Posting has become difficult again.
I admit that it's never easy, but sometimes yet another new Blogger problem crops up or I forget about an old one because I'd been avoiding it for a spell or I just don't have the patience to deal with the workarounds, repetition, and troubleshooting. And that's when I put up the bottle of Devil Tylenol from Hell or its predecessor, the can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup — which you may recall is an ancient Internet tradition begun by Mark Evanier, practiced by an unknown number of folks including me and, I was glad to see recently, at least one online pal of mine. It's also when I share another batch of word-verification definitions if possible, a phenomenon explained on the dedicated page of this blog that collects them all to date.
• ashible — [ash ih bull] adj. Made of such substance as will be reduced to powder by burning.
• Boxidect™ — [boks ih dekt] It's ten — ten — ten boxes in one!
• caticeph — [kat ih sef] n. A being with a feline head.
I can see why so many folks in the American movie biz have both admiration and affection for The Artist as well as why it's received almost universal acclaim from critics. While it does drag a bit in the middle, I found the movie a delight on the whole — and I love the fact that the audience clapped at the end.
Applause when a movie concludes, based on the unscientific sampling that is my own theatergoing experience, is much rarer today than it was when I was a kid. I'm not sure if that's because people are more used to watching movies at home (in smaller parties and/or alone) or because there are fewer films that rouse an audience to applause than there used to be; either way, it's one of the fun, communal aspects of seeing a flick on the big screen in a packed house. The Artist is definitely one to savor in such a setting, surrounded by fellow film buffs in near-darkness with the smell of popcorn in the air.
I won't spoil anything here.
Screencap © 2012 Worldwide Pants Inc.
David Letterman has been having fun with Twitter for a while now. He acts more befuddled than he actually is — mistaking the 17 feeds that the official Late Show Twitter account is following for how many followers it has, for example, when the latter number is actually over 150,000 at this writing, or literally typing in the words "hash tag" (which he's at least amended to "#HashTag").
I wasn't more than bemused with this ongoing bit, however — with one exception — until the moment frozen in the above screencap struck me.
I said at the end of yesterday's post that any write-up of this year's Golden Globes telecast would be short and scattershot. Here's me trying to make good on that claim. For a more in-depth reflection on many of the Globes' quirks, see my write-up from last year.
Overall, Ricky Gervais as host was once again fine but not stellar. Most of his barbs didn't have the bite that I think he wanted them to, as he — and NBC, and The Hollywood Foreign Press Association — seemed to promote his return this year as a go-for-broke train wreck waiting to happen, which is rather a silly thing. Gervais was, y'know, invited back. Of course he comes with a certain amount of edginess, but he's a professional and there were negotiations and he knows how far he can push it. This isn't an accidentally "tweeted" nude photo; it's three hours of prime-time network programming on a Sunday night. We can all feign anticipated shock only so far.
Photo from Talking Funny © 2011 Home Box Office, Inc.
Ricky Gervais is hosting the Golden Globes ceremony again after all.
Last year there was foofaraw from some quarters — including The Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which runs the Globes and was one of Gervais's targets — about his barbs being distastefully sharp. Many of the Western world's most prominent humorists rose up to defend him. I was in the minority position, expressed in my writeup of last year's telecast, of not minding the acerbity of the jokes but feeling a lack in their overall quality and even quantity; Gervais didn't seem as sharp to me as usual (in terms of keenness of delivery, not pointedness of content) and he was AWOL for long stretches.
I get a kick out of seeing what searches lead folks here. While I'm always curious to see the Posts listing in the Stats provided by Blogger, I find how people are landing on certain pages of the blog — and as much why as one can hypothesize from the how — even more interesting than what those pages are.
Very often, I have little to no idea how a given search relates to what Google turns up, like so:
Midnight in Paris came out on home video a couple of weeks ago. I caught it in theatrical release last summer and came away with mixed feelings. Upshot? I'd probably recommend it as a rental for the enjoyable execution of the premise; I only wish that the present-day cast was half as compelling as that populating the scenes set in the 1920s.
Hello! Are you looking for this?
Photo detail © 2010 CBS.
I've kinda rigged the question by providing that photo, since Alex Carter's name was the most searched-for string leading folks to Blam's Blog last year according to Blogger's stats analysis.
So Anderson Cooper was kidnapped by the Broadway version of The Green Goblin last night in Times Square. Spider-Man rescued him. The whole thing was on CNN.
I'm usually watching ABC's Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve, at least in the background, on New Year's Eve. Frankly it's more habit than tradition, since I grew up in the days where it was just about the only (and certainly the most popular) thing on the air broadcasting the ol' ball drop.
Last night, though, CNN was the channel of choice. I had heard good things about Cooper's bizarre annual pairing with Kathy Griffin, and they do indeed make a curious duo: