Heath Ledger deserves the nomination, sure, but to prove he's truly a great actor, he should take the Jack Palance role in a "City Slickers" remake, play it the same gay/not-gay, Clint/not-Clint way, and then win an Oscar for that.
CNN is showing an aerial shot of Coretta Scott King's gray hearse coming into the United States. The alarming all-caps text below says something like, "HEARSE CARRYING KING'S BODY CROSSES MEXICAN BORDER INTO U.S." If you didn't know that King died at a resort south of the border (I confess, I didn't read the obits), you'd instantly think that something horribly illegal or improper was going on. The scene -- all sunny-Cali-freeway and whatnot -- is a very O.J. kind of tableau.
1. Black Uhuru "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner" (cusp o' the '80s) 2. "Army Of Darkness" (so '80s, but very '93, too) 3. The Cruise/Kidman makeout scenes from "Days Of Thunder" (If you need any validation that your sex life is hotter than the sex life of very good-looking Hollywood people, this is your tonic. The stuff from "Eyes Wide Shut" is so after-the-fact.) 4. The Mr. Eko character on "Lost" (Who said I've lost religion?) 5. Patron Silver, with a little lime juice, all day long 6. Mary Louise Parker (returning triumphantly to No. 1 on the Cesspool's shaglist)
... and somehow the Iggy Pop/cruise line thing seemed like pure folly. There was a whiff of inevitability to Target nipping Eric B. & Rakim. And the Ramones have always needed the money; in the end, "Blitzkrieg Bop" was no longer a punk song. I could go on and on, but that would be lame.
But I will say this: The new Nike ad with AC/DC's "Rock And Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" feels like a truly sad moment, if only because it's a semi-obscure blooze number that has absolutely nothing to do with exercise, or people who exercise, or even the *pace* of most exercise. It is a drinking song. You chug too many beers, slam too much JD, and while your head is hanging in your lap, that big Angus Young riff rumbles out of the tube-based, hand-me-down Marantz tuner/amplifier and homemade plywood speakers, and you're like, "whoo!" You stand up and strut across the room to the 'loo, where you put one hand on the wall and use the other to steady your willie. Pee flows, you forget to zip up, and you stumble into a seat at the bottle-cap-and-cigarette-butt-covered table in the kitchen. You find a semi-clean Solo cup and repeat the process. Hopefully you are wearing boots, Chucks, Vans or very old Nikes. You did not buy them for exercise.
UPDATE: So far I've seen the commercial during the NFC Championship and an episode of "American Idol." But good luck finding it online. Maybe somebody will post it on YouTube eventually. This is further proof that the folks at Nike are dipshits. The commercial says, "nikeair.com" at the end, but if you spend some precious time going to that site, the ad is nowhere. To me, this is dumb.
ADDENDUM I: Upon a third viewing, the combination of music and images seems even more clumsy: The song's intro is about rock 'n' roll, and how rock 'n' roll makes "good, good sense." The images are of people doing insane things, such as running before sunrise. Is the subliminal message that rock 'n' roll is preferable to the pursuit of endurance sports? Such subversion would be delicious (not that I have anything against endurance sports), but alas, it seems unlikely.
Jorge let me get up on his sweet Bianchi today. I rolled up my pants leg, took a couple of cranks and was like, "whoah." The front-wheel hand brake was necessary, to say the least. Mmm. It's all about that man-machine connection. I'd definitely buy a track bike for street use ... if I knew I wouldn't accidentally roll into an intersection and kill myself on it.
... but I'd love to get in line at a Star Jones book signing, be real nice and polite, get my autograph, and then subtly leave a pack of Ring-Dings on the table, right in front of her.
A deeper analysis of Ms. Reynolds Jones:
The book title: "Shine ... a Physical, Emotional and Spiritual Journey to Finding Love" The subtext: Yeah, you found that love, but good luck keeping it, biatch.
The Web site tagline: "I am the author of the only dictionary that defines me." Burning question No. 1: Are you sure you don't mean "psychiatric desk reference" instead of "dictionary"? Burning question No. 2: Does that dictionary also have a definition for "Oprah"?
The Web site construction: You can't see <i>anything</i> unless you give your e-mail address, including the "Faith, Hope & Charity" section. Subtext No. 1: Don't have an e-mail address? You probably can't afford the book, either. Talk to the slim, beautiful, elegant, mocha-colored, wedding-ring-havin' hand. Subtext No. 2: Contents not safe for children.
If the trend in my visitor stats is to be believed, your blog ain't worth doody unless you post video clips of stuff. I've been seeing a lot of Google searches for terms with "clip" attached, like these from last night: "Jack+Elam+Cannonball+Run+clip" and "video+clip+gatti+vs+ward." Sometimes I get "Kirsten+Dunst+boobs+clip" or "Eastern+Motors+theme+song+clip" or "Josh+Smith+dunk+clip" or "Mo+Rocca+clip" or various forms of "masturbation+clip" or whatever. Usually the sex ones are people just searching for the term, not for a clip. But the really random pop-culture stuff is coming more and more in a "I wanna see the video" context.