Jordan Hoffman Dot Com

I had held on to Goober this tight when the kidnappers took him away!

Goober has been in Long Island for almost a month now, with no timetable for a return. An act of liberation may be in order.

You have no idea how loud Goober is when he snores.

Jerusalem’s top clerics united in their hatred towards gays.

Everyone loves pictures!

Cool! There’s a Hoffman St. in the Bronx:

Ann, Denise & Garrett rock out one cold night in Astoria:

Cheers!

Welcome to Coat Heck!

Icicles on the side of Mount Forgottenname on the Mohawk Trail:

3 photos of health food:

Kim working on Ann’s recipe for peanut-lime Thai chicken:

Bet you weren’t expecting this:

I have so many friggin’ pictures of the Gates on my hard drive:

James Ruchala plays the Psychadelic Auto Harp:

Rob eating cheese, looking over his shoulder:

Richard Serra’s giant steel structures:

A stuffed tiger with arrows in it. I don’t know either:

Ann pointed out that it looked like Laurie had a tracheatomy:

What the hell is my father wearing??

Me & Ann at a concert:

Why are lighthouses romantic? Stop signs aren’t romantic!

In case you needed more proof: Bipartisan Panel announces W. was dead wrong in his reasoning for leading American to war. Bush, Cheney, Powell, Rice, Rumsfeld — lying scoundrels. But lucky lying scoundresl, as this report is released the day Terry Schiavo dies. Coincidence? Why not? It’s obvious we are meant to believe anything.

Mother Jones on the GOP’s way with words

Not because it is too violent. Not because I’m sick of comic book movies (although I am). And not because I am broke. But because it has a “special guest director.” I watch an awful lot of movies, and I can’t recall ever seeing the credit “special guest director” before. That said “special guest director” is Quentin Tarantino, a man bested only by Kevin Smith for ruining cinema, is even more reason to run screaming for the hills.

Woody Allen’s marvelous play adapted to film, the first work in his canon that actually has some character development and story arc. Lots of classic gags, a few of which are dated, making this even better. Woody’s persona is still being fine tuned — it’s still two parts Bob Hope, one part Groucho — and Tony Roberts and Diane Keaton are fantastic as Tony Roberts and Diane Keaton. The film is great, though not as memorable as the Lakewood Prep Theater Group’s production in 1990.

Blast from the fucking past, man. I played this tape non-freaking stop in 4th grade. I was fascinated with its trippy synthetic noises (we’d call it electronica now) mixed with its furious need to rock. If you can’t remember this was a one-off side project consisting of two of the dudes from Duran Duran who obviously needed to show that they had some testosterone, Robert Palmer before he hit big, and some kickass black drummer whose name I don’t recall. I’ve been able to download 6 of the 8 tracks that make up this hidden gem. I dunno what made me think of this album, but I am having a blast listening to this stuff.

[Note -- I have since found the remaining two tracks since first publishing this. And if the RIAA is reading -- I purchased this album at retail price in 1984. . . the tape may still be in a box in my parents' house. . .so I have every right to have a digital copy.]

A made-for-television oddity the mere mention of which brings back a Proustian rush of developmental hormones. William S. Repsher reminded me of this film in his landmark piece on 70s cinema a few years back. I actually saw “Cotton Candy” during its 1981 prime time broadcast. (What was it doing on the shelf for 3 years? Did it play at drive-ins?) I was 6 or 7 and my older sister and the baby sitter, one Gail Stasko, who had hair so feathered she could have been stabbed by Jason Voorhees, were watching it. I was only half paying attention until the notorious strip-poker sequence. You see, the nascent rock band Cotton Candy (who may or may not defeat Rapid Fire at the Battle of the Bands. . .a Battle of the Bands, mind you, set at a “Dawn of the Dead”-era mall) is jamming at the garage when the lights go out. They are still getting to know each other so a game of strip poker is in order. But wait?!? Will foxy drummer-cum-chemistry major (she’s going to M.I.T. on scholarship next fall – or is she?) Brenda Matthews play too? You bet she will! She’s part of the band! Anyway, the strip-poker scene. . .the least erotic three minutes of cinema. . .kept me up nights. Hey — I was 7! Anyway, don’t look for this film anywhere. Bill got his copy through his underworld 70s connections — a VHS copy of the 1981 broadcast, complete with commercials (one of which starring Seinfeld’s mother shilling for Pine Sol — another with Orson Wells shilling for white wine!) A remark must be made about young Brenda: today, she’d be cast as the female lead’s ugly friend. Has cosmetic surgery changed Hollywood that much? The answer — yes, you idiot. A shame, because the women on, say, the O.C., even though they force quotas from other races in there, all look the same. Brenda — eyes too close together, a few extra pounds on her — she had her own look. Anyway, if you ask nicely you can come over and watch my dub of it. Some of the songs, I must admit, don’t absolutely suck.

