This story on Gizmodo is perfectly described by its headline
Video: Teen Brutally Beats Bus Passenger for iPhone
And while you can be totally horrified at the violence or the indifference of the fellow passengers and bus driver, I actually think this is a triumph of humanity because of this line:
Surprisingly, despite sustaining injury from blows to the face and body, the passenger did not lose his iPhone.
To me, there is nothing surprising about this at all. But like I said, priorities...
Abdul Rahim Abdul Razak al Ginco is the first prisoner from Guantánamo Bay to file for a habeas corpus hearing following the Supreme Court's decision in Boumediene v. Bush last week.
Speaking on behalf of those who support the court's decision and who make inappropriate jokes, I have to say this:
"Jeez dude, could you have more inappropriate Western-media unfriendly name? You sound like a Batman villain!"
So I just read a press pool report that was so utterly trite that it makes Logopolis seem like [insert something deep and meaningful here -- everything I try to use for this metaphor seems...well...utterly trite]. In it, John McCain listed among his favorite TV shows not surprisingly patriotic torture porn 24 and perhaps more surprisingly The Tudors.
At first blush, this seems an odd choice. I wondered "Does he harbor a secret Jonathan Rhys Myers crush?"
I mean, how could he not, right?
But then I thought a little more and realized: The Tudors is a show about a powerful white dude who gets lots and lots of play and is shitty to his wives and gets away with it. Of course, he's going to love it.
I'm not even sure if this is real or some great Photoshop joke, but the promo picture for the upcoming episode The Stolen Earth has made my year.
After last night's Daily Show interview, I have a huge crush on Lara Logan of CBS News. Beautiful, intelligent, name like a superhero, and unless you yourself are a Navy SEAL or Superman, probably a lot tougher than you could take.
Her comments on the media -- and her implication that we're all culpable when our country goes to war -- are spot-on. She even throws Jon Stewart a bit with her intensity towards the end. Watch it all.
"You are amazed sometimes at how deep the lies can be. I mean, 'whitey'? That's something that George Jefferson would say. Anyone who says that doesn’t know me."
Asked about the non-real non-controversy today, John McCain reportedly referred to the questioner as a "meathead," and when the reporter attempted to follow-up McCain instructed him to "stifle it."
Holy crap -- and I mean that literally -- this is awesome.
Caption text quoted in full, for righteousness:
Even though we know dinosaurs survived the flood (on Noah's Ark)1 we don't know if Jesus ever rode them.
But he probably did.
Click the image to enlarge its holiness. Especially worth if for the colors at the bottom. Flesh of Christ is an actual color in some crazy ass Christian box of Crayolas.
1 Best use of parenthetic ever.
Eighteen hours later, not so much I can say about this show except...
SO.
INCREDIBLE.
Seriously, it was even better than I expected. So worth the agony at missing both of the initial dates when buying tickets. So worth the ectasy of getting good seats when a third show was announced.
Ridiculous talent, ridiculous showmanship. Even more charming than the characters in the movie, if you can imagine.
And they played for nearly two hours straight (which is longer than the runtime of Once come to think of it) though it didn't seem like it at all.
Though there was some ridiculous crowd action (thanks drunk Irish folks), most everybody was entranced. Our favorite was the under-ten year old boy in front of us with his parents who was SO into it and so wanted to clap anytime anybody else did.
It was adorable. And appropriate. They deserved more applause than I can put into words. Fantastc.
Despite the fact that it feels like my life is caught in an endless cycle of work-watch TV-sleep-repeat (Monday through Friday), watch TV-sleep-repeat (Saturday/Sunday), I actually do lots of interesting things.
Maybe not as much as someone who lives in a great city should, but still, I have a horribly bad habit of ignoring the fact that there's things that I'm doing -- and certainly not blogging about them after I do them. If I remember doing them at all.
So in an effort to remember some of the awesomeness that has been ignored on Logopolis recently, I'll be doing some 2008 Midpoint Review posting in the next couple of weeks.
