It's easy to see why Lewis Carroll's fantastically nonsensical "Alice" books have for so long appealed to moviemakers... anyone wanting to craft a family-friendly, effects-driven fantasia need look no further than Carroll's charmingly insane characters, like the perplexing Mad Hatter, the berserk March Hare and the ethereal Cheshire Cat, as well as to his famously whimsical setpieces, such as Alice growing from gigantic to mouse-sized while snacking on magical treats. Unfortunately, most filmmakers tend not to look much further than the surface of Carroll's loosely structured plots, ignoring or misinterpreting the deeper satire. There have been dozens of adaptations as over the years, and it would seem that most (if not all) have missed the point: “Alice” is meant to be a work of literary nonsense, operating entirely within its own oddball sense of internal (anti)logic. It’s a world of poems and philosophical musings as much as it’s about talking flowers and grinning cats.

Bearing that in mind, it must have seemed to the folks at Disney that if any modern filmmaker could do justice to the "Alice" stories, it must be Tim Burton, the maverick (but not too maverick) self-styled oddball visionary of Hollywood, whose affinity for outsider heroes seems perfectly in sync with Carroll's stranger-in-a-strange-land visions (who is Edward Scissorhands, for example, if not a sort of reverse Alice, a whimsical creature from a dreamland who finds himself baffled by our maddeningly banal reality?)

Burton's "Alice" (scripted by veteran tv 'toon writer Linda Woolverton) begins in the real world, establishing Alice (Aussie actress Mia Wasikowska) as a free-spirited but unhappy young woman. Expected to submit to an arranged marriage to an aristocratic lout, she struggles to come to terms with her pre-determined role in life. Burton clearly intends for this stuffy, whitewashed vision of Victorian England to seem overwhelmingly dull and soul-crushing (so as to contrast with the spectacle of Wonderland to come), but he and writer Woolverton oversell the point. Their Alice is clever, confident, and capable of seeing the world she lives in the way a modern audience would - as a thundering bore. Five minutes into the movie, and she's already champing at the bit for an excuse to rebel. Could her journey to Wonderland be the catalyst for some kind of proto-feminist awakening of the empowered woman within? Burton spells it out in broad, obvious strokes: this "Alice" isn't going to be a subtle satire so much as a broadside against banality, an audience-friendly argument in favor of freedom and imagination in the face of boredom and oppression.

Sure enough, Alice flees from her fancy party, tumbles down the rabbit hole and quickly finds herself in “Underland”, a fantastical landscape of monsters, fairies, animated flowers and talking animals that's haunted her dreams since she was a young girl. It soon becomes apparent to the audience (but not so much to Alice, since she not only believes herself to be dreaming but has no memory of Underland anyway) that this once-joyous land has become a troubled place, its whimsical edges darkening under the sway of the despotic Red Queen and her army of crimson-armored baddies. In order to save Underland and her newfound friends the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp, looking a bit like Carrot Top on acid), the Cheshire Cat (beautifully voiced by Stephen Fry), the White Rabbit (Martin Sheen, who finds an appealing balance between frightened and courageous), the Dormouse (Barbara Windsor), the March Hare (Paul Whitehouse) and the Blue Caterpillar (Alan Rickman playing essentially Alan Rickman) from the cruel reign of the Red Queen (a hydroencephalitic Helena Bonham Carter, who nearly steals the film from Depp) and her lackey the Knave of Hearts (a CG-stretched Crispin Glover), Alice will have to find the strength within herself to stand up and fight for what’s right, etc. etc.

The problem with Burton's approach is that, for all the film's emphasis on wonder and imagination, it's a strikingly mundane story. Carroll's Wonderland is a place of sublime nonsense, a multi-faceted satire of Victorian mores filled with clever wordplay, twisted logic and pure, unfettered fantasy. Burton's Wonderland is just another colorful stage on which a generic good vs. evil story plays out to its predictable Hollywood beats. His Alice follows a shallow hero's journey, going from mostly-empowered to fully-empowered, while the delightfully "mad" denizens of Wonderland are reduced to sword-wielding, Narnia-esque soldiers in a battle against tyranny.

It doesn't help that Burton, while certainly capable of crafting images of jaw-dropping visual splendor, gives the film a cold, emotionally distant tone that leaves the story largely uninvolving. He seems far more interested in cobbling multi-layered 3D effects together than in making us care what happens to Alice and her friends. Nor does he make Wonderland feel like a real place. Despite all the eye candy on display, this effects-cluttered Wonderland never seems to live and breathe... it's as though it never existed until Alice arrives, making it feel considerably more unreal than perhaps Burton intended. It's lovely to look at, to be sure, but in order for this revisionist take on Wonderland to have been as stirring as it’s trying to be, there needed to be some authentic atmosphere beneath the surface gloss, and some sense of true danger for these characters and their world.

Big, lavish, stunning (in 3D!), simple, and as easy to digest as oatmeal, this may be the "Alice" movie that Hollywood always wanted, but by failing to take any legitimate dramatic risks, and by reducing Carroll's rich sense of eccentric whimsy to mere window dressing for a predictably generic storyline, Burton's Wonderland must regrettably join the ranks of those numerous "Alice" adaptations that have completely (and, it would seem, willfully) missed the point. Where’s Terry Gilliam when you need him?

I’ve got an admission to make: I only saw "Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs" because of the dinosaurs. Much as I admire Blue Sky Studios for their technical finesse, I haven't been truly moved by anything they've done since Chris Wedge's 1998 short film "Bunny", and apart from last year's "Horton Hears a Who" their feature film output has been thoroughly underwhelming.

While it would be unfair and unreasonable to expect every CG animation company out there to deliver Pixar-level quality, I've frankly been put off by the over-reliance on forced comedy, shallow characters, instantly dated pop culture references and especially on the "haw haw, they think they're people" anthropomorphism that ditches legitimate character development in favor of crass, boorish stereotypes. It’s a reductive approach that sucks all the joy and wonder out of storytelling, focusing as it does on cheap laughs at the banality of the familiar. ("See, they're animals... but they act like an obnoxious suburban family! And their forest is like a strip mall... but with trees!")

While "Ice Age" parts 1 and 2 weren't really the worst offenders in recent memory, they could hardly be called models of exceptional storytelling (and they certainly dished out more than their fair share of fart and poop jokes, which I often find simply nauseating). While “Ice Age” part 1 was a tolerable if unremarkable bit of fluff, part 2 (“The Meltdown”) seemed to exemplify everything I dislike about the current spate of CG-animated movies... it was overstuffed with halfhearted gags, trumped-up conflict, manipulative drama and saccharine attempts at sweetness, all in the service of a story that didn’t seem to need telling. With no reason to expect a third trip to the “Ice Age” well to deliver any better, I went into “DOTD” prepared to do little more than ogle some pretty animation and cute critters.

I’m delighted to admit that I was wrong. “DOTD” isn’t just a vast improvement over the last entry in the series, it’s the best movie in the series, period. Fleet-footed and breezy where the first two were ponderous, this “Ice Age” largely jettisons clunky interspecies conflict in favor of pure adventure. Thankfully, it also tones down the cruder aspects of the humor (there’s not a single poop gag this time around), instead finding laughs in stranger and more unexpected places. Best of all, the characters (Manny the wooly mammoth, Diego the sabertooth tiger, Sid the sloth, Manny’s mate Ellie and her two opossum “brothers” Crash and Eddie) finally grow out of their shallow archetypes and are allowed to carry the story based on the strength of their newly-appealing personalities... this may be part 3, but it feels like the first time we’ve actually gotten to know (and be charmed by) this motley band of critters.

It helps tremendously that our prehistoric heroes are joined this time around by a new character named Buck, a half-crazy weasel with a makeshift eyepatch, a charming Brit accent (delivered with panache by Simon Pegg), a swashbuckler’s sense of derring-do, and an unnatural fondness for pineapples. Zipping, dashing and soaring his way through this film’s dinosaur-filled jungle underworld like a screws-loose Errol Flynn, Buck is an appealingly eccentric character who anchors the story even as he propels it forward.

The other critters also fare well this time around. Manny (Ray Romano), who made for a somewhat bland hero in the last two outings, is finally given some legitimately funny and affecting moments, while mother-to-be Ellie (Queen Latifah, one of the few bright spots in part 2) continues to be a charmingly comic presence. Diego (Denis Leary) is still underwritten, but at least he’s given more to do this time around, and his role as protector/nursemaid to Ellie pays off brightly in one of the film’s funnier scenes. It’s Sid the sloth (John Leguizamo), though, who surprisingly has the most complex and touching arc... he’s still largely the series’ furry punching bag, but “DOTD” does slow down long enough to give him several warmly poignant moments as he attempts (in his own clumsy way) to raise a trio of newly-hatched dinosaurs as his own. Heck, even Crash and Eddie (Seann William Scott and Josh Beck), two “x-treme” characters I hated in part 2, have been pleasantly dialed back this time around... not only are they significantly less obnoxious, but their hero-worship of Buck is genuinely sweet.

