Sound wars.

James Lileks gets hilariously defensive about his IPod. Dude, if you want to base your mp3 player strictly on its aesthetic appeal, fine, but why lash out when people who focus more on the sound and function don't give a hoot in hell about the aesthetics? (Also, I find the IPod ugly and monolithic. So sue me, I like feedback.)

In which I address Orlando Bloom.

Go Fug Yourself reports that the Star said you broke up with Kate Bosworth because she told you to choose between her and making Pirates II with Johnny Depp.

You made the right decision, sweetie.

Dames come and go and take half your property with them. A decent role in a movie franchise, even as secondary slightly-swishy beefcake--that's as close to security as Hollywood gets. Besides, her head looks like a pumpkin on a pencil. Seriously.

Now go eat a sandwich.

The Year of the Puppet.

Triumph interviewed in the NY Times:

With your Catskills-style schtick and your Russian-accented English, I must ask: Are you Jewish?

Like Madonna, I'll become Jewish when I need the publicity.

Oh, yes.

[Via Tim Blair, who got it from Jim Treacher.]

Suspicions of gross sentimentality confirmed.

James Bowman analyzes the political agenda behind Clint Eastwood's Million Dollar Baby, and the basis for denial of said agenda by both Eastwood and the critics at large. (With bonus Arthur Miller content, in conjunction with the previous post.)

I don't want to see Clint on-screen anymore unless he's shooting people. Preferably without the weepy self-torment.

De mortuis.

Terry Teachout views the work of the late Arthur Miller with a gimlet eye. (May require registration, but it's free.)

2/17 update: So does Mark Steyn.

Three cheers and a tiger.

I noticed yesterday Mark Steyn's website is being updated again.

Cheap shots.

In response to the launch of Kalashnikov Vodka (counter-intuitively a British brand, albeit under the auspices of Gen. Kalashnikov himself) , Tim Blair suggests a line of similarly-themed liquors.

My favorite: Hezbollah Boozalah. (collapses in a fit of giggles)

Garden State.

That's it. I'm off slacker comedies. Everyone in the movie bordered on the repulsive.

Clarification: Not physically. They were all just so...damn...stupid.

Huh.

Turns out Netflix limits you to 500 movies in the queue. Damn.