I saw these guys at the 9:30 Club on the day after Thanksgiving. It's a decent show -- they're solid live performers.
Concertgoer Review: They Might Be Giants
It is scientifically impossible to LOOOOOVE ironic, nerdy rock songs, and also be the kind of person who "rocks out." The ten people in the crowd trying to do so were hilarious.
Also, a pretty common problem at the 9:30 Club is personal space -- there isn't much. Everyone is standing. I was with a few friends at the show, one of them a short girl (around 5 feet) and one of them a very tall guy (around 6 foot 6). We were trying to box out (within reason) and make sure my short friend had an OK view of the stage. However, middle-aged guy at the show by himself kept backing into short girl. We asked him to move forward a step, but he just kept creeping back into her, again and again and again. Not in a creepy perv way -- he just kept sliding backwards until he was a few inches from her, blocking her view. He had room in front of him, but he just kept backing up.
Very tall guy decided to make our point during one song, basically by freaking the guy's back. For about a minute, he was as close to dry humping as you can get in polite company. It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
Middle-aged guy did not budge. He didn't even look back once. Nothing in his body language indicated that he even felt a 6'6" man all up in his business.
Hoover Dam is near Las Vegas, on the Nevada-Arizona border. It is not a large casino with a water-management theme. You are thinking of The Venetian.
How Can I Get to Hoover Dam?
You can reach Hoover Dam by renting a convertible at Caesar's Palace, then driving there while listening to the pop hits of the 1980s on satellite radio. If there is another way to reach Hoover Dam, you don't want to know it.
Isn't it called Boulder Dam?
No. It is named after President Herbert Hoover, a former mining engineer who brokered the water-management deal among the many states that share the Colorado River. He resigned the presidency in 1931 to supervise construction of the dam, and on his death in 1933, his bones were dispersed into several batches of concrete being poured into the dam. Hoover's skull is encased in lead box embedded in the top of the dam, with one eye socket in Nevada and one in Arizona.
Howard P. Boulder owned a hot dog stand popular with dam workers. "Boulder dam" refers to constipation brought on by an all-hot-dog diet.
How big is Hoover Dam?
Hoover Dam is very, very big. Expressed in terms of athletic fields, it is ... one or two very big athletic fields thick at its base, and a couple of athletic fields high. The fields are for manly, dam-worthy sports, like Canadian Football or anything played under Australian rules.
Is it the biggest dam in the world?
It's the biggest dam in YOUR world. Assuming you've never been to China.
What are the two towers on the Lake Mead side of the dam?
The "intake towers," one in Nevada, one in Arizona, contain complex hyrdro-powered timing mechanisms that keep the official time for their respective states. Due to turbine failure in the Arizona tower in 1986, that state did not celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day until 2000, when the replacement part finally arrived.
What is Hoover Dam made of?
Hoover Dam is made of concrete, and Herbert Hoover.
What can I visit in Hoover Dam?
For $12, visitors to Hoover Dam can learn about the dam's construction through a series of exhibits and films in the visitor's center, as well as explore one working station inside the dam itself and the generating station at the base of the dam. For $25, visitors get a commemorative hardhat and probably get to visit the skull chamber and touch it for luck. For $50, and if they know the secret password, visitors can enter Beavers, the 24-hour exclusive VIP nightclub located in the center of the dam.
For $1, visitors can enjoy this bench:
How was Hoover Dam built?
Why do you have to ruin everything by asking so many questions? Can't you just enjoy the fact that it's a really big dam? Look, they blew some s**t up and poured a lot of concrete. What, do you think this information is going to help you chat up a girl at a party? Try moisturizing. It's a better use of your time.
How much did Hoover Dam cost?
And now with the money. All you seem to care about is cost and size. Why is it all surface with you? It's a very big, very expensive dam. In Great Depression figures, it cost $23.43. Happy?
I think I've written just about everything I want to write about Las Vegas at this point. So here are the last few photos, and then it's on to the future.
There are things to do, and then there are the things that you do only when guests are in town.
