The last week of our lives, described by Hammer song titles:

Tuesday: "Break 'Em Off Somethin' Proper" (Chinese dinner … love those fortune cookies!)

Wednesday: "You're Being Served" (sigh … another summons)

Thursday: "Pumps and a Bump" (shoe shopping with Mom!)

Friday: "Teabag Intro" (date night!)

Saturday: "She's Soft and Wet" (time to bathe the dog)

Sunday: "Shouts" (Tears for Fears concert)

Monday: "Goin' Up Yonder" (Visit with Grandma)

We've got 10 reviews. We always like to have more. We are ravenous that way. Fill in the box to the right, and more we all shall have, and we will not even have to share, they are all yours, yours, gloriously yours.

-- BT

The Black Table needs your help! Every week, we need reviews of the latest media-related crud, new products from Capitalists and odd idea, concept or trend. All you need to have is a sharp opinion that you can distill down to one paragraph of 150 words and give a letter grade. To submit, please fill out the form below. Entries may edited for length, style and clarity. Hit us with your best shot. Fire away.

BILL CLINTON'S IMPENDING RETURN TO DOMINANCE: Don't lie: You have missed him. Even if you can't stand him, you've missed him. While the world has been going to shit over the past three years, Clinton has been hunkered down in Chappaqua, N.Y., finishing his memoirs and preparing for his reemergence. Well, the book is finally done, and now it's time. You're not going to be able to hide from Clinton in the next month; he's going to be everywhere. And you're going to love it. Anybody else wish we could, just once, see Clinton and Bush debate each other? There'd be nothing left of Dubya but some 20-year-old cocaine residue and a pair of spurs. With John Kerry boring us to sleep and Michael Moore -- however good his intentions -- pounding the pavement with the intellectual honesty of Stephen Glass, someone needs to step in, start clearing house and cracking some skulls. And now here he is. Bill Clinton. He might not save the day, he might not be a saint … but you won't be able to take your eyes off him. In a dull campaign season -- it remains astounding how an election as important as this one can remain so dull -- Clinton is a lightning bolt, shock treatment. Tell us Monica anecdotes! Chuckle about pinning "Dork" stickers on Kenneth Starr's back! Give us something! It's T-minus a week until it's all Bill, all the time, and I, for one, cannot freaking wait. A -- Will Leitch

TAKING THE KIDS TO TIMES SQUARE AT 2 A.M. ON SATURDAY NIGHT: The four of you were standing there, on the

corner of 42nd Street -- wearing matching white tennis shorts, holding hands, enjoying the summer air -- when we scarred you all for life. I'm sure you noticed us. We were the ones in the 20-foot long Escalade limo, rolling by with smoke billowing out of the windows, Slayer's "Angel of Death" blaring from the speakers and a 6-foot-4, 350-pound man stuffed in the sunroof, waving to you all. We were having a good time; it was a bachelor party, after all. But what the fuck were you doing out with little kids at that hour? This is why I felt no remorse after seeing Little Johnny piss himself and then cry after catching a full view of "Nasty Nurses" playing on the DVD through the window of our limo. Vacationing parents, you have some explaining to do. D- -- Eric Gillin

NON-STOP REAGAN BULLSHIT: Look, CNN … I don't honestly expect real news from you. I don't even begin to think that the garbage you feed me every day with 'Breaking News' is relevant to anything. But when all seven news channels on my cable are showing the same goddamn feed of the top of the Gipper's coffin, I just want to snap. I may not care how Scott Peterson did in his trial. Pseudo-editorials talking about how Bush may or may not have made that head-dude from that one government thing step down don't sate my appetite for anything other than a cheap laugh. But other than my cellphone and computer monitor, how the hell am I supposed to get my daily dose of mind-numbing radiation? Just bury the guy already and get on with it. Please. Family Feud is on. C- -- Will Higgins

SPORTS ANNOUNCERS WHO CALL THE WRONG SPORT: Let's get one thing clear up front. I hate the Los Angeles Lakers. Kobe Bryant should be leading the Colorado State Penal league in scoring, rebounding and avoiding the after-game shower room. If this were 100 years ago, PT Barnum would be recruiting Shaq for his next cross-country jaunt. Thanks to this disdain for the Lakers, I decided to skip the NBA Finals this year … until I happened to flip past Game 1 and see the Detroit Pistons up during the fourth quarter. I stopped and noticed a familiar, but odd-sounding, voice calling the play-by-play. Yes, it was Al Michaels of Monday Night Football. This could work, I though, until Michaels started comparing everything to football. Is there such a shortage of bona fide basketball men that ABC had to dip into the football ranks? Was Marv Albert busy biting women's backsides? All I'm going to say, ABC, is that if I turn on Green Bay at Carolina on September 13 and Dick Vitale is saying that Farve is "Awesome, Ba-by!", all hell is going to break loose. D- -- Earl Heffintrayer

