First off, go take a look at this: http://www.dieselsweeties.com/strips/sw150.shtml.

That alone was enough to get me spend an hour or so of my life reading every single strip from the Diesel Sweeties series -- an hour well spent, I'd say (especially since I would have spent the hour actually doing, you know, work). I can only compare this comic to the brilliance of the Jim comics. Very low-key. Don't always make the most sense. But still fabulous and engaging.

Of course, these strips contain sexy robots and lots of indie rock humor. Those of you who know me know that I firmly believe that indie rock and robots enhance anything. No, really. Anything. Dinner at fancy restaurant? Imagine a robot violinist playing "Slack Motherfucker." So much better. Martha Stewart Living? Imagine Martha teaching a robot how to embroider binary code on a gas station workshirt. Now, that's a good thing!

Robots. Indie Rock. Sex. Bitchin'.

Rating: A (Routinely brilliant)

Topics: websites

Kansas City, 10/14/96

Ellroy reads Delillo. Ellroy grooves on Libra. Ellroy takes the challenge. Ellroy writes American Tabloid.

The crits love it. Time gives it best of year.

Follow the money. Write a sequel. Steal from yourself. Do it like White Jazz. Declare war on adjectives. Declare war on conjunctions concurrent.

Dig the short sentences. Keep it terse. Keep it hard. Repeat yourself lots. Don't let the prose get in the way. The story's where it's at.

Follow Bondurant. More work for Cuba. More work for la causa. More work in craaazy Vietnam.

Follow Littell. New girl. New job with the SCLC. Still a wild card. Still a closet liberal. Not going to end well.

Follow the Kennedys. Follow MLK. Keep it short. Keep it hard. Follow the story.

Dig it.

Rating: B (If you could survive this review, you'll probably like the book)

Topics: books

If I stand in line for a Grilled Stuft Burrito, I am indeed a jerk! This bland entry, even with chicken included, is as disappointing as my date with Elsa Benitez. The burrito in its paper wrap seemed curiously solid, and in fact opening the wrapper revealed a burrito as inflexible as any directly removed from the freezer at the supermarket. The burrito does indeed appear to have been grilled, as evidenced by more-than-golden-brown bars on the sides of the rectangular-prism, as if it had been placed on the grill, and had had the complete works of Poe placed on it to ensure a nice flat shape and dark grill marks.

Lest one worry that the grill marks are only a visual gimmick, rest assured that they are indeed legitimate, and have a fairly unappealing scorched-tortilla taste which reminds one why one does not normally feel the need to char a burrito to a dark brown. The taste overpowers the entire burrito, and only a decent drenching in hot sauce (three packets for a single burrito is about average) can even begin to redeem the Grild Stuft Burrito.

Rating: D (Darker than it should be)

Topics: fast food, taco bell

I've had this album for about 2 months - in that time, I've passed it by for other music in my collection, both new and old. The album itself has moved from one CD shelf (on this rickety, cheap "adjustable shelf" monstrosity) to another (on this not-so-cheap, rotating CD carousel); from one side of my room to another; from one end of the state in a neglected bin to the conspicuous confines of my hefty collection. But in all this movement, the booklet hasn't been removed, the CD hasn't been taken from the case, and the price tag wasn't even removed. Whatever reason there might be to blame for this, it certainly wasn't for lack of interest - were that the case, I wouldn't have bothered dropping the cash to pick this up. Maybe the CD thinks that was the case, though, for when I finally played it, it seemed to hold a serious grudge against me.

Atari Teenage Riot are the originators, innovators, and creators of Digital Hardcore (the music, and the record label). For a description of their sound, look no further than the name - just replace the usual guitar-drums backing of regular hardcore punk with samplers, drum machines, and other studio machinery, and there you are. Same screaming, same anger, and (in some ways) the same rhetoric. It some ways, this digital hardcore sounds weaker - drum machines, no matter how many BPMs they're doing, will never sound as fierce as actual drums. However, using machines does have its advantages - hearing the nonstop onslaught of the first two tracks give way to an actual string backing in "Western Decay" is more jarring & disruptive than any actual pedal-to the-floor bleeeeaaaarrrggghhh!! could be.