A masterpiece. Firstly, any film with Irving Howe, Saul Bellow, Susan Sontag and the voice of Betty Boop is going to earn high marks. It’s one of Woody’s most original concepts, but very heartfelt. Mia Farrow is terrific here — and what’s amazing is that you mostly see her in old photographs. I’d forgotten just how funny this picture was. A lot of classic Woody zingers actually derive from this, one of his more “serious” films.

If you don’t have Kerry Douglas Dye around to solve your Rubik’s Cube for you, you may need this robot.

Almost as cool as the Rubik’s Cube Saturday Morning Cartoon Show:

[NOTE -- after a few hours, the robot link is coming up 404. I'm gonna leave it up in the hope the little movie comes back again. It is just that awesome. If not -- do your own damned Google search -- try Florida Institute Technology Rubik's Cube Robot and see what happens. Trust me, it is worth it.]

Whipped out this old chestnut last night. It’s great ’cause there are some songs, like Mr. Moonlight, I’ll Follow The Sun and Every Little Thing that you haven’t so many times that you just don’t hear ‘em anymore, y’know? Made good background as Ann and I played Speed Trivial Pursuit with the Rozger Variation. You know what Speed Trivial Pursuit with the Rozger Variation is, right?

Speed Trivial Pursuit is when you play where every question you get right wins you a colored triangle. Land on Yellow once, anywhere on the board, get your Robert McNamara question right and you’ve got your yellow piece. When you get all 6, head for the center just like normal play.

The Rozger Variation, introduced to me by Jason Rozger, is this: instead of the opposing team searching the next card for the hardest question as you attempt to win the game, the candidate must answer 4 of 6 questions correctly on the card. From Blue straight through to Orange. A very exciting way to end play.

The coolest thing ever to come from Roger Ebert’s pen: “No movie featuring either Harry Dean Stanton or M. Emmet Walsh in a supporting role can be altogether bad.”

It’s funny — this loving ode to Middle America was financed by the French, photographed by an Englishman and scored by an Italian. The title isn’t just a pun (Alvin Straight’s story goes “straight” down the road . . .or “straight” to your heart. . .or whatever) but also serves as a reminder that great directors, yes, know what they are doing. Whenever you watch something like “Mullholland Drive” and wonder, “wait a sec, is David Lynch really full of shit?” the answer is “no.” Much like Jackson Pollack could paint bowls of fruit if he wanted to (answering the annoying remark of “my grandson could do this”), Lynch can tell a (ahem) straight story if he wants to. Try not to tear up at the end. I dare ya.

Bing. One of the greatest albums ever. Listened to it nonstop in 1991. Then again in 1994. I sense a second revival coming on. Mascis & Dinosaur have released other great works — but nothing like this. It’s all the drums. And, um, the melodies. And emotion. Jurgen: there’s a song called Muck!

This movie gets extra points just for originality. You can read Thoman Freidman’s columns until you are blue in the face but to actually see the minutae of life in the occupied territory during the Intifada brings about an entirely different reality. The problem with this from a movie-going perspective, of course, is that a little bit of mundane aggrivation goes a long way. This movie is fascinating. But it is also boring. It also doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It is weighed down with an absurdly thin ticking clock and characters that are a little hard to read. I much would have preferred a dismissal of this roundabout plot and one of those lost-character-wandering-around films like Morvern Callar. Lord knows the setting is interesting enough.