
I remember when we were younger, our parents got us a pile of little gifts for Christmas and one big thing. Some years, when times were good, it was "big" in the sense of dollar value. Some years dictated a tighter budget and our "big" gift was simply large in size. Others, it was both. But one year, my gift was a giant, 25 gallon Rubbermaid container filled with LEGO. It was the greatest gift in history.
We're back, Palinode and I, to recap the season finale of Breaking Bad, only this time we're joined by the esteemed gentleman who actually needs no introduction. At the table with us exchanging enthusiastic comments about AMC's popular series Breaking Bad starring Emmy-award winning actor Bryan Cranston is DJ Charlie Ann, famed deejay and master mixer of the underground children's house/trance scene and pornographic astrologist to the stars. We're so not worthy!
Join us, as we breathlessly dissect the entire episode down to every single one of its cells. That is to say, get comfy.
The actor is prepared to walk away from a hefty payday because of a dispute with the studio over who should direct -- he'd rather not make the film at all if it means compromising his artistic vision.
This all sounds fantastic until you find out just what movie and directors we're talking about here.
John McClane has terrible luck. First he went to L.A. and Hans Gruber took his Christmas Party hostage, then he is flew out of Washington D.C. and terrorists take Dulles hostage, then he was in New York and Hans Gruber's brother Simons tracked him down and messed with him, then he got mixed up with Homeland Security and had to help them save the United States from internet terrorists.
You would think John McClane would retire.
You would hope John McClane would retire.
My family and I go to the movies a fair amount, usually at least once a month. And I'm one of those people who actually likes the 20 minutes of trailers that play before the movie. I like seeing what's going to be coming out so that I can say, "Ohh, that looks good, we'll have to see that," or mercilessly snark on it, a la Mystery Science Theater 3000.
There are a few disappointed eBay consumers this week after the vehicle they were trying to buy was pulled from auction on Monday. Apparently, if you own one of the vans in which Dr. Jack Kevorkian performed any of his claimed minimum of 130 illegal assisted suicides and try to sell it on eBay, eBay has a policy against the sale of "murderabilia" and will de-list your auction.
Damn. And I so always wanted a death van.
Ah, Lady Gaga: the most shocking semi-androgyne to ever break out of the usual pop star mold while almost never wearing any pants. Oh, wait, that's not right. Wasn't there someone else? There was!
Who has been recording music since 1977? Who hung out with the likes of Brian Eno and played a muse to Andy Warhol? Who delved into the insanity of gonzo fashion when Gaga was not yet even born? Who has a film career that spans four decades? Who frightened me as a child with her segmented head on her 1985 "Slave to the Rhythm" album cover?
Grace Jones.
Lady Gaga seems to have it now, but Grace Jones had it first. The question is, who really has it?