Alec Empire (the DHR / ATR mastermind) certainly knows what he's doing behind the boards - the backings created by him and co-ATRer Nic Endo are interesting enough, creating soundscapes from spastic Rolands and other obnoxious squeals. However, these backdrops fail to keep the pro-forma hardcore motifs (the screaming, the drums, the screaming) from getting stale. Ironically, the track on this album that shares the name of Alec's empire ("Digital Hardcore") turns out to be a complete mess, bouncing from staccato drumming to random voices to other discordant choices, with each section well outlasting its welcome. It's no surprise to me, though, given what the album revealed itself to be.

No, I wasn't a big fan of the vocals (which seemed to be approximating the CAPITAL LETTERS and exclamation points spread throughout the lyrics in the liner notes). And, no, I really couldn't tell what they were all so angry about (since the lyrics I could make out were of the generic / universal angry-at-the-man variety). However, I wanted to give this a shot. While the group's energy and creativity carried me through the first few songs, I soon slid into a bored slump. Upon further though, I decided to appreciate it the same way that I've learned to appreciate Big Black - for the "rock", both musically and vocally. However, even Big Black knew enough to take the piss out of their ridiculously aggressive stance. Maybe ATR was going for that affect by name-checking their group like a bunch of would-be hip-hop homies bling-blingin' the jigga wha. That made me chuckle, but I don't think that was the desired effect.

Somewhere around "Ghostchase", my cool-noise appreciation shield dropped, and I soon hit the same rut that I hit whenever I listen to most regular hardcore. After hearing someone scream at the...

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Topics: albums

I'm hoping there are at least a few of you out there who are familiar with the exceedingly bad film, Prince of Space, most likely from its airing on Mystery Science Theater 3000. The film is apparently structured as some sort of Dantean torture, in which the same poorly rendered scenes are repeated ad infinitum. The aliens arrive and threaten the earth. The Prince of Space confronts them and informs them that their weapons are useless against him. The aliens ignore him, only to find that their weapons are, in fact, useless against him. They flee into space, then return to start the whole damn thing over again.

Clearly, the makers of The Patriot were going for the same feel. The British do someting bad to the colonists, usually Mel Gibson's character (Sorry, can't remember his character's name -- I have better things to do with my brain). The colonists, angry with the death of their relatives, get back at the British. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Look, I know that war is a cyclical sort of thing. It's supposed to be repetitive, but this isn't exactly a realistic war film. Any war film where people attack each other with flags loses a lot of credibility in my book. Yeah, I'm sure someone's used a flag in anger at one point or another in the heat of combat, but I would imagine never so effectively as depicted here.

I could certainly go into more depth about how bad this is. I suppose if you're inclined to see this, you've probably seen it already so I can't help much.

For those of you who haven't seen it, I should probably explain the most bizarre factor, the absurdly long running time. This is a dumb popcorn movie, and yet it runs three hours. Seems bizarre, until you realize the ENTIRE LAST HOUR is in slo-mo! I haven't seen slo-mo like this since Triplecross.

Rating: F (Long AND Bad -- A Lethal Combination)

Topics: movies

Growing up in the Midwest gives you a pretty skewed idea of Mexican food. Take, for instance, the burritos that were routinely made in my household.

Step 1 (Preparation) - Heat up refried beans in the microwave. Shred cheese. Dice onions.

Step 2 (Cooking) - Put butter in hot pan. Put tortilla in pan. Put everything else in tortilla. Get it nice and crispy.

Sort of like an omlet, but usually a little more burnt.

I considered this to be a proper burrito well into my time living in Southern California, until I shared this technique with people, all of whom were disgusted. "Burritos," they said, "do not get grilled. You steam the tortilla, stuff, and eat."

And, like a good little lamb, I complied, and, truth be told, I generally prefer my burritos this way now, and just assumed that my mother had a bizarre concept of burrito-making.

