Finally, a link from the Drudge Report that doesn't make want to kill myself: it's this article from the Orlando Sentinel titled "4-inch Lake County Chihuahua may be world's smallest dog."
That's 4.1 inches from foot to shoulder, but tiny is tiny. The owner, possibly an Elton John fan, named the dog "Dancer." In June he'll enter the Guinness Book of World Records as the smallest living dog. While allergic to dogs, I'm of the opinion that chihuahuas are fundamentally funny, so this one I find quite amusing.
My only concern? The inherent danger that comes when Dancer realizes that cuteness equals power. Once that happens, all bets are off. That dog might rule the world, and get another Guinness notice as tiniest leader, replacing Napoleon.55 Fiction Friday runs the 40 in, well, 40.Tired of the troubles his young clients caused, the sports agent tried something different: he built androids with the freakish athletic qualities the league coveted.
After a few years, his creations quit to start a robot army and enslave the human race. But the agent had so much on commissions that he'd retired by then.
Recently I learned that Google can help me inch ever closer to the Motherland, thanks to Blogger's new transliteration feature. (The Google Blog announces it here.) It automatically translates phonetically spelled Hindi phrases into Devanāgarī script. This way, I can properly convey my feelings when English just won't do.
Excellent! Now I just have to learn Hindi.55 Fiction Friday speaks the international language... of math."Don't commit these acts without the courage to face the consequences. If you must turn the gun on yourself, why not do that first, limiting the body count to one? Knowing what you know now, who doesn't agree?"
The penitent speaker had their belated attention. It was a particularly well-attended lecture, especially for Hell.
Celebrate! Brevity is 2 years old today. I even baked a cake:
They say we mold our children into our own image, right? (Sadly, that's not my effort. It's a very convenient contribution to the 2 year anniversary of Engadget. Photo pilfered from Slashfood.)
To my readers out there who are parents, I ask your advice. What once was cute in Brevity is now less so. Brevity's at that toddler age now, and a bit of a brat at that. Will I soon become annoyed with Brevity? Is it time to start thinking about a new blog? That way it will all be fresh and new again. I feel like Frances McDormand in Raising Arizona, who kept having new kids when her existing kids were too big to cuddle.
P.S. I'm actually NOT the type of person who would refer to his blog as his baby. I reserve the term for human infants, biological or adopted, or maybe a tiny monkey in a diaper.55 Fiction Friday will catch up once the taxes are filed.Story forthcoming. I have ideas and everything.
Next Wednesday (April 11) has been proclaimed "Blake Lewis Day" in the city of Bothell, located 12 miles northeast of Seattle. For those only vaguely familiar with American Idol, Blake Lewis is the guy who majors in current pop songs and minors in scatting.
I thought it would be nice to reprint the proclamation.
WHEREAS, the City of Bothell supports all its citizens in the pursuit of fulfilling their dreams and achieving success; and
WHEREAS, the television show, American Idol, is watched weekly by millions of Americans; and
WHEREAS, thousands of young talented men and women audition to become a contestant on American Idol; and
WHEREAS, from the thousands of auditions, only twenty-four are selected as contestants to begin a grueling competition; and
WHEREAS, Blake Lewis, a citizen of Bothell, was not only selected as a contestant but was also chosen to compete as a Top 12 Finalist for the opportunity to become the first American Idol from Washington State; and
WHEREAS, Blake Lewis has brought positive community spirit to Bothell by sharing his talent and ambition with the world.
NOW, THEREFORE, in honor of Blake’s achievements thus far and encouragement for all his future endeavors, I, Mark Lamb, Mayor of the City of Bothell, to hereby declare April 11, 2007, as
Blake Lewis Day
See? City council business isn't always so stuffy.
The most interesting part of this story, at least for me, is that I went to school with Mark Lamb, the mayor of Bothell. We were in the same graduating class. And he's already running a city.