And somewhere beyond those things are things that guests wouldn't give a crap about and that you just do for yourself, because you are a dork. In the third category: Supreme Court oral arguments. I've lived about a mile from the Supreme Court for almost eight years now, and I had never set foot in the building, let alone watched the Supremes in action.
And by "action," I mean rocking back and forth in high-backed chairs and being jerks. It was cool. Here's how it breaks down:
6 a.m. -- wake up, shower, and put on something that the Supreme Court might find sexy. The odds of bumping into Ruth Bader Ginsburg in the hall aren't that good, but could you live with yourself if it happened and you were in sweats? Fun bonus activity: take a minute right now and imagine Ruth Bader Ginsburg dancing in front of a Camaro to the Styx song "Lady."
6:30 -- my friend and fellow dork for the day, Allyson, showed up at the house, and we headed over to Ye Olde Court Building, right across from the Capitol. Actually, it's not THAT old -- it's from the 20th century. Chief Justice William Taft convinced the federales to build the Court its own special digs, probably because the toilet seats in the Capitol couldn't support him. Dork trivia: as a president and Chief Justice, Taft headed two of the three branches of government. Which other president matched this accomplishment? The correct answer gets you the adoration of the masses.
7:00ish -- the morning session for oral arguments (M,T,W) starts at 10, and seating is limited on a first-come, first-served basis. You have to figure that the Supreme Court, the most powerful judicial body in the most powerful country in the history of the world, is on par with Hannah Montana. But neither Allyson nor I own reliable camping gear (tent, urine purifiers, etc.) so we just rolled the dice and got there around 7. We were 11th and 12th in line -- not the first people there, but the first people in line who had no actual reason to be there. (Everyone in front of us was a law or college student filling a class requirement.) Does this scientifically prove our coolness? Yes. Yes it does.
7:30 -- the cops on duty moved us from the sidewalk to the plaza in front of the building. They handed out numbered cards to everyone in the line. If you go, DO NOT LOSE YOUR CARD. Allyson at some point misplaced hers -- it probably fell out of her pocket and got blown away by the 30 mph wind gusts that morning (be sure to visit in December, it's the best time of year to stand outside). When she tried to explain this to the lady cop who had taken over at the front of the plaza, she instantly concluded thatAllyson was up to something diabolical. So instead of giving her a new #11 card, they gave her #57.
9:00 -- After careful consideration, we decided to get signed affadavits from numbers 10 and 13 vouching for Allyson. And if she was still denied entry, it was decided that we would rush the building Butch and Sundance style. In one last talk with the cops, however, a third cop informed us that the numbers mean nothing and that no one checks them as long as other people in line don't object. So on second thought, GO AHEAD AND LOSE YOUR CARD. It is a highly refined system they have going there.
9:30 -- they let us into the building. Once you're in, you are given the list of things not allowed in the courtroom: jackets, scarves, recording devices, cell phones, bad attitudes, high-top fades, 8 by 10 glossies of Supreme Court justices that you're hoping they'll sign, air horns, signs that say "What Would Scalia Do," beer helmets ... all visitors are given a standard-issue spandex singlet to wear. Then they are deloused and given an MRI scan. Once everyone's results are back ...
9:40 -- you can head into the courtroom. Ushers will seat you. In our case, standing for 150 minutes in the cold got us some choice seats on the side of the courtroom, in uncomfortable chairs, with a view of the bench partially obstructed by a pillar. The high school group behind us in line got to sit on cushioned pews with a great view. Again, the numbered card system is just great.
9:50 -- this is a good chance to take in the court chamber, which is really impressive. There's a carved floral pattern on the ceiling, huge red curtains, some marble friezes shwing great moments in law (Moses, the signing of the Prime Directive, highlights from "Demolition Man") and some great metalwork along the walls that is just covered with legal imagery: acorns, stone tablets, and for some reason a dolphin that appears to have a parrot's beak. If you understand that last one please let me know. This is also a good time to speculate about how the justices might enter. Me, Allyson and our line-standing buddies (#10 and #13) decided that the Chicago Bulls entrance would be the best. ("And now ... at 5'11" ... from Harvard Law School ...") We also talked about judge pickup lines. If you were in a bar wearing the robe, I think you could go with: "In a 1-0 decision, I rule that you are the sexiest girl in here."
