"You're fragile as a scene, you know."

"Who's your only friend, kid?"

Things I saw today on Gawker:

Touché!

(Or, perhaps, Douché! Either one. The headline is cleverly great as well!)

(Kelvin-referencing tagline? Also clever and great!)

You know, sometimes on days when I am too tired and lazy to contemplate racism or my own self-hate or what have you, I am actually thankful that I am naturally brown and not some pale chick incomprehensibly desperate to appear otherwise. On that note, it just occurred to me that there are probably racists out there who slavishly use bronzer or UV radiation or just plain old sunbaths to add a little "color", as if their ranting and raving needed to appear any more ridiculous or hypocritical. HAA-ha!

TRACK LISTING: Beulah, "What Will You Do When Your Suntan Fades?"

[NOTE: The woman in the photo above is crazy, crazy, Edie Beale, as pictured in a scene from Grey Gardens.]

"Strangely familiar tracks are falling."

"I'm glad you're here!"

Things I saw after dinner this evening, while searching for dessert with CW, SAD and PF:

Lauren R (as shown)!

I met Lauren while she was working for CFRC; it was probably three years ago, give or take a few months, and it was probably at The Grad Club, though it could very well have been at Elixir that we were first acquainted. I always called her "The Laurens" because she worked with another Lauren, but also because I didn't know her last name until tonight. This was probably unfair of me. I mean, how hard is it to ask someone for their last name so you can come up with some distinguishing nickname? (See previous paragraph.)

I think the last time I saw Lauren R was at The Grad Club as well, though again, it could have been Elixir. It was definitely about a year ago, but it might have been two years ago. I was sure that I would find the last photo I took of her among the others, but impossibly, I cannot find a single picture of LR in there. It's strange, but it makes this photo of her all the more valuable.

TRACK LISTING: Saint Etienne, "Been So Long"

[NOTE: The photo above was taken at Moonbean, where I was surprised and slightly confused to see Lauren, as I'd only ever known her to reside in Kingston. We spoke at length; she used the word "groovy" a lot, which I liked, then rang up my vegan chocolate-almond cookie to go.]

The Sunday Night Lights: No.40

"Praise the lord!"


TRACK LISTING: Chet Atkins with Jerry Reed, "I Saw the Light"

"Here's your last chance for redemption."

"Take it while it lasts
'cause it will end."

Things I saw online this afternoon:

Yikes.

Oh well. Insert I Know Who Killed MY CAREER joke here. I'm still mourning the loss of Julia Ormond to this disaster.

TRACK LISTING: Lindsay Lohan, "Over"

"Just a little more time is all we're asking for!"

"'Cause just a little more time
could open closing doors."

Things I saw in a flashy sidebar ad on Gawker:

Wow. This might actually be for reals! (Also, its presence on the Gawker site is now interesting because it calls to mind this recent article, a report that suddenly appears to be more than just coincidental timing on the part of all involved.)

I don't know that The Two Coreys is long for this world (and the show hasn't even premiered yet), but I do know and am ashamed to admit that if we still had cable at home, I would probably tune in to at least one episode. Oh, sigh.

Well, happy weekend, everybody! Dream a Little Dream and don't let the goddamn, shit-sucking vampires get you down, etc etc.

(Oh, and on a slightly related, former-teen-heartthrobs note, "Breaking Up Is Hard to Do" is playing on the radio right now, but all I can think about is how Beverly Hills, 90210 has ruined this song for me FOREVER. Bah!)

TRACK LISTING: Corey Hart, "Never Surrender"

[NOTE: The image above is a photo of Corwin "Corey" Fox during his high school years, to carry the themes of "Corey" and "teenagers" as far as possible.]

"I thought I saw you out on the avenue."

"But I guess
it was just someone
who looked a lot like
I remember you do."

Things I saw this morning on the way to work:

Joel Kiefte, circa 1993 or 1994.