Floating around in a sort of perpetual side story is sabertoothed squirrel Scrat (whose high-pitched grunts, whiffles and screams are again provided by Blue Sky head honcho Chris Wedge). Once more struggling to maintain possession of his beloved acorn, Scrat’s turmoil is compounded by the arrival of a female of his species, who (yawn) uses her feminine charms to foil him at every turn. The story fortunately ditches their battle of the sexes just as it starts to go completely stale, spinning it sideways into more bizarre territory.

The big addition to the “Ice Age” universe this time around, of course, are the dinosaurs, and thankfully what could have been a clichéd gimmick is instead a welcome burst of invention that gives the series a much-needed boost. The film’s subterranean saurian world is a lush wonder to behold, a Jules Verne-esque playground of vast waterfalls, twisting chasms, verdant jungle and crimson lava flows. While it may be anachronistic in the extreme, it’s so imaginatively rendered that it’s hardly a detriment. Besides, those baby t-rexes Sid ends up with are nothing less than adorable.

Bright, charming, fast-paced and often truly funny, “Ice Age 3” may not be a masterpiece along the lines of “Ratatouille” or “Wall-E”, but it is a lot of fun, and easily as good as the first two “Ice Age” films put together. Also, if you can swing the extra bucks for the glasses, be sure and catch it in 3D... with its gorgeous visual palette, snappy action setpieces and cleverly choreographed sight gags, “DOTD” puts the format to especially good use.

It's one of those news blips you don't really believe at first... "Michael Jackson dead, yah right... probably a snarky dig about the state of his career." It isn't until the third, fourth, or fifth halfway credible source reports it that it sinks in. As of today, Michael Jackson is no longer a factor in the pop culture scene, no longer prepping himself for that comeback that never seemed to materialize, no longer being his weird self on tv, no longer putting together greatest hits albums, no longer doing the moonwalk. He's gone.

This probably won't mean so much to the generations who came along after his glory days (some would say up to and including the "Bad" album), the folks who knew him largely as a freakish has-been more (in)famous for his ghoulish appearance and strange, self-absorbed behavior than for his music.

For those of us old enough to remember a time before he became a sad parody of himself, though, his death might come as more of a sucker-punch... we grew up loving his music, we obsessively watched his videos, we (unironically) dressed up like the zombies in "Thriller" for Halloween and we pretended we knew how to do his cat-like dance moves. There's more than just nostalgia talking here... watch some of his old videos (the aforementioned "Thriller" is a good place to start, or maybe "Billie Jean") and you'll see why he was, at least for a while, known the world over as the King of Pop. The man knew how to entertain. He was good. Hell, he was great.

I can still vividly recall my eight year old self dashing to an open window and shouting "Hey, 'Thriller' is playin' on the radio!" down to the street below, prompting an excited stampede of my friends (and even my older sister's friends) up the stairs to gather around the radio and listen with rapt attention. I still remember watching the video for the first time (arguably my first "horror film" experience), awestruck at both the lavish (for their time) special effects and the elaborate dancing. I also remember the early beginnings of M.J.'s oddball personality quirks, which at first seemed charmingly eccentric but which gradually snowballed until all anybody could talk about was whether or not he really slept in a hyperbaric chamber or played dress-up with his pet chimp.

I remember the baffled disappointment as his music got less and less interesting, seemingly in tandem with his more and more outlandish behavior. His demeanor only got increasingly self-indulgent and paranoid as the years ticked by, and it didn't help that his physical appearance was getting more frightening with each passing plastic surgery. Probably the biggest problem for him, though, was that he simply failed to grow much as an artist after the heyday of the late 80s and early 90s. His songs just didn't captivate the way they once had. For me, he kind of fell off the radar. I'd be lying if I said I'd even thought much about the man for the last decade or so.

That said, it wasn't just a couple of weeks ago that some friends and I were watching a download of "Captain EO" (remember that?), and I found myself struck by its near-perfect melding of cheesiness, sincerity, and flat-out spectacle... in a weird sort of way, it seemed to sum M.J. up better than any awkward interview, gushing album review or tell-all biography ever could. His star may have burned itself out years ago, but I prefer to remember there was a time when it also burned bright.

Late evening, opening night. The line for the IMAX showing of "Star Trek" is hundreds deep an hour before the movie. Dotting the crowd are several people wearing colorful Trek-inspired costumes (Kirk yellow and McCoy blue seem to be the most popular), as well as a few folks incongruously wielding plastic lightsabers. The overall atmosphere is one of both anticipation and satisfaction. The former because it's been years since there was a new "Trek" movie, and even longer since there was a truly good one. The latter because the advance buzz has already promised that this one isn't just going to be good, it may just turn out to be great... the "Trek" film us die-hard fans have been waiting for ever since we first sat daydreaming in front of the tv as we watched the classic trinity of gallant Captain Kirk, crusty Dr. McCoy, and pragmatic Spock battle rampaging Horta monsters, woo green-skinned sex goddesses, fight dastardly Klingons, and fly the starship Enterprise into the very heart of the mysterious unknown to come out unscathed on the other side.

Frankly there was little doubt that this new and expensive "Trek" flick would deliver scads of action, adventure and pretty faces that would win over a new generation of fans, but for those of us old enough to remember the warm and cozy charms of the original television show, the question largely has been: does it pay respect to its beloved source material, or does it glibly cast the original aside in favor of a more crowd-pleasing spin on an old franchise?

Interestingly, and I would say mostly successfully, J.J. Abrams' new take on "Star Trek" does both. Given that this "Star Trek" is largely (but not entirely) a reboot of not only the long-running film series, but of the classic television show itself, it would have perhaps been easy to simply keep the basic premise while jettisoning the lion's share of the details. Instead, Abrams and scripters Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman have developed a cleverly convoluted storyline that allowed them to pay homage to the original "Star Trek" even as they essentially set about re-building it from the ground up. This isn't some hack and slash job akin to Michael Bay's "Transformers" (ironically also scripted by Orci and Kurtzman)... Abrams' film dishes out numerous little bon-bons for the classic "Trek" fans, ranging from witty snippets of dialogue (McCoy gets in one of his "I'm a doctor, not a..." rejoinders) to major revelations about the characters' backstories, and thankfully none of them feel condescending or dismissive. Abrams' "Star Trek" may play fast and loose with the established canon, but it does so with an affection that renders the changes not only appropriate, but ironically welcome (especially in the face of the diminishing returns of the last couple of "Trek" movies, which served mainly to illustrate how stale the series was becoming).

The cast delivers enjoyable (but again, respectful) interpretations of the original characters, largely eschewing caricature in favor of capturing the essence of what made those characters work in the first place. Chris Pine nails Captain Kirk's bravado while tempering him with a sense of uncertainty... his Kirk starts off as a bundle of untapped potential who needs a genuine crisis to bring about his metamorphosis into a capable leader. Similarly, Zachary Quinto's Spock nicely captures the character's emotionally conflicted nature even as the script takes him to darker places than the original series ever imagined. Karl Urban brings both humor and a gruff gravitas to his take on Dr. McCoy ("I may throw up on you" might not go down in history as a character-defining zinger along the lines of "He's dead, Jim", but it's still one of the movie's funnier lines). Zoe Saldana takes Lt. Uhura's sexy confidence and runs with it - it helps that she's given a bit more to do here than Nichelle Nichols often was in the earlier movies. Rounding out the crew are John Cho as a naive but ferocious Sulu, Anton Yelchin as an appealingly enthusiastic young Chekov (he still mangles his "V"s), and Simon Pegg, who nearly steals the movie as a lovably temperamental Scotty. Original Spock Leonard Nimoy also makes a welcome return to the big screen, his initial appearance eliciting enthusiastic cheers from the audience I was with.

Abrams directs with an eye toward action and explosions, and to that end he dishes out some of the most elaborate and visually stunning pyrotechnics ever seen in the franchise. Fortunately, he also takes the time to give the characters room to breathe and grow, so that by the end we've not only gotten to know these "new" characters, but also grown rather fond of them. Orci and Kurtzman's script is surprisingly clever and focused (especially considering these two were also responsible for writing "Catwoman"), providing not only the requisite thrills and drama but also some major twists that will most likely prove controversial with some classic "Trek" fans.

Personally I appreciated that this film was willing to rock the boat and take us Trekkies out of our comfort zones... its the first time in a long time I've felt actual suspense while watching a "Trek" movie. If the film could be said to err, it is in its softpeddaling of the more poignant character-based moments that often provided the classic series and films with their best moments - Abrams keeps his movie rocketing along nicely, but his emphasis on delivering one dazzling action setpiece after another often comes at the expense of quieter moments that might have let the characters truly blossom (Eric Bana's villainous Nero, in particular, could have used some fleshing out). There are also some credibility-stretching plot contrivances that might prove to be deal breakers for those concerned with things like an accurate portrayal of the laws of physics... to say nothing of some overly-convenient coincidences that had me teetering on the brink of completely losing my otherwise well-earned suspension of disbelief.

