The Fabulous Baker Boys, 1989 (dir. Steve “Muggle” Kloves)

SYNOPSIS: Jeff Bridges plays another guy named Jack and Beau Bridges plays his brother but instead of sharing an awesome dad like in real life, they play music. I didn’t remember a whole lot about this film at first and then I went to IMDB where John Vogel cleared it all up:

Frank and Jack Baker are professional musicians who play small clubs. They play smaltzy music and have never needed a day job. Times are changing and dates are becoming more difficult to get so they interview female singers. They finally decide on Susie Diamond, a former ‘escort’ who needs some refinement, but the act begins to take off again. While the act is now successful, both Frank and Jack have problems with their life on the road. Susie becomes the agent that makes them re-evaluate where they are going, and how honest they have been with each other. Written by John Vogel {jlvogel [at] comcast [dot] net}

Thanks John Vogel! But that doesn’t sound right. First of all, ‘smaltzy’? That’s racist, John. ‘Times are changing’? The world is not your race war, John Vogel! And I don’t remember Catwoman playing a former ‘escort’ who becomes an ‘agent’ of change. I remember her playing a really good singer who effs the shinola outta Starman. I suppose you could call their act a success but I was never clear about who was coming out to see them play music from 1904. One song uses “Whoopee” like the Newlywed Game does sometimes.

FILM: 7/10

BRIDGES: 9/10 (he basically wears a tux, plays a piano and and sleeps with Ladyhawke for ninety minutes so this is as close as I’ll ever get to my Bridges-as-Batman wish)

BOTTOM LINE: Last Picture Show > The Fabulous Baker Boys > Texasville

I remember really liking the film alot at the time. The scene above made me laugh. But now I can barely remember anything about the movie, so I left their faces off. Lettering kind of blows so I might fill it in with another color.

Much like “Fight Club” – there are rules. Rules that must be followed, and not knowing the rules doesn’t make you exempt from them.

Today’s story involves my friend Tom Brysky and Harry Potter.

Tom is a Chicago area artist. Tom buys an exhibitor’s table at the event with several friends. One of his friends wanted a Harry Potter bag from Warner Brothers.

Tom waits until the convention opens, then speed walks to the Warner booth to get in line for a bag.

When it is his turn, one of the Warner employees stop him and said “Fans only.”

As far as Warner Brothers is concerned, I guess you can’t be an exhibitor and a fan.

These are real Harry Potter TItles

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

These Aren’t

Harry Potter and the Painful Wendy’s Dump

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Gig Young’s Groceries

Harry Potter and the Clumsy Grab For The Tit

Harry Potter and the Deathly Beloit Commute

Harry Potter and the Overpriced Vegas Show

Harry Potter and the Confusing Directions To The Upper-East-Side Bar

Harry Potter and the Video Game Seizure of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Order of The Personal Care Physicians of Bellflower, Ohio

Harry Potter and the Cutest Fucking Antique Store You’ve Ever Fucking Seen

Harry Potter and the Tactfully Avoided Backyard Conversation on Religion

Harry Potter and the 3D House of Stewardesses

Harry Potter and the Boring Couple From Orlando

Harry Potter and the Gregarious Southwest Flight Attendant of Doom

Harry Potter and the Lingerie Shop That Might Be A Mob Front

Harry Potter and the Bitch From HR

Harry Potter and the Last of the Interesting Snack Pack Choices

Harry Potter and the Fart That Wasn’t

After watching Britian’s Got Talent singer, 12-year-old Shaheen Jafargholi, perform at the Michael Jackson memorial, I thought to myself (and posted to facebook because… that’s my addiction), “I want my own white boy.”

But then I read about Rupert Grint and his bold battle with Swine Flu. Swine Flu?! Get the f out of here. I will now amend my previous statement: I want my own British white boy.

Apparently, they’re hearty.