9:55 -- right around now a security guy will remind you that if you make any noise, chew any gum, sneeze or disrupt the proceedings in any way, you will be beaten to death with a very large gavel.
10:00 -- Oyez oyez oyez, the games begin! Everyone stands and the judges come in to the theme song of "Night Court." They take care of some minor business up front: admitting people to the bar, and in our very special case, saying their very first hello to the new Attorney General of the United States, Michael Mukasey! They hazed him by putting him through the dreaded 9-justice spanking machine. It was great. Then, it's time for business ...
Sprint vs. Mendelson. A woman is laid off by Sprint and sues for age discrimination. To help make her case, she tries to use the testimony of various other Sprint employees who feel they're in the same boat -- though they don't have the same supervisor or work in the same office as her. Can their testimony be counted as evidence?
Who the hell knows. Whatever case you're watching, they're going to start going into legalese. So just watch the fun:
Every justice asked at least one question, except for Clarence Thomas. He doesn't sit there quietly, though. He rocks in his chair and goes through a series of facial expressions that make him look like he has the worst hangover in the world (champagne and kahlua). This is because Clarence Thomas is pouting.
The bench is elevated, and all of the justices' high-backed chairs can recline. When one of the shorter justices relines all the way, from the floor all you can see is their head peeking over the bench. It looks like you're being judged by a severed head.
The attorneys very seldom referred to the justices by name, except for Scalia, who was mentioned about ten times. I think this is because Ed Norton did this in "The People vs. Larry Flynt."
I don't know if he was flustered, but a lawyer referred to Roberts as Mister Chief Justice. Roberts should have insisted on the "Esquire," but he didn't.
Looking for fun and excitement? Then advocate before the Supreme Court! You have to know your case backward and forward, be able argue logically for or against any aspect of that case, and somehow keep your client's interests first. But wait, there's more! You probably won't get to lay out a coheret prepared argument for your point of view -- you're going to get interrupted every 30 seconds by one of nine people with lifetime job security, a microphone louder than yours and the word "Supreme" in their job title. Plus they have high-backed reclining chairs and robes. And by the way, you're on the clock -- you have a limited amount of time to operate. Furthermore, most justices have already made up their mind before oral arguments, so the only potential outcome other than escaping unscathed is for you to embarrass yourself on a national stage without actually changing any minds. Also, the whole time court pages beat you with ceremonial bamboo canes. No pressure, it's not like the entire legal world is watching! If you stumble or stutter, I'm sure you'll get plenty more chances to redeem yourself in front of the most powerful court in all the land! Yikes.
Scalia probably asked the most questions, and only seemed like a mild chump doing it -- he did let people answer, and he never really bit a lawyer's head off. Breyer came across like a total jerk.
Alito kept striking the hand-on-chin, "ain't he dreamy?" pose.
Guards forced one nearby audience member to swallow his gum and had to wake another guy who was dozing off.
11:00 -- once they wrap up, the justices go straight to the back, and everyone has to file out of the building pretty quickly (after turning in their singlet and retreiving their belongings). Then you can see a lot of the lawyers in the lobby afterwards. If you offer them a sip of your Coke, they will throw their necktie to you.
The whole process is for show -- the way the judges ask (or don't ask) questions, it's pretty clear they already know what they think. There are tons of written summaries of the various arguments put together well before the case every makes it to oral arguments. There are no surprise witnesses or emotional breakdowns. But it serves a purpose: getting me out of bed before 10 a.m. on a Monday.
And that's something.
Oh yeah ...
The trivia question was mildly fuzzy on the edges -- you can't really say there's a titular "head" of the legislative branch. But if you consider the Speaker of the House to be the highest-ranking legislator, then the answer is ...
James K. Polk, the only Speaker of the House to become President.
