Monday, December 10, 2018


Every year, during the holiday season, I do this dumb thing where I find the worst possible Christmas-centric TV movies. I often get loaded on bourbon, and try to learn all about the meaning of the holidays. It is a stupid activity and I don't really enjoy it, but sometimes you do things to keep from staring into the abyss. 

These are the reviews of those movies.
Image result for married by christmas
yeah... you and me both, sister

Well here's a weird one. Either my standards have been worn down like broken glass in the ocean, or this movie is actually good, disguised as corny garbage.

I'm not quite sure where to start; this is two-in-a-row wherein I didn't want to set my television on fire. It wasn't just un-terrible, I think I enjoyed it?

The cast was terrific. (The lead is apparently on LEGENDS OF TOMORROW, which is a show I feel like I want to like, but not enough to watch it.) Everyone is funny, natural, convincing, and likable. I was looking them up on IMDB, not to mock, but to genuinely find other things they've been in, to check more of their work out. The plot was corny and the premise was ridiculous, but they took some twists, and addressed the nonsense inherent in the plot... this was a movie built on cliches, but it laid them out and dissected them, and then allowed then characters to respond to these post contrivances in a casual and realistic way. My jaw dropped multiple times at the unexpected way characters responded to things. It's almost like the filmmakers set out to find a ridiculous premise and let it play out with realistic characters in a genuine way.

The direction is ... dare I say... artful? It has a thoughtfulness and a subtle flair for storytelling, and the performances match it well. Naturalistic, breezy, and honest. Dang, dudes, I was delighted by this movie!

I DON'T KNOW THAT IT WAS GOOD. But judged by other shit-tastic holiday movies, it was surprisingly engaging, I  don't know anything about the "UP" network, where it premiered, or most of the actors, or the director. I know that they all did work that kinda genuinely entertained me. IS THIS MOVIE DOPEY? Maybe, but only inasmuch as it is a movie with no big stars, a silly hook, and a christmas veneer that doesn't really matter. WAS THIS MOVIE SURPRISINGLY AFFECTING? Yeah! The cast was a weirdly great group of mostly-unknowns, who all made sense together; moreso than your freshman college friends, none of who ended up together sexually, and aside from a few on Instagram, you don't really keep up with.

This is not as much of a corny christmas cash-in, as it is a small romantic comedy, with some honest twists and a generic holiday setting for atmospheres' sake. The performances were genuine, and the chemistry between everyone believable. By the end, I was surprised, satisfied, and affected by the directions in which everyone ended up. It feels like one of those movies you watch with your mom when you're home for a funeral, and you end up invested while she posts republican facebook memes on her ipad.

I rate this movie 0 out of 10 Melissa Joan Harts, because it actually doesn't fall on the scale of shitty TV christmas movies. It's a lot of talented people making something that well exceeds expectations. Insane. What the hell is happening?

the queen of terrible christmas movies... long live the queen

Thursday, December 6, 2018


Every year, during the holiday season, I do this dumb thing where I find the worst possible Christmas-centric TV movies. I often get loaded on bourbon, and try to learn all about the meaning of the holidays. It is a stupid activity and I don't really enjoy it, but sometimes you do things to keep from staring into the abyss. 

These are the reviews of those movies.

Image result for the princess switch
through the magic of special effects this actress was cloned. the clone was later incinerated 

(Disclaimer: I was sober when I watched this)

The last time I tried this experiment it was 2016 and I didn't get very far. Since then, we have entered the End Days, and every act seems futile and every good work diminished. All hope is like unto dust and ashes in our mouths. With that in mind, I turn around, and leap with both feet back into the apocalyptic waters of made-for-TV holiday movies. Why not, right?

In the time between right this moment, and my previous foray into this genre, the world has changed drastically. As a culture, we have accepted that the government will sometimes incarcerate migrant children after taking them from their parents. We will witness people posting regular memes about accepting Jesus into a manger while also hoping refugees get tear-gassed along the border. It's a terrible fucking world. Also, streaming service NETFLIX has decided to make their own awful holiday movies.

