Television: February 2008 Archives
According to her awesome Cheap-Trick-blasting Myspace page, you can still catch her at local truckstops wherever in “Pajama Party Show,” her touring slumber party of the freshest of fresh comediennes, or on the Home Shopping Network promoting her line of hot lingerie based on a complex mathematical theory called “Slip Into Slim!” She's even a contributing writer for DOLLS MAGAZINE!
A bonus video of Shear hawking Lace Control Panties after the jump!
There’s some other stuff here, but I'm too lazy to figure out what it is—basically talking heads talking down to their minions.
That's right. I did just embed an awesome SNL clip from Hulu.com.
Having been pimped out by her mother to various "smelly" men as a child, Stratford belonged to an undisclosed satanic cult "off and on" for about six years—during which she performed for kiddie pornographers and sacrificed two of her own children to snuff films and another to ritualistic torching—and thankfully lived to pen a best-selling account of her experience, titled Satan’s Underground. Never mind the many, many critics (some of them Christian!) questioning the “validity” of her story, Lauren Stratford was an American Hero, a true survivor—whether it be of SRA or the Holocaust.
More satanic mayhem after the jump!
Here's a little NSFW (but only just barely) clip from BBC 2's miniseries adaptation of Alan Hollinghurst's brilliant "The Line of Beauty." It would seem difficult to turn Hollinghurst's story of (mostly gay) sex and political intrigue among privileged mid-80's Thatcherites into a totally NOT HOT bore, but on the basis of this and this clip, that's pretty much what they've done.
Ugh.
Couldn't they at least have inserted a dissolve or a wipe to suggest that our protagonist Nick (who in the film looks like an even dykier Chris O'Donnell) was capable of lasting longer than -- and I counted -- 17 seconds? 17 seconds WITH a condom? That's just shameful.
They've sold a multicam sitcom pilot to ABC about--wait for it--a gay guy and his straight best friend and business partner! It's just like "Will & Grace" only this time...it's just like "Will & Grace."
Variety reminds us not to confuse this pilot with Max Mutchnick and David Kohan's last project, a stalled pilot at CBS about...a gay guy and his straight best friend and business partner!
Wow.
Now if, like mine, your memory of the Great Works of high-school summer reading lists is somewhat hazy, you’re probably asking yourself: Just who is this rare bird Lady Bracknell? To answer that question, I consulted the obvious, most reputable source for all things Lit: Sparks Notes. And here is the only thing you need to know: “Lady Bracknell values ignorance, which she sees as ‘a delicate exotic fruit.’”
Although we are totally jealous that we missed this scoop,
hats off to Bauer Griffin and the Celebrity Baby Blog for capturing this
lovely photo of
Even when Camille gets a bit batty, or starts repeating herself about the nonexistence of global-warming or the unsung brilliance of Sean Hannitty (read: always) she can usually be counted on to wax hilariously poetic in eulogy of some recently deceased b-lister or TV actress.From Salon:
"Shocked", Camille? Really? Anyway, Suzanne was pretty rad so we'll allow Cammy her excesses this time around.I was shocked to read of the recent death of Suzanne Pleshette, one of the most intelligent and underutilized actresses in Hollywood. (snip) Because Pleshette died over the Martin Luther King holiday weekend, the first bulletins on major online news sites, clearly being manned by 25-year-old greenhorns in the absence of senior staff, made reference only to the death of an unnamed actress who had played a "TV wife." I didn't even bother looking at first. A day later, however, as the impact hit (and vacationing cognoscenti clearly squawked), Pleshette's name was blazoned in every headline.
Pleshette loomed large in my book for the British Film Institute on Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds,"
where she plays a darkly lovelorn schoolteacher, Annie Hayworth, who gets cut down by a flock of crows in chaotic Bodega Bay, Calif. Pleshette's deft parry and thrust, punctuated by cigarettes, with the coolly composed Tippi Hedren, is a model of virtuoso screen acting. For the book, I used a full-page on-set candid photo of Pleshette with the caption, "Annie Hayworth may be dead, but Suzanne Pleshette lives!" She'll certainly live forever for me. Here's a fan Web site ("More than Emily Hartley") devoted to wonderfully elegant Pleshette pix, including European magazine covers.
As the dust of the months-long Writer's Guild Strike begins to settle, it is to time to take stock of the casualties: thousands laid off, seasons cut short, deals terminated. But let us not overlook the most tragic victim of all.
According to Michael Ausiello at TVGuide.com, Women's Murder Club will be canceled. That's right. The best-titled television show OF ALL TIME is no more.
What's worse, the show is ending with so many questions left unanswered! Will we EVER get to find out what happened to Trixie's...um, her thing? Or Molly's...um, boyfriend? And what about those skeletons in Commissioner Jenkins...um, closet? Heck, are there even characters on the show named Trixie, Molly, or Commissioner Jenkins? We'll never know.
Okay, so we--none of us, nobody, not one person--ever watched a single episode of Women's Murder Club. But this we do know: It was a show. It was called Women's Murder Club. And it will be missed.
