By Jack Jackson

     I thought I'd crap out a review of LotR: RotK. [Due to the long lines, Jack has not actually seen the movie yet.--Eds.]

     First off, I gotta tip the feather in my cap to Christopher Lee.  His acting as Saruman is totally sweet.  And when Wormtongue throws the palantir from his tower, it was really great how mad Saruman got, and how happy Gandalf was that he has something that would help them win the final battle for Gondor.

     The bad parts first: the movie wasn't long enough.  When I stood up after Wormtongue killed Saruman back at the Shire, the credits began to roll.  I stood up and shushed all the applause and I said, "What?  That's all?  Is that all you get for $9 these days?  Peter Jackson, I hope you add at least three more hours to the DVD."  And then I sat down to a small smattering of applause.

     Also: not enough fighting.  Oscars don't go to pansy movies like this.  I want to see blood for my $9.  Orc blood, that is.

     Lastly: I like movies that end.  The cliffhanger where everyone looks around Mt. Doom for Frodo's finger and then fade to black and cut was just poor movie style.

     Good parts last: Liv Tyler finally porks Aragon while that dude from the Matrix watches through a hole in the wall in his palace at Rivendell.  We were all waiting for this ever since the first movie when she gave him that necklace with the cunny juice on it.

     Best scene: Saruman, Wormtongue, and ET are drinking mead at a great hall in Germany when Grendel and Beowulf come in.  Beowulf orders a hotdog with ketchup, and then ET laughs and says something about "tourists" but he says it real funny like, like George Bush saying "terrorists" and then Saruman punches Beowulf in the nuts.  Grendel orders a raspberry Swiss mocha creme latte with vanilla berry orange menthol compote flavor shot.  Wormtongue informs Grendel that he's fresh out of the vanilla berry orange menthol compote flavor shot syrup, so Grendel has to have the mango star fruit power blast instead.

By Jack Jackson

     Jack Jackson is taking a much needed vacation, so we've turned the typewriter reins over to Billy, aged 8.

     I wonder why McDonald's made their chicken McNuggets with white meat?  Didn't they taste good before?  I think they taste good now, I suppose.  I don't want to eat any more, though.  Mom bought me the 20-piece and now I'm fat.  She says I should only eat McDonald's food because it tastes better.  I want to eat a healthy salad, but she said that's not on the Atkins diet.

     Did you see that party at Neverland?  There was a trampoline!  My mom won't take me to Neverland.  She said that Michael Jackson hasn't done a good song since Beat It.  Maybe she's right.  I wish we had a trampoline.  And maybe some more ketchup.

     My dog had cancer, but then it fell off.  Mom said not to touch it.  I did.  Then I got a wart where I touched it.  Good thing I didn't put my pee pee on it!

     Uncle Jack Jackson is the best.  He brings us crispy dollar bills, unlike mean Aunt Greta.  She only gives us the wrinkly dollar bills.  Mom says they spend just as good as crispy ones, especially at McDonald's.  I just like the smell.  I wish I could fart and have it smell like crispy dollar bills.

By Jack Jackson

     Phil Spector's ex-wife, Ronnie Spector Greenfield, was surprised to hear he had been accused of murder.  "I had never seen him violent like that, with a gun or anything," she said.  Well, Ronnie, Go Take a Nap!  Did you ever stop to think that the last person that did see him violent like that with a gun or something didn't exactly live to tell about it.  Or put another way, do you think that if you had seen him violent like that, with a gun or something, you'd be flappin' your gums still?  Or let's try to put it this way: when Phil does get violent like that, with a gun or something, there's a good chance, if you're around to see it, that you probably won't survive, because he's probably going to shoot you.

     Let's try to paraphrase that last sentence.  Phil Spector, when he does get violent, with a gun or something, likely shoots people with it, and they don't live to tell about what they saw.

     Britney Spears spoke again this week.  She ruined millions of orgasms by denying any lesbian vibe between herself and Madonna when they kissed.  Britney, Go Take a Nap!  Of course there was a lesbian vibe.  That's what you get when two women kiss onstage.  Recap: one woman kissing another woman onstage=lesbian vibe.  She also went on to say that she'd like to win an Oscar someday.  She and I have a lot in common, it seems.  She didn't wear clothes at home when she was 13, and now she wants an Oscar.  Next thing you know, she'll say she's into human ponies, too.

     I'll have to admit that Crossroads was a fine, fine film, and the fact that I was drinking Fighting Cock in the theater and singing along did not distort my objectivity.

     Neil Simon fired Mary Tyler Moore because she wouldn't learn her lines.  Mary, Go Take a Nap!  That's what they pay you fancy-pants actors the big bucks for.  Actors are supposed to learn their lines, arrive in limousines, become governor of California, then President of the United States of America.  That's what's supposed to happen.  So learn your lines!