This is my first NETFLIX MFTVCHM (Made For TV Cornball Holiday Movie). The truth is that there is nothing really to say about it, because it's perfectly fine. It stars Vanessa Hudgens and she is charming and charismatic and yada yada. The rest of the cast is good, and there's no glaring failings in the script or the plot. If I was 8 and gave a shit about princesses, it would probably be my favorite christmas movie. It dips into many of the cliches that these movie roll around in, but it seems to do it knowingly. I can't really tell how self-aware or tongue-in-cheek it is, but if it was made entirely as a soft jab at your typical Hallmark Channel production, I might not be surprised.

Do I need to go into the plot? It's exactly what you expect. Not much to say here about surprise twists. Not much to say about anything, really. There's a magical Irish who keeps popping up. That's new. He's old and has crazy hair, and bells twinkle and shit when he says something portentous. (In my follow-up fan fiction he gets burned alive in a Wicker Man.) At one point, in an amazing bit of internal cross-marketing, the characters in this Netflix original movie log onto Netflix to watch a Netflix original movie. Worlds within worlds!

In short, everyone is attractive and charming. The plot is predictable and kind of dull, but engaging in a Cute-woman-switches-places-with-a-princess-and-they-both-learn-lessons-and-fall-in-love kinda way. There's nothing really terrible enough to make fun of. I got bored pretty quickly. The good news is that because this wasn't all that offensive, I am not going to burn myself out so quickly this year, drunkenly typing "FUCK THESE MOVEISSS" at one a.m., five days from now. This is better than that Mickey Mouse version of THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER which I saw for some reason when I was 14, but not as good as DEAD RINGERS, which I also saw at age 14, and also features an attractive person in dual roles, but with drug abuse and weird gynecology.

I rate this movie 7 out of 10 Melissa Joan Harts

the queen of terrible christmas movies... long live the queen

Tuesday, December 6, 2016


Every year, during the holiday season, I do this dumb thing where I find the worst possible Christmas-centric TV movies (usually from the powerhouse film factory at the ABC FAMILY network), get loaded on bourbon, and watch third-rate basic cable actors teach us all about the meaning of the holidays. It is a stupid thing to do and I don't really enjoy it, but sometimes you do things to keep from staring into the abyss. 

These are the reviews of those movies.


this is what hell looks like
This isn't actually Day One.

I started another movie last night, but I experienced a little Hulu-itis Interruptis when my bride came down the stairs, said "Oh. So you're doing this again?", and then decided it was more of a GILMORE GIRLS evening.

I went to bed early.

I don't really care for the GILMORE GIRLS. Were I being honest, I would say "I hate that goddam show and just the sound of it, floating in the air, hurts my earholes and my heart."I have opted to be positive, and just say that i don't care for the GILMORE GIRLS, since that sounds more gentle. But holy living fudge that show makes me want to stick knitting needles in my eyes. I've never seen a show so obsessed with class, that gets it so horribly wrong. The rich people are caricatures from the 1930s (I swear Richard Gilmore grew a moustache to look more like the Monopoly Man) and the poor people are about as realistically portrayed as the garbage puppets from ELMO IN GROUCHLAND. Granted it's set in central Connecticut, where even poverty comes with a Mayflower pedigree, so maybe it gets a pass on the realism of the class divide, but it's no less painful to sit through.

Also, can we talk about Luke? What an obnoxious monster. The sneering, the scowling, the temper tantrums... he may be the worst possible boyfriend in a show that should be subtitled "HORRIBLE BOYFRIEND PARADE". Most unforgivable of all, why does he wear a hat indoors? WHY?

GILMORE GIRLS has a lot of problems, but I suppose on the plus side, it is competently shot and edited, with professional actors saying lines written by people who know how to construct a story.


A DOGWALKER'S CHRISTMAS TALE has a lot of problems, including being barely competently shot and edited, with alleged actors saying lines written by people who cashed a paycheck. I always feel bad shitting on these dumb movies, and I try to approach them with an open mind. I have seen several I would watch again (See TWELVE DATES OF CHRISTMAS or the amazing CHRISTMAS BOUNTY as examples ), and I truly believe that talented people are not always wasting their time in the mercenary hunt for a few kopeks when it comes to these basic cable holiday poop-fests.

This one is so hard to get through that I have spent the netter part of the past thirty minutes wondering what Lorelei ever saw in Luke (SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!). The leads are bland and annoying, and the story is so fucking typical and predictable, I am sitting here imagining the next scene while only paying about 20% attention. This is not because I am a smart man. I am not. It is because this movie is like a connect-the-dots for toddlers.