Still, despite its flaws, I can say as a lifelong fan that Abrams and company have not only delivered one of the most solid "Trek" films since "Wrath of Khan", in one fell swoop they've quite possibly kickstarted an otherwise stagnant franchise back to glorious life.

As Easter quickly approaches on its adorable bunny feet, it might be prudent to pause for a moment of quiet reflection. What is Easter, exactly? A Christian holiday? A pagan one? An excuse for family to get together and nosh on ham and fizzy wine until everyone has a bellyache that only Pepto can fix? A day for little kids to dye eggs, hunt for brightly colored wicker baskets and then spend hours sifting multicolored jelly beans out of tufts of cheap, shredded green plastic?

However you celebrate (or don't... we're not picky) Easter, there's one thing that everybody should be able to agree on, and that's that Cadbury Creme Eggs are awesome: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....gs-Classic.jpg

They've been around since the early '70s, long enough for a lot of us to have many warm childhood memories of digging these foil-wrapped oval treats out of our baskets, eagerly unwrapping them, and sinking our teeth through the chocolatey outer shell into the seemingly bottomless wellspring of gooey, creamy, sugary-sweet deliciousness inside.

Just what we were eating, and how in the world the good folks at Cadbury's had made them, were sources of countless intense playground debates. How did they get the goo inside the shell? Did they use some kind of magic machine, like the one that got the cream filling into Twinkies? Once they'd managed that, how did they get the yellow "yolk" into the center of the ivory-colored outer goo? And perhaps most importantly, did the yolk actually taste different than the white part? Opinions were fiercely divided on that last point, despite numerous taste-test experiments designed to provide a definitive answer.

Whatever mysteries they contained, most of us were content to simply savor them as the gourmet delicacy that they clearly were. Jelly beans, waxy chocolate eggs in gold foil and cocoa bunnies filled with rice crispies and peanut butter were nice, but the Cadbury Egg was without a doubt the crème de la crème of the Easter bounty. If pastel malt balls and rabbit-shaped Sweet Tarts were the hearty main course of a young kid's holiday feast, then Cadbury Eggs were the fancy petit fours to be brought out on sterling trays for dessert.

Somewhere along the way, the Cadbury company decided (perhaps spurred on by the demands of a candy-loving public growing increasingly weary of the same-old, same-old every holiday season) to come up with some new flavors. They still make the classic Egg, thankfully, but now the more adventurous sugar connoisseurs have choices: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....Eggs-Boxed.jpg

These are the three most popular varieties available in my neck of the woods (California): the classic Creme, Caramel, and Orange Creme. How do they measure up? Deliciously... though how well you respond to the orange egg is going to depend largely on whether or not you think fruit and chocolate belong together in the first place. Inside each, you'll find either the original lip-smacking white-and-yolk goo, a ridiculously generous (perhaps to a fault) dollop of smooth, buttery caramel, or a yellowish-orange blob of fruit-flavored cream that, when cross-sected, bears an unfortunate resemblance to a fertilized chicken egg. Ignore that. http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....-Interiors.jpg

Note: apparently (and frustratingly), Cadbury makes other varieties that aren't for sale here in the U.S., including Berry Fondant, White Chocolate, Fudge, and perhaps most tantalizingly of all, Mint Creme. Has anyone here tried any of these?

P.S. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yw_gEyg7Nt8

As someone who's never read Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons' landmark "Watchmen" comics, I found myself approaching Zack ("300") Snyder's cinematic adaptation with a strangely liberating sense of open-minded naiveté. There would be no nostalgia for the original work to get in my way, no foreknowledge of the story to color my expectations... for me it would just be a movie, one that I could judge entirely on its own merits.

Not that I didn't have my own biases. Personally I hated "300", and I remain ambivalent about Synder's revered status in Hollywood as a "visionary" director. Still, I went into "Watchmen" prepared to take whatever it could dish out. Nearly three hours later, I stumbled out of the theater, feeling a strange combination of sheer exhaustion, satisfaction, and disappointment.

Exhaustion, because "Watchmen" is a punishing movie, in terms of both its visceral impact and its bloated running time. Satisfaction, because at least in some ways the flick did deliver the kind of slick, provocative "superheroes for grownups" entertainment I'd been hoping for. And disappointment, because for all its bombastic visual splendor and stabs at adult relevance, "Watchmen" ultimately feels empty and nihilistic, a movie that dazzles even as it keeps you at a chilly arms-length distance.

This emotional detachment seems to have become Snyder's trademark, along with elaborate action choreography and jaw-dropping eyefulls of cinematic razzle-dazzle (though, to be fair, he's smarter about using special effects than, say, Michael Bay... at least Snyder keeps focused on the story). There's plenty of character-based melodrama to go with the copious FX, but somehow the film never quite brings any of it to life, never finds much of a reason to care what happens to its tormented cast of "real" superheroes. The script bears much of the blame for this, of course - tonally it careens between legitimately insightful and pretentious (or just sledgehammer blunt: "I knew I should have gotten that abortion!" screams an angry mother by way of illustrating one key character's unhappy childhood).

I honestly don't know how much fidelity "Watchmen" has to its source comics, but what I do know is that as a film it isn't nearly as thematically deep as it pretends to be. For a storyline largely concerned with the ambiguity of vigilante justice, there's very little consequence to the copious bloodletting and bone-crunching violence dished out by the only marginally sympathetic heroes, and little reason to care that there isn't, either. It's a movie about gray areas that doesn't seem to actually have many. As a result, the world doesn't come alive so much as it's simply shown to you, in all its visually impressive glory, while the characters and their attendant dramas don't truly engage so much as they're simply moved around like brightly-colored, overly-verbose pawns in an emotionally manipulative game of chess.

This is not to suggest that "Watchmen" doesn't have its plusses. As I said, the film may be hollow at its core, but like a Fabergé egg, it's certainly stunning to look at, and there are moments that go beyond mere visual splendor to achieve a kind of wonderment. The performances are uniformly solid, and Snyder deserves credit for casting based on ability versus bankability (underrated character actor Matt Frewer makes a welcome appearance, as does little person Danny Woodburn... there's not an A-list star in sight). It's an undeniably ambitious story, and if it doesn't quite hit its mark, it still deserves a lot of credit for going to some legitimately dark and challenging places. Since it does at least partially deliver what it promises, I'm not prepared to label "Watchmen" a failure, but neither can I honestly call it a success. It is what it is: a flawed, fascinating, colorful, cruel spectacle that both underwhelms and overwhelms in equal measures.

No, I'm not talking about Guinness on tap. Neither am I referring to chocolate milk, dessert wine, Mexican cola, fresh squeezed o.j., or chilled piña coladas served up in halved coconuts beachside underneath a palm frond umbrella at Rum Point, Grand Cayman island.

Those are all pleasant enough, to be sure, and better than a poke in the eye. What I'm talking about, though, is a humble-seeming blend of tomato juice, jalapeño pepper, shrimp juice, and a playful smattering of MSG (my drug of choice!). It's Camaronazo, a zippy non-alchoholic cocktail that's currently for sale in California, New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona, and Mexico. Targeted largely at the Hispanic market, it's touted on its official website as ideal for cooking (campechana, sopa de crema de camaron, shrimp "a la diabla"), or for blending with vodka, tequila or beer.

Heck with that, I've just been drinking the stuff straight out of the bottle: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....Camaronazo.jpg

What makes it so doggone good? Why is it so special compared to Clamato, say, or V8 juice? Three reasons, actually. Firstly, because of the shrimp juice, which gives it a subtle seafoody complexity reminiscent of a good Mexi-style shrimp cocktail. Keep your clams; this otter prefers crustaceans. Secondly, because of the jalapeños (bear in mind this only applies to the "picante" version of Camaronazo, which is the only kind that my "tastiest beverage" label applies to. It comes in a heat-free version, but why bother? It's like eating nachos without the cheese.). Many "spicy" cocktails out there cheat by using citric acid in place of real peppers, which provides nothing more than a cheap chemical burn down the back of your throat. By using real jalapeños, you get not only some authentic heat, but also a tasty pepper flavor that blends perfectly with the tomato juice.