     Aaron Carter's mom took $100K from his bank account and didn't tell him!  Aaron's mom, Go Take a Nap!  As a mother of a teen celebrity, you're supposed to take ALL of the money.  Get it right next time.

By Jack Jackson

     There are some real dildoes [should read "dildos"--Ed.] vying to purchase an album signed by Mark Chapman, the famous Beatle-killer and killer of John Lennon.  The album, Double Fantasy, was used as evidence during the investigation of the murder.  What would you pay for such a piece of "history"?  I would pay fair market value for whatever used tapes are going for these days.  But not some people.  There are bids for over $500,000.  Whoever is bidding on this album, Go Take a Nap!  Do you have any idea how many Grilled Stuft Burritos you can get for $half-million?  You could feed the entire population of Tuvalu on Grilled Stuft Burritos for over 10 days!  (Assuming that the entire population of Tuvalu didn't mind eating three Grilled Stuft Burritos each day.)  Or, you could donate to a charity of your choice, although it would be really hard to shove all those Grilled Stuft Burritos down that metal slot in the Salvation Army buckets.

     Hate halftime of the Super Bowl?  Love paying money to see women running around in underwear?  Much like peanut butter meeting Dracula for the first time, Dodge has decided to create a pay-per-view lingerie bowl to keep your ass full of beer and chili cheese farts squarely planted on your plastic inflatable furniture.  The cost?  $19.95.  Dodge, Go Take a Nap!  If I'm going to blow $20 on pornography, I'm going to buy something that doesn't involve your shitball vehicles.  And I don't want to get all fired up at halftime in mixed company, if you know what I mean.  "Sure, Jack, sure.  We all really believe you need to go take a crap!"  That's what they'll say when you finally peel your can off the vinyl.  That, and, "Get me another beer."

     And since when did we start paying to watch ads?  Was it about the same time we started to pay to be ads (cf. Coke T-shirts and WB gear)?

     Keith Richards is pissed off at Mick Jagger for agreeing to accept knighthood from the QE2.  Keith, Go Take a Nap!  When one of your friends gets made, it's like you got made, too!  Think about Paul McCartney when he got all beknighted.  It was as if all the Beatles became nobles.  And it certainly made the price of Double Fantasy signed by Mark Chapman increase.  Or think of Elton John, who was queened.  It was as if the Tiny Dancer herself had been queened, too.  Keith, you may just have to make me change the title of this column from Go Take a Nap! to Stop Being Such a Wet Fart!  [Wet farts are a mixed metaphor for wet blankets and moist farts.--Eds.]

     And in the shocker [two in the pink, one in the stink--Eds.] of this new millennium, Ozzy Osbourne revealed that he was "wiped out" on prescription medicines during the filming of the hit unreality MTV show, The Osbournes.  Also making the headlines this week: Michael Jackson molests underage boys, Liberace was light in the loafers, and Richard Dawson was drunk during Match Game 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78 and Family Feud.

By Jack Jackson

     It was another slow week for celebrity tomfoolery, provided that you're ignoring Michael Jackson (and I am ignoring all Jacko news).  Thus, apologies in advance for a somewhat dry GTaN!

     Nielsen Media Research defended its media research that had been attacked by the major networks because it reflected an 8% decline in male viewership, ages 18-24.  Networks claim Nielsen isn't accurately surveying the young male audience, and Nielsen blames the loss of viewership on DVDs and videogames.  Broadcast networks, Go Take a Nap!  The male 18-24 age range isn't watching your crappy TV anymore because it sucks a big fatty, dude [frat boy in Abercrombie and Fitch baseball hat high-fives frat boy in Abercrombie and Fitch baseball hat]!  I can speak on behalf of the 18-24 male audience as a former 18-24 male, and I say Touched By an Angel and Cold Case don't keep us glued to the boob tube in the same way Ryan's Hope and Hotel used to.  And besides, we're all busy studying the plight of the third world nations, trying to figure out how to solve the problem of poverty, hunger, and strife.

     Sissel and Robert, 20 and 21, respectively, conceived a child on the Danish Big Brother this sometime recently.  The pregnancy was announced this week, no doubt to increase male viewership, ages 18-24.  Unfortunately for males 18-24, Sissel was booted out of the house, so they won't get to watch her tummy grow with child.  I propose a webcam, pointed at her navel.

     And for those of you who were on the edge of your seats waiting for Hollywood to dish up a movie-length version of Bewitched, you're prayers have been answered.  Will Ferrell will play Darrin, with Nicole Kidman likely as Samantha.  If there is a god, JoAnn Worley will play Esmeralda.

