|THE BLACK LIST: THINGS GET DOUBLE PLUS UNGOOD.|
|By The Black Table||
When you move to New York City from anywhere else on Earth, there's a hazing process that goes on. As if you were some foreign microbe, the City actively tries to kill you, throwing a wide variety of horrors, from rat infestations to home invasion, in an attempt to make you go.
This week, we discover that life in the City can suck. Like the fact Prospect Park has a broken glass coating. That sucks, especially if you have clumsy, curious children who like to eat shiny, multicolored things off of the ground. Telling your super to go screw and then expecting him to fix your crap also sucks, while we're on the topic. And all this cold weather kinda sucks too, since monsoon season in June pretty much killed our chance at getting tans.
Sure, that School of Rock movie with Jack Black was decent, but if you think we can sit through Michael McDonald's white-boy soul routine for MCI for another second you're out of your fucking mind. All in all, we got 11 reviews this week -- but only three were even a little bit positive.
Turn to the dark side, feel the hate, but remember: We built this city on rock and roll.
(And while you're at it, please submit a review of something. CLICK RIGHT HERE. As simple as filling out a form!)
SCHOOL OF ROCK: The otherwise brilliant Sarah Silverman has a stupid character to play, and she plays her poorly. There. I just summed up everything that's wrong with this movie. This is like every other loser-learns-what' s-important-through-children formula movie ever made, but it's damned near perfect all the way through for three reasons: 1. Jack Black, who has the uncanny ability to make even the slightest comedy bit work on three or four different levels while still making it look like he's not trying very hard; 2. The rare movie children who resemble actual human beings (while still being cute, of course); 3. a genuine rock spirit (what other kids' movie would EVER play old-school Metallica during a race sequence?) that, somehow, really does make you think rock and roll can save your soul. My foot literally did not stop tapping throughout the entire film. A- -- Will Leitch
MICHAEL MCDONALD'S MCI AD CAMPAIGN: In some of my most vivid, horrifying nightmares, I'm being followed by the disembodied head of Michael McDonald. Thanks to MCI's new ad campaign featuring the ex-Doobie Brother's rendition of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", my nightmare can resurface any time I watch television. His head is just too big, too furry, and he always has this facial expression that if he's not singing in his horrid, drowning, castrated Soul-inspired voice, he's going to just *stare* at you. He's a cross between Kenny Rogers and one of those animatronic country bears at Disney World. He's the mean shopping mall Santa Claus who smokes little cigars and reads Hustler on his coffee break. I implore MCI to stop this man, cancel this campaign and wake me from this wretched sleep. F -- A.J. Daulerio
THE GREAT DEPTFORD T-SHIRT PROJECT: Are you tired of going to picked-over, over-priced, played-out thrift stores just to get an original t-shirt? Are you the type of person who wants a shirt so obscure that it makes hipsters so jealous that they forget about pretending to be jaded? Well look no farther than The Great Deptford T-Shirt Project. Based out of the Gallop Gallery in Deptford, London (relax people, they have a website www.gallop.co.uk) this art project/fashion movement urges people to bring in pictures to be screened onto t-shirts. After brining in an image, participants get to pick out a t-shirt made with someone else's image. What has resulted is this unique collection of clothing, featuring prints of everything from chopstick instructions to kids screaming to a woman with a fish. Unable to resist the lure of owning my own "one-off" t-shirt, I traded in a Polaroid of my friend drinking a 40 for a t-shirt with the 1956 winner of the Tour de France as an old man. Jealous? A -- Darin Bresnitz
named Montecore attacked Roy Horn, of Sigfried and Roy fame, and tossed him around like a ragdoll in front of a live Las Vegas audience. Bleeding heavily, Horn was dragged him offstage by the tiger and is now in critical condition. After 35 years in Las Vegas, the show has been closed, 200 people have been laid off and Roy may or may not live. Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Antoine Yates, cared for a tiger (and a five-foot-alligator) inside his Harlem apartment and was attacked and sent to the hospital when the cat grew agitated about living above 97th street. This is horrible. Both Horn and Yates were caring for these ungrateful tigers, grinding out the hours at grueling day jobs just to provide those little treats that tigers can't get in the wild. And now Siegfreid's got no Roy and Yate's five-foot alligator loses his best pal. Honestly. These humans did and did and did for those tigers and THIS? This is the thanks they got?! D+ -- Eric Gillin
