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If Shakespeare
were alive
today he'd be
writing
for the movies.
If we've heard it
once
we've heard it
too
many times, and if we
hear
it again
we're
going to
crush
somebody's toes with a hammer and a wedge.
Why is it that every apologist for the MPAA feels
compelled
to legitimize the industry that puts the mahimahi on
the table by dragging the greatest
writer in the English language into it? What makes
scribes on the entertainment beat
think that if the man who wrote "Poor wretches that
depend on greatness' favour, dream
as I have done, wake, and
find
nothing," were
around
right now
he'd be heading to parties
at the Mansion with other immortal bards like Joe
Eszterhas and Cameron Crowe? If Shakespeare were truly
all that would he really want his name attached
by some
15-percenter to a
package
deal with Helen Hunt? Have the collective baby
noises film critics cooed over
Shakespeare
in Love rendered them permanently bard-batty?
Or was it the one-two truncheon blow of
Annette Bening in Richard III and Jessica Lange
in Titus that softened their
skulls?
In the interest of making the boilerplate copy of
cheap cultural analysis sing anew,
we've got a follow-up question: Even if Shakespeare
were alive and waiting for a
call pool-side in development hell, what would other
Elizabethan writers be doing today?
That is the question. We've knocked out the
answers in the classic form of the
reflex Shakespeare assertion so that hacks on deadline
can cut-and-paste and yet still give
the impression of having fresh insight into the
current cultural milieu. Where Entertainment
Weekly sucks so suck we:
We're the last to know, it seems, but wrestling is
fake. Oh, not the matches, we figured
that out months ago. But even when wrestlers tell the
truth you can expect a steel chair
to the back of the head. Case in point, Wladek
"Killer"
Kowalski's shocking denunciation of his former
student, Joanie
"Chyna" Laurer's autobiography, If They Only Knew.
"She's making all that bulls**t up,"
the Killer tells SLAM! Wrestling in an exclusive
interview. "She lies and lies and lies."
Kowalski, whose other students include current stars
Prince Albert, Perry Saturn, and Triple
H, runs a professional wrestling school in the Boston
area and was a major star himself
throughout the 50s, 60s, and 70s. Chyna's new book
skips over her years with Kowalski, and
now that she's risen to the heights of WWF
respectability, she's become a high heel, of sorts,
forgetting the people who put her there. Like any
star politician or actor, reinventing yourself
for the A-list sometimes means dropping the B and C
listers who helped you (please see any list of Clinton
indictees or Bush II's former friend, Gov. Frank
Keating). Not that wrestlers
rise all that high in society's eyes anyway, but
apparently, even when getting thrown into a
ring post or getting busted wide open on a steel
stairway, the politics of "in" crowd and "out" crowd
are universal. "I introduced her to Shane McMahon, the
son of Vince McMahon ... I
said 'WCW is interested in this girl. Why don't you
guys take her?' I talked to him twice
again and he said, 'We will hire her.'" Chyna refuses
to speak to Kowalski now and makes
fun of his accent in her book, referring to the
Polish
Pin King as a
"scheming" and "nasty old man." "What a big liar she
is. She had nothing interesting to put
in there (the book) so she made up a whole bunch of
garbage," Kowalski says. Former
students Saturn and Albert come back to the school and
credit Kowalski, but he says as
soon as Chyna signed the deal with WWF she cut all
ties with him, refusing even to speak
to him when they run into each other backstage,
although Chyna isn't the first to dis the
old master. "The other schmuck, Triple H," says
Kowalski, "he forgot, you know, where he
came from.
MSNBC's Brian Williams called it "extraordinary."
The Washington Post ran it
on the front page. It's the
story
that has all the beltway agog. The lid popping, stop
the presses, banner headline? Well, Clinton and Gore
sat down after the election for
a face-to-face meeting to blame each other for Gore's
loss. Gore said Clinton's
scandalous tenure in the people's house set him back
and Clinton thought Gore
should have run on the Clinton Administration's Looks
Great On Paper record
of achievement. The
entire story is
second-hand,
from anonymous sources close
to both men, sources who did not even sit in on the
meeting. It has no primary quotes
and no comment from either Clinton or Gore and does
nothing but reiterate an argument without advancing
it. It doesn't even further the argument nor
illuminate anything about it. Why all the buzz for
what is nothing more than an official anecdote?
Simply this the two men finally confirmed what
pundits had been arguing about for the
last 18 months. Which is, of course, why the story is
considered extraordinary in
Washington circles. After all how many times are the
pundits right? A correct
call is well worth celebrating.
Some might point out that most of these same people
made many silly calls all year
long (just ask Wen Ho Lee), not the least of which was
"Gore Wins!", or their current
Try To Forget We Said That line that "there won't be
any honeymoon for George Bush, Jr."
It's week three of the Clinton ex-Presidency and in
all the furor over pardons handed out to influential
crooks, one question remains: Who pardoned Mike
Barnicle? The
disgraced
former Boston Globe columnist now hosts the
second half of Chris Matthews's
Hardball, a show we now only half like.
Barnicle, who stole jokes from George Carlin
and published them as his own, was bounced off the
Globe and his regular spots on
MSNBC
after his second infraction. Perhaps it's not so bad,
since Barnicle is now a TV pundit, meaning neither
truth nor competence are job qualifications.
Barnicle's downfall turned around during John F.
Kennedy, Jr's death, when, as a Kennedy family friend,
he became the de facto spokesmen for the throng
of journalists outside the Kennedy compound. James
Wolcott, in his pundit pest control piece in this
month's Vanity Fair, also points out that
Barnicle's numerous appearances with pal Don Imus and
Imus' mystifying credibility with East Coast journos
helped turn Barnicle's pilfering image around, so much
so that he's now considered presentable to MSNBC's
political junkie fan base. Or maybe not as a quick
look at MSNBC's
Hardball
page gives no mention of him. Well, would you
brag?
In all the hullabaloo over Tom Cruise and Nicole
Kidman's split, one remnant of
bigotry, left over from our torch-wielding,
pogrom-committing
forebears, has reared its ugly head: When in doubt,
blame Hubbard.
MSNBC's Jeannette Walls set the ugliness in motion
with an
article speculating
that Tom and Nicole broke up over Nicole's
dissatisfaction with
the Church of Scientology. "I was raised Catholic and
a big part of me is still a
Catholic girl," the Titian-haired beauty declared,
adding that it is "Catholicism
which will keep me going," and strongly implying that
she wanted to raise
her children within the Church of Rome. From there,
the legions of Scientology
haters, who never seem to tire of their particular
crusade, jumped into the fray.
"Maybe the greedy cult do not like Nicoles' assets
going to Catholic
charities (if true) when the church may plan to go for
the faith based money,"
averred
Feisty <not@inthislife>, in a characteristic
Usenet comment.
Another
ornery cuss laid into Hubbardites as hypocrites,
while others expressed a schadenfreudian hope that the
divorce might
cause a major schism in the Los Angeles-based
religion. A waggish, heavily
scare-quoted
followup
story in the New York Post dripped
sarcasm in every sentence. We were sorry to see even
our own
Masked
Moron
join in the pile-on over at our sister site. Maybe
it's just that we've always wanted
to become "clears," but before everybody rides the
Dianeticians too hard, we'd
like to note that, according to Nicole's words,
Scientology isn't the
only freakazoid cult involved here. Because even if
the children aren't raised
in the faith that believes in Word Clearing,
Dreamballs, Engrams, and Enthetas,
they will be raised in the one that believes
Saint
Isidore invented the Internet, the Virgin Mary
ascended bodily into
Heaven, and you eat pieces of Jesus every Sunday
morning. That Roman
Catholicism is a cult every bit as wacky as the Church
of Scientology may
not be a particularly new revelation, but it will be
examined in some detail
in tomorrow's Suck. Believers and non-believers alike
are cordially invited
to find out the truth.
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