I wrote a new post for The Bilerico Project.



Read "When Is a Bracelet Not a Bracelet?"

If you're like me, you always walk away from Michael Moore films infuriated by the injustices that he's exposed and screaming, "This is an outrage!" However, the piles of convincing evidence that he presents to you to prove his points don't really go beyond inspiring righteous indignation—that is, you're pissed, but you don't really know what you're supposed to do about it.

After I saw The Cove, I knew I should tell people not to support marine animal parks or swim with dolphins. After I saw Food Inc., I knew I should start cutting high fructose corn syrup out of my diet. After I saw Terminator 2, I knew I should never buy a robot because machines will eventually try to kill us.

After I saw Capitalism: A Love Story, Michael Moore's new unashamedly liberal (as usual) documentary that traces the roots of our current financial crisis and basically announces that "the center cannot hold," I left the theater in the same state that I was in after all of Moore's previous movies: paralysis.

So I said to myself, "Self, I will do one thing that shows that I took something—anything—away from this movie." So I decided to pull my money out of Bank of America and open up a checking and savings account at a credit union. Okay. So maybe this act is symbolic at best, but, if you don't spoon-feed me solutions, I ain't gonna do jack shit.

Anyway, Capitalism: A Love Story is highly informative, fiercely opinionated, wickedly funny, and sometimes moving. One of the film's story threads—how laid-off Chicago factory workers took a stand against Bank of America, which tried to deny them their final paychecks and severance—is an inspirational power-of-the-people tale that makes up for the movie's saggy bits (it runs two hours) and seemingly sloppy structure (it wasn't always clear to me why one particular scene followed another).

This is an outrage! But I keep going to Michael Moore movies anyway. Maybe I like being outraged?

Here's the trailer. Watch:



One thing I do know for sure is that I now have a deep appreciation for Congresswoman Marcy Kaptur of Ohio, whose honest and forceful interview answers in the movie are almost as impressive as her impassioned message to her constituents earlier this year—she told people whose homes had been foreclosed to stay right where they were and "be squatters in your own homes." Her bit starts at the 1:00 mark. Watch:



More on Kaptur and her position can be found here.

I had to watch this Japanese infomercial for a while to figure out what the hell the iGallop is and what the hell it's supposed to do. At about the 1:25 mark, it finally became clear that the iGallop is an exercise machine in which users are required to do nothing except sit on their lazy asses. Hey, I believe in shortcuts as much as the next fat-camp child, but this doesn't seem right—on so many levels. Watch:

Even though I get an instant boner for 3-D movies, it doesn't mean that I've lost my sense of artistic taste. After all, I thought The Final Destination in 3-D sucked (and not in a good way.) (As you know, sucking, in and of itself, is neutral.)

But I must say that I was absolutely wowed by Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, perhaps my favorite 3-D movie experience so far because many of the visuals in the film are lush and stunning—e.g., hamburgers falling from the sky, a flood of giant food washing through city streets—and there were a couple moments when I felt as though I was on an actual amusement park ride. How did they do that?!

But the movie is more than just adrenaline-laced eye candy. This story of a nerdy scientist (is there any other kind?) whose mad experiment goes very awry is funny, fast-paced, and wildly imaginative, with terrific voice work by Bill Hader, Anna Faris, Bruce Campbell, and Mr T! Basically, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs is an epic disaster film filtered through the Disney Channel and Food Network.

After the movie, I went to the bookstore to buy the beloved book upon which the movie is based, and I was shocked to discover that the movie is nothing—absolutely nothing—like the book. Purists are probably going to hate this film and cry artistic rape, as they often do at adaptations, but, if you're able to set aside your expectations, you may just have as great of a time as I did.

(And some of you may criticize the film's seemingly pedestrian messages—"being different is okay," "your father loves you even though he can't always express it"—but, fuck you!, it's rated PG and it's for children! Christ!)

At the old carnivals, you'd put a quarter into this box and a chicken inside would start dancing. The trick is that the quarter would activate a heating element under the floor. The chicken's feet would get so hot that she'd start "dancing." I'm not saying they're doing that to this dog, but I'm not saying they aren't, either. You be the judge. Watch:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

Because I have decided to succumb to the wonders of technology (even though I know for a fact that robots will eventually destroy the human race), I have transferred all my Weezer albums onto my beautiful Palm Pre. Instead of putting the CDs up for sale on Amazon, I have decided to give them all away in one amazing prize package!

THE PRIZE: All six of Weezer's main releases on CD, with original booklets and everything!: the Blue Album, Pinkerton (still the best), the Green Album, Maladroit, Make Believe, and the Red Album.

THE RULES: Leave a comment—any comment—by Sunday, October 4, 2009, 11:59 p.m. If you don't have an ID you can sign in with, you can comment anonymously and leave your name or your initials; when I announce the winner, you'll know if you won and all you have to do is e-mail me to claim your prize. One winner will be chosen at random. Anyone in the world can enter, even those people who have won before.

And you don't even have to be a hot Asian chick to win! (But it doesn't hurt.)

