If you can't give up Bush-bashing for me and your other long-legged ponies, would you consider doing it for your male fans?

No?

Oh, Jim. Jim. You're breaking my heart.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 02:56 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I still don't understand why the first three Queen albums never got much airplay back in the day: Mercury, May, Taylor, and Deacon never really got a lot of traction until Night at the Opera came out, but even prior to that "Killer Queen" (from the album Sheer Heart Attack) got some attention, and after they got big some DJs went back and played "Keep Yourself Alive" (from the first album, Queen).

But Queen II, which fell right between those two albums? I've never heard anything from it over the air, and it's good. "White Queen," "March of the Black Queen," "The Loser in the End," "The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke." Even the version of "The Seven Seas of Rhye" on this album is terrific.

Undiscovered gold, here.

BTW, you engineering-types probably already know this, but Brian May and his father constructed the guitar he played as part of Queen in their garage, when he was young. It's one-of-a-kind, and of course a major engineering feat, given the tolerances involved in a project of that kind.

The first six or seven Queen albums all bore the legend "no synthesizers," or "no synths" on their covers; if you listen to those records, it's amazing what the boys were able to achieve without using synthesizers, and a lot of that has to do with Brian May's supernatural abilities as a guitarist.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:30 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Rush Limbaugh loved Ben Stein's Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed. David Linden won't be happy—or surprised.

And, yes: I have at least two more posts pending about Expelled, on (1) why I think one can allow for some role of divine inspiration or guidance in the origins of life (and our particular species)—and still have this speculation be referred to as "science" [quite a touchy subject, but one I intend to tackle] and (2) some of the amazing interviews Stein, Craft, and Ruloff conducted for this movie. And, possibly, (3) the very cool computer graphics that went into the animated-cell sequence, which is in-and-of-itself worth the price of admission.

(Wait. How come my husband can get a meeting with Ben Stein, and Rush Limbaugh can get a meeting with Ben Stein, but I'm stuck interviewing Stein's producers? Oh . . . wait. That's pretty good, actually. Never mind.)

By the way, I just got the script I had Ben Stein's autograph on framed. Stein wasn't surprised when Attila the Hub asked him for an autograph for the wife. He was, however, surprised that it wasn't because of his film or television work, but rather his writing in The American Spectator that led me to request same. The note, on an episode of Freakazoid!* that Stein did voice work for, reads "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" (I kept the entire script together for the framing.)

The downside: I am now "out" to my framing place. I've been working with the same people for ten years, but I might have to switch, now that they've seen something that alludes to TAS . . . In a pinch, of course, I could resort to some reasonable standard of courage. Always a last resort, for me.

* If you're a Freakazoid! fan, consider monitoring Jaime Wienman's site.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 04:53 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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. . . except that I'm trying to put together the playlist for The Ultimate Highway CD:

Do we like the NSFW Ted Nugent clip?

Or do you think Old Faithful is a better idea?

Countin' on you guys.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 09:08 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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Tom Waits, or Leonard Cohen?

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[Yeah; I know I've already used that headline for posts related to the Harry Potter franchise. But I like it. Reduce, reuse, recycle. Think how this reduces my carbon footprint . . .]

Warner Brothers will be splitting the final installment of the Harry Potter book into two halves, which means that mathematicians may be displeased by the final result: the seven-book series will yield an eight-film series.

It could be that they should have been splitting all the books after the first one, which would mean that there would be a total of 15 movies, and that a lot less meat would have been hacked off the last few.

Yeah, I'm joking. Sort of. I know that the filmmakers try to err on the side of pleasing me! me! me! (all of us, really) rather than catering to the muggles, but there's always a cut (or three) that upsets me.

And, of course, I realize that those kids they cast are growing up too quickly. But couldn't they have given them drugs or something, to stunt their growth?

I'm just trying to think outside the box, here.

The movie version of The Half-Blood Prince is due out this fall. I don't usually read up before another movie comes out, but I'm considering ripping through the entire series one more time sometime soon, in preparation for (only) my second reading of Deathly Hallows. That one was so structurally different from the others that it absolutely should be chopped into two movies. It was a tough nut to crack, and I knew it would be. I generally try to read a murder mystery—or a Potter book—all the way through in one sitting. But those MFs are so long.

