{Editor's Note: This is a semi-regular series of high-water mark performances that spans movies, television, books and life its ownself.}
"What's your name?"
"Bend over."
"Nice to meet you Ben."
Lines like this uttered by most actors would be marginally funny at best. However, with Chevy Chase as Fletch the lines pop, laughter ensues and you find yourself repeating the lines with your friends later in the day and laughing all over again.
Choosing a peak performance for one of Comedy's elder statesmen was a difficult task. However, after a thorough examination of his body of work and a quiet evening of solemn contemplation, I can say with confidence that Chevy Chase's best work was as Irwin Fletcher. 
In both films, Chase plays the perfect fast talking, wise ass reporter. 
The films themselves are well done and well written with interesting plots. However, the real driving force in the movie is the character of Fletch. And Chevy Chase makes Fletch work.
They have kicked around the idea of making a Fletch prequel and several names have been thrown around in rumors to be the new Fletch. Ben Affleck was mentioned several times before he inflicted Gigli and a string of box office poison pills on the public. Now the name I see the most is Jason Lee. Lee is a closer fit than Affleck by far, but I really hope that they just don't make a new Fletch movie. Nobody will be better than Chevy Chase. Nobody.
--JWS
"I could never live in Austin. The girls are too pretty and the dope is too cheap," - Steve Earle 
In a show of reconciliation for our recent sniping, my brother and I have cast aside our differences and united for a recapping of the most important events in the world this week.
My brother fashions himself a rogue political expert turned pseudo-philosophical bullshit artist, while I am a humble humanitarian, blogger and ponderous thinker.
I beg to differ as it's closer to an egomanical jack-ass who can't afford a shirt, but let's move onto some real news like . . .
Hilary Duff can rest easier as prosecutors charged a New York teenager with stalking the pop star and making threats on her life.
Maksim Myaskovskiy, 18, pleaded not guilty to the felony charge at his first court appearance Tuesday. At the request of prosecutors, his bail was raised to $1 million.
Police failed to mention Myaskovskiy's motives, but it might be retribution for her role in foisting this past summer's putrid shitbomb "Material Girls" with her sister, Haylie, onto an unsusptecting public.
In an otherwise banner week for Britney Spears, a judge has thrown out Britney Spears' lawsuit against celebrity magazine Us Weekly ruling the pop star cannot be defamed by published rumors about a sex tape with K-Fed.
Superior Court Judge Lisa Hart Cole said Spears has "put her modern sexuality squarely, and profitably, before the public eye" and it would be unlikely for the magazine article to be found defamatory.
The judge obviously turned a blind eye to Spears' interview with Matt Lauer this past year, which featured about as much sexuality as an octogenarian antique convention.
Kirstie Alley dropped by on "Oprah" this week to chat about her weight loss (75 lbs and counting) and show off her new bikini body. 
I think it's great that Alley dropped the weight and seems much healthier and more confident, but it couldn't have been too hard to change the cycle she was engaged in prior to the shedding of flesh as she used to consume:
"Twenty sugar-free Popsicles. Twelve grape sodas. Chips. Two burritos. A tostada. I was eating six, seven, eight thousand calories a day," Alley said to Life magazine. "I had a holiday mentality. I ate with wild abandon."
I prefer to love with wild abandon - I’m a lover not an eater. But seriously, nobody can eat that much everyday and not be fat as a cat - nobody.
In a case of weird player weirder (or maybe the other way around) Christopher Walken will reportedly be playing Ozzy Osbourne in a cameo appearance in forthcoming film The Dirt, based on the Motley Crue autobiography.
Typically, Walken can't be beat in a question of bizarre behavior, but he might be trumped by Ozzy. Maybe. Whomever the winner may be, it's still a good casting call in my book.
The first half of the new season of "Lost" concluded Wednesday before returning in February to air the second half with no repeat episodes to be found. 
I actually prefer this format to keep momentum, however, the second half better get somewhere faster than the initial part because I finally feel like we're no longer making much progress and am starting to wonder if the writers painted themselves into a corner that they cannot get out of.
Reese Witherspon and Ryan Phillipe are also divorcing posing the question: If a Hollywood couple gets divorced and nobody cares, does it still count?
