for 20 December 2000. Updated every WEEKDAY.

Tim Cavanaugh
Special Guest Editor

Terry Colon
Art Director

Heather Havrilesky
Senior Editor

Joey Anuff
Publisher

Speaking of horses, did you notice that some enterprising movie theater could make a double bill of The Time of Drunken Horses and All The Pretty Horses? I guess the horses look prettier when they get drunk...

Richard Von Busack
<regisgoat@earthlink.net>

Oh, the horse thing is a definite trend. It sounds like you haven't even heard of Dream with the Horses or The Horse Careless Whisperer or The Black Stallion II: Deeper, Longer, and Uncut or even Not Without My Horses.

Stupid,

Polly

Polly:

You must not have good cheeseburgers where you live. Come to Fulton Street Bar, Fulton and Masonic, San Francisco (motto: "Go Fuck Yourself") and the days of toxicity will be long gone. Plus they know how to pour their Guinness.

See ya,

Andrew Sullivan
<ajsullivan@att.com>

There's no way the cheeseburgers there are be better than they are at Hot 'n' Hunky (motto: "Fuck Me"), 18th at Noe.

Cheeseburgers in Paradise,

Polly

Dear Polly

I recently rented Fight Club on video. What a great movie! Today I was reading Filler and it struck me: Fight Club is pretty full of Filleresque sensibility. Why not return the favour and put some Fight Club in an upcoming Filler? Recycle: it's the only way to fight entropy.

Thankfully sincerely yours,

Rob Milson
<milson@mathstat.dal.ca>

Hey, you're right. Brad Pitt and Ed Norton really need my boosterism to stay in business, after all.

But instead of infusing Fight Club into Filler, which is incredibly hard to imagine, let me just say that I really liked that movie, too. Particularly the first 20 minutes. I'm not sure how it all fits together, in the end — things get pretty absurd and sloppy and preachy and the last time I checked, when someone sticks a pistol in their mouth and pulls the trigger, they need more than a little piece of gauze to keep from coding. But then, you know, they play that great Pixies song, and shit starts blowing up, so I'm basically fine with it.

I'm always eager to suspend my disbelief as long as there are enough bells and whistles to keep me temporarily distracted. As long as the acting is good and the story is interesting, believability is a mere technicality, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, this is the movies. Who needs to believe? Who fucking cares? To some people this makes me "stupid" and "sad"; to others, this qualifies me for "sympathy" and "charitable donations". To me, this makes me "bearable" and "a good person to take to an IMAX movie, but only after a triple frappucino."

But then, can I really be a trusted source of reasonable perspectives? I think not.

I like mine with lettuce and tomato,

Polly

Dude, so like I'm sure you're onto something with the whole toxic gas in the mall theory, but can I believe your figures? I thought it was caused by dyes in the cloths, eh?

gillio
<cadilac@wyoming.com>

No, you cannot believe my figures. In fact, please disregard all further information, and keep all sharp objects away from me and anyone who chooses to associate with me.

Dangerously sluggish,

Polly

ok, i've endured the people without eyeballs, and the dope head squirrels, but can you please explain the reason why a floating fish needs to use an escalator? What are the physics involved with that?

tom cook
<tom@rsmas.miami.edu>

Yeah, and I'll bet you hated Fight Club, too, didn't you?

Come on, now, wouldn't we all be better off if we could all just go with the flow and believe whatever they tell us to believe? Let's all conform, goddamn it. Follow the fucking leader for once. It's about time peer pressure and mindless compliance made a comeback.

Conformist without a cause,

Polly

As a former Praxair (nee Union Carbide — who the fuck came up with "nee" anyways?) employee, I just had to give you props for the last panel of todays strip. They used to spew chemicals onto the cars in the parking lot and ruin the paint job on my 1979 RamCharger. Oh well, the truck died a few years later anyways.

Keep it real,

Keith
<keith@sway.org>

Man, if they were spewing chemicals that could peel the paint off your truck outside, just imagine the conditions inside. I think I'd be unsettled by my truck's premature death if I were you.

Union Carbide has this wonderful site where they explain how trumped up all those Indians' charges of health problems are. It's funny, because I don't have any more information on this than the next guy, but there's something about a corporate website with a deceptively neutral name and lots of helpful "information" that really raises my stick-it-to-the-man hackles.

What's that arcane faux word? Sticktuitiveness? I think a much more timely update of that term is Stick-it-to-the-man-itiveness: relentless thirst for sticking it to the man.

