Being as much of a fan as I am of Pixar’s work, I didn’t sit down to watch their latest theatrical release with a completely unbiased mindset–but even so I can safely say that it’s a smart film that delivers something for everyone.

WALL-E is partially a robotic love story and partially an Idiocracy-esque look into the future of the human race; its light humor never ceases to stir up laughter, and its candid look at our consumer culture is simultaneously funny and frightening. The startlingly human qualities and emotions of the two mechanical main characters–despite their inability to converse with words–brings a richness to the movie that I have not experienced in a film for a long time. The eloquent body language and expressive verbal inflection of WALL-E and his robotic friends make this movie one worth watching on the big screen. Because of the limited amount of dialogue in the film, WALL-E possesses a subtlety that is rare in American cinema, taking “show, don’t tell,” to a new level. It’s one of the best movies that you’ll get a chance to see this summer.

Though nothing in my mind will outshine his role as Brick Tamland, Steve Carell delivered an entertaining performance as Maxwell Smart, code name Agent 86, in the Warner Brother’s summer flick Get Smart. Based off of the character from the 1960’s television series, Get Smart updates the spy story with a new cast of characters, including Anne Hathaway, Alan Arkin, and The Rock, and modernizes the terrorist menace threatening the world.

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Who wants to be Paris Hilton’s best friend?

Thousands of people, apparently. The infamous heiress is choosing through the Internet several candidates who will compete against one another on her upcoming reality show “Paris Hilton’s My New BFF.” The winner is her new best friend, I guess. There have already been thousands of profiles and videos posted to ParisBFF.com by people who are interested in being on the show.

I could be wrong, but it seems a little arrogant to think that the whole world loves you so much that people are going to claw out the eyes of their opponents over who gets to be your best friend. And I don’t know about you, but I haven’t fought over best friend status since I was…seven.

It’s times like these that I almost become pro-censorship. Because a show like this not only cheapens the very idea of friendship, it allows things like this to surface on the Internet.

I lost hundreds of brain cells watching that clip. They are lost forever.

The memoir: an important genre of nonfiction literature designed to give us lowly readers an insider look into the lives of the influential, the powerful, the motivational, the courageous, and some of the most remarkable people of our time.

Miley Cyrus fits none of these descriptions. Yet, she has already signed a book deal and is slated to write her very own memoir.  My revulsion at such a published work is matched only by my revulsion at the knowledge that every pre-teen consumer will be clamoring for it the very day it is released.

Apparently she can’t wait to tell everyone all about her strong relationship with her family. That’s adorable! But we all know that it’s actually Disney prostituting this rising young star’s career even more than it already has.

Also, it’s simply a premature move on her part. It’s only a matter of time before she falls into the vortex of drugs, car crashes, parties, nude pictures, and rehab. And then she has to write another memoir to talk about her fall from grace and her struggle back to the top! She might as well wait and publish it all at once.

Georgia is trying to pass a law banning the sale of pot-flavored candy to minors, because everyone knows that lollipops are a gateway drug that leads to a life of broken hopes and dashed dreams. And wife beatings, theft, and baby abuse. The candy “promotes drug use,” the proponents of the state senate’s measure say, so regulation is in order. Translation: “It’s kinda, maybe, sort of fun. Kill it.”

I think it’s a bit on the ridiculous side, myself, but I suppose I don’t have impressionable young children to worry about. I don’t have to live in abject fear and terror of every negative worldly influence upon their simple, fragile minds. I don’t struggle with the feeling that I am an absolute failure as a parent because my kids aren’t strong enough to overcome the draw of pot-flavored suckers or the life of heroin-flavored chewing gum and cocaine chocolate bars that is sure to follow.

The one thing I do know: the senator who is pushing the bill most heavily is named Doug Stoner. And that is hysterically funny.

Animal rights activists are endangering us all. First they tried to stop the necessary slaughter of elephants in South Africa, and now they are throwing a fit about the culling of bison in Yellowstone. We cannot have these giant mammals roaming unchecked, breeding at will–they will destroy us. How can these activists in good conscience promote the growth of an enemy animal terrorist army? Evidence of the animal conspiracy is all around us.

Though this bit of hilariousness is by no means a new Internet item, I thought I would share it with other readers, like myself, who discover these phenomenon a little later than everyone else does.

If you can think of it, this man has probably destroyed it. Check out the other videos here.

I can’t say that I am the most connected individual when it comes to the world of entertainment and pop culture, so a small decision like choosing a rental from Family Video involves a good twenty minutes of browsing up and down the new releases aisle. Different FVs have their own quirks, and in this particular location, I stumbled upon an arty-looking release, likely a comedy-drama, starring Maggie Smith. There was only one copy of the movie, “Keeping Mum,” on the shelf, so I had my doubts; but it’s Maggie Smith, so I picked it up anyway.

I was pleasantly surprised. It was a dark comedic drama, exploring the family of a minister that had begun to unravel and disconnect. Maggie Smith, their new housekeeper, comes in to save the day. She has, however, one small flaw: she’s a cold-blooded murderer.

It sounds ridiculous, and it is, but it’s played very well. The cast, which also includes Mr. Bean and Patrick Swayze, brings a high level of realism to the characters, which takes the film to near perfection. It isn’t a poorly realized horror flick, but instead a darkly funny–and all too authentic–tale of a broken family and the lengths that their new housekeeper will go to draw them back together. It’s funny, heartwarming, and disturbing. It makes for a nice contrast.