In fact it was just the flash of a kid who looked so much like Joel did in high school, tall and gangly and wearing a dark blue baseball cap, stepping onto the station platform as our train sped away. Seeing this kid made me wonder what Joel is up to these days. He's not on Facebook or MySpace, and while he might be one of the results of a "joel kiefte" Google search (probably the one in BC), one can't know for sure without a photograph to confirm identity.

Joel Kiefte, where are you? Who would know? Eric Larock? Chris Anderson? Erin Brophy? Leah Adair? I don't even know where Leah is these days. I'm sure someone does, and I'm sure that if she wanted to be found by the likes of me and/or any other yahoo performing a web search, she'd be found. A computer and access to the internet doesn't mean I have the right to root out people I haven't seen in over a decade. For all I know, Leah's gone underground, hanging out in some secret society with Joel and the notoriously untraceable Margarita Ngoh. More power to them!

The real question is: why do I care? If people want you to know where they are, they will tell you, or they will post profiles on popular social networking sites and attach easily recognizable photos so that they might be rediscovered. Still I wonder. It's true that Joel and I weren't close friends -- we were just friends, and we might not be friends if we met again -- but I do miss him sometimes. Then again, maybe I just miss the Joel that looked like that kid in the subway.

TRACK LISTING: Translator, "Everywhere That I'm Not"

[NOTE: The image above is the back of Joel Kiefte's head, as seen in the rear parking lot of our high school in the spring of 1993.]

"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together!"

"Man, you should have seen them
kicking Edgar Allan Poe."

Things I saw today via Defamer:

I see what you mean!

A once-promising career derailed by drugs and alcohol can be salvaged! I mean, it's not as if LOLhan broke into her neighbour's house a month after her DUI arrest and passed out on a child's bed, or whatever. (Well, at least that hasn't happened yet. I guess there's still time for that intervention, "Mom"!)

SURELY there must be an Iron Man sequel of some sort for good girls who actually rehabilitate. She might have to practise Wing Chun, though.

TRACK LISTING: The Beatles, "I Am the Walrus"

[NOTE: The model in the photo above is my husband, wearing his Sonic Youth Goo t-shirt. The image is a negative screen of the album cover, as drawn by Raymond Pettibon, which itself is an interpretation of a paparazzi photo from 1966.]

"Taxing all females from coast to coast!"

"I chill at White Castle
'cause it's the best!"

Things I saw this evening:

Something not even my love for NPH could save.

I rented this film based on its Rotten Tomatoes rating, which isn't technically high, but is pretty high for a movie of its kind. (Compare! Contrast!) I didn't hate the movie, and it's not like I didn't laugh at all -- I just couldn't keep my mind from wandering while watching (and I haven't even ever done drugs! So maybe this is the problem).

Anyway, I did come away from the viewing with a small, newfound crush on John Cho. I know! Weird, right? It wasn't the brown one! I actually found Kal Penn somewhat irritating. God, maybe I'm a self-hating South Asian or something.

TRACK LISTING: Beastie Boys, "The New Style"

[NOTE: On paper -- ie. in print interviews and selected quotes included in Wikipedia entries -- I have found KP interesting and even, on occasion, charming. I would also agree that he is quite handsome. Some might even find KP more interesting, charming and handsome than JC, but...I can't help it! The girl cannot help it.]

"She made me smile!"

"Oh, she made me laugh!"

Things I saw today, in response to this article on Gawker:

A comment that probably supplied enough amusement for my whole week. (This is probably a sad fact.)

This comment was also pretty funny, though its appearance after the preceding comment gives it a mild aura of also-ran. Too bad.

Anyway, I suppose I hate message boards just a little bit less today.

TRACK LISTING: Chris Rea, "Bombollini"

[UPDATE 25-Jul-07: This just in! This just in! Oh shit! "For a Man or a Woman"! "AC/DC"! "Katrina No.5"! Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha]

The Sunday Night Lights: No.39

"Like a stranger
in the night."


TRACK LISTING: Antiseen, "I Saw the Light"

"Oh no, oh no, I'll be your sister!"

"Oh no, oh no,
I'll be your brother!"

Things PF and I saw this evening, as cute and funny as always:

THE BEANERS!

