They'll probably blame their own gaffe on Obama.

Best part of the clip is near the end, when someone off camera begins whistling "If I only had a brain".

Interior - Leonard Nimoy's dressing room. Feet up on his dressing table, wreath of laurels on his head, Nimoy is nursing some sort of drink from a coffee mug. Suddenly, William Shatner barges into the room, script in hand.

Shatner: Damnit all! (waves script in air) Have you read this crap!
Nimoy: Mm-hm.
Shatner: Ancient Greeks with mind powers? A midget rides me like a horse? Are they out of their minds?
Nimoy: Completely.
Shatner: I thought the Melvin Belli episode was bad enough, but this...and the one about your brain being kidnapped-
Nimoy: That should've tipped you off, Bill.
Shatner: What?
Nimoy: Gene Coon wrote that episode thinking that there'd be no way in hell Freiberger would greenlight it, but he did.
Shatner: Say...is there any chance we could get Roddenberry back to replace this schlamiel?
Nimoy: Nah. He's still trying to shop that Gary Seven series over at Universal. (takes another drink)
Shatner: Vodka?
Nimoy: Uh-huh.
Shatner: It's a bit early, isn't it? Even for you.
Nimoy: Every day it's just a little bit earlier. Even for me.
Shatner: This Fred Freiberger guy...he's got a lot to answer for.
Nimoy: Look on the bright side, Bill. At least you get to make out with Nichelle.
Shatner: Huh?
Nimoy (lazily flips through his own script): Scene 35..."Captain Kirk and Uhura kiss."
Shatner: Really? (brightens up) Hot diggity dog! Fred who? See you on the set! (leaves dressing room)
Nimoy: Jackass. (takes another drink) Wait 'til he reads the space hippie script...

     The doctor carefully placed the stomach in a small, white-enameled pail to be taken upstairs to the toxicologists. The brain, too, would have to go through the routine of the medical examiner's office. Statistics would show how many homicide victims during the year were under the influence of alcohol when they died.
     "How about lunch today?" inquired Detective Kilkenny. "If you're not tied up, maybe we could talk some more about this while we eat."
     "I think I can make it," said Dr. Rosenkohl. "I've got one more autopsy, but I ought to finish by noon, unless its an especially tough one ..."

Ah! Morgue small talk. So jaded. I usually make lunch plans while someone is juggling brains and stomachs right in front of me.

A "professional Continental" (whatever that means) is found shot dead in a woman's New York penthouse. And there are a believable number of suspects, too. From the woman herself - who used to be lovers with him until he moved out in favor of someone younger - to her husband - with whom she's been separated from for over a year. There are plenty more, and normally I'd be annoyed with such a large cast of characters, but Blochman is careful to introduce them a little at a time and give them very distinctive personalities. It seems there's a whole lot of soap opera drama going on between the lot of them than just a murdered Continental in the coop.

     "I guess I've got it coming to me," she said. "Go ahead. Say some more."
     "What, for instance?"
     "Anything. Anything true. It's the truth that hurts, isn't it? Just rub in the salt."
     "Prompt me."
     "Oh, say I'm a cheap, double-crossing slut, a bitcvh without the honesty of a two-dollar trollop."
     "Not bad. Go on."
     "That I'm really the one that deserved killing."
     "You're doing fine. What else?"
     "I'd better leave something for you to say. I've said all I wanted."

The book comes across as a little dry at times - more police procedural than pulp. But its still mildly entertaining.

Who: Dr Leslie Arzt
What: Oceanic Flight 815 Survivor

How: Minutes after throwing one of the most hilarious hissy fits to Hurley, Mr Know-It-All here managed to blow himself up with sweaty 150 year-old dynamite.

He blowed up real good.

Surreal though it was, it did give Hurley one of the funniest lines in the show.

   
     She was a dish - almost six feet of fluid curves flowing in a glove-tight black dress. It clung to swelling hips, hugged a flat stomach; it dropped carelessly low at the neckline, disclosing quite a bit of what some term cleavage, others refer to only in whispers and I considered - anatomically, of course - merely the dark line dividing twin answers to a director's dream of busty competition for the established stars. Long black hair; full, sensual lips and those frank, dark eyes which seemed to dare, invite, plead and demand all at the same time ... She indicated a chair; I sat down. When she pulled another one close to mine she seated herself gracefully and crossed, long, bare, tempting legs, one of which began to swing slowly in rhythm with my clicking eyeballs.

Charlie Wells - like David Gerrity - appears to be another acolyte of Spillane's, and I don't say that like its a bad thing. Its been awhile since I've read something like this. Wells has got his snappy tough guy patois down nicely.

The Last Kill is the story of Steve Lee - a private detective pounding the streets of the concrete jungle of, erm...Memphis(?) in search of the guy - or guys - who killed a friend of his - a harmless inoffensive little yegg by the name of Sammie. Sammie's not had the best of lives to begin with. And this weighs heavily on Steve as he begins his search.

     No, Sammie, you didn't have a chance...not when your old man got drunk enough one night to decide he needed a wife, then borrowed money for the J.P., beat a bartender out of a fifth, grabbed the drunken bag destined to be your mother by the arm - just giving her time to re-button her blouse, undone five minutes before by the searching hand of one of your father's buddies - and dragged her off down the street, both of them singing and cursing and raising thirty kinds of hell until they hit the J.P.'s house and shut up long enough to say, "I do."

His search leads him to his own inevitable beating by a pair of thugs, him being seduced by one of the suspects, and a couple of gunfights - one of which takes place at a mobile home court - before the ending where one character is on the receiving end of one of the most shocking and goriest deaths in a pulp paperback (Hint: Think Raiders of the Lost Ark).