By Jack Jackson

     I would be remiss, of course, to neglect to write about Michael Jackson's recent arrest for child molestation.  But I must tell you this: I don't care if he did it or not.  American Going Public, Go Take a Nap!  What would your parents think if they knew you cared more about a pop star's penis than the state of world hunger, poverty, and human rights violations that don't get reported on because you want to know more about Neverland and the sordid details of an insane man with boyish desires?  Maybe try this for front page news, instead: country A conquers country B in three weeks, takes their natural resources, and tells them it was for their own good.  Or this: we all eat like pigs and we're all fat, unhealthy slobs who watch too much TV?  Or this one: Michael Jackson is a pedophile.  Which one do you think is worthy of the front page?

      Jared Fogle (a.k.a. The Subway Guy) is now a household name.  Good.  Nice to know I can replace Paul Hogan with a different name to drop at the water cooler with that guy that shakes and smokes cigarettes all day.

     Britney Spears finally got her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame this week, proving once again that you only need to be famous to earn the honor.  I imagine a Hollywood Walk of Talent would be a very short stretch of sidewalk.  Who would get to be on that sidewalk?  Hal Linden, Tony Randall, Gene Rayburn, and Abe Vigoda.  In between: Charo, Twiggy, Ruth Buzzi, and Fannie Flagg.

(Actual Size)

     And we finally now know WTF is wrong with Jerry Lewis.  He was taking steroids to solve a lung problem and the steroids put some pounds on him, not the bulk-up-roid-rage-pro-wrestler pounds, but the...well, you can see for yourself what kind of pounds it put on him.  I gotta think you do a balancing test in your head, you know.  Doctor tells you you're going to die from a lung problem, or you end up taking steroids and gaining some weight.  Eh.

By Jack Jackson

     Britney Spears says she liked to run around her house naked when she was 13.  Oddly enough, me too.  Too bad we never ran into each other.  But Britney, it's time to either finally sign that porn contract or Go Take a Nap!  You're songs suck, seeing you cry on national television is lame, and I don't think you'll be furthering world peace by supporting our president anytime soon.  Your first, best reason of living is to give men something to think about when doing the Hot Karl on the crapper in the morning.

     Tony Danza will get his second lease on 15 minutes of fame as he prepares to be a daytime talk show host aiming at female audiences, sources at Disney's Buena Vista subsidiary announced.  Danza claimed his past eight years touring the country in a musical review has been preparing him for the role as daytime host.  Tony, Go Take a Nap!  First of all, there's no "music" in "musical reviews".  Second, I want to see more monkey movies with you, Danny DeVito, and, of course, monkeys.  And Third, if there is a female audience out there that would watch your show, I pity them.  But then again, I pity anyone who watches daytime television, excepting The Price is Right, of course.

     Christopher Lee's scenes in the final Lord of the Rings disaster movie have been cut and will not be seen by audiences.  Funny, really.  I thought I saw Saruman in the first two movies.  I guess he just left the planet and forgot there was a huge battle between good and evil that he was supposed to be a big part of.  Peter Jackson, Go Take a Nap!  Christopher Lee is a bad ass septuagenarian and he's going to use that force lightning on your ass if you cut him out of any more movies.  And here's something else that better Go Take a Nap sometime soon: movies that don't have endings, and then sequels that don't, either.  Instead of spending $9 on one shitty movie, the American Going Public is now spending $27 on shitty movies that don't end.  But those plastic goblets were totally sweet, that had the lights in the bottom of them.

     And everyone's favorite Niagara Falls plummeter, Kirk Jones, has achieved his boyhood dreams and has joined the circus.  No doubt he joined by jumping onto a boxcar as it was racing through his neighborhood.  Kirk, Go Take a Nap!  Everyone knows that when you go over Niagara Falls, you're supposed to have a big oak barrel strapped on your body with suspenders.  And you need to warn the media so we can get about 40 camera angles on that shit.

By Jack Jackson

     Tennis star Andy Roddick will star in his own reality show called "The Tour".  I used to tell TV producers to Go Take a Nap! whenever a new reality show was announced.  I now forgive them.  It is the American Going Public who needs to Go Take a Nap!  These shows are only produced because you all watch them.  Reality shows are little more than amateur pornography, filling your voyeuristic needs, and here's a little secret: they're all edited down and falsified for maximum sluttiness.

     Andras Simonyi, the Hungarian ambassador to the U.S., claims that rock music brought down Communism in Hungary.  Just think of what rock is doing for the war on terrorism!

     And poor Prince Charles is under attack for being bisexual.  London media, Go Take a Nap!  First of all, if the crown prince needs to get his familial rocks [jewels] off, what's it matter if it's in his wife or in a butler?  And second of all, who in their right mind would let butt-ugly Prince Charles get within a caber toss of his peepee?  Either the allegations aren't true, or they are.  Either way, it's time for England to quit being that weird other side of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood that the cling-clang trolley visits, eliminate the monarchy, and join the sensible nations in the 21st Century.