Since I don't know anything about sports (hell-ooooo!), I wasn't aware that soccer players don't wear anything underneath their shorts. Or at least the guy in the following clip doesn't. That's why, in the heat of battle, his man-spear slips out and starts flopping around like a rainbow flag on a windy day. This is probably not safe for work, but, oh, it's worth the risk of getting fired to see it right now. Watch:



You're welcome.

My second pick for the "Novels Prince Should Read" Book Club I will confess I have not read, but I think Prince should read it anyway. Why? Because it has a book trailer! No, a “book trailer” is not a mobile library pulled behind a pick-up truck to your local neighborhood. They’re just like movie trailers only for books, and who doesn’t love movie trailers? I know they’ve always been one of my favorite parts of the movie-going experience.

Book trailers made their debut at a book convention in Shreveport, LA, in 2003 and took off in popularity with the rise of online video throughout the decade. While they haven't really caught on with the major publishers, they've become a valuable tool for authors, smaller publishers, and even fans who want to see a novel succeed. The website Fiction Notes has a nice aggregate of 43 Book Trailer Sites to Inspire, Instruct, and Share if you want to learn more.

I also chose this book as a way to expose Prince to classic author Jane Austen. I know, I’m crazy thinking Prince would ever expose himself to a woman. So rather than force the classic Sense and Sensibility on him, I chose the remixed version Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. The good people at Quirk Press have taken Austen’s timeless classic and added sea monsters, because who doesn’t like sea monsters? They’re also the same folks who earlier this year gave us Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, because zombies make everything better.

Watch the Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters trailer:



[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

I often wonder how Prince spends his days. I'd like to think that he sits in his home wearing a black turtleneck sweater while reading Beverley Lewis books. Maybe he spends his time volunteering at a soup kitchen helping homeless people. Buried deep down in the Jim Crow South, I feel like a mother with empty nest syndrome. It's hard to know what Prince is up to these days. I can only assume that the picture the television paints of California is accurate.

A lot is said about the wild way Californians live. They eat spinach wraps. They drive hybrid cars. And they snort cocaine off of underage girls stomachs like that John Phillips bastard from the Mamas and the Papas. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, either, because it was on Oprah and I know for a fact that I'm not the only guy in the country that watches Oprah. Prince, just remember that if you continue a decade long sexual relationship with your daughter that it will never work. She will never marry you, and she will just break your heart.

I know your heart has been broken in the past (by me), but turning to drugs will not solve your problems. Neither will suicide. Suicide is just a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I'm not sure exactly how people in California solve their problems. In the South, we have Jesus. If we have a problem, we just turn to Jesus and he washes away all of the dirt and debris that accumulates on our hearts. He's like a pair of windshield wipers for the soul.

I don't know a lot about the crowd you run with, Prince, but I am under the impression that they are homosexuals. If you want, I could introduce you to some nice folks. I can introduce you to Jesus, even. He doesn't shoot up heroin into his ball sack or get his rocks off with ten-year-old girls, but he does know how to throw a swinging party (no rock music or dancing, of course). So, if that sounds like something you be interested in, then just let me know and I can arrange a meeting. Or you can just go to the bookstore and look in nonfiction. The author's name starts with a G. Yeah, you might have heard of him. But, then again, maybe not in California.

[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

I know it's gonna make me sound bad, but, if there's one thing that has always boggled my mind, it's why on earth babies are considered cute. When I see babies, I hear fingernails on a chalkboard...you know what I'm saying? I'M SORRY. I'll take a naked mole rat over a baby, any day. Naked mole rats are cute. Zac Efron is cute. Dancing babies...? You be the judge. Watch:



[Thanks to The Bilerico Project.]

Meredith Vieira kicks Matt Lauer in the nuts. That is all. Watch:

Because of my completely (completely!) unpretentious and ingratiating public persona, you wouldn't know that I can be a bit of a snob about things, particularly when it comes to theater. I have this theory that one's enjoyment of a play begins to break down when you sit beyond the seventh row and that enjoyment gets incrementally damaged as you keep going back. I think that's why many big Broadway shows leave a lot of people I know cold and indifferent.

I saw Yasmina Reza's brilliantly funny and perceptive play, Art (translated by Christopher Hampton), on Broadway many years ago with the powerhouse cast of Alan Alda, Victor Garber, and Alfred Molina. I'm sure you can imagine how delicious those scenery-chewing performances were—after all, the absurd story of three friends fighting over how stupid one of them is to pay a shitload of money for a white painting (it's modern art!) is rife with comic possibilities—but I must say, sitting in the fifteenth row or so, there seemed to be a bit of a disconnect between me and the performance, a disconnect that I tried hard to resist because, having read the play prior, it was one of my all-time favorites. It was my Seventh Row Theory in action.

Well, not only is East West Players' current production of Art, running through October 11, 2009, pitch-perfect—from the nimble yet depth-delving directing by Alberto Isaac to the very funny yet ultimately heartbreaking performances of Francois Chau (who you may recognize as Dr. Pierre Chang from Lost), Bernard White, and force of nature Ryun Yu—I got to sit in the fourth row. (Ah, the beauty of connections!) Thus, I found myself more deeply affected by this production than what I had seen on Broadway.

The play may delight in mocking the pretentiousness of some modern art, as well as the intellectuals who rail against it, but Reza is more interested in how the pursuit of artistic beauty is, in essence, a fight against the impermanence of friendships, of one's self-perception, and of life itself. Art lasts; we don't; what now?

