http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Mon, 7 Jun 2004 13:25:20 EDT http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/06/07/132520.php Jolene LoudonSaturday was a day for a party. White carnation corsage pinned, up early for breakfast at the off-track, and hours spent waiting for the most eagerly anticipated moment in recent memory: Smarty Jones breaking from the gate at Belmont, poised to become the first Triple Crown winner since 1978.And surely, he broke well. But every horse has his best distance, and for dear Smarty Jones, a mile and a half was too much. Instead of a roar from the crowd as Birdstone nosed ahead, there was a wail of despair. The sound was more like the shriek of watching a car accident unfold than the usual joyous cheers heard at a horse race. In a moment, it was over. Longshot Birdstone had won the Belmont.All my bets hinged on Smarty. And losing the money didn't sting nearly as much as the thought of the Philly Phenom heading home with his win streak broken.Some folks at the Belmont filled the same despicable role they did when Empire Maker upset Funny Cide's Triple Crown quest last year ... they booed and hissed as Edgar Prado and his mount Birdstone entered the winner's circle, just as they did the year before when the Triple Crown contender was upset.But Birdstone's owner, Marylou Whitney, was as gracious and admirable as anyone could be ... she said how much they all loved Smarty Jones, apologized, and wept. Jockey Edgar Prado reminded all that he was "just doing (my) job." Trainer Nick Zito was poised and professional. A native New Yorker, Zito earned his first Belmont win in 12 attempts on Saturday, and longtime owner/breeder Whitney had won her first classic with a homebred colt. Smarty's loss put a damper on what should have been a glorious day for both.Deep down, nearly everyone was rooting for Smarty. Jockey Stewart Elliott did all he could, and Smarty ran with his whole heart. Nevertheless, it wasn't enough.But this is not a time to be sorrowful. There is a silver lining to everything, and the Smarty Saga is no exception.Since he didn't win the Triple Crown, perhaps it is more likely that Smarty won't be retired to "stud duty" right away. Smarty Jones will be a horse the people can follow for awhile, possibly watching him compete later on this year in the Breeder's Cup at Lone Star Park, and then perhaps even onto his four year old season in 2005.The Chapmans, who own Smarty Jones, have had the ride of their lives. For Roy Chapman, it couldn't have come a moment too soon. Tethered to an oxygen tank, at 78 he has asthma, emphysema and chronic bronchitis. He went to Smarty's races in a wheelchair.Trainer John Servis and jockey Stewart Elliott have become household names, and certainly reserved their respective places in racing history. Even Butterscotch, Servis's 23 year-old lead pony, has his place in American hearts.Bobby Camac, murdered in 2001, has been vindicated posthumously ... the former trainer for the Chapmans encouraged breeding Smarty Jones's dam, I'll Get Along, to Elusive Quality. Without his input, Smarty Jones may never have been born.That the Triple Crown was not achieved is disappointing, but not devastating. This has been a glorious time for the connections of Smarty Jones, and will not soon be forgotten.I thought no story could be better than that of the "Sackatoga Six," longtime friends who pooled their funds to buy a horse named Funny Cide, who won last year's Kentucky Derby and Preakness. They traveled with their entourage to view the races in a chartered school bus. When Funny Cide lost the Belmont to Empire Maker, I nearly started to cry. It was such a great story, what a wonderful Triple Crown legend that would have been. It was crushed in seconds.But this year, I realized last year's tragedy was really okay ... because with Smarty Jones, there was an even better story: a horse that ran at Philly Park, who nearly died after fracturing his skull in a starting gate accident. He had an unknown-to-the-masses trainer and jockey, and his owners had sold all their horses, save two. He was one. He became the one.And yet, the Triple Crown was not his, either.The stories of these Classic champions keep getting better. Frankly, wondering what the next story will be is somewhat exciting in its own right. And the thousands of stories from the backside of every racetrack across the nation are told every day. Everyone knows a special circumstance, a unique opportunity, a devastating setback, a triumph when all seems lost.Whose stories will enter the starting gate at next year's Kentucky Derby is yet to be known. But rest assured, there will be a great story or two at the very least.And as for Smarty Jones? His story isn't over. Perhaps it's just begun. Sports16321@blogcritics.org Mon, 7 Jun 2004 13:25:20 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2003/08/13/171514.php Jolene LoudonFor the third week in a row, Seabiscuit has been popular enough to finish in the top five highest grossing movies. Moviegoers and critics alike have heaped praise upon the movie, based upon the best selling book by Laura Hillenbrand.Universal Studios stands to gain quite a bit of financial reward from this movie. But elsewhere lies an industry that prays that the success of Seabiscuit has a ripple effect.Seabiscuit thundered across many finish lines during the Great Depression...an age so long ago, most of us had yet to be conceived. And all that time ago, horse racing was considered the Sport of Kings, a glorious bastion of equine and human performance. And lest we forget, a sport to put a wager or two upon.Today, track grandstands rarely fill to even half capacity. Some are sorely in need of repairs and fresh paint, others simply feel dark and empty. A sense of hollowness has fallen over the sport.The players, by and large, are wealthy. They've made their money elsewhere, and the joke of "how do you make a million at horse racing? Start with three million" tends to apply well.The