But let's end with something a bit more pleasing to the mind and to my idea of safety:
Suddenly, we feel we might be in need of some saving, although we're not sure from what, and if a rescue did occurr then something would definitely happen faster than a speeding bullet, but let's not get bogged down in details . . . Happy Friday!
-BDS & JWS
{This is the second of what will be a recurring series that will only happen when I have consumed far too much beer at the Draught Horse Tavern in Austin, TX with my brother. Tonight, for instance 2 pitchers of Young's Winter Warmer were bought and paid for triggering strange thoughts, candid insights and pure horseshit. Selah.}
- Even if your bumper sticker is clever as hell, it still makes a nice car look cheap
- When I meet someone inside the office break-room before 9:30 a.m., I don't really want an answer to my perfunctory "How's it going" question
- Always remember that 98% percent of other people don't find you nearly as fascinating as you find yourself
- For pure homo-eroticism at its finest, you couldn't pick a better sport than wrestling. 
- I love a well-formed back, especially the small part, on a woman for reasons I can't entirely explain
- If you played "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" by Poison between certain years in the 80s/90s you were getting some serious action because it was like Spanish Fly for girls
- It's vaguely reasonable to name your penis if it makes sense such as Capt. Hook for someone with a curved member, but naming your balls goes too far and means you have too much time on your hands
- Outside of stadium or ballpark, it is never acceptable for one man to slap another man on the ass.
- You know what they say about guys with giant feet . . . They look like clowns (and I wear a size 11 by the way)
- James Patterson is a hack. You can't turn out a new book every 3 months with any kind of quality control at all.
- Earlier this week, my brother took a cheap shot at me which was fueled by petty jealousy as well as the secret shame of being a worse example of a Never-Nude than Tobias on "Arrested Development." All that manly flesh that was exposed on this site has been like pouring salt into a fresh wound, which was obviously too much for him to bear. But you can help. Please send all donations in care of 2 Dollar Productions because you can make a difference.
-BDS
Having spent my first 3 years of college learning in Electrical Engineering, I learned an untold number of ways to turn women off. I usually don’t like to spread stereotypes but I do like to gamble.
That being said, between a leper with syphilis and most of the people that were in my engineering classes at UT, I would say it would be even money as to who would be more likely to walk out of a bar with a female companion.
The worst come-on line I heard during my time among the scientific elite was this one:
Guy: So, do you like math?
Girl: Umm, not really I guess?
Guy: Oh, that’s too bad. Math is wonderful. For instance, I say we take you, add me, subtract our clothing, divide your legs and multiply.
I don’t think that line would work in Bangkok brothel. But maybe I just never saw the line delivered properly.
--JWS
In addition to shedding her pregnancy poundage and suprising David Letterman on Monday night, Britney Spears dropped even more dead weight when she filed for divorce from Kevin Federline. 
Shocking I know. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard the news.
Spears cited the popular "irreconcilable differences" as the reason for the demise of her sacred union with K-Fed. She could have just as easily listed his prediliction for wearing wife-beaters to formal events, his almost complete lack of talent and his distance from reality as he seemed to honestly believe that the world was starving to hear him rap. 
The one thing I have to credit Federline with, however, is powerful sperm. It's ironic that the sleazy bastard has such active sperm as K-Fed appears to be as lazy as any 6 retirees sitting at Denny's, but this is undeniable - his man juice is potent.
So at least he's got that going for him.
He's going to need something to cheer him up as rumors suggest that Spears has an iron-clad prenup in her fist. She is also asking for for both legal and physical custody of the couple's two children, Sean Preston and Jayden James.
I only saw a brief clip of Spears on Letterman, but she certainly appeared svelte and happy about her impending separation, which is understandable and I can only hope that she starts a comeback that will conclude with something grand like the MTV Awards show where she ripped off her clothes to reveal this:
Those were the days.
And I know that I've heaped a lot of scorn on K-Fed for quite some time, however, I am starting to feel a twinge of compassion for the guy. He's a national joke. His kids are everywhere, and he has no viable career. 
