January 20, 2008 |
LEAVE it to the Onion to build a better atlas. The cover of "Our Dumb World: Atlas of the Planet Earth" (Little, Brown: 246 pp., $27.99) boasts "Curvier Latitude Lines," "Better-Veiled Xenophobia," a "Bono-Awareness Rating" for each country and, enterprisingly, "30% More Asia."
December 27, 2007 |
Steven Shainberg and William Chartoff option David Evanier's "Making the Wiseguys Weep," the story of pop crooner Jimmy Roselli, "the other Sinatra," who is hugely popular in the Italian American community but largely unsung outside of that world. Evanier is represented by Andrew Blauner for literary rights, and Liza Wachter with Rabineau, Wachter, Sanford & Harris Literary Agency for film rights.
February 25, 2007 |
AROUND 12:30 p.m. PST on Feb. 8, the first word of Anna Nicole Smith's death began to float into public consciousness. Within minutes, cable news networks ground to a halt as anchors fumbled for profundity. Within the next hours, newsrooms across America began a weeklong debate: "Is she a real celebrity?" and "Just because America is dying to know about her death, does that make it news?" But while old media struggled to get its ducks in a row, online an unlikely news team snapped into action.
September 22, 2006 |
"Al Franken: God Spoke" is a great title for a send-up and an even better one for a Hellerian satire of institutional insanity. It sets you up to expect a merciless lampooning of the pundits and politicians who insist they are just checking off errands on the to-do list of the Almighty after every foul. So, for that matter, do the opening images of Nick Doob and Chris Hegedus' documentary.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
February 23, 2006 |
Dear Mexican, Why do Mexicans call white people gringos? It was the type of impolite question few people would dare ask in everyday Southern California, much less in print. "Dear Gabacho," began Gustavo Arellano's answer in the OC Weekly alternative newspaper. "Mexicans do not call gringos gringos. Only gringos call gringos gringos. Mexicans call gringos gabachos.
September 16, 2004 |
In his first career as a doorman at Chicago's Park Hyatt Hotel, Ike Reilly hobnobbed with everybody from businessmen to barflies, from partyers to politicos. He learned a lot. Like humility. "Everybody should have to work in the service industry at some point in their life," he says. That job might have been the perfect incubator for Reilly's music -- barroom rock narrated by a wiseguy who's as comfortable regaling PhDs and poets as he is pimps and porn stars.