20 December 2010

Okay, here's the deal

Due to holiday scheduling, work scheduling, and your humble blogger all being insane, Notes From The News is going on hiatus until next Monday. I will have alt content throughout the week, and I will have a special year-end post for next Friday.

Back in a few. For now here's a gingerbread AT-AT:

17 December 2010

Your mashup video is not . . . logical

Alt content!

Oldie but a goodie:


I got a head full of UGGGGHHHHHHH that's driving me insane

Sorry folks, I'm trying but I can't get my brain in gear enough today to get any Newsnotes going. I made the mistake of trying to combat my cold with some DayQuil -- you know, the Daytime, Non-Drowsy, Congested-Stuffy Head, Sore Throat, Cough, Aching, Fever, Turns You Into A Fucking Zombie medicine -- and I am in effin' La La Land, kids. It's wearing off, but I still feel like curling up under my desk and burbling quietly to myself until someone reboots my brain. Unless things get significantly better, today is going to be a wash. I'll see about alt content tonight though. Promise.

16 December 2010

Into the blue again, after the money's gone; once in a lifetime, Notes From The News are flowing underground

Evening all! The doctor's visit went well, though I'm now worn out and need to grab a nosh and a nap. Of course since I'm now home watching my son I only get to do one of those things. Ah well, Kay Sarah Sarah and all that. If I got to do what I wanted all the time I'd probably be dead by now anyway. And on that happy thought, here now the news:


The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, dept.: Corpse Bride director Mike Johnson has been tapped by Vanguard Films to helm Oz Wars, a "dark, slick, sexy and dangerous" updating of  . . . No. I just can't do it. I can't. I'm sorry folks. there's nothing funny here. This, this right here, is everything that is wrong and fucked up about Hollywood today. Everything needs to be darker, sexier, edgier. Well fuck you, the Wizard of goddamn Oz is not and should not be any of those things. Different is not necessarily good, sexy isn't necessarily necessary, and there's a reason some stories work best just the way they are. Whoever thought this chit up needs to see the Wizard about a new goddamn brain. 


Torchwood casting news, Lone Starr's Schwartz is bigger than yours edition: Bill Pullman is the latest American actor to join the cast of the venerable British S-F show. Pullman will play Oswald Jones, a convicted murder "boiling with lust and rage." and Cap'n Jack just fell in love a little. 


Has he lost his mind, can he see or is he blind? dept.: It looks like Jon Favreau is out of the Iron Man franchise for good. It's partly because of money, and partly because Favreau wants to move on to new horizons . . . but mostly it seems to be because he has no confidence in Marvel Entertainment's ability to tie the Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, and Avengers franchises together. Because they've only been doing that for the last forty or fifty years, you know. 


Charlie Sheen will not face any charges at all for his hotel room meltdown of recent note, this despite allegedly: a) having paid a woman to have sex with him, which is still illegal the last I checked, b) being publicly intoxicated, which is also illegal, c) destroying hotel property, which is also a crime, and d) by all accounts being coked out of his god damn mind, which is, yep, illegal. So Charlie gets off scott free for activities which, if you or I were caught doing them, would land us in the gow of hoose and keys to same thrown away sight unseen. Well done, Charlie. well done indeed. Thanks for proving once and for all that being a far gone drugged out bag of crap is a victimless crime. 


Don Cheadle's film about the life of Miles Davis -- call it a "biopic" like The Playlist does and MIles would likely rise from the grave and beat your ass -- is one step closer to a greenlight. A script has been written and frequent Davis collaborator Herbie Hancock has been tapped to score. All it needs now is financing, and seriously, I don't see how an investor could go wrong with this one. Unless Miles actually did rise from the grave and beat their asses. 


The Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame is inducting four very worthy nominees this year. They're also inducting Neil Diamond. 


Today in who gives a fuck:

  • Emma Stone says simulated sex is fun. In other news, Emma Stone clearly hasn't had real sex yet. 
  • Miley Cyrus is not all that concerned with the now-infamous bong ripping video that's been making the rounds and making people far too crazy; she says she's just young and having fun. And once she gets tu dumb and full of cum, there'll be a much more troubling video for people to worry about. (WHAT. She's eighteen now, sheesh.)  
  • Angelina Jolie says she was touched to be nominated for a Golden Globe for best comedy/musical in The Tourist. What she didn't add is that the people who nominated the film as a comedy are probably touched, too. 


Robert De Niro has taken time out from completely destroying his legacy -- sorry, promoting Little Fockers -- to confirm that he, Martin Scorcese, Joe Pesci and Al Pacino are making The Irishmantogether. The movie, about legendary mob hitman Frank Sheeran, should start production next year. Hopefully they ordered enough scenery for Pacino to munch on. 


Universal and Zombie Dino De Laurentis are producing a new version of Firestarter, because . . . um . . . well, nobody's really sure, actually. Also? they want to give is "more edge"  . . . because a movie about a little girl who can blow shit up with her mind just isn't edgy enough. Maybe it needs more sparkly teenybop vampires, I hear that's considered edgy. Explosions and fires are so played out, you know . . . 


This just in: Mel Gibson will show us his beaver in March. 


 . . . and that's it from my end. Hope your end is feeling good -- ask the person who's feeling it to be absolutely sure, Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we HADOUKEN!






Later!

Hey all

Off to a doctor's appointment. I have Newsnotes ready to go for tonight, and I will post them as soon as I get in the door. For now content yourself with alt content:


See you soon!

15 December 2010

Alt content!

Sorry

I won't be able to post the Notes From The News tonight. An unbelievable slow news day combined with a head cold has left me uncharacteristically uninspired, and I'd rather maintain what laughably passes for quality around here than subject you to stuff which, on a second and third reading, reads like crap. I'll catch y'all tomorrow.

14 December 2010

Tried to warn you 'bout Geno and Daddy G, but I can't seem to get to you through the Notes From The News

Winter is upon us, the nights are long, the days are cold, and the fireplace is roaring. So throw a couple of logs at the mailman, and settle back with a cup of hot blonde, and we'll have a look at the wide wide world of wonder that is today's infotainment product. Onward!