By Jack Jackson

     Not much happened in the world of celebrity this week, so here's some updates on what ET's been up to lately.

     ET visited David Blaine and Roy of Siegfried and Roy in their respective and collective hospitals this week.  ET did some magic tricks for the ailing "magicians" and brought along some care packages which a source close to the care packages claimed were "heavy on the Reese's Pieces."  ET performed his street magic of levitating a slight bit off the ground for David Blaine, and then did something with his lit finger to Roy that will make it unnecessary to reattach the quarter skull back.  Doctors now plan to split the eBay profits of the original quarter skull inside Roy's abdomen.  When asked where he was headed next, ET let out a wry and characteristic smile, lifted his head up and extended his neck, and said in a Captain James T. Kirk sort of way, "Home."

      The new movie, Kill Bill: Volume One already has a director's cut in the works for the two-disc DVD release.  Notable bonus scenes will include Uma Thurman visiting ET in his Malibu home, playing poker with Johnny Carson and David Letterman and Tony Randall, and ET gives Uma his ceremonial Japanese kimono.  When Uma thanks ET, ET lets out a wry and characteristic smile, lifts his head up and extends his neck, and says in a Captain James T. Kirk sort of way, "Domo."  Secondary audio tracks will include a Mystery-Science-Theater-3000-style send-up of the movie by none other than ET himself.  Word has it this is funny as shit, because you can hear ET eating Corn Nuts the whole time.

     The Indiana Jones Trilogy DVD box set also has some ET bonus scenes, the best of which comes from Temple of Doom.  Most of Short Round's dialogue and stunts were done by ET in a green suit that would later have Jonathan Ke Quan chroma-keyed over the top.  Notably funny is when ET and Harrison Ford walk to that chamber with the spikes and the falling ceiling, and ET says to Harrison, with a wry smile, "Feel like I step on Reese's Pieces."  And then Harrison whips ET super hard and ET runs, giggling, with his hands on his butt, but he realizes he can fly, so he just flies above Harrison but that doesn't stop him because the whip is long enough to reach ET still, and ET gets his ass whipped about ten times, and then on the eleventh, a cake comes out with the crew and sparklers are on it, and they sing Happy Birthday to ET and Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise show up to cut the cake and make more outtakes.

     The best bonus scene, of course, is when ET hides the Shankara Stones and Bill Clinton shows up and plays Yakety Sax while Arsenio Hall makes a long-distance call using a pay phone.

By Jack Jackson

     Pat O'Brien of Access Hollywood is bandying about running for governor of South Dakota.  Great, Arnie, see what you've started?  Let's only elect celebrity governors from now on.  Imagine what it would be like at the governor's convention if everyone were famous!  It'd be a real who's-who of who's who's.  Pat, Go Take a Nap!  You belong on Access Hollywood interviewing the celebrities, not leading South Dakota into the new millennium.  Er, come to think of it, it'd be pretty cool to have a celebrity governor in South Dakota, wouldn't it?  Future races I'd like to see: Oprah v. Springer for Illinois (was Ebert v. Siskel until Siskel died); Nolte v. Carson for Nebraska; Woody Allen v. Jerry Seinfeld (New York); Wayne Newton v. Roy (Nevada).

     Mel Gibson has finally found a distributor for "The Passion of Christ", independent Newmark Films.  Mel's struggles really make you wonder just how many movies about crucifying Christ there are floating around out there without a distributor.  I'm guessing at least one more.  But Mel, you should Go Take a Nap!  Before you consider making any Christ movie again, you better make sure you have a distributor lined up, and you better make sure you change the ending so the Romans end up looking bad.

     Roger Moore went to Cambodia this week to encourage greater usage of iodized salt.  What Cambodian authorities don't realize is that he left with microfilm of Cambodia's secret weapon plans for the Weather Dominator from Cobra Command.

     And look out American-going Public!  A new cable channel is coming your way, called the Gaming Television Network [gaming=gambling--Eds.].  I wonder who could possibly be responsible for the venture capital of this bold, new endeavor to encourage gambling in the world [gambling=gaming--Eds. (man in black suit gave us money)].  Could it be owners of casinos in Las Vegas?  Las Vegas, Go Take a Nap!  How in the hell did you become a family vacation spot?

By Jack Jackson

     When someone famous dies, it is Hollywood's job to fill their shoes as profitably as possible.  Peter Sellers died, and his shoes were "filled" by Roberto Benigni (the Italian version of Yakov Smirnoff).  And since that didn't work out, it's Steve Martin's turn, allegedly, to play that lovable bumbling French detective, Inspector Clousseau.  Steve Martin, Go Take a Nap!  You haven't been funny in decades (been hanging out with Robin Williams too long, not doing cocaine?), so why do you think you can revive the Pink Panther series?  Moreover, since Henry Mancini is dead, are they going to have Randy Newman fill in and rewrite the theme song?  It would all be better if the respectable thing was done, which would be to have the venerable Hal Linden do the job.

