Every Song's Her Favorite Song and Mics Don't Feedback/ All the Reviewers Say, "You Need to Go See That."
I don't know shit about music, so self-indulgent and recherche year-end lists only give me a host of things to download and inevitably become disappointed by. Don't feed me that LCD Soundsystem bullshit. I got duped by the fawning praise accompanying their first album and fucking hated it. Drew and Ufford loved them some The Hold Steady last year and I could never get into it.
Movies are another matter entirely for me. I glory in compiling ten best lists and breathlessly debating them with my friends. I worked as a film critic for my college paper, which was fantastic. I never had to go to the newsroom, except to swipe screening passes and I saw everything those two years.
The frustrating aspect of film lists is that you maybe get three or four potential good-to-great films before October. So everything is packed into a three month period when movies are battling with football for weekend free time.
I've painstakingly, despite not seeing all the movies I've wanted to see this year, narrowed down my list. Here goes:
1. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
3. No End in Sight
4. American Gangster
5. No Country for Old Men
9. The King of Kong
10. Knocked Up
Honorable mentions: Superbad, 300, Eastern Promises and Darjeeling Limited.
Commenters would like to add that 3:10 to Yuma, Gone Baby Gone and Once - none of which I saw - are worthy of inclusion.
I'm trying to save room for There Will Be Blood. Feel free to tell me how wrong I am in the comments. At least Drew isn't around. If you ever meet him, let him know how much you love the movie Brick.
Anyway, your Meast is Ben Roethlisberger, partially because I'm doing all the posts this week and I can pick anyone I damn well choose and also because he put up his NFL record-tying third career game with a perfect rating against the Rams, which was also his second this season. All that, despite the fact that he's the most frequently sacked QB in the league this year and his offensive line is composed of gauze and Alan Faneca. He may even get an MVP vote. Huzzah!
Bill Simmons likes to harp about Roethlisberger being referred to only as "Ben" by the announcers, because Simmons' mind has been eaten away by feline AIDS and being penetrated in the ear by J-Bug. Perhaps this grating-only-to-Simmons phenomenon has to do with the announcers not wanting to slow down the flow of the game calling by having to pronounce his four syllable last name in every sentence.