2 Dollar Productions

"If you want to look thin, hang out with fat people," - Rodney Dangerfield, "Back to School"

It's the Friday after Thanksgiving and you couldn't pay us enough to go anywhere near a shopping mall, so let's check into some important things, although all I'd really like to do would be to have a large army of Oompa Loompas rub my stomach with oil until it feels better from the all the food consumed yesterday. Selah.

A mini-feud between Kelly Ripa and Clay Aiken broke out this week after Ripa claimed that the notoriously testosterone-charged singer was hostile toward her and not "respectful in any way" when he was on the show recently.



The breaking point came when Aiken put his hands over her mouth quiet the eternally perky Ripa, who was not amused and told the crooner that "Oh that's a no-no... I don't know where your hands have been."

I hate to even speculate about the possibilities, but would say that it's likely someplace I wouldn't want to go - which would also include an appearance on Ripa's show.

Robert Altman died this week, and his body of work was impressive ("Mash," "Nashville," "Short Cut," "The Player"). Even more than his movies, I always liked him for working outside the system and calling the studios on their bullshit, which is always something to admire.


Michael Richards publicly apologized for his racist tirade in an appearance on "The Late Show," saying he was "really busted up" by the whole thing.


If this debacle has proved anything at all it's that Kramer should have stuck to physical comedy because that was his bread and butter on "Seinfeld" as obviously speaking isn't doing him any favors at all.

Britney Spears has been hanging out with Paris Hilton in Vegas lately after filing for divorce from K-Fed.


It's hard to say who's wearing the pants in the relationship, however, they probably don't care when they're ripping the pants off of male strippers with their teeth and talking about the need to be respected as artists.

"When I go to Hollywood, I start at the Chateau Marmont and then I usually end up naked in [famed photog] David LaChapelle's studio taking crazy pictures. That's usually a night with me. Four or five in the morning, lying across a car in David's studio." - Pamela Anderson said to "Blender" magazine.


It's about the same for me. I start with a few innocent beers at the Draught Horse and then next thing I know I end up ordering Migas at Kerbey Lane and then passing out naked in their bathroom thus prompting some savage beating on the door and multiple profanities screamed in multiple languages. I understand Pam more than I ever thought possible.

I have always been a fan of the color blue, so let's end with a shade that is pleasing to my eye:


This picture definitely doesn't give me the blues, and I think I hear some leftover turkey calling my name and so . . . Happy Friday!

-BDS

{This is the third 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 Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale were bought and paid for triggering strange thoughts, candid insights and pure horseshit. Selah.}


- I like to quote movie lines as much as the next person (It's so good. When it hits your lips, it's so good), but there has to be some real conversation sprinkled in the mix too.

- If you're in a public restroom and there are 3 empty urinals, you don't walk in and take the middle one forcing the next person to piss right beside you. It's called etiquette.

- You also never lean over to the guy taking care of business next to you and go "nice cock."

- I enjoy talking to myself to work over ideas and keep me focused, but if you start answering your own questions out loud it's probably time to go see a Doctor about some medication

- Doctors usually get a bad rap, but it's really dentists who are some of the most malicious bastards walking on two legs.


- I bet there are people out there who actually like it when a dog humps their leg. I am not one of those people.


- If I were a porn star, my working name would Winthorpe Cornelius Hammercock III. The III just lends it some nobility.


- A hot tub is a great place to start to get frisky, but a terrible venue to finish.


- I know Merchant-Ivory movies receive loads of critical acclaim, but for the most part they act like powerful sedatives for me and put me right to sleep.

- And speaking of sleeping, 2 Dollar Productions will be traveling to spend the holiday with family where the Internet does not roam and with that in mind, Happy Early Thanksgiving


Don't drink too much or stuff too much turkey down your throats and fall asleep in the tub - it gets awfully wet.

-BDS

Normally, there is one member of the fairly-to-totally worthless celebrity club that will take it upon themselves to rise above (or lower beneath as the case may be) their fellow spotlight whores and become The Most Worthless for that week.

However, this week has been like the Heavyweight championship of stupid and awful events.

First, The Juice. Poor OJ can't catch a break this week as the mighty wraith of Rupert Murdoch squashed his hopes of both a television special and book in one fatal swoop. What is the world coming to when a man can't make money by proposing a hypothetical scenario as to how he would have murdered his wife and housemate if he had indeed murdered them...which he didn't. In all fairness, I think OJ has just given up and assumes he's already going to a special level of Hell, but the ass clowns at Fox and the publishing company owned by Fox should be strung up by their toe nails in Times Square for attempting to foist this awfulness on the public.

