Talk to me, baby.
Yeah you. What’s your name? “Gorgeous”? I thought so. Are you in film? You should be. No, not that kind. That’d be hot though. Sssssss! Hear that sizzle? That’s you-- hot!-- burning up my celly. But seriously: film.

Alright,.. time to get down and review a spooky CD for our extra-creepy Halloween issue. Hmmm. What the-- wait a minute! Vinnie, you idiot! This isn’t the new Whitesnake album! It’s Ten Foot Pole’s new jammy-jam, Bad Mother Trucker (Victory Records)! Oh well, I guess I’ll review this instead. Ah,.. here comes the poppy punk rock. The punchy beats, the rollicking guitar riffs, the snot-nosed wail-- all the essentials are here. Paying attention to the lyrics, I’m starting to notice the messages beneath the sound. There’s a lot of catchy storytelling in each track.

I was at a theater the other day to see Jackie Chan's new flick The Tuxedo. There was this really cool game there. It had a ramp shaped like a mountain, and, using a big handle, you had to roll a ball up ten individual little slopes without falling off the mountain. If you made it to the top, a lavish prize with a monetary value of about a buck awaited you. Best of all, even if you lose, you still get a rubber bouncing ball. Ten bucks and twenty balls later, I beat the shit out of that machine until my hands bled like that of a stigmata victim.

In The Transporter, Jason Statham (“Turkish” from Snatch) plays a man who transports anything for the right price, as long as you follow his rules. He soon finds out what happens when he breaks his own rules. There are major fight scenes, a killer chase and a very attractive Asian love interest for Turkish. But then the film comes to a screeching halt when the French police inspector shows up. This mush-mouthed bastard had whole scenes where I couldn't understand a fucking word he said! Was he speaking French? Did they forget the subtitles?

About a week ago, Debenski and I both noticed quick, scurrying blurs in the bathroom. He thought it was a roach. I thought it was a horse. Wayne declared, in his best lil' Dubya, that either this thing withdraws from our territory, or we would take quick and decisive action. Snap traps were bought. Peanut butter was the bait. It was now only a matter of time until the enemy wandered into this nourishing death sentence. Except this dude was quick, and our peanut butter was captured without activating our $1.97 death machine.

For over 50 years, one TV special has become as much a Halloween tradition as trick-or-treating itself. I am of course referring to It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown-- a story about a boy who trades trick-or-treating for waiting all night in a pumpkin patch for the mythical Great Pumpkin, who showers all devoted children with gifts. There’s also a dog next door that has a wild acid flashback that makes him think his doghouse is a WWI plane being shot down in France-- the typical Halloween tale. Hard to believe someone has never made any decent toys based on this classic.