Ohhhhh mercy. The Black-Eyed Peas are getting sued for copyright infringement. Again. Following two separate suits in October from unknowns claiming the Peas stole hooks form their demos, now another songwriter/producer has stepped forward claiming Will.I.Am and co. sampled his music without permission, going so far as to forge his signature on a licensing agreement to get the sample. The victim this time? Parliament/Funkadelic mastermind George Clinton. Doctor Funkenstein claims the Peas approached him to use a sample from "(Not Just) Knee Deep" in their song "Shut Up," but Clinton, having taste, says he refused . . . and that the Peas went ahead and used it anyway, faking his signature in the process. Now however stoned George may or may not be at any given moment, he is fierce about his copyrights, and I am more willing to listen to his side of the story on this, especially as the Peas are already being sued by others for pulling the same shit. But it's up to a court to decide who's right in this, not me. That said, fuck the Black Peas with a big fucking fuckety fuckstick. 

Hugh Jackman almost killed himself making an entrance via zip-line onto Oprah Winfrey's "Bringing Trash TV Down Under" series of shows. This is why directors don't let actors do their own stunts. Unless it's Mark Hamill, in which case nobody really cares. 

Once-promising starlet Thora Birch was fired from her starring role in an off-Broadway revival of Dracula last Friday.The cause was apparently her father/manager/bodyguard/creepazoid stalker Jack, who is alleged to have threatened one of the other actors for giving her a back-rub during a scene. This isn't the first time Jack has made trouble for Thora, but it may be one of the last; word is that unless Thora ditches her former porn-star dad and gets new representation, she's soon going to be unemployable on either coast. Which is a shame, as there just aren't enough stories about fathers giving actors direction on how to fuck their daughters during sex scenes. And now if you'll excuse me, I need to go take a shower and never, ever write of this creepy-assed mothafugga again. 

Site favorite Courtney Enlow has some thoughts about Miley Cyrus' recent bong-rippery, and what it really  means in terms in terms of young Miley's career and demographic, that hits far closer to the target than it has any right to. I'm going to have to rethink how I cover the former Ms. Montana. Or at the very least try to be more sympathetic to her stoned skank ass -- oops, sorry, Miley. 

Agitpop duo Das Racist have been denied entry to England for what they call "sticklerism on the part of UK Customs regarding paperwork," which is a funny little euphemism for "we couldn't be bothered to get our work visas," and are unable to make UK concert dates happen as a result. Das Racist has taken to its website to claim they were deported (which it wasn't since they never actually entered the country) because the UK government doesn't like their political views (which apparently consist of a low opinion of egg-and-cress sammies and digestive biscuits), and generally carrying on like a pair of self-important twats, which is about what you'd expect from a pair of Wesleyan grads who can't even describe their own music without sounding like pretentious goobers. Which leaves me with one thing to say: Well done, England! 

The Golden Globe nominations are out. Go have a look at the list and laugh at the choices. I'll wait. 

Joe Pantoliano gives a powerful, moving interview with the A. V. Club about mental illness, and his advocacy work in changing the way people view the mentally ill. If click just one of my links today, make it this one. Or Joey Pants is gonna find you and fuck you the fuck up, capisce? 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • NBC is developing a drama about Playboy bunnies in the 1960s because HURR BOOBIES HURRR DURR HURRRDEDURRRDURRR 
  • George Clooney has a big tip -- sorry, is a big tipper. Would have been a better story the other way. 
  • This just in: Elizabeth Hurley cheated on her husband. With a cricket player. In other news, Elizabeth Hurley obviously doesn't give a shit who she sleeps with any more. Go for it guys!

Profiles in courage, dept.: People magazine is reporting that Jennifer Grey had surgery last week to remove a ruptured disc form her back -- she apparently suffered the injury on the first night of the two-night Dancing With the Stars finale. Grey was reportedly in so much pain the morning after the injury that she could hardly move -- yet somehow she pulled it together and came back to dance not once, but twice on the second night, and took home the championship. This on top of dancing through pain and injury for the entire season. Jennifer Grey is fifty years old. Grey's next project will be to swim the English Channel while carrying a team of Chinese gymnasts on her back and towing the QEII via a rope between her teeth. 

Mekhi Phifer has been cast as one of the leads in the new American production of Torchwood. He will play a CIA agent with a sense of humor that can, apparently, kill people. Word is Cap'n Jack Harkness is already turned on and aimed like a guided missile of sexual gratification in Mekhi's direction. And that's just the first five minutes of the first episode!

Nicolas Cage watch, dignity, always dignity edition: Jor-El was outside a Romanian nightclub (because duh, where else would you expect to run into Francis Coppola's batshit nephew), when someone apparently said something that set all the rage in him a-boilin'. (And knowing Nic, that something could have been anything from "Hey, The Sorcerer's Apprentice was a gigantic ball of shit and Elmer's Glue-All!" to "Hello, Mr. Cage. Would you like a glass of wine?") And when the rage does bubble, Nic makes trouble. In this case he went absolutely apeshit, screaming incoherently about respecting his eyes and getting in cars and walking away, and most of all dying for honor, because he will fucking DIE because of honor, he will fucking DIE right NOW, and HEEEEEE did it ALLLLL for the glory of LOOOOOOVVVVEEE! 

And that's it for this extra-wordy edition of the Notes From The News. I'll be back tomorrow with more magnificent madness. But now is the time on Nighthawk postcards when we break the ice a little:


Later!

13 December 2010

Tried to please her, she only played the Notes From The News

Evening all! Sorry to leave you in the lurch on Friday; my schedule got the better of me and I wound up with no time to note any news or blog any links or even to inter any nets until very late in the day. My bad. In order to make up for it, I'm dropping in some extra content today. Enjoy!

