ANOTHER REVIEW OF A MOVIE I VAGUELY REMEMBER: I just read Irvine Welsh's Porno, the ten-years-later sequel to Trainspotting, which I never read. I did see the movie, though, and Porno jogged just enough of a recollection for this:

Trainspotting is basically Sex and the City (or Herman's Head), except instead of sex it's drugs, and instead of New York it's Leith, a neighborhood in Edinburgh (pronounced "Edinbaurauagagh"). Carrie, or, if you will, Herman, is played by Ben Kenobi. This was the first time I saw him without the Carl Bernstein 'do he wore in "Shallow Grave." Carrie/Herman has three imaginary pals, each of which represents one facet of her personality. Sick Boy (or Miranda, or Genius), played by Mark McGrath, lets his o'erweening ambition interfere with his human interactions. Spud (or Charlotte, or Angel), played by DJ Qualls, has a romantic optimism and simplistic world view. Monty (or Samantha, or Animal), played by Kitty Carlyle, is less of a character than a repetitive action, that being promiscuous and insatiable violence. The movie follows Carrie through a series of vignettes that pose the question: Can a girl kick smack and settle down without losing herself in the process?

Unlike in SATC, however -- and perhaps thankfully -- the answer is "yes," and to do it she doesn't even need to settle down with a turd like the Dancing Latvian Barbituate. (So, unlike SATC, the moral is not "you are trapped in a Sisyphean hell consisting of unfunny banter with three other unlikeable egomaniacs, edging for 29 minutes toward some kind of character improvement that will be snatched away on the next-ons.") As a caper film, it doesn't really work. As an escape fantasy, it winds up more optimistic than "Thelma & Louise" or "Catch Me If You Can" (depressing! I sentence you to a lifetime working for the government!) but less so than Witch Mountain. As an art project, it was too orange and brown.

By the way, Porno was funny enough. Nice to see that Welsh's publisher -- I forget who -- actually created a pornographic web site for the movie to which the title refers.

IS CHRIS THERE? We'll have more to say about EW's Funniest People Alive list later tonight, but, first, have you ever wondered what would happen if your new cell phone number had been Chris Rock's old cell phone number? Would famous people like Adam Sandler, Jack Nicholson and Ken Burns be ringing you up all the time?

Wonder no more.

BARBRA STREISAND, MOTHER FOCKER: It's finally, almost, official.

WHEN GOOD THINGS ARE SAID ABOUT GOOD PEOPLE: From James Wolcott's article on the political blogosphere in the current Vanity Fair, in which he discusses the recent contretemps between Atrios and Andrew Sullivan regarding the former's pseudonymity:

And I would add, based on my own subjective impressions, the reason Andrew Sullivan attracts so many personal attacks isn't that he's recognizable and his attackers aren't, but that he makes it so easy and fun. He's like a bad tenor begging to be pelted with fresh product.

On the surface, the battle between Andy and Atrios is a minor spat between a drama queen and a shrinking violet, but it has deeper rippes. That Sullivan, a well-known byliner, television pundit, and former Gap model, felt impelled to pick a fight with a lesser-known blogger was a sign of insecurity -- shaky status. It signifies the shift of influence and punch-power in the blogosphere from the right to the left.

It is Atrios, not Andrew Sullivan, who is in ascendance in the blogosphere.

I've met Atrios. Really nice guy, with good reasons for remaining pseudonymous, and I so admire what he's been able to pull off.

Consider, for a moment, that most of the "stars" of the blogosphere have academic credentials or previous print credentials to give themselves online legitimacy. On the flipside, people like Atrios, Howard Bashman and Markos Moulitsas Zúniga have had to create their own credibility from scratch through their words, just by being compelling voices amid a sea of thousands.

This place just might be a meritocracy after all.

A THOUGHT THAT OCCURRED TO ME WHILE FLIPPING PAST HIGH FIDELITY ON THE TV THIS AFTERNOON: For all the abuse and derision heaped upon Gretchen Mol for her post-Vanity Fair non-career, she's still had more success in Hollywood that Iben Hjejle.

Seriously, what was Stephen Frears thinking? Like, okay, translate it from London to Chicago if you must, but Laura had to have an almost impenentrable Danish accent because . . . ?

MAQUILADORAS OF LAW: For months, I've been telling people that the free trade issue wasn't going to resonate for American professional workers until it really started to hit home, and that it was only a matter of time before American law firms started to bypass recent law graduates to send legal research tasks offshore to be completed by younger, cheaper foreign workers, just as in every other industry over the past decade.

That time is now.

REALLY?? With "advanced meat retrieval" so fresh in our collective memory, you'd think they could have done better than "wardrobe malfunction".