The Money Shot

So a few weeks ago I actually sat down and watched the MTV Movie Awards because they've had a couple of amusing pieces in the past (e.g., Gollum's Acceptance Speech when he beat out Dobie the House Elf for Best Animated Character) and the occasional spontaneous moment (e.g., uh....nevermind). Anyway, this year was every bit a snooze as that other movie awards show, even with Jimmy Fallon hosting. (Fallon did a pointless skit pretending to be Hayden Christensen, so I guess that means he's not gay either.) Anyway, just to show you how truly dreadful this year was, Tom Cruise was given a Lifetime Achievement Award. Now, with the possible exception of Katie Kate Holmes, I'm possibly the only person on this planet who does not care what Tom Cruise likes to do or have done to him in bed, or by whom or what for that matter. For my part, I can never forget Pauline Kael's description of him in her review of Top Gun: a nautilized dinky thing. But in accepting this prestigious honor, Cruise began to talk about how proud he was to be a part of an industry that, in the face of death and destruction and injustice and inhumanity all around, provided us, the mindless sheep audience, with entertainment: to distract us, to make us laugh, to cheer us on. And in the immortal words of Dorothy Parker, Tonstant Weader Frowed Up. Never have I felt so chemically imbalanced. Later I learned that Nine Inch Nails, as estimable a band as you're likely to find, were told their services on the show would not be needed when they suggested that as part of their performance they might, you know, make some reference to The Troubles. So Tom wasn't just carrying water for himself and the Church of Scientology, he was also shilling for Viacom as well. Give that man a bucket of bronzed popcorn! (P.S. NIN's The Hand That Feeds, the song MTV nixed, is available for download as a Garageband file.)

Speaking of La Cruise's own troubles, while I may not care who he sleeps with, I take a keen interest in who Rob Thomas sleeps with. And that's the latest rumor, that Rob Thomas's wife caught him and Cruise in bed together, and while Cruise and the C. of S. were trying to hush it up, Mrs. Thomas was beginning to unravel, and thus the rush to marriage. (And I seem to have read in one of these items something about Holmes collecting $8 million if she actually goes through with the wedding: isn't that like a reverse pre-nup?) Anyway, I personally don't think any of this is true, since the timing of the rumor seems off and it mirrors too closely the whole David Bowie-Mick Jagger story, but I am happy to repeat it. And the Rob Thomas bit is particularly tasty, since these days he seems to be channeling mid-career George Michael. (Although, to be fair, Thomas has talent.) The latest fillip is that Thomas told an Australian radio station that he would never fuck a Scientologist, and certainly not Cruise; Brad Pitt, however, was another matter altogether. (Personally, I think Brad Pitt has been so last year for the last few years; but Jake Gyllenhaal....oh, note to Jake: if people can tell whether you're circumcised or not, you're probably underdressed.)

Finally, getting back to the anaesthetic properties of TV these days, I watched Britney and Kevin for 30 seconds last night before I realized that Britney isn't nearly as smart as Jessica, and then switched to Bravo just in time to catch a promo for Being Bobby Brown, where Brown rushed the Dalai Lama screaming, "Hey! I'm married to Whitney Houston!"

Who put George Bush in the White House? We did, folks. We the People.

That seductive smirk, that smouldering look back, that metal pole up your ass - is there anything you won't do to entertain me?