Friday, June 27, 2008

The Two Friends Discussing Hayden Panettiere's Behind Post.

Because I couldn't be bothered to think of a clever title.

Kenneth: So whats the best way to deal with idiots who said Hayden's ass looks big
in those new pics? im thinking death ray
Cindylover1969: You might take out innocent bystanders. I'd visit them individually and take 'em out.
Him: oh no i use a sophisticated smart chip triggering system for surgical strikes. only the guilty are punished ;-)
Me: In that case, go for it. :)
Him: cause that is
one beautiful butt :-P
Me: True dat. How about dealing with people giving you crap because of her age?
Him: i got over that. believe me i have guilt too ;-) every time I think of Bugs Life I feel guilty buit i get over it ;-) back to Haydens ass for a second.... i never quite know how to use the term "bubble butt" correctly. Hayden in my mind has one correctZ?
Me: That's about right.
Him: works for me

Later on:
Him: Note to self... STOP watching Remember the Titans. it only serves to upset me ;-)
Me: Yes, I can see why.
Him: for me esp cause i love Hayden in that movie and the first time i watched it i said "Wow I hope i have a daughter some day just like her: my opinion has changed
Me: And look how that turned out. :-D
Him: yeah -
daddys little girl grew up

With ITV1 screening Racing Stripes on Saturday, BBC1 showing Joe Somebody (and Raising Helen on BBC3) on Wednesday and the last in the present series of Heroes next Thursday on BBC2, poor Ken's got a lot of temptation. Or he would if he lived here.

In Memory Of: Maria Sharapova exiting Wimbledon.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

The Carla Effect Post.

The wonderful Maureen Dowd in today's New York Times:

The French are different from you and me.

Yes, they have Sarkozy.

And they have Carla.

And they have “the Carla effect,” as it’s known in Paris.

If an American first lady, or would-be first lady, described herself as a “tamer of men” and had a “man-eating” past filled with naked pictures, Mick Jagger and Eric Clapton, sultry prone CD covers, breaking up marriages, bragging that she believes in polygamy and polyandry rather than monogamy, and having a son with a married philosopher whose father she had had an affair with, it would take more than an appearance on The View to sweeten her image.

It’s hard to imagine the decibel level on Fox News if Michelle Obama put out a CD this summer, as Carla Bruni-Sarkozy is, with songs featuring lyrics like “I am a child/despite my 40 years/despite my 30 lovers/a child”; and this song, “Ma came”: “You are my junk/more deadly than Afghan heroin/more dangerous than Colombian white. .../My guy, I roll him up and smoke him.”

Or if Michelle gave an interview, as Carla did in a new book,
La Véritable Histoire de Carla et Nicolas
, revealing that she fell in love with her husband for his many fertile brains.

“I didn’t expect someone so funny and so alive,” she said, recalling their blind date at a dinner party.

“I was seduced by his physical appearance, his charm and his intelligence. He has five or six brains which are remarkably irrigated.

“I didn’t go out with cretins before I met him. That’s not my style. But he is really, really quick.”

One chapter of the book is called “Le Diable s’Habille en Carla,” or “The Devil Wears Carla.” And the most repeated anecdote is the one where Carla slyly teases the French justice minister, Rachida Dati, a Sarko protégé, as they pass by a bed in the Élysée: “You would have loved to occupy it, wouldn’t you?”

But somehow the French — who are “polymorphously perverse,” as Woody Allen admiringly called Diane Keaton in Annie Hall — have become so enamored of their new first lady that they’re starting to like her husband more.

At the funeral of Yves Saint Laurent in Paris, Sarkozy got some catcalls when he got out of his car, while Carla, a former model for the designer, who calls herself “nothing more than a folk singer,” got applause and oohs and aahs.

“Preceded by a sulfurous reputation,”
Le Journal du Dimanche
reported, “Carla Bruni has improbably succeeded in a country so traditionally attached to conventions: in less than six months, the third wife of Sarko has conquered, after that of the President, the heart of the French: 68 percent of them, according to our JDD poll, appreciate their new first lady.”

In a recent survey in
Le Figaro
, the French president was back up at 37 to 41 percent favorables from a low of 32 percent last month.