But now...

Now I have justification! No less an authority on Mexican food than TACO BELL has confirmed this method of Burrito-Making. "It's [their] best burrito yet!" the ads scream. Ha! See! Grilling it "seals in the flavor!" Why did you not listen to me? You could have been ahead of the game if only you had listened to me! Now you have to stand in line like a jerk to get a Grilled Burrito! You could have befriended me years ago and eaten your fill of them! But no. You laughed at me. Don't think I haven't forgotten.

Bwahahahahahaa.

Revenge is sweet. Especially with a side of Cinnamon Twists.

Rating: B (Gains points for vindication. Loses points for poor spelling.)

Topics: fast food, taco bell

The Buckets are apparently a one-off project from members of Ed's Redeeming Quality, who are all right, even if they do reek a little bit of would-be-high-brow-novelty-band-status. Sadly this side project serves only to enhance that "this is all really a very droll joke" feel, only this time the joke appears to be that they're a country band. Ha ha.

The A-side ("Cowgirls") is annoying. Does absolutely nothing for me.

The B-side ("Western Star") is almost a good enough song to overcome the annoying lyrics. Nice fiddle, banjo, ukelele arrangement, but not quite enough to shake the stigma of novelty band.

Rating: C+ (Trying to be funny. Failing.)

Topics: singles

This 7" appears to have been "liberated" from WHUL. Maybe WHLL. I think the station got the better part of the deal. They freed up precious library space for, say, that old Anton LaVey 7". I got stuck with yet another piece of vinyl I will feel obliged to haul cross-country next time I move. Bleurgh.

Rating: F

Topics: singles

I get Frankenfinger confused with Electric Frankenstein on a regular basis. One of those garagey Southern bands that has never successfully interested me enough to actually listen to them (despite the fact that I own at least one 7" by each band)

Actually, looking at this stack I've got here, I appear to have at least two Frankenfinger 7"'s. At some point, maybe I'll explain why I have as many singles as I do with no knowledge of what exactly comprises the collection, but today is not the day.

Fortunately, I put the B-Side on first. Hmmmm.... what have we here. This is very strange, and not at all what I was expecting. Very odd story about getting a butterknife and doing nothing with it, though the narrator puts herself in the position to maim her mother, brother, and beloved kitty cat. This is pretty funny! And fun to listen to! Kinda like that "Pocketful of Sugar" song from that Godco album, only with a homicidal instead of lesbian subtext. I like it!

Bah. The A-Side is pretty lame. "Freezerhead" is about exactly what you would expect (as long as you were expecting a song about someone with a freezer for a head). I'm not even going to finish listening to "Zodiac Killer." But "Butterknife" rocks. I'll listen to another one of their singles. Maybe today.

Rating: B+ (The B-Side saves it)

Topics: singles

This appears to be an emo band. I've never heard of them. Maybe they're not emo anymore. I'm having a hard time figuring out what emo is. What I think of as math rock appears to have become emo somehow. I'm confused. Emo also seems to sell a lot of copies of records, which doesn't exactly coincide of my memories of Heroin failing to draw more than about 15 people to come see them. Maybe I'm just out of touch. Wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Anyhow, Niner's doing the slow/quiet thing interspersed with the loud/screamy thing. And they like waltz rhythms. That makes 'em emo in my book. Pretty good. "One Force Down" is fun to rock out to. "Trinity"'s a little boring, but not bad to chill out to. Plus the label was giving them away, which either means it's funded by a trust fund baby or they are really into the whole socialist punk rock thing. Either way is okay with me

Rating: B (I appear to be a sucker for old-school emo)

Topics: singles

Are the Friggs big rock stars now? In my mind, once you have a song of yours appear in a movie, you're well on your way to having your own Behind the Music. Maybe my concept of the whole fame n' fortune thing is a little out of whack. At any rate, they're probably got a few more people who've heard their song than had prior to its inclusion in Jawbreaker. The song of which I speak is, of course, "Bad Word for a Good Thing," which must have come out in '93 or so. Good song. I played it a lot back in the early days of my college DJ career. I think I probably put it on a mix tape or two. And I was just as surprised as the next SFTRI fan when I heard it crop in a crap-fest like Jawbreaker.

