We hate a lot of things -- Radiohead , the "Jamily," Oprah, Arliss -- but man oh man, do we hate Republicans . . . Our favorite sign: "W is for Women." Guess what? It's actually for "White." Just who are these seventeen percent of African Americans voting for Dubya? Besides JC Watts, Colin Powell and Shaq, that is (we prefer to believe The Rock was doing a gig, not expressing his political preference. Besides, it's fun to watch Brent Bozell get pissed off). Also, is it time to start making fun of Neil "S&L Scandal" Bush? Think he'll come out with his own brand of (presumably lite) beer? Come to think of it, where's Roger Clinton? Shouldn't he have a new record out?

At long last, Aug. 4, the release date for the movie we've been most looking forward to all summer long. And new films from Paul Verhoeven and Clint Eastwood to boot! Someone should do an article on that Piper Perabo, she could really use some press . . . Update: Marcel fromFriends is currently the "Rally Monkey" for the Anaheim Angels. Who says watching ESPN isn't educational? No word on what Matt LeBlanc's Ed co-star is up to . . . Newbury Comics in Boston is still a fine record store, and the novelty section is like one-stop Christmas shopping for Wayne Coyne . . . Paul "Mike and the Mechanics" Young is dead, but worry not, Paul "Wherever I Hang My Enormous Penis, That's My Home" Young is alive and well in the South of France.

So the University of Hawaii has stopped calling its sports teams the "Rainbow Warriors" because the school administration thinks it's, well . . . totally gay. "That logo really put a stigma on our program at times in regards to its part of the gay community, their flags and so forth," athletic director Hugh Yoshida said. Does Greenpeace know about this? We're thinking those season-ticket packages that came with rooms at the Sheraton Lanai and a same-sex marriage license have also been discontinued. Someone should break into the U. of H. locker room and paint pink triangles on the football uniforms.

That Stuff cover featuring Lacey Chabert creeps us out. On the other hand, Anna Paquin is coming along rather nicely. We'll take her over Natalie Portman any day ('cause she's a much better actress, we mean) . . . In other news, we understand that Anna's twice-her-age, twice-as-hot X-Men co-star Famke Janssen is newly husband-free, to which we can only say, in the words of Joey Tribbiani, "How you doin!?" Baby, we promise to treat you just like Kenneth Branagh did in Celebrity. Of course, with our luck she's probably hooked up with Jay McInerney (who would also treat her that way, we're thinking).

Late Eighties/early Nineties reunion fever: The Wonder Stuff are giving it another go, and Michael's really, really psyched. The Waterboys have also resurrected, but we know better than to get pumped just 'cause Mike Scott decides to use the name again (now if he actually rounded up Wickham, Wallinger and Thistlethwaite . . .). Also returning, with a new record and everything, are the Bangles. What the hell, we don't blame Susanna Hoffs for trying earn a little dough. If her husband keeps directing movies as bad as The Spy Who Shagged Me and Mystery, Alaska, she'll be the only breadwinner in that family. However, we believe that if Behind the Music has made it all the way to the Bangles, it might be time to end the show. Who's left, Beat Happening? Yo La Tengo? The Dream Syndicate? (Come to think of it, we'd like to see Kendra and Steve slug it out for that one).

How boring is Faith Hill? We wouldn't turn her away from our door if shewere half-dressed in a rainstorm or anything, but, let's face it, she plays a nurse, a cop, a dominatrix and a waitress in her video, and still gives off absolutely zero sexual heat. She's no Shania. And whoever does her tunes is no Mutt Lange . . . What a bummer that American High sucked. Our theory: twenty-two-year-olds are amusing, seventeen-year-olds are just depressing, stupid and young . . . Now that Robert Downey Jr. is free, could we lock up Ethan Hawke?

Britney Spears is going to be doing one of those Clairol Herbal Essence commercials. Oh yeah, we've got a totally organic experience for her. We recently had occasion to re-admire Britney's leather outfit from last year's Video Music Awards, and there's just no getting around it. Digging Britney does not make us dirty old men. Just men . . . Speaking of generously proportioned women we love, we'd like to welcome back Sophie Ellis-Bextor. We'd prefer a new theaudience album, but for now Sophie is the voice on what's tipped to be this year's hottest dance track (y'know, in Ibiza and stuff). It's by Siller, a.k.a. DJ Kristiano Spiller. Sophie, all you had to do was ask and we would have spilled something for you.

We've done a little more research into that putative death threat we got a couple of weeks back. Federal agent Frank McPike informs us that the sender was from Muhlenberg County, Ky. We now believe he or she was not an aggravated Pearl Jam fan at all, but rather, someone who got us confused with the author of that recent New Yorker piece on people who eat squirrel brains . . . Personal to all you "Jamily" types that have used our sparkling wit and questionable taste as an excuse to bitch about Rolling Stone: You wouldn't happen to know the name of the only magazine in the world to publish a thoughtful, empathetic and painstakingly reported Roskilde story? Oh, that's right, you cancelled your subscriptions, you probably missed it.

Well Hung at Dawn comes to you this week thanks to Tremble, our newfavorite high caffeine drink. It makes regular coffee seem like Celestial Seasonings. Why just tonight, in addition to this column, we've written an epic poem about Thom Yorke and recorded three garage albums (one of which might be speed garage -- we're not sure).

Send those letters, Republican PAC lists and bootleg MP3s of "Daughter(Unfinished)" to: Sqwubbsy@aol.com

JASON COHEN and MICHAEL KRUGMAN
(August 5, 2000)