     Clint Eastwood wished Arnold Schwarzenneger good luck this week.  If budgetary concerns and the quality of education are anything like predatory aliens or evil robots, I don't think Arnie is going to need any of our support.  In fact, I'd wish Arnie bad luck.  He seems to pinch off his best one-liners (bons mots) when the chips are down.

     Bible-thumping Mexicans prayed for the transformation of Marilyn Manson in Monterrey, Mexico.  They prayed for his soul and hoped he would know God.  So, is being a shock schlock rocker what it takes to get some prayers for you these days?  Bible-thumping Mexicans, Go Take a Nap!  Whatever happened to praying for getting into a car accident?  Or playing on a football team?  Or straddling a toilet puking pure bile?

     Pamela Anderson, Paul McCartney, Russell Simmons, and Kweisi Mfume all want you to stop eating the chicken at KFC because they drug the chickens to become weak under their own weight and they boil the chickens alive to get the feathers off more quickly.  C'mon Pam, Paul, Russell, and Kweisi, Go Take a Nap!  Everyone knows that the reason Kentucky Fried Chicken had to change its name to KFC is because the FDA made them since there's not any actual chicken in their fried chicken.  And here's another little secret: there _is_, however, some of the Colonel in the Colonel Sanders recipe.

      In order to relieve pressure on Roy of Siegfried and Roy's skull, doctors simply removed a fourth of it.  But don't worry, folks, he's just like me.  Born with it, keep it, is what I always say.  So, the doctors put the 1/4 skull into Roy's abdomen for safe keeping until they can glue that melon back together again for when the swelling goes down.  Doctors, Go Take a Nap!  Just because there's swelling doesn't mean you throw out a quarter of the baby with the bathwater!  I mean, how would you solve the problem of a really prolonged erection?

     Suzanne Pleshette and James Garner will fill the shoes of John Ritter as grandparents of the teenage daughters that you can't date unless you follow eight simple rules.  This goes to prove my old theory that one Ritter is worth a Pleshette and a Garner.  Do you think if Pleshette and Garner die, they'll be replaced by two sets of great-grandparent who will dish out the justice according to the eight simple rules?  You know I vote Hal Linden, Gene Rayburn, Ms. Youree Harris, and Twiggy.

     David Blaine's plastic box stint stunt is finally over, and now he's in the hospital because the walls of his heart have thinned.  Why?  Not because of all the sadness in the world, but because of lack of potassium.  I guess he should've hid a banana in his tailpipe.

By Jack Jackson

     I can't say that anything unusual is happening in London right now, in regards to David Blaine.  I do know that he is most likely craving a White Castle Crave Case right now.  And I would like the White Castle in my neighborhood to Go Take a Nap!  Your shitball burgers are 46¢ a piece, so don't advertise the 10-bag as some sort of special at $4.60!  And I'll be damned if that Crave Case of 20 at $9.20 is a bargain.  Let me see.  I give you $9.20 of my hard-earned money, and what do I get?  I get the shits, a stomach ache, and coronary heart disease.

     Rush Limbaugh admitted he is addicted to pain killers.  Well, if he's right about his political influence, I'd expect to see Bible-thumpers, booger-mustachioed conservatives, and even Bill O'Reilly himself take up the habit, too.  Oh wait, I guess they're all too busy sending their sub-par, coke-addict children through Yale who will some day rule the world.

     Steve Wynn, multimillionaire freak who owns the Mirage in Las Vegas [Lost Wages--Ed. [Ed does not agree that it is always Lost Wages-Ed #2]], says Montecore (Italian for "bites-Roy-in-the-neck-core") was just trying to help Roy off the stage.  Siegfried is trying to pawn off this version of the story, too.  Why?  There was, of course, a woman with a big hairdo in the seats.  Goddamn!  Steve, you are a genius!  That explains why there are no Roys in Africa to be found where there are women with big hairdos.  Can I get a big, gigantic, tiger-sized Go Take a Nap!?!?!  Roy was attacked, nearly killed, by a tiger.  And everyone involved is making excuses.  Can I get a little reality check here?  Tiger attacks lame magician.  No further explanation needed.  Tigers, by their very nature, seek out and destroy lame magicians for sport.  End of story.  Stop making excuses.

By Jack Jackson

     Courtney Love has overdosed.  And this made national news.  That would be like if Frank Sinatra got drunk on whiskey and it made front page news.  Well, it would be slightly different since Frank is dead, and it would probably really be national news if his corpse was drinking Bourbon.  But Courtney, Go Take a Nap!  They caught you freaked out trying to break into someone's home.  We all know the rules of doing drugs: know your dealer; only take what you can handle; and have a sober friend around to keep a lookout.  I'm guessing Courtney violated all three of these precious rules.

