MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14 Since its introduction in 1993, only the most nimble-minded people have been able to comprehend the intricacies of the baffling military policy known as “don’t ask, don’t tell.” But in Fort Campbell, Kentucky (where last year a gay soldier was beaten to death by a fellow soldier on the Fourth of July), military leaders are taking the task of explicating the wily policy into their own hands. Today’s New York Times tells of the “comprehensive training course” given by Major James Garret to an audience of 48 commissioned and noncommissioned officers on the do’s and don’ts of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Part manners lesson, part triple-X Q&A, Garrett’s hour-long lecture featured the dissection of a variety of iffy homoerotic scenarios, mixed with respect-your-brothers homilies. Attendees were grilled on the distinction between acceptable gay “associational behavior” (going to a gay bar, having gay friends, tucking in your shirt) and unacceptable gay conduct (sucking dicks, voguing). “The policy in a nutshell: conduct,” said Army lawyer Garret, specifying that under most circumstances, beating fellow officers to death with a baseball bat, particularly on Independence Day, will remain a no-no.
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15 Today brought the announcement of the nominees for the 72nd Academy Awards, and as usual, the offerings are a mixed lot. Justice was served with the nominations of Bellingham’s finest, Hilary Swank (Best Actress for Boys Don’t Cry); writers Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor (Best Adapted Screenplay for the brilliant Election); and multi-talented cutie-pie Spike Jonze (Best Director for Being John Malkovich). Justice was held down and defecated upon with the Academy’s failure to nominate Election‘s Reese Witherspoon (when will Oscar learn to honor comedy?) or Man on the Moon‘s Jim Carrey (an actor we never, ever thought we’d be willing to defend). The most interesting race looks to be Best Supporting Actress, where the wonderful Chloe Sevigny (Boys Don’t Cry) is pitted against the almost-as-wonderful Toni Collette (The Sixth Sense); however, both will most likely be trumped by big-lipped sexpot Angelina Jolie, for her splashy but inferior work in Girl, Interrupted. In a most interesting move, the Academy had the smarts to nominate one of the smashing ditties from South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut for Best Song. And while “Blame Canada” may not be the most impressive number from that film’s stellar score (that would be the showstopping “La Resistance”), it is certainly the most prime-time-friendly, featuring the word “fuck” only once.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 16 If there’s one thing that drives Last Days nuts (besides weak coffee, Lenny Kravitz, and the United States’ freakish division of wealth), it’s the indiscriminate bandying-about of the term “racist.” (A primer for arbiters of racism: Announcing that the French have good posture is not racist; contending that they should be forbidden from owning property because of their good posture is.) So it is with great care that we hurl the dreaded “R” word at entertainment website Mr. Showbiz, for their embarrassing write-up on Best Supporting Actor nominee Michael Clarke Duncan. Reporting the nomination of the 6-foot-5-inch, 315-lb. African American actor for his work in The Green Mile, a byline-free Mr. Showbiz story announced that Duncan was so excited by the nomination, “he plumb forgot his mama’s phone number.” The report’s ridiculous Alabammy slant is made even more apparent by the inclusion of Duncan’s own description of the scene: “I couldn’t remember my mother’s phone number…. I had to go get my Palm Pilot and look it up.” (Mr. Showbiz would have you believe Duncan had carved “his mama’s” number in the side of a mislaid watermelon.) Send mockery and complaints to: www.mrshowbiz.com.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 17 Blame Canada, indeed: Under fire for wasting public funds, today the Canadian government defended its financial support of art projects ranging from the invention of a communications device that interacts with rotting grapefruits (to explore “the impact of modern technology on ordinary life”) to the production of a video called Wankers (to explore why gay men are such shameless tramps). “When will Canadian taxpayers get a say in how their hard-earned money is spent?” fumed Reform Party member Inky Mark (!) to Reuters reporters. However, the grant-giving Canada Council stands by their selections, saying it awarded grants to those it felt were pushing the envelope in various art forms. The council added that it was unfair for critics to focus on only a handful of projects, as the council gave grants to 5,000 projects, only a few of which involved rotting fruit and soft porn.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 18 And now, a story so freaking weird it makes our face hurt. From the front page of today’s edition of the Hollywood industry rag Daily Variety came the news that Robin Williams (a.k.a. Mork, Mrs. Doubtfire, and “that loathsome, unbearable freak”) has purchased the film rights to The Kid, the 1999 adoption memoir written by Dan Savage (a.k.a. Keenan Hollahan, and “that goddamned doorknob-licking faggot”). Never mind that in a recent Savage Love column, Dan listed “no more Robin Williams movies” as an upside to the end of the world; Blue Wolf Productions (run by Williams and his former babysitter/current wife Marsha) has ponied up what Daily Variety describes as “a very substantial option” for the chance to develop Savage’s heartwarming, buttfucking tale into a TV series. Asked to elaborate on the substantial sum, Savage said, “No comment,” as he mopped up a puddle of toddler vomit with a handful of $1,000 bills. No word yet on any casting choices, but Last Days would like to suggest that Dan be played by Ben Stiller, and his pretty-boy spouse Terry by Claire Danes. And in the all-important role of “the friend who pre-empts the kid’s circumcision by refusing to give Terry and the baby a ride to the doctor” (played in real life by Last Days), we would like to suggest Ed Asner.
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 19 Today at 12:30 pm, Bill Bradley visited Dick’s on Broadway, where the very tall man purchased a hamburger. Upon being placed in the mouth of the Democratic presidential hopeful, the hamburger was moistened by saliva and chewed to a fine texture, as its starch underwent conversion into simple sugars by the enzyme amylase. The swallowed burger then passed through Bradley’s pharynx and esophagus to his stomach, where its sugars were passed into his bloodstream through his stomach wall, while the remainder of the burger, in the form of the thick liquid chyme, passed into the first section of Bradley’s small intestine. From there, Bradley’s pancreas broke down the burger’s fats, starches, and proteins; his liver helped aid the digestion of the aforementioned fats; and small glands in his intestinal wall secreted enzymes to continue digestion. The digested bits of the burger were then absorbed through small projections of Bradley’s intestinal wall, while the undigested bits passed into his large intestine and were excreted through his anus.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 20 Today something so marvelously, wonderfully wonderful happened to humanity that we can’t bear to stain it with words.
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