Just imagine: had I made different choices, I could be a mayor now. Not here in Las Vegas, obviously, but somewhere. And then I could address the city council by saying "There's a new sheriff in town." Oh wait, maybe I should just run for sheriff.55 Fiction Friday notes that Washington has another finalist.Story forthcoming.
I don't watch Lost -- any time I set aside for addictive serial drama is already reserved for Prison Break and Heroes. Still, I have absorbed enough through cultural osmosis to know the curious connection between the actors who get into driving trouble and the imminent deaths of their characters.
It started with the double whammy of DUI arrests of Michelle Rodriguez and Cynthia Watros, whose roles later got double whammied. Then Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje was arrested for driving without a license. His character was gone not long after.
So imagine my surprise when I read the headline: "Fox Arrested for Drunk Driving." Matthew Fox? Before clicking the link to read on, I wondered how the Lost producers are going to go on after they kill off the show's main character. Fans will never forgive them. What a bizarre way to end the show.
Turned out the article was about Vivica Fox. Oh well.55 Fiction Friday accepts cashier's checks and money orders.Stacks of magazines were wheeled into the exclusive club.
Members raced to grab Forbes' annual list of the world's billionaires. Higher rankings meant more club privileges and bragging rights.
One man stayed behind and sighed. He'd known his net worth had slipped to $975 million, and was counting the hours until they revoked his membership.
I've paid mild attention to American Idol, but really get into it once it's down to 12 finalists. With DVR, I can just watch the wrap-up clips of the contestants and decide which I want to hear in its entirety (or for which I want to watch the judges' responses).
Normally I start playing favorites around now, but I'd rather address the curious case of Sanjaya Malakar. I saw him and his sister in the auditions, and made a mental note to follow their progress. I mean, Indian-American idols? What a bizarre way to advance the ethnicity! I'm on board!
Interestingly, also on board are Howard Stern and Vote for the Worst. While their intentions are unclear -- is it the frizzy hair? -- I'll take the support. Because this is what everyone needs to realize: enough people who watch American Idol are voting for an Indian guy. This means, in all likelihood, that white teenage girls are voting for him (a theory posed here). And this is a good thing for every awkward, too-skinny Indian high schooler trying to fit in. Trust me, I know.
Voting for older and better singers may be wise. But voting for Sanjaya is actually important.55 Fiction Friday hung out in the chemistry lab after school.The hit show's producers decided to try something different.
Whittle the field to 64 singers and divide them into four groups: Stevie Wonder wannabes, soulful divas, Southern rockers, and punk chicks. Keep Randy and Simon, but replace Paula with Dick Vitale.
Ratings were about the same. The winner had old school appeal but mid-major talent.
Last week I addressed the disturbing similarity between Maryland women's basketball coach Brenda Frese and Randall Boggs of Monsters, Inc.
This week I'd like to do the opposite. That is, distinguish between two people that both laypersons and scholars are unable to tell apart: John Maynard Keynes and Maynard James Keenan.
For the record, John Maynard Keynes was a British economist who contributed significantly to our understanding of that field today. Maynard James Keenan is a rock musician best known as the lead singer of the bands Tool and A Perfect Circle. But yeah, it's easy to see how people get confused. There's no point putting up pictures; they're like twins.
Just for fun, try to guess which man said each of the following (use the comments for your answers):
1. "I would rather be vaguely right, than precisely wrong."
2. "I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile."
3. "There has been no common purpose lately between nations or between classes, except for war."
4. "Someone feed the monkey while I dig in search of China."
5. "You must have spent much time eating apples and talking to the serpent!"
6. "I need to watch things die from a good safe distance."
7. "In the long run, we are all dead."
I'm not the first person to have to make this distinction (or use the last quote). That honor goes to Sam Logan, creator of the comic strip Sam and Fuzzy, at the bottom of this page.55 Fiction Friday is often mistaken for TGI Friday's.
Recognizing imminent defeat, the Persian general summoned the scribe. He characterized the battle in great detail, and secured safe passage of the scrolls to England.
Still, he was concerned. "Will my tale be preserved for posterity?"
