Tag Archives: sad things

Leaked Paramount Memo Shows That All the Movies Coming Out Will Be Bad [Internal Memos]

The story: A Paramount exec sent an email to a coworker, it was intercepted by Sharon Waxman’s Nikke Finke voodoo doll The Wrap, and now everyone has it. Basically it lays out their upcoming slate of movies, and it’s bleak. More

The Deadliest Catch Shows Us What a Televised Death Looks Like [Sad Things]

We knew all season that we would eventually see Capt. Phil Harris die on The Deadliest Catch . Last night America watched the stroke that eventually killed him. It was sad and strange and awful and tasteful. It was death reality-TV-style. More

American Idol: One Is the Loneliest Number [Recaps]

Last night we saw our Top 11 sing various songs from the catalog of Billboard Number One hits. A pretty vast array to choose from, and yet we heard, basically, all the standard karaoke numbers we’ve grown grimly accustomed to. “Heard It Through the Grapevine.” Someone sang that last night. In 2010. On the ninth season of American Idol . You know what someone else sang? “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.” Yes, the Aerosmith animal crackers song. That never-sung chestnut. Terrific choices, guys. Really sensational work. There was a moment last night that, I think, pretty deftly summed up this whole trundling disaster of a season. Simon was giving criticism to Didi Bikini and he said “You seem to have taken the spot of…” and then he trailed off and turned to Kara and said “What was the name of that girl we sent home last week?” Ha. Lacey. It was Lacey, Simon. Isn’t that so telling? Simon does not give two flaming shits about anything, he has no idea what’s going on, he doesn’t remember anyone’s name, he’s given up, the season is basically over for him. What’s your name again? What’s her name? This is stupid. The Good Boomerslacks made everyone boom in their slacks last night. She’s good. She’s just good. She sang “Me & Bobby McGee” (amazingly it was the first time that song has ever been performed on the show) and was her usual guitar-strumming self. Is her stuff starting to get rather unremarkable in its sameness? Yes. But she promised that she’s really going to change it up for next week if she’s still on the show (could she be voted off???) so that’s something to look forward to. Watch her bust out a beatbox and do a Justin Bieber tune. What is next week’s theme? I don’t know how to look that information up. I hope it’s Teen Idol week. I hope it’s Broadway week. I hope it’s fucking Everyone Goes Home and Gives Up the Ghost week. Was anyone else good? Siobhan Magnus, Daughter of the Four Winds, did a pretty decent “Superstition” (what an original choice!!!) that people seemed to enjoy. Though you can see a crutch beginning to form under her armpit and it is made of shrieks. All that girl likes to do is shriek. “Sibohan honey, time for dinner.” “Okayyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyeah!” There’s shattered glassware everywhere in that house, littering the carpets. “I don’t know why I keep buying these crystal champagne flutes…” her mother mutters, the Cape Cod sea breeze and seagulls hovering outside. It’s because they’re always on sale at the Christmas Tree Shop in Hyannis, Ms. Magnus. You just love a bargain, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Call me crazy but I do not mind Didi Believeme. I think that she might could be one’a them dark horses they got over there. She might sneak up on ya! Or she might wither and fade and disappear in a few weeks. That seems more likely. But for now I kinda like her. And by “like” I mostly mean “don’t completely hate with the passion of a thousand suicidal Claymates.” The Bad Is the “Everyone else” joke tired and used up? It probably is, yes. But it just applies so often! Big Mike sang a really hip song with a new, fresh sound that no one’s ever heard called “When a Man Loves a Woman.” Crayzay, right? I’m trying to think about how they will advertise Big Mike’s inevitable easy jams album. “Hey, you there! Judging by all the Foxwoods memorabilia and collectible Christmas tree ornaments you’ve got in the house, I’m guessing you like good music. Well turn off that ‘Best of the Orlando Airport Hilton Elevator’ CD and pop in some Big Mike.” He’s the cheesiest bastard on the planet. I can’t stand him. Katie Stevens sang that utterly stupid Fergie (does anyone like Fergie? who likes Fergie? who are Fergie’s fans?) about a child missing their blanket. Oh robot Katie Stevens. When she went to talk to guest mentor Miley Cyrus (more on her in a bit) she was all stiff and smooth and did not react in any way. She is a seventeen year old girl meeting Miley Cyrus! Shouldn’t that be a big deal? Nope, not for the Stevensbot. She just treated it like she was one celebrity meeting another celebrity, this a natural course of life. Mind you, I’m happy any time someone meets Miley Cyrus and visibly doesn’t give a fuck, but with Katie it wasn’t about proving anything to Miley. It was just that she is convinced that she is something she is not: A Star. Katie Stevens is not a star, will never be a star. Not gonna happen. No. Watching her singing “I’m a big girl now” was so chilling and weird and dumb. Yes, a big girl. 17 years old and the world is figured out. Feh. I hope she goes home. Andrew Garcia can suck it. Honestly. That guy is just such a waste. Simon’s comments to him about how maybe they went a little too apeshit over one good