“Watch with Kristin” at E! Online is reporting that Ron Howard and MItch Hurwitz, producers of that apotheosis of TV comedy, Arrested development, have begun contacting cast members to gauge their interest in making a movie based on the show. While nothing is guaranteed, this is wonderful news.

Did somebody say *wonder*?

On wikipedia the other day, the featured entry was on French novelist and playwright Honore de Balzac, and the featured image in that entry was this one:

Ding ding ding!!

Jonathan M. Lovitz, thy bell has rung!

Imagine the possibilities: young Balzac taunted for his name (it’s pronounced balZac!); sulking at his choice of a career in the law (I feel you, Honore! I feel you!); competing with Franz Liszt for women; and generally just struggling to be an awesome writer.

We could have Chris Elliott, whoever does Grey’s Anatomy (though I fear that might be a computer program, or a lonely, hormonally and emotionally unstable teenager with a library of Hallmark cards and self-help books), and me (since it was my idea) write the script, and have Michael Mann direct it (lots of close-ups, slow-mos, and sunglasses). If Sofia Coppola can make a movie about Marie Antoinette, then why can’t we make one about Balzac?

I was chatting with my friend Nirav the other day and our discussion led us to the following question:

Since waterboarding serves as a sort of truth serum (why else would we use it to fight terror?), and since presidential candidates have a tendency to equivocate, obfuscate, and generally be less than truthful, shouldn’t we waterboard candidates during the debates to make sure they’re being honest with the American people?

What’s a little temporary discomfort if it ensures they’re telling us the truth in a time of war? (Though, as Nirav said, and I feel the same way, “seeing Dennis Kucinich waterboarded might make me cry.”)

Should we waterboard our candidates during debates? Vote in the poll here.

The original Coach was built on the Andy Griffith model, with a big, decent guy as the lead and a goofy, smaller man as his devoted but sometimes inept sidekick. You could argue that it’s a timeless model. But right now, it’s not what’s hot. And moreover, it’s not really honest—not when it comes to college football.

Everyone knows that college football is big business. In most states, the highest paid public employee is a college football coach. Washington just lost to Oregon, whose wheels of ascent were greased by the liquid fortune of Phil Knight. USC rode Reggie Bush to several top five finishes, while he and his family allegedly rode in a limousine and pulled in $280,000 in benefits. And the tradition goes back: some of my favorite college football teams are the Miami squads from the late 80s, when 2 Live Crew’s Luther Campbell stalked the sidelines, doling out cash in pre-set amounts as rewards for big plays.

Isn’t it time, then, to resurrect Coach, but take it the Desperate Housewives route (except for scrapping the laugh track—the laugh track must be kept)? Maybe Hayden has some friends who can make some “problems” disappear. Maybe Johnny Heisman roughs up a valet who scratches his Escalade. Maybe a touchdown earns you more than a shining star on your helmet—it earns you a star shining your helmet. A place where everybody knows your name, where the steroids flow like water, and where it only rains when your cornerbacks make it.

This one appears to have been around the Internet for a while, but it’s well worth another look. Also, a word from Oskar, who likes to dance.

Shitters in the mist

It’s not every day you see this.

This one’s not new to cyberspace, but it’s worth a second (or third, or fourth) viewing, as it answers an important question:

What would happen if you created a man who combined French Stewart’s lisp and squint with John Lithgow’s looks and carriage, gave him a healthy dollop of self-seriousness and a proclivity to speak in platitudes about the post-9/11 world, named him “Harry Hurt, III”, and forced him to take a self-defense class from a similarly self-serious, bearded, bearish, opera-singing instructor?

Click on the tiny Harry to enjoy the tiger pantomimes and posed group shots.

Chop, palm, knee!

Wade Boggs has long been known as one of the best hitters of his generation, as well as a man of many idiosyncrasies, the most famous of which may have been his habit of eating chicken before every game. Recently, however, a friend introduced me to an article detailing another of Boggs’ strange habits: drinking large amounts of Miller Lite. According to a couple of his former teammates, Boggs would drink somewhere in the neighborhood of 50-70 Miller Lites in the course of an ordinary East Coast to West Coast day of travel. Exaggerated or not, these stories indicate that Boggs loved beer as much as he loved chicken. This, of course, can bring to mind only one figure. It’s a shame Boggs played about twenty years too early for his perfect entry music.