The scribe was confident. "Sir, generations will know it. With any luck, it will make a kick-ass graphic novel."
This comparison really makes more sense if you watch a Maryland women's basketball game, but these pictures will have to do:
55 Fiction Friday gives knowledge in exchange for shoes.
Archibald Prescott Wendal, Esq. took the concept of the "street lawyer" to unprecedented levels. He was his own home office, living and working among the people. Any fees went toward his bar dues.
Unlike other attorneys (but like his unlicensed associates), he specialized in liquid asset protection and the Shelter Rule.
Go ahead, Mr. Wendal.
With the Oscars this weekend, I thought I'd finally finish my 2006 movie wrap-up, nearly two months after the fact. Not stale at all! You'll find it here.
As I'm promoting Brevity, the Advanced Screenings Guide lists specific offers for 300, Believe in Me, Beyond the Gates, Black Snake Moan, Dead Silence, Full of It, Gray Matters, The Hills Have Eyes II, I Think I Love My Wife, The Last Mimzy, The Namesake, Premonition, Pride, Reign Over Me, Shooter, Starter for 10, TMNT, Wild Hogs, and Zodiac. Is your city included? Take a look.
55 Fiction Friday is equally prompt.
It was board game night at the State Bar convention.
Naturally, all the international lawyers gravitated toward Risk.
Antitrust practitioners opted for Monopoly, while the defamation attorneys played Taboo.
Jenga was the choice of construction defect litigators; the admiralty lawyers, not surprisingly, immersed themselves in Battleship.
Curiously, everyone that night avoided the game of Scruples.
History is made this weekend -- no, not the BracketBusters again -- when the NBA brings its All-Star festivities to a non-franchise city, Las Vegas. The party league officially meets the party town. Yes, there's an influx of celebrity and tourism, but the event also brings a much needed hip-hop presence, and a lot more recreational activity than even this town is used to having in a single weekend:
Aladdin: Concerts with Nelly, Jermaine Dupri, Pharrell, Bow Wow, Chingy, Li'l Wayne, and T.I, plus appearances by Carmelo Anthony and actor/comedian Cedric the Entertainer.
Caesars Palace: Danity Kane performs in the Tangerine. At Pure, Nicky Hilton introduces her new fashion line, and engaged couple Tony Parker and Eva Longoria co-host a Saturday night event.
Empire Ballroom: This casino-less club across from the Monte Carlo offers parties hosted by LeBron James, actor/singer Jamie Foxx, and TNT commentator Kenny Smith.
Hard Rock: There's a performance by The Roots, and actor Nick Cannon hosts an old school hip-hop showcase. Charles Barkley hosts the official after-game party, while at Body English, Paris Hilton has her birthday celebration. Many diseases will be spread.
Ice Las Vegas: Allen Iverson and LeBron James headline the standalone club, and invite NFL players Terrell Owens and Michael Vick. Bring your own Sharpie.
Mandalay Bay: Dwyane Wade hosts a party at Rumjungle; also look for Twista, Ludacris, Shaquille O'Neal, and NFL stud LaDainian Tomlinson. At the House of Blues, there's music from Common and Ne-Yo, and comedy from Sarah Silverman and Charlie Murphy.
MGM Grand: The Black Eyed Peas perform at Tabu. Magic Johnson and actor LL Cool J host events at Studio 54.
Mirage: Follow party hosts Tracy McGrady and Lamar Odom at Jet, with Grandmaster Flash and Diddy. At Revolution Lounge, there's no basketball crossover when Mario "A.C. Slater" Lopez and Good Charlotte's Joel Madden host a Saturday event.
Orleans: The Black Eyed Peas (again) and comedian D.L. Hughley perform at the off-Strip casino, which usually attracts a Donny Osmond and Vicki Lawrence kind of crowd.
Palms: The "official host hotel" boasts Shaquille O'Neal and musical artists Akon, Diddy, and T.I.
Rio: Last night offered a kickoff party in VooDoo Lounge by a local All-Star, UNLV's own Shawn Marion. Prince performs in his Club 3121 all three nights this weekend.
