In the end, CNN Grand Inquisitor Larry King did not, as we'd briefly dared to dream, douse himself in lantern oil and set his body aflame during his much-anticipated post-incarceration exclusive with Paris Hilton, as tantalizing as the prospect must have seemed after about thirty seconds of lobbing his softballs in the heiress's direction and watching them disappear into a dead-eyed abyss.
In HER FIRST TV INTERVIEW SINCE SHE GOT OUT OF JAIL, hotel heiress Paris Hilton sat down with CNN's Larry King for a very special Larry King Live last night. The articulate, multi-talented businesswoman appeared contrite, well-prepared, and — ah, who are we kidding, it's Paris Hilton. Larry King nailed her on a Bible question. Here are some highlights.
Basic cable news has never enjoyed a prouder, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"* moment than when MSNBC anchor Mika Brzezinski, soul-sick over the prospect of tainting journalism with yet another update about Paris Hilton, shredded her script in protest, plunged a handy letter opener into the heart of nearby instigator Joe Scarborough, then finally defenestrated herself, restoring dignity to a noble profession debased by obsessive celebrity coverage. Inspired by this display, CNN's Larry King is expected to drench himself in kerosene and self-immolate three minutes into tonight's much-anticipated exclusive with the heiress, leaving Hilton to cry her crocodile tears to his flame-engulfed, utterly unsympathetic form.
So it's shiny. It's new. It turns sideways or something! But also you can only send 200 texts a month, which is patently ABSURD, and it doesn't have instant messenger. So it is essentially a tiny, pretty Mac brick that takes phone calls. TAN and Blakeley asked the peoples that you meet on the street so that the coolhunters can work from home today.
So overcrowded is the summer movie marketplace that the only way to distinguish one's upcoming blockbuster product from the blowing-shit-up competition is to hit the talk show circuit and recreate some of the fun that awaits fickle moviegoers upon their next trip to the multiplex.
One of the joys of summer in New York is that everyone you hate goes to the Hamptons on the weekends. Another joy is catching a classic movie on Monday nights in Bryant Park. Still, getting a spot on the lawn can be difficult, what with everyone competing for the same space at the same time. Our Nick McGlynn was there last night, and picked up some valuable tips.
· The Japanese are developing a way to make model train sets even less fun than they already are.
· John Krasinski as the new Fletch? As long as it's not Braff, sure, we're on board.
· George Clooney, cooperative citizen of the quiet Italian lakeside town his tourist-attracting presence is slowly destroying.
· Gay Bomb: The Porno Flick.
· Paris is out on Tuesday. Look busy.
On Thursday, June 21, 2007, the strapping young lads and lasses of Gawker Media took the field at Central Park's Great Lawn and engaged in fearsome competition with the salmon-hued staffers of the New York Observer. Some of the finest softball in the history of the game was played there on Field 6.
Even though the above video lacks conclusive evidence that Pamela Anderson's nipple was briefly visible on last night's episode of Conan, its Zapruder-like examination of the footage is amazingly effective in making us aware of how many precious seconds of our lives we were wasting trying to catch a split-second glimpse of a famous person's areola. We were especially ashamed about the state of our lives while expending a full three minutes trying to set the slider precisely on the :27 mark during our seventh viewing, a frustrating effort which still didn't produce the results we'd hoped for.
· If you find The Squirrelpult too upsetting, Cow Rescue should restore your faith in your fellow man's capacity for animal-related good. [via BWE]
· No matter how old Harrison Ford looks these days, his Indiana Jones LEGO figure will always let you remember him as the strapping Raiders of the Lost Ark adventurer with whom you first fell in love.
· Yet another blow to your belief in the total authenticity of everything you see on reality television shows.
The Hurty Elbow blog bravely risks an immediate shutdown by Disney's lawyers (or worse) by exposing their Pixar division's incredibly valuable trade secrets on the internets; enjoy the next 35 seconds knowing that by the time you reach the end of their exposé, its creators may already be dead at the hands of a hitman who will go to the grave disavowing any connection to John Lasseter or Bob Iger. Also, be warned: The clip contains a spoiler that may ruin your upcoming viewing of Ratatouille.
Hey, have you heard about The Vision Forum's annual Father and Daughter Discipleship Retreats, which include "unity" events such as "daughters shaving their daddies" and "daughters dressing their daddies?" Probably not, right? That's because, no matter how much rent you have to pay or how many passed-out, head-injured bums you have to pole-vault over in order to get to the subway stop in the morning, you get to be hundreds of miles away from this kind of sick perversity. Praise the Lord!
It's been a good run, but I think it's safe to say that all those parodies of "The Sopranos" series finale have finally been consigned to the dustbin of history. We're too shocked to even come up with a Bill Clinton comare joke. Hillary, Hillary... now you have to apologize for this and your Iraq vote! What were you thinking?
If you have balls, they were probably sweating their asses off in yesterday's heat. Fortunately, the frigid air of the multiplex provides some relief in this summer of the sequel. Richard Blakeley and the Cajun Boy headed over to Times Square's AMC Empire 25 theater to take the pulse of moviegoers who caught the second installment of Marvel's latest cinematic franchise.