They are so lovely.

TRACK LISTING: Midge Ure with Kate Bush, "Brother and Sister"

"And we know you turn the sound up when your parents are gone, yeah!"

"You better come on down
and meet the nicest
kids in town!"

Things I saw on Rotten Tomatoes this afternoon:

Grease 1 + Grease 2 = unexpected victory!

Wow. I mean, it wasn't as if I was hoping for the remake of the remake of the cult classic to fail, but...man! I did NOT expect such a high average rating, ESPECIALLY from "The Cream of the Crop". Well, good for them! This may also mean that I am rethinking my decision to avoid seeing Travolta in that fat suit yet again.

TRACK LISTING: Clarke Thorell (and also James Marsden), "The Nicest Kids in Town"

[NOTE: The book in the image above is my cherished copy of Grease: The Filmnovel (fourth title down in the preceding link, in case you don't see it after clicking through). The still-frame on the TV behind the book is taken from the film version of Grease, which at the time was hailed as "the Hairspray of its generation!" That last bit may or may not be a lie.]

[UPDATE 22-Jul-07: I ended up going to see Hairspray this afternoon! By myself! Which is kind of sad! But anyway, it was fun, even though I probably could have waited to rent it or something. I enjoyed spotting my city in its Baltimorean incarnation, especially that building on Dupont that I love, which took on the demanding role of the WYZT studio. Also, I now have an answer to the "what period piece is being filmed here" question that popped into my head the time I walked by Lord Lansdowne and saw an old-timey bus out front.]

"Now I'd rather jump than pay."

"They're gonna book me
anyway!"

Things I saw as I stepped off the bus on this rainy morning:

A thick crowd of people with pursed lips, waiting for the streetcar.

There was a problem on the Spadina-University leg of the north-south subway line during the morning rush hour, which forced many commuters to find alternate routes, including me. The Bathurst car is usually full on a regular day, so on a day involving a service disruption it would inevitably be packed to the gills, and there would definitely be a wait to board. I decided to crane my neck at the gate to check if a car was on its way -- hopefully I would see two or three of them heading towards the station. If not, I'd have to make alternate alternate plans.

I couldn't see any streetcars in the distance, but I did see a squat, goateed man carrying a cooler approaching the gate. He bypassed the station entrance -- where transit fare is paid -- and calmly walked onto the streetcar platform. His nonchalance was somewhat impressive, though I didn't imagine he wouldn't be caught.

Sure enough, a remarkably Barney Fife-ish transit cop walked swiftly over to the man. I shrugged and walked towards the huge crowd of people waiting for the streetcar.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" the cop was yelling -- at the man with the cooler, I presumed. Yet even after the man with the cooler had stopped in front of the cop, the cop was still yelling. I suddenly realized that the cop was yelling for me, too. Huh?

The cop looked at me and The Cooler sternly. "Did you just enter through the gate?" The Cooler didn't say a word. He just stared, which either means that he was a) playing tough; b) not fluent in English; or c) psycho. I, however, was not any of those things, and I had an alibi, so I provided it.

"I got off the 7," I told the cop, thinking this would be enough.

"You got off the 7?" he (sort of) repeated.

I nodded, my eyes hardening a little. "I got off the 7."

"Where did you get off the 7?" the cop asked.

Is he serious? I pointed to the bus stop. "I got off over there."

The cop didn't dismiss me, turning to face The Cooler instead, who remained silent. The cop beckoned to another transit worker who seemed to emerge from nearby bushes. A spy, maybe? How elaborate a sting! The cop asked his fellow employee if he saw me and/or The Cooler arrive.

"I don't know where she came from," the worker replied, jerking his head in my direction, "but he definitely walked through the gate." It wasn't exactly a vindication for me, but it wasn't an indictment, either, so I took it. For good measure, I gave the transit cop my best "I told you so" glare (which, honestly, wasn't so great). The cop shooed me away with a withering wave of his hand. Where is the satisfaction in that? I guess the cop is just young and eager to do his job -- he wants to do his job properly and as best he can, which I appreciate -- but if he's going to stake out transit offenders, he should probably keep his eyes on the scene.