Thirdly, and perhaps controversially, there's MSG in Camaronazo - and MSG, which is essentially a flavor enhancer, really does seem to make stuff taste good. (I'm afraid this rules you out if you're one of those unlucky folks who have an allergy). I know it's got something of a stigma here in the States... all I can tell you is that MSG, which is the sodium salt of glutamic acid that is found naturally in seaweed, may in some ways have been the victim of bad PR. There have been many double-blind placebo-controlled experiments that have failed to demonstrate any consistent negative reactions, even in people who believe themselves to be allergic. This is not to belittle or disparage folks who have a legitimate allergy, of course, merely to suggest that a good many folks have heard so many negative things about MSG over the years that they may automatically assume it's going to hurt them and avoid it like the plague. For what it's worth, I've been using MSG as a kitchen spice for years, and I've never suffered any ill effects.

Anyhow, if you're up for a bit of peppery goodness, you don't mind seafood, and you aren't afraid of a little monosodium glutamate, then Camaronazo isn't just a tasty drink, it's a refreshing, salty, tomatoey, shrimpy, spicy blend of pure liquid awesomeness.

This is how you know you're getting older. Think back, if you will, to a time when playing frisbee with your friends took precedent over worrying about taxes. To when your idea of light reading was a collection of 'Garfield' cartoons. To a time when your fondest wish wasn't so much to make your car payments, but to figure out a way to get your flying car to the secret moon base without being spotted by enemy robots. And most of all, hearken back to that innocent, pure time when coconut candy was synonymous with the word "barf".

That's the way it always was for me, anyway. Sure, there were always those one or two weird... weird kids at school who happily devoured Mounds candy bars while the rest of us so rightly regarded them as kryptonite nuggets of death. You think I'm exaggerating? Just think about those occasions when you'd be offered a Whitman's sampler box of chocolate bon-bons. Remember how much you dreaded biting into your selection and finding not a caramel or a mint creme, but a grainy mouthful of shredded, plasticky, sickly-sweet coconut?

Well, I don't know when or how it happened, but somewhere along the line, my palate began to change. I found myself prefering real, dark chocolate over Hershey bars. I started going out of my way to eat fruits and veggies... even brussels sprouts. My tolerance for eating cake frosting out of the jar diminished in direct proportion to a serious rise in my enjoyment of stinky French cheeses. I might once have chalked those changes up to a simple refinement of my existing preferences (heck, I've always sort of liked brussels sprouts), but there's just no way to rationalize this one undeniable bombshell: I like coconut now. Love it, in point of fact.

Case in point: the Zagnut candy bar. If you're anywhere in the vicinity of my age group (here's a hint: your idea of a perfect Saturday morning was a bowl of Crispy Critters cereal and a marathon viewing of "G.I. Joe", "Dungeons and Dragons", and "The Raccoons") then you'll recognize these: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....ter/Zagnut.jpg "Crunchy Peanut Butter - Toasted Coconut" promises the bright red and yellow wrapper, and that's exactly what you'll get once you unwrap one of these ridiculously delicious treats. One look at the candy inside lets you know that this is going to be a pure experience... no waxy chocolate to get in the way, no fake caramel, cookie wafers, or spongy nougat. Just a long, slender stick of buttery, lightly crisp peanut flavored cracknel coated generously with tiny golden brown shavings of flavorful, succulent coconut. These things are awesome.

There, I said it. Coconut is awesome. Damn, I'm old.

Ironically, now that I've come to understand the error of my youthful ways and embraced the Zagnut as quite possibly the tastiest candy bar ever created (it's only possible rival may be the Peppermint Crisp bar from Australia), it turns out that they're getting pretty difficult to find. Where they could once be easily purchased from vending machines and convenience marts across the nation, their limited popularity (sigh) has relegated them to the little-perused wall of nostalgic "cult candy", right alongside Zero Bars, Licorice Snaps, horehound drops and wax lips. The only places I know of to get them anymore are old-timey candy shops (located on Main Street in Small Town, U.S.A.) or via mail order. It figures, that my taste buds finally grow up just in time to watch the twilight years of a candy bar I could have gorged myself on as a kid, if only I'd know any better.

And I don't have a flying car yet, either. Humbug.

Wonderful time at FC this year, but as always, I've come down with some kind of gross post-con bug (mine's got me dry-coughing, itchy-throated, and thoroughly sapped of strength... anybody else experiencing something like this, or is it just me?)

Fortunately for me, I've learned from years past that there are plenty of ways you can make yourself feel, if not like a million bucks, then at least like a fiver and a nice shiny nickel on the side.

First up: listen to the moms of the world and eat your soup. Hot liquid feels great on a sore throat, and those with upset stomachs will have an easier time of it. Clear broth with noodle is the way to go, and you'll particularly want to find some of this stuff if you can: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....yotter/Pho.jpg It's Vietnamese rice noodle soup made with savory beef stock (the broth takes 12 hours to make), sprinkled generously with thin-sliced white onion, cilantro, and green onion. The plate on the right side contains fresh basil leaves, limes, bean sprouts (urgh... I always skip those) and jalapenos, while the one on the left is stacked with thin ribbons of raw, lean steak (you have to ask for that special, but most places I know of will happily serve it that way). Simply drape the steak into the bowl, wait about 15 seconds until it's cooked (but still a little pink), then dip it into a mixture of Sriracha pepper and plum sauce. Mmm.

Next: drink plenty of fluids, particularly this stuff: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....kyotter/OJ.jpg Yep, it's a ginormous jug of fresh-squeezed OJ. Serve chilled for a delicious vitamin C infusion, natch.

No, you can't have one of these: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....er/Martini.jpg Save it for when you're feeling better.

Assuming you've got some appetite after your soup, but you don't want to dump a burger or pizza into your belly, might I suggest something like this: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....r/Chirashi.jpg Not everyone likes fish, of course (tsk), but personally I find that it's one of the most soothing, tasty, and easiest things to digest that you can eat when you're not feeling well. This is a pic of a delicious chirashi lunch I made myself not too long ago, consisting of a jumble of fresh sliced raw salmon and raw tuna belly (fatty tuna) served on a warm bed of sushi-grade rice. Hot damn, it was tasty.

No, seriously, there's nothing this stuff can't fix: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9...../SushiRoll.jpg

And remember, when all else fails, Fonzie Otter will always make you feel better: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....Fonz-Otter.jpg

Let's say that you're trapped in a tight space at night. The lights are out, the phones are dead, and nobody is around except the homicidal maniac who's been trying to murder you with a pickaxe for the last five minutes. Your friend has just been pulled to her death through a dark, open window right in front of you.

Do you:

A) Try to find a weapon?

B) Seriously, try to find a weapon?

C) Walk slowly toward the open window, trembling with fear, so that the killer can pop through it right when you least expect it AAAGGGHHHH!

If you picked 'C', then congratulations, you are squarely in the land of slasher-movie logic, where characters typically do things that defy reason in the interests of making sure that something really scary happens. If you said something like, "I'll pick 'C', but only if it's in 3-D so the pickaxe swoops right into my face and makes me toss my popcorn up into the air," then you get extra bonus points for being in the guilty pleasure realm of Patrick Lussier's exceptionally entertaining old-school remake of 1981's "My Bloody Valentine".

Squarely putting its stakes down in the zone of "switch your brain off and just go with it, it'll be fun", "Valentine 3-D" is just smart enough to know how to be just dumb enough to be a terrific time at the movies. The storyline is classic early 80s-style slice and dice: ten years ago, an industrial accident led to a gasmask-wearing miner going on a berzerk killing spree, before apparently being shot and killed (the body, naturally, is never found). In the present, the survivors of the gruesome massacre are trying to pick up the pieces of their lives, but come Valentine's Day, someone wearing a gasmask and wielding a wicked pickaxe starts carving a bloody swath through town. Has the murderer come back from the dead? Or is it someone else?

Figuring out who the killer is probably won't tax your brain cells too much, but to its credit, "Valentine" doesn't insult your intelligence by trying to be anything other than what it is. Instead, it plays to its strengths by delivering exactly what it promises: ridiculous amounts of gory, bloody mayhem, served up with slick polish and a modicum of intriguing twists and turns to keep you on the edge of your seat. It helps tremendously that Lussier, director of the criminally underrated campfest "Dracula 2000" and Wes Craven's right-hand man on all three "Scream" movies, keeps the flick fast-paced, inventive, and above all entertaining. Clearly, Lussier understands the 3-D concept, and he consistently makes smart use of the gimmick, turning everything from the pointed tip of an axe to flying body parts into an excuse to duck and cover.

I can't honestly vouch for the entertainment value of the non-3-D version of the flick (the cheesy glasses and pointy objects were an integral part of my experience), but I can say that watching it in 3-D made for one of the most enjoyable afternoons out at the movies I've had in a long time.

I thought it was coincidence when https://www.avclub.com reviewed 'The Three Caballeros' and came up with essentially the same points that I did. Then they did their thing on flavored Kit Kats right around when I did. And now, just a week after I wrote up on holiday-flavored Hershey's kisses, they did an article on, yes, holiday-flavored Hershey's kisses.