So, I figure they're big rock stars now. Of course, I can't think of a lot of releases since that one, other than this 7" I've got here. It's all right. Nothing to distinguish them from the seemingly unending hoardes of people doing the surfy-garage thing. "Shake" consists of a pretty boring surf guitar riff, which periodically stops so they call all yell "Shake." Snore.

"Wild Love" is a non-catchy pop song. What's the point?

See, this is the downside to being big rock stars. You have to deal with vicious snarkiness from indie snobs like me. Ha. Take that, Friggs!

Rating: D+

Topics: singles

Now, take a look at this cover. What do you think this sounds like? Something sauve. Something smooth. Something European.

But no.

It rocks.

This cover should not be on a rockin' single. Look at that logo for the band. Look at the girl with short hair and a fluffy sweater. This is a Swedish-pop wannabe band, not 4/4 indie rock.

But it is. Straight-ahead, crunchy guitar, indie rock. Pretty catchy. Upbeat. All the things I would look for if the cover was a xeroxed picture of, oh I don't know, a rusty Peterbilt logo on a truck.

I know I should look beyond cover art. This is an auditory medium. Cover art means nothing.

Except when you get it wrong

Rating: B- (Once you get past the deception, not bad)

Topics: singles

I cannot express how thrilled I was the day I realized that the large quanity of free, mostly-horrible singles I had acquired contained this 7". I have long-standing love for this single, and, more importantly, for the collected works of The Philistines Jr.

For those who do not know, TPJ (no idea if this is an accepted abbreviation, but my fingers are getting sore) have been churning out great indie pop/rock for somewhere around a decade, releasing the bulk of it on their own Tarquin Records. They apparently have a new album ready to go, but are unable to find funding, which ranks up there with the starvation of children worldwide as far as global travesties go in my (admittedly off-base) view of the world. There have to be enough people out there who would chip in $20 or so to help pay for costs in exchange for a copy of the CD when it finally comes out. Aren't there?

Anyway, this may well be my favorite thing TPJ ever released. The A-Side is a brilliant, if historically wrong, tribute to Christopher Columbus (who sailed out in 1492 with 2 ships, according to one of the vocalist) Brilliant.

But nothing compared to the B-Side.

Two great 80's covers: "Melt with You" and "Kids in America" PLAYED AT THE SAME TIME ON DIFFERENT CHANNELS. Sorry for yelling, but it's so damn brilliant. You use the balance to select which song you want to hear! Fabulous! (Except, of course, on my record player, which is mono, so plays them both at once)

Yes, I know this sounds very close to a novelty single (We all know how I feel about novelty bands) and, truth be told, these guys do routinely lapse into novelty recordings in some of their affiliate projects (most notably The Zambonis) but TPS albums are much closer to concept albums with horribly flawed concepts. Like the rock opera about a sinking of a ship that takes place in reverse chronological order. Not terribly funny, just amusingly misguided.

Misguided... and brilliant, that is.

Rating: A+ (Top of the line)

Topics: singles

BEATEN WITH AN EXCLUSIVE CLUB

Kenneth Turan's Fight Club review reads like something The Man told him to say. It is a very culturally inappropriate film for all the right reasons: it does, as Turan claims, suggest that violence isn't so bad. But KT never considers this as a plausible option. Of course Waco and Columbine were bleak moments in our world, but this is not mutually exclusive to the concept that a primal scream, a yawp of desperation, is a valid action, reaction, and if two men want to fight because they feel, without my blaming them, that modern life is rough and stale, they may have found something valuable. To dismiss the fights as "violence" is blind - we must draw a line between two consenting adults practicing violence and Columbine as clearly as between consensual sex and rape.