THE ULTIMATE CIGARETTE BUTT RECEPTACLE: The makers of the "ultimate smoker's urn" are getting rich $129 at a time. Every single bar and restaurant in NYC now has one in front. I guess it's supposed to keep us from throwing the cigs on the ground, but at first I thought someone had abandoned a Genie bottle and a group of hipsters had gathered 'round to wish for new Von Dutch T-shirts. Or perhaps it was a decorative stand for the unnecessary velvet rope and the rope hadn't been brought out yet. Then I realized people were putting their cigarettes in it. Their website says it won't burn or melt. That's horseshit. I saw one in California and plumes of smoke were gushing out of it and half the top had melted and was leaning precariously towards an old lady waiting at the curb. Way more hazardous than stamping the butt out with your toe and littering the sidewalk. A good idea, but I think the Smokers Oasis people need to address the flammability of the Butt Genie before they get sued. C- -- kowgurl
SWEDISH SINGER SOPHIE ZELMANI: Are you that guy who watched Amelie a thousand times? Do you sigh and lovelornly daydream about what ever happened to the cute, petite, foreign waitress you briefly dated? Meet Sophie Zelmani, your ultimate euro-waif dreamboat. I first caught her covering Dylan's "Most of the Time" on the "Masked and Anonymous" soundtrack and I've been in love ever since. She grew up in Sweden, but she would look more at home as hostess of the Athens Cafe in Astoria than in some bikini contest. Her delicate, almost childlike voice -- to put it in her words -- "makes my knees shake." Check out her three albums and if she ever comes to NY, I'll see you in the front row, because, p.s., her songs are surprisingly good. A -- Chris Goldberg
THE OMINOUS ARRIVAL OF FALL: Call me a pessimist, but despite the fact that this weather is lovely, all I can think about is huddling in a doorway in January to get out of the way of scary winter winds and working on my long jump to avoid slushy corners. When the heat kicks on at the beginning of October, you know you'll be in trouble when February rolls around. I'm finally beginning to understand why old people move to Florida. Del Boca Vista, here I come! D+ -- Miriam Parker
THE "PULLING-OUT-THE-HEART" SCENE IN INDIANA JONES: Was anyone else really freaked out seeing this scene as a child? I saw this for the first time when I was 5 and fuck, I was scared shitless. I mean, he pulls out the guy's heart! His fucking heart!! I was so afraid, in fact, that I didn't watch it again until I was maybe 17. And this time I'm sitting there waiting for the scene, and I watch it and I'm like, what was I so afraid of? The guy's "chest" is totally fake-looking and it's so not a real heart. God, kids can be so stupid sometimes. D -- Alex Taurel
WRIGLEY'S WILDBERRY FROST EXTRA SUGARFREE GUM: This new flavor tastes exactly like Sucrets, those berry-flavored throat lozenges that come in the cute metal tin. My mom used to carry a tin in her purse at all times and would pop one in my mouth if I even looked like I was going to cough. Anyway, Wrigley's team of flavor scientists have managed to clone Sucrets in gum form, right down to the slightly medicated aftertaste. It's a little eerie. D -- Mike Ingram
LOSING YOUR SHIT WITH YOUR SUPER: As cool as it is to actually say you have a super, it is not so cool to lose your shit with your super when you need your toilet fixed. Screaming like a mentally retarded woman on her period at cigar-smoking tough guys named Hugo from the Dominican Republic, will not, get your toilet fixed in a timely manner. Threatening the ugly Blue-Blocker wearing bastard of a man with calling his "superiours" will only make things much worse. This tends to make the passive-aggressive wanker trash your bathroom by breaking everything near the toilet once he finally does come to fix it. F -- Kathie Fries
BROKEN GLASS IN PROSPECT PARK: Though less
famous than Central Park, Brooklyn's Prospect Park is no less loved; even
Olmstead and Vaux, the designers of both, favored the more intimate and
inviting outer-borough edition. Prospect Park features rolling meadows,
thickly forested ravines, a lake that draws waterfowl from throughout
the Eastern Seaboard, and, on any given morning, large amounts of broken
glass along the main path in from Park Slope. Hey, glass-breakers, here's
a fun fact for you: broken glass pierces bicycle tires and small children,
both of which travel this path in large numbers over the course of a day.
Here's another fun fact: you are a pig. Since you're such a fan of broken
glass, why don't you shatter some in your own home so you can have it
all to yourself? F -- J. Daniel Janzen