Punk Kids

The aftermath of two 16-year old idiots racing in Sherman Oaks.

1. The two sixteen year olds who were racing a Range Rover and a Mercedes Benz in front of Bro Joe and Courtney’s house. The photograph pretty much tells the whole story of how these two noodnicks decided to play Mario Andretti and plowed into a concrete power pole and a wooden light pole, severely injuring a family who were crossing the street. After they had committed this act of carnage, they reportedly tried to intimidate the family and all the witnesses by screaming at them. I always thought 16 was too young an age to be eligible for a driver’s license (I didn’t get one until I was 18), and these two maniacs would seem to be poster boys for that cause. I only hope that the family that they incapacitated wins a hefty settlement from their youthful stupidity (and perhaps the lads should receive some guidance from the county authority as well) so that maybe their Mumsies and Dadsies will realize that they aren’t nearly ready to be screeching through the streets in expensive cars that they aren’t even close to being ready to handle. I’ve never known anyone to commit this kind of mayhem sitting on a Metrolink Bus, and that’s the most glamorous transportation they should be taking for quite a while.

The low point of this year's Oscar telecast.

2. Kristen Stewart. I’m still doing some housekeeping after the Oscar telecast, and I was appalled by Kristen’s too-wooden-to-be-called-wooden performance introducing a montage of horror movie clips alongside a square-jawed, soulless young man who I’m told appeared with her in some vampire movies that I am 25 years too old to be in the demographic range to be interested by. I like Kristen as an actress (I thought she was terrific in the obscenely underrated Adventureland) but at the Oscars she looked like a high school student who was giving an oral report that she had put together while having her Fruit Loops that morning. She wasn’t helped by the scriptwriters who had her inform us that the last horror film to win an Oscar was The Exorcist in 1973, and then include a string of movies in the montage (Jaws, The Silence of the Lambs, Misery) that had won Oscars since then. This train wreck is hardly an isolated instance in Academy Awards history when the Academy tries to show how trendy and “now” they are by shoving some unprepared flavors of the month onto a stage where they proceed to do their best impression of a deer caught in some headlights. In this case, I only wish the headlights belonged to the two idiots who smashed up the front of Bro Joe and Courtney’s house. It wouldn’t be pleasant for them, but it would put an end to my misery.

Fargo's special talent.

3. The evil genius Lars Fargo, with whom I attended the memorial tribute to Don Timm that I wrote about last week. I arrived at the event attired in a suitably somber black suit, whereas Fargo was dressed in a spectacular ensemble that looked like he was about to pose for the cover of GQ magazine. Then Fargo let down the big hammer by informing me that he had picked up his entire outfit at a garage sale for a fraction of what a normal human being like me who buys his clothes at a clothing store would purchase it for. I don’t know why I was impressed by Fargo’s tales of garage sale glory because I don’t think that he owns a possession that hasn’t been purchased at a garage sale. And if that suggests that he lives in squalor, you couldn’t be more wrong: his palatial estate on Death Skull Island contains all the wonders of the Orient, mostly delivered from his pickup truck after being retrieved from a nearby dumpster. I don’t quite comprehend how Fargo has managed to collect such treasures from crawling through landfills just prior to them being covered over with topsoil, but he has an absolute gift for it. So the next time I am contemplating doing any home decorating, I am following Fargo along on one of his garage sale excursions. I’ll be sure to find some cool stuff that would otherwise be crammed into a recycling bin, and Fargo will have someone to split the cost of gas. Everybody wins.

Comeback Kid Misty LaRue

4. Misty LaRue who returned to Facebook after deactivating her account because she was afraid that it was too much of a distraction from following her dream of a career as a pole dancer. Misty did her best to avoid the siren lure of Facebook, but felt that telling the world that Tuesday was Taco Night or of imparting the story of finding her “Mom Jeans” in the back of a closet and her horrified reaction at seeing her reflection after trying them on was too important to deny the world. I always have a horrified reaction when I see one of Misty’s comments, and yesterday was no exception when she saw my post mentioning the Academy Award broadcast and commented that I should have performed in a musical number billed as “Lord of the Dense”. That was a typical example of Misty’s side-splitting wit that you usually have to watch an old episode of Hee Haw to see the likes of. I can only add that her reentry into Facebook may be a loss to the world of pole dancing, but it is also a loss to the world of Facebook.

Alex hosting Thanksgiving

5. Alex Fernandez who was my Facebook-assigned Best Friend of the Day (BFD) yesterday. Alex is a rarity amongst my actor-friends in that he frequently actually has work as an actor. This puts him in the financial position of being able to host a large retinue of sponges for an annual fete every Thanksgiving, and since the only thing I hate about eating is having to shell out any money for the food I’m shoveling into my face, I am a frequent guest to Alex’s annual turkey giveaway. It is always a delightful gathering except for Alex’s custom of giving a lengthy speech about his life and how much he appreciates the company of his friends before we can dive into the cranberry sauce. It’s not that it’s not a good speech (it’s always very touching), and God knows most of our waistlines can stand a minute or two’s delay from pouring the entire contents of a gravy boat down our gullets. But I resent the fact that Alex’s house is packed to the rafters when the last social event I tried to throw was canceled due to lack of interest. Some of the rest of us would like to be the speechgiver from time to time, Alex, and if that means that I have to shell out the cash to throw a can of Spam at you people so that I can tell you how much I dislike you all, so be it. It may not be the heart-tugging valentine of one of Alex’s orations, but at least it will be honest.