My show went well enough in DC that I'm taking it on the road ... the next performance of "I Take Requests" will be on Friday, January 25 at the Hamilton Arts Collective in Baltimore. Once again, we're gonna have trivia, music, video and stand-up all in one show ... mark your calendars and start spreading the word! You can see the HAC web site right here.
Challenge Accepted: Newton's Third Law
We'll have some variety in the show in January as well -- I hope to work in jokes from two new challenges. The first of the new topics is another one of those "up yours" suggestions, from Maegan Simpson of Washington, D.C.:
Newton's Third Law of Thermodynamics. Simply stated: For every action there's an equal and opposite reaction.
I'm going to try to knock this out before Christmas ... and after that, there are already some interesting challenges on the table from Richard Aldacushion of Washington. It's gonna get strange, people ...
The Chris White 2007 Tour of the Birthplaces of Presidents Who Were Former Apprentices is now over. We'll have the t-shirts availble for sale soon. Stop one: Summerhill, NY, the birthplace of Millard Fillmore. Stop two, Raleigh, NC, the birthplace of Andrew Johnson. Our tour motto: TASTE THE SQUALOR!
Sure, you can get the life story at the Johnson sites in Greeneville, Tenn. But it's nice to actually see the alleged place where it all began. Alleged because they don't keep great records for the dirt poor (and what records they do keep are often on the back of used pizza boxes), so they had to lean on oral histories to figure out in which structure the magic happened. It was the kitchen of an inn in downtown Raleigh -- the family worked downstairs (his mom a weaver, his dad taking care of the horses at the inn) and lived in a tiny loft upstairs. The loft is where Johnson came into the world on December 29, 1808.
The demand for inns with stables dropped off somewhat over the decades, so the (alleged) birthplace has been shuffled around a bit. The building is now sitting at Mordecai Historic Park, which is a lot like a zoo, but instead of animals they have historic North Carolina buildings. They're fed on a regular basis, and while attempts to breed the buildings have been largely unsuccessful, they do seem comfortable.
The building itself is underwhelming, but isn't that what America is all about? People of humble origins rising up to lead their fellow man? Assuming those people are white males, of course?
As for the original site of the building, it's now an alleyway two blocks from the State Capitol. There's a rock with a plaque in it. Dogs probably pee on the rock. Good stuff.
Mordecai Park
To see the Johnson house I had to take the full Mordecai Park tour, which was actually neat. My experience might have been unusual, though, because I was the first visitor for the day (at 1:30), the only visitor on my tour, and also probably the last visitor for the day. It was a dork VIP event. Thanks to tour guide Jeremy for an excellent job.
Highlights: the transplanted law office of two prominent Raleigh lawyers, one of whom was William Henry Harrison's secretary of the Navy. The guy left office when Harrison died. So he ran the Navy for a month. Whee.
Also, the actual Mordecai house is an old plantaion home, held for generations by a (suspected) mentally unstable family. One of the owners kept a harem of light-skinned slaves to pass around to his friends, and when they got to drinking, a pastime was tying a male slave to a tree and beating him.
HISTORY!
North Carolina Capitol
And what the hell, if you're downtown, go see the Capitol. It hasn't been the actual capitol building since 1961, but it's free, and it has statues, and it's cute. In the middle of the rotunda they have an Italian statue of George Washington dressed like a Roman and writing his inaugural address in Italian. It's profoundly creepy and they're very proud of it.
The best story: the orignial building burned to the ground in 1831. The fire was accidentally started by construction workers ... trying to fireproof the building. Heh. Heh. Heh.
I took a spin through the North Carolina Museum of Art on Saturday, because I like art, and because it's free. Thank you, taxpaying citizens of North Carolina.
It's like a mini-National Gallery, with a lot of small collections hitting a bunch of major periods and styles. Two things in particular popped out at me. First off, this Gandolfi painting of Hermes about to off Argus (the original is probably about 10-12 feet tall). It's actually a two-painting series; the first one is Hermes putting Argus to sleep by playing his flute; then there's Hermes getting ready to drop the hammer (and by drop the hammer I mean behead with a sword). What's cool is that Hermes is gesturing to the viewer to keep quiet, so as not to wake up Argus. This cries out for a third painting in which Hermes looks very angrily at the viewer as a wide-awake Argus chokes him to death, but I guess you gotta stick to the story.