Upon investigation, I learned that this film was actually released in 2005, so it’s not exactly new news; but I hadn’t heard of it, so I thought I’d pass it along. It’s worth a rent, if you can find it.

I was driving through Illinois a little over a week ago, scanning through the radio stations in my little red car–you know, like you do when you’re staring at a four-hour drive. I heard Shawn Mullins’ “Lullaby” twice on the radio that day.

Shawn Mullins. Loathsome, thinks-his-smoky-voice-is-sexy, pitiful-excuse-for-a-song-writer Shawn Mullins. “Lullaby.” Twice on the radio. I haven’t heard that song in years. No mention of that hideousness or the man who spawned it since I was in middle school.

This can mean only one thing. The Apocalypse is nigh. This is a warning from the Lord God Almighty for those who can recognize it. He is displeased with us. Take heed.

(No offense if you happen to be a Shawn Mullins fan. But the end of the world is the end of the world.)

Apparently you can kill elephants in South Africa again. As it turns out, the population has EXPLODED since the government banned the slaughter of these creatures in 1995, and the overpopulation is out of control. Who could’ve guessed that would happen?

Expectedly, the brains of animal rights activists everywhere shot out of their ears at this news. They are condemning the proclamation from the South African government, even though it has been made clear that elephant culls are to be used only when an elephant outbreak is endangering the surrounding landscape and human inhabitants and there are no other means of solving the issue.

But I fully support the culling of elephants in South Africa, and that is because of the great Animal Conspiracy (see Tim Bedore). Malicious carp are flying into the heads of fishermen everywhere. Beavers are chasing down innocent picnickers in parks across the world. Bears and squirrels are uniting to destroy us. There is a secret war being waged against us by the animal kingdom, and the only thing worse than a giant gray mammal that can crush your frail human body is  a lot of giant gray mammals that can crush your frail human body. They must be brought down.

I wonder what elephant steaks taste like.

I’ve been reading about the latest marketing gimmick to come out of Welch’s, the maker of concord grape juice and children with such obscenely tiny voices that you want to punch them in the face. Welch’s has decided that in order for their print ads to be able to compete with the movement and sound of television ads, they need to be lickable. (Because Americans apparently don’t have the attention span for mere words and static pictures anymore.)

Lickable ads!

Initially, I found the idea novel and unique–though I was to learn that Welch’s is not the first company to try out this idea. I would even venture to say that the concept of a salivarily engaging advertisement was delightful to my brain. I always liked scratch-n’-sniff stickers when I was a kid. This is the same thing. In a way. Sort of. Okay not all, but it’s cool right?

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I can’t tell you how many times I’ve curled up with my favorite copy of the King James, hoping to launch into a cover-to-cover reading of my most holy scripture, only to be stopped at the relentless droning of Leviticus. I wish there was an action-packed, kicking ass and taking names kind of Bible that I could really dig my nails into.

Oh, wait! It’s here!

Introducing the graphic novel version of God’s divine word: The Manga Bible: From Genesis to Revelation. Take the Christian scriptures and give it an adrenaline shot. Maybe a splash of ninja. You know, throw out the boring stuff and beef up the action (including but not limited to Abraham riding the shit out of a horse, narrowly escaping an explosion, so he can save Lot). Instead of awkwardly translated, clunky redundancies that are no longer spoken in the English language, we have this here (according to the NY Daily News):

“Sounds interesting,” the unsuspecting Abel replies. “What is it?”
“Your death, you smug %@#$!”

Maybe we can get Chow Yun-Fat to play Jesus in the movie version.

Though I have yet to see the predecessor of this historical drama (something that I’ve always aspired to do and never got around to, like going to the Indian restaurant in town), Elizabeth #2 ranged from mildly captivating in certain scenes to ¡stunning! in others. The armada scene was lovely to watch; and ANGRY Cate Blanchett is worth the rental fee. (See: “My bitches wear my collars,” below.) It was cast exquisitely, but the pace was a little slow in parts. My need for costumed drama has been satiated for the time.

A brief synopsis of the film, sprinkled with a few thoughts of my own: (more…)

An impromptu purchase of the outlandishly named Whatchamacallit Hershey bar gave me reason to pause as I savored its chocolate-y, peanut-y deliciousness. Just for a moment, but a moment is enough.

Firstly, candy bars are scrumptious. Unless you don’t like chocolate, in which case I doubt your humanity. Perhaps your origins lie in an outer galaxy or alternate universe. So I say again, a candy bar is a tasty treat. Diets and health crazies be damned. Whether it’s made of caramel, nougat, peanuts, those crispy rice things, or just plain ol’ chocolate, it melts your problems away as candy only can. For a few magical minutes, it’s almost as though I don’t possess eight student loans that are worth approximately two small houses.

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A delectably funny, bad-ass cop duo +

Murder and gratuitous violence of a particularly gruesome nature +

A conspiracy that engulfs an entire small British country town +

High speed car chases +

British accents +

Old ladies with guns =

The ultimate parody and statement on the cop-action genre

Go see Hot Fuzz in a theater near you. Immediately.