I won't suggest that Fight Clubs should exist or speculate that copycat FCs will ever spring up. Most of us won't join for the same reason we didn't fight much before seeing the movie: we don't want to be beaten up. But if the characters have found a way out of their computer jobs, without - in a looser sense - hurting anyone, for their harm to each other is as willingly accepted as the masochists (and in fact the FC may be more masochism than sadism, for the prevailing desperation is not to inflict pain, but to feel sensation, the reward not a broken hand but a black eye, not the idea of burning someone but the enlightenment that comes with the scar) - why not?

There is a primal uncivilized way of looking at everything. Baseball, somewhere beneath the surface, below the double switch and infield fly rule, is about being afraid to be hit by a 90 mph baseball. Somewhere in modern society, beneath IKEA catalogs and Nielsen ratings, is the feat that someone will punch you very hard. FC - the club, not the movie - and thus the movie as well - is a removal of the infield fly rule, the rules of dating, and competing long-distance carriers, until what you have is FC versus instinct. The FC represents the desire to feel pain and snap out of it (life rut), and at the root of the movement is a glorious contradiction: wanting pain against the biological, social and personal need not to be beaten severely.

It is a daring act to fight instead of flee, a step of declaring the courage and ability to stand stronger than fear - less about fighting than about not running, and less about proving mettle in the fight than proving mettle to yourself.

MORE SICK WRONGHEADEDNESS

The reviewers thinking it's sexual, and least Turan didn't fall into this trap, are sick, sick people. Why do they assume that physical roughness between two people is sexual? Because they think it's more natural than violence? If they think sexual activity means conflict, fury, cracked ribs, and that violent behavior is a stand-in, a signifier for sex, well, they need to get some [help].

IN THE VAGUEST SENSE

Christopher Nash wrote in Culture of Narcissism of the social irresponsibility of the New Age movement - not the Enya style but the primal style, the men-screaming-in-a-forest style, and in fact Dargis' review suggests that FC satirizes the men's self-help movement. Nash points out that [not so much] the self-help movement [as the urge to scream], representing as it...

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Topics: movies

We at Chucklehound are pleased to announce the first in our demos of our patent-pending, excrutiatingly scientific viewer focus groups, meant to provide movie studios with an exact prediction of how the film will fare. The method is surprisingly simple: find a small viewing sample that perfectly meet the target audience requirements for a given film, then extrapolate their enthusiasm for the film to the population at large based on the estimated percentage of the American population that also matched the target demographic. Simple.

So, without further ado, let's begin.

The sample audience for this film consists of two subjects, Subject A and Subject B. Both subjects fall in the upper end of the highly desirable 13-25 year old demographic bracket. Both have shown an apparently unending willingness to see teen films of all types, from teen angst comedies (She's All That, Drive Me Crazy) to teen horror (The Rage: Carrie 2, Halloween: H20) and, more importantly, claim to actually like these films.

Both subjects were devout viewers of Freaks and Geeks so are increasingly more likely to enjoy a film featuring James Franco than would the majority of the American public. Further, Subject A harbors a lingering positive attitude towards Shawnee Smith (based more on her work in Who's Harry Crumb? than her work in recent bad sitcoms like Becker), and, while Shawnee isn't actually in this film, Marla Sokoloff is indistinguishable to the naked eye and should play upon these positive feelings. Subject B was a regular watcher of Doogie Howser, MD, so presumably will respond well to the Neil Patrick Harris-esque acting style of this film's leading man, Shane West.

Fabulous. We have clearly identified and acquired the correct targest audience. Let's listen in to a few choice comments from their viewing of the film.

Subject A: If you're already committed to having a giant penis in your film, why not have nudity?

Subject B: How did this get made?

Subject A: This is really bad.

Subject B: No, this is painfully bad.

Subject A: I laughed a few times. Well, I suppose I was laughing at the movie, not really with it...

So, multiplying the enthusiasm shown (1 on a scale of 100) by the size of the demographic group, we can conclusively predict that this film will make somewhere between eight and nine million dollars domestically.

Maybe we should have run this piece a year ago....