So, all the stuff I was telling you about Ridley Scott's Alien prequel last week? Complete and utter bullshit of the purest ray serene. But at least you can rest easy in the knowledge that at least I give enough of a shit to tell you it's bullshit. Unlike the government, which I guess assumes you know things are bullshit already. 

Won't somebody think of the children, dept.: Congrats to Gabe and Tycho at Penny Arcade for doing something their eternal nemesis Jack Thompson has never done and could never do: Actually help children. Their charity Child's Play has raised over one million dollars for children's hospitals this year. Good job, guys. And thanks for proving that gamers aren't just social reprobates who like blowing shit up. Though that can be fun too.

I don't want to go on the cart, dept.: Jazz legend James Moody died of pancreatic cancer this weekend at the age of 85. Moody was best known for his song "Moody's Mood for Love," one of the all time jazz records. Our condolences to Moody's family during this time. 

I'm sorry, Marc Webb. You can't get back into my good graces that easily. I don't care how many of the Spider-Man supporting cast you squeeze into your movie at this point, it's not going to work. You blew it by doubling down on the villains and going all lame on me. Sorry. Won't work. Not even Flash Thompson can win me over now. Nice try, though. 

The eclectic Elephant 6 music collective is taking its show on the road in a series of "Holiday Surprise" concerts -- in February and March. So they're either going by a long out-of-date Julian calendar or the holidays in question are Presidents' Day and St Patrick's Day. Or they're just fookin' weeeeeiiiiirrrrrrrd.

Roger Ebert reminds us of what we already knew: The MPAA ratings system is ancient, arbitrary, and about as useful as a wet sock in the middle  of the macaroni and cheese. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Piers Morgan is banning Madonna from his new CNN show because she's "too boring." In response Madonna looked up from her piles of moolah and said, "Who is this little man and why have we not bought his ass?"
  • Leighton Meester says she's leaving Gossip Girl in two years, at which point she'll be too old by Hollywood standards to convincingly play ANYONE, EVER. 
  • Kate Gosselin has a new shag hairdo, but it doesn't matter because nobody wants to shag her anyway. 
  • You know how I know Billy Ray Cyrus is sad about his daughter ripping salvia hits from a bong? He told the entire world via Twitter, just like any other responsible non attention whore parent trying very hard not to fuck up his daughter for life. can't wait till he has "the talk" with her via her Facebook page. 

The latest Reese Witherspoon prepackaged processed vitamin fortified romantic comedy film product cost $120 million dollars to produce. Imagine how much it would have cost if it had been any good! 

Ja Rule has been sentenced to two years in prison for gun possession. Because when guns are outlawed, only the outlaws will have stupid names. 

The Los Angeles Film Critics Association, the Boston Society Of Film Critics, and the New York Film Critics Online have all clicked "Like" for The Social Network. GET IT? IT'S A FACEBOOK THING WITH THE BOOK AND THE FACE AND THE LIKING AND IT'S FUNNY HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA someone kill me now please. 

The Transporter is coming to TV, which could be awesome. Taken is also being developed as a series, which is just damned silly. I mean, the Transporter stuff is more or less interchangeable chase scenes. What are they going to do with Taken to change things up from week to week? "Oh my God, my roommate's been kidnapped!" "I will find them and hurt them with blowtorches and pliers." Two weeks later: "Oh my God, the airline lost my luggage!" "I will find them and break their fingers with a melon baller and a popsicle stick." "Oh my god, this guy cut me off in traffic!" "I will . . . you know what, fuck this, I'm getting a beer." 


And that's that. Hope your day is good to you and that your evening is even better. Meanwhile, now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we find out who's been getting into the steroids:



Later!

09 December 2010

I've seen fire and I've seen rain, I've seen Notes From The News that I thought would never end

Pop quiz, Hotshot: What do you get when your Thursday is more like a Monday? Answer: I dunno, but the attitude it engenders has probably bled over just slightly into today's bumpers. Be warned! Abandon all enter, ye who hope here. And all that happy crappy. Here now the news:

Christina Aguilera is blaming a hacker for leaking racy and semi-nude photos of her onto the internet. Aguilera claims the photos were stolen from her stylist's account, and that they were used in a "personal exchange" between the stylist and Aguilera. There is no word as to whether the aforementioned exchange involved the use of battery operated devices and various "warming" oils.

Florida Governor Charlie Crist, in the type of magnanimous gesture only a lame-duck politician can afford to indulge himself in, has persuaded the state's Board of Executive Clemency to agree to issue a pardon for Jim Morrison for his 1969 arrest, after a notorious concert where Morrison allegedly exposed himself to the audience. And if you're sensing a theme in today's news notes regarding the private parts of celebrities, I assure you it is not intentional. Now, who's the next naked moron in the news? 

The BBC adaptation of Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency has a trailer out, and though it isn't as instantly compelling as Sherlock was, it looks sufficiently Gently-esque to possibly get me to watch it if it airs here in the states. Though really I just want to read The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul again, because god damn it that is a good book.  

Zombie Michael Jackson has released his first video from beyond the grave -- and it is, perhaps predictably, a mawkish, over-sentimental tear-jerker, not even redeemed by the laughable Akon overdubs. Commence yawning . . . now. 

Watch out, celebrities. Ricky Gervais is coming back to the Golden Globe awards, and he is aiming at your ass, or your botoxed lips, or whatever other portion of your anatomy presents itself. In short: yer fucked. And we are amused.

