The Air Down There

Anyone else thinking sequel buzz? Dude jones.

But shmeariously folks, it's nice to see that Mischa Barfin has cut down on the barfing. She's been positively glowing ever since she tossed Billionaire Brandon Davis to the curb. So hott right now.

Which gets me thinking ... isn't anyone else curious as to why not a single, solitary cast member of "The O.C." have been able to land a decent role in a respectable movie, considering the show's success in the most highly valued demos? And no, Adam Brody's glorified cameo in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" doesn't count. Are they untalented or unmotivated? The world may never know. Allz I know is that if your Uncle Grambo was in a similar position, I'd be breaking my agent's balls (Vincent Chase stizz) to get me as many auditions as possible, ESPECIALLY in the wake of Josh Schwartz's extended brainfart that was Season 2. That show isn't long for this world, no siree! Get while the gettin's good, yo.

PS - Some unfortunately timed server-related issues resulted in the late publication of this post. Don't want to bore you with the details, but thought they should be duly noted. On with the show! Also, pics via Lounge Saints.

Take The Last Train To Durstville

Have you heard? According to those limey wags at NME, it's officially BABYSHAMBLES CRISIS WEEK! Um, er, come again? Colour me crazy, but isn't every week with Pete Babyshambles considered crisis week? Babyshambles. What a joke. Some say worst band evs. But then again, are they? I mean, has ANYONE ever ONCE heard ANY of their songs? Effing Brits.

The latest Crisis in Crackatoa comes on the heels of British radio's less-than-enthusiastic reception to the latest Babyshambles single, "Fuck Forever" ... uh, ya think? What kind of black tar is Jeeves smokin' to think he's gonna score lots of airplay with a title like that? Face facts, not even Sony BMG's payola budget could score you spins when your single drops an F-bomb in the title. Just ask The Black Eyed Peas, who were forced to change the word "Phunk" to "Mess" in order for their first single ("Don't Phunk Mess With My Heart") to get mainstream radio play. Effing Brits. WORRRST!

Spotted at Misshapes: Marci and Don Von Bondie. Um, WORRRST! No Stollsteimer buzz revealed, though. But wait, it gets worse. Spotted at Misshapes just last weekend ... Yoko Ono! Fuck me in the goat ass.

Who knew? X-Tina Haguilera is a Sparty fan? I'da never thunk it.

This one's for the Lit Dorks. Bobby Birnbaum talks to Sarah "I'd Like To Buy A" Vowell. Assassinate THIS!

Dude, President Clinton. If I were you, I'd do it. Mars.

Throaty-voiced 89X deejay Kelly Brown has decided to gracefully bow out after 15 years on Detroit Windsor radio. Good luck K.B., catch ya at The Whitney.

More in a bit, yo.

Classy AND Sexy

In today's installment, your Uncle Grambo would like to profile a true blue old school bellissima named Monica Vitti. Easily one of the classiest broads in the history of world cinema, Vitti starred in virtuoso auteur Michelangelo Antonioni's "loose trilogy" of films that explored modern malaise during the early 1960s (L'Avventura, La Notte and L'Eclisse). Once dubbed "the high priestess of frosty sensuality", her stunning looks and largely blank on-screen demeanor has, for some odd reason, always left your Uncle Grambo wanting more. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't speak English, maybe it was the dark roots beneath her dyed blonde hair, maybe it was the impression that she would fix you up a wicked batch of pasta (al dente, obvs) if you asked nicely enough. Whatever it was, through the course of these three films, she had it in spades. Monica Vitti ... so much buzz.

If you're down with my high-falutin' cineaste stizz, your Uncle Grambo highly suggests plunking down some $$$ from your next paycheck on the Criterion Collection releases of both L'Avventura and L'Eclisse. Be prepared, though ... only the patient and introspective viewer will be rewarded. In the future, I'm hopeful that someone will take the time to put together a proper release of La Notte — the transfer on the Fox Lorber DVD sucks, plain and simple.

I propose a toast to Monica Vitti, wherever she may be: Word to your madre.

No Joy In Hockeytown Tonight

Hey, did you hear that hockey's back? While Baligian and the other slappys spent the last few weeks welcoming the sport back with almost unilaterally open arms, Detroit Red Wings fans are going to spend the next few days mourning the first victim of the new Collective Bargaining Agreement that got rammed up the proverbial A of Bob Goodenow and the NHLPA. As of this afternoon, the Wings have placed Former-Goon-Turned-Local-Hero Darren McCarty on waivers, effectively taking a rusty scalpel to the heart and soul of the organization in the wake of mandated cost-cutting initiatives brought on by the introduction of a salary cap.

Make all the jokes you want about D-Mac and his outrageously shitty band. But at the end of the day, there's no denying that the Grind Line winger is one of Detroit's most popular athletes of the last 25 years. Not only did he play an instrumental role in all three of the recent triumphant Stanley Cup runs, it cannot be argued that he was THE living, breathing physical embodiment of the blue-collar spirit and work ethic of the City of Detroit — perhaps more so than any other athlete or entertainer (lone exceptions being Kid Rock and Eminem). From the time he took revenge and beat the living shit out of Claude Lemieux (the single greatest arch-villian and über-nemisis this town knew during the 1990s) to his series-clinching goal versus Philly in the `97 Cup, Detroiters embraced the British Columbia born bruiser as one of their own.

