Blog from the Future Past

I've always liked Chris Rock, his manic edginess, so I went to see HIS movie (HIS, since he co-wrote and directed). Lust duels romance in this romantic comedy as Chris plays Richard Cooper, a Wall Street banker living comfortably in New Rochelle with his wife Brenda (Gina Torres) and two rug-rats. Married seven years, Rick gets his storied itch right on time and follows his wandering eye into a 'platonic' relationship with scrumptious old acquaintance, Nikki Tru (Kerry Washington). Coping with temptation is the story line, Rick narrating his travails throughout.

There are some very funny bits here; skits, really... not surprising, given Rock's start in improv. As an example, in one scene Brenda calls 911 when Rick sports an erection for more than four-hours after taking a Viagra palmed to him by his friend George (nice job by Steve Buscemi). Female paramedics in the ambulance save the day, but not the way you're thinking.

These small skits, one liners and sight jokes are the comedic strength of the film. Unfortunately, the story thread was too formulaic to keep up the pace, and I didn't expect such a routine, predictable ending from somone like Chris Rock. Eyes literally on the wide-open prize, Rick succumbs to his guilt and bolts from Nikki. By some sort of miracle or the wave of a wand, he and Brenda heal all wounds. Life goes on in the Westchester 'burbs.... happily, and forever after.

The patent ending deflated a lot of the sharp, kidney-punch humor that built up to it. You can do better than that, Chris. Is that sappy ending what you needed to do in order to get the film made?

Kerry Washington is easy on the eyes, and we get to see a lot of her. If you like Chris, you'll probably like the film, story flaws and all. Rock's sense of comic timing is world-class and his gags original and innovative. Not a fan of Chris Rock? Perhaps another story.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 Tomato Salads

I feel like I'm in a time warp, governed by the spiritual descendents of the criminal Richard Nixon and his morally currupt stooges. I mean, John Mitchell, Spiro Agnew and the rest had nothing on Dick Cheney, Alberto Gonzales and Carl Rove.

George Bush, unfortunately, is more personable. Somehow it helps him get away with this crap.

This time Gonzales takes the fall for Rove. Someone taking the fall for Rove is becoming a weekly occurance.

The development and perfection of the artificial womb will change everything. For the first time, science will offer the ability to gestate a human fetus from zygote implantation to full term without the aid of a human female. Babies will be 'born' without the usual bloody trauma.

Church leaders will decry the new technology as 'unnatural' and artificial birthing centers will become the target of violent fanatics. A law will be passed that all children born through synthetic means be tattooed, as the public becomes leery that children born not of womankind are somehow 'less human' than those squeezed out through a fleshy birth canal.

After two generations, the practice becomes commonplace.

Thus Speaketh The Oracle

Guest Columnist Annie Whiplash

In this age of instant news, a sure way to get your name up in pixels is to express flaming indignation at some supposed insult to your-favorite-demograhic by a public figure--bigger the celeb, the better. News for you, people... insults are in the eye of the beholder, just as much as beauty. If I choose to call someone a 'wet back', for instance, whether you picture a naked bullfighter sweating on top of you, or a short, pimply illegal swimming across the Rio Grand is your business, not mine. I say a word, a mere vibration in the air. What you do with it after that is your business and your problem, if you have one.

When I went to school, 'faggot' didn't mean homosexual. Well, not necessarily. The class faggots, when they weren't whining, were kissing the teacher's ass or ratting you out. They sucked at sports and were generally spaz.

Now do you get it about John Edwards? Back in grade school, you would have stolen his milk and enjoyed watching his lard-ass get regularly pummeled just for being a dweeb.

This flap about words goes beyond mere political correctness. People should use the terms everyone is familiar with, it just makes communications easier.

If you don't like someone, you still own that inalienable American right to call them names... to call a spade a Spade, as it were.

( Annie Whiplash is a regular contributor at Blog from the Future Past )