Have you ever tried to fall on your own sword only to have someone pull it out from under you and start hacking off limbs? And then you're all like, "Hey, give me back my sword. I was going to use that!"
No?
It's a strange phenomenon.

So anyway, The Brown Bunny. Well, I cheated.
I, perhaps out of a prurient curiosity, watched the end of the movie first. The ironic thing is, I think the movie is better if you watch the end first. What's missing from all those scenes of Vincent Gallo driving cross country is (gasp) exposition.

It's an austere, sometimes absurd, but often beautiful film when you have some insight into the protagonist's psyche. The problem is, you get nothing like that until the end. Gallo could have even offered a plausible red herring that would have been sufficiently compelling to carry the audience to the surprising conclusion.

Roger Ebert did a complete 180 on The Brown Bunny after calling it the worst film in the history of the Cannes festival. I suspect, whether he realizes it or not, that his reversal can be attributed as much to knowing the ending already as to the 26 minutes of post festival edits.

So, all you young filmmakers out there take note. Exposition is important. You have to give the audience a reason to care.

Oh, maybe you're wondering about the infamous scene. Well, at one point I thought it could be a stunt dick, but I clearly saw scrotum. So I'm thinking they went for the verisimilitude.

Which reminds me... There are certain people who whenever they appear on screen, I recoil in horrific expectation of the skanktastic performance I'm about to witness:

Chloe Sevigny see: above, Dogville, Gummo. On second thought, don't see Gummo, ever.

Juliette Lewis see: Kalifornia, Natural Born Killers

Courtney Love see: well, anything she's ever been in. Her appearance in "Basquiat" is what inspired the creation of this unofficial list.

Pat Robertson: U.S. should assassinate Venezuela's Chavez

Well, that is the Christian way to deal with political issues.

You can take the Jew out of Gaza,
but you can't take Gaza out of the Jew.





I really don't know what that means.

Whoa. I can't believe Morning Edition is on and I've only just gotten home. So now should I watch The Brown Bunny or should I just go to sleep?

I guess it's a special day if you're the black reporter designate for a local Tv station and it's time to cover the John H. Johnson funeral. It sure beats the hell out of covering the latest "toddler killed in gang crossfire on the South Side" story.

But, I have two questions:

1) How is it possible that Bill Clinton is more comfortable in a room full of negroes than I am?

B) What the hell is that on Carol Moseley Braun's head?

Ha! We closed the place!

"The moon belongs to America and anxiously awaits the arrival of our Astromen."

When and for what reason did I buy a Belle and Sebastian album from iTunes? Was I drunk? Did I somehow catch "teh ghey?"

As Monday night turned into Tuesday morning I was sitting at a blackjack table next to a guy who said he needed to make some money because his tuition was due at 7:00. He ordered a tequila shot, so I ordered one too, paid for both and walked out with a purple chip. So now, as far as I'm concerned, Monday night is officially casino night. That is until I get wiped out at the tables.