And Darren McCarty embraced the city right back. He moved his family here, making him one of the few professional athletes to live in The D™ year round. He donated large chunks of his time and even larger chunks of his pocketbook to local charities, going as far as establishing the McCarty Cancer Foundation in Royal Oak in the name of his late father. Proving that his popularity was without equal, he received perhaps the most rapturous reception of anyone who appeared at Jim Rome's EPIC Tour Stop #31 during July of 2003 (trumping true icons like Chuck Daly, Ernie Harwell and Joe Dumars).

At the end of the day, Darren McCarty will ALWAYS have a home here in the city of Detroit — even if the Wings no longer require his services. It remains to be seen how hockey fans, who were hung out to dry by the incredible stubborness and stupidity of those charged with overseeing the league (paging Gary Bettman and Bob Goodenow), will react when the NHL returns this fall. But you can be sure that the talk radio stations will be lit up this evening (and for weeks to come) with angry callers seething over the outcome of this strike and the meaningless loss of a local legend. Good luck, D. Mac ... your Uncle Grambo wishes you nothing but the best.

Terry Lawson Works Out ... With Black Guys

There are many good reasons to plunk down $1.50 for the local fishwrap each and every Sunday. Aside from the impressively comprehensive Sports section put together by The DetNews and Jim Schaeffer and Heather Newman's highly enjoyable tag team work covering video games for The Freep, keen readers with a penchant for belly aching laughs of the semi-subversive variety can always find pleasure partaking in the work of this triumvirate of Freep columnists — Mitch Al-Bomb, Cryin' McCollum and Terry-ble Lawson.

While the New York Blog Contingent routinely hems, haws and guffaws at the content in The Old Gray Lady's Sunday Styles section, discerning readers here in The D™ know that, on any given Sunday, one of the aforementioned Freep columnists is bound to stuff their proverbial foot in their not-so proverbial mouth. This weekend, it was Terry Lawson's turn. In his unfortunately titled piece, "Is The N-Word Necessary?", a fifty-something (?) white film critic wonders aloud why he hears "the n-word" so frequently in movies and rap music but never hears it in real life.

How could this be? After all, Terry Lawson KNOWS black people. In his column, he cites instances where he's interacted with "young black guys" at his gym, "older black men" at his gym and Denzel Washington at a press junket (no word on whether or not that junket ALSO took place at a gym). Aside from "a slip or two" in the past, no one ever seems to use "the n-word" in his presence. So, dear readers, why must a young black cartoonist like Aaron McGruder, author of "The Boondocks", use it so frequently in his work?

According to the unparalled wisdom of T. Lawson, the reason is simple. It falls under the (and I am quoting here) "I can call my mamma fat but you can't rule." I shit you not, that is what was printed in Detroit's most important and influential newspaper. Say WHAT?!?

It was at this point that your Uncle Grambo, as a reader, just began to laugh. While I guess I appreciate the brazen confidence of Terry-ble Lawson at trying to address the issue of the social appropriateness of "the n-word" in a 600-word column, doesn't he realize that there's nothing to gain and everything to lose by writing this particular column on this particular Sunday? Unless, of course, he was gunning for props for blasting his pecs in an unsegregated environment. To me, it's like the guy is just BEGGING to be kicked to the effing curb. Am I right or am I right? I guess the only explanation for this column making it to press is everyone's favorite adage about the newspaper business: controversy sells papers.

Okay, onto the PHC. Bullet stizz.

• Two days after Jodi Kantor steps down as Editor of The NYT's Arts & Leisure section, those jackals at The Post report that she's preggo. Curious timing, indeed. Either way, your Uncle G wishes J.K. the best of bovs — she's a good egg. No pun intended.

• None other than the original Cooter himself, Ben Jones, is leading a boycott of the new "Dursts Of Hazzard" flick for its "profanity laced script, blatant sexuality and arrogant disrespect for our show, for our cast, for America's families, and for the sensibilities of the heartland of our country." The real question is this ... what was Drudge doing reading Cooter's Place (Dot Com)?

• KCRW is going to start podcasting "Morning Becomes Eclectic" ... I say buzz.

• "Clearly this is a disappointing opening." No shazz, Sherlizz. "The Island" got ho'd at the B.O. this weekend, taking in just north of $12 mills. Somewhere in Hollywood, Michael Bay is crying crocodile tears into the bosom of an ex-Playmate while Jerry Bruckheimer is cackling wildly on his answering machine. Does Marsellus Wallace Jerry Bruckheimer look like a bitch? Then why you tryin' to fuck him like a bitch, Bay?

• Step aside, Leibovitz and Corbijn. Grambo has done gone legit. I've been repeatedly assured by the boys in Porchsleeper that my check is in the mail for the use of my photo of them at the MC2 in their liner notes. BOW!

• Bad news for The Squirrel and Giors. Amanda Peet just got engaged to David Benioff, author-cum-screenwriter of works such as "The 25th Hour" and "Troy."

• Best Blind Item ever? WHICH newly humiliated actress is not so innocent herself? We hear that while visiting her cheating man on a movie set, she hooked up with his married co-star during an all-night cocaine binge... Here's hoping that Gawker opens this one up for suggestions. I haven't got the faintest idea.

Finally, this hott item comes from the files of "Just In Case You Were Wondering" ... while Maria Menounos didn't have to stretch her acting chops too much for her role as "Sexy Nurse" in "Fantastic Four", she is, in fact, still redonkulously binoculars in the looks department. That is all. [via Lounge Saints]