For more information and tickets, visit East West Players.

I distinctly remember one Christmas that my grandmother got a book entitled "When I Am Old I Will Wear Purple" just minutes before, of course, unwrapping a purple dress. When I'm old, I hope I have the balls that this old man has. It's a little long, but the music lets it play out like an action film. Watch:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

I once had a friend who wanted to make a movie about a Little Crack Girl. But the authorities (i.e., his producers) insisted that eight years old was not only too young for an actress to even pretend to smoke crack, but they felt it was unrealistic (ha!) and unpalatable (um, probably). Upon seeing the following video, however, I think the producers just didn't want to compete with what's already been done so well. Holy moly; just watch:



[Thanks to Gabriel Fleming.]

Is it better to be smart or kind?

If I were smart, I would have attended Monday's secret Weezer show accompanied by a hot Asian chick. Because Rivers Cuomo's hetero Asiaphilia knows no bounds, bringing a hot Asian chick most certainly would've guaranteed me backstage access to see the band and crumble in its presence. Pimping out a hot Asian chick is such a small moral price to pay.

Instead, I was kind. I invited Will because friends invite friends to secret concerts (I'm on Weezer's not-so-secret mailing list), even though Will is a tall white guy, which is pretty much the exact opposite of what I needed to get backstage.

The show, which will be on Yahoo! Music this Friday, was fucking awesome. No. Seriously. Fucking. Awesome. As you may know, Weezer normally plays stadiums and big venues like that. But this concert was at The Roxy in Hollywood, a comparatively tiny space, which means I was about 15 feet away from the action.

The band walked onto stage wearing white Nike tracksuits (ha ha ha!) and pounded out a short but oh-so-sweet nine-song set (not in this order): "Buddy Holly" from the Blue Album, "Why Bother?" from Pinkerton (hands down my favorite Weezer album), "Hash Pipe" from the Green Album, "Beverly Hills" from Make Believe, "Pork and Beans" from the Red Album; "(If You're Wondering if I Want You to) I Want You to" and "I'm Your Daddy" from the upcoming Raditude, which will be released on October 27, 2009; and covers of Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" and The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go?"

Rivers danced crazily as if he were having epileptic fits, smashed a ukulele and distributed the broken pieces to the audience, and jumped up and down on a small trampoline in the middle of the stage. Yup, a hot Asian chick would've loved it, but, in retrospect, I think Will loved it more. And I think that's okay, although I won't know for sure until I complete my cost-benefit analysis of friendship.



Listen to Weezer's new single, "(If You're Wondering if I Want You to) I Want You to." (Click here, and then press the "play" icon.)

It's not that animals partake in this extracurricular activity that amazes me, it's the way in which they have no shame or regard for societal decency. This cat reminds me of a Vietnamese sex worker I used to know. All the guys would be hanging out, and he'd be sitting in the corner with no pants on, like, "You like what you see? Well, come and get some." It was a little off-putting if you weren't expecting it. Just watch:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

Have you ever had something really important to say, but the person you're talking to just doesn't seem to care? Perhaps you can relate to "Senile Talking Cat!" (For increased viewing pleasure, watch this video with your soon-to-be-very-perplexed dog.) Watch:

If you ever attend a fancy Hollywood party, like the BAFTA/LA 7th Annual TV Tea that Loren and I went to on Saturday afternoon, there are a couple insider laws you should know about: there's The Law of Diminishing Celebrity Returns and The Law of Declining Celebrity Grades. But I'll cover that a little later on in this post.

First, I want to talk about the TV Tea itself, an event celebrating the Emmy Award nominees who happen to be British—because, you know, regional pride is important when you come from sophisticated lands.

Prior to the party, I expected to simply stumble into the InterContinetal Hotel in Century City, shovel pastries down my gullet, swig a couple Diet Cokes, and smuggle out little jars of honey (little jars of honey, you see, are tea party staples) in a matter of a few minutes.

But before I entered the The Garden area, where the event was being held, I spotted Paul Bettany and immediately thought, "Damn! You fine!" You would think I'd just plain scream it out loud, but I managed to hold back because I was too busy thinking about his scenes of naked self-flagellation in The Da Vinci Code and about how he fucks his way to tennis stardom in Wimbledon (you see, Kirsten Dunst's powerful vagina is the thing that fuels his success on the courts).

After encountering Mr. Bettany, I realized that this tea party was a bigger deal than I had thought and that it was going to be yet another perfect opportunity to do some starfucking stargazing. And I was right indeed because American actors were thrown into the mix as well. (You know, it's kind of like high-society affirmative action.)

I wanted to get a picture of Meredith and Stanley from The Office, drinking and eating, respectively, but I knew picture-taking would be tacky. So I just tried not to stare. I also saw a couple actors from Mad Men, two guys from The Big Bang Theory, the South Asian dude from 30 Rock, and Colonel Dubaku from Season Seven of 24, which made me want to yell, "Terrorist!" I heard Toni Collette showed up to do a round of schmoozing too, but I didn't see her.