Or I won't. I'm sort of flaky like that.
Sorry -- I know these two things are totally unrelated, but I came back from the bathroom and both of them were in my feed-reader, and it was sort of a unexpected one-two punch.
It seems that the Constance Billard School for Girls...and the upper eschalons of Manhattan...and the poor people of Brooklyn....and especially Blair Waldorf will have Jenny Humphrey to kick around for a while.
Exclusive! Gossip Girl Boss Says Spinoff Rumors Are Not True
And thus concludes today's Gossip Girl non-coverage, unless pictures show up of Chace Crawford fellating an actual man rather than just a beer bottle.
I would watch The Adventures of Jenny Humphrey: Poor Little Girl at Snooty Boarding School -- or whatever they end up calling it -- loyally and without question. And I fucking hate Jenny Humphrey.
you actually had to be a successful show to warrant a spin-off. But such are the economics of the new media world:
Spinoff could spread Gossip
In response to Gay Pride month, here's some news about ladies making out who aren't Lindsay Lohan and her vijayjay-loving DJ.
Defamer reports this rather unimportant news about the new girls-on-girls in town.
Lesbian Chic: Newest Power Lesbian Couple In Town Give Lindsay And Sam A Run For Their Hickey.
This news wouldn't really worth posting about -- except that when I originally read this, I thought that Catherine Keener was getting it on with Jackie Warner.
And that was not acceptable. Because Catherine Keener = awesome. And Jackie Warner = n'awesome. So CK + JW = all kinds of ick.
But said gossip is actually about Catherine Keener's sister.
So my caring = not so much. Which, come to think about it, is like my feelings about gay pride month.
Madonna hires one of Britain’s most notorious divorce attorneys
(Rumors of the couple's demise have been around forever, so take this with a grain of salt. But even if this isnt' true, I don't want to be the last to report it. Because I suck.)
So Ed McMahon is drunk and broke. Well, we only have confirmation of the latter.
Celebrity Affected! Housing Crisis Now a Big Deal!
And everybody, from Jay Leno to Donald Trump, is trying to help out.
And I'm not such a heartless basatard that I don't feel a tad bit of empathy. God knows I can't manage my money and probably wouldn't be able to do so no matter how many millions I made.
Especially if I was drunk all the time.
But as I see all of these celebrities come out of the woodwork, I have to wonder:
Where were they when Hammer needed them?
I watched every season of The West Wing -- which, through dramatic devices of time manipulation like flashbacks and shortened seasons -- covered three seperate elections with primaries and presidential and vice-presidential candidates who generally didn't like each other. Heck, this year, I even watched Brothers and Sisters and saw Rob Lowe turn down the vice-presidential spot from his asshole hyper-Republican rival. What I'm saying is that I've seen more than my share of personal presidential politics psychodrama, played out in all kinds of permutations. That said, I'd give my left nut to have been a fly on the wall in Dianne Feinstein's living room for an hour or so last night.
Sincerely yours,
Mike
I'm not sure what I find more awesome:
1) That we have a Democratic presidential candiate who, in moments of triumph, fist-bumps his wife.
OR
2) That we have a potential future First Lady who, on a national stage, has no fear of giving her husband a look that so clearly says "Are you seriously fucking fist-bumping me right now?" and yet still manages to look lovely and lovingly at him.
Okay actually, I am sure. Definitely #2
Since scripted TV just ended everything last week (thanks Lost for not sucking and for at least coming back with a full season in 2009 -- which is more than I can say for my beloved Doctor Who or Torchwood), you might think it'd be too early for me to start writing a recap of summer reality shows already. But you'd be wrong.