Bloodhorse, one of the most reputable publications in the thoroughbred racing industry, has had a hand in www.thegreatestgame.com, billed as a place for the novice to make his or her initial foray into the world of horse racing. Unfortunately, the application materials make it clear that participating will be a hefty investment.Tobey Maguire's character in the movie, Red Pollard, states that they were "running for the people with a quarter in their pocket." But if there is any great casualty that racing has suffered over the last half a century, it is precisely those people. The owners sit in the Turf Clubs, trainers look on from near the paddock, grooms glance hopefully from the backside, handicappers sit glazed in front of a plethora of simulcast screens, but the folks "with the quarter in their pocket", who come for the enjoyment of a live race, are few and far between.Will a movie bring them in?From coast to coast, Seabiscuit has been an on-track marketing explosion. Bobbleheads, coffee mugs, posters, you name it: it's been handed out at the gate sometime over the past couple of months. From Emerald Downs to Churchill Downs, from fair meets to Santa Anita, every track wants to celebrate this movie. It's not just the subject matter...it's a wish, a dream. A silent prayer wrapped up in promotional giveaways. Please, let the people come back.Not too long ago I spent a day at Hollywood Park...after learning that my beloved's shoes didn't meet Turf Club criteria (where my parent's trainer arranged for us to be seated) we said we would be happy to just mill about where everyone else is. It became our joke that we were simply working-class Democrats, and didn't belong the uppity turf club, anyway. We vowed not to let it spoil our day at the races.The sun shone bright and the day was lovely, infield housing ponds and flamingos. We dined, then wound our way about, trying to find the quickest route from seats to paddock to, God willing, the winner's circle. We never had to wait for a less crowded elevator. We never had to stand in line for a Pepsi. And by the time the flag was up for the eagerly anticipated race, we had no struggle finding a place to view the race from.And on this magnificent summer day, that seemed very sad indeed.Would Seabiscuit change Hollywood Park? Would the movie hit the screen and subsequently send new fans to this track? How desperately Hollywood Park needed them...and perhaps remodeling in a place or two. I wonder if Charles Howard or Tom Smith (Seabiscuit's owner and trainer, respectively) had any idea the story of their lives would be played before the American public...and I wonder if they had any idea just what was riding on it. I am waiting for the season's meet to begin at my home track in October. It is then I will be able to accurately gauge if Seabiscuit will provide the phenomenon we have hoped for, or if the same old faces will haunt the sparsely occupied track I have come to love. Of course, I wish for the former. I want to meet new people, make new friends, bring them to the farm to visit the mares. I want them to aspire to become involved in syndications and partnerships, I want to do my part to help them do so. And so do many other people.Seabiscuit has become more than a mere movie, it is an opportunity. The question now is, has the industry used this opportunity in the best way possible? Only time will tell. Sports7562@blogcritics.org Wed, 13 Aug 2003 17:15:14 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2003/05/20/101800.php Jolene LoudonDown With Love is a recent release (May 16, 2003) starring Ewan MacGregor and Renee Zellweger. Set in Manhattan in 1962, the film is a spoof on the charming Rock Hudson-Doris Day films of days gone by.Barbara Novak (Zellweger) is a writer that becomes an overnight sensation with her book "Down With Love", which insists that women need to get out into the workplace and stop living their lives for men, and realize most importantly that love and sex are two very different things. She suggests chocolate as an appropriate substitute for sex when need be.Catcher Block (MacGregor) is the man's man, ladies man, man about town magazine writer who initially cancels on his interview appointments with Ms. Novak. From there, the humor begins. Sarah Paulson (Leap of Faith) and David Hyde Pierce (Frasier) both make the jump from TV to supporting roles, and do a bang-up job.The movie is laugh-out-loud funny at points, and is full of silly moments. I did, however, find myself in a bit of a reflective mood after the movie...am I a Down With love girl? I used to be, or atleast I tried to be. I decided to invest in hobbies and my career and not concern myself with ever finding a wonderful someone to spend my days with. Nowadays, I feel a bit differently.Well, just a bit.The film is rated PG-13 for sexual humour and dialogue. Video5443@blogcritics.org Tue, 20 May 2003 10:18:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2002/10/14/103157.php Jolene LoudonI've tried to write a review of the TV show "the Bachelor" several times now. I would always get approximately two sentences in, and would suddenly become so disgusted with the representatives of my gender in the show that I could write no more. Now, given, I have watched maybe ten or fifteen minutes of The Bachelor total. Still, I think I have seen all I need to see. It's mortifying.Mr. Perfect, who really appears to be an ineloquent hick who must have got his hands on some family money, gets to pick from a group of attractive gals that he has the honor of "dating". Before he decides which ones he will spare, he watches videos of the girls appealing to his sense of...well...all sorts of senses. Then, he chooses who makes it to the next round.To describe one girl who appeared on the show:"It's just that *sniff* on our date, *sniff* I really think I started to feel something (insert lone tear streaming downward here). I just hope he picks me." (Cue extreme waterworks.) Then, they show some footage of their "date". He