Strip clubs aren't left out of the action. Dennis Rodman classes up Scores, I guess, while Sapphire has actor Tyrese Gibson. Finally, Seamless advertises "No celebrities. No players. Just hot chicks!" Well, the ones not trying to score an NBA player.
Despite the aforementioned flurry, I'll be avoiding the Strip. I'm not a big NBA follower -- the college game is more interesting and watchable -- and it doesn't help that the big sports story this week is the anti-gay tirade by Tim Hardaway, the last NBA player for whom I considered myself a big fan. Maybe he's still got "skillz," but I don't care for his homophobia, and I really don't care for his instant and meaningless apology.
Makes you wonder about the former Golden State Warriors player, though. What did the Bay Area ever do to Tim Hardaway?
55 Fiction Friday prefaces Monday's post with this:
Gerald Ford knew his chances were slim. Rookies rarely got selected, especially turnover prone players who lacked great individual stats.
Starters were more popular; reserves had more experience.
So he was stunned to be named a replacement by league commissioner John Marshall after Eisenhower went down.
Apparently, you can still tear knee ligaments in heaven.
The pro sports world was mildly rocked with the news that retired NBA player John Amaechi will come out with a book in which he, um, comes out.
When retired athletes admit their sexuality, which is far too rare, there's always some criticism that they'd make a statement if they came out while still playing. What those critics fail to realize is that these athletes ARE making a statement by waiting until retirement. Essentially, they've decided that most pros are too small-minded to be ready for that announcement.
I don't know if Amaechi is saying that, but if he were, he wouldn't be wrong. Outsports has compiled a list of reactions from people in the league and the sports media. These quotes run the full range (rainbow?) from supportive to businesslike to dismissive to critical to ignorant. The best ones -- in a "did they really say that?" kind of way -- try to be supportive but end up sounding offensive, like this quote from former Duke player Shavlik Randolph:
"As long as you don't bring your gayness on me I'm fine. As far as business-wise, I'm sure I could play with him. But I think it would create a little awkwardness in the locker room."
Way to take a stand and represent the Duke blue, Shav. We save a little face thanks to Grant Hill:
"The fact that John has done this, maybe it will give others the comfort or confidence to come out as well, whether they are playing or retiring."
I searched the news in vain for a reaction from the even more quotable and diplomatic Shane Battier. Maybe he's working behind the scenes with Amaechi to develop some progressive grassroots support for the inevitable Battier presidential campaign.
Finally, a moderate kudos go to ESPN Books, which publishes Amaechi's book later this month. I realize that their decision isn't entirely altruistic -- sports books probably sell better when there's social controversy -- but they deserve some credit for looking past sports historians and die-hard fans in pursuing new audiences.
55 Fiction Friday thinks most locker room activity is kinda gay.How could those Internet forum members burn me like that? After years of providing helpful information, some brash newcomers started casually dismissing me.
I posted my retaliatory missive, careful not to say anything personal that would get me banned. And then I waited.
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
Nothing! Man, it's hard to deal with online anger.
I have a few self-imposed rules when it comes to Brevity:1. I don't write about work.
2. I don't write about my personal life.
3. When I link to a book title, I don't use the Amazon listing.
4. I don't quote song lyrics in their entirety.
5. I don't put YouTube or other video screens on the blog itself.
6. There are no pictures of me.
I'm bending that last rule to promote Making the Cover, a free tool provided by HP and the magazines of Time Inc. Upload one of your own photos into covers of Time, Entertainment Weekly, People, or Sports Illustrated. Crop the photo and add a headline.
As you can see, I opted for the last one. I'm about 2 years old there. Pink bats were very big in 1976.
I believe Making the Cover is being offered for free until the end of February, so take advantage while you can.
55 Fiction Friday is unrecognizable without all that guyliner.He hid his business suits in his guitar case, and went to the office early to change. Every "jam session" was really a meeting, and a "gig" was usually some high profile merger. Strange that this was his bliss.
