Comic-Connage

I feel like poopsticks today, so while the boys are at Comic-Con, I'm sitting here crying softly in the hotel room (which is located so conveniently close to the highway you can actually tell how heavy traffic is by sound alone), eating extra crunchy peanut butter out of the jar without the help of utensils and overpaying for internet access to upload some piccys.

Comic-Con is like crowded or something. It's never a small group of people, but the damn thing almost totally sold out this year, so I think that means that there are more nerds and geeks in the world than ever before. It's funny that this is the year that Comic-Con is blowing up huge, since in my opinion the programming isn't as good as it has been in past years. I dunno, maybe I'm just jaded.

Anyhoo, I took some pics of cute toys and stuff.

They were actually advertising the fact that you could get real, live Stargate Atlantis water at some concession stands. It's been forever since we made it back to Atlantis, so it was pretty exciting to get a taste of the sweet, life-giving water of the lost continent.


I think this is like a copy of a gold box from some Bible movie or something.


The cutest little world-eater you'll ever meet.

Batman, from the Super Friends series. I like his little half-smile.

Get a load of these huggable heroes. I really like the idea of superhero toys for little kids. I don't know why.

Blogger is being weird so I'll do more pics in another post.

Almost as Good as Doing "The Bartman"

D'oh! This week, everyone's favorite weirdly-complected ne'er-do-well misfit will be starring in a big summer movie, so I decided to honor the film's Friday opening with a special illustration. But then my Lindsay Lohan caricatures of her as a stripper in I Know Who Killed Me turned out too creepy, so I decided to focus on Homer and The Simpsons Movie instead.

The Hands in the Air gang as The Simpsons.
From left to right: Steve, Jenni, Jason and Chris

I actually "Simpsonized" our caricatures on my own and I hand-drew the above picture with pen and ink and then colored it on my computer, but you can get Simpsonized by using Burger King's nifty photo upload system. I think that's what Ashlee used to get her new nose and chin, but I've never actually been able to get the BK program to work.

Steve vs. The Spider

No, that’s not the title of the latest summer blockbuster currently thundering at the multiplex next door while you’re trying to enjoy your relaxing romantic comedy. If only. No, this is LIFE people, the cruel bitch of existence slapping me in the face with an arachnid invader in my very own home, nay, my very own private bedchamber! Needless to say, I could not let this intrusion, this unprovoked attack, stand.

Jenni noticed it first, skulking in the corner, its hairy appendages tucked neatly beneath its bulbous body. When she led my gaze to the creature, our eyes locked hard, its innumerable, dark orbs radiating malice. Quickly I shoved Jenni aside, getting her out of the line of attack. The little beast sat there, a coiled spring, plotting some form of vicious plan of assault it had trained long for in one of those many human-killing camps you hear about spiders starting all of the time. I couldn’t be sure at the time, but I think it was some sort of spider-terrorist.

As a freedom-loving, red-blooded American, I had no choice but to declare war. A lesser man or perhaps a very brave toddler might have gone for some sort of spray attack, but not I. Actually, I was informed by Jenni, no stranger to insect-disposal herself, that the Neutra-Air we had on-hand was too light for spider-killin’. I thought about spraying the stuff anyway and using a cigarette lighter to incinerate the foul thing, but then I remembered I’m afraid of fire and I can’t use a lighter (they hurt my gamin’ thumbs). I turned away for a few seconds to look for some other weapon which could slay the beast.

That was a few seconds more than the spider needed.


With a blinding speed that would make you blind if you tried to look at it because it was so blinding, the arachnid darted across the ceiling, positioning itself to strike at one of my vital organs, probably the jugular. The creature looked down at me menacingly, licking its little spider-lips (look close, they have them), assured of its kill. I’m sure at that moment it was dreaming of victory, webbing me up and dragging me back to its spider-friends and devouring my succulent flesh as I writhed in futile agony. Oh it must have tasted so sweet to that mean creature, the thought of sinking its fangs into me. Oh how its rotund belly, surely full of the heads of small puppies and the legs of helpless babies, shook with anticipation.

But as it prepared to lunge at me, perched over my very own bed where I lay my head to sleep at night, I struck first. Oh how its bravado quickly vanished, for not many spiders can resist the “paper towel pinch of death.” There is a Bolivian spider so quick, no human hand can contract fast enough to secure it. There is a Scandinavian spider so large that no human hand can pinch it hard enough. Luckily for me, this was no such beast. My hand, paper towel protecting me from its poisoned shell, closed around the wicked thing like the grasp of death itself, sure and swift. I smote my enemy’s ruin upon the wastebasket.

I emerged victorious, realizing that I had gotten lucky, hopefully not for the last time. I offered my fallen enemy a final, grudging salute, knowing that only by testing myself in the fires of his mortal combat could I emerge as tempered steel ready to cleave through challenges yet to come. That night, I drank a cold Coke. It never tasted sweeter.

Mario Spazzmatazz

Nintendo gamers in the U.K. will have to wait a bit longer to play Mario Party 8 after the game was recently pulled from shelves because of its use of an offensive word. Was it a reference to Mario's "plumbing" or something about "Peach" fuzz? No, the word in question was "spastic," which in England is a very un-P.C. term generalizing that the physically challenged are also mentally impaired.

"Whew! That-a was a close-a one!
Nintendo almost-a perpetuated a negative-a stereotype-a. Mamma mia!"

Mario Party is actually the second game to be pulled because of spazz sensitivity. That's just plain retarded. It's lamer than a Special Olympian's gimpy, shriveled-up legs. This mental-deficient decision will severely handicap sales through a massive product recall and seizure (of the non-shaky variety) that'll require thousands of games to be shipped back on to a short bus bound for the video game factory. I think these marketers need a special education on the topic of words, because it all comes down to intent and no harm was actually meant by the use of "spastic." What a bunch of drooling window-lickers.

Maybe someday the overly P.C. overreactors will learn. Until then, like they say in that one show with that one guy, "Life Goes On."

Mmmm... D'oh Nut!

Since I don't have a Camaro that I could use to hang out in parking lots while blasting Dio from the car stereo, I don't usually find myself at 7-11. In any case, while humming "Holy Diver," I decided to visit the Burbank, California location after it became one of the few to be remade into a Kwik-E-Mart to promote The Simpsons Movie.
There's actually an employee working the front door and handling crowd control to make sure that only a handful of customers can be inside at one time, because you don't want too many people running off with those $8 cartons of milk and overpriced Twinkies. Anyway, when I got in, they were already sold out of almost all of the exclusive Simpsons merchandise.



I did manage to get a Squishee (which tasted suspiciously like a Slurpee) and I also made off with one of those pink, sprinkly donuts that Homer loves so much. The Squishee didn't survive the hot, summer ride home, but the donut made it all right, so I had the Hands in the Air gang give it a taste test.

"Pink." "Creamy." "With a hole."
The Simpsons donut comes loaded with sugar and innuendo.

Jenni:
Very pretty bright-ass deep pink color. Nice lookin' purple and blue sprinkles. The donut is glazed and also frosted. It's a bit much. Very sugary, tho the donut itself is moist and tasty. And I never like eating sprinkles because all I taste is the horrible, chemically, bitter flavor of the food coloring with a touch of sugar paste. Ick. So nasty. Pretty, tho. And the effect wouldn't be the same without them. I'd rather look at than eat. I feel that way about a lot of things.


Jason:
It doesn't taste as scary as it looks. You know what flavor pink is? Diabetes. This donut is a big pile of sugar with a hole in it. Maybe all that sugar will make you all yellow and jaundiced like the actual Simpsons. Well, it still tastes good and looks just like the cartoon version.