Either there's a furry at the AV Club who happens to like otters, or I'm just tuned into the same cheesy pop-culture wavelength as those guys. In any case, if you're watching, fellas, I'm available for freelance.

A while back, I griped about how American candy makers were falling behind on the all-important 'creative candy flavors' curve. The Japanese are outstripping us on the Kit Kat front, the English have licorice allsorts, and the Aussies have got both the Cherry Ripe and musk-flavored Lifesavers to contend with. We Americans, however, have traditionally been given the choice of which stuff we want mixed in with our waxy chocolate: crispies, wafers, or crispy wafers.

However, thanks to the good folks who make Hershey's Kisses, we may finally be catching up a bit. I'm old enough to remember when white chocolate kisses and kisses with almonds in them were startling, maybe even dangerous innovations, but now... now there's all kinds of intriguing, kissy goodness to try out. Regrettably, we're still stuck in the 'seasonal offering only - get it while it exists' mode of thinking, which means that even a truly delicious flavor goes bye-bye just as you're finishing off your first and only taste. Still, an ephemeral treat is better than no treat at all. Feast your peepers on these newly-minted flavors: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....idayKisses.jpg

From left to right, you're looking at Pumpkin Spice, Hot Cocoa, Cherry Cordial, Mint Truffle, and Candy Cane.

Pumpkin Spice: Pleasantly creamy, pumpkin pie sort of flavor that reminds me quite a bit of carrot cake.

Hot Cocoa: Tastes like a mouthful of Swiss Miss cocoa mix (the kind with little marshmallow bits in). It's essentially a more fudgy version of a classic Hershey's Kiss.

Cherry Cordial: The outer chocolate shell tastes kind of like a cordial, but when you bite into it, it releases a gusher of chemically-tasting, artificial cherry goo that paints the inside of your mouth. The idea was nice, but this one tastes like cough medicine.

Mint Truffle: Between the sweet chocolate coating and the pleasantly cool, creamy mint center, these remind me a lot of those Thin Mint cookies the Girl Scouts come shilling every year.

Candy Cane: With their festive red and white stripes, these certainly win in the eye candy department. Better still, these pepperminty white chocolates (sprinkled generously with crunchy little candy cane nibs) are pleasantly buttery and minty as well.

Like I said, they're seasonal offerings only, so get 'em while you can. (Skip the cherry one, though. Trust me.)

Two thoughts keep rattling around in my little otterish brain as I contemplate the election... an election which was, in many ways, as historic as any we've yet had.

First thought: George W. Bush has finally created for himself that glorious legacy he's long bragged about. Few presidents have been so openly covetous of a 'legacy' as good ol' W. He's been talking it up pretty much since he took office, and especially since 9/11... he's a 'war president', he's a 'deciderer', he's a uniter, not a divider, etc etc. 'Fraid not, at least on those three counts. Let's face it, his tenure as a war commander has been defined largely by all the things his administration could have gotten right, but didn't (we're bogged down in Iraq, there were no WMDs to be found, we didn't get Bin Laden, al-Qaida is alive and well, we're in debt to the tune of hundreds of billions, we failed to stabilize the middle east... at this point it reads like an anti-greatest hits list).

As a 'deciderer', Bush Jr. has displayed time and again that he's perfectly comfortable making decisions, but much less so changing his mind, or being flexible, or knowing much about what he's 'decidering' on. And finally, as for being a uniter rather than a divider... well, sorry, but the aggravated partisanship that's come to define American politics more than speaks for itself. Not that I blame W. entirely, but really, he was always more than happy to draw a line in the sand when it seemed to suit him (memories of his "if you're not with us, you're against us" attitude still linger long after it's become apparent that that kind of bull in a china shop approach doesn't really work too good. Freedom fries, anyone?)

No, Bush Jr.'s legacy (and I do hope he appreciates this) is simple: after eight years of running this country into the dirt, our nation rose up and elected a black Democrat to take his place. Kudos, Dubya... it's one for the history books.

The second thought I'm chewing on has to do with Prop. 8, that notorious little buggaboo having to do with making sure that gay folks don't start thinking they're as good as regular folks. By now most of the nation is familiar with at least the general stuff - Prop 8 essentially said, 'Marriage is for men and women only... homos need not apply, now or ever.' The rationale for this was considerably convoluted. If you live in California, you doubtless saw what seemed like hundreds of commercials demonstrating that keeping marriage away from queers had nothing whatsoever to do with discrimination, or with not liking gays, or anything like that. No, it was about protecting the children, that favorite chestnut of the moral majority. See, 'cause homosexual agents were going to invade schools and... you know... make your kids be gay (it's awfully hard to pray the gay away if your kids grow up with tolerance and acceptance in their hearts. For shame!) Also, it was about protecting churches, because the government would doubtless step in and firebomb your local church if they failed to promote the homosexualist agenda. Oh yeah, and straight people are more deserving of marriage because it's traditional.

The fallout of Prop. 8 has been as predictable as its passage... foes of it are pissed and heartbroken, while proponents are strutting around crowing about how society has finally put the last nail in the coffin of this whole 'gay' thing. Typical letters to the editor written by those goodly folks who voted 'yay' instead of 'nay' have been something along the lines of, "All you uppity homos need to stop whining and accept the fact that society definitively said that marriage just isn't for the likes of you. Get over it."

Prop. 8's proponents seem to be having a hell of a time understanding why gay people are upset that it passed. To them, it was a simple matter of a political issue being decided at the polls, no different than a sales tax increase or a measure to extend public transit. That's because many of them also cannot conceive of a gay couple being legitimately in love... in their minds, being queer is some kind of misguided lifestyle choice that could be easily undone if only the homos would come to their senses and start being straight like they should. Read between the lines of all the commercials and rhetoric, and you come away with a pretty clear sense of what Prop. 8 was truly a referendum on: Are you comfortable with 'the gays', or are you not?

Here's the thing to consider, though. Sure, Prop. 8 passed... by a fairly narrow margin. Compared to Prop. 22 (same idea), which passed in 2000 by 60-some percent of the vote, Prop. 8 won by only about 52 percent. In eight years, the 'moral majority' has lost quite a bit of its punch. If folks think that the issue has at long last been put to rest, well, they're in for as much of a disappointment as gay couples were the day after the election. Just as surely as you can't legislate homosexuality into societal oblivion, neither can you legislate intolerance so easily into the state's constitution. It'll go to the courts, of course, where 'activist judges' will doubtless chew it over and either overturn it, or at the very least leave it de-fanged... and the homophobes can go on feeling sorry for themselves, as though they're the victims.

Some things do change, though, sometimes slowly (Prop. 8) and sometimes in a burst of lightning (Obama) - but they do change. And considering the last eight years, that's not a bad thing.

So now the Autumn mornings get frosty cold, the leaves turn golden yellow and scatter themselves across the driveway like so much gilded confetti, and the daylight goes silvery cool as the nights get longer and longer. Another Halloween has come and gone, leaving behind another pile of pumpkin guts and horror DVDs. Another round of 'scare the bejeezus out of the little trick-or-treaters with your freaky zombie costume'. Another overflowing candy dish, and yet another wonderfully aching belly. It's been fun (and filling) so far, and Thanksgiving's yet to come.

It may not be turkey day just yet, but that doesn't mean we can't re-live the good times with memories of these spiffy sugary treats: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....oweenCandy.jpg

Starting from top left to right, you're looking at Jones Candy Corn Soda, Halloween Kit Kats, Hershey's Candy Corn and Pumpkin Spice Kisses, and finally a homemade Snickers cupcake (complete with cross-section so you can see the gooey, chocolatey innards).

Here's a quicky breakdown of the snacking experience:

Jones Candy Corn Soda. Every year, Jones Soda gets its weird on with such seasonal 'delights' as Green Bean Casserole, Turkey and Gravy, Salmon Pâté, and Antacid flavors (I kid you not). Candy Corn seems to have become a perennial Fall fave, while other taste treats from years past, such as Creepy Cranberry and Dread Licorice, don't seem to have made it past their debut seasons. I can't vouch for the other freaky flavors (since I wasn't brave enough to try them), but I can tell you that Candy Corn is fairly inoffensive... it's kind of tasty, even. Thing is, though, it doesn't taste anything like candy corn. It's sweet, to be sure, but I'd say it's more like caramelized crème brûlée.

Halloween Kit Kats. They're basically the same thing as white chocolate Kit Kats, which means they taste kind of like sweet, buttery floor wax... just orange colored.

Hershey's Candy Corn Kisses. Now these little suckers are interesting, not least for their striped, multi-colored appearance. Again, I won't say that they taste like real candy corn (because they don't), but they do have an appealing butterscotch flavor.

Hershey's Pumpkin Spice Kisses. Even better than the Candy Corn flavor, IMHO. Rich, buttery and full of autumn spices - if you pretend real hard, they might pass for pumpkin pie. To my palate, though, they taste much more like fresh carrot cake (including the frosting, but without those icky strings of shredded carrot).