When he got home, he'd put on the stoned act again for his unsuspecting hippie wife.
The phrase is explained here.
The AFC and NFC championships are decided this weekend. For those readers who truly don't know football from Adam, the winners of these games face off in the Super Bowl.
In the NFC game, the Chicago Bears host the New Orleans Saints. The former is a traditional power with a long history of hard-fought success. The latter is a great sports story getting overshadowed by sociopolitical significance. That anyone believes a Saints victory would represent a triumph over Hurricane Katrina frustrates me. I don't want to deny the local fans a bit of escapism, but bandwagon riders need to question their motivations.
Frankly, I'm more interested in the AFC matchup between the New England Patriots and the Indianapolis Colts. Normally, I don't care for either, but I'm perversely curious because clutch kicker Adam Vinatieri, who won some Super Bowls for the Patriots, defected to the Colts. More to the point, which end result would be funnier?
1. Adam wins the game for his new team on a last-second field goal.
2. Adam wins the game for his old team by missing said field goal.
Clearly, a close AFC game is in the best interests of America.
55 Fiction Friday may have suffered hibernation sickness.Inspired by the movie, the fourth graders escaped their tour group and snuck into the employee lounge to wait. There they found Dr. Palfrey immersed in an ornithology guide, Dr. Mendoza solving a crossword, and Dr. Ziegler taking a nap.
They had hoped that, once the museum closed, these boring scientists would come to life.
I cast my ballot today, the last day of early voting here in Nevada. Now, when I ignore those campaign commercials this weekend, I have a very good reason.
One thing I forgot to do was check around the voting machine for a manufacturer name. It had a touch screen, and printed a paper copy so that voters can review their choices. This tells me two things: (1) technological tampering is less likely; and (2) Nevada isn't regarded as a swing state.
If voters like me have their way, soon you won't be allowed to smoke cigarettes inside most Nevada buildings, but you can smoke weed outside of them. Where's my Mary Jane, girls?
55 Fiction Friday leaves no vote counted.The voting machine conglomerate had long ago caved to conservative interests. Interestingly, the technical support team had a secret affinity for blue states.
As expected, the Republican Party carried the day. Slightly more surprising were the names of the victors: Dick Cheney, governor of Ohio; Karl Rove, senator of Missouri; Jack Abramoff, representative of Pennsylvania...
Some official production stills of next summer's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix have emerged and been posted on the Web. Among other places, find them here. I need to reread the book because I don't recall Dolores Umbridge being so flowery:
55 Fiction Friday eagerly looks forward to watching Extreme Makeover: Hogwarts Edition.Waking up alone and later than usual, Xena found only a tear-stained scroll.
Her scholarly blonde companion wrote the truth: the warrior princess shared what she knew, but not what she felt, so the apprenticeship was over.
Xena wasn't one to mope. She remembered what her therapist said and got back on the horse.
"Time brings all things to light." That's the tagline for All the King's Men. I looked forward to this film when it was scheduled for release last year. For whatever reason that can't be good, it was delayed, and my interest was diluted. So when the opportunity arose to watch a sneak preview Thursday night, I proceeded cautiously.
The movie attempts to sell itself as a great American story of politics and power, and boasts an all-star cast loaded with Oscar and Emmy recognition. But, as time brought things to light, it was all an act of desperation in the name of prestige. This film does not measure up. Or constitute a halfway decent drama.
In what amounts to a phenomenal irony, one of the film's many problems is its casting. The filmmakers secured a terrific lineup of actors, but almost all of them play roles that do not suit them. The film is set in Louisiana; where are the Southerners? Sean Penn is Californian. Mark Ruffalo and James Gandolfini are Northerners. Jude Law and Kate Winslet are British. Anthony Hopkins is Welsh. Only New Orleans-born Patricia Clarkson was a sensible hire.