I glanced back as I walked off. The squat, goateed man was still staring! Yikes. What did he have in that cooler?

TRACK LISTING: Beastie Boys, "Transit Cop"

[NOTE: The image above is a detail from pages 18 and 19 of Feelings between Kids and Grownups (Advanced Learning Concepts, 1974).]

"I really pity you, and I don't want you."

"It's so hard
to face your face!"

Things I saw today, courtesy of The Fug Girls:

Oh, good lord.

If Mary Jo Eustace is crying her heart out over this douche, I am positive that her tears will dry immediately upon seeing his look in that photo. Yikes!

Certainly Miss Jobs standing there beside him deserves half the extramarital blame, no? Unfortunately, I often forget as I am too blinded by my adoration of her officiating gay weddings. Also there was that funny, Scientologyunidentifiable cult-skewering episode of her mostly not-so-great show. I liked that episode, so obviously I am beyond help.

If it's any consolation to you guys, though, she'll probably end up looking like Amanda Lepore one day, at which point "McFugmott" will feel compelled to leave her and crawl back into the hole from whence he came. (And I don't mean Canada, jerks.) Then TS can go hang out with Heatherette (or something)! I'm not sure if this is a happy or sad future.

TRACK LISTING: The Dickies, "Hideous"

[NOTE: The image above is a detail from page 4 of "Archie in 'Happiness Is'", taken from Betty and Veronica: Double Digest Magazine No.35 (Archie Comic Publications, 1992).]

"Strange days have found us."

"Strange days have
tracked us down."

Things I saw this evening on the way home:

Our northbound streetcar easing to a stop beside its southbound counterpart, just above Queen; both streetcars sit in the middle of the road as the drivers step down, dodge traffic, and switch places. Our new driver waves to our old driver as he settles in, adjusts the rearview mirror and pulls away, back on track. I have never seen this kind of exchange happen before but it certainly makes the ride a little more interesting.

Later, on the northbound bus, an old man with a long white beard grins widely and reads his newspaper with a large magnifying glass. No one around him pays any attention; every thought bubble declares, "We see this sort of thing all the time."

TRACK LISTING: The Doors, "Strange Days"

"I had a dream."

"I had an awesome dream."

Things I saw online today:

This post by /a -- but before we go any further, let's just give old AGF a hearty "Welcome Back!" and not even bother with the "Where have you been?"

Now let's move on, as his post is not actually the point of this one. Basically, his whole Kim Carnes=Rod Stewart thing reminded me of being a kid and refusing to believe that the line from "Say You, Say Me" was "I had an awesome dream." For some reason I could not comprehend the idea of an "awesome" dream, and figured that the line must be "I had an awful dream." (That I could only imagine dreams to be awful and not awesome speaks volumes, probably, and may eventually lead me to a therapist's couch, but obviously we'll have to leave those stories for later dates.)

Really, what a/'s post reminded me of was a conversation I had with Rob and Brendan and PF on Friday night. We were sitting around R&B's new living room eating angel food cake with whipped cream and strawberries; "Say You, Say Me" started playing on the TV, so I felt compelled to tell them about my childhood interpretation of the "dream" line. I finished speaking in time to sing along with the lyrics in question, at which point Brendan cracked up and all I could see was a mouth full of Cool Whip, so I promptly forgot everything and started laughing at his ensuing struggle to swallow.

Anyway, "Say You, Say Me" played on the radio this morning as well, like some friendly reminder from out of the ether. Thanks, universe! I GET IT NOW.

TRACK LISTING: Lionel Richie, "Say You, Say Me"

The Sunday Night Lights: No.38

"Then Jesus came."


TRACK LISTING: Bill Anderson, "I Saw the Light"

"Such a cosy room!"

"The windows are illuminated
by the sunshine through them."

Things I saw and explored today:

The new home of R&B!

The warmest of housewarming wishes to you, Rob and Brendan (and you too, Rocky and Paco, you adorable, crazy, tiny dogs).

