Celebrity Injustice

Like all good things, the celebrity porn trend simply must come to an end. It was intriguing, voyeuristically exciting at first. But like 'The Sopranos', the trend is rapidly losing its entertainment value and moving toward cliche.

Don't get me wrong - we've had some good times: Rob Lowe's episode of 'Candid Camera' minus consent forms, Pam Anderson and 'Big Gun' Tommy Lee in 'Love Boat 2000', Paris Hilton in the X-rated version of the 'Silence of the Lambs' climax, and of course Beetlejuice and what may be Nell Carter setting the gold standard for midget smut (apologies to the legendary Bridget the Midget).

But this is just too much. The Chyna video was pretty bad, but it's really no more than you see on any given episode of the 'Surreal Life' beneath those inadequate fuzzies. But the thought of having to see Fred Durst's ugly mug making the O-face makes me want to choke on my own vomit, which coincidentally is the reaction I have whenever I hear 'Nookie.'

The whole story is sketchy - why would anyone, anywhere have the slightest interest in seeing Durst administer a money shot to some skank groupie (shudder to think what the Bizkit's groupies look like at this point)? It's like someone going out of their way to steal an advance copy of Ethan Hawke's next novel/Kobe's follow-up to 'Visions'/etc. All in all, it seems highly suspicious that this 'accidentally' leaked to the public.

I think it says something about the state of celebrity and, hell, society when homemade celebrity porn videos have become a powerful marketing tool. So your band is an irrelevant relic of the mercifully brief rap-metal era and you've made yourself into a walking joke due to, among other things, your obsession with Britney Spears, who herself is a big walking joke. Time to leak a porn video! After all, it did wonders for Pam/Tommy and Paris (not so well for Tonya Harding, though, but there were bigger problems there).

Inevitably this will lead to a spike in visibility for Durst, carrying him to unprecedented heights on the prestigious 'Yahoo's Top 10 Searches' list, pulling 'Rollin' briefly out of the radio archives, and no doubt driving hordes of Web surfers to the excellent IHateFredDurst.com.

But in the end, our society will be that much weaker for having witnessed it, for rewarding Fred by once again making him relevant. We'll be inviting every other has-been and wannabe to "accidentally" misplace their own sex tapes, opening the door for the John Teshes and Bea Arthurs of the entertainment world to claw their way back into our lives. Is that what we want? Bea Arthur bent over and growling like a laryngitic polar bear, bathed in eerie green light? I think not.

Only one thing is for certain - if it happens to be Britney in the video, we all owe Freddie a big time apology.

"Paging Dr. Kevorkian. Bob DeNiro's on the line, Sir."

If you were to run a poll asking people to name the top 5 actors of the past 50 years, it's a pretty safe bet that Robert DeNiro would turn up on about 90% of the lists. The man has spent the better part of the last half-century giving great performances in countless memorable roles: Vito Corleone in 'Godfather II', Jake La Motta in 'Raging Bull', Jimmy Conway in 'Goodfellas' and Neil McCauley in 'Heat', just to name a few. He has rightfully transcended being merely an actor and is a legitimate cinematic institution, along with the likes of Al Pacino, Dustin Hoffman and Peter 'Money Shot' North.

But right now, the man who once singlehandedly almost made 'Jackie Brown' watchable is forcing us to consider the following troubling questions: How much slack does 35 years of general greatness buy you? How long until you're exiled to the world of straight-to-video with 'Surreal Life 6' fodder like William Baldwin and Sly Stallone? Are 10 Det. Mitch Prestons ('Showtime') > 1 Max Cady ('Cape Fear')?

They're questions that bear asking, because DeNiro is currently on a Feldman-esque run of cinematic futility. DeNiro has arguably had, outside of Michael Jackson and maybe Lindsay Lohan's dad, the worst beginning to the 21st Century of anyone in the world of entertainment. His credits, beginning with 2000's 'Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle' and continuing with the recent, vomitous 'Hide and Seek', read like an application for a Razzie's Lifetime Achievement Award. The Man Who Was Travis Bickle has been reduced to sharing top billing with a nine-year-old (happy birthday this Wednesday, Dakota!).

What's saddest about the debacle that has become Robert DeNiro's career is that it seems no one even cares that he's begun mailing it in, stooping to self-parody rather than actually acting. He's not even relevant enough for people to get upset when he squeezes out a rancid turd like 'Godsend' or 'City by the Sea' or 'Showtime' or....you get the picture. For Christ's sake, there are near-riots when 'Gigli' is released yet no one has the energy to register robertdenirosucksass.com when 'Analyze That' is forced upon us?

Perhaps I'm misreading this, denying the man his due credit. Any man who could handle Naomi Campbell in the height of her diva-ness must be afforded the benefit of the doubt and then some. Maybe he's scheming to pull a Travolta, slumming for a decade or so in crappy TV movies and wretched family fare (please, please - no talking babies/dogs) before exploding back on the scene like a million tsunamis in some trendy new director's quirky homage to 70's crime drama playing a bad-tempered transsexual hit man with an affinity for goofy hats.

Until that happens, the DeNiro faithful will just have to buckle down, grin and bear it while their man outgrows this unfortunate phase. We may not yet have seen the worst of it; judging by the last few films, there could be a teaming with Hilary Duff in a remake of 'She's Out of Control' on the horizon.

I still have faith, however, that we'll see at least one more great DeNiro performance before the man is put permanently out to pasture. 2 to 1 odds that it will be in a mob movie playing a Conway/Vitti/Corleone/Capone hybrid, but at this point, we'll take what we can get. As his Dwight Hansen said to Leonardo DiCaprio near the end of 'This Boy's Life', "You'll remember me! You'll remember me!" Indeed.

So rock & roll it's ridiculous

New Spoon

The long awaited new Spoon album, titled Gimme Fiction, is due out May 10, but what do release dates really mean nowadays? The torrent is below. I plan on giving it a good listen in the next few days. If it's half as good as the new Doves album (also leaked, due out March 20), I'll be a happy man.

http://tracker.zaerc.com/torrents-details.php?id=1630

To Blog or not to Blog?

Starting a blog, now that everyone and their retarded cousin has one, feels a little like becoming a Nirvana/Sublime/INXS fan post-shotgun/needle/belt & double headed dildoes. Blogs are no longer an original, anarchic way to express oneself. Maybe the best ones still have a bit of that revolutionary spirit that comes with having a following and no editor to censor the commentary. But when Wil Wheaton has his own shitty blog, the format has officially become uncool (though the man gets some props for contributing voice work to 'GTA: San Andreas').

Still, the idea of putting together a blog has been calling to me of late. Some of my friends, too lazy to do one themselves, have suggested this may be a good way to consolidate my offbeat thoughts and stop "clogging email inboxes." Sure, 37 penis-lengthening solicitation emails each day are OK, but a few friendly and occasionally humorous notes are just too much. Assholes.

I'm not sure what I hope to achieve with the blog. Writing is a passion of mine, but I often find it boring as hell, which doesn't bode well for me updating this thing with any kind of regularity. Maybe it's a test - conquer the blog, then the world (or at least the treadmill). More likely it's just going to be a place where I can post my demented rants and links to articles about people severing their own genitals or screwing live chickens.

So the blog adventure begins here. I have no roadmap and no agenda, so don't expect a theme. I expect it will be an unoriginal blend of pop culture ruminations, sports columns, music raves and rants, and drunken ramblings. Although my coordination drops precipitously after a few shots of jager, so I wouldn't expect muzh psat 2AM on a Staurday.

Anyway, to the three people who will ever see this blog, I welcome you. To show my appreciation, I give you this.