Finally, there I was in San Diego, at Siggraph, reading Hallows at the Holiday Inn two freeway stops away from downtown. What a great book. What an amazing fucking book. I had to somewhat reduce my partying at the convention, but it was for a good cause.

This year—Calloo, Callay!—Siggraph is in Los Angeles again. Which means that unless I get a windfall that allows me to crash downtown for a few nights, I'll be commuting from home (probably a condo in Glendale, by then). If I do have a few extra bucks, and I can stay downtown for a night or two, I shall definitely be taking some primo reading material. And I'm not talking about the fuckin' internet.

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Agent Bedhead says hi, and gets down with her celebrity-blogging. Hey—at least she's not ripping Madonna for being ripped.

She's just pointing out that the M.G. might be having a fling, and that the age differences involved are significant. Personally, I've always felt that 10-15 years was sort of the outside edge on that age-difference dealio, but what the hell do I know?

BTW, whatever happened to Dustin Hoffman? He used to be so sexy. Now he's, ya know . . . distinguished. I saw him once, when I was working at the Westside Twin Theatres. He came in and borrowed a pencil, which my boyfriend at the time saved for me. I've since lost track of it, of course.

My friend Kate Sanford worked with Hoffman on American Buffalo, and has also edited Sex and the City, with "Ol' Butterpecs," Sarah Jessica Parker. I rather think Katie might have kissed Sean Penn back in the 1980s, since I've been informed that my "Madonna number" is . . . um, one or two. Around there. (One of her jobs on At Close Range was, she told me at the time, "keeping reporters away from Sean Penn.")

Maybe that's why I defend Madonna. Maybe I wish that number were zero. In any event, I happen to think she's still hot, muscles and all. Apparently, I'm not the only one, despite Ragnar at Rusty's site deciding she's looks like Gollum. (Was that before, or after G's transformation? Just curious. And I'd still like to see a picture of Ragnar, since he's so discriminating. He must be Santa Fe-hot.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:29 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
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1 Perhaps he (Ragnar) meant golem. "In Jewish folklore, a golem (גולם, sometimes, as in Yiddish, pronounced goilem) is an animated being created entirely from inanimate matter. In modern Hebrew the word golem literally means "cocoon", but can also mean "fool", "silly", or even "stupid". The name appears to derive from the word gelem (גלם , which means "raw material"...The word golem is used in the Bible to refer to an embryonic or incomplete substance: Psalm 139:16 uses the word גלמי, meaning my unshaped form. The Mishnah uses the term for an uncultivated person ("Seven characteristics are in an uncultivated person, and seven in a learned one", Pirkei Avot 5:7). Similarly, golems are often used today in metaphor either as brainless lunks or as entities serving man under controlled conditions but hostile to him in others. Similarly, it is a Yiddish slang insult for someone who is clumsy or slow." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golem

Posted by: Darrell at March 11, 2008 12:04 PM (JW+3p)

2 Personally, I've always felt that 10-15 years was sort of the outside edge on that age-difference dealio, but what the hell do I know? A handy rule of thumb is the half plus seven rule. If you are dating someone younger than yourself, divide your own age in two then add seven years. If your date is younger than the result of this simple equation you are a perv. And also likely wealthy, in extraordinary shape or have an dark wave/industrial act in local goth clubs.

Posted by: Flea at March 11, 2008 01:47 PM (o6uVS)

3 Madonna is hot. The only real problem that I have with her has nothing to do with looks...but more in forgetting where she came from. Rabbi Stanley Boteach said it well: "[F]or many years Madonna vulgarized our culture, exposed her body to America's teenagers and generally portrayed women in a highly degrading light. But after she became a mom, she moved to England, essentially complaining that America was too decrepit a culture to raise kids. That's a bit unfair. When it was our kids, she didn't mind corrupting them. But when it was hers, she fled to a safer environment."

Posted by: agent bedhead at March 11, 2008 01:47 PM (YwUEf)

4 I'm a bit of a noob about Madonna Numbers. Does it involved having sex or merely being acquainted?

Posted by: John at March 11, 2008 02:56 PM (glNKY)

5 Or potential STDs?

Posted by: Darrell at March 11, 2008 03:28 PM (WYcE7)

6 Madonna Numbers... "Degree of sexual separation" If one kissed, say, someone who kissed Sean Penn, that would be "one" because Mr. Penn "did the deed" with the M-Girl. They would also have a cast-iron stomach, ie, a high threshold for nausea, due to that proximity to Penn.