Steve:
Mmmmm... donut. The frosting is pink, which reminds me of the episode where Homer is committed for wearing a pink shirt to work, (thanks to Bart washing his lucky red cap with the whites). It's sweet like later in that same episode when Bart teams up with a guy who thinks he's Michael Jackson (remember when he was cool? The Simpsons does!) to sing a birthday song to Lisa. The whole breakfast confection is tempting like that episode where Homer was tempted to cheat on Marge with a hot co-worker voiced by Michelle Pfeiffer. Of course he didn't, which went against the strict instructions of a fortune cookie. I'm still awaiting the fallout of that in a future episode. Anyway, as Kwik-E Mart donuts go, not bad.

Robots in Disgust

Like every good patriot, we spent our 4th of July exactly how our forefathers intended -- we saw Transformers. Everyone knows that the true American dream is for a car to turn into a robot, and Michael Bay's blockbuster played out like a flag-waving triumph of the human spirit. Or maybe it was just a bunch of stuff explodin' with a robot pee-pee joke mixed in for good measure. In either case, we saw the movie (or maybe endured is a better word) and have a few thoughts on it...
The Arclight theater in Hollywood had the Autobots on display. In related vehicle prop synergy, the Arclight also had the sailboat from estrogenated weepie Evening on display. That's the movie starring Meryl Streep, Claire Danes and some chick who looks like Laura Dern, Jr. ...Yeah, nobody was interested in looking at the boat.

Jenni's 5 random thoughts on Transformers:

1. The line "No no no no no" is uttered by literally half the cast, and I think Shia says it at least three times. Sometimes another word is added -- "No no no no no run!" -- or what have you, but, yeah. Shit, I guess screenwriting is easy.
   
   
2. The transforming sound effect never seems to actually correspond to any particular bit of transforming. It's sort of just played early in the transformation. Totally took me out of the moment every time.
   
   
3. There's really no logic to the transformative powers of the robots. They can scan other machines and remake themselves (which you would imagine involves some type of matter generation or at least manipulation) but they apparently can only use that power to change their body styles or paint jobs but not, like, heal themselves. Some robots die when ripped apart, others do not. That's silly.
   
   
4. Shia LaBeouf is not appealing. He can't carry a film. And he's not even that good of an actor. I don't care what Steven Spielberg thinks. He's wrong.
   
   
5. I think they inserted the love story between Megan Fox and Shia LaBeouf into the film so that there was at least one thing in the movie more implausible than alien robots that transform into cars and shit.
   
   

Steve's 5 random thoughts on Transformers:

1. What's with the rollerblading Constructicon? I would figure a giant-ass robot can move fast enough just by running, so what's with the skating action? Besides, rollerblades went out a long time ago. He should have formed up a transforming razor scooter.
   
   
2. I appreciated the use of classic Transformer lines from Optimus Prime. Peter Cullen basically saved this movie for me.
   
   
3. Too many humans, not enough robots. The cartoon was basically all about the robots, and rightfully so. There were so many people in this movie and so few of them were necessary to the story, yet we got to spend a lot of screen time with them. As much as I like to watch Anthony Anderson play the same character he's always played in every movie he's ever been in for the umpteenth time, I paid my $10 to watch some transforming robots, thankyouverymuch.
   
   
4. At least Hot Rod wasn't in this one. God, he's a douche.
   
   
5. The ILM folks took Frenzy in a direction I can only describe as Pit Droid-esque. Watch some Phantom Menace, (if you can stomach it, har har), and you'll notice some familiar behavior with the Pit Droids in the podracing sequence. I didn't mind a lot of the humor of the movie, but it really robbed that character of any kind of sense of danger.

Jason's 5 random thoughts on Transformers:

1. The final edit of Tyrese yelling "Bring it!" is totally different from how he says it in the trailers. I'm still waiting for it to be brought.
   
