The trailer for the Karate Kid remake is out.
Would be kind of awesome if the kids had to compete in kumite at the end instead of a sanctioned karate competition.
1 hour ago
poured a cup of coffee at about 6:30 this morning and here was the lineup on the only MSNBC show I watch, "morning joe":
Stephen A. Smith
Pandora is a moon of Polyphemus, a fictional gas giant orbiting Alpha
Centauri A. I’ve always wanted to know what the view would be from
the moon of a gas giant. Can you imagine a quarter of the sky being
taken up by a massive cloud-covered planet visible night or day? We
get to see it in Avatar, and since Jupiter is the king of the gods,
maybe majestic is an appropriate word to describe it. I wonder if
Cameron’s choice to set this on the moon of a gas giant wasn’t a slap
in the face to Lucas, as if to say “this is RETURN OF THE JEDI done
right.” (I know it is ambiguous in the Star Wars universe whether or
not Endor orbits a gas giant.)
But what had me really geeking out is the choice of the star system.
Alpha Centauri A is perfect.
Hamermesh downplays the real game theoretical reason why it’s rational for Han to fight: His contribution is likely to be decisive to the outcome. After all, he’s got “the fastest ship in the galaxy,” and it can make mincemeat of Imperial tie-fighters (as we already saw earlier in the movie). Hamermesh’s payoff matrix implicitly represents this by positing that if Han fights, he increases his own payoff from 5 to 8, and that of the Rebels from 7 to 10. In truth, however, Han’s contribution might well make the difference between victory and total defeat (as in fact happens). Moreover, the speed of the Millenium Falcon minimizes the risk that Han takes should things go badly. He has a good chance of running away unscathed. I’ll ignore the fact that he also times his arrival at the battle perfectly, such that it’s clear exactly what he has to do to ensure victory at little risk to himself; if it looked like the Rebels were going to lose, he could have just as easily have destroyed Luke’s fighter instead of Vader’s and then claimed he was there to help the Empire all along.
As America sits, in the snow, tired, and perhaps hungry—not for change, anymore, but hungry perhaps for optimism, or hungry to once again love and respect and feel warmly toward our on-air talent—what do they really want, besides a rest, for a bit? I think they want to watch professional football on a Saturday. Snowy professional football. And, I think, they are wary of digital satellites.
When I was a girl, America watched football for free. President Kennedy told us to be proud of our Founding Fathers, our moral courage, our free market of ideas, and as he instructed us to look to the stars, America received football from the sky, with rabbit ears and pride. Sometimes we drove cars and listened to football. I wonder—have you listened to football, in a car, recently? Has anyone? Did we lose something, as a country, when we stopped listening to football? I think so, sometimes. But some didn't. Some still do.
President Obama, for whom I voted because I believed he was the best choice available, is a profound disappointment. I now regard his campaign as a sly bait-and-switch operation, promising one thing and delivering another. Shame on me.
When I walked into the Strand Bookstore in Manhattan last week, I headed straight for the bright young thing who wore an “Ask Me” button, and asked her to point me to the section of the store where I might find Sarah Palin’s memoir, “Going Rogue: An American Life.” She looked at me as if I had requested a copy of “Mein Kampf” signed in blood by the author, and directed me to the nearest Barnes and Noble, where, presumably, readers of dubious taste and sensibility could find what they wanted.
The Wednesday exchange began when Haddadi entered the game and Smith said, "Look who's in." Lawler responded, "Hamed Haddadi. Where's he from?"
Smith answered, "He's the first Iranian to play in the NBA."
Towfighi, in an e-mail to The Times, the Clippers and Fox Sports executives, took umbrage with the fact that Smith mispronounced Iran and Iranian.
Here is the rest of the on-air exchange:
Lawler: "There aren't any Iranian players in the NBA?" repeating Smith's pronunciation of the word "Iranian."
Smith: "He's the only one."
Lawler: "He's from Iran?"
Smith: "I guess so."
Lawler: "That Iran?"
Lawler: "The real Iran?"
Lawler: "Wow. Haddadi -- that's H-A-D-D-A-D-I."
Smith: "You're sure it's not Borat's older brother?"
Lawler laughed and Smith continued, "If they ever make a movie about Haddadi, I'm going to get Sacha Baron Cohen to play the part."
Lawler: "Here's Haddadi. Nice little back-door pass. I guess those Iranians can pass the ball."
Smith: "Especially the post players."
Lawler: "I don't know about their guards."
"I would be especially sad about it – I really feel sorry for Elin – since me and my wife were at fault for hooking her up with him," Parnevik said. "We probably thought he was a better guy than he is. I probably would have to apologise to her and hope she uses a driver next time rather than a three-iron, I would say."
It's OBVIOUSLY going that way. This has become so ridiculous that he absolutely has to do it for purely financial reasons: i.e., it's the only way he's going to be able to keep Elin out of divorce court for the near future.
But here's the real fun: he'll come up with some story that combines sex addiction with his lost opportunity to have a childhood. (You heard it here first!) Tiger Woods is about to construct nothing less than A Classic Michael Jackson Defense, except that he tastefully substituted NYC/Vegas partygirls and A PORN STAR for underaged boys.
Drinking at the airport is usually like being a pigeon that keeps whappin' itself into a closed window. I'm not 100 percent sure what I mean by that, but I do know that it's especially true at the Fox & Firkin. If you like the whole idea of a traditional English pub--and sweet Lordy in heaven, I do--then you will regard this bar as a personal insult. Let's just start with the fact that you're in Dulles, where Stalinist realism had its last big hurrah, so the atmosphere isn't exactly Shropshire-on-Buggery.