Snickers Cupcake. Friend of the family donated a batch of candy-flavored cupcakes this year. In addition to the Snickers ones, there were peanut butter cup and spiced clove. As you can see, the insides of these festive beauties are gooey globs of melted chocolate candy. Hot dang.

Awww, yeah, it's tomato time. No, I'm not talking about those hard, pinkish spheres of compressed granules that you buy at the supermarket, the ones with solid white cores and a vague whiff o' tomato flavor. I'm talking about these little multicolored beauties: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....er/Tomato1.jpg

That's right, it's a bumper crop of fresh, ripe, just-picked and still warm from the sun homegrown heirloom tomatoes. What's the difference, you may ask? Well, let me try to describe the experience. You've just plucked a dead ripe, ruby red San Francisco Fog from the vine you've been lovingly tending to since it was a tender green seedling in early spring. The flesh feels firm yet soft, and the crimson skin is delicately sprinkled with a fine dust of golden fuzz that glimmers in the sunlight. You were thinking about cutting it up into a salad for dinner, but this sucker is just too irresistible... you're going to eat it right over the kitchen sink, ASAP.

The first thing you notice as your knife plunges through the firm skin is the spurt of reddish juice that dribbles down the backs of your fingers - no store bought tomato, even one of those 'still on the vine' things, has any kind of juice in it at all, but this one is leaking all over the place. The scent is strong and pleasantly tangy, a promise of the serious treat you're about to enjoy. It's easy enough to peel, since a fresh, ripe tomato practically jumps out of its skin. Now it's cored and peeled, and your sink is full of a confetti of red skin bits and a splattering of juice and tiny greenish seeds (why didn't you think to put a dish underneath the tomato to catch all that juice? No matter, plenty more where that came from).

Now you slice the fruit into four quarters, taking note of the deep clusters of juicy seeds and the firm, tender flesh... it's still warm from the sun, and your hand is literally soaked in juice. Raise one quarter up to your mouth and pop it in, and the cliche'd phrase 'an explosion of flavor' suddenly doesn't seem so trite - your tongue is awash in a burst of intensely sweet, tangy deliciousness that seems a million miles removed from anything you've ever paid for at the market. Time for those other three slices - whoops, you've already eaten them. No problem... your vines are chock full of dozens more: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....er/Tomato2.jpg

A truly ripe off the vine tomato typically has a flavor that's equal parts sugar and acidity (though many varieties lean more to one side or the other). My personal faves are the S.F. Fog, the Early Girl, the Better Boy, the Lemon Boy, and the rare but well worth it Earl of Edgecomb... all of which strike my palate as a perfect balance of sweet and tangy. Let's not ignore the cherry tomatoes, either, which tend to have an even more concentrated flavor (I recommend the yellow Sun Sugar in particular).

If you've only ever experienced a commercially grown tomato (they're artificially ripened in ethylene, by the way), your first bite of a 'real' tomato can be something of a shock... you've probably never imagined one having such an intense flavor. Personally, except for cooking purposes, I can't stand the store ones. It wasn't until my folks started growing fresh fruits and veggies that I reluctantly took the plunge - but one bite was all it took to turn me into a bona-fide tomato fiend. Now my only regret is that tomato season seems so short.

It's sweet. It's creamy. It's Mexican.

It's rompope, a Spanish version of eggnog. Essentially a blend of eggs, milk, and vanilla, it differs from Amercan eggnog mainly in that it doesn't rely on heavy spices like nutmeg and cinnamon. While the lack of seasonings may leave rompope seeming a bit less zesty than Euro-style eggnog, its creamy simplicity makes it awesome for blending with other stuff to create a vast array of tasty treats.

In Mexico it's often blended with nuts, strawberries, and spices to make special drinks for holidays and wedding celebrations. Indeed, I've found that this rum-based concoction is a spectacularly versatile mixer that can be used with nearly any kind of sweet or spicy liqueur.

My brand of choice is this: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....er/Rompope.jpg

Don't let the stern Catholic nun on the bottle fool you into thinking you're committing a sin... Santa Clara Rompope may look like something you'd pick up at a flea market next to a spread of plastic Jesus dashboard bobbles, but there's no need to feel guilty about sipping its creamy goodness. And, at less than 10 bucks a bottle, you don't need to feel guilty about putting a dent in your pocketbook, either.

These are four of my own 'recipes', each one essentially a one-to-one layering of rompope with another mixer: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....peShooters.jpg

1) Orange Creamsicle - This is a 50/50 mix with orangecello, which is a sweet orange liqueur from Italy. Tastes pretty much like those orange-and-ice-cream bars you used to get from the ice cream truck.

2) Berries & Cream - This one's my favorite. It's made with Chambord, which attentive drinkers will recognize as the raspberry/blackberry liqueur necessary for making a Purple Hooter. It tastes exactly like a dish of fresh berries and whole cream.

3) Chocolate Milk - I made this one out of Vermeer chocolate liqueur, though I imagine any kind of chocolate-flavored mixer would work. I'm pretty sure this is what the Nestlé Quik Bunny drinks when he gets home in the evening.

4) Sweet Melon - That nuclear-green stuff is Midori melon liqueur. This is a great early evening pick me up, especially served chilled on a warm summer night.

These are just the ones that I've come up with so far, but like I said there's little you can't do with rompope. Some other suggestions: try mixing it with grenadine syrup, or Rose's lime, or limoncello, or even Aftershock cinnamon liqueur. After all, everything that tastes good tastes even better when it's creamy.

This sounded like too much fun, so I stole it from  xyanth even though I didn't guess any of his quotes.

Apparently the 'rules' are these:

1. Pick 15 of your favorite movies.
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them here for everyone to guess.
4. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions.
5. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.
6. Those who guess correctly have to do the Meme next!

As far as I'm concerned you can ignore #6, since I've never liked that whole 'chain letter' thing about Memes. Anyhoo, here's some quotes:

1) ‘Tell me what kind of male rats Belldandy likes.’ Adventures of Mini-Goddess  kumatt got it!

2) ‘I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink strokes - at an absolute beauty.’ Amadeus  huey got it!

3) ‘Now I won't have any organs! It'll be like having a Barbie doll crotch!’ Desperate Living  AxelWolf04 got it!

4) ‘If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war.’ Full Metal Jacket  huey got it!

5) ‘In Heaven, everything is fine. In Heaven, everything is fine.’ Eraserhead  thebeast76 got it!

6) ‘You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig.’ The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly  huey got it!

7) ‘How many cups of sugar does it take to get to the moon?’ A Goofy Movie  xyanth got it!

8) ‘You're not running a talk show here, Mr. Berman! You can forget pitching an audience the moral bullshit they want to hear!’ Dawn of the Dead (1978)  radioardilla got it!

9) ‘If you're going to feather a nest, you've got a lot to learn about how to treat a lady.’ The Secret of NIMH  radioardilla got it!

10) ‘He's dead. They stuffed him with pages torn from his favourite book. Could you cook him?’ The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, & Her Lover  thebeast76 got it!

11) ‘Don't fight it son. Confess quickly! If you hold out too long you could jeopardize your credit rating.’ Brazil  dotter got it!

12) ‘Fruity Oaty Bars! Make a man out of a mouse! Fruity Oaty Bars! Make you bust out of your blouse! Eat them all the time! Let them blow your mind... ohh! Fruity Oaty Bars!’ Serenity  moonshadow got it!

13) ‘Well, I wouldn't argue that it wasn't a no holds barred, adrenaline fueled thrill ride. But, there is no way you can perpetrate that amount of carnage and mayhem and not incur a considerable amount of paperwork.’ Hot Fuzz  faradin got it!

14) ‘Would you like a Ding-Dong?’ Bubba Ho-tep  AxelWolf04 got it!

15) ‘They sent in their best man, and when we roll across the 59th Street bridge tomorrow, on our way to freedom, we're going to have their best man leading the way - from the neck up!’ Escape From New York (1981)  radioardilla got it!

We Americans are notorious for our collective sweet tooth, so why is it that all the cool candy comes from places other than America (pop rocks and freeze-dried ice cream notwithstanding)?

Case in point: Kit Kats. If you're from the States, when you think of a Kit Kat, you think of a rectangular sandwich of chocolate and crispy wafers, segmented into four breakaway sticks... it's nice, but not anything to get excited about. It wasn't until the recent trend of 'special edition' candy bars (meaning, candy that isn't around long enough for you to enjoy it more than once or twice before it goes away forever) that the good folks at Nestle deigned to break up the chocolately monotony by giving us white chocolate (floor wax with crispy wafers), mint (not bad, but only available for one month out of the year), caramel (it's that really fake kind that sort of disappears into the candy when you eat it) and occasionally orange (tasty, but good luck finding it).