“The president is better,” a close adviser to the mercurial Sarko told a reporter.

“There is definitely a serenity in his life now,” the French writer Olivier Royant told me.

“He has stopped behaving like a twit since the marriage,” a veteran observer of European politics agreed. “And unlike Cécilia, who seemed like a self-conscious pill who hated being at the Élysée, Carla is playing her role well. She is bien dans sa peau, happy in her own skin.”

Intuitively aware of the media, she handles both the French and foreign press with a down-to-earth aplomb. She has said she will keep her personality “while respecting the dignity of the position” and take her job “seriously.” She plans to write a diary, adding: “I write in French and dream in Italian.”

The magazine
Le Point
had a cover with Carla’s gleaming face and the headline “La Présidente,” with a picture inside of Sarko standing docilely behind his wife, as she sat at his desk and offered that assured feline gaze to the camera.
Just as Carla charmed the Queen of England and Princes Charles and Philip with her demure French schoolgirl look, she charmed George and Laura Bush on their visit, inviting Laura 30 minutes early for a girls’ tête-à-tête, and then sitting next to the American president and keeping him entertained with a spirited conversation in English, one of her three languages and sort of his one language.

At a press availability the next day, W. interrupted his own boring observation about “the importance of the Doha Round” to smilingly tell his pal Sarko: “It was a great pleasure to have been able to meet your wife. She’s a really smart, capable woman, and I can see why you married her. And I can see why she married you, too.”

It is true that the last US president with any real ties to glamour was JFK (not counting Ronald Reagan's daughter posing nude for Hefner, obviously). But It's hard to imagine any British politician's wife in a similar capacity, either (Cherie Blair's resemblances, for instance, have included Cruella de Vil, Nina Myers and Angela Petrelli).
And let's not forget the Royal Family...

The I Hate Him Post.

Friday, June 20, 2008

The Bring On The Delta Force Post.

But before I post, belated happy birthday to Paula Abdul - 46 yesterday. It seems like only yesterday I was swooning over her in the videos for "Opposites Attract" et al; if only "Dance Like There's No Tomorrow" wasn't so lame. I'd still rather her than yet another playing of "Bleeding Love," however. And at least she's gotten back in the spotlight without stripping off for Playboy like Jody Watley, Belinda Carlisle, Debbie Gibson and Tiffany did (which really didn't do much for them in the long run, Ashley Harkleroad take note). Not that I'd complain too much if she did...

Okay, so in four weeks I'll be off in the Caribbean for Sharon's 40th and I'll probably have decided by then if I want to be there for my 40th next year. But in the more immediate future I've got to pack, and more importantly decide what to take to listen to. And, of course, get Gossip Girl and Ghost Whisperer on the Sky planner.

Listening to stuff... like The Delta Force when I manage to pay for it. Intrada's 1000-copy Signature Edition of Alan Silvestri's all-synth score for the '86 epic sold out like that from them and practically every other dealer, so I got lucky. What with that and my plan to order
Iron Eagle next week (finally out, a mere 22 years after it should have been released!), it'll be a musical blast next month.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

The Spirit Scoring Post.

The news on who's scoring the film version of The Spirit definitely kindled my interest in seeing it. Yes, Samuel L. Jackson is always watchable (even in Virgin Media ads); and yes, Scarlett Johansson, Eva Mendes, Jaime King and Paz Vega does not equal the stars of Sex and the City as far as men in general are concerned... but with David Newman signed, the deal's been sealed. He's always been the most underrated of the composing Newmans, thanks mainly to the projects he's gotten in his two decades of scoring - Thomas started out with the likes of Revenge of the Nerds, but by the beginning of the 90s he'd moved further up the food chain and was well on the way to becoming the Oscar-bait (and Emmy-bait - he did Angels In America and the theme for Six Feet Under) composer he is today - as well as soon to be in cinemas with WALL-E - while Randy's one of the world's greatest singer-songwriters when he's not scoring Pixar movies (and slumming it occasionally... well, he did do Meet the Fockers after all).