TRACK LISTING: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, "Our House"

"Don't give up! Don't give up!"

"Do you remember,
once upon a time,
when there were open doors?"

Things I saw this morning on YouTube:

See above.

I was led to this ad by a funny and interesting article, to which I was led by another article; and in fact I was led to the previously mentioned article by this article, so, um, thank you Gawker?

Anyway, it seemed an appropriate theme to explore today, as PF and I are about to head north to the new, fabulously accessorized home of my super gay ex-roommates. These ex-roommates are both super gay and just plain super, and thus I am very much looking forward to spending the next two days with them. Also, I am obviously too lazy to find an original photo for this post. (Wow! Twice in one week! My slothy nature is really shining through, isn't it?)

Happy weekend, everybody! Go out and kiss somebody you adore.

TRACK LISTING: Erasure, "Chains of Love"

"I wish you could see what I have on right now."

"Woke up again,
hearing the same old song."

Things I saw today, thanks to Dooce:

"Are you being sarcastic, dude?"
"I don't even know anymore."

Dooce makes a good point that many people would wear this shirt seriously. Of course, anyone who would do so would publicly claim to wear it ironically, right before unironically entering into a pissing match about the credibility of various bands. [See also: telling people that "Losing My Edge" is hilarious, then telling them that you do in fact "have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody"; "Two Hipsters Angrily Call Each Other 'Hipster'."]

It's still a funny shirt, though, and it led me to the even funnier "Shakespeare Hates Your Emo Poems". Also, how am I not gonna love a site that identifies each font it uses on their "Type Tees"? It's a web site after mine own heart!

TRACK LISTING: Destiny's Child, "T-Shirt"

[NOTE: The "sarcastic" quote is one of my fondest recollections of "Homerpalooza". The "compilation" quote is taken directly from the lyrics of "Losing My Edge". Also, only minutes after finishing this post, a co-worker told me about a shirt he recently bought, the centerpiece of which is a slogan involving the phrases "You say tomato" and "fuck you, you fucking fuck." Psychic frequencies, people! They are EVERYWHERE.]

"This one goes out to the one I love."

"This one goes out
to the one I've left
behind."

Things I saw on Gawker this afternoon:

Reading into the past.

It's a bit heartbreaking to find inscribed books in thrift stores or giveaway boxes on the sidewalk. It's also highly intriguing; one has to wonder what circumstances led to these books being discarded. Inscriptions are usually notes from one person to another, so it seems safe to assume that most of these books were once gifts. Of course, many of the other donated or trashed items were once gifts as well, so why do inscribed books deserve a higher degree of sentimentality? What gives them more value than other gifts -- the fact that the greeting card is permanently attached?

Sometimes books simply must go. After all, we can't hang on to every little thing forever! Yet not every inscribed book found by a rummaging stranger can be a simple case of someone going minimal, with no hard feelings. There must be some instances in which the book's giver and receiver had a real falling out; or, perhaps, the giver died and the receiver found it too difficult to keep the book around. In either situation, the book is too strong a reminder of days gone by.

A few months ago, PF and I found an inscribed book at a monolithic chain bookstore in a downtown mall. It was a guide for fathers-to-be that I'd seen before in a bathroom belonging to the brother of a friend; the copy that we held was not the same one that I'd seen, as evidenced by the names in the inscription. Mazal Tov!, the giver had written in closing, in blue pen, accented by a hand-drawn Star of David. On the cover was a sticker that discounted the price of the book by 50 percent, which outraged PF. "How could they put this back on sale?" he asked, as he prepared to bring the book to a cash register and demand that it be removed from the shelf for good. It's strange that a bookstore would resell a personalized item, but what hit us so hard was this sense of sadness, that the decision to return this particular book was not a happy or easy one. I imagined many depressing scenarios, from a rift between the giver and receiver to a miscarriage forcing the formerly expectant father to get rid of a now unnecessary guide. All guesses drew the same conclusion: the book was too strong a reminder.

"Maybe the guy just needed the money he'd get from returning this book," PF suggested, referring to the receiver, or maybe even a giver with somewhat late second thoughts.

