BAKER STREET

by Eric J Baker

Sarah Palin for President!

That’s the outlandish claim our own James Killough made on this very blog just a few days ago. As a man who is deeply concerned for America’s future and its position in the new global economy, I find his viewpoint disturbing and irresponsible at best, and I hope to restore rational thinking to these pages immediately. That’s why I’m endorsing Michele Bachmann.

This image of "Harry Potter" star Daniel Radcliff naked hanging out with a horse, which is distinct from being hung like a horse, is completely gratuitous and bears no relationship to this article.

My reasons are twofold. First, I want to top Killough when it comes to showing poor judgment. We’re competitive in that way. Second, my grandmother used to say, “Fortune favors the bold, Eric.” I wasn’t listening because her dentures kept falling out (which is upsetting and confusing to a four-year-old child), but I’ve since learned what she meant: People who take risks are successful. And what’s riskier than electing a raving lunatic madwoman president?

Don't even think about trying to rain on Bachmann's parade.

Look at Bachmann’s eyes. Aren’t they the glassy, soulless eyes often ascribed to serial killers in suspense novels? A lot of politicians are vapid, but I’m not sure if Michele Bachmann even knows she exists. She’s a human virus; a demented automaton; a smoke monster finally free of The Island and ready to wreak havoc on the world (by way of Minnesota’s 6th congressional district). We should give this woman access to nuclear bombs, no?

As with Killough and his Palin promotion, my Bachmann boost is satirical. Michele, my belle, has no chance in a national election. We joke, but maybe Palin or Bachmann wouldn’t be so bad, aside from the virtual guarantee that they’d each bring about Armageddon. At least female politicians don’t think with their dicks.

Let’s consider. What are the odds of a Senator Sarah Palin molesting a congressional page? Or Michele Bachmann sending a picture of herself in camel-toe undies to a Twitter follower?

Her fellow congressional rep, the appropriately named Anthony Weiner, most likely did not use the electronic superhighway to share an image of his erect penis earlier this week. But the fact that we think he might have says a lot about the men we elect. After all, former New Jersey governor James McGreevey used a real-life superhighway, the New Jersey Turnpike, to show his erect penis to various men in rest-stop bathrooms during his administration.

Jersey represent!

At this point in PFC's blogging history, we are ethically bound to inform Taschen if there is any infringement of their proprietary images. It is pretty clear where Representative Weiner drew his inspiration for the Tweet of his wiener.

The scrappy (or obnoxious, depending on your political affiliation) Weiner says he’s sure he didn’t send the picture, but he also won’t deny it was his nether region in the photo. Really, Congressman? You might have taken a boner pic and posted it, but someone else sent it to your 21-year-old female Twitter follower? If Palin were caught in a similar scandal, even she, a halfwit, would know better than to publicly joke about it. We men have no sense when our dicks get a featured role in life’s movie, do we?

Weiner’s appendage is not the only New York dick with problems these days. Dick Wolf, the television producer behind NBC’s one-time juggernaut, Law and Order, appears to be experiencing shrinkage.

The original Law and Order, which ran for 20 years and aired 456 episodes, finally recused itself from the prime-time schedule last year (ha! top that pun, fuckers!), leaving us with ubiquitous reruns and a new game called Who was the hottest Assistant District Attorney? By the way, if you said, “Michael Moriarty,” you’re so wrong, it’s tragic. I’m partial to Elizabeth Röhm, but other answers are acceptable.

With the bland Law and Order: Los Angeles cancelled after only one season and Law and Order: Criminal Intent (with Vincent D’Onofrio as Columbo-meets-Hannibal-Lecter) relegated to basic cable, Law and Order: Special Victims Unit is the last network edition standing. Perhaps not for long, though.

We need to break up all this yammering with an image. We couldn't find one of D'Onofrio's dick, so his nipple rings from "The Cell" will have to do.

Given the theme of today’s story, I’m contractually obligated to make this joke: Special Victims Unit star Christopher Meloni must have a pretty big unit himself, since he just walked away from a 300K-plus-per-episode deal for a 13th season. Apparently he hasn’t gotten the memo about what happens to actors who leave popular shows after more than a decade of playing the same character. Word on the street (the “street” being unfounded speculation on the Internet) is that co-star Mariska Hargitay’s departure isn’t far behind.

An even dumber rumor has NBC considering Jennifer Love Hewitt as a new detective on the show. Because nothing says hard-boiled New York cop like Jennifer Love Hewitt. Can’t you see her (ghost) whispering into a perp’s ear during an interrogation, “Whatsa matter, freak? Real women laugh at your tiny pecker so you have to go after little girls? Is that it? You’d better start talking or you’re going to Riker’s. You know what they do to perverts at Riker’s, don’t you?”

Tough gal Jennifer Love Hewitt is the token petite brunette for this Baker post.

I say bring Michele Bachmann in to replace Meloni. One glare from those blue pools of hate, those portals onto the heart of Satan’s lair, and I’d confess to the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. If Bachmann took over SVU, America would be a safer place in two ways. One, she’d clean up our streets by shooting scumbags on sight (because everyone is guilty on Law and Order) and, two, she’d be far, far away from Washington DC and any chance of influencing policy.

Much harder to find than Law and Order reruns are theater screens showing the new Mike Mills film, Beginners, which I had hoped to watch and review this weekend, to determine if it’s the quirky, intelligent dramedy it should be or the sentimental, manipulative tear jerker it might be. And if it were called Kung Fu Panda 2, you’d have your review. Unfortunately, KFP2 is playing on more screens in my town than Beginners is in the whole world. That makes today’s score: Crass Commercialism 1, Taste 0.

The buzz for topic Beginners is the performance of Christopher Plummer as an elderly man who, following the death of his wife, decides to come out of the closet as a life-long homosexual. Critics are also praising Ewan McGregor, who plays Plummer’s son, and French actress Mélanie Laurent as the love interest.

The exhibitionist McGregor as the bisexual who gets scribbled on (don't they all?) in Peter Greenaway's "The Pillow Book"

I’ll tell you right now, I’d consider switching teams for Ewan McGregor. That’s a good-looking man right there. Plus, he’s got a sexy voice – and – he played Obi Wan Kenobi. That last attribute might not mean much to the gheys, but we straight men are super turned on by it. We’re talking about Obi Wan friggin’ Kenobi here, for God’s sake! Luckily for my sexual identity, Ms. Laurent is on hand to remind me why I like girls. She’s got feminine grace, a soulful gaze, and one the greatest, most camera-seducing profiles in cinema. Also, McGregor likes to show his junk all the time. Nothing stops my latent homosexual tendencies dead in their tracks faster than seeing a guy’s dick. **shudders**

Judging from the content here at Pure Film Creative, Killough doesn’t seem to mind such a thing, so maybe he’ll give us the scoop on Beginners sometime this week. It’s playing on two screens in Los Angeles, a city where you won’t find the cast of Law and Order: LA or Michele Bachmann, who’s probably sitting in a Minnesota multiplex somewhere, getting ideas for her foreign policy platform from watching Kung Fu Panda 2.