However, my thirst for sticking it to the man dwindles pretty quickly, and in direct proportion to my thirst for an icy Coke, supersized.

Full of empty talk and no walk,

Polly

New Year's sucks. Invariably, I get drunk, loud, have to be ported back to my couch and later, choking down aspirin and whatever stomach medicine is currently in vogue while I try and keep down a half-warmed frozen waffle, wonder why I even agreed to the thirty dollar "champagne at midnight" deal at whatever dive I picked to serve as ground zero for incoherence.

This year's different. No fabulous visions. My first week in the twenty first century will be slack. I have a full week to recover or to maintain a hangover, whichever I choose. Webvan? Yes. Videos? Absolutely. Starting my day at four in the afternoon? Just in time for sunset. Beats watching football or trying to negotiate airports with a stabbing pain in my head over the duration or stumbling around a dark, unfamiliar setting with lots of spangly people crowding the aisles and spilling beer on the vinyl seating in the booths. That may be a fabulous vision though.

I gotta disagree on the cheeseburger thing though. The place I get them serves giant hunks of cow with slabs cheese, not that foil bag encased goop that the bowling alley/theater snack bar attendant uses — and served on parmesan focaccia buns. It's cheese on top of bread on cheese on meat. Perfect for the after-netshopping experience and beautiful with fries. They're not portable though. I don't think they deliver either.

Burgess Meredith is a great over-the-shoulder spectre. Personally, though, I'd go for Matthau as my raspy corner man.

Yrs

Matt Brohammer
<m_brohammer@hotmail.com>

Wow, I must've recently slandered the common cheeseburger. How needlessly cruel!

Oh, wait. I remember now. Let me clarify: I have no problem with the cheeseburger, as long as it does, in fact, include a serving of cheese. It's this travesty known as American cheese that I simply cannot tolerate. And believe you me, I can tolerate a lot of things. Mac 'N' Cheese? No problem. Of course, there's that friendly 'N' again. Grated Parmesan, the kind in the green can? Oh, yes. Yes! Chef Boyardee Ravioli? Absosmurfly! Cheese 'N' Crackers? The little red scooper speaks for itself, doesn't it? But American cheese is foul. Maybe if it were powdered, if it made less pretenses toward seeming cheese-like.

Oh wait! Here's the rub — I adore the humble Egg McMuffin, which actually features American cheese!

Ok, I'm going to have to withdraw my insult to American cheese. It does sometimes go to good use (besides its obvious role as bathtub caulk, that is).

Boundless in my irrelevance,

Polly

Hi Polly,

You know, you almost make me feel guilty. There's a scene in "Unbreakable" when Bruce Willis' character realizes he's never gotten sick, not one cold, not one fever, not one ingrown toenail. Well, I just had a similar moment. I realized I've never given my parents (or my sister, for that matter) a commemorative present. Not one Christmas, not one birthday, not one Mother's day or Father's day. I give presents to my girlfriend and (sometimes) to my friends, but never my family (except obligatory handmade "presents" made at school, long forgotten). It's not for lack of caring, we simply didn't get the gift-giving circle going. I get stuff from my parents, of course, but post-Santa I haven't gotten anything wrapped or related to a specific occasion. Strangely, my grandparents and our extended family do get presents from us, which means maybe I'll start doling out presents once I'm not living at home anymore. Which could be sooner than I expect if they realize I never give them presents.

Regards,

Humberto Moreira
<hmoreira@subidea.com>

Humberto, you seem like a reasonable person. I'm going to chalk this whole thing up to some kind of Mexico City thing and let it slide. Mexico City's a pretty fun and exciting place. I can only assume that you've got better shit to do than shop at Best Buy.

I am going to suggest you move out, though. You really won't begin to think straight (or get laid, for that matter) if you don't.

None of my business,

Polly

polly

so i go out to lunch with some coworkers, and we go to this nice little joint just downstairs from our office, and I ask what the soup of the day is and the waiter says that it's a nice puree of pumpkin and rice, and that sounds pretty good to me, so instead of a salad i order a cup of soup to go with my steak au poirve, and we get a nice bottle of wine and we lay into a deep conversation about something and everyone else gets their salads and i don't even notice my soup hasn't come, and then we get our entrees and we all enjoy a pleasant lunch and then have a little desert, too, and the bill comes and the first thing on the bill is a cup of soup and, even though i am thoroughly sated now, i suddenly miss my cup of soup really bad, but the bill is steep and we're late as it is so i can't get it now, and up until that point I had enjoyed my lunch even without the soup, and now i'm staring at the bill for a lunch i've already eaten, save for a measly cup of pumkin and rice soup which is ruining the whole thing, and i ask you:

why, polly? why?

thanks a lot,

Paul Pavlak
<meanie_apolis@hotmail.com>

I don't really understand regrets, personally, so I can't help you. Sure, I can understand feeling bad about missing that soup, say, right after your steak arrived. Oh, yes, I understand that perfectly. But after you're no longer hungry? That's sort of like wishing your first girlfriend in high school were prettier.