Nevertheless, Boggs and Ludacris both appeared in this year’s Wrestlemania 23. What does that tell us? Despite considerable career earnings, they’re both still looking to make a little extra cash. What better way for them to do it–and for us to be entertained–than to send them out to Wing Domes, roadside barbecues, and sports bars nationwide to sample the chicken and beer and mingle with the locals. (Of course, Wade might have to expand his beer repertoire, but I think he could do it. And Miller Lite makes a great chaser.) It’d be low-cost TV–just a crew with a couple cameras and mics–no rides to pimp. And it’d be entertaining. Odd couples sell; it’s a proven fact. MTV, Food Channel, Discovery Channel execs: make it happen.

Dear Chris,

I don’t know if you’ve been reading my blog lately. I can only hope.

I can tell you that I’ve been thinking of you. You’ve had such a great career–Get a Life, Saturday Night Live, all those appearances on Letterman, your novel, and, of course, Cabin Boy.

That last item is what I want to talk to you about. Now, I know Nathaniel Mayweather wasn’t your most successful character, but I’ll be damned if I don’t laugh when I think about him. His haughtiness, his crucible on the high seas, his hallucinations…

Thus, in the hope of bringing the franchise (and sexy) back, I present the following:

Cabin Boy 2: Poppycock!

2008: Fancy Lad Nathaniel Mayweather’s father has commissioned for his son’s birthday a Fancy Lad Time & Area (T&A) machine. This machine can transport its occupant to the time and area of his choosing. Having recently fancied himself a sporting fancy lad–specifically, the sport of fencing–Nathaniel enters the machine with the intention of traveling to China, 2010, so he can compete in the 2010 Olympics (here I take a little poetic license to give us time for production!). He does so wearing his fancy fencing gear and a generous codpiece.

But just as with his last journey, things go terribly awry. Nathaniel’s machine lands him in China, but rather than taking him forward two years, it takes him back 140. He lands in the middle of a poppy field being cultivated by seven stunningly beautiful sisters. They live on the land with their stern father, who is making so much money off of the crop that he doesn’t want to lose production by seeing any of them married. When they see Nathaniel in his T&A machine, the sisters lose control of their sexually frustrated, overworked selves. Their father is the only man they’ve seen in years, so Nathaniel arrives as a generously endowed knight in white armor!

Delighted at their turn of fortune, the sisters make like their father and hold Nathaniel hostage, hiding him in their cabin (their father has his own). Nathaniel’s duties include serving them meals when they return from the field and satisfying them sexually. He is made to wear revealing outfits and preen about the quarters. (I believe you can still preen with the best of them, Chris. Remember Sparkles?) :

The Sparkles bit ends at 2:00 to go or so; no need to watch beyond that

However, while he enjoys the attention from the sisters, Nathaniel chafes at the serving and cleaning responsibilities he has been given. He is a fancy lad, not a cabin boy; what’s more, he still hasn’t had his shot at Olympic fencing, the reason he entered the T&A machine to begin with. Thus, after another night of passionlessly satisfying the desires of one or more of the beautiful sisters, sequentially or simultaneously, he slips back into his fencing uniform and slips out the backdoor.

Thus begins his journey through swamps, fields, and epochs, wherein he meets historical figures large and small, friendly hybrids, and all sorts of other unusual persons and creatures. Personally, I recommend resurrecting Spewey.

This letter shall serve as a petition. Readers, should you want to see Cabin Boy 2: Poppycock! become a reality, merely sign your name and/or add your message in the comments below. And, of course, feel free to pass this along to other Cabin Boy fans/web activists who might want to help make Poppycock! happen.

Don’t play Coy, Chris. Your fans want it. Your oeuvre wants. You want it.

Let’s make some Poppycock!

Damon

PS–If you get the chance, come to the premiere of my movie. We’ll give you the VIP treatment! (Leave Spewey at home, though.)