Now I can't stop imagining what sort of awesome place Game Show Host heaven would be. Like this giant awesome cocktail party of days gone by. Bob Barker and Richard Dawson being totally lecherous to women of multiple generations. Charles Nelson Reilley and Brett Somers getting totally sloshed and being rude to each other, until Paul Lynde shows up so they have to team up on him. And Dorothy Kilgallen sneaking booze and pills and putting itching powder behind Arlene Francis's blindfold because that bitch guessed What's My Line one too many time?
When I die, send me there. And have Nipsey Russel write me eulogy.
The best thing about not living in Lakeview/Wrigleyville/The Area Formerly Accurately Described as Boystown is the idea that you can enjoy the theoretical idea of Chicago sporting events on the Northside without ever having to suffer through the clusterfuck that is Chicago sporting events on the Northside.
All that being said, I theoretically think this is very cool but imagine it being a logistial nightmare that I will do my best to avoid.
Comcast SportsNet Chicago has learned that the Blackhawks are going to play the Red Wings at Wrigley Field in January of 2009.Hawks to Reportedly Play Outdoor Game
2007: Anna Nicole - Dead!
2008: Clay Aiken - Dad?
The mother, by artificial insemination, naturally is his fifty-something "best friend" and "record producer" named J. Foster.
But not Jodie Foster. Because that would make my head fucking explode.
Also, I am again puking in my mouth a little bit. And not just because I linked to TMZ.
So I've been doing my whole "I'm not that gay" bit about the Sex and the City movie.. where I pretend that I don't care about something but I secretely really do... but as Friday approaches, my pretend-persona is getting a lot closer to reality.
Jesus fucking Christ, TV and Internet and newspapers and all popular media -- STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS MOVIE! And cosmos! And shoes! And weddings!
Seriously. Give it a rest.
That said, this list of 10 not-really-spoilery spoilers at Best Week Ever is really funny, if only because it starts with this:
10. Samantha Wardrobe Was Borrowed from the Smithsonian's "Hollywood Montrose" Collection. Looks like somebody held onto the wardrobe from back in her Mannequin days... For a lady whose been alive for 51 years, Kim Cattrall looks absolutely unbelievable. Which is why we don't understand the motivation behind many of the wardrobe choices. We're talking bright yellow blazers with "wacky" buttons and GIGANTIC shoulder pads, satin shirts that are reminiscent of the top Denise made Theo on that classic Cosby Show ep, for God's sake: SHE WEARS TURQUOISE METAL SUNGLASSES. And considering Meshach Taylor's classic character was based off of Vogue legend Andre Leon Tally, who makes an appearance in the movie... well, let's just say this is less of a conspiracy theory and more of an insanely factual one.
Image from the extremely awesome Mannequin Drinking Game -- which seems like it might be a lot more fun to do this weekend.
But I'll see you in the theaters Friday. Hold onto your ovaries.
In my latest attempt to be all Gossip Girl, all the time...
Wait...do the kids even say "yo" anymore?
Anyway, Stephen's comment today, daming me for making him interested in obtaining and viewing the Season 1 DVD of America's most-talked about, least-watched guilty pleasure, made me remember something I thought I'd posted here last fall, commenting on the show's (potential) greatness and saying you should watch it.
However, a quick search shows that I didn't actually make that post here. It was instead a comment in Mr. Rader's blog when he was commenting on the show's (pretty damn awful) promos. And at the time I actually said that I "couldn't recommend it" yet but that I saw the potential for greatness.
Read on to see just how prescient I was. Let me take you back to October 2007 when Barack Obama was a guy most of America confused for a terrorist, far fewer people were noticing the creepy vibe from Miley Cyrus and family, and nobody thought John McCain had a chance at the Republic nomincation.* A simpler time...but not a happier time...but a time when I was right.
While I cannot recommend Gossip Girl, the promos don't exactly tell the whole story.
It is written and produced by people who want it to be an over-the-top near-satire of the genre.