Beyond the obvious appeal (a hot-looking and potentially naked babe checking you out) there's just something about this picture that grabs you.
Plus it fits perfectly on my Theory of Being a Big Time Art Photographer: if you want to get noticed, get a bunch of your friends to hang out a vacation house and take pictures of them in various states of undress. I go to see photo exhibits pretty often, and I've seen this from three different photographers in the last year. Take the pics, airbrush a few things to make your friends look good, and then sit back and watch critics talk about your remarkable ability to capture the twin ethos of sensual hope and morbid nihilism inherent in the nameless youths of your work. Really, all you did was get drunk and take pictures of your freeloading loser friends, but the checks should clear no matter the reality of the situation.
Anyhow, my EOS Rebel still works pretty good, and I can probably afford a week in Nags Head. So heads up, close personal friends: Start working out.
One of the funniest things they ever did on Weekend Update was Tim Meadows as Ike Turner.
The world needs more Tim Meadows.
What's Happenin' Brother?
My comedy calendar for the year has finally shut down, so now I can enjoy a few relaxing weeks of worrying about my finances and thinking that I'm generally a failure in life.
Also, I will eat a lot of cookies.
Some good news today, though! I've been having problems with my esophagus for a week or so. It's kind of like acid reflux symptoms, but without the acid. Basically, some solid food is staying in my throat for hours after I eat, waiting to get into the suddenly exclusive club that is my stomach. Every now and then, some of the food says, "forget this! Let's go have a drink somewhere else!" And then it promptly attempts to leave through my mouth.
I don't feel sick, but it's kind of annoying to taste the pickle I had for lunch 10-12 times over the course of an afternoon. And that's coming from someone who loves pickles.
Anyhow, I went to the doctor today, and they told me that next week they're going to shove a camera down my pie-hole. If there is any justice in the world, I will get a copy of that video. Then I will set it to music and post it on YouTube.
Over the weekend was the big family Xmas party. The rules for adults: Nothing
over $50, all gifts are wrapped. Everyone puts their name in a hat. The first name
drawn opens a gift and picks the next name. The next name gets the option of
stealing a previously opened gift or taking a new one from the pile. If someone has
a gift stolen, they then must choose an unopened gift. Every time someone unwraps a
new gift, they choose the next name.
It makes for a fun hour of gift-opening, provided 80 percent of the gifts aren't
some combination of scratch-off lotto tickets and a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream.
But it's not the only way to spice up your holiday party!
Santa Scramble: All participants are randomly assigned a gift value ranging from
$10 to $1,000. At the start of the party, all presents are placed, unwrapped, in the
center of a large room with no furniture, but various yard tools and blunt objects
lining the walls. At any point during the party, the host sounds an air-horn,
signaling the start of a 5 minute period in which all partygoers must attempt to
grab a gift or gifts. At the end of the 5 minutes, the air-horn sounds again, and
any presents in the possession of a partygoer at that time belong to the partygoer.
Snowman Soiree: Only couples with deeply troubled relationships are invited to
the party. Gifts are $50-$100, one gift per couple, and all gifts are wrapped. All
women put their names in a hat. When a name is drawn, the woman selects and unwraps
a gift; their man then must choose to either give the gift to another woman or
immediately smash it with a 10-pound double-faced sledge hammer.
Naughty Elf Exchange: Most partygoers are told that a "Secret Santa" setup is in effect with a $40-$60 range, but every man shopping for a woman is told that there is an "erotic" theme to the exchange and a $5-$15 range. No one else is informed of this arrangement.
Jingle Bell Rock: The host purchases a number of luxury items, minimum cost $500 each. Each guest is presented with a gift, and if they choose to accept the risk, a coin is flipped. Heads, they get the gift; tails, the host keeps the gift, and then is allowed to kick the guest in the genitals.
