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THE FACT JOE LIEBERMAN SOUNDS LIKE THE DAD FROM ALF: It seemed like a pretty sneaky move to run for Senator while still on Gore's presidential ticket in 2000. But maybe Joe just knew something that we didn't, like the proverbial hermit crab who flees his shell before it explodes… because he smells gas. Anyway, I'm willing to let that slide and maybe even vote for Joe for one reason: He has the exact same voice as Willie Tanner, the father from ALF. Every time I hear Joe on TV, I truly believe, if only for a few glorious seconds, that ALF is back on TV and I'm hearing a witty quip from the head of the Tanner household. Then the theme song plays in my head, as it is right now. When I'm this happy, I can only give an… A+ -- Papa Krantz

WOMEN WHO WEAR BLANKETS AS COATS: Give it up ladies. A crocheted blanket or mohair throw is not an acceptable substitute for a real coat. You are one small step from wearing a poncho a la David Crosby at the Monterey Pop festival, and no one is mistaking you for Carrie Bradshaw. Not only do you look silly and not the least bit attractive or bohemian, but think about the implications: Do you wear your purse on the outside or the inside? How do you fasten it? What if you have to carry an umbrella? Throw coverings belong only a few places: on the sofa while watching TV or in the hands of a child that needs a blankie. Even invalids wear bed jackets. If you must indulge your knit fetish, at least take one big step back and wear one of those stupid long sweater jackets. For everyone's sake. D -- Paul Casey

GULFSTREAM V: Oh, glorious silver-tipped bird! Oh, king of the skies! Oh, lord of the clouds, defender of the right of man to avoid airport delays during trans-continental travel! The Gulfstream V can fly from London to Shanghai nonstop and has a fully customizable cabin. I recommend the Hollywood Regency office style, featuring shag carpeting and Lucite accents. With a top speed of 0.8 mach, it may not be as fast as a 777, but it is infinitely sleeker -- and we all know what kinds of people fly commercial. This magnificent bird holds one man and seven ladies quite comfortably. I should know, I'm writing this somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. More black truffle pate, ladies? A+ -- Phillippe Coullette, IV

LABYRINTH ON DVD: Labyrinth was a favorite childhood film and the new DVD release highlights its combination of Jim Henson's puppet wizardry, George Lucas's executive production, Jennifer Connelly's youthful exuberance and David Bowie's huge penis, packaged perfectly in tights. Indeed, the movie still retains some magic. As a seven-year-old, I was fascinated with the labyrinth's intricate M.C. Escher-esque world of mysterious creatures. Mostly though, I was fascinated with David Bowie's penis. In 1986, I had yet to experience the ballet, and had never been exposed to a bulging cock in a pair of tights. Viewing Labyrinth was a shocking and personality-defining moment. Bowie's crotch hypnotized me as a kid, but with the enhanced DVD color and definition, it was even more mesmerizing. Sadly, Labyrinth's plot failed to hold my interest, Jennifer Connelly's overacting was obvious, but Bowie's cock remained glorious. Labyrinth: B- Bowie's cock: A -- Liz Moran

THE NEW, HIP 60 MINUTES: They said it wouldn't happen. When changes were made at "60 Minutes" recently (creator and producer Don Hewitt is supposedly still in charge, but a younger producer is going to take over soon), we were promised that the show wouldn't change. So, tell me, why have the past two episodes included an

 

interview with Maxim multimillionaire Felix Dennis and a look at the porn industry? What's next? Makeovers with Morley Safer? Andy Rooney's ode to metrosexuality? Mike Wallace on Mary Carey… literally? If I wanted that crap I'd be watching Sunday night wrestling on Spike TV. C+ -- Bob Sassone

21 GRAMS: Where exactly did this project go wrong? I'd say from the very beginning, with a story that's so overwraught, so soap opera, improbable and cliché, not even director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's jangled storyline can disguise it. But he sure does try. The structure is fun to watch and figure out (the guy can direct, that's for sure -- he handles the actual accident perfectly) and, man, Naomi Watts, she's good, she's very good. But she (along with Penn and del Toro) are acting up a storm for naught; it's schtick in a vacuum. The whole movie is pitched just a little too high… [Spoiler alert.] It's not enough that Penn has Watts' late husband's heart; she has to get pregnant too. It's not enough that del Toro loses his faith in God; he actually has to burn off his tattoo. And why does Watts, all of a sudden, decide she wants to kill del Toro? Where did that come from? Everyone involved with this should have just slowed down for a second and realized that they were making an unbelievable melodrama where everyone's a slave to the plot. And if you can figure out what the hell that closing narration is about, please, tell me. All in all, a huge, huge disappointment. C -- Will Leitch

