When the mayoral mouth opens, it’s no coincidence that most things out of it sound like “Oh shut up, you f–king baby.” [Read]

My political awakening came while sitting with the most unlikely person in the most unlikely place. I was in the Billy Crystal Room of the New York Friars Club (yes, there’s a place in the world where a room is named for Billy Crystal). [Read]

The grandly obscene part is that after spending all of 10 months trying to lure listeners who don’t remember what it was like when the boys came home from the Spanish-American War, NPR has decided it’s not worth the trouble. [Read]

Throughout the history of hands, applause have been used to acknowledge things people do in front of other people — things like perform violin concertos, score touchdowns and compete in wet T-shirt contests. [Read]

One of the reasons Battlestar Galactica works so well is the same reason Planet of the apes became a classic: In both, humanity’s demise is rooted in its Alfred E. Neuman-esque attitude toward the machines of war. [Read]

The argument against hand-drawn animation is based not on financial realities, but on the poor performance of a few features made back when Disney was gnawing off its own animation arm and DreamWorks was, well, being DreamWorks (which is to say when DreamWorks was gnawing off its own neck). [Read]

I now look forward to Carrie Bradshaw’s big screen debut about as much as I look forward to the day when I arrive in hell and am told David Spade is my roommate. [Read]

Empowerment, of course, does not greenlight movies. Cocaine-addled film executives greenlight movies, and they must be spoken to in a language they understand. Here’s how to sell it to them: [Read]

Truly, 2007 was a crap time to be an American actress with half a brain, —and this year isn’’t looking any better. Last Friday saw the release of two very different dramas driven by homegrown female talent: “The Other Boleyn Girl” and “Bonneville.” That would be good news if the former wasn’’t cotton candy and the latter wasn’’t gruel (with a side of extra gruel). [Read]

When Saturday Night Live woke from its strike coma Saturday night, the first question viewers had for it was, Where the hell are you going to find a black guy to play Barack Obama. Always obliging, SNL answered in the cold open: Who needs a black guy when you’ve got a Latino and a bucket of face paint? [Read]