Smackdown finished dead last in a recent study of prime-time TV by the National Organization for Women, which noted that the show existed "solely to>"/>
Smackdown finished dead last in a recent study of prime-time TV by the National Organization for Women, which noted that the show existed "solely to encourage and display pain and injury." Well, duh! Why do you think we watch? That said, congrats to new NOW prexy Kim Gandy—you go, girl! Tell that prick Gary Bauer what's what! Though if NOW is offended by Smackdown's "degrading treatment of women," we can only imagine what they must make of Hardball.
What the hell is going on atop Fran Healy's head? We smell the fashion advice of a new wife. Anyway, if you see Travis this summer—lord knows we shan't be attending—you should yell out for "Blue on a Black Weekend" or "Hazy Shades of Gold," a couple of B-side classics from back when they were the new Mott the Hoople. Good times, good times.
Man, we hate that Beastie and Sutton, possibly even more than we hate Adam Yauch or Thom Yorke—and that's saying something. If hate were people, we'd be China. . . . The Cooper Temple Clause's "Panzer Attack" is the most accurately named song we've heard in ages. RAWK! . . . Most pointless Web site ever: www.chrishelme.co.uk.
Can somebody explain to us how the fuck Dick Cheney has a $186,000 electric bill? What's he doing, growing the hydro? . . . Thirty years in the TV biz and Robert Urich is third billed to a pot of jambalaya!? . . . Speaking of rich and spicy Cajun, Britney Spears is doing "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" on her new record, produced by Rodney Jerkins, who clearly doesn't.
Thumbs up to the thirtysomething revival, but would Bravo please do something about Candace Bushnell? Shut up shut up shut up shut up! She's like the really ugly apartment building in our neighborhood that Art Institute students live in. . . . In other cable syndication news, we were never big Crime Story fans, but out of respect for Michael Mann and the great David J. Burke (as great a TV talent as David Chase), we'll simply note that it's airing on A&E. The first episode alone might be the largest collection of character actors in the history of filmed entertainment: William Russ, Steve "Volchek" Ryan, Stephen Lang, Ron Dean, David Caruso, Bill Smitrovich, Ted Levine, Jon Polito, Bill(y) Campbell, and the Diceman. Then you've got Dennis Farina and Anthony Denison as your leads. No wonder nobody watched it.
We've hit a critical impasse here at the CB over the new Prefab Sprout album, The Gunman and Other Stories. Jason—who loves the Prefabs more than life itself—thinks that, while vastly superior to Andromeda Heights, the album doesn't quite live up to the Holy Trinity of Swoon, Steve McQueen, and Jordan: The Comeback. Michael, on the other hand, thinks it's quite the wonderful piece of work, a weirdly romantic homage to Rodgers & Hammerstein and a bygone era of American culture. Perhaps the only thing we're in agreement on about this issue is that one of us is an idiot.
Here's our theory: Karl Rove killed Chandra Levy. Think about it.
Most aptly named rock festival of the summer: The Longest Day, with New Model Army, Spear of Destiny, and the Wonder Stuff. What, no Chris Helme? . . . So Tom & Drew are now officially wed in the eyes of god, the state of California, and the cast of Charlie's Angels. We wonder, though: Does anyone give a rat shit? We sure don't. . . . In the interest of fairness, we have to say that Radiohead were indeed funny on South Park. They're still a bunch of sucks, but we laughed with them instead of at them. Thom should get down on his knees and blow Trey for making him look so good. Though of course, Phil got the best lines.
Just how fucking lazy do you have to be to stand still on the down escalator? Indolent bastards. . . . Alan Grubman looks a lot like Big Pussy. So does his daughter for that matter. . . . This new Billy Martin seems much more levelheaded than the old one. More soulful too. . . . Annette O'Toole is Ma Kent. C'mon! We're old but not that old!
Fuckin' Beastie. What a no-talent ass-clown. He's so friggin' stupid, he thinks his new hot blond girlfriend—"I call him Brian, hee hee"—isn't sucking on his greasy little microphallus simply because he's on the TV. Putz. . . . It appears the Republicans stole the election in Florida. Who'd have thunk it? . . .
And finally, Bob Forrest, who always sucked but definitely had a great band name, continues the tradition with his new outfit, the Bicycle Thief. Erm, Bob—the correct translation is Bicycle Thieves.