Whereas David... well, I'll let his list of movie projects on IMDb speak for itself. (I'm not including shorts or his TV episodic work on Tales from the Crypt and Amazing Stories.) Italic titles are movies I've seen, those with asterisks indicate the score got some kind of release, whether score CD, promo (if I know about one) or a cut or two on the song album.

Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins (2008)
Norbit (2007)*
Serenity (2005)*
Monster-in-Law (2005)
Man of the House (2005)
Are We There Yet? (2005)
Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed (2004)
Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat (2003)*
Duplex (2003)
Daddy Day Care (2003)
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003)
Scooby-Doo (2002)*
Life or Something Like It (2002)
Ice Age (2002)*
Death to Smoochy (2002)
The Affair of the Necklace (2001)*
Dr. Dolittle 2 (2001)
The Flamingo Rising (2001) (TV)
102 Dalmatians (2000)
Bedazzled (2000)
Duets (2000)*
Nutty Professor II: The Klumps (2000)
The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas (2000)*
Galaxy Quest (1999)*
Brokedown Palace (1999)*
Bowfinger (1999)*
Never Been Kissed (1999)
Anastasia (1997)*

Out to Sea (1997)*
Jingle All the Way (1996)*
Matilda (1996)*
The Nutty Professor (1996)
The Phantom (1996)*
Big Bully (1996)
Operation Dumbo Drop (1995)*
Tommy Boy (1995)
Boys on the Side (1995)
I Love Trouble (1994)*
The Cowboy Way (1994)
The Flintstones (1994)*
My Father the Hero (1994)
The Air Up There (1994)*
Undercover Blues (1993)
Coneheads (1993)
The Sandlot (1993)*
Hoffa (1992)*
That Night (1992)
The Mighty Ducks (1992)
Honeymoon in Vegas (1992)
Other People's Money (1991)
Paradise (1991)
Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey (1991)*
Rover Dangerfield (1991)*
Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead (1991)
Talent for the Game (1991)
The Marrying Man (1991)*
Meet the Applegates (1991)
Mr. Destiny (1990)*
DuckTales: The Movie - Treasure of the Lost Lamp (1990)
The Freshman (1990)
Fire Birds (1990)
Madhouse (1990)
The Runestone (1990)
The War of the Roses (1989)*
Gross Anatomy (1989)
Little Monsters (1989)
Disorganized Crime (1989)
Heathers (1989)*
Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989)
R.O.T.O.R. (1989)
Throw Momma from the Train (1987)*
The Brave Little Toaster (1987)*
Malone (1987)*
My Demon Lover (1987)*
The Kindred (1987)*
Vendetta (1986)
Critters (1986)*

On the one hand, it's nice to see he's done movies featuring Jessica Alba, Drew Barrymore (three times!), Gwyneth Paltrow and Hayden Panettiere (she played the young Hilary Swank in The Affair Of The Necklace, even though she now looks nothing like HS did at 18), and there's some gems in there... but on the other hand, I can't believe he did R.O.T.O.R. I mean, for goodness' sake, R.O.T.O.R.? If nothing else at least we have a winner for the title of the worst movie David Newman's scored (and there's some stiff competition).

I hope The Spirit gives him the big success he's deserved... and that Lionsgate gives him a physical CD release. Not all of us do iTunes, you know.

The Are You Drunk? Post.

Feltz: Rosie O'Donnell, for telling Howard Stern that she couldn't do Cindy because she's a bit too perfect. Not something that could ever be said about Rosie (true colour personality aside, I still think whoever cast her as Betty Rubble has a lot of explaining to do).

Bonus Feltz: Whoever asked Cindy if Chace Crawford (aka Nate Archibald off Gossip Girl) is her son... only if she was knocked up when she was 20, and she definitely wasn't. Besides, and with all due respect to the guy at Saturday Confessions, he's not attractive enough to have come from her loins. At least they didn't ask her if the other Cindy Crawford is her daughter!

And now, to make up for the image of Rosie O'Donnell in the act, here's Cindy coming back from Panama on Omega-related business.

Monday, June 02, 2008

The Not That Cindy Post.