TROY AS BELATED METAPHOR: At first I was mystified -- I opened the paper to check out right-wing lugnut and Bush apologist Debra Saunders' column one fine morning, and the subject du jour was ... Troy. The movie. With all that's going on in the world of politics, this is what she picks as a subject? I read her quite often, just for the laughs, and it's always about politics, and always about how the left is ruining the country. I didn't think those fangs were retractable. Now suddenly … a movie review? What's next, recipes? She went on to write that Troy was a good movie, but not a great one, and you could probably skip it. Then I saw the movie, and it all became clear. For those unfamiliar with the story, King Agamemnon, ruler of the world's largest superpower, wants to invade Troy in order to secure power in the Middle East -- but he needs an excuse to go to war. He gets it when Paris, a Trojan prince, runs off with Helen, the wife of Agamemnon's brother. Drumming up patriotic fervor in his homeland and forming a shaky alliance with his allies, Agamemnon sails for Troy. The war is on, with both sides certain of victory because God is on their side. Do you see where we're going with this? The parallels are clear, and so Saunders had to jump in, lest we connect the dots. Too late, Debbie. Homer beat you to the story by about 2,500 years. A -- Rick Chandler

THE SELF-PLEASURING NEIGHBOR'S JERKING OFF NOISE FROM DOWNSTAIRS: The same miserable asshole who bangs his ceiling every time my kids drop toys on the floor is the very same asshole I crisply overhear giving himself powerful orgasms several times a week. That's hypocrisy. But am I not just as much of an asshole if I bang the floor to accompany his melodious cover of "NNGGHHOHL! HUNNGG! UNGGGHH!"? Perhaps I feel sorry for him because I know he's mournfully shafting his own fist down there. Perhaps I'm just a pussy for not marring his ejaculation celebration by acknowledging that I hear him. Whatever my problem is, I wish the fucker would bury his face in a pillow every now and then. D -- Mike Dougherty

METALLICA: SOME KIND OF MONSTER: In 2001, bass player Jason Newsted quit Metallica. The band's management company, Q-Prime, feared an Ultimate Band Breakdown and called in the big guns. A performance coach … a therapist … whatever you want to call him. While this is going on, documentarians Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky are shooting a promotional "making of" Metallica's new record. But when the band starts to crumble on camera, the narrative skews into a candid exploration of collaborative and creative efforts called "Some Kind of Monster." As the therapy sessions continue on screen, you discover it's a wonder Metallica has lasted this long. When James Hetfield complains of being left out of decision-making because of his time-constrictive "recovery schedule," guitarist Kirk Hammett says, "I've felt that way for 14 years." Snap! Each member's bad side comes out - Lars Ulrich is all ego, Hetfield is a control freak and Hammett's a doormat. But with the help of some touchy-feely group therapy, Metallica learns to work together again, releasing a platinum record, "St. Anger," and hiring a new bass player in the process. Metallica doesn't do much for me, musically, but I was hoping for satisfying schadenfreude from watching a bunch of zillionaires-cum-whiney-bitches. "Some Kind of Monster" delivers all that and goes further, and might just nudge out "Gimme Shelter" atop the rock doc canon. A -- Aileen Gallagher

HAVING YOUR NEMESIS AT WORK FIRED OUT OF THE BLUE: I've dealt with this prick in my life for five years, often enough to drive me crazy and get me almost fired a couple of times. He was an insane control freak and a passive-aggressive drama queen, treated like a prima donna. The thing he coveted all along was total creative control over the entire project. He finally got it. What did he do? He turned into a nightmare of indecision, hostility, creepy sanctimonious pomposity, and a refusal to bother with even the simplest niceties. His insane obsession with doing everything himself because of his loathing of everyone around him finally cost him. He almost fired me on about three occasions because he would never tell me or anyone else what he wanted and blamed them for not reading his fucking mind. I just assumed he would get away with this behavior forever. I also assumed he was universally respected. The day he got fired, there were about three distraught people. The rest just shrugged with indifference. Every day I pass his empty cubicle, and my heart sings with a secret and happy joy. Inside my soul is flipping him the bird. Sometimes life is good. Oh, so sweet to see you gone, you shit. A -- X

GROWING QUIRKY FACIAL HAIR FOR YOUR COLLEGE REUNION: Initially, it seemed like a good idea. When the college reunion comes around, show up with a quirky facial hairstyle. It'll be your way of reminding people that you haven't really changed since those schoolboy days of yore, that you're still the same crazy guy at heart. Then you show up at the reunion picnic with your carefully selected "fu manchu" (as seen on San Diego Padres pitcher Rod Beck and selected members of Black Oak Arkansas) and instead remind people that you haven't really changed since those schoolboy days of yore. You're still the same guy who hooked up, like, twice during your four years there. D+ -- Dan Dunford

PREDICTABLE CURIOSITY ABOUT MY ALL-GIRLS SCHOOL EXPERIENCE: What is it about all-girls schools that make men ask the stupidest questions? "Did you guys have naked pillow fights?" Other classics: "Did you run around in your panties?" No. "Did you guys teach each other how to kiss?" No. "Were you really horny all the time?" No. "Did you guys, like, bleed together?" That's just disgusting. Hate to burst your bubble gentlemen, but we didn't ride each other like ponies, nor did we "study Latin" together. We were flat-chested teenage girls with hormonal swings that could knock the head off of an iron statue. Even if we did bathe each other or practice our expert massage techniques with copious amounts of edible body oil … like I would really tell you. Keep those questions coming and I'll keep my eyes rolling. C -- Crosby Brooke

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