Category Archives: Entertainment

Today in Giant Squid News: Pressure Builds as London Can’t Get Enough Καλαμάρι Γίγαντας

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Otherwise known as a large serving of calamari. 

‘Please, please tell your readers they cannot come to see the squid unless they book.’

Done.

Archie

Archie is proving rather popular. Ah, I must have a lot of British readers! Could London be facing Calamari Riots if everyone can’t get in to see the Giant Squid? There’s a two-month waitinglist now; the next few weeks will determine the course of the Calamari Uprising. Enquiring minds want to know what’s going to happen; the placards are guaranteed to be Flickr-worthy.  Here is historical background on today’s Giant Squid story. And here is the latest Καλαμάρι Γίγαντας news.

Over the past four days thousands have arrived to see Archie, the giant squid, after news of his unveiling – in a tank of pickling fluid in the basement of the museum’s Darwin Centre – had been revealed in newspapers and on television. ‘You could get about 600 portions of calamari out of him,’ admitted one particularly pragmatic member of museum staff.

Apparently, emotions surrounding Archie the Giant Squid are running as high as the attendance. And no wonder: ain’t that beeyooteeful?

First, of course, they named it. Archie. Say it with me, folks: Archie. Sheer poetry, ain’t it? Short for Architeuthis dux of course. The starchy old scientists say Archie has some gender issues, being probably female although it is hard to tell, especially in some of the outfits they wear nowadays (hey, they’re starchy old scientists!), but as a good lefty I say the gender issue is society’s fault, always labelling individuals, particularly those individuals who dare to be different, even unique as Archie so obviously is. As is Archie, so obviously. And, indeed, have you seen some of the outfits they wear nowadays? Here’s a hint: the ones with the boobs hanging out of their camisoles are female; the ones with the moobs mashed down in too-tight polycotton shirts are nerds.

Nay, it is not for us to decide Archie’s gender, nor even Archie’s name although, to tell the truth, Archie looks a little butch to me and might just go with it. I will avoid cheap references to seafood’s distinctive scent and “lesbian potpourri.” Yes, I shall avoid all such references, for lo I am way classy.

 And so is Archie, for they have declared him/her to be a work of art. Ah, we are as of one mind in this.

“We contacted Damien Hirst‘s group after seeing their animals preserved in formalin,” explained Mr Ablett.

Beauty, eh?

Archie in Tank

and the award for best Oscar coverage goes to:

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Defamer

Defamer Oscars

Snippets from the comments:

Lauren Bacall is going in my dead pool tomorrow.by windowseat on 03/05/06 06:13 PM 

I’m sorry. I was hitting the bong for a moment. Did that chick just hit on Clooney during her acceptance speech? by HollywoodSexandCandy on 03/05/06 06:21 PM

I just Adore that Oscar-Speech-Background-Music! It makes Everyone’s Speech sound so Over The Top and Dramatic, even when they are just thanking their “Producing Partners!” I need to get that orchestra to play behind me the next time My Mom Calls And Asks Me To Explain Why I Am 36 And Still Single. Or I Break Up With A Boyfriend/ “Producing Partner.” by TheDailyRandi on 03/05/06 06:27 PM

And I remind you that the very best thing about drinking extremely expensive booze and then posting is the glorious perfection of the nonsequitage. Behold:

I’ll never forgive Lily Tomlin for nixing Devo‘s appearance on her 80s variety show because she was so offended by the “Whip It” video.by King of All Hacks on 03/05/06 07:08 PM

Thank you for sharing.

And now, the penultimate Oscar coverage, the one you’ve all been waiting for (because you’re too lazy to click on the link, aren’t you, bitches? I know my people):
 

8:23pm: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
God help us all. The sky has opened, Beezlebub has dumped his infernal payload of obvious evil on an unsuspecting Earth. Life as we know it is over. Drive to the desert and start a new civilization, hoping that our horrible, horrible mistakes will not be repeated. This is the end, friends. See you in Hell.

Matt Dillon, the bloggers are not your friends. Crash

Apocalypse Wow!

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Is this the worst movie ever made? Dear readers, you will have to tell me, for lo, I haveth not the space on my hard drive, and besides, I’m afraid what all my cool documents will say about me behind my back if I force them to make room for the abomination which is The Day the Clown Cried.

Spy Day the Clown Cried

This is proof positive that, no matter how awful a thing may be, how apocalyptically degenerate, how earth-shatteringly horrific, it will, in the fullness of time, get its own fansite.

Where’s mine, bitches?

The site includes not one but TWO scripts for downloading, a first draft and a final, along with comparative analysis (and never has the word “anal” been more apt) and a compendium of articles on this lost meisterstroke (and never has the word “stroke” aw, fergit it).

Lordy, I’m filthy-minded today. Good thing I work for a singles club!

In any case, here is a snippet from the very fine Spy article in which I first learned of the existence of this work of lost…crapitude. And here is the entire article, for those whose lives do not contain enough pain.

JERRY GOES TO DEATH CAMP by Bruce Handy
Illustrations by Drew Friedman
from “Spy Magazine” – May 1992

To artists and intellectuals, the twentieth century has posed no questions more vexing than these:

First, can art make sense of the Holocaust? 

And second, why do the French love Jerry Lewis?