Posted by: Darrell at March 11, 2008 03:37 PM (WYcE7)

7 Hey! I'll have you know that I went to high school with Sean Penn . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at March 11, 2008 03:49 PM (hr1i5)

8 You mean you could have spared us all and you did nothing? I mean, if he was in a small boat, like he was when he was "saving" all those folks in New Orleans after Katrina, the one where the boat took on water and he and his tweaker friends were trying to bail it out with a red Solo 16 oz plastic cup, couldn't you have cut the bottom from the Solo cup? And wouldn't they have drowned before they figured it out?

Posted by: Darrell at March 11, 2008 07:03 PM (H79FJ)

9 Careful Darrell. You're going to get yourself lumped in with the rest of us Meanies here pretty quick. Sean Penn is a Person! We need to respect him as such, despite who he's kissed.

Posted by: Desert Cat at March 11, 2008 07:16 PM (DIr0W)

10 I believe that would be "whom."

Posted by: Attila Girl at March 11, 2008 07:21 PM (hr1i5)

11 Kissing Madonna isn't his problem. Whatever he kissed on the Left is. Or sucked. Unlike Heidi Fleiss, I can't know for sure. I want Sean to live in peaceful anonymity so much, you wouldn't believe it. And silent anonymity as well.

Posted by: Darrell at March 11, 2008 07:27 PM (H79FJ)

12 Well, I'll grant you that there is an epidemic of loud-mouth disease among the H-wood/music industry crowd. I like what Brad Pitt said some years ago when he was asked about politics: "What are you asking me for? I'm a grown man who wears makeup."

Posted by: Attila Girl at March 11, 2008 07:39 PM (hr1i5)

13 If music and the arts are the counter-culture, how come they're not right leaning now? Or for the past fifty years.

Posted by: Darrell at March 11, 2008 07:48 PM (H79FJ)

14 That, my friend, is the $64,000 question.

Posted by: Attila Girl at March 11, 2008 09:52 PM (hr1i5)

15 Well, Attila, have you heard of the chickenhawk argument? It seems to be that you're using a modified form of it here. "Ooh, all guys who are soooo derogatory towards gals MUST be hunks and beefcake themselves". Um. No. I am reasonably good looking (and would be devastatingly handsome like my brother if I was his weight instead of about 75% heavier) but it won't matter if I was pug ugly. I can claim someone else to be pug ugly. Is Madonna hot? I don't know. I sure won't want to hit *that*, though. By Heaven, how many people have gone through it already?

Posted by: Gregory at March 11, 2008 10:34 PM (cjwF0)

16 Now, Gregory. Don't be silly. 1) The fallacy in the chickenhawk argument rests on the fact that in this country, civilian control of the military is the rule. We do not have governing juntas. The sexual marketplace, however, is . . . a market. Men, being visual creatures, have higher physical standards than women, who are either a) a whores, according to the most embittered of your brothers, or b) focused on things like brains, accomplishment, wisdom, etc., and not so damned superficial. Or: c) both. Women live with the double-standard out there (e.g., it's okay to have a paunch if you're male, but not if you're female), so long as they don't cross the "invisible line," and reiterate one too many times that they benefit from a physical-appeal double standard that would be impossible if we were as . . . visual as they. 2) As far as Madonna is concerned: a) the girl can afford the very best medical care, so I'm sure she's clean; b) I only said I wanted to make out with her, rather than go full-on, and c) you would sooooo hit it, if you had the chance. Don't lie to yourself.

Posted by: Attila Girl at March 11, 2008 10:49 PM (hr1i5)

17 No lie dear. Seriously. I don't begrudge you your fantasy, but I'd flee like the wind.

Posted by: Desert Cat at March 12, 2008 07:07 AM (B2X7i)

18 But, DC--that wasn't directed at you. You're extraordinarily "evolved," as they say. And you have discriminating tastes, I happen to know.