I can get past the miscasting and exaggerated accents if the dialogue is good, but this movie was wrong all over. Bad writing, bad direction, bad editing. The plot was needlessly non-linear, excessively slow, and over-narrated. Worst of all, the film makes no sense, but the filmmakers managed to edit around whatever politics and corruption that was taking place. I never read the Pulitzer-winning book, or saw the Oscar-winning 1949 film, so I don't know how the source material got mistranslated.
The second worst thing about this film is Sean Penn. Playing a man of the people who gets elected governor, he forces an unintelligible Southern accent and chews whatever scenery is around, swaying his body and shaking his arms more than Jamie Foxx did as Ray Charles. It's Oscar bait so blatant that it's actually quite horrible to watch. This isn't immersion; it's mimicry. I hope that the reaction to this film is so negative that his performance is disregarded. But after Philip Seymour Hoffman swept awards season last year, I have every reason to be skeptical.
Even 55 Fiction Friday couldn't put this film together again.The disappearing act was old hat for Waldo. About as old as his actual hat, striped red and white, like his shirt. He knew not to hide among the greenery; the color contrast was too telling. He got comfortable behind a flagpole and waited.
Unbeknownst to Waldo, people had stopped looking for him years ago.
This is a difficult week to have a birthday. Mine was Wednesday, but how fun is it to celebrate 9/13? Aside from the terrorist attacks five years ago that killed 3,000 people, some high-profile deaths have occurred on or around my birthday: Tupac Shakur, Anthony Perkins, Raymond Burr, Beah Richards, and several men named John (Ritter, Cash, Unitas, and Ramone).
I was hoping for an uneventful birthday when I learned former Texas governor Ann Richards died Wednesday night. After getting over the shock -- I didn't know she had esophageal cancer -- I started to wonder if Karl Rove is feeling any pangs of guilt for engineering those homosexual rumors that defeated her, allowing his puppet candidate to begin an unlikely political career. Next I wondered if the media would remember to mention him. Salon did.
Finally, I wonder how we'll pay tribute to Ann Richards. She's often credited with this quote about Ginger Rogers; it's not her line, but she did make it famous. I don't think I can compete, but I will say this: the Dixie Chicks should never feel ashamed of this Texan.
Getting older and moving on. At least 55 Fiction Friday doesn't share a birthday with that pretentious Fiona Apple.Violet veered from the script on live television. The candidate audibly groaned, clearly unraveled by her obscenity-filled rant about health care.
The incident, with its FDA and FCC undertones, provoked national debate.
For Violet, the issue was much simpler. He'd have plenty of moments on camera. But this was her first and last opportunity.
Over the past few weeks, the CBS show Survivor has received all kinds of interesting publicity for its 13th season, which starts next Thursday. First came the announcement that the 20 contestants would be divided into four teams by race and ethnicity: white, black, Asian, and Latino. Then came the denouncement: NYC politicians spoke out against using segregation for ratings, and several advertisers pulled their sponsorship, either coincidentally or not. Here's a nice recap.
Frankly, I don't see the problem. As I understand it, teams get integrated as contestants are voted off; now the integration will be literal. Fans of Survivor know that early alliances ultimately are abandoned. Most importantly -- and I can't emphasize this enough -- 15 cast members will NOT be white.
That's... astounding. Especially for a top 20 show. To compare, look at another CBS series, The Class. It features 8 main characters who went to the same elementary school in 1986 and reunite 20 years later. And they're all white! Were there no minorities in school then? Truly pathetic, but far more indicative of the state of television, both behind and in front of the camera. (One notable and high-rated exception, Grey's Anatomy, has 5 minorities in its main cast of 11, which is a more sensible representation.)
If we followed the Survivor racial ratio, only 2 cast members in The Class would be white. That would be interesting; someday, it could happen. In the meantime, it's a little sad that only reality TV is willing to make ethnic diversity a part of TV reality.
55 Fiction Friday likes to mix it up a little.Why couldn’t Ulrich accept this change? It’s not as though he was surprised this day would arrive. It was inevitable for those of such stature. Over the years, he had grown tall and sturdy in a sunny and fertile environment.