I do some part-time journalism work when I'm in D.C., and one of the fun parts of that work is writing headlines. When you have a maximum of about ten words, it's hard to convey a story's content, make it sound interesting AND slip in a joke -- it's a challenge, and it's fun to see what the editors will deem within the realm of taste. At the NY Post they have pretty loose standards, as you can tell. Think "Headless Body Found in Topless Bar."
Of course, in journalism as in life, nothing is as funny as the mistakes ... you hear stories passed from city to city about embarrassing blunders. My favorite one (if it's not true it should be):
The circus was coming to Kansas City, and so the KC Star wrote an article about it. The layout editor left room for a photo, but since the circus wasn't in town yet, the photographers didn't have anything fresh. With deadline approaching, someone decided to grab a file photo of a clown to fill the space.
The Phillies signed Geoff Jenkins to replace Aaron Rowand -- not in center field, mind you. Jenkins is a corner outfielder. Instead, he replaces Rowand on the more important List of Phillies Players Who Look Like They Live or Spend a Lot of Time in Trailer Parks.
Admittedly, Jenkins' chin isn't as weak as Rowand's. But the facial hair is there, and he's a much better bargain. Also, have you ever seen Brett Favre and Geoff Jenkins in the same place? HAVE YOU? Odd that they both have played in Wisconsin for so long ... if Jenkins constantly tries to throw runners out at first from right field when Ryan Howard isn't even looking, then I'm going to the national media with this.
And as if that weren't enough, the Phightins then go out and pick up pitcher Chad Durbin. He has a career 5.75 ERA, sure. But he also has ... A BLANK STARE AND A GOATEE!
World Champions 2008. It's gonna happen.
American Pie Presents Beta House
Do you get the feeling that Eugene Levy has made some bad investments, or maybe has a gambling problem?
Someone is buying or renting these movies, and I want to know who. If you or a friend own any of the American Pie straight-to-DVD films, please e-mail chris@dcstandup.com. We're getting to the bottom of this.
Now this, on the other hand, was a pretty good flick. Not as great as advance reviews, but sweet and well-made. A high-school girl gets pregnant, decides to have the kid and give it up for adoption, leading to an ... awkward relationship with the hopeful adoptive parents. I'm not sure that there's a message, and I don't think it's anywhere near a realistic depiction of teen pregnancy, in that the girl involved is composed enough to banter like she's in a 1940s detective movie. But as entertainment it definitely works. If you don't mind indie-style dialog, I'd call it highly recommended. And if you like this, go rent "Hard Candy." Ellen Page: Yikes.
The most interesting thing in the marketing of this movie is the screewriter, who goes by the (fake) name of Diablo Cody. If you haven't already seen some version of the official story (appearing in newspapers everywhere), it's this: simple Midwestern girl in her late 20s. Worked as a stripper for a year and wrote a book about it. Also had a blog. A Hollywood-type person looking for porn stumbled across the blog, decides to represent her, and her very first screenplay gets produced, virtually unchanged from her original final draft.
The entertainment industry does this every few years to keep the pipeline full of people who will think, "hey, that could happen to me!" Read anything from veteran screewriters (who don't happen to direct their own scripts) and you know that things get mercilessly mauled and reshaped for all kinds of ridiculous reasons -- movies are a collaborative effort and usually about 80 percent of the collaborators are a) idiots or b) people with no interest in or knowledge of your artistic vision.
So a bunch of people will read the Diablo Cody story and think, "I have a blog! And I always wanted to write a movie!" They will set off on the long and paiful road to Hollywood, getting battered and broken along the way as their scripts go unproduced or are horribly mangled. And then, when someone calls saying, "we need you to write the next Alien vs. Predator movie, and it must have the line 'Get to the chopper,' " then they will be broken enough to sigh and pick up a pen.
Birthday? Boy!
It's my birthday! I'm 31. Unless you are in showbusiness, in which case I'm 25 but can play 15. Come on, "Friday Night Lights." You know you need a freshman special teams guy to juice the ratings once the strike ends. I'll do my own stunts.
I think 30 was a good year:
I was on television, for a good reason.
I saw Las Vegas for the first time. The city, not the TV show.
I saw Space Camp, or at least the gift shop attached to it.