performance, months ago, was so cruel but brutally on point. They handed you the keys to the castle Andrew and you just dropped ’em in the moat. Ah well. Phil Dweezy is just… I’m so glad they let your cousin into the competition. He’d had a tough year. You know he lost the job at the packing company in Bethlehem, and then Jackie moved out in October. Your uncle Jeff thought he might be able to get him a job out in Palmerton, but that fell through, so he kinda just sat around for a few months. Oh and the Sable finally broke down for good. It’s just been a tough time. But now he’s on this show and he’s singing his bar songs and, you know, he seems real happy. Your aunt Karen called your mom the other day and was saying that she hasn’t seen Phil this happy since he made the baseball team in high school. (He was only on it for one season, ’cause over the winter he got that job at the Brew Works downtown and was eating all that bad stuff off the menu and he got a little husky, and then spring came around and he was just too lazy to lose the weight, so he didn’t play again and just sulked a lot for the rest of school, playing his guitar and listening to a lot of Incubus.) Phil Dweezy. Your cousin. The Boys in the Band Do you remember when Aaron Tyler, the sad spiky-haired kid from your physics class, said he had “just a little crush” on Miley Cyrus? That was sort of awful. Not just because Miley Cyrus looks like what a stink beetle looks like when it’s grossed out, but because Aaron Tyler is… Aaron Tyler says something on a widely-watched American TV show because, whether prodded from within or without, he feels like that’s something he needs to say. Because she is Teen Girl and he is Teen Boy and that is the most special attraction on the planet. The only attraction. Every attraction beyond that is just an attempt to go back, a yearning for that quick and difficult and wonderful place. Or so the grander American narrative that incorporates Idol would have us believe. And so we have Aaron Kelly giggling with that malnourished soda-and-chips face of his and you just sort of sigh and wonder if everything’s hollow, if anything big is ever really honest. So I didn’t like that part, because it made me depressed. And his song was just stupid. I mean, stupid like a fox. “Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing”? Yes, of course. That is his wheelhouse. That wheelhouse was built around him. But, ugh. And then there was Tim Urban, singing “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” like he was some lackadaisical, knowing pop sensation. “Oh here’s a little ditty I’m gonna just slur out, but it won’t matter because I’m me and everything I touch is just gold, man.” Kara DioGuardi, a clock right twice a day, said that she didn’t like how Tim was grabbing for the goils’ hands because he hasn’t earned that, and I thought that was terrific. With that and Simon’s comment to Andrew, this might have been one of the more on-point, meta rounds of criticism we’ve had in a long while. Good job, guys! (Ellen, as usual, just said nice things and smiled.) But yeah, Tim is a doofus, but he does elicit the hoot-shrieks from the churning loins of the Teen Girl (so very important, remember!) fanbase, so perhaps he will stick around. The Stink Beetle Why is Miley Cyrus mentoring anyone on anything? I know that’s such an obvious gripe, but c’mon. Watching her talk to Boomerslacks was terrific. Crystal was not havin’ that shit. And rightfully so. The only person who seemed “excited” to meet her was Aaron Tyler, and he just did it because he’s pretending to be into girls (oops, I said it). She just kept muttering dumb things she’d heard on the show before, trying to pass it off as original. She actually said “pitchy” at one point. Eugh. She did give Andrew Garcia the sage advice of getting rid of the the guitar, which was clever. But then he totally biffed it and she ended up looking like a fool. I mean she is a fool. There is nothing remotely appealing about her. She’s not a good singer, she’s an unbelievably grating actress, nothing about her personality seems genuine, and her father is a high priest in a sex church that he invented in his barn one night that involves the worshiping of yams. Her popularity defies logic. And yet. Get Outta Here One hopes that everyone will be eliminated. Ryan will line them up and offer them cigarettes. Then he will take out his Tommy gun and mow them all down. Paige tumbling to the floor in a toneless heap. Casey Johnson, who could have a second career as an ace Huey Lewis impersonator, flopping into a dumb, blonde pile on the shining linoleum. Aaron Tyler’s crushing heart flittering up to Christian Heaven, finally safe and unburdened. Big Mike, big and gone. There they will all lie, save for Crystal and Siobhan. Crystal will shoulder her guitar and say “Well, I guess that’s my cue…” and she will disappear out the backstage door, framed for a second in the doorway and then disappearing into light. Siobhan will regard the rest strangely, head tilted, eyes wide and whirring. She will consider laying her hands on them and using her Forces to bring them back, to watch them sputter and cough and blink and wonder where those lost minutes went. She will look to Ryan and he will be holding out the Idol crown. “It’s yours, if you want it.” And she will stare and stare and stare and stare. She will not know what to do. And then the show will end. If that doesn’t happen, I think it’s Paige’s night.

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American Idol: One Is the Loneliest Number [Recaps]

You People Really Want to Be the Next Will & Grace, Apparently

Last week we posted a casting notice for a real-life Will & Grace reality show, even though we didn’t think that any gay readers or their straight-girl besties would actually want to be on such a program. We were wrong. Since putting the post up, which called any potential cast members “sad, dateless codependents,” we’ve received a raft of emails begging us for more info about how to get on this wonderful-sounding reality program. See, we didn’t put up the casting company’s info because we were positive that no one — surely none of our savvy readers! — would actually want to subject themselves to programs about gay minstrels and the lonely sadgirls that own them. But people are clamoring for the details! People who describe their friendships like this: When we are out on the town on the prowl for men, hands down, it is the funniest form of entertainment. We think we are mega babes, but somehow we both wind up meeting the worst kinds of men (i.e. Hipster boys, grotty old farts, or Talented Mr. Ripley types). We run into ex boyfriends, we spill drinks, we are the real life PAGE SIX. Every time we go out we play a game we made up: “Are you gay or straight?” because most of the guys that approach us are ambiguous and hit on both of us. You can’t write or make this stuff up! We often think God is playing a big, fat, joke on us. As much as we enjoy being single, there are times we both want to meet Mr. Right, or at least find someone to cuddle with us on cold winter nights. Lord knows, we’ve given it the old college try with one another! Haha! Shudder, right? The person who sent us that one works on Ugly Betty , naturally. Potential candidates also had this to say about themselves: We have two cats, share many interests, and are basically like brother and sister/codependent single gals. We bet you have two cats! Oh you gals . Other Fag/Hag units sent us pictures of themselves being fabulous on rooftops in fabulous clothes and doing other fabulous things, and provided us with links to blogs about fashion that they write that are mostly just pictures of themselves on the subway wearing wacky clothes. They are not messing around with this casting call thing. So, OK. Here you are, kids. Here is the info. Please contact- Chad Patterson at ratpack7772@gmail.com Doron Ofir Casting There it is. Good luck! Please let us know if any of you make it.