Posted by: Attila Girl at March 12, 2008 01:41 PM (hr1i5)

19 Hmm. Methinks Attila Girl has been over-imbibing on Valurite over at Ace's. Hey, leave some for me! 1. The fallacy of the chickenhawk is no more and no less than saying that someone *must* have gone through or was somehow involved in the same or similar experience before commenting on any situation/circumstance. Which is palpable nonsense. Unmarried virgin that I am, I should be able to make value judgements on both sex and marriage (I am all for both). Thin guys heap scorn on fatsos like me allatime. Hence, you were using a modified form of it. And anyways, while I'm cool with model-type bodies and all, a little bit of Bridget Jones Rubenesque body-style goes a long way, you know? I'm not saying I want the woman to weigh anywhere near what I do (we'd squish/squash each other), but certainly a certain... Victorian voluptuousness is more my type. Curves, flesh, and a little jiggle of fat in the right places... mmm.... donuts... 2. Well, if I gave my baser desires free reign, then yes, I'd hit her. I'd hit *you*, and I don't even know what you look like. I'd also hit Kim Devine, Patricia Araujo, Meghan Chevalier... look. Man's heart is a cesspool. Nothing clean emanates from a man; there is no one who is sinless, excepting Jesus. The reason we do not all degenerate is because we rein in our base desires, and adhere to certain standards. And by those standards, I wouldn't touch Madonna with a ten-foot pole. Not least amongst the reasons because she's married (at least, I think she's married, and doesn't one of your posts make that point also). But also, because of the way she acted in the past. And, she looks terrible from my perspective. Not sure I'd go as far as Gollum, though, even if the thought makes me giggle. Yes, giggle. I'm comfortable with my chosen sexuality. And manhood, for that matter.

Posted by: Gregory at March 13, 2008 08:27 PM (cjwF0)

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We're having a small private screening tomorrow of Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed.

It's going to be a bit on the early side--3:00 p.m. We had several cancellations, so any bloggers or other New Media types who want to get onto the guest list should let me know immediately.

Thanks.

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Supposedly Viriginia Woolf's Orlando was "the longest and most charming love letter in history" (according to Nigel Nicholson, son of the woman who served as a model for the book's protagonist, Vita Sackville-West). It's still the longest, but I'm no longer sure it's the most charming, now that the Sarah Silverman/Jimmy Kimmel videos exist.

Sarah started out strong:

But I have to give this one to Jimmy:

And Ben himself deserves special mention; he must have balls of steel. Wow.

Via Ace, who watches TV so I don't have to.

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"Mature? I'm not mature! I'm derelict!"

Yeah; I've been listening to some of the tracks from Psychoderelict. Love that album.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:32 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So, several of us went to a screening of the "Director's Cut" of Ben Stein's Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed last night, which takes on the scientific establishment regarding the way any discussion of "intelligent design" (evolution that is guided—and was potentially initially ignited—by some Creator) is being systematically excised from academic debate.

The movie isn't about what a great theory Intelligent Design is, or whether it's simply Creationism in hipper clothing, sporting a nose ring and a leather jacket. The movie is about freedom of speech within Academia, and how important it is to put ideas on the table, and debate their merits, rather than oversimplifying them and then dismissing them out of hand.

It's difficult to predict how good the final product will be: damned good, I suspect. But at present the film is way too long, and some of the historical parallels and cultural allusions are certain to be lost in a way that will drastically re-shape the movie before it is released. This is an excellent work, but the incomplete editing made some parts a bit draggy. I know that problem will be fixed; I'm simply not certain how it will be done, or what various judgement calls will be made.

I have a deal with Concerned Women for America's J. Matt Barber to write a full essay regarding the arguments Stein makes in the film, in exchange for getting his SoCon, Christian-right reading of my favorite book by my favorite athiest, a bitchin' defense of free speech by Jonathan Rauch (Kindly Inquisitors, in case I haven't pimped it lately).

But Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is compelling because it (1) strikes a blow against intellectual totalitarianism, and (2) features the droll, egghead teddy bear Stein running around in a suit, tie, and tennis shoes, talking to people about academic freedom, the connection between Darwinism in its purest form and (a) eugenics, (b) National Socialism, and (c) the unsavory side of the [essential for women's rights, as I see it] birth-control movement.

Please keep in mind that when the movie is released, opening weekend will make it or break it, so clear your calendar once the date has been set (sometime this spring) and make it important.

Also, Ben Stein—like his "cousin" Mark Steyn—is a total stud/god, and a true renaissance man. I also consider him, because of his column "Ben Stein's Diary" in The American Spectator, to be the first true blogger—a New Media pioneer.