And, I have to mention it even though this subject is about as safe as handling an old stick of dynamite, but...Michael Richards. Watching Kramer implode in a five minute tirade against a heckler at his most recent stand-up show was a special kind of gut wrenching. There's not much need to expound on how crass, ignorant and terrible his actions were, so I'll try to find what few, small slivers of silver lining there may be in this situation. One, the audience members, I thought, handled themselves well. Once the shock wore off, people just seemed to leave the show. No chucking beer bottles or charging the stage. They conducted themselves with much more class than Richards deserved or displayed. Second, Jerry Seinfeld has proven to be a rather stand-up individual during his intro for Richards' apology on Letterman last night. Three, at least Richards has not put the blame for his actions on a drinking problem or drug addiction. Unlike Gibson, Foley and a host of other high profile people who have fucked up egregiously lately, Kramer did not immediately check himself into Betty Ford and issue a press release detailing his lifelong struggle with Jaegermeister. I guess that's something...not a hell of alot. But something.

I guess I'll have to call this one a draw. To both contestants, may your cases of syphillis be plentiful and may you always be pissing into the wind.

--JWS

"I hope he gets fucked by a kangaroo and eaten by crocs." - Liza Minnelli, on ex-husband David Gest doing a Survivor-type reality show in Australia


I'm not sure what the worst fate would be: Getting banged by a Kangaroo, gulped by a crocodile or being married to Liza Minnelli?

It seems like a no-win situation, but regardless the quote does illustrate how ugly things can get when a relationship ends. And most don't finish well because if things were going good then you probably wouldn't be breaking up in the first place.

I can recall driving back after a pub crawl in college with my best friend when we saw huge flames shooting from our West Campus neighborhood.


I jokingly remarked that I hoped the source was my recent ex-girlfriends apartment complex, and when we walked toward the flames, I soon realized that this was indeed the case.

At the time, I chalked it up to bad karma, however, I do feel this might be have been a bit harsh in retrospect. I also have an iron-clad alibi in case anyone feels like making any unfounded accusations.

Stories like that are the tip of the iceberg when it comes to calling things off with someone.

There can be tears, punches and articles of clothing thrown out of doors. Drunken and slanderous accusations left on voicemails are always popular too.

I always enjoyed a good old fashioned stick-your-tongue-down-some-strangers-throat in front of your ex, which was sometimes difficult to successfully execute and at other times easier than Tara Reid after 3 shots of Jaggermeister.


Whatever the situation prompted, however, I never brought a kangaroo into the mix. Then again, I'm not from Australia, so it's possible it constitutes more of a geographical limitation than one of the imagination.


I certainly hope so because when a break-up is really getting sour I would have paid at least $2 to watch a kangaroo have it's way with one of my exes.

And possibly charged admission.

-BDS

Ever since Daniel Craig was cast as James Bond there has been a vocal contingent of fans denigrating everything from his blond locks to his rumored inability to properly operate a stick shift Ashton Martin.

But the Bond franchise desperately needed a new direction that focused on the character as the last few Pierce Brosnan vehicles were loaded with so many implausible and almost insulting FX shots that it was impossible to form any kind of attachment to the story or the characters operating inside of it.


Craig proves his mettle in "Casino Royale," which traces how James Bond got his license to kill as well as his inherent distrust of women outside the realm of a pleasureable romp in bedroom.


Following a reliably cool opening credits sequence, the movie wastes no time in throwing Craig into the action as he chases a wanted bomb-maker onto a construction site that finds the pair fighting and running and jumping all over some extremely high scaffolding, which ultimately concludes with the pair causing enough destruction to push the project behind by several months.

Unfortunately, this scene is the finest action sequence in the movie.

Despite the damage that 007 endures during this chase, the script is what really injures the newest Bond the most. The plot is loose and meandering and has something vaguely to do with terrorists (the Cold War is over and Bond movies are NOT better for it).

With no driving force to propel things along, director Martin Campbell, who also directed Brosnan in "Goldeneye," has problems with pacing and the middle of the film is bogged down in an exhaustive casino scene.


Gambling is an important element in many Bond films. The key to success, however, is tension and timing, which this film forgets. For one vast stretch we felt like we were watching the "Word Series of Poker" on ESPN when all we really wanted was to move the story along to somewhere else.