Switching on the TV this morning I saw the news about the fire at Universal Studios - no idea of how many parts of film history are lost forever, but my first thought was to be glad no one was killed. And if, as reports suggest, the Hill Valley town square (from the first two Back to the Future movies) is among those gone... it's still not quite the immediate bummer that seeing the end of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls this morning was. Watching a psycho gun down Cynthia Myers is a moodkiller if ever there was one.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

The Go For It, Scott And Maureen Post.

Maureen Dowd in today's The New York Times:

They say that every president gets the psychoanalyst he deserves. And every Hamlet gets his Rosencrantz.
So now comes Scott McClellan, once the most loyal of the Texas Bushies, to reveal
What Happened, as the title of his book promises, to turn W. from a genial, humble, bipartisan good ol’ boy to a delusional, disconnected, arrogant, ideological flop.
Although his analytical skills are extremely limited, the former White House press secretary — Secret Service code name Matrix — takes a stab at illuminating Junior’s bumpy and improbable boomerang journey from family black sheep and famous screw-up back to family black sheep and famous screw-up.
How did W. start out wanting to restore honor and dignity to the White House and end up scraping all the honor and dignity off the White House?
It turns out that our president is a one-man refutation of Malcolm Gladwell’s best seller
Blink, about the value of trusting your gut.
Every gut instinct he had was wildly off the mark and hideously damaging to all concerned.
It seems that if you trust your gut without ever feeding your gut any facts or news or contrary opinions, if you keep your gut on a steady diet of grandiosity, ignorance, sycophants, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, those snap decisions can be ruinous.
We already know What Happened, but it feels good to hear Scott say it. His conscience was spurred by hurt feelings.
In Washington, it is rarely the geopolitical or human consequences that cause people to turn on leaders behaving immorally. The town is far more narcissistic and practical than that.
The people who should be sounding the alarm for democracy’s sake, and the sake of all the young Americans losing lives and limbs, get truly outraged only when they are played for fools and fall guys, when their own reputations are at stake.
It was not the fake casus belli that made Colin Powell’s blood boil. What really got Powell disgusted was that W. and Dick Cheney used him, tapping into his credibility to sell their trumped-up war; that George Tenet failed to help him scrub his U.N. speech of all Cheney’s garbage; and that W. showed him the door so the more malleable Condi could have his job.
Tenet was privately worried about a war buildup not backed up by C.I.A. facts, but he only publicly sounded the alarm years later in a lucrative memoir fueled by payback, after Condi and Cheney tried to cast him as the fall guy on W.M.D.
McClellan did not realize the value of a favorite maxim — “The truth shall set you free” — until he was hung out to dry by his bosses in the Valerie Plame affair, repeating the lies Karl Rove and Scooter Libby brazenly told him about not being the leakers.
“Clearly,” McClellan says, sounding like the breast-heaving heroine of a Victorian romance, “I had allowed myself to be deceived.” He felt “something fall out of me into the abyss.”
And that was even before “the breaking point,” when he learned the worst about his idol — that the president who had denounced leaks about his warrantless surveillance program, who had promised to fire anyone leaking classified information about Plame, was himself the one who authorized Dick Cheney to let Scooter leak part of the top-secret National Intelligence Estimate.
“Yeah, I did,” Mr. Bush told his sap of a press secretary on Air Force One. His tone, the stunned McClellan said, was “as if discussing something no more important than a baseball score.”
He recalled the first time that he had begun to suspect that W. might be just another dissembling pol: when he overheard his boss, during his 2000 bid, ludicrously telling a supporter that he couldn’t remember, from his wild partying days, if he had tried cocaine.
“He isn’t the kind of person to flat-out lie,” McClellan said, but added, “I was witnessing Bush convincing himself to believe something that probably was not true.” He’d see a lot more of it over the next six years before Bush tearfully booted him out.
W.’s dwindling cadre hit back hard. In Stockholm, Condi — labeled “sometimes too accommodating” by the author — scoffed: “The president was very clear about the reasons for going to war.”
She’s right. He was very clear about it being because of W.M.D. Then he was very clear about it being to rid the world of a tyrant. Then he was very clear about it being to spread democracy. When that didn’t work out, he was very clear about it being that we can’t leave because we can’t leave.
He was always wrong, but always very clear.