   
2. Robots don't need lips. Robots shouldn't have lips. Optimus Prime now has lips.
   
   
3. Michael Bay managed to make smokin' Megan Fox altogether unattractive by having her make out with Shia LeBeouf at the end of the movie. Her lips are now officially as gross as Optimus Prime's.
   
   
4. The climactic showdown would lead you to believe that downtown L.A. is a bustling city center, when, in reality, the only reason anyone would ever be there is if you happened to be A) serving jury duty, B) attending a convention or C) a homeless crack whore.
   
   
5. They killed Jazz. I thought Kenny G had already done that.

Yippee Ki Yay

Live Free or Die Hard opens in theaters today, so I've put together some scenes from the movie with a little help from the wallpaper-maker feature on the film's website. Now, mind you, I haven't seen the movie yet and I don't exactly know what it's about, but I'm pretty sure the story has something to do with "kicking" and "ass." That said, I suspect my pictures are fairly good representations of what happens in the flick.

"I'm too old for this crap!"


"I'm too old for this crap!"

"I'm too old for this crap!"

"I'm too old for this crap!"

"I'm too old for....
Dude, you are soooo annoying in those Mac ads!"

R.I.P. Vince McMahon, Pt. 2

All it takes is a dose of reality and unfortunate timing to turn planned hype into a regrettable mistake. Earlier, I posted an obit on the WWE's "deceased" Vince McMahon, but his fake death was tragically cut short when he emerged to cancel last night's match because one his wrestlers hanged himself after apparently committing a double homicide.

This looks nothing like the dead wrestler,
but like all of wrestling, I'm faking it

There's nothing worse than making light of death by concocting something like the pretend murder of Mr. McMahon, only to have it soured a few weeks later with a real-life murder-suicide. Awkward! That's sorta like when you tell a horribly off-color joke about the Holocaust only to find out that one of the people in the room is actually a Nazi. Wait. Did I phrase that right? Well, the point is, it's hard to make Nazis laugh.

So, with the actual death of wrestler Chris Benoit, the WWE has removed ALL references to Mr. McMahon's fake death (the link in my previous post doesn't go anywhere anymore, but the WWE did keep the McMahon death story online when former WWE wrestler Sherri Martel died a few days after his "demise"). In place of the McMahon storyline, the WWE has posted an awfully defensive rebuttal disputing claims that Benoit's violent freakout was fueled by 'roid rage.

Anyway, I've mentioned death, suicide, a murdered family, Nazis and drugs, so I think I've hit my quota for insensitive, taboo commentary for the day. Whew! At least that gives me more time to work on my cancer-porn post. Tumorotic!

Spoiler Theatre: Fantastic Four - Rise of the Silver Surfer

With so many blockbusters coming out this summer, it's just hard to know which movie to spend your money on. A brand new Die Hard movie? Reserve my seats! Another Pixar cartoon? Sign me up! A new comedy with Robin Williams and Mandy Moore? Change my pants! A sequel to Daddy Day Care? Kill me now!

As a public service, I'm presenting the first installment of "Spoiler Theatre," in which I'll ruin the plot of an entire movie by re-enacting it with toys in a comic strip. Luckily, I can't "ruin" the plot of Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer since the screenwriters were nice enough to do that beforehand...

Click on each page to see it in its full-blown glory, all big-like.

Goodbye, Bobby E

I don't usually do the dead folks posts, because Jason is really the most morbid person on the crew. But this death--this one hit home.

Bob Evans
Sausage King/restaurateur
May 30, 1918 - June 21, 2007

Jenni and Steve mourning outside the Bob Evans closest to the Cleveland airport. Not pictured: Bob Evans in toy form.

Bob Evans, a man who created the best sausage I ever put in my mouth (sorry, Steve), has died. But let's not dwell on his death. Let's celebrate his life--and that freaking delicious sausage. The man's sausage was a thing of beauty. No man, no woman, no child--possibly no creature living on this earth, even the dirty vegetarians--could resist Bob Evans' plump, juicy, perfectly spiced and fragrant tube of meat. I could eat Bob Evans' sausage all night long, and beg for more.