The Sundance festival has announced its short film slate, and as usual there's a ripe crop of WTF to be had. From Julia Stiles meeting her boyfriend's wife in Neil LaBute's Sexting to Tim and Eric's The Terrys, about a couple of guys who get wasted and conceive a child (like you do), there's no shortage of head scratchers. But the biggest "buh?" for me has to be Adam Yauch's Fight For Your Right Revisited, which is a semi-remake of the Beastie Boys' original video starring Elijah Wood, Danny McBride, Seth Rogen, Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly, and Jack Black. Which is very nice, but as far as I'm concerned it's more evidence that the Beasties would rather do just about anything than actually work on the album they were supposed to have released last year. Flame on, I'm gone. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Liv Tyler says she doesn't know much about dating. I feel a disturbance in the Force. As if millions of male voices suddenly cried out "I CAN SHOW HER ALL ABOUT THAT HURR DURR HURRDURRDURR!!!" and were suddenly silenced. Except for the soft moans. 
  • Gwynneth Paltrow is in New York, and complains that she's freezing her ass off. To which I would like to respond: Fuck you, you self-important waffle of twat. You know who's freezing their asses off out there? Elderly people who can't afford to pay their heat bills and/or whose landlords can't be bothered to fix the fucking furnaces. So load your non-freezing ass out of your nice five star hotel room and into your nice warm limo and GO FUCK YOURSELF. 
  • Angelina Jolie says she wouldn't mind having more kids. After all, there are symbolic orphans in every country, and she hasn't collected herself a full set yet. 

The Hobbit cast death watch, oh I give the fuck up already edition: Reports are surfacing today that Peter Jackson and Wingnut Films, in a desperate gambit to draw in fans of the original movie who never read Tolkien and a move calculated to exasperate and drive away Tolkien purists, are close to signing Orlando Bloom to reprise his role as Legolas in the two-part epic. Because Jackson won't be satisfied until he shits on every last bit of the considerable goodwill that the LotR movies made for him. As a fan of the movies and of the books, all I can say is FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Despite stories claiming the contrary, Ridley Scott's two part Alien prequel will start filming in March of next year. Scott, who has apparently run out of good and original ideas for the time being, is to be called Paradise and the wish list of actors includes Nomi Rapace (but nobody knows how to pronounce her name so they won't call her), Michael Fassbender (who reportedly wants more money than he's actually worth), and Michelle Yeoh, who Scott wants for the part of a tough-but-sexy stock cliche character called Vickers. Because tons of Chinese women with noticeable accents have last names like that. I get the idea that the only number Scott doesn't have in his Rolodex these days is Verisimilitude's. 

Once-famous, now-irrelevant hair metal media whore Tommy Lee has sent a very very stern and angry letter to Sea World, demanding that they stop masturbating killer whales with cow vaginas full of water. Then Tommy realized he was just flashing back to his wedding night with Pamela Anderson.

And that's it from this end of the asylum. Tomorrow's column may be a little late as I'm running an errand in the afternmoon, but I'll do my best to post it ASAP. Until then, have a good one, and remember to be careful while surfing the Internet:



You never know what kind of malware is out there.

Later!

08 December 2010

Effect without a cause, sub-atomic laws, scientific pause, The Notes From The News

Greetings, fellow webizens! Hope your day has been good to you. Mine has . . . well . . . it's been. Not bad, not good, just there. Kind of a bad time of year for good stories. Nonetheless I got out my good shovel and my bad shoes and I dug up some delightful dung for you to pinch your nose at. Regardez!

And you will know her by her trail of Steadman, dept.: Oprah Winfrey, who is kicking off the 25th and (thankfully) final season of her daytime bread-and-circus-sideshow-act by taking an entire studio audience to Australia with her (I shit you not), has officially landed Down Under. Her first act? Going on Aussie TV and talking about watching koalas mating. Stay classy, Oprah.

The Wachowski Bros. are developing -- that is to say, trying to develop -- that is to say, talking about developing -- a modern, "urban" version of Robin Hood, to be called, simply, Hood, because hey! Original! The brothers W. are talking to actors already, including Will Smith, because you know, urban! Given that the Wachowskis' last movie was the universally reviled Speed Racer, if I were the Fresh Prince I'd be hauling my ass to the nearest Scientology compound post-haste to get away from this shit.

The trailer for Showtime's new show The Borgias has hit, and the only thing I can say about it is that I can't wait for Bill Donohue to mistakenly and absolutely lose his shit about it. 

The Hobbit cast deathwatch update, WTF edition: Wingut Films is reporting that Cate Blanchett has been signed to reprise her role as Galadriel in Peter Jackson's upcoming adaptation of Tolkien's novel. Which is all fine and good except that GALADRIEL NEVER FUCKING APPEARS IN THE HOBBIT GOD DAMN IT. This is a continuity blortch on the level of having the Minas Tirith signal fires on top of mountains so tall that the air is too thin for a fire to burn properly. And don't even get me started on Haldir showing up at Helm's Deep with a couple hundred of his clones in tow. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go buy a Lovely Bones DVD just so I can burn the fucking thing. 

Johnny Depp is heartbroken, heartbroken as a clubbed harp seal he tells ya, about losing People magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" distinction to Ryan Reynolds, Ryan Reynolds' poufy hair, and Ryan Reynolds' studly studly abs. But who needs all that anyway, when Tim Burton keeps throwing money at you just to act fey in someone else's work? 

AV Club has its annual list of the year's best music out. Go and check up on what you missed -- or, if you're my age, read down the list of names with gradually increasing dread, and the dawning knowledge that you've finally gotten so old that popular music has left your wrinkled ass in the dust for good. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Katy Perry is changing her name. Now she just has to figure out how she's going to fit "talentless hypocritical skankmanimous hose beast" in a single line on her business cards. 
  • Well known actor, man about town and eater of entire sushi restaurant menus Jeremy Piven has started dating some random blonde chick who was the fiance of some other actor dude who was on The Hills. I'll keep on this story and let you know if anything happens that will wake me up from my scotch induced indifferent stupor. 
  • Oh, before I forget: Celine Dion had twins some time in the recent past, and congratumalations to her on that. Bonus: She's named the two boys Nelson and Eddy. Which is just so goddamned odd and retro vintage awesome that it almost broke the story out of the WGAF bullet points and into the regular column. But her voice hurts my ears, so it stays here. 

Adam Sandler and Kevin James are making another movie together, because seriously, what else are they suited for besides this kind of unfunny, pointless, drool-inducing, not-even-better-than-gouging-
your-eyes-out-with-a-melon-baller shit? Valet Guys. Yay boo. I can just feel my IQ dropping already. 