Then I start to think that this joker will still walk away from Spears with millions in the bank, and he got to live the high-life for several years where his only requirements were to occasionally have sex, escort his wife for Popeye's chicken and hang with his fuck-knuckle friends at his sprawling estates (when he wasn't in Vegas partying and sticking his pregnant wife with the tab).
Could it be that K-Fed was smarter than anyone, including myself, could even fathom?
No. Even morons can win the lottery, and this human jackal found the lucky numbers for a lot longer than most people ever will, and for that alone I refuse to feel even a shred of pity.
-BDS
{Editor's Note: I voted last week during early voting, but if you haven't, go brave the lines and cast something - this post will be here when you return.}
In a long overdue release, the first season of "Beverly Hills 90210" arrives on DVD today. 
It's amazing to me that this series took so long to put together because there is money to be made in the hills of West Beverly. "Beverly Hills 90210" lasted 10 seasons before taking a dirt nap, and although there were some dicey years sprinkled through its run, I plan to own the complete series.
This was a seminal show for me as I remember starting to watch during my middle school years that eventually extended to college and beyond.
I wanted to be Dylan McKay, and for my money, I would still choose Luke Perry's high school life over anyone else who has ever played a teenager on television. 
The man had it all.
He had a swank house in Beverly Hills, a trust fund, a sweet vintage black convertible Porsche and no parents around to tell him that maybe he shouldn't drink on a Tuesday or bring back loose women to his house for sleep-overs. He also enjoyed reading good books and had a standing reservation at an outstanding hotel in town should he ever tire of his own abode.
The sideburns we need not even mention. 
During the run of "Beverly Hills 90210," I spread my guilty vice to many people including several ex-girlfriends, a few roommates and various co-workers. Some people might initially try some bullshit posturing and claim they didn't watch the show, but they usually turned out to be bald-faced liars who eventually caved to most famous zip code in TV history.
I haven't watched the first season of '90210' in many years, and I have a feeling that some of it won't hold up too well under scrutiny (much like Ian Ziering's blonde mullet from the show).
But that's not really the point as things you watched and liked during particular time periods don't have to be technically superior products to hold value. The outstanding aspect is their ability to transport you back to a time and place while entertaining you at the same time.
All in all, I think that's a pretty good deal for $35.
-BDS
I hold the Political Junkie title here at 2 Dollar Productions...which I guess means that my counterpart holds the Taking Pictures of Myself With No Shirt On title. But I digress.
Generally, I try not to subject people to my political ramblings under the assumption that Bar Conversation etiquette applies to this site. However, since we are upon the Midterm Elections, I have elected to help out in a small way by providing a handy summation of all the attack ads that have been flying around the country. Because honestly, who wants to be bored to death by reading summations of candidates views on isses?
So, without further ado, here is all the attack ad goodness boiled down to it's wonderful essence:
- Democrats
If you elect a Democrat they will only stay in office long enough to do the following things:
1) Raise your taxes by 100% so that every illegal immigrant in this country can go on well fare and get their teeth whitened twice a year.
2) Harvest millions of unborn babies so that a government sponsored project team can find a way to make thousands of Michael Moore and Nancy Pelosi clones.
3) Outlaw all marriage except gay marriage.
4) Encourage your children to have underage sex so they can have abortions.
This is all before they hand over the government to the terrorists and then dance around a bonfire of burning American flags.
- Republicans
If you elect a Republican, they will only stay in office long enough to do the following things:
1) Sign a law outlawing gay marriage while recieving gay, oral sex from a slighly-willing, slightly-drunk, very underage page.
2) Hire a vastly underqualified cronie or family member to run a vital government post.
3) Cut taxes for Oil Corporations and Paris Hilton.
4) Smoke a cigar and discuss feasible ways to deny every working American access to healthcare and insurance.
This is before they jet off to a lobbyist funded get away where they swill whiskey, pop viagra and discuss how awesome Karl Rove is.
So, go out and vote tomorrow. Vote for your favorite mistress choker, your favorite firefighter basher, your favorite cold hard cash freezer, your favorite racial slur hurler, or just your favorite bat-shit insane Florida senate candidate. Because remember, when you vote, it makes the politician that represents you not just AN asshat, it makes them YOUR asshat.
--JWS
The December issue of Playboy magazine arrived this weekend, and although I typically read most of the articles (I swear), the pictures from the year-end spectacular merited special attention as Cindy Margolis was staring back at me from the cover. 
Margolis is the most downloaded person on the Internet, which would be a pretty sweet title to throw out at bars or simply place prominently on a business card.
I would also find ways to work it into nearly every conversation I ever had regardless of the topic.
"You just got a raise, eh?"
"That's really cute, but I'm the most dowloaded person on the entire Internet jack-ass. I'll raise you that, and see how you like it." (laughs maniacally). 
It's probably for the best that I don't hold this title, eh?
Anyway, Margolis was equally as famous for refusing to shed her clothes as she was for being an Internet pin-up Queen, but I suppose Hugh Hefner finally wore her down like an old boot-heel.
The decision to finally shed her clothes wasn't easy, but as Margolis noted in several interviews, the timing was finally just right.
Margolis: "My decision to do Playboy is literally 20 years in the making. I've always prided myself in keeping my clothes on, being the girl next door. I've had the number-one downloaded (celebrity) Web site, and for years I've been known as the "Queen of the Internet" in the "Guinness Book of World Records," America Online, Yahoo!, (all while) keeping my clothes on, and I've been very proud of that. Every couple years when Mr. Hefner would call, I would very graciously decline, because my mom would kill me, and I thought it was more mysterious keeping my clothes on.
But, this year, when I got the call from Mr. Hefner, it was my 40th birthday. So I thought, "Wow -- at 40, they still want me?" And I thought it's almost an inspiration -- like a "you go, girl" moment. I feel empowered that you can be married and have three children and still be sexy and confident and look great." 
I guess that having it all for some people means getting buck naked and wearing body glitter, which works for me as Margolis looks great for any age. It's also obvious that she enjoys bringing her Internet authority to virtually any conversation too. 
There's always been something about Margolis that mixes a vague sort of moral code with pure voluptous lust in my eyes and I have to say that I really dig that juxtaposition.
And I don't care about the air-brushing involved because anybody who looks at Playboy images for reality has about as much credibility as a high-ranking religious leader who claims to buy drugs but not use them, as well as pay for massages by gay men but not indulge in anything else.
It's a moral tight-rope that Margolis has walked for years, but now the gauntlet has been thrown aside and her clothes quickly followed - not that I'm complaining.
-BDS
{Editor's Note: This is a semi-regular series of high-water mark performances that spans movies, television, books and life its ownself.}
Transcendent performances can come in all shapes and sizes, and often have nothing to do with screen time logged as John Turturro proved with his turn as a sleazy bowler and reformed pederast in "The Big Lebowski."
This was a phenomenal movie all the way around, but Turturro's performance provided a quick and perfect shot of hilarity whenever he appeared onscreen.
His love of bowling was evident from the start as viewers were treated to a shot of Turturro warming up to roll by closing his eyes and licking the ball. 
It's a testament to Turturro's power that he didn't even have to utter a line before viewers knew that he was on top of his game. All it took was a quick camera shot showing the man as he erotically cleaned his bowling ball while wearing a hairnet and a purple jump-suit.
It takes real balls to wear an outfit like that.
He then proceeds to threaten Jeff Bridges, his opponent in an upcoming match, by telling him that he's going to "fuck him on Saturday" and emphasizing his point with some pelvic gyrations.
The highlight of his resume, however, is the match itself as Turturro rolls a strike while a Spanish-flavored version of "Hotel California" kicks in the background. To celebrate, a slow-mo shot finds Turturro breaking into a hilarious victory dance meant to intimidate Jeff Bridges and company. 
He ends it with meaningful finger point at his teammate, who enthusiastically marks down the score.
I laugh every single time I watch this scene for the entire duration, and it highlights Turturro's brief but extremely potent gift to a great movie already teeming with bizarre characters.
But in Turturro's own words, you better "never fuck with the Jesus." Amen.
-BDS
"You've been eating those retard sandwiches again," - Matt Dillon, "Beautiful Girls"
It's Friday again, and the weather is getting cooler in Austin which means more driving with the top down and drinking on patios. But let's see what happened this week before hitting a happy hour as it's only 6 a.m.
Sumner Redstone, chairman of Paramount parent Viacom Inc., fired Tom Cruise this summer, and in the upcoming Vanity Fair issue decides to slam him some more.
"He was embarrassing the studio. And he was costing us a lot of money," Redstone said. Redstone went onto site his wife's opinion of Cruise and said "Paula, like women everywhere, had come to hate him. The truth of the matter is, I did listen to her ..." Redstone says. "His behavior was entirely unacceptable to Paula and to the rest of the world. He just didn't turn one (woman) off. He turned off all women, and a lot of men." 
This kind of talk is what happens when you have a shitload of money and are too old to give much of a damn if you make enemies - it must be a nice feeling (at least the first part).
You might be seeing a lot more of Marcia Cross in the future as the Desperate Housewife threw out a plethora of nude pictures, which some lucky guy then found and is now trying to sell back to Cross or to the highest bidder. 
Will celebrities never learn that the only way to get rid of the evidence is to burn it? Or simply not take pictures or make videos in the first place.
It could be worse, at least she wasn't one of the women who turned up in the Screech sex tape that's about to come out. Small favors.
Sticking with red-heads, Linsay Lohan was forced to dispel rumors of her alleged prudish behavior in a recent interview as Lohan has apparently grown tired of being referred to as demure, refined and classy by the press. 
"Sex And The City changed everything for me because those girls would just sleep with so many people. And that's me. I'm not dating just one person. It is the variety of partners everyone likes, especially at my age. I'm like Angelina Jolie, taking on lovers. I don't need a steady relationship. I mean if the sex is bad, the relationship's not going anywhere. Anyway, I don't even think I have had my best kiss yet. My mom's going to kill me for talking about sleeping with people!"
I would have never guessed that Lohan was sleeping around, but I would bet even money that her mother doesn't care as long as the checks keep rolling in.
Tyra Banks keeps trying to be the next Oprah, but the problem is that she's not nearly as articulate or choosy about when she opens her mouth and she recently decided to drop some raps on her talk show that she wrote when she was a 13-year-old. 
With lyrics like "I'm 5' 9", I look so fine, yes all my fellas are so divine" and "If you and I meet you will not stand, get on your knees and kiss Ty's hand," Banks threw down in front of Ludacrious and her audience.
And I think she probably wrote those lyrics last week, and just claimed they were from her teenage years to cover her ass.
Courtney Love is crediting Mel Gibson with helping her get sober. 
Love related a tale about how Gibson "kept coming to the door with this cheesy grin going, `Hi!'" she told Diane Sawyer and that Gibson would not allow her to keep getting high with a group of men in her hotel room.
Eventually Gibson took the men "out for a cheeseburger" and left behind Warren Boyd, an addiction counselor who deprived Love of the drugs and group sex session that was scheduled for the evening.
Gibson's rescue was obviously prior to his own DWI arrest, subsequent slandering of jews throughout the world and Love failed to mention if he called her "sugar tits" during the intervention.
But enough about distasteful things like orgies gone awry, and let's end with a steller image that works for me on a Friday (or any other day of the week for that matter) 
. . . So put on your best hat and garters, send all pictures to 2 Dollar Productions and Happy Friday!
-BDS
I have read several articles now which claim that scientists are getting close to creating a way to render humans and objects invisible. There seem to be several approaches that are being explored. They range from nano-engineered materials for "Invisibilty Cloaks" to devices that can bend light around an object...like The Predator. Either way, I think Invisibility technology is an awful idea.
Just look at what happened to Kevin Bacon. He started as an innocent highschool kid, who just wanted to show the elders of a small town that a little dancing didn't make the baby Jesus cry(Footloose). Then, later in life when he was a scientist (Hollow Man), he found a way to become invisible and subsequently pervy and psycopathic.
Let us not forget the follies of Kevin Bacon's fictional characters, people. We must all stand up and oppose this forthcoming technology before it wreaks havoc on society.
Now, I know it's amusing to think about what you would do if you could become invisible. However, you must be strong, like myself, and NOT think that the first thing you would do with an Invisibility Cloak would be to put it on your right hand and have the most amusing round of loving thyself that you've ever experienced. You're just asking for trouble people.
--JWS
{This is the first of what will be a recurring series that will only happen when I have consumed far too much beer at the Draught Horse Tavern in Austin, TX with my brother. Tonight, for instance more than 2 pitchers of Harp and a few pints went down the hatch, which undoubtably leads to strange thoughts, candid insights and pure horseshit. Selah.}
- Any sport where you can still drink and play it (i.e. bowling, golf, softball) is not a real sport.
- If anyone starts a conversation with "to tell you the truth" - the next statement is probably a lie.
- Most people should not have their driver's license as they are a plague on the road and dangerous to everyone around them.
- Is anyone else terrified of what Pam Anderson will look like when she's 60? 
- Why is horny such a silly word for such a serious action?
- Is there a worse place for a conversation with a stranger than a public bathroom?
- If someone still uses the catchphrase "Show me the money" without an ironic glint in their eye, that person is officially someone that I will no longer hang around.
- If anyone has too many "good friends," I instantly lower my trust in their judgement.
- A doctor should never have cold hands when checking you for hernia - and he should never be smiling either.
- Incompetence is running rampant in our society. If you hate your job - join the club, but you still better do it well.
- Madonna's arms look freakishly scary these days. 
- If someone ever comes up with a hangover cure then bar sales are going to go through the roof.
-BDS
Back when I was 19 or so, several friends and I ventured out to a rather shady costume store to get our necessary Halloween disguises. The place had all of the usual stuff: vampire gear, super hero get-ups, sexy/slutty/trampy {fill in the blanks}. However, they also had something that for an unknown reason, I found to be truly magical. It was this full-body, ridiculous rabbit costume replete with a giant polka dot vest and matching bowtie.
Through a combination of being 19 and having had several spiked pumpkin juices prior to the outing, I decided that I had to rent it. I had to put down a rather large deposit, but the salesman assured me that I could return the suit up to a week after Halloween. So, I happily handed over the money and walked out of the store. Huge bunny suit in hand.
Exactly, ONE day after Halloween I returned to the store to find the windows boarded-up, the door locked and a 'CLOSED' sign over one window which looked like it could have been hanging in front of the building for about 30 years. Now, not so happily, I was the owner of a ridiculously expensive full-body rabbit costume replete with polka dot vest and matching bowtie. Poop.
Wearing a rabbit costume on Halloween is kind of funny and is in no way a problem. Having a rabbit costume stuck in your closet any other time of the year is something that a date finds accidentally and then suddenly gets an 'emergency' phone call from her roomate and has to go home. Immediately.
Needless to say, I wore that damn costume for about the next 5 Halloweens in order to get my money out of it and in the Halloween off-seasons, I generally stored it in one of my roomate's closets so as to avoid any uncomfortable questions from the few females I duped into my boudoir.
One Halloween while being The Rabbit, my friends and I threw a keg party at our house...and the typical things happened. People drank too much punch and beer. I laughed a lot about a lot of shit that I probably would not find so funny today. I hit on too many girls dressed as slutty/trampy/sexy (fill in the blanks}. And people crashed the party.
Friends of friends of 3rd cousins that someone met once at Thanksgiving in Pawtucket started showing up in droves and doing all the things that party crashers tend to do. They drank our booze. They talked amongst themselves. They hit on the girls we knew who were dressed as sexy/trampy/slutty {fill in the blanks}. And they brought absolutely nothing of value to the party.
So, we had to start removing people. Mostly because our beer supply would not last the night if our new "friends" didn't find someone else to mooch off. So, I in my bunny suit along with a few of my more sizeable acquaintances, started getting rid of the interlopers. Most left quietly and without incident. However, this one guy just had to make a scene. He tried to fight people, started breaking stuff, and suggested several times that my friends and I had inappropriate relationships with our mothers.
We finally did get him out into the street and even there, he stood pitching a fit, insulting the other guests and hosts. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He seemed to enjoy himself even more when someone from the crowd that had gathered near the front door would hurl their own insult back at him.
Then something dawned on me. He actually did enjoy what he was doing. He liked being the center of attention even if that meant he ruined other people's time and was generally hated by everyone in the vicinity. It was obvious that he was not going to stop what he was doing and it was equally obvious that there was no cure for personality ailment. So there was only one thing to do.
I rounded everyone up, went back inside and ignored him. And the party continued happily for the rest of the evening.
Now, real life is not like an afterschool special. So there was a consequence to my strategy of benign neglect. The ex-communicated party-goer did take it upon himself to boot someone's car door. But he also wound up taking a ride with some very nice policemen who had been called by an elderly neighbor who was even less thrilled with his shennanigans than we were.
The little lesson I learned that night has stuck with me ever since. That lesson: Some people are douchebags. Utterly and completely. There is no helping it. And worse, they thrive on spreading their douchebaggie-ness to everyone that they can infect. The only way to escape is to just stay away from them all together.
With this spirit in mind, I would like to officially start THE LIST 2 (Apologies to The Colbert Report but I can not, as of yet, think of a better name). It is for those special individuals in the public eye who show that special determination that it takes to reach the Acme of Douchebaggery. They now have a place at 2 Dollar Productions. And the reward, for me at least, is that I vow to never mention them again, in anything that I write. Be it on a blog or in a movie or in a review or in the random things I scribble down when my boss thinks I am paying close attention to his lecture about wage rate analysis. No, these special few will never thrive off this little corner of the universe putting their name in print and helping to spread their douchery.
And given what has happened recently, the first man to be put on THE LIST 2 is non other than Rush Limbaugh. Sure, all the worthless crap he pulled before got him close, but he recently pushed himself up those last few inches to get to the top. I mean come on. Attacking Alex P. Keaton over his debilitating disease is like shanking your own grandmother...after she just baked you a whole bunch of homemade cookies.
So, from this point on his name will never appear here again and no link will be put up to any article that mentions his name.
Because in the Halloween Keg Party of Life, there will always be crashers who drink without paying, trash things that aren't their own, contribute nothing funny or insightful or interesting to conversation and eventually urinate in your dirty clothes hamper while puking in your bed. But no more will they ruin the fun for me. From now on, I'm kicking them out and returning my focus to where it should be: Trying to get the vixen dressed as a sexy Little Red Riding Hooker drunk enough so that she'll let me give her the most forgetable five minutes of her life...metaphorically speaking of course.
Who would be on your LIST?
--JWS
The news hit early this week that Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillipe were the latest Hollywood couple to file for divorce.
I can't say that I care very much nor was I particularly suprised as the pair had lasted 7 years, which in Hollywood terms is more like 40.
Now reports are coming out that Phillipe broke the camel's back by exchanging dirty text messages with Abbie Cornish, an Australian who is co-starring with Ryan in the upcoming movie "Stop-Loss."
That makes more sense than the initial stories which claimed no real reason other than the always vague "irreconcilable differences." The timing was suspicous to me, however, because Phillipe was finally getting work after years of appearances on the red carpet as Witherspoon's supportive husband.
"Crash" and "Flags of our Fathers" are big-time Hollywood movies. "Antitrust" was a giant pile of festering crap that made me want to jab my eyes out like this poor bastard after catching roughly 5 minutes of it on cable one night. 
But back to the cheating angle. I can't say that I entirely blame Phillipe if this turns out to be true.
I'm not taking this position because of some male code of conduct or because I don't think monogamy has its place or even because I think favorably of Phillipe as I have strongly disliked his work with the exception of "Way of the Gun."
Anyway, my feeling is based more on a hunch about Witherspoon. I like Reese Witherspoon just fine, and I also find her very pretty. Pretty - not sexy. 
I also respect that she seems professional as well as punctual and articulate.
Witherspoon has almost every quality I admire, but I do question her sense of humor as she seems like she could easily be an unrelenting task master at home.
This might be OK in the bedroom where if you don't do something right she'd make you do it again, however, on a daily basis I think this would grind you down and I also have to pivot back to the lack of sexy.
It's just my opinion that you've got to have a little sexiness oozing from you or things have a greater tendency to break down in the long run.
Not always. But sometimes the center cannot hold, and whatever qualities you find sexy must be thrown into that black hole or you'll plug that void with something or someone else.
Just a theory.
-BDS