     Roy of Siegfried and Roy was mauled by his own tiger and dragged off stage by the neck, on his 59th birthday.  That'll teach you to overcharge for your lame magic show, Roy.  He claims this incident has nothing to do with the tiger.  Roy of Siegfried and Roy, Go Take a Nap!  It has everything to do with the tiger.  Without the tiger, you'd still have two intact carotid arteries and one complete neck.  I know the show won't be the same without the tigers, but David Blaine does magic without tigers, doesn't he [Hanging in a box is not magic.--Eds.]?

      Rush Limbaugh's deafness last year is no longer so mysterious.  He was popping OxyContin, Hydrocodone, and Lorcet like a depressed rock star.  Police have arrested his dealers, so he'll just have to do the respectable thing, and find a new dealer so he can take away the pain of having to quit ESPN after making nearly racist statements about black quarterbacks and the media.  Rush, Go Take a Nap!  If you think anyone still listens to you, you're right.  You're way right.  You're so right, that you deserve some more painkillers.

     And from our London newsdesk: Enya is rumoured to have a secret fiancee, supposedly a man named Peter Richardt.  C'mon Enya, fess up!  Keeping fiancees secret should Go Take a Nap!  How are you going to get all your wedding registry gifts from Target and Old Navy if you don't tell anyone you're engaged?

By Jack Jackson

     Movie stars [we aren't sure which movie stars he's referring to--Ed.] have started fancying a Russian drug developed by the KGB, called RU-21 which allows movie stars to get totally trashed and not feel the effects of a hangover the next day.  Proper dosage=one pill per two drinks.  Movie stars, Go Take a Nap™!  We drink, we get trashed, we deal with the effects.  If those pounding headaches, nights spent in bathrooms, and barfings of pure bile weren't there to remind us the next day of just how stupid we were that previous night, we'd all become total assholes all the time.  And we can't have that, now can we?

     David Blaine's blessed detractors are at it again.  A "smartly dressed man" fired pink paint balloons at his box, nailing one side of it.  Witnesses say David stood up and was afraid, not knowing what happened.  David, Go Take a Nap!  You know what happened.  A smartly dressed man hit your damn box with some pink paint.  Maybe the pink paint should be your first clue.  Now get back to bed, hippie!  Oh, and don't even think about trying this stunt again, because you know Gallagher will be on the way.

     Stevie Nicks has called the kiss between Madonna and Britney the most obnoxious television moment ever.  If by "most obnoxious", she means "the one event causing more sperm to be shot into toilets than ever before," she's right.  [We think sinks and toilets--Eds.]

     Personal note: I am concerned that I haven't seen Mayor McCheese lately.  See http://rintintin.colorado.edu/~grayd/McCheese.html for more information.

By Jack Jackson

     Poor David Blaine, hanging from a crane, in a clear plastic box, over London.  What's worse?  He's being mocked by pub-goers.  I'll tell you what.  If I lived in London, and I had to see that dime-store magician, who uses camera tricks to make himself levitate, on a daily basis flouting his ego on my city, I'd go get drunk and mock him, too!  I'd even bite my thumb at his lame ass.  So, one more time, David, all of the world wants you to Go Take a Nap!  And get off of your high...box...hung by a crane.

     The lead singer of a "shock" band ["shock" bands generally appeal to youths and have lots of make-up on and play loud rock guitar with lots of feedback--Ed.] called Hell on Earth has announced that a terminally ill person will kill themselves onstage on October 4th in St. Petersburg.  A city councildude has expressed concern that the band will be assisting suicide and that, my friends, is a second-degree felony.  Councildude, Go Take a Nap!  Everyone knows that the show must go on.  Would we have pasties if we adhered to the letter of the law?  Would we have blue comedy onstage?  Would Ozzy Osbourne be allowed to bite the heads off of bats?  I think not.  The entertainment of the American-going Public must be preserved by the laissez-faire attitudes of local law enforcement officials.  And maybe, someday soon, we can have genuine gladiator games return.

     This just in: Paul McCartney was caught in a fracas near David Blaine's clear plastic box in London.  Seems he didn't want his photograph taken near the box.  No shit, Paul.  I wouldn't want to be associated with that loser, either.  And to think someone almost had proof that you were gawking at that lame ass' stunt, is starting to make me lose faith in your songwriting ability.

     Dear Harlene Stein, widow of Ronald Stein, has sued Eminem (sometimes referred to as Marshall Mathers, III, which makes him sound more like the husband of Lovey on Gilligan's Island, IMHO) for copyright infringement.  Ronald wrote a song that Eminem took and rapped over without attribution or any licensing fees.  Now, normally, here is where I would go on my rant about how I hate modern copyright law and how we got along just fine for thousands of years without it and how we don't need it to spur creativity to authors, but here, I'm gonna go ahead and tell Eminem to Go Take a Nap!  How could you steal from a 70-year-old grandmother like that?  Think of her children!  And her grandchildren!  Will no one save our children?!