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You People Really Want to Be the Next Will & Grace, Apparently

The Only Thing Worse Than Valentine’s Day Is People Who Hate Valentine’s Day

Of all of capitalism’s high holidays, Valentine’s Day is definitely the worst, with its corporate-sponsored emphasis on love, couples, snuggling, and other disgusting things. The only thing worse? The people who empower it with emphatic hatred. That’s right, all you singleton’s and “black hearts” are just as responsible for the continuation of this wretched festival as all the happy couples cooing into each others’ earlobes after too many expensive oysters and too much cheap champagne. Sure, Valentine’s Day was created to sell candy, flowers, romantic dinners at overpriced restaurants, and frilly panties from Victoria Secret that will be forgotten about as soon as they are flung off an expectant toe into the dark corners of a bedroom. To get all English major-y for a second, it is a despicable propagation of the hetero-normative monogamy fallacy that plagues the world, telling everyone that they have a “soul mate” and one special person to complete them and anyone who isn’t in such a relationship is a worthless piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to be loved and probably dresses bad and needs more time in the gym. However, the reaction to these sentiments is just as knee-jerk and trite. Hating Valentine’s Day is a sad fucking cliche. On the outside its says, “I hate the corporate structure that built this shitty holiday” and “I’m doing fine on my own, thank you,” but what it says on the inside is, “I am so sick of not having the validation of someone in my life that I need to rebel against this thing or I am going to wither away like a dried toe nail clipping in the garbage.” These people think that they are going to do something to change the couple-centric world that we live in, but all that they’re doing is giving credence to it. It’s like scowling at the concept but sneaking handfuls of chalky conversation hearts while all their fellow black-wearers go to change The Smiths record. Just like every year, alternative Valentine’s Day options abound. Jonathan Ames is hosting an anti-romantic poetry reading in Brooklyn and The Village Pourhouse will try to set up single men and women at their black heart’s party. There are plenty of events for those without a mate to attend and weep with each other and talk about how disgusting and lonely they all are while bashing their seemingly happier counterparts. Still, we hate you just as much as those making kissy-face and gurgling about how much they love each other. Instead of getting their non-frilly panties all in a wad, maybe it’s time for the haters to just leave this whole mess to those who want to call 1-800-Flowers, order up a chocolate souffle for two, and give each other their thrice-annual dose of oral sex (along with both birthdays). What’s so wrong about expressing the love one has for his partner? It’s rare and wonderful to find someone to share one’s life with, and surviving the daily silent tug of war of a relationship shouldn’t go by unnoticed. The protesters don’t want it to end entirely either, because you know that the first single girl at the “Heartbreaker’s Club” dance party is going to be the one who wants the biggest bouquet once she finally has a man. For those of us who aren’t in a relationship, why don’t we take the night off? Let’s give it up to all those unlucky enough to have their egos eroded by the will of another in the search for romantic fulfillment. There’s no need for hatred, spite, or resistance. Just take a deep breath and relinquish the day with quiet superiority and calm abandonment—and masturbate yourself into a chafey coma. [ Image via A Heart a Day ]

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The Only Thing Worse Than Valentine’s Day Is People Who Hate Valentine’s Day

The New Limelight Shopping Mall Makes Former Club Kids Weep

In case you didn’t hear, developers are turning ’80s and ’90s Chelsea superclub Limelight into a shopping mall during the worst economic downturn in recent history. There will be brownies and a sneaker gallery! It’s even worse than we imagined

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The New Limelight Shopping Mall Makes Former Club Kids Weep

Joe Jackson Sells Out His Grandkids for Reality TV Fame

A&E purchased the reality show The Jacksons: A Family Dynasty which will feature appearances by the late Michael Jackson ‘s three kids, Prince, Paris, and Blanket.

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Joe Jackson Sells Out His Grandkids for Reality TV Fame

Gourmet’s Empty Cubicles Mark the End of an Era

Yesterday, Gourmet was one of four mags the wounded publishing giant closed for good . Today it is just an empty shell full of boxes and crushed dreams

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Gourmet’s Empty Cubicles Mark the End of an Era