Here's a crazy idea for future cinematographers slumming it in the Christmas Movie ghetto. When you have an exterior shot on a cold cloudy day, don't overdo it with the warm bounce lighting on your actors that makes it look like they are lit from the inside like a lawn Santa. Especially when the next scene is all natural light and it looks like a polaroid from the 1970s. That was a specific complaint that will haunt me the rest of this viewing experience. Through all the stilted performances, horrible dialogue, manufactured melodrama, dopey musical cues, and weird edits, the poor attention to consistency in lighting of exterior shots will drive me nuts for the next 65 minutes.


I am so bored and irritated by this experience I am becoming obsessed by the continuity of the light. Well, the two leads are falling in love now. I thought they were just going to playfully tease each other forever!

I think that's all I got in me.


Tuesday, March 1, 2016

THE CARRY ON COCKTAIL KIT, a world of awesome review

So I tried the "Carry On Cocktail Kit". It's a novel little item and it was fun to play with. I took pictures! 

Here we go!

So there I was, just sitting on a plane from Dallas to Portland, watching LE SAMOURAI on my iPad. Is it okay to admit that I don't really like French New Wave cinema? I felt like it was a thing you were supposed to like when I was in film school in the late 1990s. A lot of people had the ALPHAVILLE poster on their walls and we talked about Godard a lot. I guess I get why people are enamored of it, but it never grabbed me. Sometimes it just downright baffles me. I have probably started BREATHLESS at least 20 times and I get desperately bored and annoyed between 45 and 60 minutes in. LE SAMOURAI was alright, though. I don't think I ever finished it, but it has some very cool cars.

I picked the Old Fashioned Cocktail Kit, because the other choices were the Gin and Tonic or the Moscow Mule, and they just came with syrups and miniature jiggers. Also, I'm not drinking a Moscow Mule out of a plastic cup. What am I, a Dirty Water Dog, like a street vendor would serve to a tourist?

The kit comes with a bunch of cute stuff that is mostly just cute. Instructions, tiny cloth baggies, miniature muddling spoon. It's CUTE.

The plane I was on only had Jack Daniel's. Not my first choice for an Old Fashioned. Not ANYONE'S first choice for an old fashioned. But we take what the Lord provides, right? And as a native son of the great state of Tennessee, I have no ill will towards the sour mash miracle of Lynchburg. However this was not bourbon, and would not be quite right. I did it anyway.

I knew going in what I was doing.

There's enough sugar and bitters for two drinks. Everything has an airplane printed on it. Cute, right? I'll tell you right out of the gate, make some room if you want to mix this bastard up on a plane. There's lots of gear involved, and the tray table is wee.

It was fine. I felt like alternately like a fancy gentleman and an enormous asshole mixing this thing. Muddling the sugar took some time, long enough to really reevaluate how I had gotten to this place in my life. I could have been reading a great piece of literature, or finishing the classic piece of cinema I promptly forgot about. I could have been drawing; by god I used to draw a lot. I filled up sketchbooks like crazy, and worked hard making comics and art that really got me through some rough patches. I made work I enjoyed, and felt good to create. Somewhere along the way I just lot the drive. Maybe it was having a kid? That's draining, and a good excuse, but the truth is I got lazy about generating art well before that. I guess it's the fear of failure? Not that it was ever about succeeding, or winning something, but at a certain point, maybe it's not worth burning calories on something that ultimately is just for your own brief amusement. Who knows.

Ultimately, I spent my time making two Old Fashioneds with airplane bottles of Jack Daniel's. One hour closer to the grave!

There it is. It's sitting on a tiny fabric napkin that has a tiny airplane printed on it. Just cute as hell. It is also on top of the laptop that is now sitting in my lap as I type upon it. A connection to the past! 

I just published another post about "flying in style" or some such bullshit. (read it here) It wasn't very good, but I could have added a bullet point such as "BRING YOUR OWN COCKTAIL KIT". 

I'm not going to do that, although this was a fun little project. Is it worth doing again? Hard to say. I will almost certainly reuse the tiny bitters bottle.