Wesley Snipes: Finally on his way to jail. Osama Bin Laden? Still at large. 

Rapper Redman says the How High sequel is probably never going to happen. He and Method Man would love to do it but yo, they can't remember where they put the script and shit, maaaannnnnnn . . . . 

And that's the news. And now, the Wookie.


Later! 

07 December 2010

So you think you're a Romeo, playing a part in the Notes From The News

Greetings, felicitations, salutations, exhalations and mastu -- wait, no. Strike that last one from the record. Thanks. I suppose I should just move on before I embarrass myself, but then that would mean there would be no Newsnotes and I would have to write about something else. Like maybe finish my next Track By Track column (yeah I know, don't remind me, it's still on the way as soon as I have two minutes to rub together.) And since we certainly can't be having any of that around here, bump up on some bumpers: 

Katy Perry was on The Simpsons on Sunday, in a "live action" puppet segment that was apparently supposed to poke fun at her canceled guest spot on Sesame Street. Except it mostly seemed to revolve around bawdy puppet sex jokes and culminated (if that's the word) with Moe "accidentally" shoving his face into her vagoo. I report this not to show you what a classless act Katy Perry is, but to show you how far the once-mighty Simpsons has fallen. Please, please please please let's stop watching this show, and maybe Fox will finally put us out of its misery. 

Neil Patrick Harris will be hosting Spike TV's Video Game Awards, which is quite a coup for Spike, and probably a step down for Neil. 

Alan Cumming (we will now pause for thirty seconds of childish giggling over that last name because HURR DURR it's the internet) gives a great interview to the AV Club where he talks about Shakespeare, Smurfs, being out as an actor in conservative (yes, really) Hollywood, and how being famous can get you free shit. 

Speaking of the AV Club: Stop being nice to Billy Corgan, you guys. Seriously, just stop it. You're only going to encourage him. 

This just in: well-known show-killer Eliza Dushku has helpfully killed her next show, Bird Dog, by simply leaving the production before TNT had a chance to pay for any episodes. Dushku's next move will be to get her next six shows canceled all at once by simply thinking about being in them.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • There's a so-far unsubstantiated rumor going around that Kim "Kim Kardashian" Kardashian is pregnant . . . and that the father of the child is none other than your friend and his, Mr. Kanye West. If true, this child has the portential to be the Kwisatz Haderach of obnoxious behavior. (Update: Kim K is not having Yeezy's baby. Thanks be to God.) 
  • Kevin Smith: still a self-righteous assbag who thinks flying in this day and age ought to be a customer friendly experience. yeah, good luck with that, Kev. 
  • That skanky chick on Jersey Shore -- no, the other one . . . no, the other other one . . . is demanding that her ex-boyfriend and former manager (because it's always a good idea to combine those) return certain, um, derogatory photos of her that he has in his possession. And believe it or not, we here at Nighthawk Postcards would like to join her in demanding their return. We have no desire to see nude photos of this skankmanimous hose beast smeared all over the internet. There are plenty of other ipecacs out there as it is. 
 
And now, here's Hayden Christiansen looking constipated in the trailer for his new movie, Vanishing on 7th Street, which is about . . . um . . . well, to tell you the truth, it's probably about 90 minutes more of Hayden Christiansen than I really ever wanted to see in my life.

For the record, it took one dude with $500,000 worth of disposable income and a charitable bent to get all those attention whores narcissists "celebrities" back on Twitter. We're glad the whole thing has ended in a beneficial manner for Alicia Keys' charity . . . but it is worth noting that where AIDS is concerned, a million bucks is a drop in the fucking bucket, especially in Africa. And please note that while the kids still need help, Ryan Seacrest at least has moved on to more important things.

People talk all the time about what a pernicious, terrible influence TV is on children and how it may sway them to do senseless and silly things. They don't tell you about what it does to the adults. Please join me in my new public awareness group, STOP DOING STUPID SHIT BECAUSE YOU LIKE TV SHOWS. Because a brain is a terrible thing to turn into a pile of cheezy goo. 

And that's it from me for this round of Newsnotes. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we lose your files:



Later!

06 December 2010

This is no one night stand, it's a real occasion; close your eyes and you'll be the Notes From The News

It's Monday!  And I'm just as thrilled by that as you are. Here now the news:

That's it, everybody out of the goddamned spider-pool. I was willing to follow along with Marc Webb on this whole Spider-Man reboot deal, even when he cast Rhys Ifans as The Lizard and Sally Field as Aunt May. But, seriously? Casting Peter Parker's parents? And the villain will now be -- Proto-Goblin? Whoever the fuck he is? Yeah. No thanks. I'm now officially waiting for the video release 

FX has canceled 'Terriers," which is a shame, because I'd seen critics raving about it but hadn't seen it yet. And apparently I wasn't alone in not seeing it, as the show is now the lowest-rated first-year drama in the entire history of television. I'd apologize to the producers, writers and actors, but let's face it -- I don't know who any of them are. (Like any of them know who I am, HA HA HA I WILL DIE UNKNOWN AND OBSCURE AND IT'S FUNNY DAMMIT)  

Former Dora the Explorer voice Caitlin Sanchez has withdrawn her lawsuit against Nickelodeon, MTV and Viacom over improper compensation, after the parties reached an undisclosed agreement. This could be anything from a renegotiated contract to a pizza party and we'd never know. Nor would most of us give a rancid rat's asshole if we did. This has been your Not-Really-News News of the day. Stay tuned now for "Let's Injure Dave!" 

In further news about Kirsten Dunst's boobies (see last Friday's Newsnotes if you're really that interested), the actress will appear nude in Lars Von Trier's next torture porn film dressed up as an "artistic statement" Melancholia, and adds that we should "get used to" seeing her in her  birthday suit. See? That's torture porn right there. 

