Thighs Wide Shut

and sevenfleen zillion more snaps of The Beatles, Donovan, Mike Love of the Beach Boys, Mia and ‘Dear’ Prudence Farrow, and other hot and hairy peoples in India (where the White Album was born), from one of our mos flavorite newish (to us) sites: Child of The Moon

Chris Rock
Apollo Theater
September 12, 2008

the mos hilarious thing we encountered during the taping of Chris Rock’s new HBO comedy special Kill The Messenger at the famed Apollo Theater (saw two Gorillaz shows there back in the ’06) had nothing to do with comedian twat so ever. yes, his stand-up show was as funny as one rib, and even dough his material seemed about as fresh as Fresh Step® Litter (politics, white vs black, black vs white, black women, black everything), not a single soul could resist the comedic charms of the man who practically owns the words ‘f&ck’, ‘n$gger’ and ‘titties’. but like we said befloor, it wasn’t even close to topping the laughter caused by something else we saw before he even took to the stage. the audience in attendance that night appeared to be very Anglo-Saxon (probably a nice perk from working at HBO we guess) and some of them juss weren’t prepared for the unannounced sirprize warm-up act: Rakim (of ‘Eric B and’ fame). he got things going with a nice lil set of tunes we all know and love (with a lil DJing from Aaron LaCrate), but apparently hip-hop isn’t for everyone. some dude in the row in front of us, put his head down and covered his ears for the entirety of Rakim’s performance (think of him as a calmer version of the father from that Twisted Sister video). look, we’ve all been to shows with openers that made us want to slit our eyes and ears out and off (for us it was Marilyn Manson in ’94, opening for NIN), but c’mon pal, grow a pair. or at least get a lil soul, you ignorant bastage, even if you have to paint yerself black like Neil Diamond did in The Jazz Singer (a muss click)

the Emmys blow and you know it, but this ad above (click it to expand) doesn’t. horton reads a who’s who here [AdFreak via FotCCUFS]

there’s the Gregorian calendar, the Chinese calendar, the Jewish calendar, the Mayan calendar (the world ends in 2012, hip-hop hooray!), even a lunar Thigh calendar, but you can keep all those useless timekeepers, as there’s only one yearly schedule that really turly, madly, deeply matters: the NFL schedule. for us the new year started last Thursday nite, as our beloved Skins were outplayed, outclassed and OutKasted by the Giants, and in turn, boring the shiz outta America, and even though we’re still sour from that nite, life has begun again cause FOOTBALL’S RETURNED (!!!) and everything else can lick lamb fries. Sunday was so glorious, watchin all the 1 o’clocks at our ye favorite dumphole (we still don’t understand how you West Coasters watch games at 10 in the morn), and hispecially since we drafted Michael Turner in 3 outta our 4 leagues, and didn’t take Tom Brady in any of em

OK, so there’s more to life than fooball, like buying the log flume from Coney Island’s recently deceased Astroland for $199,000 (hopefully it includes the water that probably hasn’t been changed since 1962). there’s several items for sale, so get em while the gettins gettin. we say good riddance to this dumphole, as they never had rides worth riding, cept The Cyclone, which of course is staying put

there was another bit of closure that edward james almos brought tears to our thighs. Siskel & Ebert & Roeper & Phillips is no mo. their final show was a few weeks back, but their final review was of Vincent Chase’s Medellín on last nite’s season pre-shmear of Entourage (a show that’s about as fresh and original as Anna Faris’ lips, but of course we’ll watch every single episode). taking over Ebert & Roeper & co at At The Movies are two nepotismised Bens, Lyons (Jeffery’s son) and Mankiewicz (his grandfather Herman won an Oscar for co-penning the Citizen Kane script). we watched the Bens’ first episode with an open mind, but weren’t that impressed (these two guys are more apt for the Entourage audience). we don’t want to bash our fellow critics, so we’ll juss quote what someone else said: Lyons is such an empty vessel [that] Richard Roeper is Pauline Kael by comparison. This is supposed to be At The Movies, not Rated K: For Kids By Kids. luckily there’s news that Roeper & co will return to TV, and we’ll be the first to welcome it back with open arms, and of course thighs. the Bens’ version of At The Movies is still being filmed in Chicago, so Lyons and Mankie will be attending the same screenings that Ebert & Roeper & co are. they all caught The Women last week, and according to The Sun-Times, their ‘exchanges were cordial and friendly‘. damn, we were hoping for poo being flung, or for this headline in the Trib: THERE WAS BE BLOOD!