But it's not just the sausage--oooh, the sausage. Bob Evans' sausage empire included hundreds of excellent Bob Evans restaurants in (apparently) 18 states, including, of course, Ohio, where it all started. I remember hearing once that Bob Evans would only ship sausage (and I guess place restaurants) within a short drive from the Bob Evans Farms epicenter, to ensure a quality product. That's great, but it kept Bob Evans restaurants from being out West, where I've lived for seven or eight years. I suppose it's possible that will change now that Bob himself is gone, but in a way I guess I hope not, because I like that a company put quality and customer experience over profits. You know, if that story is even true and I didn't make it up in a sausage-fueled fever dream. I get a little crazy on the sausage.

I look forward to going to Bob Evans every time I'm home (which I just happen to be at the moment), and, in fact, it's typically our first stop when we land. Sometimes, I even order non-sausage food, though it's rare. I loves me some sausage.

Since this post isn't long enough, I'll share a recentish Bob Evans anecdote.

A while back, a few months before Bob Evans went totally smoke-free, I was grossed out by being seated too close to the smoking section, and so, I picked up a crayon and wrote, with my left hand so it would look real, a message somewhat like this:

Dear Bobby E,

I love your food but my mom says we can't eat here anymore because the smoke in the air might make my cancer come back.

Please, Bobby E, get rid of the smokers so I can eat at your restaurant. I love it because my name is Bobby, too.

Love,
Bobby

Hmm. I remember the original being funnier than that. I know there was cancer, the Bobby E thing, and the cancer kid was named Bobby.

Yeah.

Sausage!

News Flash: Rich Baby Has Fat Feet!

In an exclusive Father's Day interview in the current issue of gossip rag OK! Magazine, new daddy Larry Birkhead vividly describes how baby Dannielynn looks exactly like her late mom, Anna Nicole Smith.

According to OK!, Birkhead says Dannielynn has "chubby little toes exactly like Anna's." He also goes out on a limb to say that the tot has Anna's legs and lips and that she pouts just like her, too. The baby also has two eyes and a little nose and other baby-like baby features that babies are known to have during babyhood.

As featured in OK! Magazine, the publication that's
proud to shout "We're 'Mediocre!'"

So is Larry saying that Dannielynn is exactly like Anna or is he really trying to say that Anna was exactly like a big, fat baby? I guess pointing out Dannielynn's resemblance to Anna Nicole is a bit more tactful than flat-out saying the baby looks like a giant sack of money in a diaper.

More Than Meets the Eye

Now that the Spider-Man and Pirates blitz has subsided a bit, it's time for the Transformers movie frenzy to begin. Somewhere, there's a despondent GoBot out there who's hoping he can stop slumming as a toaster so he can cash in on some Transformers love. Sheesh, they've even inspired their own Mr. Potato Heads like the Spider-Man and Star Wars spuds. Before movie tie-ins existed, it must've been tough back in the olden days when the only outfits available for Mr. Potato head were a sombrero and a felt mustache.

Mr. Potato Head as "Optimash Prime."
He also transforms into hashbrowns and a carb-heavy casserole.

Even without their popularity validated by a tuber likeness, the Transformers are guaranteed a blockbuster summer. And since their movie is directed by Michael Bay, you know it'll be full of stuff blowing up real good with none of that pesky talky-talk stuff getting in the way to revive your brain (if the ads are any indication, the most quoteworthy line from the film is Tyrese yelling "Bring it!").

Michael Bay's upcoming Lincoln Logs movie will totally kick ass, too.

Transformers is a movie based on a cartoon based on a toy, so you'll end up rooting for characters with incredibly ridiculous names like "Sideswipe," "Tailgate," "Wheeljack" and "Shia LeBeouf." Surely you'll feel stupid in the theater yelling "Bring it, Skid Marks" and "Hooray for Lube Job," so here's a list of possible Transformer character names that I'm suggesting for the inevitable sequel...