kisses her. She thanks him. That's right, she thanks him. She says, "Thank you". Audibly. Pathetic!If I was there, I would have given her a good, hard, soap opera-esque slap across the face. "Pull yourself together, woman! He's Opie!"You do not thank a man for kissing you. In male-female sexual relations, thanks should be reserved for selfless sexual intercourse when one party has a throbbing headache and a list of stuff to do but still takes half an hour to indulge their patrner's sexual needs. And you really don't even need to say "thanks" then, either. (Not that I'm saying you shouldn't, mind you. You should. And maybe even buy them something next time you're out.)Two girls on the show walked out when it was time to pick the chosen few. Ironically, they appeared to be the only minorities on the show. They stated that they knew some girls really wanted to be with the Bachelor, and didn't think it would be fair to them.What they really should have said is, "When they signed me up for this, they promised me I would meet someone wealthy, intelligent, and handsome. You don't appear to be these things. I am done wasting my time. You are the weakest link. Goodbye."(Wait...I just got confused between stupid TV shows. Sorry.)The Bachelor is an exercise in female degradation, and no, making a corresponding Bachelorette show will not make me feel better. The show trivializes the importance of establishing a respectful, caring bond between two people, and turns one of the most important relationships in your life into an "R" rated game show. And for the nutty dolts who actually like this fellow, I feel sorry that they have to watch him have other girls on his lap (amongst other things). But that's not what you have to put up with to find a husband. (Well, unless your husband-to-be is in a band, but I both generalize and digress.)Falling in love should be moments of trust coupled with moments of uncertainty, racing pulses and instant ease. It should excite you like a roller coaster and feel as comfortable as your favorite T-shirt. It's wishes and dreams, gambles and sure things, putting your heart out and hoping he or she handles it gently. It will make you laugh and cry in the same day, it will make you stop dead in your tracks when you actualize what is happening. Truly falling in love is overwhelming.Something so awesome shouldn't happen in the company of competitors, and certainly shouldn't be arranged by network TV. Video1285@blogcritics.org Mon, 14 Oct 2002 10:31:57 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2002/09/25/101633.php Jolene LoudonLet out a collective sigh of relief, America, American Idol is finally over. Sure, there's been some "wrap up" shows with all sorts of nutty routines, but the worst is over. Well, until they start auditioning for next season.In the beginning, it was fun...tone-deaf kids thinking they were the next Justin Timberlake or Britney Spears, showing off their...ahem...skillz to a panel of judges comprised of a former pop-star Laker girl, an American producer, and the ever-reviled co-creator of the show, responsible for such atrocities as WestLife. The egotism of the competitors was hilarious early on, and since most of them could peel enamel from teeth with their struggle to find a note (or, hell, any note) they did not "go to Hollywood". Eventually ten were left. Evidently, they did fascinate America, just ask the boys at World Wide Rant, who kept getting 'RJ Helton Gay American Idol' Google hits. And frankly, I don't mind admitting that I thought Nikki McKibbon was and is as adorable as they come. Now, if she could have just sang something decent...I have a proposal: next time Fox decides to do another American Idol, they should search for not only someone who can sing, but who can also write their own music and, say, play an instrument or something. Now, that might showcase some talent. Or even a good-old-fashioned "Battle of the Bands" type thing. I'd check into that. Who wouldn't?But right now, what we have just experienced is nothing short of an atrocity. To be blunt: Medleys are sick and wrong anyway. Medleys that combine Beach Boys and Lovin' Spoonful tunes and are sung by a group of twenty year olds...well...there's a special place in hell for whoever made that happen. Furthermore, it quickly became painfully evident that these kids had never performed with other people, they struggled to harmonize and lost the battle.The last time I heard so many Whitney Houston tunes, I was traveling a desolate stretch of highway 101 in California with a broken CD player. I searched repeatedly for a station, but only one come in faintly...of course, it was Clear Channel's finest, "today's hits and yesterday's favorites." It was torture, but it kept me awake. Writhing, but awake.I find myself wondering if, at any point, were the competitors horrifically embarassed by what they had to sing? I would be. But then again, at age 26, I am ancient in pop star years, and would not be allowed to compete. Which is an excellent out, because I'd hate to be told, "there's no way you can be an American Idol because you are fat". The whole premise behind the show is embarrasing. It really amounts to taking a pretty face and making them famous. Sure, you have to be able to sing, but lots of people can sing. Do you think Alicia Keys would have made it in the final 10? Not with that pumpkin head. Melissa Etheridge? Too old, not pretty, so forth and so on. Elton John? Even when young, he was no looker, and had no cool moves whatsoever.I use those examples because ironically, their trademark songs were frequently showcased during the comptition.American Idol is straight up evil. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'll probably watch again next season, too. Like a rubbernecker driving past a horrifically bloody accident, I can't seem to stop myself from watching the carnage.Please... tell me that somebody is developing a 12 step program for this. Video: Television834@blogcritics.org Wed, 25 Sep 2002 10:16:33 EDT