Rating: D- (Somewhere between "really" and "painfully" bad)

Topics: movies

I think the best place to start with this film is the cover of the video box. It's one of those things that, if left untalked about, will keep anyone from thinking about anything else. I know I had that problem with early reviews of Wonder Boys. "So, you say it's a great movie, but what the hell is the matter with that poster? Is he a child molester or what?" Committed faces a similar problem. Why is Heather Graham wearing skin-tight leather pants, sneering poorly, and thrusting her ring finger at me in an extremely agressive manner? The Brady Bunch font used for the credits on the box doesn't help either. Honestly, the cover prevented me from renting this video when I saw it at the store, and I probably would have avoided it on TV had I made the connection between title and cover. I'm not sure whether this is part of Heather Graham's elaborate plan to keep people from focusing on her physical appearance by contorting herself into unflattering poses at every opportunity, or if she is so unpleasant to be around that photographers routinely place her into horrible positions (I'm thinking here of the cover of Talk magazine, on which she squatted like a frog.)

Whew. Glad to get that out of the way.

So, once you make it past the box, this is a pretty good movie. Young woman gets married. Husband freaks out and disappears. She tracks him down, stalks him for a bit, befriends his new lover, then spends some more time following him until she learns to give up on the relationship. So far, nothing that I would rush to the theaters to see. But cast Luke Wilson as the husband and I'm contractually obligated to see it (I signed a contract with the Wilsons' parents saying I'd see anything their three boys do. Even Anaconda.)

And, just to make things more interesting, throw in Clea DuVall in a bit part as a lesbian friend. Fabulous. I can't get enough of Clea DuVall playing lesbians, which is fortunate, since neither can she, apparently. She's great. Luke Wilson is great. Casey Affleck continues to grow on me by leaps and bounds (just like a rash!). He's got all of his brother's "check it out, dude, I'm in a movie!" attitude, but without the somewhat disquieting fratboy vibe. I always get the impression that if I met Ben Affleck he'd shove me into a urinal and flush. Casey, though, would just mutter at me and eventually offer me a beer. Much better (and more hygenic!)

Which leaves us with the main character, portrayed by Heather Graham. She's all right, but this part is just a little much for her. They were going for a kind of funky bohemian type, and she just doesn't seem either funky or bohemian to me at all. She seems kinda prissy and not too bright. Maybe Clea and Heather could have switched roles. I'd buy Heather as a hipster lesbian if I only had to do it for ten minutes or so. But the film really spends a lot of time with her, and, honestly, I don't want to spend that much time with Heather Graham.

(It should be noted, at least in passing, that this movie has some AMAZING music courtesy of Calexico. If you don't see the movie, at least listen to the soundtrack.)

Rating: B (If only they hadn't put Heather Graham in it)

Topics: movies

Those of you out there who are big Chucklehound Entertainment fans will notice that the corporate headquarters for Chucklehound relocated about a year ago from sunny Claremont, California (heart of the unstoppable Inland Empire Lo-Fi Rock Revolution) to cold and boring Harwich, Massachusetts. Even though there is plenty to complain about, one of the worst is the lack of availabilty of product from the afore-mentioned Inland Empire scene, most notably Shrimper Records releases. There is an undefinable thrill at being able to go down to your local record store and pick up the latest cassette by the Amps for Christ or Furniture Huschle. Sadly, this thrill is completely lost to me now.

Or so I thought....

This morning, I popped into the local Border's to get a birthday present for my dad and caught, out of the corner of my eye, a Dennis Callaci record cover. "Huh?" I said aloud. "Did I really see that? I am just going through Shrimper withdrawl hallucinations?"

At this point, numerous people were staring at me as I sprinted towards the music section. "Hell, yeah!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs, as I plunged my hands into the CD racks and withdrew the CD version of Dump's That Skinny Motherfucker with the High Voice.

After spending a few minutes trying to convince the Border's staffers to let me make my purchase before they forcibly ejected me from the store, I took a good look at what I had acquired. It appears to be a CD-reissue of the seminal Shrimper cassette of the same name that was released back in '99 (a cassette, it is worth mentioning, was the first factory-duplicated cassette release in Shrimper's release). A quick glimpse of the track listings reveals that it contains not only the fabulous tracks from the cassette, but bonus tracks! Who doesn't love bonus tracks? (though, in an ideal world, the cassette would have more tracks than the CD...)