Pop Quiz, hotshot: What do the movies Once,  The King's Speech, Blue Valentine, and Scary Movie all have in common? Let me answer for you: They all received egregiously arbitrary ratings from the MPAA. I would say more about this subject, but I'm afraid the MPAA would then rate my blog NC-17 and nobody would be able to find it at Blockbuster. 

Beating an undead horse, dept.: It was only a matter of time before someone took a look at the success of the Twilight movies and thought, "Hey, wasn't there some other done-to-death vampire thing that was all about romance and eroticism, only it was passably well written?" At which point someone called Anne Rice. Now it looks as though there may be a reboot of Rice's Vampire Chronicles series in the works, and a possible candidate to play the vampire Lestat is . . . Robert Downey, Jr. No, I'm serious, stop fucking laughing, dammit! 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Josh Duhamel says he learned his lesson after being kicked off a plane after being a complete and utter dickbag to a flight attendant who told him to turn off his Blackberry during a flight: "I've learned that it's best to always turn them off." So . . . he's still a dickbag, in other words. 
  • Amber Heard? Is a lesbian. When it gets to Amber seen being a lesbian, wake me up.  
  • Chelsea Handler has some choice words for Angelina Jolie, and none of them are "Merry Christmas." When Chelsea was done, Jennifer Aniston bought her a vodka distillery. 

Robert Downey, Jr. plays everyone in the universe, dept.: I swear, the guy is trying to take on the title of hardest-working man in show business. Now he's linked to an untitled musical comedy for Warners, which is described as the tale of a pair of Broadway songwriters whose big-break musical eats the pipe on opening night. No word on whether Downey will attempt to master an Irish accent in order to convincingly play Bono, but you never know . . . 

There is no truth to the rumor that the government has shut down Tumblr for 19 hours because they found a picture of Julian Assange's cat on there. NO TRUTH WHATSOEVER, DO YOU HEAR? Julian doesn't have a cat. And even if he did he wouldn't post pictures of her hacking into the DoD database on Tumblr. It's just not done. In other news, neither is there any truth to the new rumor that just cropped up a second ago that this is all an attempt by me to start a vicious and unsubstantiated rumor about Tumblr. In other other news, I seem to have been permanently banned from Tumblr now. I don't know why.

Finally: Oh sweet mother of fuck. There are no words for the horror I am about to unleash upon you and for that, I apologize. But I'm going to unleash it anyway. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I give you the atrocity that is the trailer for The Beaver. Jodie Foster, you have done a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD thing here. Say, did I mention how bad it was? Because it's bad. 


And that's all I can stand on a Monday. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcrds when we tell you to go blow:


Oh, that's where Lindsay Lohan left her stash!

Later!

04 December 2010

Reety-Awrighty

Frank Zappa, who died on this day in 1993, is the man who composed the following piece of music, which he is seen conducting here:



This was taped the year before he died. And it's gratifying to see him up there like that, creating something amazing, because that was what Frank always did. From the beginning of his career to the end, Frank Zappa never did the expected. Even at his most predictable, he was unpredictable. He was a master satirist, a poet of the crude, and a composer who made music do things you wouldn't even think it could do.

If there is one figure in music that I regret no longer having around, this is the guy. I miss ya, Frank.

03 December 2010

I don't care about your past, I just want our Notes From The News to last

Good Friday everyone! Well, I am happy to report that for the first time in a while, we've made it through a full week of blog postery and tom foolery (whoever the hell Tom is), and that despite having the worst head cold I've had in a while. So three chairs and a tiger for me. And some newsnotes for you!

Showtime has picked up Dexter for a sixth season, meaning Michael C. Hall won't have to worry about being typecast as a genial murderer for at least another year.

Sony is producing a "contemporary" take on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein that they say will hew closer to the original novel . . . which is a pity, as Shelley's novel is only occasionally readable; the rest of the time it's a didactic mish-mash. Which, funnily enough, is also an accurate description of almost every cable news network.

This just in: the movie version of Marmaduke is actually a secret plot by Hollywood Liberals to disenfranchise whites and prevent them from owning property. I know it's true because I heard it from Andrew Pendergraft. And if you can't trust some random racist dude, who the hell can you trust?

In related news, Top Chef hostess Padma Lakshmi was supposed to be on the cover of TV Guide this week, but someone went and replaced the dark-skinned Indian beauty with some random white chick who kinda' looks like her. Nobody's quite sure why they did this, unless maybe someone thought they were supposed to have Padme on the cover instead and thought, "Shit, she doesn't look anything like Natalie Portman!" (Oh come on, I've been dying to make this joke since I started the damn website!)

Josh Duhamel lived up to the first syllable of his last name yesterday when he was ejected from a New York-Kentucky flight for refusing to turn off his Blackberry -- he was too busy texting, you see. Which is always a good excuse for behaving like an asshole to someone. Which Duhamel apparently did to the flight attendant who tried to get him to shut the device off. At which point the plane was returned to the terminal and Duhamel was removed from the equation and hopefully given several invasive TSA pat-downs for his trouble.

Robert Duvall has now gone on record as calling the performances in Stanley Kubrick's films as being the "worst" he's ever seen in movies. Which is pretty big talk coming from the guy who directed, wrote and starred in the absolutely dire Assassination Tango. 

Aaron Eckhart has finally, fully confirmed that Harvey Dent/Two-Face is dead and will not appear in The Dark Knight, no tagbacks, neener neener neener. So we're left with Thomas Hardy, New Orleans, and a metric assload of speculation that Christopher Nolan just loves, because he will delve below all of our expectations and blow them right out of the water . . . or WILL he? BRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHHHMMMMMMM

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • The Kardashian Media Whore Experience went on Conan last night, possibly an indication of how desperate Conan already is for guests. And it turns out that at least one of the Kardashian girls puts mayonnaise on her bajingo. And no, you will never look at a roast beef sandwich the same way again. 
  • Ashton Kutcher is planning legal action against Vivid Entertainment if they use his name in conjunction with his alleged mistress Brittney Jones's sex tape. Vivid Entertainment, meanwhile, is planning on locking itself in a dark room with some hand lotion and a box of tissues. But they were probably doing that anyway.
  • The Bieber has a mustache. And oh my god, I DEFY you to look at this picture without a) bursting into laughter, b) doing a bad Inspector Clousseau impression or c) both.