Evidence of such:
1) Previously never-athletic characters playing field hockey just so you can have a girl-on-girl short-skirt smackdown
2) Self-conscious meta-referencing to the fact that they are all high schoolers getting served $20 martinis in swanky bars
3) Public confrontations happen and then everybody reads about it on their Sidekicks/iPhones/gadgets while still at the same party
4) Primary male character whose only defining character trait seems to be "date rapist"
5) The choir from the all-girls school performing a Fergie song during chapel services -- which is one of the most awesome things you've never seen.
These are characters who talk like they are living on a bad soap opera because that's how they think they should talk. They create public confrontation scenes that should be gossiped (and blogged) about -- and sound ridiculous doing so -- because they thrive on the attention. And yes, this is the world we live in.
However, it is acted and directed (and promoted by the CW) straight without camp signifiers of any kind. And they almost get away with this disconnect to create something of subtle genius.
But they don't quite yet. They need to amp up the craziness and remove any sincerity -- but still not tell the actors (which won't be hard -- they don't seem too bright).
XOXO,
Gossip Girl
The very act of naming a character "Georgina Sparks" + Convuluted blackmail plot involving a "murderous" line of coke + Spiking your friends Diet Coke with GHB just so she'll party with you and miss the SATs + somebody selling their show pony for coke = amping up the crazy.
* Actual comment made by me during our trip to Arizona at Thanksgiving when there as a caricatature of McCain on Tucson's free paper in an article re: the election. "Oh they think he's a real candidate. How cute." Morale of the story: I should stick to predicting television shows and stay out of politics. This is not the first time I've realized this. At least Chuck Bass appears to have a soul and won't do anything to win (including poisoning the electoral pool so you can run again in four years saying I told you so) unlike some candidates I know.
(Related: Clinton Evokes Bloody Zimbabwe Election Dispute When Discussing Florida and Michigan)
So everybody online talked about the "best" throwaway line from the season finale of Gossip Girl being that evil Georgina went to rehab in Utah (which she eventually bolted from) but still bragged that she "lasted longer than Lohan."
And although that was funny, it has overshadowed what may be the best revelation in the episode.
No, not that Dan is a judgemental idiot or that Lily would bang poor Rufus but marry rich Bart. We knew those lame plot points would happen -- it's encoded in the show bible and the character's DNA.
No, not that Vanessa and Mr. Bangs didn't last -- to paraphrase the Doctor in Rose, "That will never last. He's gay, she's an illegal alien."
No, not that Serena would be single and want to be alone for exactly three seconds before she ran into Mr. Bangs on the street and invited him to "hang together alone" in the Hamptons. Trust me as one who has gotten up to his share of summer shennanigans: "hanging together alone" -- especially as "friends" -- only leads to trouble. Fun trouble. But trouble nonetheless.
And no, not that Blair and Chuck lasted about five days before he fucked around on her. Because, as he'd say, he's Chuck Bass. And try as we -- and Blair probably -- might, we wouldn't want him any other way than his nasty, scarf-wearing, cheating, date-rape-trying self.
So, as unsurprising yet enjoyable as it all was none of these season finale revelations were the most awesome moment.
The best moment/line in the episode, maybe in the history of the show, was when Blair revealed that Georgina started her most recent spree of terror by...
selling her show pony.
For coke.
OMFG, truly awesome.
I've been up since 5:30 this morning because I had some work stuff to catch up on, and I was in a generally craptastic mood because of it. But my entire outlook has shifted because of this...
Seriously, like hold onto your scarves.
This is maybe the best Doctor Who related news since 2003 when they announced the show as coming back.
BBC Wales and BBC Drama has announced that BAFTA and Hugo Award-winning writer Steven Moffat will succeed Russell T Davies as Lead Writer and Executive Producer of the fifth series of Doctor Who, which will broadcast on BBC One in 2010.
It's been rumored for a while that RTD -- who is brilliant in his own yet very different way -- was going to be leaving the show. And since he's done such a fantastic and well-received job (critically and ratings-wise), as a fan, the possibility was sort of terrifying.
