Virgil

Garfield — Garfield = Funny

When I was young, my brothers and I would use whiteout and ink to turn the comics pages into reworked narratives of surreal carnage and highbrow fart jokes. Since we were always adding data, it never occurred to us what would result from only taking data away. Consequently, we never thought of this beautifully simple approach : Garfield minus Garfield.

Click the picture to see an example.

With the fat cat gone, the strip becomes a bizarre existential wasteland, and much, much funnier. And a little sad, too, I guess, since after a while, it becomes clear that this is how conversations between lonely shut-ins and their cats actually sound.

I wonder how well a blank Garfield mug would sell.

Philip Fucking Seymour Fucking Hoffman

It's nearly Oscar time, and I will be having people over to watch, as I sometimes do, and there will likely be a betting pool, as sometimes happens, which my friend Dan from Bald & Effective will win, as he always does.

I'll make the same mistake I make every year, betting on the movies I think should win, instead of trying to put myself inside the mindspace of someone who lives and works in Hollywood; an impossible task for me, which is why I'm unable to understand why Philip Seymour Hoffman wasn't nominated for anything this year.

In 2007 he was in 3 movies: Before The Devil Knows You're Dead, Savages, and Charlie Wilson's War. I saw the first two, and, as usual, he was beyond extraordinary. The man immerses himself. He's a fucking bathyscaphe. Every role he plays, it's as if he was typecast. Not only the look, but the self-image; his ability to create fine and definite shadings of self-esteem and self-awareness is uncanny.

So why no awards?

It's not like he lacks for respect—he already won for Capote—but maybe it's just too much brilliance at once, like staring into the sun for too long. When I'm king (and that day is coming soon, my patient puppets), he shall have three Oscars per year, one for each name, for the remainder of his natural life, which shall be Methuselan, thanks to vitamin supplements and regular exercise.

And I, by the grace of God (and by royal decree), shall finally win the goddamn betting pool. I could just have my armies take the money, of course, but where's the sport in that?

UPDATE:
I just read in the newspaper that PSH was actually nominated for Best supporting Actor for Charlie Wilson's War. I still think he got robbed, but I must admit that this is an excellent example of why I never win the goddamn Oscar pool.

This is the (*&%^(v'est idea I've ever _)%$#)(*'ed

You know, there was a time when Sweden used to stand for something fine and pure: Abba, neutrality (or was that Switzerland?), Volvo, chocolate (was that Switzerland, too?), and meatballs. Big, sweaty, hairy meatballs.

But in recent years, I hear all sorts of discouraging things about the land of snow and smiles; for instance, that they have highest rate of alcoholism and suicide in the world, and that apparently their women do not all resemble Anita Ekberg (an early prototype for Scarlett Johanssen, but who didn't bother to act, realizing it would only be a distraction).

Things have changed so much and so quickly, that I really don't know what to think of this story, about a Swedish couple who have named their child "Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116" (pronounced "/ˈalˌbin/").

From the article:

"Because the parents (Elizabeth Hallin and an unidentified father) failed to register a name by the boy's fifth birthday, a district court in Halmstad, southern Sweden, fined the parents 5,000 kronor (US$682 at the time). Responding to the fine, the parents submitted the 43-character name in May 1996, claiming that it was "a pregnant, expressionistic development that we see as an artistic creation." The parents suggested the name be understood in the spirit of 'pataphysics. The court rejected the name and upheld the fine."

It's all very well and good to have fun with names, but why do it to a kid who didn't ask for this particular brand of fun, not to mention being born to a couple of ninnies? I've had enough difficulty getting people to spell my name with no "h".

The parents have offered to compromise by naming the child simply "A", but the court has rejected this, under the reasonable assumption that the child will be begging to be adopted sooner or later, so there's no need to be obvious about it.

The Yiddish Policeman Is Ordered To Form A Most Perfect Union

The weird and wonderful Coen Brothers are apparently going to write and direct Michael Chabon's weird and wonderful "Yiddish Policeman's Union." Scott Rudin will produce, who also has the movie rights to KAvalier and Klay, which he'd better not fuck up, either, or there will be trouble; not from me; I'm mild mannered; my alter ego, however, while not exactly a super villain, is super impatient with bad adaptations.
Speaking of adaptation, I saw Atonement the other day, and thought that it was stately, respectful and average.

Like Prince Charles.

Who I like more than I liked this movie. But that's because he's sort of clumsy and endearing, and into organics and preserving historical buildings, and loved a woman less beautiful than his wife, which is a new one.