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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)