Now it's just plain exciting.
Moffat, who even if you don't care to know him from his brilliant Who work you should know from watching the fan-fucking-tastic Jekyll, which you should buy/rent/download RIGHT NOW, is like the British Joss Whedon/J.J. Abrams but without the shark-jumping.
It's also been rumored that he may take over Doctor Who for some time, but since he's hit the big time lately -- with his Steven Spielberg script writing and all, fans, ming-mongs, and others like me had decided it was too "small potatoes" for him now.
And maybe it is. But his inner fanboy, apparently, won out.
As Moffat himself says in the press release:
My entire career has been a Secret Plan to get this job. I applied before but I got knocked back 'cos the BBC wanted someone else. Also I was seven.
Congratulations on making your -- and my (bastard) -- childhood dream come true.
(Meant to post yesterday on this so here's a summary of what I would have said -- yay yay California blah blah gay marriage blah blerg blah yadda yadda legal honeymoons with butt sex yay.)
My initial response to all of this was "awesome" followed immediately by "shitty political timing." But given further thought, I'm thinking I was being too pessimistic. Or not naive enough. (I've been accused of that a lot lately.) Here's why I'm thinking I might have been wrong to think this particular issue will sink Obama in the fall (and yes, I realize Obama doesn't support gay marriage...but neither did John Kerry.)
2004 Famous lesbian talk show host/comedian getting "married" in California = that angry, strange, blogging, not yet on The View Rosie, who at the time was best known for hosting her talk show and not coming out until after it was over. And having a bad haircut. And liking Tom Cruise.
2008 Famous lesbian talk show host/comedian getting married in Calfornia = that sweet, silly Ellen who is America's favorite TV personality and wins Emmys for her show and cries about puppies and shows middle America her big old house that she shares with her pretty, pretty girlfriend but still best known for coming out and is now also marrying hot, hot Portia DeRossi, which, at least fifty percent of America would like to do.
I'm not saying it's fair. I'm just saying it's illustrative of our culture.
Presented without further comment...
Amy Winehouse and Pete Doherty are releasing a duet together
Okay, I couldn't not comment. Sadly, I think this news means one or both of their life expectancies just cut in half... which means one of them will may likely be dead before I finish typing this sentence.
So good news:
Update: Chicago Music Venues Safe for Now
I'm not saying this definitely happened because of my angry email or phone call today -- thanks to iPhone I can do both all from the comfort of a stoop outside -- but Chicago can feel free to thank me for saving art, music, good cabaret, and bad improv troupes. You're welcome.
It's all about the power of positive thinking. (Or maybe just getting off my ass and doing the minimal possible effort for the maximum possible return.) Like I proclaimed last week, I demanded that it be a good week, and it was. I think this is called The Secret or some crap in Hollywood. Maybe Scientology works this way, I don't know. Perhaps this is the draw of Kabalah. But it worked.
Like Friday night, I decided that we should go see Iron Man -- which was just as wonderful as everybody's saying it is -- especially how it ends. (No, not the secret-surprise-not-a-surprise cameo ending after the credits that everybody in the theater was waiting around for -- I just mean the end where he says what he says at the press conference and BAM! credits... that's how you set-up a sequel.)
Anyway, we headed over to the AMC East 21, and though we were starving, we decided to get our tickets first. And lo and behold, National City is there giving away free tickets for whatever movie you want to see. Huzzah.
So comic book adaptation on the big screen = awesome, FREE comic book adaptation on the big screen = MEGA-awesome. It also equals spending the money you saved on extra appetizers, extra cocktails or taking a cab home. Or if you're me, doing all three. Because I'm trying to get us out of this recession twenty wasted dollars at a time. You're welcome.
But you know who'd be happy to have you see their movie -- but I think they might like you to pay for it -- are the Wachowski Brothers whose $100+ million dollar budgeted Speed Racer opened with a measley $18.6 million, putting it behind not only Iron Man but also What Happens in Vegas -- or as it will be known in Japan Wacky American Couple Gets Married, Rich, Herpes.