I did muster up the gumption to talk to CCH Pounder ("You're fabulous! I heard you on NPR last year!"), Marianne Jean-Baptiste ("You're fabulous! You were great in Secrets & Lies!"), and Lauren Vélez ("You're fabulous! I Like It Like That is one of my favorite movies!"). It's just like to me to inadvertently approach only the black women. (But maybe you expected that because of this and this?) All three of them: nice, gracious, lovely ladies. I wanted to say, "I have one of you trapped inside me!," but that would've come across way too creepy, don't you think?

Oh, I did have a conversation with John Cho, but I already know him (all Asians know each other!), so that doesn't really count as celebrity stalking/starfucking—although I did spend a tad too much time talking about his GQ spread, as if that's not creepy.

Anyway, let me continue your behind-the-scenes Hollywood education (as if I have a right to educate you about such a thing, but, hey, it's my blog and I decide who lives and who dies. [I believe it's Gene Hackman who says that line in different forms in a number of films; see: The Quick and the Dead, Crimson Tide, etc.])

The Law of Diminishing Celebrity Returns. When you're at a fancy Hollywood party, acting all casual and pretending not to care about the overwhelming star power that surrounds you, never remain in one place longer than five minutes at a time. Plant yourself somewhere and celebrity watch, sure, but after five minutes you max out the number of new celebrities that you will see standing in the spot you're standing in. So, you turn to Loren, if you're with Loren, and chant quietly, "The Law of Diminishing Celebrity Returns, The Law of Diminishing Celebrity Returns...." And then you move. In your new spot, a new slew of celebrities will seemingly magically appear before your very eyes.

The Law of Declining Celebrity Grades. Be sure to arrive at fancy Hollywood parties exactly one hour after the event started. This is the peak time for high-quality celebrity sightings, e.g., "Paul Bettany?! Damn! He fine!" Once the party has reached its peak, the overall quality of celebrity sightings begins to decline. (I use the term "quality" rather loosely, of course. I tend to mean celebrities that make my friends go, "YOU SAW HIM?! REALLY?" So it's not necessarily your Tom Cruises and Brad Pitts; it's your "I saw Colonel Dubaku from Season Seven of 24!" [I know, I know. We're odd.]) So, you turn to Loren, if you're with Loren, as the event progresses to give him a running report that will inform him about how close it is to the time that you should be leaving the party: "We're at an "A-" right now.... We've just hit the "B" hour.... Oh, my god, we're entering "C+" territory—go get the car now! Go, go, go!"

On our way out, Loren insisted he get a picture of him and Jay Manuel from America's Next Top Model. What a starfucker.

I have to take a moment to rub Prince’s nose in the fact that I’ve already seen a preview performance of Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s stage adaptation of the Green Day album, American Idiot, and that I have tickets to see it again in October.

Having seen Jukebox Stories many times, I know how Green Day and American Idiot have a special place in Prince’s twisted heart. So I'm going to stab at that place and talk briefly about how good the show was. When I went, I didn’t really know what to expect. Being a big fan of the album myself, I was afraid they’d ruin it. Instead, they transform what’s already an incredibly theatrical work and turn it into a three-dimensional evening of sensory overload that will leave you buzzing with adrenaline well into the evening. I can only hope he’s made plans to come up and see it.

Now if Prince doesn’t already have tickets, he’s hopefully sitting in front of his computer right now reading this, consumed by a jealousy of epic proportions. He’s probably stroking Pork Chop, trying to calm himself, or, at least, we hope that’s what he’s stroking. To feed his all consuming fire some more, here's a news clip about opening night, featuring footage from the actual production:



Read my extended American Idiot review here.

[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

By now, Bamboo Nation readers are quite aware of Prince's aversion to "midget porn." In a recent post, "Conundrums of Language," he tries to soften this blow by announcing his distaste over the term "midget." I suppose he prefers the term "baby legs" instead? But whatever guise he cloaks himself in, it is apparent that his true feelings are on the darker side of the little people debate.


[Bridget the Midget (pictured above) is the star of over 100 adult films.]

[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

(The apartment. LOREN holds up O: The Oprah Magazine, which he found on the coffee table. He shakes it at PRINCE.)

LOREN
What is this doing in my apartment?

PRINCE
It's Oprah.

LOREN
Yeah, but what is this doing here?

PRINCE
It's free!

LOREN
So what?

PRINCE
I got a free subscription!

(LOREN tosses the magazine aside dismissively, tries to exit. PRINCE blocks him.)

PRINCE
Loren!

LOREN
What?!

PRINCE
There is one reason why Barack Obama is president of the United States, and that reason is on the cover of that magazine!

(LOREN rolls his eyes, exits.)

What compelled news anchor Ernie Anastos to tell the weatherman to "keep fucking that chicken" we'll never know. Oh, but we can speculate. And I know, when I speculate, horrifying images flash through my mind. Watch:

When I tell my friends that I went to see Tyler Perry's I Can Do Bad All by Myself, they start mock-laughing because they think that I'm joking and that the joke is lame on top of it. Then I have to proceed to describe the entire plot—Madea catches three stray children looting her house and tries to pawn them off on their boozy aunt—just to prove that I did indeed spend money on a Tyler Perry movie on opening weekend.

Don't they remember that Tyler Perry had me at "po-po?"; that Tyler Perry is a source of unexpected inspiration?; and that he was bold enough to turn one of the Cosby girls into a crack whore?