Bucketseat
Wiper Fluid
Airbags
Speed Bump
Hummer (the promiscuous "service" vehicle)
Exhaust Pipe
Cupholders
Power Locks
Antenna Balls
Calvin Peeing Decal
Honor Student Bumper Sticker
Spare Tire
Junk in the Trunk

Got your own suggestions? Bring it!

Jenni Hates Everything: Fantastic Four Edition

Jason and Steve dragged me to a showing of Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer this weekend. Yeah, it wasn't good. Naturally, it's the number one movie.

I was going to liveblog it from the theater, but apparently there are rules against laptops in the auditoriums. Who knew?

So I'll just sort of cobble together the experience from memory and the limited notes I took when not ogling Chris "Hot-ass Johnny Storm" Evans. But first, a story.

Pre-Show

As per usual, I there were total turds sitting behind us, this time in the form of an obnoxious little girl and her equally obnoxious father. I couldn't turn around to look at them because then I surely would have commited some unspeakable act of violence with the free Red Vines the theater gave us for pardoning their dust.

The theater we saw it in is converting over to an Arclight, which is actually where we usually see movies because they have assigned seating and delish popcorn. So before the movie, an employee will come out and talk to the audience (something that adds little-to-nothing to the experience but I suppose makes the easily impressed feel like it's "an experience") and in this instance they brought the house lights all the way up to do that, and the little twat behind us says "Ugh, WHAT is this now?!" and I'm making a Red Vines garrote to silence her (sweetly) and the employee says "no commericals" becuz they don't show commericals and NOW the little cunt is onboard with the psuedo-Arclight experience and she begins to chant "Yeah! NOOOOO commericals! I hate commericals!" and I pull the Red Vines too hard and my garrote snaps in two. Great, my hands stink of artificial strawberry gunk for nothing.

The employee's greeting and explanation is over and he leaves, and the lights go back down and the trailers and commericals start up. And the little piece of shit has apparently forgotten her hatred of commericals, because she cannot SHUT UP about anything she's seeing, and she's laughing at the commericals and reacting to the trailers and clearly she's in hog heaven--what the hell is she going to do when there actually aren't commericals for her to delight in? Stupid little twatty brat.

Your Feature Presentation

Anyway, the movie. Written for the lowest common denominator (see: the twatette and her twat father who were sitting behind us) with cheap, obvious gags and by-the-book action sequences, this movie wasn't trying very hard--and apparently I am the only one bothered by that.

Some observations from my notes:

The Silver Surfer sort of reaches near his crotchular area and clearly thinks "Where's muh dick?"

Dr. Doom (Uh, Victor Von Doom, I dunno that they ever actually call him Dr. Doom) at one point is surfing thru the air on the Surfer's board (the source of all the SS's power in the movie, LAME) in full-on Doom regalia, hood and metal face and armor and all, and if that sounds stupid, honestly, you have no idea HOW stupid it is until you see it. Just sad.

Luvved Jessica Alba's definitely uninvisible makeup. Very exaggerated, lots of heavy liner.

But there's a Paris Hiltonality to the blue contacts and blonde wig. Sometimes it worked, sometimes, not so much. And her lips were superpoofy. Odd.

They made the Fantasticar a Dodge (hahahoho) and there's a joke about it having a hemi that's not even hemi funny. (Steve says the joke was hemifisted; Jason says it was hemisexual.)

Chris Evans (Johnny Storm) is freaking hot but he's now a bit bulky muscley in the upper body which he didn't need to do, but love what he's done with the lower body. Should have been more camera focus on his ass and legs.

OMG what has happened to Julian McMahon's face? It's puffy and weird. Age is a cold, cold bitch. In the theater I jotted down "Faux physician, really heal thyself."

Apparently the big terrible plan for earth's destruction is the Silver Surver drills bowling ball-styled fingerholds into the ground and Cloudlactus will finger the world to death.