Though I responded positively to the original trailers for Speed Racer in a "this looks much better than the shitpile I was expecting" way, who could have guessed that the brothers Wachowski would be able to take a franchise beloved by nerds and some non-nerds alike and make it into an overproduced, over-long, overly-dramatic box office nightmare? Oh yeah ANYBODY. They did the same thing to The Matrix via the sequels and that was their fucking movie. So though I'm glad they are setting up shop in my neighborhood, I've got to recommend any studio executives reading this blog -- and I know there are probably hundreds -- that they should waste their money else where. You're welcome.
This, quoted in full because it's so important:
Imagine a Chicago with no Metro or Double Door or Schuba’s. Imagine a Chicago with no Royal George or Bailiwick or Athenaeum. Imagine a Chicago where local music is only heard in the suburbs and theater is limited to Wicked and Jersey Boys.This is ridiculous. Anyone who votes to support this must be voted out
Scary thoughts. But if the City of Chicago’s City Council doesn’t hear your voice by Wednesday, May 14, they can become reality.
On that date the council will vote to approve an ordinance that has the power to stifle creativity in Chicago’s musical, theatrical, and general cultural scenes. With no public discourse or commentary, this proposal has been approved by the City Council Committee and is on the fast track to be pushed into law. It is up to us to let our elected officials know that Chicago’s creative scene is too rich, too varied, and too vital to be regulated in such a blanket fashion.The details:
The “Event Promoters” ordinance requires any event promoter to have a license from the city of Chicago and liability insurance of $300,000, but that’s just the start:
- The definition of “event promoter” is so loosely defined it could apply to a band that books its own shows or a theater company that’s in town for a one-week run.
- “Event Promoter” must be licensed and will pay $500 - $2000 depending on expected audience size.
- To get the license, applicant must be over 21, get fingerprinted, submit to a background check, and jump over several other hurdles.
- This ordinance seems targeted towards smaller venues, since those with 500+ permanent seats are exempt.
- Police must be notified at least 7 days in advance of event.
For the complete ordinance, check out Jim DeRogatis’ blog on the Chicago Sun-Times.
We are collecting signatures to present to the council voicing our opposition to this ordinance. YOUR VOICE IS NECESSARY TO ENSURE CHICAGO’S CULTURAL SCENE CONTINUES TO THRIVE. Please leave a comment as your expression of disapproval. These will be presented to the City Council and to all Chicago Aldermen prior to Wednesday’s vote.
Thank you for helping to protect Chicago’s Culture.
Sincerely,
Theresa Carter, The Local Tourist: THE Website for downtown Chicago
Michael Teach, Chicago Acoustic Underground
Michael Narvaez, Chicago Acoustic Underground
So now that I finally have my debit card back and can blog again, I'm way too busy at work to do so. And I have tons to write about -- as last week totally DID get better -- with free tickets (twice) and a crazy day road trip to my family. More on that later. But for now, here's a clever bit of aggressively passive aggressive political activism that just caught my eye based on the Children's Museum re-location fiasco.
More Doctor Who beauty...a little bit more carnal this time (though, if we're going to be honest, the miniature Madame de Pompadour ship below does make me a little hard...)
Anyway this is a tribute to UNIT Private Ross Jenkins who was assigned to protect the Doctor two weeks ago (Spoiler alert for those who watch the edited (read: BUTCHERED) version on the American Sci-Fi Channel.) and met a brutal death in the battle with the Sontarans last Saturday.
Like all UNIT soldiers since they first met the Doctor way back in 1968, you were brave, loyal, and remarkably surprised to run into aliens considering you work for a branch of the military whose purpose is to investigate and combat alien threats to the Earth. And like all soldiers, bit players, and extras since the show came back under an openly gay producer, you were oh-so-pretty. You will be missed.