I have his autograph, by the way. He was taping an episode of some show my husband was producing, and I begged the spouse to grab an autograph from him. Stein was prepared to be a good sport about this, but when he discovered that I wanted his autograph because of his writing for TAS rather than his work on Ferris Bueller's Day Off or The Wonder Years, he was visibly thrilled. The autograph, written on the first page of a script for an animated show, says "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" over his signature. It's actually one of my most prized possessions.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:26 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I said, "no, no, no."

Yet, here I am, courtesy of my loyal—and generous—readers.

Apologies, natch, to Amy Winehouse. (Warning: the music starts on her [linked] homepage without being asked to; let the web surfer beware!)

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. . . got the commentary recorded yesterday. More details on the session—which included Paul Rugg (the voice of Freakazoid), Tom Ruegger (the executive producer), and John P. McCann (the voice of Douglas Douglas, Dexter's father)—here.

Interesting tidbits: the character Cosgrove isn't just drawn to look like Ed Asner: it actually is Ed Asner. And the guy who looks and sounds like Ricardo Montalban really is him. Ditto Jonathan Harris, from Lost in Space.

Too bad the show was so short-lived: I always thought there was an anti-Freakazoid insurgency going somewhere in Warner Brothers at the time, and that's why the show started to get scheduled at odd times, began to lose resources, and was eventually killed.

So, you know: that time, "the terrorists won."

And then the WB network people moved in. And AOL took over. And soon enough, quality animation shows at Warner Brothers were a thing of the past. But if Paul, Tom, John and the rest of 'em from the 1990s—those who worked on the funny shows like Tiny Toons, Animaniacs, and Freakazoid!, as well as the serious ones like Batman Beyond—were to put all their Emmies into one room, they'd need a specially reinforced building just to hold 'em all.

And someday, another animation house will decide it wants to start making kick-ass television shows again. And these are the people they'll want to call: the veterans of the "golden age." (N.B.: not out-of-work sitcom writers. Animation writers. People who know the form.)

UPDATE: Post edited to reflect the fact that there was, indeed, a final episode. I should have remembered that: it cost Warner Brothers a fortune to use "We'll Meet Again."

And, you know—I guess they did meet again. Yesterday. Though I kind of wish they'd gotten paid for it.

See you later; I'm going out for a mint.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 07:02 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Make me of clay, make me of steel,

But whatever you do don't try and make me real.

Make me your dream, a secretive deal,

But don't ever scheme to try and make me real.

Stop trying to make me real;
I haven't got the kind of heart a lover can steal.
Stop crying, I just can't feel
Any sympathy for someone trying to make me real.

Make me of shit in a two-teenier deal;
Make me of pornography—a pedophile wheel
Whatever I do, whatever I feel,
By your double standard I will never be real.

Stop trying to make me real;
I haven't got the kind of heart a lover can steal.
Stop crying, I just can't feel
Any sympathy for someone trying to make me real.

Why can't you settle for a fantasy?
You're so convinced that I'm the man to see.
I can't live up to
What you give up to
I fail to see the perfect man in me.

Make me from your magazine a listed ideal;
Dress me in the doll's house your knickers conceal.
Make me your brother-lover beau-ideal,
But you will soon discover lover can't be real.

Stop trying to make me real;
I haven't got the kind of heart a lover can steal.
Stop crying, I just can't feel
Any sympathy for someone trying to make me real.

Pete Townshend, Darrell, my husband, Sean Connery. It's really quite a short list.

And here's Jane Bond, from "I Made Love to a Communist":

Personally, however, I prefer Cubans. They seem so—well—experienced.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:43 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Here's an interesting little think piece by Ace on Stallone's reasoning for not having Rambo take on Bin Laden in the latest Rambo movie. It would be, Stallone tells us, "insulting" to the real-world heroes who are out there hunting UBL down.

Yup. And yet Ace is skeptical about whether Stallone could have used that subject matter even if he'd wanted to.

I know that one of the issues Jason Apuzzo of Libertas (and The Liberty Film Festival) has had with Hollywood is its reluctance to use Islamist terrorists as real villains in feature movies. And I personally would like to see it done—but it has to be done with some delicacy. Not, as Ace puts it, made into a "comic book" based on a real (and contemporary) struggle.

