I'm feeling some political content creeping up on me - surprisingly, not about the current ha-ha fun that is the closing act of the decades-long public health care debate. Instead, I'm thinking odd thoughts about public funding for the arts. I will share them with you soon, provided I can tease them into a cogent order.
Cogency is not on my plate this evening, though; I've been essentially 'going' since Monday morning, and as soon as the paper went to press this week, I came home and crashed in front of the television, absorbing the underwhelming squandering of talent that is the recent film version of Get Smart. Actually, that puts me at 0-2 with recent comedies since we just rented Paul Blart, Mall Cop the other night, and I was pretty literally blown back by the pandering stink of it - the flop-sweat of crowd-pleasing moments that pissed away any hope the film had of being really good. It just had to settle for enormously successful.
Get Smart was definitely the better of the two films. Still not worth your time, but Anne Hathaway is at her peak hotness, so that's where you'll have to go and find her in later years when you want to reminisce. It could be worse: for Lea Thompson's peak hotness, you have to sit through Howard the Duck.