Look, I know, I know, I know. There's nothing subtle about Tyler Perry films (the good people are really good; the bad people are really bad; the Jesus message hits you in the face repeatedly like an unwelcome Danza Slap), but Perry expertly taps into primal emotions that makes going to a Tyler Perry movie a laughing, cheering, crying, hand-clapping, foot-stomping, testifying experience. (I Can Do Bad All by Myself, as well as most of Perry's other films, originated as stage plays that were performed in churches.)

A few things:

• Perry's hilarious signature character, Madea, isn't in the movie much, but, when she is, it's a hoot. Look out for the tour-de-force monologue in which Madea clumsily tries to tell a Bible story, patched together with half-memories and lies.

• Perry's lead, Taraji P. Henson, is stunning as the wayward nightclub singer who finds redemption through her niece and nephews. She's such a compelling force onscreen (with a powerful voice to boot), and it's now clear to me why she was nominated for an Oscar for her role as "Queenie" in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. (I never saw that movie.)

• When Adam Rodriquez, who plays the pious ex-pastor from Columbia, first appears on screen, he's sporting a shaggy fake wig and beard. After he "shaves" and cleans up, he's so jaw-droppingly hot that I almost screamed, "Damn! You fine!" But I didn't have to—because right after I thought that, Taraji P. Henson actually screams, "Damn! You fine!" I don't know who Adam Rodriquez is, but he's got to be like in the top ten hottest guys I have ever seen. Ai papi!



• Finally, I saw that some critics complained that there were too many songs in the movie, songs that interrupted the flow of the story. But I thought the songs were great (you can imagine how they played in churches in the original stage productions, along with the midpoint sermon) and showcased Gladys Knight (still belting it out after all these years) and Mary J. Blige, who sings the movie's title song, which you can hear a bit of in the promo video below. (And I don't normally even like this kind of music!) Watch:



By the way, I've been trying to get people to say things to me like, "Hey, Prince, do you want me to help you be bad?" So I can start rolling my neck and declare, with sass, "No! I can do bad all by myself!" Try it the next time you see me.

Every time I see a pug I picture them speaking with a really gruff accent. Perhaps the movie "Men In Black" is to blame for that. Or maybe it's because they always look like little Russian farmers. Plow your fields, little guys. But make sure you plant those seeds deep so the black birds don't eat them! Watch:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

[Thanks to Donovan Keith.]

Oh, I don't want to laugh. I really don't. I mean, what would that say about me if I laugh? But, damn, this guy is funny. Watch:

Speaking of Idiocracy, here's a deleted scene that wasn't in the movie, but is brilliant nonetheless. In Mike Judge's vision of a future where everybody's as dumb as a two-by-four (the nation's top-rated TV program is called "Ow! My Balls!"), Maya Rudolph's character wanders around the city looking for the Museum of Art. She has trouble finding it because the institution has been transformed in the "Museum of Fart"—because that's the only way they can get people to come. Watch:

Since cultural sensitivity is a common trait of the circles in which I run, I'm careful about what I say in public. (Ha ha ha ha ha...no, seriously...ha ha ha ha ha...no, no, no, I'm serious...ha ha ha ha ha!)

So when I saw Michael DeAntonio's repeated use of the word "midget" in his most recent Bamboo Nation post ("101 Reasons Why 'Lord of the Rings' Sucks"), I was immediately put on high alert because I do believe "midget" is a derogatory term for little people. (I learned that on The Celebrity Apprentice—don't ask.)

But I let Michael's post slide because he was referring not to real little people but to Hobbits.

So: is the term "midget" offensive when it's applied to fictional creatures from a fictional place called "Middle-earth"? Or does political correctness transcend realities?

Oh, the complicated issues we face every day here on Bamboo Nation!

A German Shepard and an American Pit Bull Terrier prove that high-energy puppies probably aren't the best dogs to place on a news program. If only they had someone working with them that knew something about dogs. Maybe they could hire some type of specialist or a PR company to help them out. These type of things are so tricky. You know what they should do? They should probably call the SPCA and ask them what they would do. Watch:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

Beyonce may bitch-slap a white woman in the Fatal Attraction knockoff, Obsessed, but she demonstrated that she is, in real life, all class when she came to the aid of a white woman at the MTV Music Awards this past weekend. By now, you've heard that Kanye West hijacked 19-year-old Taylor Swift's acceptance speech for Best Female Video (for "You Belong With Me") to declare that "Beyonce had one of the best videos of all time!" (Swift, in a surprise upset, also beat out Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Kelly Clarkson, and Pink.) Swift just stood there, stunned. It's kind of a sad moment. Watch:



But then, when Beyonce later won Best Video of the Year for "Single Ladies," she graciously asked Taylor Swift to return to the stage to have her moment. Rather touching, don't you think? Watch:

After a two year break, I am relaunching Bamboo Nation: The Podcast. I will occasionally feature the riveting artist interviews that you have come to know and love, but I will mostly be joined by Robert C. Barker who will chat with me about whatever seems to be bugging us on any given day. To kick it all off:

BAMBOO NATION: THE PODCAST
A Prince & Robert Episode #1

The relaunch of Bamboo Nation: The Podcast features archival audio footage of Prince and Robert trying their hand at podcasting way back in 2002 (they were ahead of their time!), when the topics of the day were celebrity stalking, college nostalgia, and how ruining your dreams is easier than you think. And what do Felicity Huffman, William H. Macy, Arianna Huffington, and Julianne Moore have to do with all this? Listen to find out.