I visited 17 different sites related to the U.S. Presidents.
The Phillies made the playoffs.
You can't ask for much more than that. Well, I suppose I could ask for fame, critical recognition, money and a new car. But after seeing Space Camp, I think I maxed out my credit limit with the gods.
I think the celebration this year is going to involve bowling. It also might involve visiting the grave of fellow Dec. 28er Woodrow Wilson, and then pouring some of my 40 on the ground out of respect. And then getting forcibly removed from the National Cathedral. I'll keep you posted.
Get ready, because you only have about 380 more days to get used to saying "President Dennis Kucinich."
THE MAGIC WILL HAPPEN!
But for now, it's goodbye to 2007. It was a good year. Great things happened, mistakes were made, lessons were learned, and things are definitely looking up as I rapidly approach my lifelong goal of winning a gold medal at the Olympics. My original plan was to learn archery in time to qualify for Beijing, but for my birthday, I received as a present a one-day fencing class. Since it still involves puncturing things, I'm moving ahead, epee in hand.
Please check back next weekend for the inevitable story of how I was stabbed in the face at fencing class.
Movie Review: I Am Legend
If you're going to the trouble of closing chunks of Manhattan to film, if you're shooting a scene by the Brooklyn Bridge that requires 1,000 extras, if you're using the top movie star in the world ...
CAN'T YOU SPRING FOR SOME DECENT LOOKING ZOMBIES? They probably made ALL of "28 Days Later" with a smaller budget than the catering bill for "I Am Legend," and "28 Days Later" has much, much better Zombies.
And by "zombies" of course I mean "rage virus victims." The rage virus is the hot new thing, from "I Am Legend" (which is actually a 30-year-old story) to "Serenity" to the 28 series. But we all know who did it best:
But regardless, I liked this movie. You're either going to love what Will Smith does here or laugh uncontrollably. Three years in Manhattan is enough to make anyone crazy, and imagine if you had to do it all by yourself. Sure, the traffic and urine smells would go away, but no Naked Cowboy? The horror. I think we'd all start to lose it, and he walks that line fairly well.
For the record, if I was alone in Manhattan, I'd live in the M&M store in Times Square. Zombies be damned.
Legal Stuff: If you have questions about this Web site, why? You should spend your time questioning the moral nature of any god who would let Chris White exist. But anyhow ... copyright 2009, Chris White Sucks Inc.
No. It is named after President Herbert Hoover, a former mining engineer who brokered the water-management deal among the many states that share the Colorado River. He resigned the presidency in 1931 to supervise construction of the dam, and on his death in 1933, his bones were dispersed into several batches of concrete being poured into the dam. Hoover's skull is encased in lead box embedded in the top of the dam, with one eye socket in Nevada and one in Arizona.
What are the two towers on the Lake Mead side of the dam?
6 a.m. -- wake up, shower, and put on something that the Supreme Court might find sexy. The odds of bumping into Ruth Bader Ginsburg in the hall aren't that good, but could you live with yourself if it happened and you were in sweats? Fun bonus activity: take a minute right now and imagine Ruth Bader Ginsburg dancing in front of a Camaro to the Styx song "Lady."
My show went well enough in DC that I'm taking it on the road ... the next performance of "I Take Requests" will be on Friday, January 25 at the Hamilton Arts Collective in Baltimore. Once again, we're gonna have trivia, music, video and stand-up all in one show ... mark your calendars and start spreading the word! You can see the 
I took a spin through the North Carolina Museum of Art on Saturday, because I like art, and because it's free. Thank you, taxpaying citizens of North Carolina.
Admittedly, Jenkins' chin isn't as weak as Rowand's. But the facial hair is there, and he's a much better bargain. Also, have you ever seen Brett Favre and Geoff Jenkins in the same place? HAVE YOU? Odd that they both have played in Wisconsin for so long ... if Jenkins constantly tries to throw runners out at first from right field when Ryan Howard isn't even looking, then I'm going to the national media with this.
August 2009: Jefferson.
Fall 2009: comic interviews on the podcast. 
