Wednesday, February 5, 2003

BLOGGER MAKES ACCURATE PREDICTION! (FILM AT 11): Last Wednesday, I predicted that the larger audience for early episodes, plus a difference in editing priorities, would bring a change to American Idol 2:
[V]iewers are going to be taking these narratives with them and remembering who these people are before they start singing for their (show business) lives next week. It means that no matter how well Kimberly Caldwell sings next week -- and she is fabulous -- viewers are going to remember how poorly she treated co-auditionist Julia DeMato this week, and they're going to vote on that basis, not the singing merits. Which is fine, I guess, because it's good to have pop stars who are decent people.

And what happened tonight? Despite her mediocre rendition of "Son of a Preacher Man", Julia's in the final ten; Kimberly, who sang the best last night, isn't.

Neh heh.

Now I'm really on vacation. Time to pack. See you on the flipside.
VACATION (ALL I EVER WANTED): This blog is on vacation until next Tuesday, so that Jen and I can enjoy One Last Trip Before The Bun Arrives. Enjoy yourselves until then.
AND NOW, FOR A DISSENTING POINT OF VIEW: Philip Weiss, article of My Favorite Magazine Article Ever ("Inside Bohemian Grove", Spy Magazine, November 1989), explains why we should all feel like crap for enjoying Joe Millionaire:
Evan Marriott doesn’t have to marry the last girl—he merely has to confess to her. Really, there’s nothing for anyone to win on Joe Millionaire but a bag of clay

For a minute or two, that bleak prospect gave Mr. Marriott a little sympathy. He acted as if the show’s premises were nauseating, that he was actually only looking for a woman of rugged spirit to share his humble home. He was trapped, but trying to make the most of a bad situation. In an effort to make its leading man seem soulful, Fox repeatedly aired Mr. Marriott’s statement that the lie was eating him alive.

But as time went on, he threw himself into it, and in the interviews he’s given, Mr. Marriott showed himself to be well past the agonized schtick. Fox was not wholly forthcoming about the terms of the lie when he signed on, he says. (No, the devil is never very good at fine print.) But everyone had a good time, both him and the girls, and the ones who are sore shouldn’t be. There were "absolutely" no negatives to the experiment, he told TV Guide. "Fox is happy, I’m happy, and to tell you the truth, the girls ought to be happy."


Misanthropes say we all can be bought, and right now they have the documentation. You are trapped in life; there are no good choices. Evidently, this is a useful feeling. Believe the worst about human nature, and you will let yourself do anything.

You can read the full article here.
DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME. REALLY: Shuo-Shan Wang will be spending some time in jail for performing a particularly sensitive act of surgery, without medical training, on a Michigan man.

Yes, it appears that Oakland County Circuit Judge Fred Mester is going to cut off Wang's access to patients, in a manner of speaking. If there is any more news on this nutty story, I promise not to leave you hanging.

Tuesday, February 4, 2003

LIKE WALTER SOBCHAK, HE IS, INDEED, AS JEWISH AS....: Eddie Mekka, otherwise known as the Big Ragu on TV's Laverne and Shirley, is Tevye.

Coming this spring to the Bucks County Playhouse in New Hope, PA for an encore performance. Get your tickets now.

[Lebowski script here in PDF. Page 95.]
SETTED SUN: I know based on my tracking stats how many of you come expecting something on the topic, but I've got nothing significant to say, really, about last night's Joe Millionaire. It was embarassing seeing Melissa M. slut herself about so desperately (and poorly), and, clearly, it's the editors who are the heroes of this enterprise, plucking bits and pieces here and there to restructure Evan's final dates into something entertaining.

Oh, and entertaining it is, but it has nothing to do with the conceit of the show. It's not that Evan Marriot's posing as a millionaire that makes the show fun, it's that he's an inarticulate dolt who thinks with his genitals and, thankfully, always manages to say the first thing that comes to him without thinking about it first.

Like The Amazing Race, yes, this show is structured as a competition, but where it shines is as comedy. Dude doesn't know what "gnocchi" is, and stares at breasts and passing bulldozers with equal admiration. One date faults him for not being "extraneously intellectual", while another comments on how beautiful it was when the sun "setted".

Yep. Thank goodness they didn't call the show "Joe Rhodes Scholar".

Monday, February 3, 2003

VACATION LIKE A (FAKE) MILLIONAIRE: Want to stay at the same chateau where Joe Millionaire is being filmed? Visit Château de la Bourdaisière here.

Rates for the rooms range from 110-230 € per night, or $118.53 to $247.82, based on current rates.

The butler costs extra, I'm sure.
HE SHOT ME (IT FELT LIKE A KISS): Give Phil Spector credit: if there's a week for a reclusive famous person to get arrested and charged with first degree murder while achieving a minimum of publicity, it's probably right now.