"Yeah," I agreed, "or maybe the pregnant couple already had a copy of it." Why shouldn't this be the reason for the return?

PF handed me the book and I placed it back on the shelf. These logical explanations soothed us, as if we needed closure, too.

TRACK LISTING: R.E.M., "The One I Love"

[NOTE: The image above is the cover photo of an album we have of prints we've found abandoned in various places, like junk shops and the middle of the street.]

"I gotta take a little time."

"I better read between the lines
in case I need it when I'm older."

Things I saw as I emerged from the subway this evening:

The final pages of a wonderful book. It was difficult to say goodbye!

I've happily read quite a few editions of Savage Love, and I've been amused by Dan Savage during television interviews, but I didn't expect to be so moved by one of his memoirs. I won't deny that I cry easily, but I very rarely shed tears while reading. (The Commitment made me laugh, too, but I very rarely don't laugh while reading, so -- considering Savage's finely tuned sense of humour -- it's a given that I would at least chuckle.) To find myself choking up on multiple occasions while devouring Savage's observations on "love, sex, marriage, and [his] family" was remarkable; it convinced me that a work that touches me so deeply is a work that deserves to be bought and placed on my bookshelf. (I am also convinced that the next book I read should be The Kid.) The promise of having my own copy of The Commitment in the near future certainly eased the task of returning the book.

But suddenly, as if on cue, as I made my way towards the library, what is probably the most embarrassing song on my iPod began to play...and my eyes welled up. A POWER BALLAD WAS BRINGING TEARS TO MY EYES. This was in conjunction with Savage's story about relationships, to be sure, but I still felt like a total pussy. On the other hand, I was REALLY enjoying the song, losing myself in the backup choir and the interplay between Lou Gramm and Jennifer Holliday. (Man. I NEVER thought I'd write something like "the interplay between Lou Gramm and Jennifer Holliday" -- EVER -- IN MY WHOLE LIFE -- but there it is. I like "I Want to Know What Love Is" and it makes me weep. NON-ironically. Sigh.) A lump formed in my throat as I walked the side streets and descended the steps near the library entrance. The song faded away.

Immediately following was probably the second most embarrassing song on my iPod (the Rosario Dawson rendition, fair enough, but even my fondness for her can't obscure the reality that this track comes from the critically panned film version of a musical that I hated when I saw it live. Yes, I know that Detective Green was in both versions, and I don't care). However, it seemed as if the title alone -- "Out Tonight" -- highly befitted the ruminations of an openly (and proudly) gay man, to say nothing of the fact that the song is part of a musical. A musical! What else could I do but smile? Oh, and laugh, of course.

TRACK LISTING: Foreigner, "I Want to Know What Love Is"

"What I got you got to get it put it in you!"

Image taken from "Most Wanted" (via Wikipedia).

"I'm a lowbrow
but I rock a little know how!"

Things I saw online today:

Oh, my...words...cannot...hahahahahahahahahahaha!

Seriously, though, as Frank Black once pointed out during an interview (while discussing "Alec Eiffel"), isn't anything that's taller or longer than it is wide considered phallic? By these, um, measurements, any concrete, uh, pole may be considered a penile representation. Of course, not every "offending knob" (heh heh) would appear so lovingly crafted as to include a head atop what can only be referred to as "the shaft".

The plan to add metal rings and chains is clearly brilliant and may even be intentionally obvious. ALL THE BETTER TO RAM THE POINT HOME. Ah hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

TRACK LISTING: Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Give It Away"

[NOTE: The use of "Give It Away" was cued by Boing Boing's inspired (if slightly tweaked) employment of the "keep it like the Kaiser" line. Well done, BB!]

The Sunday Night Lights: No.37

"I wouldn't let
my dear saviour in."


TRACK LISTING: Jason Allen, "I Saw the Light"

"A pair of eyes, a voice, a touch."

"Complete surprise!"

Things I saw today, running around our apartment, bouncing around the city, laughing and shouting:

ADELAAAAAIDE!