Get it here; get it now.

If the gut-bustingly funny yet strangely accurate depiction of an actor's life in that "Fiery Hawk" video weren't enough to discourage you from pursuing your Hollywood and/or Broadway dream, then perhaps the music video for Weird Al Yankovic's "Skipper Dan" will do the trick. Sure, it's good ol' Weird Al; sure, it's fun animation; sure, it's peppy music; sure, it's about Disneyland—but why, oh, why is it the saddest song I've heard in a while? Watch:



[Thanks to Brent.]

Will bought Pork Chop a present. I still don't know what it is.

I chose Coraline as the first "Novels Prince Should Read" Book Club selection for a number of reasons. For one thing, it was recently adapted into a fairly popular 3-D movie, which we know Prince is capable of both loving and hating. I thought this might serve as a soft entry into the world of novels for Prince, as he'd know he could always cheat by watching the film. Except that the film is very different form the book (the setting is changed from England to Oregon, there are more characters, etc.), but maybe Prince doesn’t prefer soft entries. Alas, I will never know.

Really, though, I chose this as the first selection because Coraline is not only a children's book (making the prose accessible even to Prince), but it's only 162 pages long (making it a quick read even for notoriously slow readers like myself). Don't expect this to be some syrupy sweet feel-good tale, however. This is a children’s story in the fine tradition of the gruesome tales of the Brothers Grimm. Coraline is a horror story.

Prince likes horror stories.

In the words of the author: "It was a story…that children experienced as an adventure, but which gave adults nightmares."

Which brings me to another reason Prince should read Coraline: it's written by Neil Gaiman. Yes, yes, if you read my blog, you'll know I have something of an obsession with the man who brought us such amazing novels as Neverwhere, the comic book series The Sandman, and a comprehensive biography of Duran Duran. He is the rock star of the literary world and even dates a rock star. That said, you'd be surprised how much Prince and Neil have in common. For one thing, Neil is a very popular blogger, just like Prince. He also writes movies from time to time and has cats. One of them is named Princess. PRINCEss.

It's like you're leading parallel lives, Prince. Don't you owe a short little children's novel a read, especially one that'll give you nightmares? How can you resist?

[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

Reason #13: The underdevelopment of the main characters.





[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

I wrote a new post for The Bilerico Project.



Read "Would You Strip for George Clooney in Public to Win His Affection?"

This precious little video makes me wonder what the marriage is gonna be like. Does Mrs. Bride laugh at Mr. Groom every time he fucks up or just when hundreds of people are watching? For what it's worth, he seems to like it. Watch:

First of all, I am not an asshole.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way....

The best essay I've read all year? Josh Olson's painfully straightforward and honest "I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script" on The Village Voice blog.

As much as I'd like to disassociate myself from him and his fierce sentiments (after all, remember, I am not an asshole), I have to admit that I understand where he's coming, I feel his pain, and I have been put in similar situations.

I would elaborate more to soften the blow of his harsh words and perhaps paint him in a better light (and, by extension, paint me in a better light because, after all, I am not an asshole), but you should just read Josh Olson's piece and leave it at that.

Read "I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script."

(Olson mentions that he's tasked with reading the scripts of his good friends and the ones his agents send him, leaving him with two big piles and valid reasons for why he "will not read your fucking script." I also have two piles—one of scripts written by close friends and one of scripts written by my writing students. I love my close friends. I love my writing students. And I have just revealed two perfectly acceptable ways to get me to read your script without the kind of awkwardness described by Olson: become one of my good friends or become one of my writing students. See? I am open! Further evidence that I'm not an asshole! [Both friendship and student status may be obtained by application.])

(One of the things that most intrigues me about the piece is people's reaction to it. Check out the comments section of that post to see how divisive Olson is and how much who you are informs your reaction—and there are even more comments on Deadline Hollywood.)

Remember my riveting podcast, which also went by the title "Bamboo Nation"? You kind of miss it, don't you?

Well, I will be making a Very Special Announcement a little bit later in the week.

But in case you want to reacquaint yourself with Bamboo Nation: The Podcast or if you missed an episode or if this is the first you're hearing about it (WHAT?!), now is as good a time as any to check out the really entertaining artist interviews I conducted. I was listening to some of these old episodes, and, damn, I'm good at this! It's a talent that I actually forgot I had, so excuse me if I come off a little smug. I'm just happy that I did a good job, and my interviewees had a chance to really shine.

So, for some stimulating talk, funny segues, and amusing anecdotes, visit the Bamboo Nation: The Podcast site or get episodes off of iTunes (subscribe, rate, and review, bitches!). Here's a handy list of really stellar episodes (expertly re-edited to come in at about a half hour each) that are currently available:

• The Myke Weiskopf Episode features musician, sound artist, and Science Park frontman, Myke Weiskopf .

