MEN'S HEALTH UPDATE: The post immediately below reminded me of this post here, which included a link to the Google search results page for "Viagra". At the time, the page returned "results 1-10 of about 5,060,000". Today, the same search returns "results 1-10 of about 19,200,000". That's on pace to quadruple over six months.

At this rate, everything on the net will eventually be a about erectile dysfunction before Medicare goes bankrupt.

"ZOMBASTIC!" That's what I was thinking watching John Stevens sing "King Of The Road". And really, I was just thinking it because I took myself out to see Dawn Of The Dead last night. That was zombastic. Idol was less compelling, so I was flashing back. Um, and typing.

I was typing and Idol was droning on behind me, and I have to say that at least The Zombie King Of The Road pulled his load without the harmonically muddying background vocals that so many other contestants were hiding behind. Or in front of ... vocally, I mean. Whatever. John's not bad.

Actually though, I was going to write about the movie.

*Ahem* Dawn Of The Dead is a pro forma cannibal corpse movie from Hollywood's damn-I-guess-that-genre-is-still-lucrative school of dry-humping the cash cow. It's a reasonably creative but altogether as-expected stream of splatter, screams and gunfire with a few fun moments and nothing special to recommend it unless you particularly enjoy seeing people (zombies, whatever -- they're a projection of your repressed antagonism to your fellow man, so really they're people) shot in the face.

Gods. Apparently it's Country & Western night. Urf.

That fits though, since I've always kind of associated line-dancing with hordes of flesh-hungry undead ... ever since the Thriller video, anyway. Something about a room full of people who crave nothing more than the spontaneous fun and excitement of doing the same thing at the same time.

Yeah, so they shoot a lot of extras in the head and face in the new Day Of The Dead, apparently because it was as effective as Viagra with 3-out-of-5 focus-group subjects in key zombie-watching demographics. (You know who you are.) Side effects -- including desensitization, loss of self-esteem, headache, hyperactivity and nausea -- were generally mild and similar to sugar pill. (If, by "sugar pill", you mean "consuming an entire jamboree-size bag of Reese's Pieces and a gallon of Jolt Cola by yourself".) Overall I think it might actually have been a tougher, funnier movie that got "straightened up" in a good vs. evil, don't-get-too-dark sort of way during post-production. Just speculation.

Randy would make a wicked freakin' zombie, btw. "Brains, dawg! Yeah! You know ... how your brains doing, man?" Heh. Hoo. Sorry.

Honestly, there's no reason to see Dawn Of The Dead unless this sort of thing is your bag, baby. For better or worse, it's mine. Sure, it's an uplifting vote of confidence in humanity, a veritable love note to compassion and dignity compared to The Swan, but it's obviously not for everyone.

ROMENESQUE: It's amazing, looking at the stats, how many people are comng to the website for How Dare You Lie To The Times In Your Wedding Announcement story. People want to know more.

This incident raises a broader question: how much fact-checking should be done on wedding announcements? I mean, it's stuff that's being printed in a newspaper, but it's more fact-esque than the matters discussed rest of the paper. But, still, if a reputable newspaper is going to print something, isn't there an obligation to determine whether it's true?

It's not hard to have an intern call around each week to verify academic degrees and present employment. But beyond that, does the Times need to verify whether a couple really did fall in love with first sight, or whether Christopher Simon really was "shocked and delighted" by the offer of a shared cab ride with his wife-to-be, or even if such an incident actually happened? Can they just rely on lovebirds' recollections, or is there an obligation to dig further?

Thoughts? Comments?

(My previous fishing expedition with the NYT Styles page started here and ended here.)

OTHERWISE, THEY WERE GOING TO WILMINGTON: Stop the presses: The Real World's staying in Philly after all.

LET ME CLEAR MY THROAT: Time for a roundup of recent television thoughts that aren't quite developed enough for full posts, submitted for your approval, disapproval, elaboration or mock:

1. Saddest part of The Sopranos last night? Not the "Don't you love me?" from Tony to Uncle June at the end; it was the scene before that when Uncle June willingly went into a police car without complaint. Now, that's sad.

Also, I'm really glad this morning that our home has no lawn.

2. I think I've figured out what's wrong with Survivor All Stars this season, and it's not all the voluntary departures. It goes back to what I said after the first episode, that what makes the show great is having great narrators, people who can step outside of the action and describe all the strategery and game-playing that's going on.

But who have they eliminated so far? All the great narrators: Hatch, Rob C., Rudy, Sue and Colby. Now, the only people left who are (a) in some semblance of leadership and (b) know how to talk about it are Lex and Rob M, who's leading Tribe Happy in an incredibly effective way. So to the extent that anything's going on strategically, it's not being described to us in a compelling way.

3. I might know what's wrong with Nashville Star: I'm just kinda bored right now, and not wowed by anyone.

4. Idol is unwatchable without TiVo, and words cannot express how unctuous Matt Rogers is.

5. Tomorrow night, it's all up to Shandi, The Whore of Milan. She's got the narrative arc and the high-fashion look, although I'd be happier if Mercedes won. She's a sweetie.

The great thing about Top Model this season is that any one of the final six could have won this thing -- Sara, April and Camille would have been an equally plausible final three to Shantrax, Merecedes and Yoanna (with YoBackFat).

6. With the Belated Comeback Of The Month, check out this brand-new user comment on a fourteen months' old critique of Jimmy Fallon.

Has any cast member ever mugged more shamelessly than Fallon? Had less discipline in not breaking character and giggling during a skit? It's time to clean house at 30 Rock. Kill the pretty boy first.

7. Either Zachariah Selwyn or Maggie Haskins would be fresh, exciting Dream Job winners. Aaron and Mike are too been there, done that.

Whew. Now that that's off my chest . . . .

AND YOU LOOK LIKE A BUCKET OF SHIT: A tale of two NYT Styles Sections.

The good Styles section runs a fawning profile of P. Diddy's manservant without mentioning his one-time role as Official Pissboy to the Star.

The bad Styles section, full of great vengeance and furious anger, runs this Editor's Note on the weddings page today:

A report on Feb. 15 about the wedding of Riva Golan Ritvo and Alan Bruce Slifka included an erroneous account of the bride's education, which she supplied.

Ms. Ritvo, a child therapist, did not graduate from the University of Pennsylvania or receive a master's degree in occupational therapy or a Ph.D. in neuroscience from the University of Southern California. Though she attended Penn for a time, her bachelor's degree, in occupational therapy, is from U.S.C.

The Times should have corroborated the credentials before publishing the report.

Say it with me, gang: D'oh!

And you thought the Jayson Blair thing wouldn't change the Times.

BLOW'D UP: I stepped out the door this morning at 8am and breathed in the South Philadelphia air, and in those first gulps I inhaled the final particles flowing north from Veterans Stadium, the dust of 33 years of losing (and one title). Enjoy the demolition video..