The first question can’t really be answered, at least not in the space allotted here. As for the second, it’s my own opinion that the French have confused sloppy, uneven filmmaking with Godardian anti-formalism.  Regardless, raising these two issues on the same page is not just a pointless exercise in non-sequitur.  Because Jerry Lewis, like Elie Wiesel and Primo Levi before him — not to mention the producers of the NBC ministeries Holocaust — has transformed the incomprehendible into art.

He did this two decades ago, in 1972, a year of cultural ferment that also saw a black man, Sammy Davis Jr., snuggle Richard Nixon on national television.  It was Lewis’ 41st film (but his first to deal with the mass destruction of European Jewry), and it turned out to be the most notorious cinematic miscue in history — unfinished, unreleased, said by the few who’ve seen it to be  almost unwatchable.  Oh, there are also Von Stroheim’s Queen Kelly and Welles’ Don Quixote, among other busts.  But no other film, seen or unseen, can boast both Nazi death camps and the auteur responsible for The Nutty Professor.

There is only one The Day the Clown Cried.

It sounds like a punchline in an overheated Hollywood satire:  Jerry Lewis in Auschwitz. Depending on your taste, the prospect may be as offensive or as inttriguing as … well, truly, no metaphor measures up to the particulars.  A synopsis:

An unhappy German circus clown is sent to a concentration camp and forced to become a sort of genocidal Pied-Piper, entertaining Jewish children as he leads them to the gas chambers.

The story is meant to be played as drama.  By all accounts, no one sings “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, and Tony Orlando does not appear.
Clown Crying

Who’s in play?

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It’s a good question. Here, courtesy of BoingBoing is La Molle Industria, a website that claims to lay it out for you in funfunhappyhappy Engerish terms…only not. I like it very much, although I have no need for the Orgasm Simulator.

Eg:

Tamatipico

Tamatipico Is Your virtual flexworker: He works, he rests and he has fun when you want him to! Raise his productivity but pay attention to his energy and his happyness because he could get injured or strike.

Questionnaires of Pensacola

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He’s back!

Rance 

Questions heartlessly stolen from Rance which you can find over there on the right in the Blogroll. You could read the story to get the context for these questions, but since I didn’t even do that in school I see no reason to start at my advanced age. To get the context for Rance, well, that’s a whole other kettle of kippers.

1) Is the glass half empty, or half full?

The glass is imaginary, therefore this question, like all life, is meaningless. Cheers!

2) (Other than Bolidar), does true evil exist? Explain.

But is Bolidar true or false? Evil can never be true, only false; we know this a priori; if Bolidar is evil, then Bolidar is false. It’s true. But then, this is a work of fiction, which is false. This, also, is true. Discuss. Isn’t this the question they asked Norman the android on that old episode of Star Trek?

3) Isaac and Morgan are convicted of numerous crimes, including “swimming to far from shore.” Have you ever been convicted of a crime? Should you have been?

But where is “far from shore” and why isn’t it capitalized? It’s close enough to swim to, though, so it must be around here somewhere. I can’t swim very far, so I’m gonna assume it’s within my striking distance, as most fictional authors want their readers to identify somewhat with the characters; therefore, “far from shore” must be Granville Island, which is about how far I can swim if I start from the north side of False Creek. But swimming isn’t a crime in Vancouver, although False Creek itself is a crime against Nature, but a very pretty one at that. Have I ever been convicted of a crime? Nobody, ever, in the history of the world, has even accused me of having convictions! Faugh! I laugh in your face…wherever it is. Consider it laughed in. Heartily.

Hey, when did Dave Eggers take over my brain?

4) What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever heard a bird say?

“The mynahs are on sale.” No, really, it was some gawdy, pimped-out macaw in a Surrey mall. Can you imagine ratting out the fellow avians to turn a quick buck? In his last incarnation this fine feathered Fagin was, no doubt, a Somali slave dealer. And in his next? Stage parent. 

5) Haiki sounds like it should be the plural form of haiku. Write a PoP related haiku.

The cashier had bad
hayfever, no sense of smell
But could see garlic.

I was in retail far too long. PoP=Point of Purchase=till. The haiku is also, however, Pirates of Pensacola-related in that I wouldn’t have written about a stuffed-up till monkey if not for the questionnaire, so there ya go. I shoulda bin a lawer. Note, please, subtle classical Japanese reference to the season, cloaked within an evocative noun. I be subtizzle, yo.

6) A character is described as “Not the brightest bulb anywhere there are bulbs.” What’s you favorite euphemism for “stupid”?

I rarely euphemize. I prefer to euthanize, ie make my first blow a stunning one, so that the victim does not feel pain, is not even aware of the attack, until much later, preferably in a subsequent lifetime when the victim is a life form which is much smaller and, therefore, unable to kick my ass. If pressed, I’d have to say “Knucklewalking” though. If you press me again, however, I’ll bop you one.

7) As a child, were you good at hide & seek? What was your favorite hiding place?

Bali. In fact, it’s my favorite hiding place now. Some day I may even get there. If pressed (there it is again!) I do take refuge in the realm of the imagination, where nobody expects to find me.

God, when did PeterPan take over my brain?

8) What was the most misguided act of chivalry you’ve seen? Is chivalry dead? Should it be?

I have an alibi and no further comment at this time.

9) Where was the elusive hiding place of the key to the Sea Patrol boat?

The key to the Sea Patrol boat is that it works even if you just use oars. That’s the real key.

10) Do you have any tattoos? Details, please.

Details? You are gay!