• The Scott Heim Episode features the author of the novels We Disappear, In Awe, and Mysterious Skin.

• The Ken Narasaki & Doris Baizley Episode features the playwrights of The Mikado Project.

• The Josh Randall Episode features one of the stars of NBC's beloved series, Ed.

• The Rickerby Hinds Episode features a pioneer in the hip-hop theater movement.

• The Michael Lowenthal Episode features the author of the novels, Charity Girl, Avoidance, and The Same Embrace.

• The Noel Alumit Episode features the author of the novels, Talking to the Moon and Letters to Montgomery Clift.

If you dig this back catalog enough, I may roll out some more past episodes that are currently unavailable. Enjoy!

Visit Bamboo Nation: The Podcast.

Isn't it just typical of the French to take things lying down? He probably had an American Bulldog come and roll his ass over. Yes, I would like a side of Freedom Fries with my McDouble, but instead of mayonnaise could you just give me a couple squirts of smugness? Thanks. Now watch this video with pride:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

I had lunch with Josh R. a couple days ago, and he told me that the following sketch from the U.K. comedy duo dubbed Cardinal Burns may be highly absurd and hysterically funny but it's one of the most emotionally accurate portrayals of what it's like to be a working actor in Los Angeles. Oh, the horror. Watch:

When I randomly selected the winning name for the recent Final Destination contest, I once again coincidentally chose "John!" This marks his eerie third win in a row—but he was suffering from so much winner's guilt from the first two contest wins that he's willing to forfeit this third prize. Seriously, John, you're on a crazy streak and should buy some lottery tickets or go to Atlantic City or buy a whore on Craigslist or something.

Anyway, the DVD will now go to..."William." Congratulations! William, e-mail me your mailing address to receive your prize.

Also, congratulations to "ML," who won a pair of tickets in the Ye Olde Cock & Balls contest.

Yay! Free, free, free!

If you're into cutesy, artsy, magical little animated shorts, this deceptively sweet little video by Vera Brosgol and Jenn Kluska is sure to float your boat—at least for the first minute and a half. Then, just as you find yourself resting your chin in your palm and sighing, you realize you've been tricked (!) and you're actually watching a VERY SCARY HORROR MOVIE. EEK! (I may be exaggerating. But just a BIT!) Just watch:



[Thanks to Superbadfriend.]

I've mentioned Gabriel's new film project before, the one in which he and Donovan travelled around the world, but I've never mentioned the project's working title, which is so horrible it makes my ears bleed. Fortunately, Gabriel is putting the task of naming this project in your able hands. That's right! He's conducting a highly scientific poll to find the perfect title. Don't let me down by accidentally choosing the one I hate, people!

Vote for the title of Gabriel Fleming's new project.

As you know, Jake and Will have been pumping out commercials for video contests for a while now ($11,250 in wins and counting), but they are only now getting hot guys to strip half-naked for them, even though I've been pestering them to make this happen for months. The following video may look like an innocuous Bounce ad, but that hot dude is eventually shirtless. Hallelujah! Watch:



The outtakes are more revealing, but you don't get to see those. Ah, the benefits of friendship.

Re: Extract. Let's get a few things out of the way first:

• This movie is fucking funny. I haven't laughed this hard and this consistently in a long time, and the pot-smoking scene sent me into convulsions.

• Jason Bateman does that thing that he does (that thing, you know, that he perfected in Arrested Development) and makes it look so effortless, while Ben Affleck reminds us of how disarmingly hilarious he can be.

• While I like filmmaker Mike Judge's cult classic, Office Space, well enough (I don't revere it as much as others), I thought that Idiocracy was even better and Extract is a delightfully logical progression of Judge's vision of an illogical world.

That said, the most interesting thing about Extract is this:

While the ads might have you believe that the movie is about a working man going through various midlife crises, Extract is really about how women have men by the balls—figuratively and literally. A wife suffocates her husband's nuts by withholding sex; a female con artist snake-charms men's cocks in order to swindle them; and a factory worker accidentally causes—but nonetheless causes—the destruction of a man's actual testicles.

I do wonder how the film's dark view of women plays to women (any redeeming moments for the film's females are fleeting), but I do know that I take pleasure in and laugh at the woes you straight people go through. Suckers.



See in theaters: Extract.

See on DVD, etc.: Idiocracy.

Unless Kanye West is now directing heavy metal videos behind the Iron Curtain, I have no idea what the hell this is. I do know that I'm aroused, but I can't tell if it's due to the sultry eyes or the hot bear ass. Watch:



[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

[Thanks to Isaac Butler at Parabasis.]

If you were raised Irish Catholic (comme moi), you hear the phrase "good dick" and you think, "Kind-hearted private detective. Bo-ring!" However, if given a minute to mull it over, you will probably (hopefully) be able to recall that "good dick" can mean something else. In this case, it's the title of an amazing under-the-radar little film written and directed by Marianna Palka, who also produced and stars. Mike's post the other day, about the hard times (HA HA!!) facing the porn industry, alerted me to the fact that it's my civic duty to tell you all about how much Good Dick may enrich your life—and the porn industry—for it very well make you want to run to your nearest video store for some you know what.