the Bens weren’t the only duo we took in this weekend, although they were the only unfunny ones. after much delay and malaise on our parts, we finally saw the comedy stylings of Flight of the Conchords‘ Mel, aka Kristen Schaal, and her partner Kurt Braunohler. we’re usually not so big on stand-up comedy, but they did actually make us laff, and how could they not, considering how hilarious Mel’s face is (we mean that in a not mean way cause her face rules, like the cider house). these two kids named Gabe & Jenny opened for K&K, and we’d bone them both cause they also tickled our funny bones. there was also some singer-comedienneee and she’s like a sorta funny Maggie Gynehhahahlllall and that was that

[mo photos from VermiciousKnid]

we also hit up the Buckminster Fuller: Starting with the Universe eggzibit @ The Whitney. dude is the effin da man, even if many of ideas never became a reality. no one else could rock tetrahedrons, octet trussesess, dymaxion thingies (see above) and geodesic domes like R Bucky did! w/o his visionary innerversion visions Epcot Center would be the lamest place on Earth. oh wait, it is, herspecially since Captain EO retired. and can you imagine if his domed stadium for the Brooklyn Dodgers was built? if the owner had found some land in which to put it on they wouldn’ta left for LA and the world would certainly be a better place. oh hell/oh well

of course we gotz our eats on this weekend, and after drooling whilst reading this TONY review of the new hip eatery for clogging the artery calle
d Delicatessen, we immediately ran out da house and tried the Reuben Fritters, Cheeseburger Spring Rolls and Chicken In A Bucket (all described in delicious detail above)! we beyond vouch for all three, although next time we may juss get two orders of the spring rolls and fritters. here sum photos of the hiper than thou restaurant. we cleansed all that grease down with some corn ice cream @ Cones, and we’re happy to report that not only was it yummsicle, but we haven’t had any corn poopies yet!

before we go, all we want to say is that Jelena Jankovic‘s moon pie face scares us

and oh yeah, we struggled to watch all of about 8 seconds of the VMAs. we’re either officially too old to care anymo or MTV blows more than Colon Blow. somehow wethinks both are tru

it’s the end of the world as we know it
and all we can say is…

Spotted: Connor Paolo’s X-Ray nipples

Spotted: tons o’ laces on Nate’s clothing, including his chest AND crotchial area

Spotted: Tinsley Mortimer, who is supposedly some important NYC socialite that we’re suppose to recognize and/or supposedly suppose to care about

Spotted: Serena’s grandmother, actin mo like Max Devlin and less like the Devil, which makes about as much sense as Rudy Giuliani’s presidential campaign

Spotted: Shelley Johnson and her new Bobby Briggs. Sadly Nate’s dad is no Major Briggs

Hearded: ‘I’m Chuck Bass‘ should be the new ‘I Love You‘

Gossip Girl‘s blah-zay season 2 pre-shmear was about as unspectacular as season 1’s finale, and twas about as lively as Blake Lively (read: she’s boring, and sucks, and keeps doing dumb things she can’t explain to her even more boring boyfriend, Dan ‘Uh Uh Uh’ Homefries). Gossip Girl the show can never live up to Gossip Girl the hype. And that’s OK with us, juss as long as they keep rollin out posters like these

Newbie watcher Time Werespanko said it bestest: ‘Gossip Girl is staggeringly shitty in a way that is delicious. It is a trainwreck of horrible writing that simply refuses to stop crashing. I’m at a loss.‘

lettuce pray that the second and juss revealed, the last(!!!!!!!!!SH!T!!!!!!!!!!) season of Flight of the Conchords doesn’t suffer the same diarrhea diorama