The fact that Bruce Willis hasn't been able to get a movie made based on Michael Yon's writing about Deuce Four is tremendously frustrating to me, because that is a real story—there would be no question of whether it was respectful to do it. It would be an homage. But the problem may have to do with Willis looking to traditional fundraising sources. Had Mel Gibson waited around for that sort of money, Passion of the Christ might never have been made.

The film industry has issues, and its willingness to throw huge amounts of money down the drain on anti-war propaganda that people don't want to see—and forego a fortune from making movies that people might want to—is pretty illustrative of its political neuroses. But. So what? There is a market out there, and we all know it. All that's necessary is to get the talent and the financing into the same room at the same time, and to come up with creative distribution channels.

The bottom line? We need more independent filmmakers. Truly independent filmmakers, who are willing to secure alternate financing for their work, have it shown at center-right/libertarian film festivals, and rely on DVD sales to create the necessary buzz. In the final analysis, movie theaters will let films be shown that are going to bring money in. We need a parallel structure to the existing Hollywood machine.

And we need it now. This is, as a famous lady once put it, "no time to go wobbly."

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:40 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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. . . from Brian May:

Oh, rock of ages, do not crumble, love is breathing still;

Oh, lady moon, shine down—a little people magic, if you will.

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. . . is to start watching more television this year.

Expecially the stuff on the History Channel, but also—gasp!—network shows.

I've got it figured out how I can get back into the habit of seeing Boston Legal. But what else do people like? What's worth watching—or was until the writer's strike upset the applecart?

Posted by: Attila Girl at 04:16 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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. . . on the Led Zepp reunion. Or, maybe, "reunion." (Can we call it Led Zeppelin without John Bonham? What about calling The Who The Who without Keith? What about calling the Dead The Dead without Jerry? What about calling Jethro Tull Jethro Tull without Ian Anderson? Oops; just kidding.)

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Blackjack isn't too sympathetic to the cause of writers who are on strike:

Don't go on strike if the managment can easily replace you and the public really doesn't give a damn. The networks will simply pump out shows like Who Wants to Hump a Hooters Waitress and you'll watch them, because that kind of stuff amuses you.

What, you are taking umbrage at my comment? That Tila Tequila show is a hit, for crying out loud. Why should the studios listen to writers bitch about DVD royalties when the viewing public will watch a Vietnamese skank whose most notable achievement was adding a shitload of friends to her Myspace page?

I'd advise the writers to get back to work if they can before our entertainment devolves even further. Moore's law has nothing on the speed of that.

Can good television and film writers be replaced "easily"? Yes, and no: No, because it's hard to find good writers. Yes, because the average studio executive, while having a sort of ratlike cunning, possesses the eye for quality of a piece of plankton.

If more executives were looking for quality, the market would change for writers in Los Angeles, and getting a good property optioned/made wouldn't be so much like winning the mother-fucking lottery.

Instead of seeking quality and originality, studios look for what's made money in the past (The Harry Potter franchise; The Passion of the Christ) and make something that reminds them as much of that as possible, but without any pro-religion or pro-Democracy messages that may have crept into the prototype (The Golden Compass). If the film industry were all about the market, why would it be losing money like crazy on a boatload of anti-war, anti-American crap? Particularly when even Bruce Willis can't gain support for a movie about American successes in Iraq, based on the writing of Michael Yon?

And now the idiots in the studios would like writers to bend over and grab their ankles so they can get fucked in the ass just as hard on the internet as they have with DVD/VHS distribution. And reality show/animation writers can continue to get locked out of the Guild—which they'd like to be in, and which would like to have them.

Let me break it to you, kids: the cost of producing movies will continue to go down. The public will continue to seek its entertainment (verbal, visual, and audio) on the internet. Truly independent filmmakers will be able to market their work in better ways.

And in the long term, my friends, those of you who act as gatekeepers for television and film content are going to lose. Because the walls and and the gates are coming down.

As Deborah Harry would say: Bye-bye, Sugar—and not a moment too soon.

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Part of me is digging it. Part of me is all, "what were we thinking?"

I didn't see a date on this performance, but IIRC those red hats came in around Album #3, though this song is album #1. So I suspect this same concert featured a performance of "Whip It."

(I could be wrong. I was wrong once before, but it was a long time ago, and I don't like to talk about it much.)

Thanks to resident drummer Hog Beatty, who forwards it along with the observation that, "yeah, it's fast."

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