Portable bitters are awesome.
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Saturday, February 6, 2016

ST. MARK'S IS DEAD and Life in the East Village

Last week, I finished a terrific book. It is a relatively new release, as of this writing, and looks like this:

I heartily recommend it. It's smart, crisply written, witty, and the author has a broad view of history that keeps things objective, and described with an admirably holistic perspective. For anyone not familiar with NYC, this book is an amazing but of microcosm history; the history of the City, the country, and modern culture in general, all represented by a street that has managed to rewrite itself every ten years or so. For anyone that is familiar with life in the East Village, it's a ripping good yarn, and revelatory in the way you always hope non-fiction will be. 

It opened up a lot of memories/wounds/emotions in my brain and I will talk about them now.

The overlap of my life and the life of New York's East Village is a wee Vesica Piscis of less less than a decade, with my time working on (and essentially consumed by) St. Mark's Place being only slightly slightly bigger. It takes up most of my early and mid-twenties, which is a tender time when you make a lot of stupid mistakes, sleep very little, and generally still have plenty of puberty fueling your brain. My first experiences with St Marks Place are tied to young love, which is always nice for warm nostalgia. My college girlfriend (a great person and still a good friend) lived over the Mojo Guitar Shop, and right across from Yaffa Cafe (both "PERMANENTLY CLOSED" to use the harsh parlance of Google). Our first date was a midnight showing of CITY OF LOST CHILDREN at the Anjelika, and I walked her home through the mid-nineties barrage of 3 am drug-dealers. It was creepy and unsafe and I had no idea it would soon be my happy home. Not only was I often in that apartment, I was also soon hired at a notorious retail establishment, a job which outlasted the romance by several years.

Drawings I did in 2009 remembering St Marks Place in 1999. 
The author of ST. MARKS IS DEAD apparently worked at the same store I did; I suspect we only missed each other by weeks, since we are evidently the same age. This was during college and a few years thereafter for me, and the shop in question was at the time a highly enviable spot for part-time work. It had a reputation for being a cool, if difficult place, with an infamous cast of attractive and tattooed/pierced/be-mohawked girls working the register. I worked the night shift, which meant dealing with St Marks weirdos until one in the morning, which is when the prime weirdos were just getting started. We would kick out junkies, roll our eyes at the gutter punks, get star-struck by the frequent famous rock star or indie film actor, and then roll out into the night to drink cheap beers with ill-advised cash advances on our paychecks. The entire east village was our stomping ground, when there was still grounds to stomp (almost every bar we frequented between 3rd Avenue and Avenue C are all gone).

I lived on Avenue B for several years, and saw a drastic change in just a few short years. From junkies on the stoop, needing to be bribed with bottles of Red Stripe before they let you enter, to a velvet rope and bouncer, guarding a tapas bar that had opened in the former home of SAVE THE ROBOTS. The bouncers gave us more grief than the junkies, and I knew it was probably time to migrate to Brooklyn like every single other human under 25 was doing at the time.

Like anyone else who ever visited the East Village will always say, it's a very different place now. Most of the bars we enjoyed are gone, or so drastically changed as to be unrecognizable. Sounds and Kim's are gone, and the hours I spent looking at those shelves and racks are a stupid memory. I don't have a lot of rose-tinted nostalgia in this life, but it was a genuinely great place to live, when I lived there, at the age I was living through. I have funny anecdotes and awesome memories enough to fill a couple of different lifetimes.

Here's a few of them.
  •  SEX AND THE CITY filmed an episode in the store, and Sarah Jessica Parker had her costume people take photos of me, to use as a model for dressing the "perfect nerd". She later tracked me down to apologize after it occurred to her that that was maybe not flattering. I almost told the entire tale here, but got distracted.
  • While closing the store one night, a co-worker (who has since become a terrific musician and visual artist, but still just a kid at the time) mentioned that he knew of a post-fashion show party in Chelsea. We all scrambled to dress in a variety of Star Trek uniforms on display, hopped in a cab, and tried to convince the person at the door of a fancy club on the west side that we were, in fact, on the list. It did not work and we were suddenly stranded in Star Trek uniforms and carrying extra bottles of beer. I don't remember how we got home.
  • One Christmas Eve, after getting holiday shit-blasted on whiskey, a few of us emerged from being the only people in a bar by Tompkins Square to see a few clean inches of snow had fallen. The entire area was ours to play in as snow drifted down through the street lights. No one got hurt, and that was a Christmas miracle 
  • One of the greatest shows I have ever seen was on St. Mark's Place. A BLACK SABBATH cover band, with a chubby, middle-aged lead singer that put on a star-spangled wizard's hat when they performed THE WIZARD. It was amazing. 
  • I think they opened after I moved away, but goddam if CRIF DOGS hasn't been a great event anytime I've been there.
  • My bride and I ended up on St. Mark's Place towards the end of our first date, eating Afghan food at Khyber Pass, while she told me about all the shows she saw at Coney Island High, which used to sit across the street. 
There's way too many more to type, and after typing those, I realize how much of the post-adolescent era is probably a you-had-to-be-there situation. 

