The Bad Review Revue

Hey wait — wasn’t I going to do a B.R.R. on Friday? Why, I believe I was. Well, better late …

Hide And Seek: “A unique paroxysm of rancid idiocy. ” — Jessica Winter, VILLIAGE VOICE

Elektra: “Lacks thrills, narrative, emotion, believability, character development, and, frankly, watchability. ” — Aaron Hillis, PREMIERE

Miss Congeniality 2: “Must be seen to be believed, though I’m not suggesting you actually see it. ” — Joe Morgenstern, WALL STREET JOURNAL

The Ring Two: “Goes wrong in less than two minutes, which may be a world record for sequels to decent movies. ” — Lawrence Toppman, CHARLOTTE OBSERVER

Son Of The Mask: “This groaner makes 1994’s The Mask look like something you’d study in a film graduate course at NYU.” — Mike Clark, USA TODAY

The Wedding date: “Imagine, if you dare, the outtakes from all those merely bad romantic comedies. Now further imagine that these discarded bits, the stuff that failed to make even the failures, found their way out of the waste bin and into a splicing machine and onto a projector. Do that and you’re inching toward a full appreciation of this particular barrel, and the bottom it so brazenly scrapes.” — Rick Groen, THE GLOBE AND MAIL

New Job!

Updates to this blog might be kind of sporadic from now on because I just found out that I’m the pope. I don’t really know much about Catholicism, but always figured that popes were elected, or picked by a council, or the next in line just became magically popey when the old one died (like on Buffy The Vampire Slayer). Wrong on all accounts — apparently my name was selected in a random drawing. I filled out a contest card at a “24 Fitness Gym” a few years ago for a chance to win a trip to Hawaii, but I didn’t really read the fine print and was unaware that fourth prize was the papacy.

So anyway, I’ll be starting a new job on Monday. It seems like a pretty good gig: I get to run a small country, and I get to tell millions of people what to do, and I get a discount at the Vatican commissary. I have to pay for my own work uniform, though, and that kind of sucks. I have no idea where to buy one of them hats.

Down In The Mouth

Remember that moment, twenty minutes into The Phantom Menace, when you got that sickening feeling as you realized that the rest of this story was not only going to suck, but it was going to be so bad that it would retroactively ruin all the enjoyable stuff that had come before it?

I think that’s pretty much how The Squirrelly is feeling about life these days.

Up until now the world has treated him pretty well: he played with toys all day, took naps whenever he chose, saw breasts on a regular basis, and had the freedom to poop in his pants without any fear of social stigma. Livin’ the dream, that kid. But the last couple weeks have been rough. First there was the aforementioned Avery Flu, although, of all the Baldwins, he was the most unscathed. (I, for instance, was both throwing up and thrown up upon.) But right after that he got a runny nose, and then a cough, and last night he had a fever of 102. And through it all he’s been teething, which has really been making him unhappy. Question: what’s the point of feeling pain when you’re teething? To discourage you from growing more teeth? Four million years of evolution and this is the best you can come up with, Darwin?

Anyhow, every once in a while The Squirrelly gives his mother and I the hairy eyeball, clearly resentful of the massive bait-and-switch the world has pulled on him. And all I can do is shrug and say “at least you don’t have to pay fucking’ taxes.”

Fortunately, we’re able to keep his teething discomfort at bay through the miracle of Infant’s Advil, which we administer to him through a small plastic syringe. It’s sugary, fruit-favored goop, and The Squirrelly loves the taste of it — when he sees us pick up the box his eyes totally light up. Ah yes, I’m so glad we’re teaching our child that sweet, numbing relief from the pain of the world comes from a drug in a syringe.