Hmmm... Became inexplicably transfixed by the horrible movie Rock Star last night. I really can't explain why the movie was made or why I watched it. Tres mystere? Oui. Jennifer Aniston's hair wasn't nearly big enough, Mark Wahlberg didn't get paid nearly enough, and boy were the pants tight. The worst part seemed to be that the story took itself seriously. They saw this as a heartfelt story of dreams and success without all that empty, meaningless sex attached. I kid you not -- spoiler, but really, you're gonna watch this? -- it ends with the Aniston character having opened a coffee shop in Seattle to "do something with her life" and Mark Wahlberg's character doing bad grunge to prove that he's got his shit together now. Eek.

In an alarming coincidence, it's emerged in the news today that Great White is not only still a band, but they travel from place to place trying to kill people with illegal fireworks and have succeeded to the tune of nearly 100 people in a Rhode Island night club. I resist the urge to make inappropriate jokes about musical taste here. I will say, though, that it's no surprise that the place wasn't anywhere near filled to capacity. (Yes, it's a terrible, senseless, tuneless tragedy.)

And in the charmingly amusing story of the day: if a successful writer puts a fictitious zoo in your city, why not build one?