Mila Kunis says filming a sex scene with Justin Timberlake was awkward because of all the people watching and bits and pieces hanging out. And then there was the film crew.

Hey, knuckleheads! Remember that Three Stooges movie that was going to be directed by the Farrelly Brothers, and which was supposed to star Jim Carrey, Benicio del Toro, and Sean Penn? Whaddaya mean "No?" *pokes you in the eye* Well, turns out the property has been purchased from the ailing MGM by 20th Century Fox. The Farrellys are still set to direct, but they're going to have to re-cast the leads. And from the sound of things they'll probably take anyone who has a pulse at this point. Which could lead to a trainwreck of epic proportions. It's sabatoogie, I tell ya!  

The Staten Island mansion used in the filming of The Godfather is up for sale. The asking price is about $2.9 million. Horse heads not included. 

And that's the news. Next up, another fun-filled episode of Driving With Gary Busey!



. . . or not.

Later!


02 December 2010

I close my eyes and I keep seeing things, rainbow waterfalls, sunny Notes From The News dreams

Afterevening, everyone. Been a good day overall; cold is slowly going away (though it seems to be hitting my little boy a bit harder, poor kid) and the weather has gone from shitty to cold but clear, which is fine with me. Things could always be worse; for instance, I could be trapped on an elevator with a coked-up Robin Williams and Dana Carvey. But enough about my nightmares; on with the news:

So you remember yesterday I was bitching about the "Keep A Child Alive" charity campaign where a bunch of celebrity types called attention to themselves by "disappearing" from Twitter and other social media until $1 million is raised? Yeah, they're not even a fifth of the way there yet. Keep up the good work, attention whores. You're keeping them alive!

The Grammy Awards nominations were announced yesterday, and I'd like to join just about every other slightly astonished entertainment blog in congratulating Eminem on his surprising and sudden return to relevance.

I was born on a pirate ship, dept.: Turns out that Johnny Depp was not the first choice to play Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. Disney originally wanted . . . drumroll, please . . . Hugh Jackman.Who actually would have been a pretty good, albeit safe choice. Unless he chose to play Sparrow as Peter Allen, which would have been fucking glorious.

About the only director in Hollywood capable of actually adapting Thomas Pynchon is considering doing exactly that. Paul Thomas Anderson is interested in filming Pynchon's pot-addled detective hippie noir Inherent Vice, with Robert Downey, Jr. as the favorite to play the lead role of perpetually stoned shamus "Doc" Sportello. Word is this is happening because Anderson's Scientology movie The Master disintegrated in his hands, and he's eager to get back some momentum. Or at the very least to see if he can score some good smoke during preproduction.

She don't remember the Queen of Soul, dept.: Aretha Franklin is set to undergo major surgery today for an undisclosed medical condition. Here's hoping she pulls through with flying colors and is back on her feet belting out sweet soul music as soon as possible.

So there was a bunch of talk in the media yesterday about Britney Spears' ex-husband -- no, not Cletus McFederline, the other douchebag she was married to for about 55 hours as an apparent drunken lark -- claiming that Britney's current boyfriend and manager was beating her. Radar Online said they had tapes of a phone conversaton where Britney alleges this, and the Star did an entire feature story on it. Well, guess what? Turns out the tapes and the story are about as real as Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and Justin Bieber's talent. And Britney is so pissed she's ready to chew up nails and spit out thumbtacks. Lawsuits commence . . . now.

Uh oh Hollywood Star Whackers, the jig is up. You've been exposed, man. Exposed for all the world to see. WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE NOW. And we will not stand idly by while you force Randy Quaid into your little bitty molds of death and take the money he doesn't have because you stole it from him, oh you bastards you. We see it all now. The secret takeovers of Evi Quaid's phone. The phony identity set up to intercept their mail. The Dairy Queen in Texas. Radar Online being owned by the cops. IT'S ALL PART OF THE SAME CONSPIRACY. You're taking Randy's money and running him out of his livelihood. After all, there's no possible way he could be drugged out of his mind and delusional. All he's ever done was smoke some pot. And do a little coke. And by a little we mean a small mountain. And then there's all the Ambien Evi and he did that one time. But he's TOTALLY in command of himself. Not like you. You guys got David Carradine and Michael Jackson and Beppo the Wonder Monkey but YOU WON'T GET RANDY AND EVY FUCKING QUAID, MAN. They've gone to the media. And the media has told us. And now we all know. You fuckers are on notice, man. Call your Dairy Queens and marshal your Peanut Buster Parfait Forces while you can, because soon we will descend on you like a great big descending thing and then you will be fucked, oh yes you will. Or maybe we'll just all realize that Randy and Evi are out of their fucking minds and go have a beer instead. That seems a lot more likely to me.

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Whitney Huston's teenaged daughter has been photographed drunk off her ass on Four Loko,  smoking, and making out with women. We will now pause a moment to pretend to be outraged while pretending we are not secretly aroused. 
  • Kirsten Dunst breaks through the Botox long enough to talk to Vanity Fair in a new interview. In it she talks about a nude scene with Ryan Gosling in their upcoming movie All Good Things, in which she gives him head in the shower. Which is great, except that scene was cut from the movie. So why are we discussing this again? Oh, right: titillation. Sorry, lost my mind for a minute there. 
  • Tony Parker and Eva Longoria -- who are divorcing -- met for lunch. Based on Tony's expression in the photo I'm guessing they probably weren't talking about puppies and unicorns. Unless that's part of the prenup.

And now for something completely different: Rupert Grint, drunk off his ass and wearing makeup, looking for bagels. Or "beigels" as the British call them, continuing their excellent tradition of inserting extra vowels into words in order to cheat at Scrabble. Seriously; there's an entire vowel movement going on over there. (WHAT.)