But every time the movie began sliding downhill, "Casino Royale" righted itself through a combination of sheer desire to break ranks with its predecessors, attitude, and blood.

Craig bleeds more in this film than all the other Bonds combined. Unlike Brosan, Dalton, Moore, Lazenby or Connery, he is pummelled, shot with a nail gun, sliced, diced and has his manhood literally crushed in a torture scene that is more unnerving than anything seen in "Hostel."

Most Bond traditionalists are not used to seeing their favorite secret agent so roughed up, but this is a different film and a new chapter for the man who "women want and men want to be."

No exchange makes those differences more apparent than when Craig orders his martini.

Bartender: "Would you like your martini shaken or stirred."

Bond: "Do I look like I give a damn?"

No he doesn't, and the "Casino Royale" is better for it as Craig puts the movie on his back during the times when he's not returning the favor with Eva Green or Caterina Murino.


Both women play Bond Girls, but Green takes center stage. She handles herself capably as she and Craig display some solid chemistry together.

And although Judi Dench doesn't qualify for this category, it's nice to see her merely busting balls and chewing scenery versus trolling for Oscars.

Bond movies can be counted on for exotic locales, gorgeous women and action. "Casino Royale" doesn't diasppoint in any of those areas, and much like "Batman Returns" last year, the new incarnation has breathed life into a franchise that had gone stale.

Craig puts to rest any concerns that he can handle his 007 status, however, we only hope that the next Bond movie provides him with a plot capable of matching his talents.

- BDS & JWS

{Editor's Note: This is a semi-regular series of high-water mark performances that spans movies, television, books and life its ownself.}

Stephen King is a prolific writer, and although you could argue for The Gunslinger series or The Stand as his best work, I would have to nominate IT for that title.


IT is a massive book (more than 1,000 pages) that traces an unspeakably evil clown (more or less) and the terror that IT unleashes on Derry, a small town in Maine (shocking). The story is mostly told through a group of seven friends or The Loser's Club as they referred to themselves as children who battle this monster called IT, and are later called back as adults to finish the job.


The novel starts with the killing of a small boy, an event which energizes and sets into motion the story as this group of misfits is pulled together during a momentous summer that changes them all forever.

IT is a shape-shifter that has an uncanny ability to use your worst fears against you, whether that be a werewolf or a clown or leper. These things make sense given your ability to indulge in quite a few irrational fears as you grow up.


What pushes the book over the top for me is that the group of main characters are all interesting and likable, a grab-bag of kids from the fat outcast to the girl with an abusive father and yet they all lose their insecurities and problems when they're around each other. Their friendship seems genuinely real, and that is not easy to accomplish as well as something that I personally enjoy because good friends are not easy to find in literature or anywhere else.

These same childhood friends make a promise to each other to return to Derry if IT ever re-surfaces. Not surprisingly, this does happen and the honoring of this long-forgotten oath brings old friends back together to battle a childhood monster.

What I like about King, is that he doesn't make a world where everyone lives and things turn out perfect in the end. At least not all the time.

Sacrifices are made, and often demanded in his work with IT being no exception.


This story is propulsive, and although there is some definite padding (it is 1,000+ pages) the book does not feel overindulgent. There are more than enough interesting characters to use the pages and help flesh out their backgrounds.

It is also a very bittersweet novel, and I found the ending to be pretty damn sad. I'm not going to go into it for those who haven't or might want to read this book because if I waded through a plethora of pages and then some jack-ass gave away the finale I'd be more than a little pissed.

I'm not going to argue that King produces great literature, but the man can tell an excellent story. Like anyone else, some tales are better than others, but IT deserves a place at the top of the mountain for King as he weaves a tale of friendship, loss and fear that he will likely never top again.

-BDS

"Can I borrow your towel? My car just hit a water buffalo." - Chevy Chase, "Fletch"


Ahh, it's Friday again and the air is crisp and semi-cool for Austin, so let's recap the monumental achievements of the week which don't include new House speakers, mass kidnappings or presidential exploratory committees.

At 2 Dollar Productions, we cut right to the most crucial stories like:

Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes flew to Rome this week, and intend to get married in the romantic medieval castle of Odescalchi on the shores of Lake Bracciano.