Come ON Galactus, of course the Silver Surfer rebelled--you can't take away a man's dick and expect him to be loyal.

The chick they pair Johnny Storm up with isn't hot enuff for his fine ass but there is one point where Sue and Johnny (Jessica and Chris) are having a moment and it totally looks like we're in for a brother/sister makeout session which I'm all for when the brother and sister are that yummy. Can I be in that family? Rowr.

When the Silver Surfer says "My people called him Galactus" the twat father behind us stage whispered "Galactus" along with him. I believe I should be congratulated for not breaking his nose into his head and up through his brain for that. It was clearly deserved.

Yeah, this was full of spoilers. But I think that's only a big deal if, you know, the movie has a plot and a story and shit.

R.I.P. Mr. Wizard

Educational TV personality Mr. Wizard died Tuesday, sending shockwaves throughout the science community with the revelation that he was actually still alive as of a day ago.

Mr. Wizard
TV host/scientist/wizard
July 10, 1917 - June 12, 2007

Blinding you with science and/or hydrochloric acid

Mr. Wizard hosted various science shows for kids throughout the 1950s and '60s, and more notably, he helmed a popular 1970s series with his second wife, Mrs. Norma Wizard (his first wife, Ms. Dutton-Wizard, did not pursue a career in science).

On his popular TV series, Wizard taught kids valuable science lessons like volcanoes are actually filled with baking soda and that vigorously rubbing a balloon will create static electricity as well as one really, really aroused balloon.

In other death-related news, World Wrestling Entertainment's Chairman Vince McMahon is presumed to have "died" Monday after the limo he boarded at the conclusion of last night's episode of WWE Raw exploded. Conveniently, the cameras were rolling the entire time to capture the incident, which, like all of wrestling, just couldn't possibly be scripted since wrestlers can't read.

Vince McMahon
WWE Chairman
August 24, 1945 - June 11, 2007???

The Rock sheds a tear for Vince McMahon
or, possibly, the box office failure of Walking Tall.

The only way last night's wrestling finale could've been any more shocking would be if the episode had ended with absolutely nothing of consequence happening while a cheesy Journey song played in the background. Hmmm... and speaking of which -- and since deaths come in threes -- you could go for the bucket-kicking hat trick if you count the mass extermination of HBO subscriptions at the hands of pissed-off Sopranos fans. I guess Taxicab Confessions and Real Sex 32 aren't enough to keep people paying for premium cable. It doesn't take a dead science guy to figure that out.

R.I.P. Charlies

Last week was a bad one for guys named Charles. On Friday, 1970s game show icon Charles Nelson Reilly passed away. Famous for being a Match Game fixture, the CNR leaves us with two very important things: a legacy of filling in the blanks with the word "boobs" and an entire closet full of ascots and toupees.

Charles Nelson Reilly
Actor, Match Game celebrity

January 13, 1931 - May 25, 2007

Also last week, Charlie Pace was finally killed off on Lost. For those of you who don't watch Lost, Charlie was better known as "that Hobbit guy" on the show. For those of you didn't see the series finale last Wednesday (SPOILER ALERT#1), Charlie died by drowning before (SPOILER ALERT #2!) the show failed to tie up any of its mysteries because the series got picked up for three more seasons, giving the writers a bit more time to figure out what the hell is supposed to happen on the show.

Charlie Pace
(Dominic Monaghan on Lost)
2004 - 2007

SPOILER ALERT #3: Since deaths are supposed to come in threes, it might be a safe bet to add a famous Charlie to your dead pool list right now. I'm not saying that I have an inside line on this or anything, but if Lucy pulls away that football again at the last second, she could have blood on her hands... and an awful lot of nickels from good-grief counseling a traumatized Peanuts gang with her psychiatric sessions.

Happy 200th Post!

Today, we celebrate our 200th post... in hell... for Sparta!