By Jack Jackson

     To no one's surprise, even themselves, Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck have separated.  I guess Matt Damon was getting a little upset that his boyfriend wasn't giving him enough attention anymore.  And J. Lo no doubt is trying to find Puffy right about now.  It's for the best, really.  Matt and Ben make a cute couple, and Puffy and J. Lo are multidimensional stars who only really can understand each other.  So, with little fanfare, I would like to tell J. Lo and Ben Affleck to admit that their marriage plans have Gone and Taken a Nap!  If you think this separation is temporary, you're just plain dumb.

     The entertainment world was hit hard this week with the deaths of Johnny Cash and John Ritter.  Johnny's death wasn't so surprising, since he wanted to follow his dear, departed wife on up to the big ring of fire in the sky.  But John Ritter's death was a surprise.  I guess he had a dissected aorta.  That doesn't sound good.  Dissected aorta, Go Take a Nap!  You ruined one of our favorite sitcom stars of all time.  What's ABC going to do now?  Rename the show "Some Simple Rules About Dating My Dead Ass's Daughters"?

     R. Kelly said that he feels like Osama Bin Laden.  Why?  Because of all the bad press he's getting from his child pornography suit.  I'm not sure if I see the connection.  R. Kelly, Go Take a Nap!  You don't feel like Bin Laden.  You feel like a statutory rapist!

By Jack Jackson

     Britney Spears finally got off her butt and started to say stupid shit again this week.  First, she claimed she'd never kiss another woman again, unless it was Madonna.  (If you recall, Britney kissed Madonna at some MTV awards show and then lots of dudes around the country had to go to the bathroom for awhile.)  C'mon, Britney, Go Take a Nap!  You know you're going to kiss another girl.  In fact, I know you already have.  I keep getting all these emails saying I can buy videotapes of you kissing Anna Kournikova, you know, down there.  So quit your lying, come on out of the closet, and don't forget the to tape your bedroom exploits and put them up on Kazaa!

     Britney didn't stop there.  She went on to say, "Honestly, I think we should just trust our president in every decision that he makes and we should just support that."  Well, Britney, if the president decided that we all should go jump off a cliff, would you support that, too?  What about a presidential executive order requiring you to kiss Anna Kournikova?  Britney, Go Take a Nap [that's twice in one week, for two total naps]!  We invaded Iraq as part of a general plan of conquest.  Do you support conquest?

     Newsflash: the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) will crumble under its own idiocy in the next ten years.  Newsflash: musicians everywhere will throw a big-ass party to celebrate the downfall of the RIAA.  Hey, RIAA, did you realize that you're suing your customers?  How about the fact that 60 million Americans use file-sharing software?  Do you really think that you're going to win anything meaningful by suing a 12-year-old girl?  See http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,96797,00.html.  Well, I'll be damned if I ever buy a CD (read "tape") from you bloodsucking bastards again.  RIAA, Go Take a Dirt Nap!  Music existed before you, and does not need you.  In fact, the entirety of music will benefit by your quickest demise.

By Jack Jackson

     Did you hear about David Blaine's new "trick"?  No, he's not going to use camera tricks to make himself levitate.  No, he won't do crazy street card tricks.  This time, he's going to live in a clear box, suspended from a crane, over London's Thames River.  The clincher?  He's going to be up there for 44 days.  Can I get a collective subconscious Go Take a Nap!?!?!  He's calling it a "performance-art piece."  I'm calling it a waste of time, just like all performance art.  Come to think of it, all magic is a waste of time, too, so at least we're being efficient when it comes to wasting time, since we're wasting time in two completely different ways.  And it's also a waste of a perfectly good crane and clear box, which should be filled with crickets and released at a high school pep rally.

     David Letterman is celebrating his 10th year with CBS this week.  This coincides with his 10-year anniversary of the last time he was funny.  Letterman, Go Take a Nap!  Get back to your later time slot.  I want to see Chris Eliot sing the Bananas song like Marlon Brando, Tony Randall every night for no reason, and various items crushed in the 20-ton press again.  And here's some career advice: if you ever get a gig as big as hosting the Oscars again, write some funny jokes.

     Poor Mel Gibson.  He has a movie called Passion but no one will distribute it, because some people don't like how it portrays the Jewish people of the time.  I guess he should've changed the story a little bit.  Maybe have Canadians instead of Jewish people supporting the crucifixion of Christ.  And distributors, Go Take a Nap!  This movie has gotten nothing but positive reviews by those who have actually seen the movie, and you're getting tons of free advertising.  There is an entire slew of movie-going public that will pay money to see this movie.  [On a side note, what do you think about starting a new Catholic high school called Holy Christ?]