Five hundred VIP guests are expected at the festivities, 150 of which will be flown in by Pulp Fiction actor and pilot John Travolta in his $125-million Boeing 707. Russell Crowe, Oprah Winfrey, Will Smith and his wife Jada Pinkett, Steven Spielberg and the Beckhams are expected to attend.

Following the ceremony, Katie will be locked in the castle dungeon until the honeymoon. Why Holmes didn't "lose" her passport or fake her own death, I'll never know.

One couple is coming together, but Jude Law and Sienna Miller have separated permanently citing "fundamental differences" for the end of their three-year relationship.


I guess you could call the willful shagging of homely nannies "fundamental differences." No reports have confirmed if the film "Alfie" had anything to do with the decision.

Emmitt Smith won "Dancing With The Stars" this week.



Although I never watched an episode of the hit show, I was rooting for Smith to wipe that shit-eating grin off of Mario Lopez's face. I don't despise A.C. Slater, however, I've seen too many pictures of him looking distressingly earnest lately to wish him well.

K-Fed supposedly scrawled this message on a bathroom stall after Britney filed for divorce:


The man is a true poet.

O.J. Simpson has written a book that speculates how, hypothetically, he could have killed his ex-wife and her friend, and that bastion of taste and class, Fox network announced plans to televise an interview with the former football star and Nordberg from "The Naked Gun."


Fox plans to broadcast a two-part interview with Simpson to discuss the issue.

Let me save you a bit of time so you don't have to tune in: There's nothing hypothetical about it - the Juice did it.

A good mood deserves a good image to end with and since we like thongs and attitude around here, let's go with:


Here's to service with a smile . . . And Happy Friday!

-BDS & JWS

Rumors are flying fast and furious that K-Fed has come out swinging in the divorce proceedings and has threatened to expose a sex tape with Britney Spears if she doesn't bend on her iron-fisted prenup.

I hope there was enough sexual innuendo in that opening sentence.


I have mixed feelings on this story. On one hand, I can't say I would shield my eyes from watching Britney get naked, assuming the video was shot before she let herself go and decided to talk to Matt Lauer.


My fear is that she will do or say something stupid on the tape, however, and that will make it impossible for me to ever find her sexy again.

I've seen a few clips from the duo's short-lived show, "Chaotic," and the level of intelligence displayed would not have earned them a membership in MENSA even if you combined their scores.

I always hate when I find someone attractive, but then listening to interviews or seeing them in certain clips causes me to chunk all that built-up erotic thinking out the window.

A few examples of this phenomenon include:

1) Anna Nicole Smith


2) Jennifer Love Hewitt


3) Jenny McCarthy - She's straddling the fence and hasn't gone completely over the other side. Thank goodness.



This Spears-Federline tape may never see the light of day, but I wouldn't bet against it. Until then, it remains anyone's bet on just what will be revealed and whatever flesh and fornication is exposed, I hope Britney keeps it classy.

But I tend to doubt it.

-BDS

Everyone has their own habits when they drink a little too much. And they are powerful habits. Some people absolutely have to go to Taco Cabana or Whataburger. Some people have to hear a certain song or band on the stereo. Some people have to place Viking horns on their head and take a bath. Hey, to each their own.

Personally, I like to sit on my balcony, smoke a cigarette, listen to Jazz and wax philosphical about any number of inane topics. I call it my "Mingus-Induced Solving the World's Minute Problems" time, but my lady friend calls it my "Being a Creepy Old Man" time. Either way, without further ado:

Let's talk about martinis that are shaken versus those that are stirred. I know two fun facts about James Bond...and I use the word 'fun' loosely. One, a martini that is shaken is just a very weak martini. Two, the reason that James Bond is famous is because a certain, semi-famous President let it be known that in his leasure time he liked to read spy novels written by a certain writer, Ian Flemming. (Appreciation points will be given to those who can tell me the President)

I have found a lot of to do being made about the latest installment of the James Bond movie franchise on the ole' interweb. It seems that there are more than a few sites that have dedicated themselves to an unfounded and irrational hatred toward Daniel Craig for being chosen as the next incarnation of 007.



Now, I'm no stranger to irrational hatred when it comes to beloved characters from novels being casted for the silver screen. I could not get on board with Robert Urich playing Spenser in the fantastic 80's television drama 'Spenser for Hire', nor could I agree with any of the choices of actors for Travis McGee after I had engulfed the entire John McDonald series in one lady-free, whiskey-laden holiday vacation in college. Also, I absolutely, fucking hate the new, non Richard Harris, Dumbledore in the last two Harry Potter movies.

However, the hatred of Daniel Craig seems unfounded to me. The most damning charges I've read are the fact that he's blonde and that he can't seem to properly operate a stick shift Ashton Martin. The second accusation seems the most ridiculous to me. It's as if the people leveling the charges are upset because the actor can't actually do what the character can.

Well. I've got news for you people and it may be shocking, but you need to hear it anyway. Anne Heche doesn't actually like men. And Neil Patick Harris...he wasn't a fucking doctor at the age of 16. And every actor who played James Bond, does not actually thwart plots of global domination and wear suits worth more than my life while scripting catchy one liners to entice hot women into a rousing game of "Where are my Knickers?" Sorry to disappoint.



Personally, I like to say that the whole James Bond mystique is a bit lost on me. The Sean Connery, Roger Moore-era movies are fun because of their inherint camp value now. The Dalton and Lazenbee flicks were dreck and the Bronsnan pictures were alright but had far too many special effects to illicit any sort of attachment to the story. That all being said, I saw every single film and enjoyed them all while I watched them.



The character of James Bond is 100% iconic and I feel a stong desire to see the new film in order to review it and refute the silliness put forth by the Bond purists and malcontents.

If nothing else, I can say that I loved the irreverance of this line from the Casino Royale Trailer:

Unkwnown Guy Playing a Bartender: "Would you like your martini shaken or stirred."

Bond: "Do I look like I give a damn?"

Well done James. I like your moxie and as such I'm up for the next re-invention of 007...even if Moneypenny isn't there this time around.

--JWS

(Our Review will be posted on Sunday after we see Casino Royal. Here's to hoping that Britain's greatest secret agent can complete the mission impossible and give new life to a wonderful franchise like Chistopher Nolan and Christian Bale gave to Batman. Although, to my own credit, I doubt that even a successful James Bond could create such a butchered comparison between 3 distinctly different franchises, like I just did. Yeaaahh Screwdrivers!)

Being a glutton for punishment, I decided to stop by Costco on my lunch break yesterday and although I'm not exactly sure what I expected, the reality far exceeded my imagination.


I have no problem with Costco on its own, however, it's the actual people shopping there that strain my nerves and force me to fantasize about mass destruction.

The real problem lies with people who have no awareness of their surroundings. This issue only gets magnified when you give these same bewildered beasts giant shopping carts that bulge with over-sized condiments and bunker-mentality quantities of beef jerky.


I have never been inside a store where nearly everyone shopping seems to find it perfectly reasonable to:

1) Come to an abrupt stop in the middle of aisles/open areas with people right behind them
2) Meander down the middle of aisles, thus making it impossible to go around them
3) Navigate their monstrous carts full of stuff like a wrecking ball, and display no remorse if a loaf of French bread nearly sodomizes you as they pass by like water buffalo


The experience left me thinking dangerous and unhealthy thoughts with most of them revolving around using my cart like a battering ram and knocking everyone in my path around like a soul-fulfilling real-world example of the bumper car ride at the fair.

You stop in front of me, you get rear-ended and pinned between my cart and yours.

Go at a snails pace down the center of the aisle, I bang your cart and topple it over. I might even rub your nose in the 3 lbs of Ketchup that is now lying on the floor.

Oh how fun it would be, and every time I am forced to go to Costco the image floods my brain as soon as I walk through the door.

This is easily the best fantasy I have where my clothes stay on for the duration.

-BDS

A post on another blogsite reminded me of a joke that I thought was funny, and it goes:

A busload of nuns goes off a cliff, and they are all standing at the pearly gates where Gabriel watches in front of a large fountain of holy water.


Sister Francis steps forward and Gabriel asks her for a confession. She says that she had a few impure thoughts and so Gabriel dunks her head into the fountain and tells her to pass through the gates.

Sister Ruth steps forward and tells Gabriel she once accidentally grazed a man's penis in a crowded line, so Gabriel submerges her hand in the fountain and tells her to pass forward.


As Sister Mary steps to the front, a huge commotion breaks out behind her and a nun is sprinting forward and knocking everyone aside to get to Gabriel.

She arrives huffing and puffing and Gabriel is shocked and says "What's the rush?"

The nun replies "I had to get here before Sister Mary sticks her ass in the fountain."

Tasteful I know.

-BDS

I was very skeptical when I was cajoled into seeing Brick because my lady friend has a bit of thing for Joseph Gordon Levitt...something about which I am also skeptical in general.



The whole idea of a bunch of highschool brats talking like hard-boiled anti-heroes and femme fatals just did not quite jive for me. However, I was pleasantly suprised once I sat down and watched it.



To be sure, there are moments in the film when the director really tries too hard to make the movie edgy and make JGL tougher than he can possibly be on screen. However, the film proceeds at a good quick pace, there is plenty of snappy, film noir-esque dialogue and an intriguing story line.

Also, what JGL lacks in physicality, he makes up for by being a truely sympathletic character who the audience can identify with and cheer for.

I'll spare everyone further analysis because to do so would ruin the movie for anyone who decides to see it. But, suffice to say, it was nice to be suprised by this film and all in all, I have a new found respect for Levitt and a new found desire to watch classic Film Noir.

--JWS

(Oh, and as a side note related to my counterpart's essay on Lust, a few good quotes:

On Sunday, we spent all morning playing football on the UT IM fields and afterwards, I had the most powerful craving for eggs, bacon, sausage and hashbrowns...and biscuits and gravy:

“He that but looketh on a plate of ham and eggs to lust after it hath already committed breakfast with it in his heart”
C.S. Lewis


For some reason I have remembered this quote from one of my baseball coaches and it still runs through my head to this day...usually when my lady friend refers to me lovingly as an "insensitive prick."

“The whole thing about the women is, they lust to be misunderstood”
Will Rogers


This quote stuck with me since I work in marketing and advertising.

“Society drives people crazy with lust and calls it advertising.”
John Lahr


And of course, you can not play any game of quotes without mentioning the most quotable man of the 20th century. (Most Quotable of All Time goes to Ben Franklin)

“Their insatiable lust for power is only equaled by their incurable impotence in exercising it.”
Winston Churchill

"Lust is a world of bewildering dimensions, for it is that power to take over the ability to create and convert it to a force. Curious force. Lust exhibits all the attributes of junk. It dominates the mind and other habits, it appropriates loyalities, generalizes character, leaches character out, rides on the fuel of almost any emotional gas - whether hatred, affection, curiosity, even the pressures of boredom- yet it is never definable . . . " - Norman Mailer, "The Prisoner of Sex"

Mailer was right about lust as it's a necessary, but tricky ingredient in love and relationships and life in general.

Personally, I'm a fan of lust. I cradle it. Sometimes I harbor it and nurse it. It can be extremely cathartic to finally release this emotion onto something or someone, to let it run roughshod over your behavior and tap into that primitive animal instinct which often leads people to act like degenerate jackals.

This is not always a beautiful act to behold.

Lust is not meeting at a Society for Endangered Woodland Owls fund-raiser, and then exchanging witty banter over a bland veggie tray.


Lust is noticing a woman vamped out at pulsating club, catching her eye and then finding her in the bathroom where no words are exchanged and the only sound is the bass through the walls and faint swishing tone that her dress makes as it gets hiked up over her boots.

Two different things entirely.

But lust can take almost any form, and it doesn't have to be sexual. When I've been dieting for awhile, I often have a powerful lust for chicken fried steak with cream gravy and mashed potatoes.


Again, it is not necessarily a beautiful thing when I fulfill this emotion with a trip to Threadgills, however, it is extremely satisfying in a gluttonously decadent way.

The frequency also varies considerably with lust as my chicken fried fetish comes now and again, but my lust for Monica Bellucci happens nearly everyday of the week and twice on Sundays.


Lust needs to roll into relationships as well. As Harold Ramis told Mark Harmon in the little-seen movie, "Stealing Home" (a personal film favorite that is not great, but important to me nonetheless), "Lust is a key ingredient . . . I know because my marriage has not a speck of lust left in it."


Making it with anyone for an extended period of time is tough. Trying to accomplish it without a shred of lust to mix into that relationship cocktail is recipe for disaster and likely to yield something putrid like a "Sex on the Beach" rather than a Crown and Coke.

Despite the pitfalls and traps, the destruction and disillusionment, a life without some good old-fashioned lust is not one I care to live.

Lust is an emotion of extremes, which helps balance out the usual forces that call for mediocrity and restraint. I'm no advocate for unrelenting lust, however, if the choice comes down to some or none at all, I will always err on the side of lust.

Every single time.

-BDS