Our other American Kit Kat innovation? The 'Big Kat', which is not surprisingly just the same as a regular Kit Kat stick, only it's really freaking big. It's the Humvee of Kit Kats.

Now let's jump around to some other countries and see what they... holy crap, they've got hazelnut Kit Kats in Germany? Kit Kat Caramacs in the UK? Honeycomb Kit Kats in Australia? Peanut butter in Canada? Tiramisu? Cookie dough? Dark chocolate with caramelized cocoa nibs? Damn it, but that 'Big Kat' thing is sounding duller by the minute.

Which brings me to Japan, which is without a doubt the epicenter of Kit Kat-y innovation. Even green mint and peanut butter sound pretty bland when you consider the flavors the Japanese get to enjoy. Kiwi Kit Kats? Melon Kit Kats? Grape? Vanilla Bean? Azuki? Cherry blossom? How am I supposed to enjoy my plain ol' boring American Kit Kat when I know that there are Japanese people eating cherry blossom Kit Kats on the other side of the Pacific?

Fortunately for me, though, there's a Japanese supermarket in my neck of the woods, and they have an awesome candy aisle. No, they didn't have Kit Kat Gold (dark chocolate with cocoa powder coating), or café latte with Hokkaidō milk (what I wouldn't give to try that)... but they did have strawberry, raspberry, and apple: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....er/KitKats.jpg

I was so happy I didn't even blink at the $6 price tag (per bag, that is... and that little box containing just two apple-flavored sticks was $5). So, was it worth it? Here's my quicky breakdown of the snacking experience:

Raspberry - Individually wrapped (as is virtually all Japanese candy) double sticks of subtly-flavored chocolate covering a sandwich of faintly pink wafers. The fruit flavor is almost more of an aftertaste than anything, but it's pleasant and blends well with the cocoa.

Strawberry - Whoa, much more intense berry overtones. Double sticks again, this time with somewhat darker pink wafers that have a strong taste of a fakey (but not unpleasant) artificial strawberry flavor. Tastes kind of like chocolate-covered strawberry bubble gum.

Apple - This is the one I was most keen to try, and it's certainly the most unusual. It's a single large stick consisting of the standard chocolate-coated wafers, but with a top layer of some kind of creamy, apple-y stuff. Interestingly, there's a custard overtone that makes the candy taste more like cherimoya fruit than anything.

Hopefully, I'll find some more flavors to try in the future (azuki Kit Kats, where are you?)

As I write this, green pixies and fire-breathing dragons are swarming across my ceiling, creating a nightmarish procession of opalescent phantasms. They taunt me in their helium-pitched voices, bidding me to give up my worldly possessions, shun my friends and family, and to move to Paris, where I shall pursue a hedonistic life of orgies and watercolor painting until my withered, anemic corpse finally drops into the Sienne River, to be fished out and cast away with the morning's forgotten offal.

Okay, no, not really. But I am drinking absinthe, a cloudy green beverage whose decadent history and quasi-illegal status have given it a near-mythical reputation as both a mind-expanding wonder drug and a life-destroying demon beverage from hell. In truth, it is neither, but it's hard to sip the stuff without feeling the ghostly tingle of nearly a century of rumor and hysteria breathing down your neck. After so much bad press, you can't help but expect a mere sip of the stuff to give you a PCP-level freakout.

Buoyed by a reputation as a sophisticated libation favored by artistes and poets, absinthe was once one of the most popular alchoholic beverages in Europe. By 1910, 36 million liters of the stuff were being drunk in France alone. Unfortunately for absinthe enthisiasts, however, by the turn of the century a growing temperance movement, driven in part by hysterical stories of absinthe-fueled rape and murder, turned public opinion away from the drink, and by the early 1900s, absinthe drinkers were often referred to as degenerate 'addicts'. By 1915 it had been banned in nearly every country.

The main cause of this backlash can be traced to one of the key ingredients in absinthe, namely a distillate of the plant Artemisia absinthium, commonly known as grand wormwood. Used mainly to provided a strong flavor of bitters, grand wormwood also contains a chemical called thujone, which has historically been presumed to be a hallucinogen, similar in effec to THC.

Sorry to disappoint, but it just ain't so. Despite many attempts to categorize thujone, and vicariously absinthe, as a psychoactive drug on a level with LSD (or at least a really strong joint), numerous studies have shown that thujone just isn't the mind-blowing freakout it's cracked up to be. Sure, it's a toxic chemical in high enough doses, but anyone binging on absinthe would die of alchohol poisoning long before they started seeing tangerine trees and marmalade skies.

In truth, undiluted absinthe is about as harmful and psychoactive as whiskey, and when properly diluted it's got about the same proof as a glass of merlot. It isn't a drug, and it won't get you high. Sorry.

So what's absinthe like? Well, given that its primary flavorings are anise, fennel and various herbs, it's overriding characteristic is one of black licorice. Unlike a true liqueur, which is often sweet, absinthe is categorized as a spirit, like vodka or rum, and so it has more of a strong 'burn' and less of a syrupy texture. In order to counteract its natural harshness, absinthe has traditionally been prepared by diluting it with ice water and sugar (which I strongly recommend, as it not only lessens the burn, but heightens absinthe's natural herbal flavors).

This preparation is called louching. To do it properly, you will need ice water, a sugar cube and an absinthe spoon (or a fork, which works just fine). Pour a shot of absinthe into a glass. Now set your absinthe spoon (or fork) over the rim of the glass, and place a sugar cube onto it. Carefully pour the ice water through the suger cube... you'll notice that the absinthe immediately turns cloudy and light green on contact with the water (the French root word louche simply means 'cloudy' or 'opaque'). Let the sugar cube dissolve into the liquid, stirring in any unbroken pieces. Now sit back and enjoy your absinthe, you sinful bohemian.

I'm not sure if this has ever happened to you, but this is the second time it's happened to me... you fire up your player, unwrap a brand-spanking-new DVD, and pop open the clamshell case, only to find yourself faced with a perplexing conundrum - the case is empty. No disc. No movie. Just a circle of emptiness where a DVD ought to be.

Unfortunately for me, I no longer have the receipt for the movie in question, so there's no chance of a refund or exchange. I'll have to cough up the retail price all over again. Two thoughts arise as I ponder this situation. Firstly, I'm annoyed with myself for not saving the receipt (I have no idea what I did with it, but it's gone, so that's that). Secondly, what the hell is wrong with a DVD distribution company (Anchor Bay, in this case) that they factory seal and ship out a fucking EMPTY DVD CASE? How does that even happen?

If you're like me, you're busy this month stocking up on delicious beverages so you can sip your way to a warm 'n' toasty contentment. Personally, I can't imagine my holidays being complete without these cold-weather favorites. Follow the link to look at a horrible, horrible picture and see what I'll be using to put some roses in my cheeks this Xmas: http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a9.....ritsofXmas.jpg

1) Oronoco Rum. One of my faves, it's crisp, sweet and has a nice 'sugarcane' overtone, making it perfect for mixing up froo-froo holiday cocktails.

2) Cointreau. Any time a drink recipe calls for triple sec, try substituting this delicious, bittersweet orange liqueur. It also makes an awesome margarita, if you're planning a Caribbean Christmas this year.

3) Anchor Steam 2007 Christmas Ale. The recipe is slightly different every year (as is the picture on the label). This year's blend is spicy, rich and goes down perfectly before, during and after a prime rib dinner.

4) Bowmore 15-Year Scotch. A fine example of Islay style whisky, which is characterized by a smoky, peaty richness that's nicely enhanced by a hint of sea salt. You can actually taste the ocean breeze coming in off of the waters of Loch Indaal in every sip.

5) No. 209. Quintuple-distilled in San Francisco and bursting with juniper, licorice and coriander, it's my new favorite gin. Either served straight up (and icy cold) or mixed into a martini, this stuff is everything that's good about gin.

6) Vya. Speaking of martinis, this swanky vermouth is exactly what you'll need to blend up a perfect gin cocktail to ring in the new year with. It's double the price of most other labels but well worth it.

7) Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale. A delicious winter brew with a perfect balance of hoppy goodness and a toasty, faintly chocolatey flavor.

8) McCormick's Platte Valley Corn Whiskey. That's right, it's good old fashioned corn mash whiskey like they don't hardly make no more. Unlike bathtub moonshine, though, this stuff is sweet and smooth, and has an appealing 'candy corn' flavor.

9) Johnny Walker Gold Label. Not to knock the Black Label, but once you've had this stuff it's kind of hard to go back.

10) Christmas Beaver.

11) Johnny Walker Blue Label. Not to knock the Gold Label, but good lord this is the smoothest and most sippin'-est whiskey I've ever had.

