Okay, here are some random thoughts I figured I could present in an Andy Rooney style.
You know how Sean Penn won all kinds of accolades and award nominations for portraying a mentally disabled man? Why hasn’t Adam Sandler received similar praise? He does the same thing, only it’s more believable and funnier. Face it, nobody does brain damaged better than Sandler. Just look at him. His face looks like it would be right at home inside a football helmet.
Why does Hollywood insist upon making movies of old television shows? Few of them do well enough to warrant continuing the trend. “Welcome Back, Kotter” is on the way. “The Beverly Hillbillies” has been done. That leaves what? “Mork and Mindy” and “Scarecrow and Mrs. King”? Perhaps “Riptide” or “Too Close for Comfort.”
Doesn’t Reese Witherspoon look kind of like one of those women who comes across as sensual, maybe a bit intellectual and kind of sultry, but seems like she’d be an awkward lover? Is it just me?
Have you ever sat near someone in a theatre who smelled like sweat and garlic? I have. That person usually makes a lot of noise when they eat, too. If they have a soda, they insist upon drinking every last drop, making god-awful slurping noises as they struggle to get their $3.25 worth. I’ve come up with a solution to this vexing problem, but it requires a law that makes it legal to treat some people like deer. The tagging system is already in place, so I don’t think there would be too many snafus there. You would still need a license, though.
Peter Jackson looked better when he was fat.
Am I the only one who hopes they do another Will Smith Fourth of July-release movie? I remember when he was the official start of summer. Life was simpler then. 9/11 hadn’t happened.
I like Oliver Stone, but he seems to be a bit of a crackhead. Maybe it’s because he’s a lefty, or it could be because he’s a crackhead. I don’t know, but you have to hand it to a guy who can make a good Kevin Costner film.
I wish Tori Spelling would return my phone calls, mail, e-mail and respond to the special MySpace page I put up. She doesn’t, though. I hear from her lawyer a lot, but never her. Maybe one day she’ll see the error of her ways and finally admit she loves me. My psychic tells me she dreams of me. That’s one small step in the right direction. Tori, I still have your maxi pad that I fished out of the garbage can in the women’s restroom at Spago’s a few years back. Call me.
And finally, did you ever stop to think about why we’ve seen more vaginas than penises in mainstream movies? I wouldn’t mind seeing more dicks, not that I particularly like seeing them. I just think things should be more equal. If Sharon Stone can show a little of her land down under, I think Tobey Macquire should show his web slinger. Men are too scared, though. They’re afraid they won’t “measure up” to Milton Berle — the standard in famous penises. You don’t hear about women who are afraid their vaginas aren’t deep enough. Men, you shouldn’t fear you don’t have enough inches. Let’s make things even, Hollywood. The woman and gay men out there deserve something to look at. Throw them a bone or two. It’ll save sagging ticket sales, and will win some respect from me.
Thanks for listening, America. See you next week.