At any rate, living in the East Village in the late 1990s was awesome, and ST MARK'S IS DEAD is also awesome.

Thursday, December 17, 2015


Because of my impeccable taste, for 353 days I watch only the most sophisticated and enriching of entertainments. But during the holiday season, I have made a tradition of finding the worst possible Christmas-centric TV movies (usually from the powerhouse film factory at the ABC FAMILY network), getting loaded on bourbon, and watching third-rate basic cable actors teach us all about the meaning of the holiday. These are the reviews of those movies.

Is that freedom rock? Well, turn it up!


When I do my nightly cruising through Netflix (like Al Pacino looking for a serial killer), I try to find a perfect combination of a few key elements, and I avoid a few red flags. A young, urban lady with a lot to prove is always a good start. Actors who previously had long runs on mediocre sitcoms is another good sign. Romance elements that involve magic, or trickery. On the flip side, I never ever watch anything with an orphaned child who has a "Christmas Wish". Nothing with Jesus stuff. And child actors, in general, are just not happening. Nothing ruins a movie faster than mediocre children, and to make it worse, you can't make fun of them later. They're just kids- they can't help being shitty.

I picked A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS because I am a Southern Person, and I thought it might involve porches and banjos and old dudes that wear overalls and don't say anything or ever have emotions. Sadly, this movie is set in New Mexico. It's set on a ranch, not a farm, and people wear cowboy hats as opposed to these:

This is not a "country christmas".

I was predisposed to hate this movie because it not only has two precocious kids as leads, it also is substituting some weird political "war on Santa" for the bullshit "war on Christmas" that 8% of the population pretend is a news story. This movie is set in a utopian future where some heroic politician passes a law where believing in, talking about, or otherwise mentioning Santa Claus is illegal. Said politician is played by KEVIN POLLAK, you guys. And his advisor is Illeana Douglas. For three minutes of this movie, actual actors show upo and light things up. The remiaing hour and fifty-seven minutes is two kids having the world's worst adventure. A lot of it revolves around a "viral video". Barf.

The plot involves a real Santa Claus, a sick mom, devious politicos, and a lot of adobe style homes. That's as much as I want to type about that.

Santa is cast against type here, and I'm all for it. He's played by the big doofus orderly from ER, and as opposed to being a spritely old fart, MIRACLE ON 34th STREET style, his Santa is played as a benevolent magic creature, like Tom Bombadil or Doctor Who. He's weirdly inhuman, but funny and super likable. I really enjoyed the direction he took it. He has an elf helper who is played by a little person, which always squicks me out. Little People don't look like magical beings, they look like functioning adults with a medical condition. I thought WILLOW taught everyone a lesson. That shows what I know.

Joey Lauren Adams is in this, playing a Mom, alongside an actor who looks like a roadie for FOGHAT. I am old enough to remember when Joey Lauren Adams would be The Fox, although to be fair, she's still a total fox, just not in the way where doofuses in Los Angeles would cast her as a young single lady. She's moved onto "mom" territory now, I suppose. Let me reiterate; she's still a fox, though, and good grief, she's a perfectly great actress! Comedy or otherwise. This is a super-depressing "sick parent" turm, but she can be funny as hell. PARTY DOWN was a nice bit of JLA cameo appearancing. PARTY DOWN is probably a better way to spend time than A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS. I'm gonna go out on a limb with that one. 

As I mentioned a few paragraphs back, Kevin Pollak is in this movie, playing a Christmas-ruining politician named "Schmucker". Is this okay? I mean, that's yiddish. He's clearly playing a malevolent Jew. He ruins Christmas in New Mexico and he looks like a cartoon drawing of an ashkenazi baby-boomer. It's creepy that he's so evidently the villain in this. It makes me feel weird and guilty.

At the 1 Hour 31 minute mark, Child Actress starts sobbing and says to perfectly-still-foxy Joey Lauren Adams, "No you can't have cancer! Please don't die!", and everyone, including Foghat Dad starts crying. Child Actress begs Santa to keep her Mom from dying, but his special powers are gone because a Jew Politican made people not believe in him. Then there is a public debate where the dirty Jew makes a little girl cry by bringing up Cancer Mom. That's as far as I got. Shit like this makes me not like America. Life is too fucked up as it is without adding this dark-ass misguided political nonsense to it. 

Tomorrow night, I'm back to sexy ingenues trying to decide between rich hunk or hunk-who-loves-Christmas. I am too fragile for anything else.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015


Because of my impeccable taste, for 353 days I watch only the most sophisticated and enriching of entertainments. But during the holiday season, I have made a tradition of finding the worst possible Christmas-centric TV movies (usually from the powerhouse film factory at the ABC FAMILY network), getting loaded on bourbon, and watching third-rate basic cable actors teach us all about the meaning of the holiday. These are the reviews of those movies.

merry christmas odo merry christmas keiko o'brien

This movie is super boring. I chalk that up to it being Canadian. Canada gets a lot of credit for KIDS IN THE HALL and SCTV, but those two shows are outliers, tight? To my mind, Canada still hasn't set the scales right for Anne Murray, DeGrassi Junior High, and movies like CHRISTMAS TOWN. Two classic shows is not enough.

Speaking of KIDS IN THE HALL, this movie stars Nicole de Boer in the role of the Fox. In this case, she's the workaholic brand of Fox, who doesn't have The Christmas Spirit. Will she find a hunk and have a good old fashioned non-threatening holiday adventure? You bet she will.

Nicole de Boer had a non-speaking and recurring role on KITH as the girlfriend of Bruce McCulloch's angsty teen character. She was great, and made memorable hay out of pouty glances.


She showed up again on DEEP SPACE NINE, playing Ezri Dax, a member of an alien race with a marginally interesting concept but a deadly dull execution. They had spots. 

DEEP SPACE NINE is a weird show. Many people love it so hard. I tried it again and again, and it was pretty thin soup, even after Avery Brooks shaved his head and grew a goatee. It's odd that it never blew up; the cast was perfectly good, and borderline great in many cases. The premise was terrific, and STAR TREK was a proven brand at that point. Was it the nonsense hokum alien religion business? Was it too heavy a focus on alien politics and bullshit of that nature? Did it totally lack any sense of bold adventure? The answer to all three is yes, of course, but we still tried to like it. We all did. 

De Boer showed up late in the series, replacing a character allegedly popular and well-loved, even though I can't remember her name, nor the actress who played her. (No, wait... Jadzia? I DID IT!) I recall her being dishwater, and all foxiness drowned out by the sexless wardrobe of the future and hair like a pentecostal teen bride. Did hardcore Trek people like this show? I feel like people say they do, although I can't put faces or names on such an opinion. I guess that was in the days before a billion genre shows on a billion options. There was basic cable and some garbage that had spaceships and we ate it all up. If we could all go back in time 15 years, would we say to our young person selves, "Dude! Just wait it out. You will be up all night for two years with a child who hates sleeping, and you can watch entire seasons of KOLCHAK THE NIGHT STALKER, at will, while your offspring sofly demands, half-awake, to watch DANIEL TIGER. There will be more nerd shit available to you than you will be able to process. Movies about robots or superheroes will come out that you not only don't see, you actively avoid them. Spend this time of youth doing more sex, and reading, and exercising BECAUSE YOU WILL GET FAT." 

Youth-person Alex would not listen to that advice. He would only want to know what DANIEL TIGER is and why he wasn't wearing a prophylactic device at a critical point in his future life. He will go ahead and buy a ticket someday to see a  FANTASTIC FOUR movie starring Dark Angel and The Commish. He will live his regrets no matter what advice he is given. Youth-person Alex was too starved for media that catered to his desires. This was an era where Spider man on film would only ever look like this:

It was a different time. 

We watched DEEP SPACE NINE. We knew who Ezri Dax was, and if our interests intersected with sketch comedy, we knew her face already. She was the surly girl who would break Bruce McCulloch's mullet-headed heart. She was a small part of a good world, and we gave her pass.

Then she was in CHRISTMAS TOWN and I didn't pay enough attention to write a real review. The End.