« February 1, 2004 - February 7, 2004 | Main | February 22, 2004 - February 28, 2004 »
"Still today, I like to be outdoors as much as possible," Ari Lehman, the original Jason Vorees.
Who's scarier? Young Jason Vorhees, played by Ari Lehman, who avenged his mother's death by slaughtering dozens of horny teenagers in the woods, or grown up Ari Lehman, left, who now plays world music?
Apparently the Aforementioned Stapler Ad placed in a Chicago paper which read,
"STAPLER, LOADED. OFFICE black. Not actually mine. Belongs to the company, but I'm sure they won't miss it. $5 obo. Cashiers check only. 312-220-3363"
was actually a creative ruse. A practical joke played on fellow blogger, Blogging When Blogging Wasn't Cool.
BWBWC has this to say to whoever dunnit, "Since Friday I've received about 12 calls from a range of people. Some with legitimate interest in purchasing the stapler. One British man offered some 'cellophane tape' in trade for the stapler. Others were merely curious to see if the ad was fo' real. I finally sold the damn thing today for $5 and a blowjob....Whoever it is, you are my American Idol....If I still had a stapler I'd staple my tongue to your cheek right now."
I couldn't resist sharing this with you, if only because it reiterates what was annoying about the Superbowl halftime stunt --and it wasn't boobies.
from Tshirt Hell
P.S. Tshirt Hell has this to say about the whole thing: "Is everyone else still recovering from the sight of Janet Jackson's boob at the halftime show of the Super Bowl? I wasn't impressed. If she had whipped her cock out, that would have been a different story. If she had whipped her cock out and fucked Justin Timberlake until he wept like a bitch, that would have been good television."
Don't look at me. I don't write 'em. I just post them on the internet as quickly as possible for all of the world to read.
In other news, Sid Bernstein, the man who brought America the Beatles, announced to the crowd at the Walter Reade Theater last night that he has been so inspired by the Beatles coming to America anniversary hoopla that he is coming out of retirement for "one more homerun at Shea". Apparently, he wants to pull off one more history making show at the home of the Mets. I'm not sure if he means a bunch of aged rock stars, or Britney, Christina, Justin and Janet in a big celebrity strip-a-thon in the middle of Flushing. Best of luck either way, Sid.
Now on to the dirt from last night's screening of "A Hard Day's Night" at the Walter Reade Theater. I had the extreme pleasure of sucking up to legendary documentary filmmaker Albert Maysles who, along with his brother David, shot the Beatles' first visit to America . He was on hand last night, along with a panel of other Beatles intimates, to speak about the lads. After the show, I was the lucky ducky who got to tell Maysles that Michael Moore had just been spotted skulking out of the theater, virtually unnoticed and completely unacknowledged by emcee Martin Lewis. Being a fan of Mr. Maysles, I happen to know how much he dislikes the directing style of Mr. Moore. A fact he has made no secret of in the press. Maysles did not disappoint. "Oh, I hate that guy! I hate that guy so much, that I've never seen any of his work," he laughed. "People ask me how I can hate him so much when I've never seen his work. I don't have to read Mein Kampf to know that Hitler was the devil." But how do you really feel about him, Albert?
Every once in a while I have to ask myself if my love for the Beatles is just a result of aggressive programming by the media (and my mother). Do I love them because they are, perhaps, the brightest stars in the 20th century musical cannon? Am I just a sheep? And then, I hear their music again. I get to see one of them perform live, or like last night, I get to see them as they were--young and cheeky, so full of life and incredible, incredible talent--projected onto a giant, 50-foot screen, digitally remastered in all their audio glory, and I know. I don't love them because they are famous. They are famous because you cannot help but love them. I don't care what Nick Hornby says, the excitement of a live Beatles recording is so contagious that, I think, to have been there would have caused my head to pop off.
They Came, They Sang, They Conquered