I do have a great deal of empathy for you regretters, no doubt. I just try not to think about the way your minds work too much. It's like the guy who told me he gagged every time he brushed his tongue, and I've gagged every time I brushed my tongue, ever since.

Which is why I keep passing along the curse.

Mercilessly,

Polly

Subject: Brown Ratan

Polly,

Scouring Pad Records is pleased to announce the debut release of Brown Ratan, an all-girl band from L.A.'s "funky" Silver Lake area. Their new CD, titled "52 Weeks of Domestic Violence and the Hot Dog Flavored Water," explores the frustration and angst of modern femininity against a tapestry of Zydeco, Speed Metal, and Chamber Music influences.

Please feel free to check them out here.

Sincerely,

Gabriel Golden, President and Chief Flinchy Pussy Scouring Pad Records (and Ears Pierced Painlessly)
<golden@sfis.com>

I've always found Silverlake notably lacking in the "funky" department (although that's a mark in its favor, as far as I'm concerned), all-girl bands raise my hackles almost as much as websites sponsored by Union Carbide do, and MP3 files crash my Powerbook G3. I couldn't be a lamer human being if I wore sweatershirts with felt Christmas trees sewn onto them.

Besides, there's no way this band of yours is even half as good as hazel motes, also from funky Silverlake, with a CD titled, strangely enough, 52-week low. An utterly timely title, no?

So many coincidences... Wait. Are you making fun?

If so, I'll toast to you with my customary glass of Sparkling Water flavored with Hot Dog. L'eau de Weinie. C'est manifique!

Weinie,

Polly

Subject: !!!

12/12 — Your picture treatment

This was hysterical, you made my day!

Ludmilla Saskova
<ludmilla@moscow.com>

Dear Ludmilla,

Thanks for the kind words. I keep getting emails from Moscow about thousands of hot horny Soviet women who can't wait to meet me. True?

Dos vidanya

James

I think Conrad Bain is dead, isn't he?

Frank Martini
<fmartini@CadenceDevelopment.com>

Martini —

Yes, it's true, Mr. Bain passed away. Not that such would necessarily affect his performance.

Plus, one could always hire his identical twin brother.

Are you any relation to the insane "Martini" character from Cuckoo's Nest as played by Danny DeVito?

Yours,

James

Subject: Deadly Chad

Only one comment on casting:

Howard Hessemen (Dr. Johnny Fever from WKRP) as Judge Sauls. He's a dead ringer. But wait, is Hesseman dead? Maybe that's why you didn't use him. Did anyone have him in Howard Stern's Death Pool?

Big
<BigYo11@aol.com>

Big:

Great call. Hesseman (who is very much alive) would, indeed, be great — if he can pull off a North Florida accent and if he could pretend to be a hard-ass. Neither of which are a given.

But by opening the WKRP door to me, I'm now thinking about finding a place for Gordon Jump in any future project. Or perhaps, at the very least, in my heart.

Gettin' kinda tired of packin' and unpackin', town to town up and down the dial,

James

The Shit

Physical Strength and How to Obtain It, by Eugen Sandow

Bamboozled, A Spectacular New Film by Mr. Spike Lee

G. Beato's all-new Soundbitten

William Demarest, Sultan of Snarl, in The Lady Eve (1941), The Palm Beach Story (1942), and The Miracle of Morgan's Creek (1944)

George Wallace: Settin' The Woods On Fire, directed by Daniel McCabe and Paul Stekler

1995

Bobby Darin, Darin at the Copa (Atlantic)

Shinji-San in the floating world of indeterminate duration, by Peter Richardson

American Pharaoh: Mayor Richard J. Daley: His Battle for Chicago and the Nation, by Adam Cohen and Elizabeth Taylor

Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1996, Merge)

45, by Bill Drummond

Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards, Singing in the Rain (ASV)

Do you know of stuff that doesn't actively suck? Things so good they deserve to make the Shitlist? Send your suggestions to us.