Jeez Louise, how tedious is that Aimee Mann and her little crew? The only thing more mind-numbingly dull is new New Yorker rock hack Nick Hornby. Sorry Nick, but we've heard Shawn Colvin before, and believe us when we tell you: No full page photo of Aimee is going to make us change our minds. Just call us Bachelors No. 3 and 4. . . . We'd also like to note that Aimee's husband is, at best, the third-most-talented Penn brother, which is scary when you consider what a no-talent the second-most-talented one is. The talented one is pretty scary talented, though. . . . Let's face it, the only decent female artist in the history of Boston Rock was Robin Lane and the Chartbusters. That said, Juliana Hatfield of all people looks really really hot on the cover of her new CD. No wonder Evan Dando fingered her.
Damn you fine!
An undisclosed millionaire has apparently offered Britney Spears $17 million for some sex, which she has declared "totally unacceptable." Just tell us what amount would be acceptable and we'll start saving up. . . . Of course, that would mean Jason would have to stop obsessing about hockey. Michael says: His article last week was like reading a less-gay Kurt B. Reighley!
Here's what we learned yesterday in the supermarket checkout line: Mr. Ed was a zebra, J. Edgar Hoover was black, and big tits cause carpal tunnel syndrome (though it's not clear who gets it—the person with the giant cans or the lucky guy handling them). Also, it appears OJ might be a murderer. . . . In other celebrity news, Betty Friedan alleges that her estranged husband Carl used to beat her. While we do not endorse such behavior, really, can you blame the guy? "Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!" For his part, Carl claims that during the writing of The Feminine Mystique she came at him with a kitchen knife, presumably to cut off what was left of his masculinity.
Time for a "Farewell, funnyman" hat trick, as we bid adieu to three giants: Maurice "Rocket" Richard, John "Shall I wash your dick, sir?" Gielgud, and Tito "Donde esta la casa de Pepe?" Puente. Incredibly, all three men shared the same thought on their respective deathbeds: "I cannot believe Bob Hope is going to fucking outlive me!"
Our favorite bands of the moment include the Garage Monkeys (don't miss their hit single, "She's Online") and the great aRe wE theM, who sound extraordinarily like the new Idlewild record. . . . And screw Slim Shady and his two million sales. The finest white trash songster out there is Mr. Chuck Cleaver, of Ohio's one and only Ass Ponys.
Also making our MP3 players go (Relax, we ripped our own CDs; like Madonna, we are among the No Napster brigade): Julian Cope's Floored Genius 3 (finally, "Conspiracist Blues" is available on record!), Hefner's Boxing Hefner, the Delgados' The Great Eastern, Gerling's Death to the Apple Gerls EP, the Bluetones' fab "Autophilia" single, and, of course, the long-awaited all-Welsh language Super Furry Animals album, Mwng (Great f'n lyrics!!). . . .
We like hot teenage girls as much as the next guy, but how do you figure that the sexiest woman on TV is 48 years old? The hair, the lips, the brains. We would so be Lynne Russell's bitches. . . . Attendance has been reported to be slow at this year's world's fair. Erm, there's a world's fair? . . . And did you know US Customs will not allow you to bring other people's property into the country, even if it's just a Herman Wouk book and some wrestling videos? What's up with that?
A new poll shows that 47 percent of today's teens—from 9th to 12th grades—have smoked pot, up 10 points or so from 1991. You can blame the other 53 percent for 'N Sync and Mandy Moore. . . . Mike Myers has pulled out of his big-screen Sprockets because the script just wasn't ready. His withdrawal is somewhat surprising considering Myers' last film was The Spy Who Shagged Me, the first American movie made without any screenplay whatsoever! Anyway, Jack Black was supposed to play Dieter's brother, so it's really just as well. . . . And hey, if the lines for M:I-2 are too long, why not check out the re-release of Marcel Ophuls' The Sorrow and the Pity? It's the best four-and-a-half-hour documentary ever, even if it is about the so-called French Resistance. Woody says: Don't miss the thrilling first 10 minutes.
Momma, is that another flashlight?
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