First they didn't have the bamboo umbrellas for the drinks, and now snails on the plate! dept.: Note to the 92nd St. Y: Next time you feature "An Evening With Steve Martin" while Martin is on a promotional tour for a book in which he talks about his vast art collection, you might consider it logical that he probably isn't interested in talking about Inspector Clousseau or in putting the damn arrow through his head. Just a thought.

So the disastrous preview performances of Spider-Man: Turn Out Your Pockets were not enough to deter Peter Billingsley, better known as Ralphie from A Christmas Story -- because now he's adapting his meal ticket into a Broadway musical as well. Ohhhhhhhhhh fudge. Somebody put my eye out.

Well played, IMDb. Well played indeed. 

Finally, we here at Nighthawk Postcards want to take a moment to note that Michael Douglas has finished with radiation treatment and says he has about an 80% chance of recovering from the throat cancer he was diagnosed with earlier this year. He'll find out for sure in January, and one assumes the rest of us will find out shortly thereafter. We wish Michael the best of luck in his diagnosis and hope for eventual remission for him. We also want to express our heartfelt admiration for the man for holding it together and not giving in to depression and despair during what has to have been an extremely trying time. Most especially we want to note how heartening it is that this has drawn his family -- already pretty tightly knit -- even closer together. And while normally we end the Newsnotes with a silly joke and a funny anigif, today is all about Michael, his wife, and his kids: 



That's where it's at, man. God bless, and here's wishing you all many more years of that happiness. 
  
And all of you as well. 

Later! 

01 December 2010

Bonetti's Padawan has learned well

This is quite simply one of the most awesome things I have ever seen on the nets of inter:




Link for those of you who prefer to see things like this at the source:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYVQooRSlzg&feature=player_embedded

I dreamed I saw the Notes From The News last night, alive as you or me

Hey hey, holy mackerel, no doubt about it, Hump Day has humped itself along into Hump Eve, and Eve was kind enough not to press charges, so here we are again with our usual compendium of cool and crazy. And rather than keep you waiting, here now the news:

Lindsay Lohan is being seriously considered for the next season of Dancing With the Stars. This could lead to an awesome comeback for LiLo, or public humiliation and an eventual relapse. Or Dina Lohan could insist on way too much free shit and ruin everything for the poor kid, because seriously, what else is Dina for?

Sounds like trouble in Zombieland: The Walking Dead producer Frank Darabont has fired the show's entire writing staff -- which sounds like a real dick move until you realize that said staff is responsible for maybe two out of the six scripts written for the first season. Sources at the show say no final decision has been made, but Darabont seems intent on using freelancers to save money. Which does not bode well for the show's second season. Sorry, deadites. Looks like you may get bitten on this one.

And I thought it was the cats that had nine lives. Brandon Camp has plans to extend his father Joe's Benji film franchise, and will soon begin a nationwide search for a pound pup to fittingly portray the title pooch. Speaking purely out of Gen-X nostalgia, I will say that I grew up with the Benji movies, I know that they are unadulterated cutesy-pie schmaltz, and nevertheless I love them all (except for that piece of shit Chevy Chase one), and I wish Brandon lots of luck in his endeavor. May your movies be making you millions in Milk Bones for years to come.

Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci say they've now broken the story for the next Star Trek film. So, uh, some glue is probably in order then.

Celebrities such as Stefani "Lady Gaga" Germanotta, Jennifer Hudson, Ryan Seacrest, Kim and Khloe Kardashian, Elijah Wood, Serena Williams, and Alicia Keys are all signing off of Twitter today in order to raise money for Keys' charity, Keep A Child Alive. Which is all very noble and all very heartwarming, I'm sure, until you realize that the people doing this are collectively worth a billion dollars or two, and apparently can't be buggered to do more than log off the internet and appear in ads showing them in coffins, which is more of a "Hey, look at me and give your money!" Now I'm sure that all of these folks have contributed to Keys' cause monetarily and I am in no way trying to belittle it. But that said, Kim Kardashian will get up out of her coffin and walk away. And a week later we will have forgotten this, and all these "digital deaths" will be a footnote to a sidebar. I think the goal is laudable, but the method? Just attention whoring.

This just in: Jack White has come to the sobering realization that a great many of his fans and Third Man Records membership holders are ungrateful little dickbags. Welcome to the Internet, Jack. 

Today in who gives a fuck:
  • Jennifer Lopez is trying to block her ex-husband Ojai Noa from releasing a "sex tape" in which she publicly flashes her vagoo. Not sure where on the planet that's actually considered sex, but okay. 
  • Kate "LOOK AT ME I'M AN ATTENTION WHORE" Gosselin insists her kids weren't expelled from their school. They were instead asked politely to leave because it was best for them to do so. Um, yeah. They call that expulsion Kate. You twittering twat. 
  • Semi-famous former child actor and drug addict Jodie Sweetin has released the first photographs of her daughter Bea, and awwwwwwwww look it's a little Jodie clone. How cute! I may get diabetes. 

ABC may be taking a whimsical look at the wild and woolly world of . . . food trucks. Because you know that potential salmonella and surly, sweaty hipster servers and their Euorpean immigrant bosses are just fuckin' hysterical. I can't stop laughing just thinking about it. But that's because the medication has kicked in.

Matt Lauer thinks the size of your package is hysterical.

Say, have you accidentally swallowed a bottle of Janitor In A Drum? Are you Bulimic? Do you need to induce vomiting but have no ipecac, and have recently misplaced your ostrich feather and accidentally amputated all your fingers and toes? Well then, here's an article about the upcoming sex scene in Twilight: Breaking Dawn for you. You're welcome!

Well, I think I'd better get going before the twihards get here and start calling for my blood or biting my pillows or something. Now is the time on Nighthawk Postcards when we dance:


Come to the Dark Side! We have MARACAS!

Later!