Greetings and salutations, Pajibans. Do you remember how I said you guys are clever and lovely? It’s absolutely true and sometimes you spin comments of gossamer and wit that stop me in my tracks, and sometimes you spend over 150 comments using those impressive brain stems of yours to devise filmic euphemisms for poop. And I love you all and wouldn’t have it any other way.
I think I’ve proven that I’m not a comics person, never have been never shall be, but I did see Mallrats, so I cheer for Stan Lee getting a star on Hollywood Blvd. Yaaay! I’m sort of fascinated by how folks handle this photo op. Do you remember that Emma Thompson brought a pig and a pint to hers? Anyway, I thought for a brief second that Lee was doing devil horns in this photo and then I shuddenly remember my Shpiderman. (The Washington Post)
It’s done, it’s over, kill it with fire. Leonard Cohen, NPR and I all agree that there needs to be a moratorium on the song “Hallelujah.” In film, on television, piping out of dorm rooms, plucked plaintively on acoustic guitars. Done. Stop. Listen to Jeff Buckley’s “Lover You Should Have Come Over” instead. Double the mournful, half “The OC” associations. (NPR)
When my folks text me, as they do, I’m not sure which discomfits me more, the wild stabs at modern texting slang, or the over-lengthy, unsuitable for a text content. This awesome mom nailed both. (When Parents Text)
JENNY MCCARTHY LIED TO ME ABOUT AUTISM? That’s it, Chris Hardwick, the “Singled Out” legacy of scientific authority and unimpeachable veracity rests solely on your shoulders now. Don’t let me down. (NY Times)
“Or, you know what, maybe I’m just gay.” Oh, James Franco, marry me. Unless you’re actually gay. Nope, even if you’re gay. (Entertainment Weekly)
In which Helen Mirren speaks about her fondness for stripper heels and somehow comes off sounding classier than ever. (Celebitchy)
Okay, this link is for the gays, the musical nerds, and me. Everyone else, carry on. Barbra Streisand is rumored to direct, produce and star in a new production of “Gypsy.” Don’t worry, folks, she’s slated to play “Mama Rose” and so will get nowhere near any of the bumping or grinding. And you’re welcome for that image. (The Film Experience)
Okay, you say Don DeLillo I think not so fondly of a particularly tough Post-Modern Fiction class I took as an undergrad. You say David Cronenberg plus Don DeLillo I think about metaphorical stair sex, flapping mandibles and ennui. You say David Cronenberg plus Don DeLillo plus Robert Pattinson, I wait for the punchline. I’m still waiting. (The AV Club)
Honestly, sometimes I think the folks advocating and enforcing censorship have the dirtiest minds. (Jalopnik)
Okay, someone angrily defend and hotly explain the purported sexiness that is Daniel Craig because I just don’t see it. I think he’s a good actor and a very cool Bond, but I’m not certain what Rachel Weisz is all mooney about. (Celebitchy)
Everytime one of you lovely commenters complained about Inception being left off the Pajiba Best Films of 2010, I clicked this button and giggled. Because, sometimes, most of the time, almost always, I’m twelve. (BWWUUUAAAAAAMMMMMM)
This is where I’m supposed to tell you that Meg Ryan and John Mellencamp (I miss that “Cougar” sometimes) are dating and in love and maybe she broke up his marriage and oh my gosh. You know what? I don’t care. Enjoy each other. I’m going to reflect on a time when I enjoyed you too. Here are some clips of when John was still a Cougar and Meg had a face that I could stand to look at.
Let it rock, let it roll.
Joanna Robinson is sucking on chilli dogs outside the Tastee Freez. Send an email to [email protected] if you want to put your hands between her knees.