Admittedly, I like Evanescence. I even spent something like 30 minutes on my cell phone during the "boat trip" to secure a ticket to their upcoming Chicago concert. (Incidentally, to the one of you who doubted me: they are touring with Nintendo.)

Yet, even I was unprepared for just how freaking cool their new music video is. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.

Well, Rolling Stone gave Liz Phair's new CD three stars proving just how out-of-touch they are. That is, of course, if the Clay Aiken cover photo didn't already let you know. Never mind that Rolling Stone can't grow a set and stick with one editorial stance on American Idol, but if you're going to devote most of your magazine space to something like Idol, it amazes me that you could miss the only interesting thing about it. Instead Time --- a name synonomous with thoughtful analysis of popular music --- is the one who points out that teen American Idol fans' preference for wholesome, talented people over the "slutted-out model wannabes" favorites suggests that the barbarians at the gate of pop culuture are once again bamboozled by kids we only thought we understood. It's a nice little peice by a guy named Joel Stein. Perhaps you've heard of him.

And, of course, it was also Time who had this funny, dead-on comment in their review of the new Liz Phair CD.

"...Guyville didn't sell much, but it cleared an airstrip for everyone from Alanis Morissette to Lauryn Hill and created a Phair cult that exists to this day. Actually, it depends on what day you're reading this. The expiration date on the cult could well be June 24, when Phair's self-titled fourth album hits stores."

It's funny cause it's true. Of course, Liz has got to pay the bills, and that's why she's doing this which I could have told you. But, as that review points out-- and as the Rolling Stone one just glosses over in order to free up some column inchs for speculating about From Reuben to Clay-- it's not gonna work. Josh Tyrangiel of Time elegantly writes:

The Matrix songs on Liz Phair sound like sugar-coated contemporary pop, but they feel all wrong. Pop is equal parts attitude and sound; when the attitude is neediness, the sound is of people running away.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Sigh. As if it's bad enough that Liz freaking Phair is now Caffiene-Free Diet Avril, but as I was grouping all my childhood possessions into "trash" and "ebay" piles earlier today, I stuck in that old "For the Ride" cassette they gave out at Lillith Fair # 2 and, man, what happened to all those female acts? They were about to take over the world! I mean, where's Sarah McLachlan these days? Did she have a kid or something? What about Fiona Apple? Furthermore, why did Elastica drop off the face of the earth again? Hell, where's Republica? All we have left these days is Jewel, who now has, to quote the late Anthony Quinn in Last Action Hero, turned a 360 on us by (a) now OKing boob stares and (b) sucking. And while I'm at it, where are the Spice Girls when you need them?

Speaking of which, the other interesting Idol factoid is that the recent movie was written by none other than Simon Fuller's brother Kim, who also wrote the underapprichated Spice World. SPICE UP YOUR LIFE!

Well, you're probably wondering what I think of the Hulk movie which is slated to come out in a few weeks but which I have had the fortune of seeing early. In short, it's disappointing. I had high hopes because post-Crouching Tiger Ang Lee is a real cinephile's action director, and I was expecting, to quote myself, "mind-blowing action with an introspective edge."

Unfortunatly, the action wasn't mind-blowing at all, nor was there even very much of it. Most of the Hulk's big action sequences are set in forests or deserts where you don't really get the sense of his power. When he does show up in the city, the colatteral damage he unleashes is pedestrian at best. Plus, the Hulk looks like a cartoon throughout. I don't like CGI when it's transposed with real stuff; it will always look like Roger Rabbit.

In fact the movie owes more to Lee's Joy Luck Club than to Crouching Tiger. Most of the 2-hour 12 minute running time is filled with endless jabbering. Even worse its that it seems largely pointless, since it never advances what megre plot is availble. The movie basically follows this formula: jabbber, jabber, jabber... sudden unexplanted plot device... jabber, jabber, jabber, mild action sequence... repeat three times. And, since the script never seems to pin down who these characters are nor why we should care about them or their plight, the jabbering is just boring, not insightful. The tragedy: The Hulk is a Jekel and Hyde of the most human sort; we can all relate to losing our tempers and feeling like a mindless beast, particularly when, in our unthinking rage, we hurt the ones we love. That's what makes the Hulk an interesting character, and, other than a small section of dialogue and really stellar acting from Eric Bana, the movie never explores that theme. Freaking Mallrats did it better in one line.

There is an interesting effect used throughout the film to mimic comic panels. Sometimes it seems brilliant-- particularly in the initial lab sequence-- but mostly it looks like a cheap 1970s camera trick. Other highlights include Jennifer Connelly showing off her Best Supporting Actress chops by acting circles around everone else in the first act and a Stan Lee cameo.

As far as recent comic book movies go, this is no Spider-Man nor is it X2. It might be a better movie than Daredevil but it's not as much fun to watch, if you can imagine that. I give it two and a half stars for some nice visuals. This one just never comes together.

Well, Snopes.com comes to my rescue not once but twice in one day.

For starters, my marketing professor-- like most professors-- doesn't know what he's talking about.

And, people, if I've said it a once I've said it at least two or three times:

there is no such thing as "Grade D meat"

Choke on that, slapnuts.