So back when FOX premiered as a network in the now ancient Year of Our Lord 1987 AD it had a few flagship shows - The Tracey Ullman Show (which featured a few scribbly animated skits drawn by some guy named Matt), Married With Children (in which we're supposed to believe a man married to Katey Segal would find Katey Segal unattractive), 21 Depp Career Launch Street and this show called Werewolf.

It was a shaggier mix of The Fugitive and The Incredible Hulk but with a blander, less interesting lead character. But that's okay, cuz he was supported by a better supporting cast. There was Chuck Connors as an evil werewolf sea captain who chewed the scenery every chance he got. And then there was Lance "Colonel Decker" LeGault as the improbably named bounty hunter Alamo Joe. Joe apparently shopped at the same clothing store as the Marlboro Man.

The show started to fizzle out towards the end. Connors inexplicably left the show. His character was played by an extra in the last two or three episodes; always from a distance and with his back turned to the camera. The final episode was a light, cutesy story in which our hero - in his hairy, savage, bloodthirsty form - helped a bunch of comedy relief senior citizens escape from a Nursing Home of Doom. Bah!

It won't stop me from picking up the DVD set in October. Like Friday the 13th - The Series, I'll probably be a little let down. I'm such a glutton.

Now...when is somebody gonna release War of the Worlds Season 2 on DVD?

No, not that Robert B Parker. There was another one. The original, you might say. And all due respect to him, he had an interesting life pre-writing career. He was a journalist/OSS agent working mostly behind the lines during World War II. So when he writes a novel set in post-war Budapest, you don't knock his credibility.

But - according to the afterward written by his daughter - he only wrote two other books, which is a crying shame, because this was a fun read. I immediately went back to the cranky old geezer's book store to find his other two. Couldn't find them, but I did find an older edition of this one. Typical.

Who: Boone Carlyle
What: Oceanic Flight 815 Survivor

"Theresa falls up the stairs, Theresa falls down the stairs." And when Boone metaphorically fell up the stairs it was because he was naive enough to believe in Locke.

Page after page of beautiful GGA by the wonderful Bob Maguire. Need any proof? Check here.

Or "The Mark Sanford Story".

This is an actual book. Came across it while browsing through the cranky old man's bookstore. I didn't buy it, though.

But it's not really a remake. Honestly, when I finally watched this for the first time last week, I found myself - a Camp Crystal Lake fanboy - reconciling it with the previous few movies and thinking, "This is totally what Jason did after his dance with Krueger." There are sequences and moments here that were obviously lifted from the first four movies, but, to be honest, the franchise was always plagiarizing from itself. Chalk all these deja vu moments up to sheer coincidence.

The new Jason in this flick can be scary. And fast. And some of the camera work induces some dark atmospheric moments. And....um ..... that's ... about it.

Most of my disappointment with the movie lie with three things. First, 97% of the cast (i.e. victims) were either extremely unlikeable from the get-go or forgettable cyphers. Sure, in a Friday flick, there are always a few jerk characters you don't mind seeing Jason cut in half. But you're also supposed to root for a few of 'em, too (even though you know they're just so much fodder).

Secondly, how can you make a Friday the 13th flick without the theme music? Not even a little of it? You don't.

Thirdly, the smut. Look, I'm no prude, but ... gah. You know you're watching something special when one of the characters in the movie is a redneck pot farmer who talks dirty to nudie mag centerfolds as if they were real women and has an implied sexual relationship with a mannequin he keeps in the attic. I look forward to the screenwriters next movie .... once they've graduated junior high school.

No, seriously. Their hook for the next sequel (even though this one tanked at the box office) is Jason Voorhees chasing campers ... through the snow.

Wow! What a concept.

0:12:13 Nerdy Pot Head Camper - some sort of machete kill (offscreen)

0:19:40 Requisite Horny Girl - trapped in her sleeping bag and set on fire

0:22:10 White Afro Dude - dragged underneath some floorboards and killed offscreen

0:23:27 Requisite Horney Guy - machete to the forehead while he's stuck in a bear trap

0:42:42 Redneck Pot Farmer - machete to the throat

0:46:32 Xtreme Boater Woohoooo! - shot in the head with an arrow

0:49:20 Topless Waterskiier - machete to the top of the head

1:10:13 Token Minority(Asian American) & Caricature of a Real Pothead - long spike shoved through throat

1:16:55 Token Minority(African American) & Caricature of a Real Pothead - axe through the back

1:19:10 Lead Douchebag's Girlfriend - slammed against some mounted antlers

1:20:34 Deputy - fire poker through the eye

1:24:08 Lead Douchebag - impaled with a machete AND THEN through a tow truck spike

1:30:20 Forgettable Lead Girl - impaled with a machete

Have you seen the movie? Yes? Well, then you've read the book.

Well, mostly. But as far as book-to-movie adaptations go, From Russia With Love adhered pretty derned close to the book, right down to individual lines of dialogue. The movie throws in an extended chase sequence featuring a helicopter and some boats. And the organization at odds with Bond was changed from SMERSH to SPECTRE.

There was another difference that I appreciated - no gadgets. Even though it was only the second Bond film, FRWL had 007 rely on a Q Branch gadget to get the upper hand of Nash during their Orient Express encounter. In the book, there is no deus ex machina. Bond must rely on skill and luck and chance. And even he's not comfortable with that.

Out on DVD on August 25th.

The nation's long agonizing wait is finally over.