SCHILLER'S LIQUOR BAR: In my loftiest dreams, this evil outpost of the McNally empire is going down. While the sun has yet to set on the corner of Essex and Rivington, I seek comfort in the New York Times-sanctioned foreboding of looming clouds on its smoke-filled horizon. If I wanted to see a fleet of taxis disgorging bankers and lawyers intent on reaffirming their sense of upward mobility by smiling on the neighborhood of their immigrant ancestors, I'd tune in to "This is Your Life." Forget the liquor license controversy -- do we really want to expose the city's youth to competing carcinogens in the form of cell phones and cigarettes wielded alternately by Drew and Fabrizio wannabes as they while away their time in sidewalk purgatory in the hopes that a table opens up? And by the way "Tables for Two," I don't care if the waiters all have Ivy League degrees and a tableside manner to make a grandmother proud--if they're such prodigies, why aren't they splitting the atom or curtailing the national debt instead of serving Welsh rarebit to Harvey Weinstein? F- -- Rachel Natelson

THE PEOPLE AT MARLBORO: The good people of Marlboro sure are good friends with me. They sent me a nice birthday card this year and I'm pretty sure they didn't forget last year either... This year's card says "Live it up on your big day! And never let the dust settle!" Man, was that thoughtful or what? My dad didn't even send me a birthday card. It's nice to know they care enough about me to send a card. I guess they figure they can keep doing it every year as long as I'm still a smoker and as long as they keep reminding me to live it up, I won't let the dust settle and I'll buy a pack of tasty Marlboro smokes along the way. On the outside of the envelope it says "Please contact us if you would like to be removed from these mailings." What, are they crazy? Who *wouldn't* want to get a nice birthday card every year? A+ -- kowgurl

PEOPLE WHO DON'T CALL BACK: Okay. There are many different varieties of the "Not Calling Back" syndrome, the most excruciating involving the semi-boyfriend/girlfriend-who-I-am-trying-not-to-like-too-much-but-have-a-high-school-crush-on. Well, I for one am tired of experiencing the sweaty-palmed anticipation of finally gathering up the courage to call said person, politely leaving a message and waiting for, but never receiving the call back. What the hell? Arguably, it would be infinitely better for the receiver of the message to respond, even if it were only to tell you they never want to lay eyes on you again. Instead, you're left wondering if it was that remark you made about letting lesbians buy you drinks or the zit on your forehead that put them off. D -- Stephanie B.

GOOGLE NEWS ALERTS: Good Holy Fuck, I think the consensus of rock journalists is that Ryan Adams sounds a little bit like Paul Westerberg. A few weeks ago I signed up to be alerted whenever Google News came across the name Paul Westerberg, anticipating a flurry of reviews for his loose-limbed return to form Come Feel Me Tremble. Instead, critic after critic sent me a little coded message that said, in part, "Look at me I'm a total fucking hack". After maybe two days, my Westerberg alerts turned into Ryan Adams News Alerts because Adams released Rock and Roll, an album that his record company demanded he record after he turned into the moody Love is Hell. I wonder if Google could invent some magic search engine that filters out critics who still they think they are the one person in all of the high school who knows, and loves, the Replacements, Pixies, Husker Du, Sonic Youth, Minutemen or who still holds true to the belief that the kids who like any album released after 1990 are just poser jock assholes. Hey, I'm sorry Winona Ryder never slept with you and I'm sorry that Liz Phair totally turned into a cheerleader, but for the love of Johnny Thunders please broaden your frames of reference. C- -- Jeff Barnosky

WEBSENSE INTERNET FILTERING SOFTWARE: My company runs the Websense Internet filtering software on our system, ostensibly to prevent the valuable engineers from frittering away their valuable time on unproductive computer use. While I am prevented from accessing gambling, gaming, and porn sites, which is understandable, I am also blocked from random sites under the dubious category of "Society and Lifestyle." Apparently this category consists of a random selection e-zines (not including The Black Table, yet) and various other entertaining folderol. However, the effectiveness of this software is suspect. For example, I have no problem surfing for hours on Amazon, ESPN, and The Onion. On the whole, I would have to say that the software is a bust since it only manages to be a minor annoyance without actually making me more productive. On a final note, childsupermodels.com, which, as we all know, is NOT porn by any definition, is blocked as "Adult Content." D- -- Schuyler St. Lawrence

 

 
 

MORE.

CALL IN THE HELPER MONKEYS!

BIG UPS TO DIAMOND DIZZLE.

DO YOU BELIEVE THE HYPE?

DISHONOR ROLL.

SAY NO TO POLITICS.

SAILING THE HIGH C'S.

THINGS GET DOUBLE PLUS UNGOOD.

THE REDNECK REVOLUTION.

I BREAK FOR IRONY, THEN I BACK UP AND RUN IT OVER UNTIL IT'S DEAD.

INTRODUCING PUSH-TO-SUBMIT TECHNOLOGY.

MORE TO LIFE THAN FOOTBALL? THAT'S UNPOSSIBLE.

YOU TAKE THE GOOD AND TAKE THE BAD.

I FEEL PRETTY. AT LEAST I WANT TO.

A RANDOM REVIEW OF EVERYTHING, IN GRADE FORM.

 

*BT*