At least she never became friends wth Bigfoot

Despite much "pre-season" hype, a promising cast and respected producing team, NBC's Bionic Woman show has never quite gelled. I still keep watching, mostly out of habit, hoping that something will spark. But with the exception of BSG's Katee Sackhoff as crazy first bionic woman Sarah Corvus, the show as been painfully dull and surprisingly -- terribly written and acted (pouty lips can take you only so far). Ratings have dwindled each week, and now it appears that the best thing about the show, the aforementioned Sackhoff character, will not be coming back even after the writers' strike is settled. Check out this posting (and subsequent responses down the page), which is mostly about BSG, but also contains info on Katee's less than flattering comments about her time with Bionic Woman. Sadly, it looks like we'll be deprived of the new series plodding and dour take on such "classic" BW adversaries as Fembots and Bigfoot.

Of course, if the producers had chosen THIS avenue, perhaps the ratings would have been much better.

Bulldog players agree with 9 out of 10 tailgaters

Remember the Heisman debate from last weekend's tailgate? Well, it seems that the UGA team agrees with everyone but the Freebird (who is probably placing his Tebow action figure on a custom made Downtown Athletic Club diorama). UGA QB Matt Stafford earns respect for not only membership in the ABT Club, but also for pointing out one of the underpinnings of Heisman voting for decades: "He's been doing it a long time."

Also from the world of sports: if the NY Jets played in Columbus, Georgia, I'm sure the fans at Gate D would get a lot luckier.

And I missed the naughty catholic schoolgirl phase, too

Wow. The parallels here are just too numerous to list. Except that I didn't have to deal with the black sheep brother, never had to watch "Crossroads," and never got the "red latex on Mars" experience. However, I did get the repair bills, the class and dignity, the education, the parenting skills, the brilliance and the Cheetos stains!

Dawgs vs. Wildcats: The Game Day Experience Vol V

Well, it was a short weekend, folks. Early game on the old Jefferson Pilot schedule (now Lincoln Financial), with kickoff set for 12:30. The trip down to the old stomping grounds was uneventful. No encounters with bag checking dads of former NFL stars. No torture at the hands of TSA authorities because I left my deadly 1 inch blade on my keychain (though I think at that length, I may have passed muster with Dennis Felton -- as long as I didn't have any primo Hippy Lettuce hidden in my briefcase). No pedestrians endangered. No Freaknik throw down. I'm happy to report that I didn't get lost solo after the game, and wander around the campus and the greater Athens area unable to recognize any landmarks that I'd seen some 2,639 times during my time there. (One of the street signs I almost slept under last week was for a road directly behind my frat house. Good Lord, I have no innate sense of direction). So, nope -- no controversey or major drama.

Unless of course, you count Freebird's sloppy, fawning man-love for Gators QB Tim Tebow*. In response to my blog post Thursday night, and subsequent discussions on the viability of other potential Heisman candidates, Freebird declared that you cannot argue with 42 TDs and Tebow's "rippling biceps" and "dreamy good looks,"* and the award should be bestowed upon a sophomore for the first time in history. Though Freebird said it would be "awkward" to reconcile his UGA degree and fandom with his daydreams of a romantic picnic in a sunny meadow with Tebow feeding him slivers of passion fruit*, he still boldly stood by his declarations to the scorn and contempt of the tailgate gathering.

The only real "action" at the tailgate occurred when some dipshit parked his Solara in one of our designated parking spots, and the tow truck was summoned. "Be here in a few minutes" turned into well over an hour. However, since the Scrats and Huffs were running behind schedule (news flash!), it wasn't that much of a detriment to the logistics. We were treated to the painful machinations of the tow truck driver trying to back up to the illegally parked Toyota. To call him a "driver" would be stretching the definition of the word. Seriously, this took over an hour while we all stood around eating chicken biscuits (Thanks, Hank!) and quaffing frosty beers. Freebird used this time to pen a quick sonnet to Tebow, only bringing his head up from his rapturous ode to ask us if we knew a word that rhymed with "bulging."* Even worse was the sound the tow truck made when it was put in reverse. It was a loud, high pitched, beeping whine that could only be more annoying if it was played from a tiny speaker on the end of a knitting needle that was jammed repeatedly into the recesses of the cochlea.

Well, there was the action of the "competitive scrapbooking" going on. Miz Freebird and Ricky Bobby poured over the pages, but we're not sure who was declared a winner. Mr. Freebird, however, is working on a scrapbook of his own. It will include a foreward by Urban Meyer, and lovingly tell the Tebow story in pictures from his christian missionary work in the Philipines, through his home-schooling all the way to the podium at the Downtown Athletic Club. The scrapbook will be gingerly wrapped in denim, cut from the jorts Freebird wears during his nightly masturbatory fantasies about the strapping man-beast of a QB running the "spread" in The Swamp, with Freebird cheering him on from the Gator sidelines sipping a white wine spritzer.*

Attention Scrat: Your pants are still missing. So much for that "dropping off at the tailgate" idea.

As for the game itself, it was a win. We didn't look great, but we didn't shit the bed like we did against UT. It could have easily turned into a listless performance that put the final outcome in question. Sean Bailey, after all his heroics and brilliance the past few weeks, looked particularly out of it, not fighting for the balls that were errantly thrown his way. But 24 and 20 ran like champs and we were left sitting at the tailgate, basking in a win, listening to the Commodores try not to act like, well, The Commodores.

A hearty Applebees dinner followed, washed down with several Brewtuses (is that the plural of Brewtus? I can't be sure about these things) and a drop off at a c-store somewhere between Athens and Lawrenceville to exchange "the package." After Freebird went in to grab a few supplies that resembled dinner at the Britney Spears household, we were off. I'm sure Miz Freebird had an entertaining ride home. And had to thwart the attempts of her husband to cajole her into wearing a blue jersey adorned with #15 for a little sexytime later on that evening.*

Maybe it's a good thing in hindsight that the large flask hit empty sometime in the 3rd Quarter, as I kept wondering why it was so damned hot in the E's car on the way back to their house. I kept cranking up the large knob in the center of the dash wanting more volume, not realizing the sound level didn't increase yet the temperature kept rising. I think I may have actually experienced being in a convection oven before my benefactors took pity on me and pointed out the difference between climate control button and the radio.

So endeth the home schedule for 2007. To all who participated at the tailgate and in the stands (and vicariously on this page), I raise my glass to you and toast you with a hearty Go Dawgs!


*May be exaggerated slightly. Or perhaps even untrue.

Wrightsville, Georgia sighs at result in the desert

Last night, the Other Stoops Brother and his Arizona Wildcats engineered a huge upset over the always retina-scarringly dressed #2 Oregon Ducks. While this continues the season long trend of teams working their way into the top 5 only to suffer stupefying lesses, there is a more insidious storyline at play.

Going into the game, almost every sportswriter and pundit had the Heisman trophy race being led by Oregon's Dennis Dixon and (gulp) Gators sophomore Tim Tebow. Dixon had the advantage of being a senior, putting up flashy numbers in Mike Belotti's spread offense and playing for a team with a shot at the BCS title game. One twisted knee later, Ryan Leaf's brother came in for a relief appearance and the title game shot appears to have gone down the tubes along with Dixon's Heisman hopes.

Yoiks. That leaves media darling Tebow atop the public consciousness in the Heisman race, and unless Darren McFadden runs for 475 yards per game until the season is over (and who has faith in Houston Nutt's coaching?), Tebow might become the first soph to ever take home the hardware. That would be especially galling for Dawgs fans, results of the Cocktail Party ass-whipping not withstanding. If a sophomore was EVER going to win the trophy, it could have happened in 1981, when Herschel Walker had a fantastic season, but finished second (at the time, the highest sophomore finish since Army's Glenn Davis in 1944) to an admittedly outstanding Marcus Allen.

Now the only thing apparently keeping Tebow from placing the Heisman on top of a set of gravity defying cantaloupes would be a late and mind-blowing run of yardage compiled by McFadden or "We lost to App State" Mike Hart.

Sigh.

Dawgs vs. Tigers/Plainsmen/WarDamnEagles: The Game Day Experience Vol IV

Well now, THAT was satisfying wasn't it?

Before I get to the tailgate and game itself, one note about the trip down. I could have hijacked a plane. Fortunately, I'm just a mild mannered traveler, not interested in downing a jet over a centuries old land war, or to prove that my mythical deity can kick the ass of your mythical deity on the schoolyard. Or because I'm offended by the crass and disgusting popular culture that America foists on the rest of the world. (Wait -- I hate reality TV. And I don't think I could stop it by downing a jet. But even if I could -- I don't think I'd crash a plane just to save the planet from another edition of The Real World or Flavor Flav's latest attempt to get laid). Anyway, I have a tiny pocketknife that I use as my keychain. Actually, a "penknife." I tiny swiss army knife keychain that I got at The Masters. It contains a small blade, barely an inch long, that I don't think could cut open a bag of M&Ms. It has a pair of tweezers, a nail file and a toothpick. There are 3 keys on it, unlike Freebird's, whose keychain resembles something The Keymaker from the only slightly disappointing first Matrix sequel would have. Normally, I go through the ritual of taking this Weapon of Mass Destruction off my car keys and leave it in the vehicle before I make my way into the airport terminal. But Friday was a frazzled day from beginning to end, and I was running late for the flight with a thousand things on my mind. I just stuck the keys, with penknife, into the designated key compartment in my briefcase and made my way to the terminal. Checked my big bag (with Antonio Freeman's dad again) and got in the security line. Went through the usual drill, took off the shoes, the belt, unpacked the laptop -- all the usual hassles. However, at the end, the dude in the blue gloves brought my bag over and asked to search it. (Blue gloves? Shades of Firefly, I'm telling you! I thought they were going to melt my brain!) Instantly, it dawned on me. I was about to fly with the penknife. I could taken the crew hostage and threatened to pluck their eyebrows or give them a manicure! I could have poked a hole in a styrofoam coffee cup! So what to do? Fess up about the keychain, have them take it, and lose a valued piece of memorabilia that can only be purchased one place and one place only on the face of the earth? And it's not like I'm making that annual pilgrimage to Augusta, GA for a little golf every year now. Or, I could just continue to play innocent and hope they don't find it. Or if they do, feign surprise and hope they chalk it up as a forgetful accident and don't call Jack Bauer to interrogate me with a table lamp. I kept my mouth shut, the bag went back through the X-Ray machine and hands of blue searched it thoroughly. Well, not so thoroughly, since he didn't find my penknife keychain. Off to the plane, armed with a toothpick!

In hindsight, I'm not sure this makes me feel safer. But I'm happy to have my Masters keychain.

Okay, enough of that silliness. Friday night was a sedate, relaxing cool down. We all actually turned in early. No drama on the drive down, either. No pedestrians were almost mauled under the wheels of a crossover vehicle. No marriages tested by backseat driving. (until, of course, we tried to park in the spot at the tailgate. For some reason, it took two drivers and a guide outside to get us properly aligned within the yellow stripes).

We were the first ones there, and got the PC and AV all set up and all was well. Noted Professional Sports Commentator and Expert Buddha showed up, and offered this insightful analysis of Darren McFadden vs. the Vols D: "He should run through them like soup." Not sure if he, McFadden, was the soup in that analogy. Of if Chavis' boys were the soup. Or even what it's like to run through soup. Is it a big, streaming waterfall of soup? Is it more difficult to run through if it's something like Chunky Soup or Chili? Or easier if it's water, like egg drop soup? We pondered that for a while and had a few more beers.

The tailgaters beside us insisted (again) on recreating Freaknik out of their car stereo. Which was odd, coming from a tall white dude in a big red pick up truck, but annoying nonetheless. Hopefully, their car batter will die soon.

Gordo arrived late, but with a rolling cooler full of steamed hot dogs delicately wrapped in foil. Yes, they were tasty.

Tailgate raconteur DHuff was apparently high on life. I don't know if it was the fact with all the black around him, absorbing the light, he didn't have to slather on SPF-70 with a paint roller and put on his demented beekeeper get up, or if he was sniffing glue behind the dumpster, but the boy was certainly excited without the benefit of draining a huge flask. I need to score me a bag of this "life" stuff.

Here's where things start getting sketchy for me. I don't know if it's because of only having two hot dogs as a "base" for an afternoon of imbibing, or that I had way too many tallboys wandering around chatting with everyone, but my note taking became intermittent and sloppy. I recall accusing Ricky Bobby of wearing blue socks with "Blackout" ensemble, but after careful inspection, it appeared that they were indeed black, and even more importantly, perfectly matched. Later, it turns out that it was Miz Huff who participated in the "Blueout" with regard to hosiery. That's why I have two separate drawers for blue socks and black socks. Always difficult to make that distinction in the haze of the morning.

I recall the Good Doctor calling to tell us that they saw a chick with a big sign that read "Knowshon is on my To Do list." I recall some worry about the local fuzz trying to bust people for open containers again. So A. we took the "back way" to the stadium, and B. I eschewed the normal red 12 oz. Solo cup for a less conspicuous huge, Chic-Fil-A "big gulp" foam cup. It was used, laying on the group beside the car, and I just dumped half a bottle of Crown in it and Voila! A Ball Game Drink. I recall walking to the stadium, and after negotiating with some roadies for Public Enemy on ticket prices, I arrived at the top of the stadium stair in our section just in time to see the team run on to the field, resplendent in the rumored and now confirmed black jerseys to the strains of this all time classic:



Wow.

Sitting there, looking around, I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like that. Usually, most of the stadium is a sea of red, with a little black and white mixed in. Saturday, Sanford looked like a cavernous, living black hole, rippling with electricity. Truly a sight to behold.

I won't go into detail about the nuances of the game, since I don't recall a lot of them. But a few observations:

Now that Richt has given up the responsibilities of calling all the plays, he's had more time to focus on recruiting (we're either the number 1 or 2 school in many early 2008 forecasts) and skillfully working the head coach duties of motivation and management. Between the Cocktail Party celebration and this week's Blackout, I'd say he's doing okay. And even though it was Richt who called the 45 yard Stafford to Bailey TD pass, I'd say Bobo (after a shaky start) is doing okay, too. We haven't put up 40+ in three straight games since 1942. And this wasn't against a coterie of directional schools, either. Yes, Troy was in there, but they were bookended by the Gators and the (previously) stout Tigers/Plainsmen/WarDamnEagle Ds.

You couldn't ask for more in a game. There was the scintillating atmosphere from the Blackout. A first quarter lead. A second quarter fade. An Auburn lead that made it a close contest and typical SEC slugfest in the third quarter. And then a take you out behind the woodshed for a total ass whooping to close the game out. From David Ching's excellent UGA blog, there's this:
After Wes Byrum hit a 33-yard field goal to put Auburn up 20-17 with 6:47 left in the third quarter:

• Georgia's offense totaled 308 yards of offense in the next quarter and a half and scored touchdowns on each of its next four possessions.
• Auburn totaled 39 yards on 19 plays, with three drives ending on interceptions, one with a punt and one with a turnover on downs.

As for the Blackout, there was lots of speculation about who knew what and when. You can check out the AJC for some detail: Inside story of the Blackout

Only the seniors knew, and they kept it quiet. Center Fernando Velasco: "I didn't tell my girlfriend, I didn't tell my mama, I didn't tell nobody. That was the only way it could work."

Just awesome.

Even more unbelievable? Positive press from the normally UGA unfriendly Stewart Mandel over on SI.com.

I haven't watched the recording of the game, but I do remember being outraged on more than one occasion about the quality of the officiating. Perhaps I may have let fly with some vehement questioning of the officiating crew's ancestral heritage, or suggestions that they engage in animal husbandry with relatives of a maternal nature.

The win was so sweet and so savory, I didn't mind my own personal re-enactment of Thursday's episode of The Office, where Michael was dropped in the middle of the woods alone to play "Survivorman." I left the game solo, and made the mistake of walking out the back entrance (note to self: DON'T EVER DO THIS AGAIN. YOU ALWAYS GET LOST). Moments later, I had no fucking clue where I was on a campus I haunted for 5 years and have been back to on and off for the past two decades. I recall being by the Coliseum for a while (paying homage to Dennis Felton's boys?), before finally receiving a call from Miz Freebird wondering where the hell I was. (Humorously and ironically, they got lost as well, but still beat Magellan back to the tailgate). Fortunately, before I could collapse in a puddle of whiskey and hopeless despair, Freebird and Scrat played Dwight Schrute to my Michael and led me back to civilization. I felt like I was also in an episode of Alias or 24, when Miz Scrat was asking over the cell phones "do you have the package?" All's well that ends well, with a post game journey to Applebees for the Fifth Quarter show and celebration of one of the Best Days of Georgia Bulldog Football Ever.

Once again, many thanks to my hosts, chauffeurs, bartenders and rescuers. One more trip back to the Motherland next week, and that's it for 2007.

Go Dawgs!

Friday Morning Entertainment News Roundup

Posting has been light lately, because I've been traveling like a mad man (shades of Don Draper, though sadly without the hot wife, hot mistresses and lunchtime whiskey, but with the marketing strategy and Marlboros).

Now I'm packing for another epic clash Between The Hedges in the Deep South's Oldest Football Rivalry. Should be a good one. As I mentioned in some pregame communications with The Freebird, I'm not sure what Coach Richt will have planned as a motivational tactic this week. The players have called for a "blackout" (which is fine with me, given the abundance of my favorite color in UGA togs) and there's the rumor of the Dawgs breaking out black jerseys. Short of a goal line player celebration after the first score, perhaps CMR will suggest that all the fans in black run out to the 50 yard line after our first score and do a synchronized version of the "Soulja Boy." Would that be more than 30 yards in penalties?

That said, here are a few entertainment nuggets I came across during the last week on the road:

The JJ Abrams Star Trek movie has offered some inspired casting thus far (Sylar as Spock? Shaun of the Dead as Scotty? Magnificent! Eomer as Bones McCoy? Not so sure). But two recent additions get a total A+ in my book. First, it was announced that under the radar total hottie and TNRLM Top 5-er Rachel Nichols had been cast. Rachel was on Tim Minear's quickly killed by FOX crime drama The Inside, and also appeared on the disjointed final season of Alias. Her role is uncertain, but anything is fine with me and almost makes me long for the 60s wardrobe of miniskirts and gogo boots on Starfleet vessels. Then today I read that longtime TNRLM Number One Winona Ryder has also signed on to play Spock's mom. There have been numerous hotties to grace the small screen on various incarnations of Trek, but with the exceptions of a pre-batshit Kirstie Alley as Saavik and Dina Meyer as a Romulan commander, not so much on the big screen. Nice to see this changing.

Nice interview with Jane Espenson, a fantastic writer who has worked on some of my favorite shows, including Firefly, Buffy, Angel, Star Trek: DS9, BSG and the late, lamented Andy Barker PI.

Those BSG "webisodes" (part of the reason for the much deserved writer's strike) have been awesome. How great was the old school toaster? Coming Monday? Lost webisodes.

Finally! A decent Heroes. I'm not sure that Monday's fantastic episode is enough to save the first part of this season from mediocrity, but it certainly held promise. At least the showrunner realizes that things thus far have sucked.

Speaking of the strike, the worst part of this by far will be the proliferation of the plague on mankind known as "reality" TV. The only reality show I've ever added to the Tivo is American Idol. And then, I generally fast forward through all the insipid "personal stories" and Seacrest nonsense, just to see the top 12 perform. With all those hours to fill now that carefully crafted and skillfully acted shows will be without their words, expect the AI juggernaut to fill up virtually every night with the "backstories." Many pundits also criticized AI last year for not delving enough into this. Ye gods. Thank Zeus that by the time Idol rolls around next year, I'll happily be free of the Comcast Ti-Faux DVR and back with my beloved original recipe Tivo in order to zoom through this steaming pile of crap.

Okay, enough for now. Off to pack several black shirts and brush up on my dance moves.

Brady, Brady, wherefore art thou Brady Quinn?

After yesterday's embarrassing and streak-busting loss to Navy, I thought it was timely to post this brilliant, eloquent and razor-sharp take down of Notre Dame coach Charlie Weis, courtesy of Slate.

If you're not a fan of the Golden Domers, it's a must-read. Even better if you respect the tradition and history of the school and their football program, but find Weis's smug arrogance just a bit off-putting. Check it out. Just one of many turns of a phrase that make me giggle:

"The giant edifice of fraud that is Weis' reputation is actually a series of smaller frauds piled on top of each other."

Yoiks.

Of courth, Lou Holth will continue to pick them every thingle week on E-eth-P-N.

That's a Wicked Pissah!

The Red Sox win another World Series. Remember when their fans were long suffering and almost pitiable losers, just like Cubs fans? Well, spending almost as much as the Yankees and hoisting two trophies will change the perception of the fan base quickly, dontcha know. And that's not even factoring in the "other" story from the area -- the juggernaut known as the Patriots. Throw in previously unbeaten Boston College, and the "Big Three" now making it look like Doc Rivers can coach, and you have enough to make an insufferable group of fans even moreso.

To that end, check out this absolutely hilarious post from Kissing Suzy Kolber on the subject.

What if Clarice Starling was younger, hotter and spunkier?

Remember last television season, when there were rumors about producer Rob Thomas making a last ditch attempt to save the remnants of beloved cult favorite Veronica Mars by "flash forwarding" the story of our quippy detective a few years into the future, where she was a newbie with the FBI? He shot an extended length "trailer" showing just what this new show might be like, and thanks to the miracle of the interwebs, it has surfaced. Here you can view just what might have been:

Part 1



Part 2



No, we didn't see Keith, Wallace, Mac, Logan, Dick or Weevil. However, I thought this looked good, and would have gladly added "Veronica Mars, FBI" to my season pass list. Of course, I'd probably tune in to watch "Veronica Mars Stands in Line at the DMV." After all, I'm still watching "Veronica Mars has Gwen Raiden Electro-Powers and Follows Memory Wiped Peter Around a Full of Blarney Sub-Plot While the Rest of a Once Entertaining Show (Except HRG) Sinks Like a Fucking Stone."

Speaking of The CW, I've finally caught up on all the episodes of Reaper. My cumulative grade? B-. Obviously, Ray Wise is the main draw here and should deserve consideration for a Best Supporting Emmy when nominations roll around next year. The premise and set up is amusing, and Wise simply owns every single scene he's in as The Devil. The rest of the cast is solid enough, but with the exceptions of the pilot and last week's Halloween ep, the show's writing has been formulaic and the plots just redundant and recycled. Still, there's potential here and it's a pleasant enough diversion from the rest of the disappointment cluttering the screen these days (see show that has added Kristen Bell above).

Good news and bad news

The good news? According to TV Guide's Mike Ausiello, Joss Whedon and Eliza Dushku are getting back in the TV business. Together! For a geeky one hour show! With Tim Minear involved! More on the show, including interviews with Joss and Eliza, on E!.

The bad news? It's on FOX. The same FOX that killed Drive, Firefly, Tru Calling, Wonderfalls and The Inside - all shows that involved our little trio of Buffyverse favorites. Both Minear and Dushku had a deal with the studio, so it's not like there was much of a chance for it to magically appear someplace else, free from network meddling, bizarre scheduling and a quick guillotine.

But a brilliant show probably cancelled after four episodes (in order to show more American Idol auditions) is better than no show at all, right?

Cocktail Party virtually live blog: Fourth Quarter

Fourth quarter. And it all comes down this.

Gators moving.

Great open field tackle on 2^nd down. 3^rd and 12.

Blitz, but didn’t get to precious Timmy Superman. Still short of the first down.

Gators are going for it. Moore is back on the field! Fumble, bitch, fumble!

Bizarre play call. We stop them. Not give it to Moore, obviously, but did Moore fuck up and bump into Percy? Can anyone have such a bad game? Why didn’t The Greatest Quarterback In The History of College Football not run in a short yardage situation?

I just talked to Freebird between quarters. He sounded like he might be slipping into “drunk, drunk, drunk” range. And there was much booing over the phone when I said something nice about Coach Willie. Yeah, the Jorts have scored 24, but I’m here to praise Willie, not bury him.

HUGE MOTHERFUCKING PASS. STAFFORD TO MIKEY. 53 YARDS FOR THE TD! Unlike Superman’s wobblers, that was a thing of beauty. And Mikey could have gone down with the catch, but he stayed on his feet and took it to the house.

Party at the Freebirds, watching DirecTV, which has a notorious few second delay. The phone rings there just as Mikey enters the end zone.

Despite the drunken jubilation, there is STILL a LOT of ball to play. 11 point lead, with 11 minutes left.

What the fuck? How much time could Tebow have? Dump pass, huge gain.

Jorts to the 1 and a half. Before we can catch a breath, these cockgobblers have come right back.

Tebow tries to run, tackled for a loss.

3^rd and 2.

I’m doing my bit for juju – alternating between copious amounts of whiskey in the “Lindsay” and “Appleby” Munson stadium cups.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Tebow. TD for the Jorts. Okay, I’m going back to the Lindsay Scott cup.

They go for 2. Miss it! Dawgs by 5, 35-30. This cup appears to be working now.

Allen to the 32 on the kickoff return.

Danielson tells the “scorpion across the lake” story. It was much better on Star Trek Voyager. Mainly, because it didn’t involve Tebow. And featured Jeri Ryan in a skin tight costume.

3^rd and long for the Dawgs. We need this. Huge conversion to Bailey.

24 runs like a motherfucker for a first down. 160 yards rushing.

7:44 to go. Tick, bitch, tick.

7 to Figgins. First down.

Johnson with a nice run. I’m sorry, who was that? 2^nd and 3.

Moreno close to the first down. 3^rd and 1.

First and goal at the 5! What a run. Screw Babs and Judy Garland – THIS is “A Star Is Born.”

4:15. 2^nd and goal. Tick, tick.

Moreno! Touchdown Dawgs! 41-30.

Freebird calls to invoke the “best UGA back since Herschel” proclamation. I can’t argue. Hearst? Hampton? Worley? Who could it be?

Commercial break, with Knowshon dancing. Damn, this could be sweet.

3:30 left. First down, Jorts on the 24. 2 TOs left. Down by 12.

Complete to 11 again. Is he always fucking open? 2:44, on the 12.

Tebow almost sacked for the 7^th time. 2^nd down.

Fumble!!!! Dawgs recover!!!! This bitch is done! Pope Urban doesn’t have a visor to throw, so he tosses a headset! And Tebow takes a bonus hit! HOW MOTHERFUCKING SWEET IS THIS?

Tebow can reportedly raise the dead, but he can’t save this game. Suck on this, Timmy!

First down DAWGS! Kneel downs, and watch the celebration.

This was a total team effort. Stafford was awesome. Knowshon established himself as THE MAN (188 and 3 TDs). Bailey, Massaquoi – everyone came up big. Except for the coverage on 11, the D was solid. Richt and Bobo made all the right calls.

Book it – DAWGS OVER GATORS 42-30. Fuck you Tebow, Fuck you Urban, Fuck you Percy. Fuck you Spurrier, Fuck you Wuerffel, Fuck you Kearse. Fuck you Leak. Fuck you Billy Donovan (just for the hell of it), Fuck you everyone that’s ever worn blue and orange. Free at last, free at last.

MAN, IS THERE GONNA BE SOME PROPERTY DESTROYED TONIGHT.

Cocktail Party virtually live blog: Third Quarter

Halftime “stories of character.” About a UGA gymnast. As told by Deborah Norville. I know Jane Pauley fans hate her, but she came from the best damned journalism school in the south. And she’s hot. (Sadly, during my time at the Grady school, I don’t remember that many hotties in the J-School. There were a few of course, who made their way to the hot tub on Spalding Circle, but not many around the building as I recall. Of course, I was rarely in class or on campus, despite the A average in the major. Guess I couldn’t play for Dennis Felton).

Start of the third quarter.

Moreno is a beast.

Danielson uses a fight analogy for the pre-game preparation. He suggests that UGA couldn’t have been a counter-puncher and win. That Richt told his team that the Jorts could “smell fear” and that we should play to win. Not bad. We’ve played like winners thus far, but there’s a lot of time on the clock. I can almost hear Munson slowly counting the goddamned seconds in my head.

HUGE run by 24. 42 yards, against an 8 man front. My god, a (redshirt) freshman!

3^rd and goal after two runs by Southerland.

Play fake TD pass to Southerland! They were totally selling out on Moreno. And motion drew away the safety on the passing side. Beautiful call, beautiful execution. 28-17 Dawgs.

There are lots of Allstate commercials. Who does the voice overs for those? Dennis Haysbert. On what show did he play The Most Badass President Ever? 24. Who is number 24? That’s right, Knowshon. Coincidence? Karma? Of course, David Palmer got killed. I’m just sayin’….

Another direct snap to Harvin. Is poor little Timmy’s shoulder hurting? I hope it falls off, like the Black Knight in Monty Python’s Holy Grail. (little known fact: Tebow wrote the first draft of the script for that movie).

Percy also took a huge blow to the right arm/shoulder. I’d love for the Jorts two stars to only have two good arms between them.

3^rd and 6. Didn’t make it.

4^th and 1. Will Tebow run? Fuck. He made it.

No outside coverage on Percy’s run. Another Jorts first down.

Need a stop or a turnover. Of course, 11 is wide-ass open again. Same fucking play to the right side. This has been the only downside to Willie’s playcalling today. Who the hell will cover 11?

Tebow to the 2. And he didn’t even take a good shot.

TD Jorts. Tebow. Can’t he take a shot to the head that would make him believe in mythological entities? Oh wait….

28-24. Two heavyweights, standing in the center of the ring, trading punches. We absolutely must score on this next drive. If we go 3 and out and they get the ball back and score, the 2 and 15 mentality will creep in and all this good work will be for naught.

75 years of SEC history. What do they show? The most “famous call in SEC history.” Run, Lindsay! Verne Lundquist always gives his props to Larry. Good for you, Verne.

Great throw from 7 to Bailey again. Shit. A flag. What’s happening? Against us? That’s huge. We lost a 46 yard gain. Questionable call.

Now Moreno stuffed for a loss. Karma is putting us on the rape stand at Casa Vick.

3^rd and 9. Inside pass to Bailey. Loss. Fuck, fuck, fuck. First punt of the game for UGA.

Block in the back, bitches! A flag.

Score update: UConn beating USF. Quacks beating the condoms. Ashley Judd U goes down to the Mudfoots. Husker (not Bill Adama) winning. Wha- huh?

Big sack on Tebow. 5 today. Equals the number Timmy has been sacked all year. Still no compound fracture, dammit.

Dropped pass. Whew. Flag. On them. Declined. 3^rd and 18.

Completed, and missed tackle. First down. Buttfuck.

Tebow sacked again. Can’t we put him in traction? It would be worth 15 yards. Where’s Albert Haynesworth or Marcus Vick when you need them? Wouldn’t it be awesome to see some silver britches standing over Tebow like Chuck Bednarik? And Tebow could even go on to marry Kathie Lee. That would be a good fit.

(Note: my typing is getting much worse. I’m not Doctor Johnny Fever at the keyboard).

Dropped pass.

3^rd and 18 AGAIN. Can we stop this shit? Does Tebow rhyme with “overthrow?” 7 was wide open. How can that be when we rush only 3?

Punt. Flag. Penalty added to end of run.

First down Dawgs.

Fucking awesome run by Knowshon. Bada Bing! First down.

Trickeration. The reverse would have actually been wide open. Shit. 2^nd and 20. Stafford hides the ball on his hip well, but this hasn’t worked all year.

Too long for 4. Incomplete.

Nothing. Everyone is scoreboard watching.

End of the quarter. Dawgs still up 28-24. Thank god I can walk 10 feet to piss, and not be exposed to Two-Bits’ massive schlong. (Not that we were looking. Gravity draws the eyes, I’m tellin’ ya. Long story).

Back soon….

Cocktail Party virtually live blog: Second Quarter

Second Quarter.

Awful decision by Stafford. Okay, he’s thrown two passes. And there have been two TDs. The bad news is that one of those was by the Gators. Off the back foot (again), and even his arm couldn’t get the ball to the lone receiver in the pattern while falling back and getting hit. And just like that, Old Lady Luck (tm Munson) gives you the clap in a Motel 6 outside of Jacksonville.

Back to Knowshon.

Beautiful pass from 7 to 24. first down.

Every Stafford pass has been caught by someone.

3^rd and long.

Stafford takes off on a run. Nope.

56 yard attempt by Coutu.

Just a horrible attempt. What the hell was that? That reminded me of three drunks trying to kick field goals at Disney’s Wide World of Sports a few years ago after a night on Pleasure Island. (I assume Coutu didn’t almost get run over by a cab). Richt was trying to call a timeout, but no one heard him. The “mo” is just slipping away.

How fucking open was 11? There was not a white shirt around him! Tebow throws a wobbly, ugly ball, but he’s 5 for 5.

Can’t they let Moore handle the ball again?

They split Tebow out again, but Pope Urban calls a TO.

Another commercial break. I can’t decide if “Fred Claus” is going to be funny as hell or a complete train wreck.

Rusher right in the face of Tebow. Incomplete.

Shovel pass. Nothing.

3^rd and 9. Tebow sacked again! What has gotten to us? Certainly can’t argue with Willie’s attack thus far.

Field goal. No celebration or flags. Unusual. All things considered, not too bad. 17-14 Jorts.

Sonic commercial. Steak, bacon, egg and cheese burrito. Am I drunk, or does that sound really fucking good?

Commercial for the Geico halftime report. I hear Tebow invented gekkos. And cavemen.

Aflac trivia question. Single wing QB won the Heisman? Would Sinkwich count? Surely it couldn’t be Spurrier. It always has something to do with the teams playing.

Direct snap to 24, with 7 out wide. Of course, Tebow invented that, too.

Knowshon first down. So glad we have a few more years of him.

Stafford throws one away. That was actually a good overthrow.

Huge fucking pass from 7 to Bailey. Another rope, right on the money. And more importantly, caught.

Stafford runs for the first down. Of course, he’s just emulating the originator of the QB draw, Tim Tebow, but that was effective.

Flag. What the hell? Gators jumping over the line? No line infraction, but personal foul. We’ll take that. Of course, the Gator WAS in the neutral zone, just like a Romulan.

Another flag. Against us. False start.

1^st and goal from the 9. QB draw. Nothing.

Nice cutback from 24, making something out of nothing! TD UGA! Dude is special. We’ve answered the bell. I can’t believe I’m watching a Cocktail Party. Why are they reviewing this? TD of course. 21-17 good guys.

Aflac answer? Sinkwich. Damn, I’m good. 1942 Heisman winner.

Sweet tackle for loss. Freebird just said Willie would get the boys in a prevent and give up a TD before halftime. Holy thrown visor, Batman, we sure are conditioned for failure aren’t we? 15 of 17 will leave bruises on you like a trailer park stripper.

3 seconds left and we have the ball. Bomb or kneel down? I’m thinking kneel down, take the lead into the half. Yep.

21-17 at half. Richt “fesses up” to dimwit Tracy Wolfson. “I told ‘em if they didn’t get a celebration penalty after the first score, I was gonna be mad at ‘em.”

Good lord. Could we really be winning this thing?

Halftime.

Hey, it’s Toby Keith for Ford Truck Month! I heard Tebow invented the Model-T (why do you think it was named that, after all) and country music.

Cocktail Party virtually live blog: First Quarter

Welcome to the quasi-live blog of the annual Georgia-Florida game. I’ll be writing these comments in real time, and posting them at the end of each quarter. Or, until the game gets out of hand, and I sink into a suicidal depression. So about a quarter and a half, I’d guess. Intro out of the way, here we go…

Holy Christ on a cracker. It starts already. CBS opens the show with a video handjob of Tebow, set to various “Superman” songs. Would it be too much to ask for Lex Luthor to show up in silver britches today, and stick a kryptonite shiv in his kidney? And to have him slowly and painfully bleed out in the bowels of Alltell stadium? Maybe? Please?

Danielson says we need 28 points to stand a chance. Can we score 28 points against a team whose coach doesn’t have a press conference meltdown and berate a female reporter?

Florida always wears white shoes. Dumbeldore would love that. Isaiah Washington would hate it.

Sack! Jesus wept.

2^nd play of the game, and Superman calls timeout to go consult with the smartest coach in the world not named Charlie Weis.

A commercial for the IPhone. I heard Tebow invented that.

Fucking first down. And BTW, what the hell is going on in Kentucky? Is this the Rich Brooks equilibrium?

Florida chewing up yards.

FUMBLE! UGA recovers! Battle makes a savage hit on Moore. One of the few turnovers we’ve forced this year (7 actually). Allen with a nice run back.

Dawgs take over on O.

Nice run by Knowshon.

Second effort by Southerland for a first down.

Sweet spin move by 24. Knowshon is the best 24 not featuring Jack Bauer.

HUGE hole and run by Knowshon. Hell, he may be better than Jack Bauer. Better than Season 6 Bauer for sure.

3^rd and goal. From the 1 and a half.

24 flies in the air for a touchdown.

A “planned” full team celebration! Gotta love that Mark Richt! How fucking cool is that? Richt is grinning like the Joker on the sideline. Certainly worth the penalty to send a message. Holy shit? 30 yard penalty on the kickoff? It’s called “unsportsmanlike” by the refs, but that’s just not Richt’s style. Psychological warfare more like it.

Promo with Tim Worley talking about two ass-whippings of the Gators. Ahhhh, the good old days.

Kicking off from the 7.

Foul on the Gators! That helps. Net net, Jorts have it on the 34. Not bad.

Percy Harvin is good, dammit. But he’s still named Percy.

Fuck me sideways. Tebow to Murphy. TD. Jones was there, but he didn’t move on the ball at the last minute. Shit.

HUGE TD pass from 7 to 1. 84 yards. What a frozen rope. Beautiful catch. And imagine that, another celebration/unsportsmanlike penalty. 1 gave the Jorts fans a “gator chomp.” Suck that, Percy Harvin. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of these penalties throughout the game.

Ruby Tuesday’s commercial. I heard Tebow invented the salad bar.

CSI: Miami commercial. I heard Tebow told David Caruso everything he knows about the dramatic removal of sunglasses.

Kickoff and face mask. Shit. More laundry today than a freshman’s first trip home.

How many tackles can we miss on Percy Harvin? He’s getting fondled more than a Columbus stripper!

Blown direct snap to Moore! Still can’t sort out the recovery. Fuck. Gators ball. Why can’t they give the ball to “Keister” on every play?

Tebow sacked! 3^rd and 26.

Sacked AGAIN! Can’t complain about the D AT ALL. Say what you will about Coach Willie (and we’ve all said plenty), but that TD wasn’t his fault. The guy was in position. And the front 4 and blitzes have been dialed up perfectly.

End of the first quarter. 14-7 Dawgs. Whoda thunk it? Still, lotta game left to play.

Can you have a "Cocktail Party" inside?

Today is another installment in the annual bloodletting, er, Georgia - Florida game. Also known as "The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party." Yes, we will always call it that Michael Adams. Fuck you.

I won't say much about the game itself, other than I'm pessimistic as usual. I fondly recall the days when this "rivalry" was turned completely the other way, with Vince's Junkyard Dawgs frequently making fashionable accessories like shoes, belts and handbags out of ass-whipped gator hide. Sadly, for almost two decades, those tides have turned, and UGA is now the loser of 15 of 17 Cocktail Party gatherings. Cocktail Party? Now more like lame casserole pot luck dinner with neighbors you barely know but still hate because their kids trample your flowerbeds and leave bicycles in your yard. Yes, I'll have a glimmer of hope that we might pull off some improbable upset. Yes, I'll do my part (at home) to put the "cocktail" back in the "party." Yes, I've found a college football player I loathe even more than Danny Wuerffel or Kerwin Bell (that would be deluded holy-rolling, fullback wannabe Tim Tebow. If he is the first sophomore Heisman recipient, and not the historically more deserving Herschel Walker, I may kill myself). Yes, I'll hope we can "Rock the Boat" because "we've got the Kno-Shown." But do I think we can actually win this thing? If I put on my Spock ears and examine this contest completely logically, I begin to look at Jacksonville like a "Dawg" at Bad Newz Kennels looks at a rape stand. How's that for optimism?

Speaking of Jacksonville, there's been a lot of hubub the past few years about moving the game out of J-ville. I certainly understand both sides of the issue. First and foremost, UGAers are desperate to break the streak of futility, and think that a change of venue would bring some good juju. Yep, to do that may indeed bring about some Earl Hickey infusion of Karma, but doesn't that seem a bit like giving up, turning our canine tails and running? A more legitimate reason for the moving the game (permanently or occasionally) to the Georgia Dome has to do with recruiting. The game is played annually on Florida soil and does give a distinct advantage to the Jorts with regard to high school prospects. Why shouldn't we try to even that part of the ledger? And which state gets the economic and tourism boost from the annual match up of the two flagship universities? That would be the one with its denizens disgracefully clad in orange.

Of course, there is the very fiber of college football to consider -- tradition. Except for a stadium renovation project that resulted in a brief home and home series, the game has always been played in J-ville. And fans have their traditions, from staying around island destinations like St. Simons and Amelia to partying like Tommy Lee and Keith Richards at The Landing.

Moving the game to the antiseptic and poorly located Georgia Dome might even a few things up, but would it really be the same? For example, what would this...

"Florida in a stand-up five, they may or may not blitz, Belue third down on the 8, in trouble, he got a block behind him going to throw on the run, complete on the 25 to the 30, Lindsay Scott 35, 40, Lindsay Scott 45, 50, 45, 40. ... Run Lindsay, 25, 20, 15, 10, Lindsay Scott! Lindsay Scott! Lindsay Scott! ... Well, I can't believe it. 92 yards and Lindsay really got in a foot race I broke my chair. I came right through a chair. A metal steel chair with about a 5 inch cushion, I broke it. The booth came apart. The stadium... well the stadium fell down, now they do have to renovate this place... they'll have to rebuild it now. This is incredible. You know this game has always been called the World's Greatest Cocktail Party, do you know what's gonna happen here tonight, and up at St. Simmons and Jekyll Island, and all those places where all those dawg people have got those condominiums for 4 days. Man is there going to be some property destroyed tonight! 26-21, Dawgs on top. We were gone. I'd gave up, you did too. We were out of it and gone. Miracle!"

...sound like if it was played in the Dome?

"Florida in a stand-up five, they may or may not blitz, Stafford third down on the 8, in trouble, he got a block behind him going to throw on the run, complete on the 25 to the 30, Mikey Henderson 35, 40, Mikey Henderson 45, 50, 45, 40. ... Run Mikey, 25, 20, 15, 10, Mikey Henderson! Mikey Henderson! Mikey Henderson! ... Well, I can't believe it. 92 yards and Mikey really got in a foot race I almost broke my chair. I almost came right through a chair. But it was one of those new office chairs from Dome sponsor Staples with about a 5 inch cushion, so I didn't break it. The booth could have come apart, but Arthur Blank really knows his building products, so it hung in there. The Dome?... well the Dome just stayed put. Didn't move an inch. That 1998 Falcons NFC West banner hanging way up on the ceiling waved a bit, but pretty much this entire teal and peach indoor monstrosity didn't budge. But it so lacks in personality I really wish they'd renovate this place... or have to rebuild it now. This is incredible. You know this game has always been called the World's Greatest Cocktail Party, until of course Michael Adams tried to fuck that up. Yeah, changing the nickname of a ballgame is really doing to discourage underage drinking. That's the whole reason college students knock back a few beers. I think I heard some of the students now calling it the Greater Atlanta Area's Second Biggest Party After Freaknik But The One You Likely Won't Get Mugged or Raped At. Do you know what's gonna happen here tonight, and up in Roswell and Alpharetta, and all those places where all those Dawg people have paid for overpriced Marriott Courtyards for four days? And in those chain-link paved parking lots where the tailgaters keep getting hit up by the bums and homeless for spare change and Colt 45s? Man is there going to be some property destroyed tonight! 26-21, Dawgs on top. We were gone. I'd gave up, you did too. We were out of it and gone. Miracle!

Wouldn't be quite the same, would it?

Saturday Morning Entertainment Roundup

Anyone catch 30 Rock on Thursday? Behold Alec Baldwin's Jack Donaghy employing creative techniques to keep Tracy Jordan from dogfighting. Two thoughts come to mind: 1. I would have never quit therapy if it was this much fun and this effective. 2. Arthur Blank should have called in Jack Donaghy last year. And speaking of the ASPCA's favorite number 7, where was this judge when you needed him? (I don't understand the guilty party in this situation. What did the dog do? Even though I'm more of a cat person, wouldn't it have made much more sense to toss the girlfriend off the balcony? I mean, just logically?)

What the hell is it with the cast of Lost and DUIs? Does this mean Michael will return and shoot him?

As promised, Mad Men did deliver a sensational finale. I still don't know quite what to make about the "shocker" with Peggy. Is it even possible not to know? In an hour (almost a full hour, too, with no commercials) of solid writing and acting, there were many, many highlights, including this one: Don's pitch to the Kodak folks about "The Wheel."

We've all heard Johnny Cash's "A Boy Named Sue." How about "A Man Called Jayne?"

Fun video snippet of Tricia Helfer's favorite fight scenes. Two observations (other than the obligatory "that kicks ass"): That last little tidbit? "The fight ends in hot sex, but not with Baltar?" Hmmmmm. And is LeeLee Sobieski a replicant created from Helen Hunt's DNA?

Check out Skiffy for a new BSG short. This one? AWESOME. Fighting skydiving. With a "classic" toaster. Did I mention AWESOME?

A tribute to the anniversary of Wrath of Khan, with Sylar/"new" Spock introducing the original cast. And in case you can't get enough "Khaaaan!" here's a handy website for you.

I'm terrible with geography, but is Williamsburg Greenpoint anywhere near Columbus, Georgia? Of course, this novel, The Delivery Man, could have been set there a couple of decades ago, too.

I'm still on the fence with Bionic Woman. Miguel Ferrer is underused and the show only really comes alive when Katee Sackhoff/Sarah Corvus is on screen. Plus, Isaiah Washington would hate Dumbledore. However, this week's episode showed a bit of wit, and how much better and emotive was Michelle Ryan when she was using her natural Brit accent? Too bad Jamie Sommers isn't revealed to be originally from across the pond.

What happens when Darth Vader falls in love.

TV Squad has a countdown of the scariest TV characters. A few highlights:

• The evil troll doll. Yes, the special effects are horribly outdated now. But I remember watching this as a kid and not sleeping for days, wondering where this little monster was going to be.
• The Peacock Family. Holy shit. Who wasn't freaked the fuck out the first time they saw this episode? Hell, they could be from Columbus, too.
• Eugene Tooms. More fun from The X-Files. Another classic sitting on the edge of your seat creepfest for Mulder and Scully.
• The Gentlemen. A perfect episode of Buffy, with everything that made it great. Stellar writing and acting, horror, innovative plotting, humor and character.
• Weeping Angels. A great example of how to do a lot with a little, from Doctor Who.

In contrast, a pet friendly environment!

Michael Vick's Atlanta home is for sale.

What a coincidence. So is mine! Mine has one less bedroom, the same number of fireplaces, and I'll let it go for several million dollars less.

Other differences:

• Mine is pet friendly, and does not include any "rape stands."
• I don't have a Matt Schaub dartboard in the game room.
• No doormats inscribed with "Ookey."
• My detached garage isn't painted flat black.
• No warrants ever served at my place (if only because bill-avoiding trollops are good at staying "off the grid.")
• "Mexico" was a vacation destination from my house, not an alias for the inhabitants of the house.
• Taxes are way, way less at my place.
• Marcus Vick never waved a gun at the neighborhood McDonalds.
• I don't have an Aquafina bottle safe for valuables.

Saturday Morning Entertainment Potpourri!

Rescue Me's Dammit Janet! will be appearing on Lost next year.

The talented and adorable Kristen Bell makes her first appearance on Heroes Monday. Can she use all her charm to make me give a shit about Peter and the Lucky Charms gang? Perhaps. Check out a preview of her here.

Nine reasons to Love Mad Men from TV Guide, here. I've yet to watch the season finale, though my non-spoilery web-skimming indicates that it is fantastic -- though with a controversial plot element. Hmmm. That should be interesting.

More from TV Guide: notes about the debut of the 24 Season 7 trailer. After last season's colossal misfire, I'm hoping for a strong rebound. I posted my thoughts on how to "fix" things here. Doesn't sound like they really listened to me, but I am mildly intrigued. Billy Walsh/Wally Balls? Faux Kristen Chenowith's real life girlfriend as the Prez? Tony! Left wing nutjob though still adorable Janeane Garofalo? Will she and Chloe have a pout and snark-off? Doctor Phlox? Amateur poon-ographer Brent from Dirt? I'll check it out. Here's the countdown to the trailer premiere.

One of my pet peeves is mis-quoted movies. Here is a list of the most frequently mis-quoted quotes. And another one.

And you thought people were through debating whether or not Tony Soprano is dead? Think again. Apparently, David Chase made a comment about Gerry Torciano's whacking in the restaurant in front of Silvio, and that spurred another round of detailed analysis. Fascinating stuff.

I finally watched last Friday's premiere of Women's Murder Club. It played like a combination of Sex In The City and CSI, and was a decent enough way to pass an hour while drinking beer and eating pizza. I love Angie Harmon (my favorite Law and Order ADA) and Laura Harris is a long time celebrity crush, with absolutely perfect hair. As I watched the credit unroll, I was flabbergasted by the producers: James Patterson, the former adman turned novelist, who wrote books on which the show is based. Showrunners/writers Elizabeth Craft and Sarah Fain, former writers and story editors for Angel. Creepy daughter pimping loon Joe Simpson. Chubby Hollywood starlet-banging playa and hack director Brett Ratner. Did the latter two hatch this idea when they were sitting around Brett's hot tub talking about Jessica's tits? Just bizarre. Still, I like the cast and I'll always give a shot to any show featuring former Whedon writers.

Auto Parts stores are cool, and so are South Africans

I had an interesting Friday.

When I moved up here, I needed to have a trailer hitch installed on my SUV so I could haul all of my short term stuff behind me in a glorious and aerodynamic U-Haul. I've never needed a trailer hitch before, and didn't relish the thought of spending close to $2,000 for the "towing package." Of course everything is more expensive when you're dealing with a BMW ("replace that cupholder? That will be $1,632 dollars, sir. Achtung, motherfucker!"). Hell, if I had gotten the "official" package from the dealership, I probably could have flown my coffeemaker and 22 UGA golf shirts directly here in first class for less.

However, someone at the dealership took pity on the defeat in my voice when I heard the price of a trailer hitch. He recommended this innovative new product that was coming over from South Africa. It had one representative in the US, and he just happened to be in Atlanta. And the name of the company? Star Trek! (Of course, that won't last, given copyrights and all. But I saw it as a sign from the planet Vulcan). They could put a hitch on the vehicle for a fraction of what I was quoted elsewhere. And the design was pretty freaking cool. It could be easily taken off and put back on at my leisure, and the bimmer would look the same, and not like I'm toting a bass boat to the crick this weekend with a case full of iced Shaeffer. Awesome. And it would only take an hour to install. Even better, as I was up to my ass in pre-move activities.

Well, I won't recount the horror of my "day" at the installation facility. Needless to say, it was on the far side of Atlanta. And it took over 6 hours. And the "facility" where I spent the day had no waiting room, only one rickety chair. And I got stuck in Friday rush hour traffic returning to my house.

Well, I finally got up here with the U-Haul and unpacked. Dropped off the U-Haul the next day. And when it was time to take off the hitch and return my vehicle to normal (and remove the Dale Earnhardt and Bass Pro Shop stickers from my back window), guess what? The key didn't work. The hitch could not be removed. Of course. So I've been driving around for two months with a protrusion out the ass of my car, like a redneck hemorrhoid.

Fortunately, when I contacted the company that came up with this innovation, they were beyond concerned and helpful. They lamented the fact that their choice of Atlanta installer was a poor one, and vowed to make it right. Of course, not having nationwide franchises like McDonalds complicated the matter, given the fact that I was in Maryland and they weren't really anywhere. So here was the solution. Two of the co-owners of the company were flying from South Africa to (ironically) Atlanta, and then on to Vegas for an auto accessories show. They would schedule a layover in my area, and I would pick them up at the airport and they would right the wrongs of the moronic installers.

So this Friday, I make my way to Dulles airport in rush hour to pick them up. Let me say now that DC traffic is only slight below that of Atlanta in terms of blood boiling frustration. Still, everything went as planned, and I picked up two delightful funny-speaking gentlemen at the curb, and they had tools and a brand new hitch. Fortunately, they spoke a sort of broken English in addition to whatever else they were fluent in. Now, keep in mind I don't live near Dulles. And there is no local dealership in which to do the work. So where the hell do you go to take off your bumper and install a new trailer hitch with two wacky South Africans? To a Starbucks parking lot, naturally.

We pull up in a remote area of a strip mall parking lot, and start the work. I'm working the crackberry, quaffing Ventis like they're going out of style. "Do Americans really drink that much coffee? Are these places everywhere?" ask the boys. Oh, yes, my friends. Oh yes. About halfway through the process, they realize they need some.....well.....stuff. After a game of South African charades, I understand they need WD-40. Fortunately, between the crackberry and the GPS, I have the world at my fingertips and we discover that there's an Advance Auto Parts a couple of blocks from there. One of the guys hops into the car with me, and the other stays in the parking lot to watch over the nuts, bolts and my back bumper. I'm sure that must have been surreal for the panhandler that had come up him as we returned. Some random dude standing in a Starbucks parking lot, surrounded by tools and a large silver bumper, smoking Marlboro reds and trying to explain "I don't have a dollar for you - beat it" in a foreign language.

Anyway, when we got to the auto parts store, the guy with me thought he was in heaven. Rows and rows of auto parts, all neatly labeled. Same question as Starbucks: "are these places everywhere?" Uh, yep again. You know, the rest of the world may hate us, but when it comes to convenient coffee and auto parts, fuck 'em. We've got it covered. Take your enlightened politics and rich cultural heritage and stick them up your ass, Europe. If I want a can of WD-40 and a huge Venti Sumatra with double cream, I can get 'em in 10 minutes on any street corner. That's worth dumping tea in a harbor and a little waterboarding among friends, right?

The guys quickly completed their work in the Starbucks parking lot, and now I have a perfectly working (and easily removable) trailer hitch. They were very, very cool and I can't tell you how nice it was to finally have something go right. Think about it. A South African company with virtually no American presence could have let one customer off in the hinterlands of Maryland just get stuck with a faulty install. What could I have done? There was no retail store to stand in front of and bitch. I could blog about it, and the literally dozens of readers here could boycott them the next time they needed a nifty hitch installed on their bimmer. The only "place" I could actually go to have the work done "right" was over 10 hours away. But they changed their trans-continental flight plans to help out one single customer and make sure everything was handled and that I was happy. Now THAT, my friends, is customer service.

After I dropped them off back at the airport, they said they had a few hours before their next flight and would probably take a cab tour of DC, just so they could see some more of America. I told them that would probably be interesting (I still wanna tour DC myself), but if they really want to know what "America" is all about, pay attention in Vegas. The excess, the waste, the consumption, the gambling, the glitz, the shiny insincerity -- THAT is America. If they were impressed by a Starbucks and an auto parts store, just think how they'll feel strolling through the Bellagio or Caesars.

So, a big THANKS to my new South African friends, and a company that really stands behind its product.

Great Mad Men Article

Maureen Ryan has a fantastic, in-depth piece on TV's current best show, AMC's Mad Men. In addition to her analysis and reporting, there's also a great interview with the show's creator, Matthew Weiner.

If you're a fan of the show, it's a must read. Note: There are mild spoilers, but they're all clearly marked and in reality, not that significant. Enjoy.

Love, life and crime in a small town. A ZOMBIE town.

I can't believe I never heard a thing about this pilot being developed for CBS: Babylon Fields. An hour long drama about the ramifications of people -- dead people -- in a small town coming back to life as zombies.

Is this any more far out than some of the other programs that made it to air? And hell, it's certainly a better idea than some of the continuing stream of reality crap that pollutes our channels (and most certainly will with even greater volume if there is indeed a writer's strike).

Check out this link to read more about this pilot that sadly, didn't make the fall line up nor even the mid-season replacement slate. And be sure to watch the three snippets of video. Tell me you wouldn't watch a show about a town of zombies.

Well, I know somone that likes to fuck ATMs. Is that close?

An artificial intelligence professor thinks it won't be long until humans have sex with and marry robots. In fact, he believes the sex part should happen within five years and that Massachusetts (of course) will be the first state to legalize robot marriage.

I'm not sure about all of that, but I know I've longed for the "reboot" option quite a few times. Plus, it reminds me of this line from Season 5 of Angel:

FRED: We think so. The nervous system seems human at least, but the rest of the technology is so foreign to us. We can't be sure of anything right now. This thing really blurs the line between human and robot.

SPIKE: Aha! So you're not ruling out that a human being could've boffed a robot. Sex with robots is more common than most people think.

Another Saturday, another "Husker" moment

Go to www.scifi.com to check out another Bill "Husker" Adama webisode.

Ain't buying what you're selling, honey

A little while ago, there was a Craig's List posting from a shallow trollop who wanted nothing more than to get married to a rich dude. It didn't take long, but someone has posted a very true and amusing response. You can read both, and chuckle, here.

That reminds me of something a former mentor once told me: "If it flies, floats or fucks -- rent, don't buy."

Saturday morning entertainment potpourri

Would a Serenity direct to DVD sequel be a good idea? Personally, I think that I would take more Firefly adventures in any format I can get them. Eventually, someone will attempt to capture the "pay as you go" model for delivering ad-free content outside the studio/network model, and there's probably no better person to try than Joss. Think about it. Would you pay $0.50 or $1.00 per episode for new adventures of with the crew of Serenity? Or in the Buffy/Angelverse? I would. The weekly budget for production for a new show is typically in the $1,000,000 range. That would mean 1 million fans would have to pony up a buck each week to watch a show. Fans in larger numbers pay that each week to download episodes they've already seen for free from I-Tunes. And great, great shows that aren't exactly CSI or Grey's in terms of total viewers average 2 - 4 million viewers each week, and that's enough to get you cancelled. If half of those folks ponied up the change left over from coffee each week, that would be enough to support an ad-free, direct sell show. Just something to think about, and fans of Joss are among the most rabid and supportive.

Speaking of Joss, two more items. He's going to direct another episode of The Office. And those Buffy "sing alongs" in theatres? Canceled, because of greed. Hey, I'm an Ayn Rand/Gordon Gekko fan from way back. But were these things really "hurting" anyone? Was someone attempting to generate enough funds to build a secret army or buy up real estate like Lex Luthor? No, they were mainly a labor of love, and a way for fans to celebrate a common passion. I was fortunate enough to participate in one a few years back at Dragon-Con, but also wanted to attend one of the updated versions touring the country right now. My dear Atlanta friends the Es went to one during one of my recent trips down for a UGA game (I didn't go -- I was busy watching a different type of horror show: a Willie Martinez coached defense), and said it was a blast. Unfortunately, they may have attended one of the very last ones. That just sucks.

Earlier this week, I posted my "daemon" from The Golden Compass. As I noted then, I haven't read the books, but now I'm even more inclined to pick them up. Any thing delusional zealot and blowhard Bill Donohue thinks is bad, I would tend to like. I didn't check out the Narnia movie, because of the religious backstory and ham-fisted allegories. ("It's just like Lord of the Rings! Except more poorly written and full of God!") It's well known that CS Lewis wrote those stories with a rather thinly veiled agenda, and I find it amusing that Pullman's "Dark Materials" trilogy tries to provide a balance to that and is getting blasted by believers in one fairy tale who condemn another (that is just as equally and logically plausible).

A meeting of the geek-verses. Kevin Smith loves Lost.

The Top 20 Starship Captains. Yes, there are some facts wrong in there. But it's a fun list. And any "top 6" that includes Jean-Luc Picard, James T. Kirk, Han Solo, Mal Reynolds and Bill Adama is fine in my book (But Kathryn "I never met a temporal rule or Prime Directive I couldn't break" Janeway? Please).

The new TV season has been all over the place for me thus far. I will say that of the many new and returning shows I was excited about, there are still two lurking in my faux "Now Playing" list that I haven't yet watched: Reaper and Pushing Daisies. I'm looking forward to watching both of those.

Many of the returning shows just haven't done it for me. Law & Order: SVU has been downright terrible. Heroes has been lackluster (the "Lucky Charms" gang? The spanish Wonder Twins?) and only the Kensei story and the return of Sylar are keeping me interested. HIMYM has been okay, but seems to be missing something. The Office has had some great moments, but the hour-longs tend to wander too much and have characters behaving too stupidly for their own good occasionally. On the other hand, Desperate Housewives has been better, particularly with the addition of the devilish and MILF-tastic Catherine Mayfair (Dana Delany) and her husband, Captain Tightpants. House has delivered one rock solid and laugh out loud funny ep after another. Bones has been very good. Law and Order: CI's move to USA hasn't hurt it, either. It's always been my favorite of the Law and Order troika, and I dig Logan's new partner, the quirky and scorching hot Alicia Witt (who is replacing another quirky hot "firecrotch" -- as Witt's character was called on Thursday's ep -- Julianne Nicholson -- while she is on maternity leave).

Of the news shows I've seen, I'm really digging Chuck. And Bionic Woman is all over the map. The pilot was okay. The second ep was terrible and leaden. The third ep was outstanding. Michelle Ryan hasn't exactly won me over with her flat line readings, but she has nice lips. The star of the show, however, is Katee Sackhoff as the "Faith-esque" first bionic woman Sarah Corvus, and lights up the screen whenever she's on. Although they weren't part of the fall network premieres, I have really enjoyed Mad Men and Torchwood. In fact, I since we don't have BSG or Lost right now, I would proclaim Mad Men the Best Show on TV. It just keeps getting better and better, and I'll be sad when the season finale airs next week (though it will be back for a second season. Yeah!). Tragically, I don't have Showtime here in temp living land, so I can't say anything about Season 2 of my favorite new show from last year, Dexter. Guess I'll have to catch up on that via DVD next year.

I was all prepared to hate Moonlight. It has an unbelievably troubled development history, got panned by several prominent critics and its premise seems like a complete rip-off of one of the all time classics, Angel. However, I've seen three eps now and I'm quite entertained. No, it's no Angel, but the leads are charismatic enough and if it can inject just a bit of wit, it should be a keeper.