PRYOR RESTRAINT: Richard Pryor, the most deserving first ever winner of the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor, has died at 65. Pryor was unique in that while he could be exceedingly funny when he was raunchy and transgressive, he could even be funny without being dirty--witness the excellent "Brewster's Millions." While Pryor made his own autobiopic, I wonder who will play him in the almost-certain biopic.

ASA, THEY GOT THE SL! The movie is still a few weeks away, but Leon Wieseltier has begun the war over Steven Spielberg's Munich:

The film is powerful, in the hollow way that many of Spielberg's films are powerful. He is a master of vacant intensities, of slick searings. Whatever the theme, he must ravish the viewer. Munich is aesthetically no different from War of the Worlds, and never mind that one treats questions of ethical and historical consequence and the other is stupid. Spielberg knows how to overwhelm. But I am tired of being overwhelmed. Why should I admire somebody for his ability to manipulate me? In other realms of life, this talent is known as demagoguery. There are better reasons to turn to art, better reasons to go to the movies, than to be blown away.

(BugMeNot works.)

IN A QUEST TO GET FAMOUS WE'LL LET HIM PLAY US LIKE ANDY AND AMOS: Remember Eddie Murphy's all-time-classic "Mr. White" SNL sketch? According to the BBC, Ice Cube and RJ Cutler have decided to extend and expand the concept into a two-family reality television show. Imagining how it will all play out has the needle on my cringe-o-meter jumping, big time. Even if Hollywood make-up technology has advanced astoundingly since 1986, I predict a lot of extremely awkward moments in which the participants get the fabled "funny vibe" more for so obviously trying to seem to be what they're not than for being anything they're trying to seem to be. I would have much preferred Cube to spend his time on a reprise of his timeless role as James 'Desolation' Williams.

IF NOTHING ELSE, NO. 6 WILL KEEP ME IN THE THEATER: MSNBC.com contributor Dave White presents The Straight Dude's Guide To Brokeback Mountain. Why?

“But I am a heterosexual man,” you’re thinking, “very, very, very, very straight.” And you’re kind of freaking out as the release date quickly approaches — and even the expression “release date” is making you kind of jittery. You’re hoping to remind your female life partner that, while you feel gay people are very wonderful, colorful, witty additions to the human population and that Ellen sure is fun to watch dance in the credit card commercial and that Tom Hanks really deserved that Academy Award for whatever that movie was where he died at the end, that you are very, very, very, very straight and that it should exempt you from seeing Adorable Jake…um… do “it” with Heath Ledger. You really don’t even want to know what “it” entails because you’ve lived this long without finding out. You’re thinking the words “red-blooded,” as in “I am a red-blooded American male, etc,” don’t sound so retro anymore.

And yet, you’re still going to see it whether you like it or not. This necessarily presents a dilemma: how to make her happy and endure your first gay-themed movie where guys actually make out on a very big screen right in front of your face? And that’s where I come in. . . .

The last note is particularly apt: "And finally, it’s just your turn. Really, it is, and you know it. Imagine how many thousands of hetero love stories gay people sit through in their lives. So you kind of owe us. Now get out there and watch those cowboys make out. "

EVEN MORE ELITE THAN THE FIVE-TIMERS CLUB: The fact that Alec Baldwin will, tomorrow night, tie John Goodman for the coveted second place position on the list of "Persons Who've Hosted SNL the Most," with 12 hosting gigs (Steve Martin remains #1, with hosting appearance 14 slated for the spring) is interesting enough on its own, but the Times article on the subject includes the following cryptic remark--"Michaels is . . . preparing to say goodbye to several mainstays, whom he will identify sometime next year." So, who's going? I think the arrival of Kristin Wiig makes the departures of several female cast members (Poehler and Dratch in particular) exceedingly likely, and it's time for Hammond and Meyers to step aside and let the new talent take over. And can we just fire Horatio Sanz for the hell of it?

FOR 12 HOURS A DAY, 7 DAYS A WEEK, MY COLLEAGUES AND I ARE KILLING MONSTERS: Americans are now outsourcing our videogame playing. Basically, Americans are hiring low-paid Chinese workers to play through the early rounds of the multiplayer fantasy games for them, so that they can start off with already-loaded-with-virtual-gold supercharacters without any effort. Fascinating.

NEXT TIME, USE THE SCARF: The WaPo has a nice recap of this week's Runway premiere, including a tidbit which was, at least, news to me:

Last year's "Project Runway" winner, Jay McCarroll, whose style was an enticing blend of sci-fi, technicolor and street style, declined both [$100,000 to help finance his own business and mentoring support from Banana Republic]. (But he did appear in Elle.) In an e-mail conversation, he didn't detail the precise reasons for turning down the money: "Use your imagination there for I am not allowed to talk about it." But he did not dispute the suggestion that, perhaps, there were too many strings attached to such a windfall. As for the mentorship with Banana Republic, "everything was fine with them, just bad timing. I couldn't think about mass production in China the week I won the show. It was all just way over my head. I was pretty emotional for months. 'What the [bleep] just happened to me?' kind of thoughts," he says.

Tell me this, folks: who will stop Santino (whom I might start referring to as General Zod)?