     And can the process of turning every television show into 30-DVD box sets please Go Take a Nap!?!?!  I don't understand why people watch reruns in the first place, and now you're telling me that we're paying for them?  [Insert Yiddish-style words here.]

     Anyone have any idea what those people in the blackout did while they had no power for the televisions?

By Jack Jackson

     Due to heat and humidity, the French people are dying like flies.  Maybe instead of drinking wine all day long, they should mix in some fresh, unadulterated, pure, clean water, but not the fluoridated kind that saps your precious bodily fluids.  Fluoridated water needs to Go Take a Nap!

     [Jack Jackson left this note without saying anything more on our desk--Ed.]

By Jack Jackson

     I have to apologize for the scatological nature of my exchange columnist, Dick Danielson.  I also should apologize for the summer of ET jokes.  Nah.  I take that back.  ET jokes are funny.  So are poop, pee-pee, and fart jokes.

     I went and saw Freddy vs. Jason and I must admit, it wasn't too bad of a movie.  [Insert typical line here about how if you're a fan of the genre, you'll likely be a fan of Freddy vs. Jason.]  I was really concerned that Freddy would never be able to kill Jason, firstly because Jason is dead (third time now) and secondly, Jason never sleeps, so you'd think Freddy could never get to him.  Then I started to worry for Jason, since he can't kill Freddy since Freddy can't ever show up in the real world.

     Suffice it to say that the genius screenwriters elegantly disposed of this serious plot hole by not so much as really filling it, but neatly avoiding it completely.  So, you screenwriters can Go Take a Nap!  I want to have a logical explanation as to why Freddy ends up in the [spoiler alert] real world.

     Don't ask me how Jason and Freddy end up carving each other apart like blood-filled, pressurized pinatas.  What was really good was that every time one of them would get cut, blood would spray out, just like those Guinness cans with the nitrogen widget inside.

     Can someone please get the White Stripes to Go Take a Nap!?!?!  They're on every goddamned magazine cover and they're creepy people.

     Well, Adam Ant didn't do anything insane this week, Britney Spears didn't open her piehole wide enough to say anything really stupid, and Ben Affleck, my movie nemesis, admitted that Gigli was a piece of crap.  So I guess I'll just Go Take a Nap!

     Welcome back to school!

By Dick Danielson

     [In order to increase readership during the Internet Sweeps Week, Jack Jackson of Go Take a Nap! fame will be swapping columns with Dick Danielson, author of Go Take a Crap!--ed.]

     I hear that the recall race in California is heating up!  And by heating up, I mean getting interesting!  You've got Arnold from Diff'rent Strokes, a former MLB commissioner, and about 123 other losers who think they can come within two shits of beating Arnold Schwarzenneger.  You 123 losers, Go Take a Crap!  And don't forget to wipe up that stain off the underside of the part of the toilet you sit on.

     Looks like Freddy Kruger and Jason Voorhees will finally end their little spat once and for all by killing each other on the big screen!  What, is Freddy gonna wait until Jason falls asleep, and then scare him to death?  And how is Jason going to get back at someone who only appears in your dreams, since he's one of the undead and likely never sleeps (i.e., if I remember the rich plotlines of the Friday the 13th movies correctly)?  And what I really want to know is, when do Freddy and Jason Go Take a Crap!?!?!  Do you think they poop like other people, or is their poop really scary?

     I want to meet someone who paid to see Gigli, and then I want to tell them that sometimes, you CAN judge a movie by its posters on bus stops.  I also want to tell Ben Affleck to Go Take a Crap!  Oh, wait.  He just took a BIG crap, and it was so big he had to name it: Gigli.

     Are you tired of household makeover shows?  Or dating shows?  Or what about doctor/lawyer/police shows?  Or sitcoms based upon neurotic Italians and Jews?  Well, you're SHIT OUT OF LUCK, mister.

By Jack Jackson

     Because Jack Jackson is on vacation, Billy, aged 8, has taken over this week's column.  Jack Jackson would like you to know that he is doing well and sends his best regards to the grilled chicken he is about to eat.

August 4, 2003--I'm bored and my crayon sharpener is dull.

By Billy

     I don't know why mean uncle Jack makes me do stuff for him.  He's got all kinds of time to do this stuff and he just watches TV news instead of letting me watch Yu-Gi-Oh!  I get mad and sometimes I want to break stuff, but he told me if I do this story right, I can go get a new toy at the store.  So, I guess I'll give it my best shot.

     I heard ET is going to be one of the new Power Rangers!  I have all the zwords and I think ET's zword should be a big long finger with a glowy thing at the end of it!  That would be awesome!  And