...Because I'm lying here watching Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (I needed something to nap to, what can I say? It was either this or Soapdish), and I just have to say that I completely disagree with the portrait of Isildur that Cate Blanchett paints with her sepulchral narrative. I think it's an insult to Isildur-Americans all over Middle Earth.
Because I read the books a few years back (I needed something to nap to then, too), and my impression was that, at the very least, Isildur deserved the benefit of the doubt for having been seriously contemplative of the question of what to do with the Ring after It came to him. He was deeply conflicted about choice - and the subtext was clearly that his deliberateness was exploited by the Ring, that's how smart that fucking Ring was. Maybe the Ring won't bring you the paper, but it will certainly put your dog to shame.
Unfortunately, the way the movie makes it sound, Isildur was this weak-willed, incompetent hack with a sniveling expression, and not a single line of dialogue with which to redeem himself. Personally, I would have made Isildur's part a musical part, and made the movie 20 minutes longer to squeeze his story in there.
Take note, lord of the rings: the fellowship of the ring, the movie: there's a reason I capitalize The Ring, and not you anymore. I am not to be trifled with. Just ask juggs rinehart the blah*. You know what time it is?
Uh oh! What will Britney Spears's vagina do now that we are entering day 4 of the non-stop news cycle about her little sister's pregnancy, which even CNN IS COVERING!?!? That's right, American Teenage Girl-istas, take note: all it takes is a TV show on Nickelodeon, a little unprotected underage sex, and a family history of pathological sluttiness, and your vagina could be making national headlines too!
But seriously, Britney is a girl whose woman parts do NOT like to be upstaged. I'm worried about her, and so is Alex Rodriguez - more than usual, in fact. I think he's nervous that the judge who robbed her of Sean Preston and Demonspawn #2 might also award custody of Britney's privates to K-Fed as well, purely for their own protection.
It's not a half-bad idea, really, but I thought I had come up with a better one - namely, that they replace the light show in Grand Central Station with a great big pictorial history of Britney Spears's genitalia, set to the soundtrack of 2001: A Space Odyssey mashed up with Oops...I Did It Again. Seriously, if you were taking your kids on a holiday trip to the Big Apple, what would you want to show them - a light show that they can come back and see EVERY YEAR EXACTLY THE SAME BORING WAY, or Britney Spears's oh-so-fame-worthy naughty bits?
Unfortunately, the powers-that-be at GRINCH CENTRAL STATION didn't agree with me, so on with the light show, idiots. Meanwhile, A-Rod and I are stewing, and now that we have no recourse in the form of Yankee contracts to opt out of, what else can we do except pull a prank to exact our revenge? A prank that will affect all of BLAND CENTRAL, but that won't cause the national terror alert level to go higher than yellow.
Wait...does anyone remember if yellow is good or bad? I completely forget what the desirable color is, although if I had my way, I'd like to see the national terror level hovering at right around a blue iris, which incidentally, is Pantone's choice for color of the year for 2008! So soothing... imagine being told the terror alert level was blue iris. You could totally go right back to sleep.
Then, we would strike! With wheels of cheese!
Enter Alex Rod. What better revenge prank is there than to make all of Grand Central smell like smoked gouda for a few days (which also makes quite a fitting tribute to Britney's stinky hoo-ha, by the way...)? A-Rod, you are so clever! So thematic! So steroid- and HGH-free! So rolling giant wheels of smoked gouda down Lexington Avenue in the 40s with your pinstripe pants at your ankles and your great big giant trackmark-free ass hanging in the breeze, singing "Peanut Butter Jelly Time!" at the top of your lungs. Peanut butter jelly with a baseball bat indeed.
Happy Holidays, midtown Manhattan. A-Rod says so, that's why. What.
