Denise Richards' Ratings: They've Evaporated

If the New York Post, and countless other entertainment sites are to be believed, we won't have Denise Richards to kick around anymore. Yes, in a rare show of good judgment, or more likely, an acceptance of a nearly nonexistent viewership, E! has decided to pull the plug on Denise Richards: It's Complicated, after only nine excruciating episodes. In typical fashion, E! won't make any announcements about this, the show will just quietly disappear. But we're not out of the woods yet, fans of watchable entertainment! Seacrest's new production deal is firmly in place. They may have lopped off Denise Richards' head, but it's only a matter of time befoe something even more terrifying springs up in it's place.

"The Hills" Are Alive

So in yet another in our continuing series of reasons why it's good to live in LA, last night Becky and I were lucky enough to witness a live staged reading of "The Hills" at Upright Citzens Brigade theatre. This was every bit as funny as it sounds, as you haven't lived until you've heard the lyrics to that theme song read aloud. The cast was stellar, and featured none other than "Dame Janeane Garafolo", who can be seen above essaying the role of Lauren Conrad, or Audrina Partrige, or one of the other skanks from the cast of that show. I was afraid that I might not be able to follow some of it, since I sometimes forget to watch, or rather, do everything in my power to avoid "The Hills", but Becky assured me that the players'rendition was spot on. The gentleman playing the role of Spencer Pratt was a bit over the top, but he made up for it by perfectly capturing Pratt's tendency to leave his mouth hanging open at the end of every sentence.

In Defense of the Bacon Wrapped Hot Dog

If you don't live in Los Angeles, chances are you've never even contemplated a bacon wrapped hot dog, much less tasted one. I can't really think of anything that would be worse for you, from a nutritional standpoint. But if you've never contemplated one, then you've also never inhaled their heavenly aroma. When you've had a few beers, and you're on your way home late in the evening, the smell of a bacon wrapped hot dog sizzling on the grill is next to impossible to resist. There are many shrewed vendors of bacon wrapped hot dogs within the city of Los Angeles. Many of them are undocumented, and nearly all of them have an uncanny knack of knowing exactly when and where to find you when your bacon dog jones is at its worst. (i.e., outside of bars at closing time, Metro stops, or popular tourist destinations) Lately the bacon dog has been under assault from both the Health department and the LAPD. Apparently there are certain rules and conditions that must be obeyed when you're dealing with raw pork products.(Adequate refrigeration comes to mind...) Since people who grab a bacon dog from a street vendor at 3 am are unlikely to report the fact that they spent the rest of the night with the trots, statistics determining the real danger of the bacon dog are nebulous at best. Yet still the authorites persist, with a full scale bacon raid taking place at the Hollywood and Highland mall last weekend. The Health department is calling the BD a public health threat; the vendors say they're just trying to make a living. Either way,if you're a meat eater, I'd recommend grabbing a bacon dog next time you get a chance. Their days may be numbered.

UPDATE:
Silly me, with my doom and gloom predictions. The bacon wrapped hot dog has of course, refused to go quietly. According to LAist, several vendors returned to the scene of the crime last Sunday night at Hollywood and Highland:

http://laist.com/2008/08/25/hot_dog_vendors_back.php

Thankfully, it appears that the LAPD had better things to do. Caveat Emptor! Viva La Bacon Dog!

What did you call me?

Just got back from vacation, hence the lack of posts lately. Fortunately, the powerful wheels of The Industry stop for no man, and I returned to find this announcement in my work inbox:

CEG and Ryan Seacrest New Partnership

I opened the email to discover exactly what I expected, that Comcast Entertainment and Ryan Seacrest are going to continue to join forces to fill your basic cable airwaves with wonderful programs like Keeping Up with the Kardashians, Sunset Tan, and Paradise City for many years to come. (What's that? You missed Paradise City, the reality show where a group of young twenty somethings pursue their dreams of making it big in Las Vegas? So did everyone else.) At one point in the press release, CEG president Ted Harbert called Seacrest "The ideal ambassador of the E! brand." While I can't argue with the accuracy of the statement, if somebody called me that, it'd be pistols at dawn. To combat all of this unpleasantness, I will now conclude this post with a picture of a mama deer and her adorable spotted fawn, taken by yours truly in my Mom's backyard in Oregon.

Jonas Versus the Volcano

This morning I arrived at work to find a throng of teens tweens and their chaperones waiting for a glimpse of the Jonas Brothers, who were holding court on Seacrest's radio show for the second day in a row.

Here's what I know about the Jonas Brothers:

1. They were recently on the cover of Rolling Stone
2. They are somehow involved with the Disney Channel.

Considering the fact that Rolling Stone hasn't had any cultural currency since the early Clinton Era (I'm being generous), I'm going to have to attribute the adoring fans to the Disney influence. I don't know much about Miley Cyrus, either, but I know she works for the Mouse, and witness the multitudes she drew into NYC for her Today show appearance the other day). This kind of thing has been going on at least since Elvis, and I don't have anything against the Jonas brothers per se. I'm just starting to resent the fact that I have to wade through crowds of screaming fans when I've barely had my morning coffee. I start to think evil thoughts, like what would happen if a volcano were to erupt out of the La Brea Tar pits and sweep the Jonas brothers (and their fans) away on a raging river of magma? Granted, this is unlikely. But it's exactly what the 1997 unintentional laugh riot "Volcano" invites us to imagine. I've avoided watching "Volcano" for a decade now, because deep inside I secretly hoped that a premise so ridiculous might actually yield a very entertaining film, and I didn't want to be disappointed. In retrospect I'm glad I waited, because it turns out that the "Volcano" in question is located right underneath the Miracle Mile, where I come to work every day! The film's climax, in which Tommy Lee Jones leads an army of city agencies in using freeway dividers to build a cul-de-sac to turn back the volcanic tide takes place at Wilshire and Fairfax, where I wait for the bus every night! Tommy Lee Jones does everything in Volcano. He cooks eggs for his daughter! He flirts with Anne Heche! He lays primacord explosive while mouthing off to the LA Chief of Police! Now I don't have to worry when my mind drifts into fantasies of vapid celebrities consumed by fire. Tommy Lee Jones will save them! Thanks, Volcano!