I must say, though, for all my avowed love of magnetic tape and vinyl, there is something to be said for the peace of mind of knowing that I can leave this in the car without it being melted into plastic scrap. (I've gotten in the habit of buying multiple copies of Shrimper tapes for exactly that reason...) The bonus tracks are nice, but draw from some of the weaker selections in Prince's catalog.

Did I forget to mention that the whole album is a selection of Prince covers? That's the sort of thing you're supposed to mention in these things, right?

Huh?

I'm supposed to provide interesting info about the band as well? But that's so boring!

All right, all right. I'll give you band info.

Dump is James McNew.

There! You happy?

Who's James McNew? You're kidding, right?

You need to get out more.

Hey, there's no need for violence! Fine, James McNew is the bassist and sometimes guitarist and vocalist for Yo La Tengo.

You don't know who Yo La Tengo are? To quote Flavor Flav, "I can't do nuthin' for you, man."

To further quote Mr. Flav, "Yo mama's got brass nipples."

No, I don't know what that means either. Leave me alone, I've got a review to finish here.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, this album is a collection of Prince covers done in Dump's usual lo-fi wall-of-sound approach. The production works well on all the songs, but after a certain point, there's only so much you can do with A Love Bizarre. However, the...

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Rating: B-

Topics: albums

Now, I know you're supposed to go into films like this with the lowest of expectations, and, believe me, I did. In the past nine months, I have been to the movies exactly twice, so the theory was that anything would seem good at this point. I've sat through a variety of David Spade vehicles in the past, and found them boring, but not distinctly painful.

Joe Dirt, on the other hand, is both boring and painful. I was ready for it to end within five minutes of the opening credits. Any movie whose most-talked-about scene involves the title character being covered in human feces is bound to have problems, but the problem isn't so much with the attempted offensiveness (I think most of the audience wanted far worse things to be inflicted upon David Spade by that point in the film), but with the fact that there is only ONE JOKE IN THE WHOLE FREAKIN' FILM!!!

You could look at the movie poster for 90 minutes and derive basically the same experience for significantly less expense to you (unless you rack up a loitering charge while hanging around the movie theater). I suppose if you are really entertained by David Spade's wig, you might enjoy the film, but you'd have to be really entertained.

What makes this film even more painful is the very brief respite provided by Christopher Walken. Not only does this prevent the film from claiming the "Worst Film Ever" trophy, it unfairly raises the audience's hopes that someone involved in the film has some idea of what constitutes humor (in this case, Mr. Walken dancing with a mop and threatening a fire extinguisher -- yeah, I know it doesn't sound funny, but remember what had been done to my standards by this point in the film)

Hopefully, I don't need to tell you to avoid this like the plague. Or a plaque. Whichever.

Rating: F (Is that really any surprise?)

Topics: movies

I find this to be one of the stranger corporate decisions in recent years. Burger King has gone through the trouble of entering this item on their touchpads, but have yet to put it on the menu, mention it in ads, etc. The only way this product exists is through word-of-mouth among vegetarians who are always pleased to find a fast-food chain cater to them.

Not to say this is anything I'd expect Burger King to brag about. It's bun with lettuce, tomato, cheese, mayo, and ketchup on it. Even a TV ad featuring 50's rock would not be able to make this sound like an especially exciting menu item. Still, for non-meat eaters (particularly those on the road) having an option other than Subway and Taco Bell is always nice.

Sadly, living in Southern California raises the bar on meat-free burgers. This sandwich doesn't hold a candle to a Wild Thing Grilled Cheese at EZ Take Out or an Animal Style Grilled Cheese with Onions at In-N-Out Burger. But, since the nearest In-N-Out is about 3000 miles away, this will have to do for now.

Rating: C (It'll do in a pinch)

Topics: fast food