Anatomy of a Dickhead

THE WEEK FROM MY VIEW

My Shriekin’ Rican, Willy, has been very excited about today for a couple of weeks now.  “Ju know,” he said the other day in the kitchen.  “It’s berry good to start anything on this day.  It’s once, once, once—eleben, eleben, eleben—which in numerology means…”

“Stop,” I interjected.  “That’s too much bullshit for my first cup of coffee.”

“Okay.  Anyway, we gonna have a pahty.”

Poutrel was in “Sarah’s Key,” which I panned earlier in the week. She does stand out despite the fact she has no lines and literally wades through the film. I found her mesmerizing.

I’m still trying to figure out if there’s some poetic meaning behind the Spanish spelling of eleven being ‘once’ and it being repeated three times today, but it just reads like a repetitious excerpt from a sentence in an early Hemingway novel.  It has no meaning symbolically any more than it does numerologically.  Still, we are launching this new segment of the blog on this auspicious day, 11.11.11, which is a sort of Week in Review the New York Times would never run, but which hopefully will be entirely inappropriate in an apropos PFC kinda way.

Full Moon on Monday

BAKER STREET 

by Eric J Baker

So how about Zachary Quinto playing Chad, the flaming bottom-bitch ghost on American Horror Story, in the same week he decided to publicly out himself? I think Quinto has an intense, camera-friendly face and is a pleasure to watch, so let’s hope his career is not damaged by the recent bombshell (it figures, though, that the guy who got to make out with Zoë Saldana in Star Trek is the one guy who wouldn’t want to in real life). Oh yeah, American Horror Story

For those wondering if Spock and Kirk were lovers, you're halfway there.

Regular Sunday readers know I’ve been covering FX’s lurid new haunted house series for the past month, and the show continues to push basic cable boundaries. Before this week’s opening credits ran, Quinto’s on-screen lover (Teddy Sears) boasted about cheating on him with a “power bottom” at the gym… then both of them were killed by the vinyl-suited fetish phantom that looks like a shiny version of The Gimp from Pulp Fiction. The two dead men returned to haunt the house’s current occupant, Dylan McDermott, throughout the episode, including a sequence in which Sears grabbed McDermott’s crotch and offered him head (Spoiler Alert: He declined).

Sarah Palin's Toenails

Morons Talking Loudly

As a friend from out of town noted the other day after a simple lunch at Gingergrass in Silverlake, “We’ve spent hundreds of dollars dining out at expensive restaurants in LA, all of them mediocre.  The best food here is in the cheaper places.”  Which is very true.  One of the best-kept Mexi Cali open secrets in this town is the unpretentious La Esquinita on Sunset Boulevard in Echo Park.  It is not only embarrassingly cheap—to the point where you feel like you should maybe offer them a bit more for the delicious bounty they have served you—everything is made absolutely fresh right after you order it.  Regrettably, this includes the fat-bitch chips and salsa.

I say ‘regrettably’ not just because the chips are served in true Mexican style, or warm and coated with oil, accompanied by a choice of several homemade salsas, but because they make a very loud noise when you bite into them, at least twice the loudness of ordinary bagged chips from a store.  And this only added percussion to the braying of a moron seated at the center table of the small restaurant one lunchtime last week.

Arya Stark Game of Thrones

So Many Gods

by James Killough

In the fourth book of the Game of Thrones series, the reluctant tomboy exile Arya Stark of Winterfell arrives in the free city of Braavos, described as a cross between Venice in its heyday as a Republic and ancient Rhodes: a colossus statue-fort called the Titan straddles the entrance to a lagoon city built on a hundred islands.  The citizens are distinctly Italianesque in their suave charm and balletic swords skills.

Arya has already spent the past four years, since she was eight, and over three thousand pages, being buffeted about in a series of extraordinary and gruesome circumstances, which no child should ever be subjected to.  But hers is an eternally medieval world; even though she is one of the heirs to a powerful feudal kingdom, she has had more bad luck than an urchin born in the slums of Mumbai.