason at all, here is a very pregnant Alanis Morisette in a bikini, looking like she just kissed a well traveled fireplug. Good luck Alanis; at least it isn't a Coulier. 

Miley Cyrus has been signed as the lead in So Undercover, which will feature her as a "tough, street-smart private eye," and . . . . . . oh dear . . . oh *snx* deary me . . . *snicker* I just . . . *chortle* . . . I can't . . . *snort*  . . . I mean . . . BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Wow. I can't believe grown adults with college educations get paid to sit around and think this shit up.
Judith Griggs. If you want to know why, read this. Oh, and this.
In case you aren't a regular reader of the A.V. Club website, they have a semi-regular series going called "Whatever Happened to Alternative Nation?" that has been a bi-weekly slice of awesome. Part Three just went up the other day and it's an incisive, telling look at Pearl Jam and its rise to, and subsequent repudiation of, worldwide fame. Personal note: when I lived in Chicago Eddie Vedder's mom used to call the local alternative station, Q101, and tell stories about Eddie, and she was a hoot. Eddie finally learned about it and asked her to stop -- which I can dig now as it had to be some embarrassing shit to have to go through, but at the time everyone thought Ed was kind of being a twat. And that was before the No Code album.
Paul Reubens would like us all to know that he is a separate person from Pee Wee Herman. To which we respond: We know you are, but what are you?
Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Demi Lovato has entered rehab. Good for her. Now someone please tell me who in the fucking fuck Demi Lovato is.
  • One of the surely, surely a good idea shows on Oprah Winfrey's new network is going to be a reality show where Ryan and Tatum O'Neal live together in an attempt to salvage their father-daughter relationship, which has suffered more damage than the USS Arizona did on 12/7/41. What could possibly go wrong?
  • Note to website editors: You know, any time your article starts off with the headline "Fergie goes pantsless," you should probably just call it a day and go get drunk. 

Terra Nova, Steven Spielberg's clearinghouse for old leftover Jurassic Park effects, can't seem to get its shit or anything else together. Not only has executive producer David Fury jumped ship, the show's Comic-Con presentation canceled, and its premiere date pushed back to Fall 2011, now it turns out that Fox, which was all gung ho for the series at first, has pink slipped most of the writers in order to avoid paying them between now and the start of production in Summer 2011. Anyone get the feeling that somewhere, Joss Whedon's spider sense is tingling? 

And now, here's Shaquille O'Neal in drag singing a Beyonce song, because I secretly hate each and every one of you.

And finally: Jay-Z says he might run for president in two years, and . . . oh dear . . . oh *snx* deary me . . . *snicker* I just . . . *chortle* . . . I can't . . . *snort*  . . . I mean ... BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! *wipes tear from eye* Ohhh, I'm sorry. it's just been that kind of day.
Well, that's enough punishment for one day, I think. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we OOGA BOOGA BOOGA: