A Radio Public Service Announcement From the Republican Party:

[jingle]

i lost my leg and it won’t glue back
i lost my leg and it won’t glue back
i lost my leg and it won’t glue back
i ain’t got another cuz my mama smoked crack.

ANNOUNCER: If you’re pregnant and you’re poor, don’t smoke crack. Your child may need duplicate limbs in the event it catches a rare, etiologically-mysterious third-world disease because it was out on the streets every night, selling crack or sex or children for drug liquor and porn money and bleeding the government of funds meant for people in higher income brackets to use in times of below-average stock market performance or really old people whose forefathers fought in the civil war rather than people who can’t get a job because they probably have a criminal record or don’t even know how to read while sharing needles and condoms with the illegals and blacks and gays and probably even the brown-skinned turbans who build weapons of mass destruction in their garages and plan to uproot the institution of monogamy in favor of somewhat homosexual probably bestial debauched sex orgies within which they simultaneously pray to false gods with unlawful names during their carnal relations in front of young children. Because crack kills lepers.

The Republican Party. We understand real people with real problems.

I don’t know why I’m putting this up. I don’t know what’s more annoying…them together or each of them on their own. They’re both so trashy.

Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were Hollywood’s hot couple in October 2003. Now their relationship is as cold as their careers.
COMMENTARY
By Michael Ventre
MSNBC contributor

Updated: 11:31 a.m. ET Jan. 23, 2004

Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez are no more, and the harsh spotlight on them fades. Now Ben can relax and pursue a more sedate coupling with Paris Hilton, while Jen is free to become the next Mrs. Michael Jackson.

Although they are seemingly through with each other, Ben and Jen surely are not finished with celebrity romance. It’s in their DNA, like poor career choices and outlandish shopping sprees. Yet civilized society is in a much better place today, because Bennifer is officially Splitsville, and citizens can now line up at the supermarket checkout stand without getting nauseous from their grinning mugs.

I doubt that either is a malicious type, bent on torturing the populace. But that’s what they were doing. For the past year and a half, they performed a tactless tango before a captive audience, and although they were roundly booed, they couldn’t take a hint and get off the stage. Until now.

Their on-again, off-again shifts in status had magazines like People and Us shuttling staff around the country like military deployments.

Reportedly, it was Jen who ended the engagement. A statement from her publicist added: “At this difficult time, we ask that you respect her privacy.” What the statement fails to mention is, if the public respected her privacy, she wouldn’t have a career.

That is what was so annoying about their union in the first place. Ben Affleck has talent. Jennifer Lopez has talent. But their greatest gifts came in self-promotion. They became famous far beyond their accomplishments, and especially as lovebirds. True, Affleck did share a Best Original Screenplay Oscar along with pal Matt Damon, but the rest of his resume’ is spotty at best. As for Jen, aside from a sparkling turn as a law enforcement agent in “Out of Sight,” which was far more the result of director Steven Soderbergh’s expertise than hers, she has been notable largely for cartoonish displays of diva-like arrogance.

So together, they represented the most repellant aspects of show business. Their on-again, off-again shifts in status had magazines like People and Us shuttling staff around the country like military deployments. They did so many television interviews and talked about their romance so freely, it was as if their relationship was a spinoff of “Project Greenlight.” I can only hope there isn’t a bad movie on the way.

Oh, I forgot. We already have been subjected to the bad movie. “Gigli” was a romantic comedy that was not romantic, comedic or profitable. That was released in August. It bombed both critically and commercially. It also represented the apex of the Ben-Jen phenomenon. Before it, there might have been pockets of resistance in certain parts of the U.S., trusting, cockeyed optimists who still wanted to invest in Ben-Jen’s future together. But when “Gigli” came out, even those holdouts turned, reacting like Enron stockholders who were left with nothing but empty promises.

This breakup puts to rest any talk of weddings. It seemed that whenever there was a ominous development in their situation, a rumor would quickly surface in rebuttal, claiming that a secret wedding was scheduled in some posh locale. These reports could have been planted by their flaks to feed the monstrous blob of publicity they created and allow it to devour everything in its path. Or they could have originated from others who could benefit, like tabloid journalists, paparazzi and resort owners. Regardless, it was yet another reason to reach for the clicker to switch channels, and for the Pepto-Bismol.

Ben and Jen probably got into this to have a little fun together, but primarily to keep their careers in high gear. Instead, it has turned each into a melancholy joke, and it will take some doing to reverse the damage.

Ben’s last movie, John Woo’s “Paycheck,” did not do well, and because of his status as Jen’s elbow ornament for the last 18 months, he is now looked upon as a marginal thespian more desirous of fame and money than respect. He is 31 years old, which means he should have known better than to declare — even as recently as a week ago — that their love for each other was strong and that they would eventually tie the knot. Maybe it comes from being a Boston Red Sox fan all his life, but sometimes you just have to face reality and accept the fact that it isn’t going to happen.

Jen has even less of a career ahead of her. True, there are still teenyboppers out there who are seduced by her meager attempts at pop music and will mindlessly shell out bucks for her next CD, but let’s be frank. This woman is an “American Idol” judge in training. Her acting career is kaput, despite her appearance in Kevin Smith’s upcoming “Jersey Girl” — opposite Ben again, albeit this time in a mercifully brief role. Her only real hope is to latch onto another superfamous boyfriend. From what I hear, P. Diddy is still single, and I don’t think Jen will need a handful of staff meetings with her people to connect the dots on that one.

What both should do is find seclusion for a while before taking on the next phases of their respective lives. They need to isolate themselves from their adoring public and put the painful memories of their shattered bond behind them. As they both can probably attest, however, such privacy is enormously difficult to achieve, especially when you have so many publicists on the payroll.

SOMEONE REMIND ME TO GO TO THIS! Academy Foundation of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is showing a series of really awesome documentaries in LA. http://www.oscars.org/events/docseries2/index.html I really want to see this one!

Stevie
Directed by Steve James
Produced by Steve James
Distributed by Lions Gate Films
Wednesday, February 18, at 7:30 p.m., James Bridges Theater, Los Angeles, free admission

The filmmaker originally met Stevie, an abused and neglected child, when he was in the Big Brother program; he irretrievably steps back into a difficult family situation when he re-connects with this troubled boy ten years later. Although Stevie’s problems have magnified all too predictably in the ensuing years, it is not easy to make clean, easy judgments, as this film shows us.
Digital, 140 min.

Just rented Capturing the Friedmans and I’m SOOO excited. Gonna watch it tonight. A real life dysfunctional family. I’ve been wanting to watch this movie since the summer. It’s up for a Best Doc Oscar.

Have any of you seen Whale Rider? I watched it on the plane to Japan. I love the little girl in it. She’s beautiful and her performance was amazing.

Other random movie thoughts…I hope Lost In Translation wins best picture. It’s definitely my favorite movie of the year. After Cabin Fever, of course. I want to go see Monster sometime in the next few days, since it’s playing right up the street. There was a point in my young life when I knew the profiles of just about every serial killer in the US because I was interested in forensic psychology. Strangely enough I barely remember anything anymore. Where does knowledge like that go? [wooohahaha…]

Dude, I was reading something and found the following.

You look upon sex as an almost religious opportunity for self-dissolution and union with the universal whole. For you sex contains the seeds of enlightenment through immolation of the ego in the fires of physical passion.

It’s about something else but I realized that it’s somewhat of a description of tantric sex (though way too intellectualized, inadequate and confining). I’m always trying to describe this experience to people but can’t seem to find the words. Tantric sex is actually an energy experience, not about the crazy positions. You won’t know it until you have it and then you’ll know what I’m talking about…Something happens. It’s like you’ve disappeared and are part of the universe, yet you and your partner ARE the universe. It’s one of the most amazing experiences ever. But both people have to be absolutely “connected” for that door to open (completely emotionally, psychically naked…there’s more but I don’t know how to formulate it into words..this is an experience I have yet to find adequate words for). It’s not just emotional intimacy. It goes beyond that. You experience the connection and the beauty not only as yourself, but as your partner and as everything that exists. Suddenly, there are no boundaries ANYWHERE. You are everything and everything is you. You’re not even bound by your body anymore. It’s the ultimate in sexual experience but it’s almost a spiritual awakening through a sexual connection. And once you’ve had it, something in you opens up and you change.

That experience changed the way I looked at life. And I know that people who have also experienced it regard it as almost a religious experience that changes them as well. It doesn’t mean that other forms of physical intimacy aren’t as good…being physical with someone comes in different flavors (tones, situations, emotional approaches, acts, whatever) and to be able to experience different ones at different times is what makes the physical side of life fun and worth having. And don’t think of this experience as something that will keep you together with another person forever, for better or for worse. It’s just an experience. But if you can find someone with whom you have a soul connection, and manage to each put down all of your walls and take the leap of true intimacy and connectedness for just a small window of time, you will have the chance to experience something that goes beyond words and the confines of this world.

don’t worry…this isn’t from my anthology…

A letter written by a heartbroken man to his
estranged partner

Dear Audrey:

I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.

Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says… “There’s no one like you, Audrey.” I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you.

They’re not even close.

Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingoes and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice-skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Jugs you wouldn’t believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes. But you see what I’m getting at.
Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Audrey? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before.

I Don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’d tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some niggling feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there, Audrey, to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Audrey, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.

Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at Pontins last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad too. ‘Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Audrey ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex aid.”

Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good counsel about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Audrey, She really is. So we’re drinking in a hot bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing and that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?

It’s true, Audrey. In your heart you know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances and start fresh? I think we can.

If you feel the same please, please, please let me know, otherwise, can you let me know where the remote control is.

(I don’t know who wrote this – 3amW)