However, what's most fascinating about Good Dick is that despite the fact that it's cock, er, I mean chock-full of sexually explicit dialogue about penises and vaginas and sex and masturbation, we don't actually see anything (except for some G-rated masturbation). In fact, there's nothing to see. It's a love story wherein the main characters barely touch.

The acting, across the board, is nothing short of brilliant (the leading man is played by Jason Ritter, son of the late John Ritter). Even the supporting cast will blow you away. (AWAY, I said!) Most especially, Mark Webber shines as one of the video store clerks, and, if you don't know who Mark Webber is, you better Google the shit out of him while you can, 'cuz he's gonna be HUGE!

Anyway, I've said enough. I've said too much. Good Dick was just recently released to DVD, so get it while it's hot. Watch the trailer:

The college football season kicked off this weekend. Personally I’ve always been surprised Prince isn’t more of a college football fan. Sweaty, muscular young men bending over, running around, wrestling each other to the ground, and then patting each other on the ass seem just like his kind of thing. Okay, I’ll grant you that they wear so much padding and equipment that really the only part of their bodies that remains discernible is their ass.... Yeah, I still don’t see why Prince isn’t more into it.

Maybe it’s the lack of Asian-American players. Of the roughly 15,000 college football players, a quick Googling revealed just two Asians. Both of them play for the Virginia Tech Hokies: Ed Wang and his brother David. But who could forget the great Timmy Chang (pictured), former record setting quarterback for the University of Hawaii? Sure, U of H’s head coach got in trouble recently for using the word “faggot” in an interview, but a team that played with a giant pride rainbow on their helmets until 1999 would have to be appeal to Prince on some level.

Certainly it’s not the lack of gay players. ESPN the Magazine conducted a poll of college football players this summer and just under 50% said they had at least one gay teammate. In fact 70% of PAC-10 players said they had a gay teammate. The PAC-10 would be the teams out here on the west coast, so if Prince went to see a game at his new employer, USC, he just might meet a strapping young gay athlete eager to put on a Trojan uniform and play ball.

[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

Speaking of cock (no, I'm not referring to anything specific—I just always seem to be speaking of cock, don't I?), it is my pleasure to give away a pair of tickets to opening weekend of Ye Olde Cock & Balls, a new sketch comedy show from the fine folks at Dry Hump. That's a $30 value, you cheap bastards!

THE PRIZE: Two tickets to Ye Olde Cock & Balls on Thursday (September 10, 2009), Friday (September 11, 2009), or Saturday (September 12, 2009). Here are details about the production:

Dry Hump Presents

YE OLDE COCK & BALLS

September 10-19, 2009
Thursdays-Saturdays @ 9:00 p.m.

Tickets:
$15

McCadden Place Theatre
1157 N. McCadden Place
Los Angeles CA 90038

Visit Dry Hump Comedy.

THE RULES: E-mail me your full name and the date you'd like to go (the 10th, 11th, or 12th) by Tuesday, September 8, 2009, 12:30 p.m. One winner will be chosen at random and contacted via e-mail. That person must confirm the tickets with me by Wednesday, September 9, 2009, 12:00 p.m. or the tickets will go to someone else. Anyone in Los Angeles or anyone who's going to be in Los Angeles can enter, even those people who have won before.

Thanks to Dry Hump Comedy for making this ticket giveaway possible.

Mark Spiegler of Spiegler Girls talent agency recently sat down with the Los Angeles Times to discuss the rocky financial situation of the porn industry. With many consumers opting for free pornography via the Internet, the industry has suffered a severe decline across the board. "We've gone through recessions before," said Spiegler, "but we've never been hit from every side like this". The Los Angeles Times responded with "Really? Never?"

Performers like Savannah Stern have been hit the hardest financially. Most of the major production companies have suffered 30 to 50% profit losses over the last few years and often the performers are the first to feel the pinch from the decreased sales. "When you get used to a certain lifestyle," Stern said, "it's really hard to cut back." For the first time in porn history, it seems, smut peddlers will actually have to tighten their belts.

Read "Tough Times in the Porn Industry."

[Michael DeAntonio also blogs at Mike the Bull.]

I don't know about you, but I think Michael DeAntonio and Soleil McNeill have done a stellar job in their three weeks here as regular contributors—so stellar in fact that they have managed to tame my dictatorial impulses and hand-selected some entertaining video clips on their own that perfectly matched my tastes and this blog's sensibility.

Michael has also managed to blog about me, even though he isn't me, which I can only assume is because he wants to be me. But, then again, who doesn't?

This regular-contributor thing has been such a success so far that I'm going to throw one more writer into the Bamboo Nation orgy, er, I mean, stew, to see what happens.

Alan Goy, who pens the endlessly fascinating Experiment Farm blog, will be checking in about once a week to talk about sports and novels. "Wait a minute!" I hear you cry. "Prince has an aversion to sports and novels. What gives?!" Well, you'll have to wait and see. Alan's first post will appear on Sunday.

Enjoy these people! They're putting their very reputations on the line by being associated with this blog!

If you've ever been drunk, you may know how difficult it can be to tell the difference between an ashtray and your beer. Or an open glass door and a closed glass door. Or, even worse, you've been drunk in a house where all the walls were made of glass, and finding your way outside proved trickier than, well...putting on your flip flops! Watch: