The Fish
for 7 May 2001. Updated every WEEKDAY.
 
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Hogan's Run

Something I found out about Hogan was that he was a laborer for 15 years on the Harbor Bridge, painting it from end to end and starting over (bridge painting, like journalism, is one of those mindless repetitive tasks that is never really completed). Australian television did a documentary on the bridge, and there Hogan was, paint brush in hand, radiating star quality. They picked him up for tourism commercials — yes, the same tourism Crocodile Dundee complains about, as if he were the griping Qantas koala, in Hogan's initial scenes in Croc Dung in Los Angeles. Though his movies are best used to punish the kids with, one can say of Hogan's hide is that at least it's all real sincere, pre-melanoma, earned toiling in the blazing sun — as opposed to the tanning-bed induced orangeness of the Hollywood fancy-boy's pelt.

Best regards,

Richard von Busack
<Von@groucho.freedonia.com>

Von B.,

I included a link in "Hogan's Run" from somebody who thinks Hogan should go back to bridge painting. Maybe you missed it.

It should be obvious that I disagree. I'd like to see Paul Hogan slip into executive and CEO roles now that he's in the autumn of his career. Put him in a Rupert Murdoch biopic. So what if doesn't look a thing like Murdoch! He should've been cast as the impresario in Moulin Rouge. He'd be great as Nicole Kidman's boss.

That orange tinge Hollywood actors have comes from tanning beds? And here I've been thinking all along that screen makeup isn't was it used to be now that people whose last name isn't Westmore or Factor are troweling it on for a living.

If you do most of your celebrity sighting from the safety of your own home — and that's really the best place for it — there's a setting on most TVs now that will correct the orange skin tone of over 90% of the actors you see. Unfortunately it also turns the sky dark gray and makes the ocean run red with blood. But it's worth it. You feel less like whatever it is you're watching is taking place in a morgue and more like it's taking place in the End Times. Which makes the whole experience more realistic.

Slotcar H.

 
[Mr. McFeely Speedy Delivery My Ass]
 

Dear Mr. Hatebath,

I hate to be that guy..... Good old mad max really isn't aussie, he's yankee? I'll spare the details but he's really american.

Thugs and kisses,

Uncle Mippy
<m010102@usna.edu>

Nor were Russell Crowe and Guy Pearce born in Australia. The two stars of L.A.Confidential came into this world at Wellington, New Zealand, and Ely, England, respectively. All three, however, came up through the Australian film industry, made their marks Down Under before hitting Hollywood, and generally sound Australian and embody an Australian-ness that however macho generally falls short of Crocodile Dundee's.

OK, Uncle Mippy, back to your failing kiddie show.

Thugs, bones and harmony,

Slotcar H.

 
[Mr. McFeely Speedy Delivery My Ass]
 

Trouble, Right Here In River City

Is the notion of leaving the city behind hackneyed? Maybe. Dorothy Parker certainly thought so when she called Los Angeles 19 suburbs in search of a city (IIRC). But that's exactly what it's turned into. I'm in the middle of a home search myself, and the only thing that's affordable and non-bullet-ridden is in The Valley (tm) — exactly in the heart of suburban LA. But wait — is it? What if you could escape the city while never moving your easy chair and barbecue? That is, what if succession succeeds? What if Brooklyn rescinded its century-old attachment to Manhattan? This might be more of a tonic than people realize. Smaller = more responsive and more manageable.

Rob McMillin
<rlm@pricegrabber.com>

Dear Rob,

Let's get it straight right off the bat: Dorothy Parker is hackneyed beyond belief and why she made the Dodgers leave Brooklyn and move to LA (after that season in Sheboygan) is beyond any of us. And incidentally, the Valley is no more Los Angeles than Brooklyn is New York. Ask anyone.

Yours in cliches,

Mr. M

 
[Mr. McFeely Speedy Delivery My Ass]
 

Subject: exodus from the cities

Mr. Mxyzptlk —

In your columns on city and suburban life, you've unveiled the frail truth behind the majority of this nation's major cities — government officials complain about people leaving, but they aren't coming up with any solutions for the exodus to the suburbs. As a Denver suburb dweller who has escaped to college, I've read consistently about how Denver proper is having trouble keeping any residents outside of the 20ish urban hipster demographic in the city. Cincinnati is simply suffering the same fate as most other major cities: when people have the means to settle down and desire to do so, they leave for a place that has just about everything one could need or want, albeit in a highly unattractive and outright bland setting.

I had the good fortune to avoid the Denver public school system, but the gaping flaws in said school system often left me astounded. Rebuilding convention centers, building expensive homes, and ineffective methods of funding public school systems only increase this exodus to the suburbs. And it is obvious that the recent race riots and police brutality won't help Cincinnati, although Denver and Los Angeles (which I've also been a resident of in my short life) have had their problems with those issues too.

At least when I read about my home city from my small college town, I can always say this: at least we've got the Broncos instead of the Bungals (sic).

Colin Seiler
<seiler@grinnell.edu>

Dear Colin S.,

Your letter is filled with so many errors I don't know where to begin and will limit myself to just one correction: You did not escape to college; your parents escaped you by sending you to college. A small point, but a necessary one.

Knowledgeably yours,

Mr. M

 
[Mr. McFeely Speedy Delivery My Ass]
 

Man, Cincinnati sucks. I used to think it was cool because of Reds and Pete Rose. Now I think it totally sucks because of the Reds owner and Pete Rose. Thank God it is in Ohio.

Shill Biddingsley

Dear Shill,

They don't call it God's country for no reason. And now if Pete Rose would only accept Bud Selig as his personal Lord and savior.

Authoritatively yours,

Mr. M

 
[Mr. McFeely Speedy Delivery My Ass]
 



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 The Shit
Physical Strength and How to Obtain It, by Eugen Sandow
Bamboozled, A Spectacular New Film by Mr. Spike Lee
G. Beato's all-new Soundbitten
William Demarest, Sultan of Snarl, in The Lady Eve (1941), The Palm Beach Story (1942), and The Miracle of Morgan's Creek (1944)
George Wallace: Settin' The Woods On Fire, directed by Daniel McCabe and Paul Stekler
1995
Bobby Darin, Darin at the Copa (Atlantic)
Shinji-San in the floating world of indeterminate duration, by Peter Richardson
American Pharaoh: Mayor Richard J. Daley: His Battle for Chicago and the Nation, by Adam Cohen and Elizabeth Taylor
Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1996, Merge)
45, by Bill Drummond
Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards, Singing in the Rain (ASV)
Do you know of stuff that doesn't actively suck? Things so good they deserve to make the Shitlist? Send your suggestions to us.
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