Alastair: If there’s one thing the superficial persona I invented for the sake of this introduction can’t stand, it’s ambiguous lyrics. When I’m getting down to the doof doof doof doof music us young people totally dig, I want the song’s meaning to be unmistakably obvious.
Piece of Me by Britney Spears, on the other hand, is a piece riddled with riddles. With odd self-depreciating lines like “Oh my god, that Britney’s shameless” and seemingly unrelated references to the paparazzi, it’s impossible to tell where she’s going without some sort of in-depth, line-by-line analysis. And so with the moral support (of the writing-several-passages-outright variety) of Chad McCanna and Andrey Summers, I put together exactly that.
Sensitive readers are advised that the following article contains graphic images of the spiky-haired guy from Good Charlotte.
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Andrey: Here at whatchickenlist.gov, we are all about the environment. By this I am, of course, suggesting only that at any given moment we are in or near the environment, but I like to think that makes us an authority on the matter. Certainly as much of an authority as an arguably un-elected Presidential Candidate who at one time had no beard, then grew a beard, and then just shaved it off again.
If Al Gore can’t even decide what his own face looks like, how can he reliably perform plastic surgery on the face of our planet? This question is implicitly asked and tacitly answered by our own Alastair Robert Craig in a feature that he did not title The Unofficial Spice Girls Reunion Scrapbook. To find out what he really titled it, you’ll just have to Admit You’re A Spice Girls Fan. Just kidding. You can also Click Here.
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Casino Royale is not a James Bond film. It has a character in it named “James” (which is a fairly common name) and his last name happens to be “Bond”, which I suppose is some coincidence, but that’s pretty-much where the similarity ends. This bold new reboot of the Bond mythos has foregone campy humor, funky gadgets and delicious innuendo in favor of a brooding, bloody-fisted spy with a fractured psyche. In this manner, Casino Royale has taken the admirable step away from self-parody and toward direct thievery of the Jason Bourne franchise.
But fear not. Apparently this is what the public wants. At no time was I more attuned to this blood-curdling fact than when Harry Knowles, Demon Emperor of Ain’t It Cool News got a whiff of the Variety story (AICN shuns the term Variety, preferring to instead refer to the trade paper as “one of our top LA operatives”) claiming Eddie Murphy was going to attempt raping a dead horse and do another Beverly Hills Cop movie.
Knowles, a beacon (I accidentally typed ‘bacon’ at first) in the tundra of “geek culture” responded to this news with the following fucked up shit:
“After watching Eddie’s performance in DREAMGIRLS – I can say, without hesitation that this could be a brilliant career move. Make Foley a badass, burnt out – possibly retired – having to face down one last investigation… Making the action hurt, making Murphy foul again. And don’t bring back Serge. Kill Billy in the opening sequence and start from there.”
Is there any comprehension up there of what the Beverly Hills Cop series is actually supposed to be about? I’m beginning to suspect that if people like this had their way, every cop, secret agent, and social worker character in every franchise would inevitably turn into Max Payne. In lieu of the imminence of such a dystopian hell, I have crafted what one might call a forecast. A grim warning of things to come, if we don’t take action and place improvised explosives on the rails used by the Hollywood supply-trains. In other words…
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