Man, Addy is developing so quickly! Soon she'll be a year old.

It's a pleasure to see how she changes and exhibits her personality. She chatted without words; threw and chased an inflatable beach ball; and built a pillow fort, tumbling about it while we and her parents watched a movie. She attempted to read a book, then watched wide-eyed with a tapping foot as a children's video rolled. We were fascinated by it all. I couldn't help staring in admiration as she played makeshift soccer with her dad and my husband like a miniature version of her athletic mother, shuttling a small plush cube back and forth across our kitchen floor without losing her balance, all the while hissing "Kih! Kih!" as she imitated our cheers of "Kick! Kick!"

Have a wonderful first birthday, Lady A, you little wonder.

TRACK LISTING: Peter Gabriel, "Growing Up"

"Talking on the phone!"

"Gotta get your own!"

Things I saw this morning on Defamer:

The Crazy, Random "Chris Rock Thing"!

I don't care what the cranky also-rans on MetaFilter have written in response. I love this story! (I'm not really sure why Laura is doing so much work for her ex-boss, but perhaps he pays her for her chores services. I should probably read more of her blog as I have no problem with her writing style. It's, er, conversational!) Also, as Laura points out, Chris Rock isn't making fun of her for the mix-up or how she approached it. Well, I suppose he could work her into his stand-up routine in the future, and be mean about it, but thus far he seems very sweet and good-humoured. Ah, Chris Rock! This makes me like you even more.

For some reason, I am not surprised that Jerry Seinfeld is a dick.

TRACK LISTING: Timbaland featuring Kelly Price and Missy Elliott, "Talking on the Phone"

"Pioneer is first and gives the most!"

"Same walk, same talk,
but just no heart --
that's trademark
of the Copycat."

Things I saw on Radar Online this afternoon:

Further adventures in relentless and misleading self-promotion.

Seriously, Radar? Are you guys still stomping around like you don't have another organization to thank for your "ideas"?

Perhaps you feel as if your actions won't count as rip-offs if you use Paris Hilton instead of Hillary Clinton. That might work as an argument for the defense, but in the meantime you may want to cease-and-desist the Graydon Carter smear jobs (however deserved they might be), if only to avoid twigging his attention and a copyright infringement claim in the process. Sure, Kurt Andersen has already fired the opening salvo, but Carter probably has much better and very eager lawyers.

TRACK LISTING: Gogol Bordello, "Copycat"

"Their floors are stick-E-Mart!"

"Let's hurl a brick-E-Mart!"

Things I saw in the news today:

Kwik-E-Marts abound!

While this is a pretty funny and clever marketing campaign for the long awaited (by TOTAL NERDS) Simpsons Movie, it would have been so much MORE super-genius if the wizards behind this makeover had only converted stores in towns named Springfield. No? (And possibly "D'oh!" Sorry -- couldn't resist, even though I must.)

TRACK LISTING: Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, Jr., "Who Needs the Kwik-E-Mart?"

"Yeah man, how you doin'?"

"You good?
I know you like that!"

Things I saw online today:

Conan with an awesomely smarmy sidekick!

Sure, this isn't the funniest "In the Year 2000" ever, and maybe Will Arnett isn't the best co-host that Conan has had for this series -- and honestly, sometimes it's more enjoyable to watch an episode of "Celebrity Secrets" -- but...man. I turned the sound on at the office just to hear this clip, then realized as it rolled that I could have left the speakers muted and still found it hilarious. It's all in Arnett's face! Even when he's trying not to crack up! (Okay, fine, so it's a little in Conan's reactions, too. They work well together! Who needs Andy Richter? (Um, sorry, Andy Richter! You're good, too!) Okay, moving on.)

"I think I have the lock on this teenage asshole thing," James Spader remarked decades ago*; it's clear now that Will Arnett totally owns the adult version. (And thus, Miguel Ferrer can safely ease into the role of middle-aged asshole.)

Nice to see you again, G.O.B.!

TRACK LISTING: Mase, "Welcome Back"

*Thank you, Pretty in Pink DVD extras!