12) Bols Advocaat. When you're tired of egg nog, reach for a bottle of this thick, delicious liqueur. It's made of egg yolks, cream and spices, and it tastes like vanilla brandy custard.

13) Pepto Bismol. Yes.

It's sticky. It's sweet. It tastes like mead. It comes in a bottle shaped like a beehive.

It's Bärenjäger, and it comes from Germany. The name means 'bear hunter', in case you wondered. Essentially it's a blend of honey, vodka, and a touch of spice. Like a lot of sweet liqueurs, it's delicious, but kind of on the strong side... not something you'd want to drink straight up, but it's certainly got its uses when you want to mix up something snappy for dessert.

After a bit of experimentation, here are three things about Bärenjäger I learned:

1) Mixing one part Bärenjäger with one part triple sec results in a drink I call the Urinal Cake, for obvious reasons. Give this one a skip.

2) Mixing one part Bärenjäger with one part creme de cacao gives you a potent little shot I named Chocolate Honeycomb. It's not bad, but a bit harsh. One is all you'll want.

3) Mixing one part Bärenjäger with one part Gosling's Black Seal rum is not a good idea.

No, what you'll really want to make with Bärenjäger is this spiffy little shooter, which I call Honeybutter.

In a shot glass, and using the back of a spoon, layer:

One part butterscotch schnapps (buttershots)
One part Bärenjäger
One part Irish Cream

Knock back in one slug, and let it dance around on your tongue before swallowing. It's buttery, sweet, and rich - perfect for cold weather, or for those who want something other than eggnog this holiday season.

Bonus Beverage - Kokuto Ume-shu Liqueur.

Do you like plum wine (ume-shu)? Do you like brown sugar (kokuto)? If you said 'yes' to both, then kokuto ume-shu is for you. Unlike regular plum wine, this stuff is blended with brown sugar, which imparts a strong (but not overpowering) flavor of dark molasses. Surprisingly, the sweetness of the plum and the richness of the sugar go quite well together. Best sipped chilled, or over ice.

It just wouldn't be Halloween without some scary flicks to go with your popcorn balls and candy corn. No, don't just rent 'Pulse' or 'The Ring 2'... here are some suggestions for a fun night of creepy entertainment with some movies you probably won't see on Cinemax's Spooktacular Night of Blah-Blah Thrills.

Vampires - Rabid Not a traditional fangs 'n crucifixes kind of affair. David Cronenberg's typically chilly, clinical approach gives an air of sleazy respectability to this ridiculous-sounding story, in which a skin graft gone wrong turns former porn starlet Marylin Chambers into a sort of plague-spreading pseudo-vampire who sucks blood through a penis-like mutation in her armpit.

Ghosts - The Devil's Backbone A thematic companion film to 'Pan's Labyrinth', Guillermo del Toro's atmospheric ghost story is set in a bomb-riddled orphanage during the fallout of the bloody Spanish Civil War, circa 1939. Though it's ultimately more about the horrors that the living inflict upon each other, del Toro still dishes up some remarkably frightening supernatural shocks along the way.

Werewolves - The Company of Wolves One of the strangest werewolf movies ever made, and also one of the most visually sumptuous. Neil Jordan and Angela Carter's neo-Freudian fairy tale is a haunting fever dream that deals directly with the carnal nature of lycanthropy. It’s bloody, erotic and dripping with fantastical imagery.

Frankenstein - Flesh for Frankenstein Originally rated X on its 1974 release, Paul Morrissey's jaw-dropping take on Mary Shelley's classic novel features fountains of gore, pulsing viscera, full-frontal nudity, and Udo Kier in one of his best roles ever. Conceived more as a snarky satire than a true horror flick, this is a bizarre hybrid of gorgeous cinematography, over-the-top violence and deliberately, hysterically awful dialogue. Just try not to laugh out loud at the “To know death, Otto...” line.

Mummies - The Robot vs. The Aztec Mummy If ever there was a case of truth in advertising, this 1957 film is it. 'See the relentless machine battle the gruesome corpse!' screamed the tagline. A mad scientist who looks kind of like Orson Welles builds a lumbering robot (out of cardboard, aluminum siding and a dead Mexican, apparently) and pitches it in battle against a grunting Aztec mummy that kind of resembles Leatherface if you freeze-dried him. The stiff English dubbing makes this even funnier.

Monsters - The Great Yokai War In traditional Japanese folklore there are hundreds of kinds of supernatural creatures (yokai), and it seems like most of them make appearances in Takashi Miike's gloriously strange action/horror/fantasy children's movie. Snake-headed ladies, hopping corpses, turtle men and paper lantern ghosts are just a few of the monsters on display here, but you may find yourself more scared of whip-wielding Chiaki ('Kill Bill's Gogo Yubari) Kuriyama as a vicious sprite who enjoys abusing cute little animals.

Zombies - Dead and Buried Director Gary Sherman originally wanted this creepy tale of the undead in a seemingly peaceful Rhode Island seaside town to be a dark comedy, but supposedly his producers forced him to tone down the humor while playing up the story's vicious murders. It may not be what Sherman had intended, but as it stands, this paranoid, fog-drenched mystery is tense, gory and squirm-inducingly cruel.

Demons - The Church For those who believe Halloween to be the Devil's holiday, here's a heaping spoonful of delicious blasphemy. Stylishly filmed by Michele Soavi, who's worked as assistant director for the likes of Terry Gilliam, this Italian flick is surprisingly ambitious in scale for a story that features rampant demons, torture, decapitations, impalements, a bloody village massacre, and death by jackhammer. All this, plus you get to see a horny goat-headed lizard demon make sweet love to female lead Barbara Cupisti.

I can only speak for m'self, but I firmly believe that any form of human expression is 'art'. Drawing, painting, writing, making films, cooking, even just talking... it can all be seen as a representation of a thought or feeling, and that, IMHO, is the very essence of art.

As to what makes something 'good', 'bad', or 'just not my thing'... well, obviously that's up to the individual. It’s one of the world’s oldest cliches to say that one person’s junk is another person’s masterpiece. That being the case, then, trying to pin down even a basic outline of standards (ie, all 'good' art has to match this or that criterion) is, in my experience, only going to lead to frustration. It’s like trying to tell someone what their favorite color ought to be. Ultimately, we can only make those decisions for ourselves - but that's what makes art so fascinating, because how we react when we look at it reflects a lot about who we are.

This is going to sound awfully 'kumbaya' of me, but I really do think the world would be a vastly improved place if we could all learn to see ourselves as artists. It's frustrating to me that so many people have the notion that 'art' is some rare and lofty subject, the exclusive domain of scholars and philosophers who alone are somehow qualified to appreciate it. That kind of thinking diminishes art. It strips it of its universal appeal by metaphorically locking it away under sterile glass like an insect to be studied and catalogued. It makes art seem separate from all other aspects of our lives, as though the only 'real' art out there is a handful of expensive paintings and dusty statues tucked away in a few Greek-columned museums. Worse, it gives us the mistaken impression that there is a 'right' and 'wrong' way to think about the very concept of art.

People shouldn't be intimidated by art, but I understand why many of us are. We're taught practically from day one that art is born of some mysterious, impenetrable creative impulse that only a few vastly gifted individuals are graced with. (Regrettably, there are plenty of artists out there who enjoy playing into this illusion... hey, who doesn't like to feel special?) I can't begin express how dismayed I get whenever I see or hear people pushing the notion that art works on some secret magical plane that most of us will never be special enough to touch.

Unfortunately, what we end up with then are a whole lot of folks who think of art only as a big, complicated, scary subject that's better left to the experts. Again, this frustrates me, and for two reasons. Firstly, because 'art', as I said before, is everywhere. It's in our books, our movies, our architecture, our language, our adverts and our products. It's on our radios and on our dinner plates. It's plastered across billboards and scribbled in magic marker on bathroom walls. It’s in the wavy lines on the side of your plastic soda cup, and it’s in the color scheme you picked out for your bathroom towels. It's everything we do to express who we are, and as such it's at the very heart of what makes us human.

And secondly, because what this all means is that everyone is, in their own way, an artist.

Here's a spiffy drink I just learned how to make today that's perfect for late-summer evenings. It's a popular South American cocktail called a Paulistano.

In a tumbler, muddle together 3 key limes and 6 to 8 fresh mint leaves. Pour the juice and rinds into a cocktail shaker. Now add one part silver rum (I used Oronoco rum, which is niiiiice and smooth) and one part pineapple juice. Chase with a splash of Grand Marnier. Add lots of ice and shake-shake-shake! Strain the whole thing into a chilled cocktail glass. Now kick back and sip your delicious beverage, preferably with a lemonade-colored late evening summer sky in the background.

I found that adding a splash of grenadine syrup gave it a nice cherry-flavored kick... I don't know what it's called when you add grenadine, so I dubbed it the 'Otter Sunset' because it's pink. Mmm, tasty.