Graduation had come, and it was time for Ulrich to be uprooted. It’s only natural.
Sorry about the silence this past week. I'm in a funk, and it's not the George Clinton kind. I started a few posts -- the planetary verdict on Pluto, an Emmys analysis, and others -- but have lacked the energy and enthusiasm to complete them.
Here at Brevity, a lot of September has been planned, but we'll see if it comes to fruition. Maybe the Columnist Manifesto is right, and there is such a thing as blog depression.
55 Fiction Friday can be fashionably late.Tess was the strongest interpreter at the United Nations. Her roommate Tyra was the fastest fact checker at the New York Times, situated only a few blocks away. Countless weekends were spent planning a worldwide coup. But they settled on lesser acts: a local politician’s perversion of Malaysian customs, a crossword puzzle impossible to finish.
Can you consider an Oscar nominated actor underrated? Maybe, in the case of Greg Kinnear. "Meteoric" doesn't begin to describe his early career path. Filmography highlights: hosted "Talk Soup" on E! until 1995. Filled William Holden's shoes in the remake of Sabrina in 1995. Hosted "Later" on NBC until 1996. Got the Academy's attention for 1997's As Good As It Gets.
And then? The aspiring actor's more realistic dream: a steady career. He's had a healthy mix of high-profile supporting work (Nurse Betty, We Were Soldiers) and low-budget starring roles (Auto Focus, The Matador). Last week I saw advanced screenings of each: Invincible and Little Miss Sunshine.
Invincible is the latest in a genre that Disney has mastered these past few years: the inspirational true sports story. Like Glory Road, Miracle, Remember the Titans, or The Rookie, we relive a purer era of sport that retains all of the action and none of the sex and profanity. And it totally works every time.
Mark Wahlberg takes time out of his busy pants-dropping schedule to play Vince Papale, a regular guy who happens to be built for pro football, despite little organized experience in the sport. He becomes a beacon of hope among his working-class union friends, straight out of a Philadelphia production of On the Waterfront. He gets his chance to become a contender when new Eagles coach Dick Vermeil (Kinnear) holds open tryouts.
It's hard to make audience members care about a special teams player whose primary job is to run down the kickoff returner, but the movie makes it work. Kinnear and Wahlberg do not share a lot of screen time, but still manage to drive home the theme of making the most of an opportunity when given a clean slate.
Little Miss Sunshine is, well, a very different film. The title creates the expectation that creepy child beauty pageants (revived in our memory by recent events) will be mocked mercilessly, and they are, but only in the film's last half hour. It's everything that comes before the climactic competition that makes this movie so special.
This is a quirky family comedy that manages to avoid all the pretentious traps of other quirky family comedies. (I'm looking at you, Wes Anderson.) The film works because each family member provides the others with just the right amount of therapy, despite their individual insecurities.
I imagine most of the praise will go to Steve Carell's tragicomic portrayal of a suicidal academic, but I was more impressed with Kinnear's tougher role as the unlikable motivational speaker and family leader. No complaints, though, from what should be the year's best acting ensemble.
All in all, Greg Kinnear has had quite a run. You accept him on screen, completely forgetting that he wasn't always known as an actor. Consider, by way of comparison, another snarky ex-host with a similar name, who also worked his way up the TV ranks before graduating into movies: Craig Kilborn. That's the more common story: typecasted, into the same comedic jerk persona.
55 Fiction Friday feels typecast as a storyteller.
The checkpoint guards believed that Samuel merited special attention. After all, this was not a case of racial profiling. This was science.
Their stacks of news alerts had emphasized shoe bombs and liquid explosives, so the decision was swift and fierce. Dr. Scholl be damned; in this airport, Samuel would most certainly not be gellin'.
That's 4.1 inches from foot to shoulder, but tiny is tiny. The owner, possibly an Elton John fan, named the dog "Dancer." In June he'll enter the Guinness Book of World Records as the smallest living dog. While allergic to dogs, I'm of the opinion that chihuahuas are fundamentally funny, so this one I find quite amusing.
