The Culture Bunker

We hate a lot of things—Radiohead, the “Jamily,” Oprah, Arliss—but man oh man, do we hate Republicans. . . . Our favorite sign at the convention: “W Is for Women.” Guess what? It’s actually for “White.” Just who are these 17 percent of African Americans voting for Dubya? Besides J.C. Watts, Colin Powell, and Shaq, that is (we still prefer to believe the Rock was just doing a gig, not expressing a political preference. Besides, it’s funny to have him there pissing off Brent Bozell). Also, is it time to start making fun of Neil “S&L Scandal” Bush? When’s he introducing his own brand of (presumably lite) beer? Come to think of it, where’s Roger Clinton? Shouldn’t he have a new record out?

Update: Marcel from Friends is currently the “Rally Monkey” for the Anaheim Angels. Who says watching ESPN isn’t educational? No word on what Matt LeBlanc’s Ed co-star is up to. . . . Newbury Comics in Boston is still a fine record store, and the novelty section is like one-stop Christmas shopping for Wayne Coyne. . . . Paul “Mike and the Mechanics” Young is dead, but worry not, Paul “Wherever I Hang My Enormous Penis, That’s My Home” Young is alive and well somewhere in the south of France.

So the University of Hawaii has stopped calling its sports teams the “Rainbow Warriors” because the school administration thinks it’s, well . . . totally gay. “That logo really put a stigma on our program at times in regards to it’s part of the gay community, their flags and so forth,” athletic director Hugh Yoshida said. Does Greenpeace know about this? We’re thinking those season ticket packages that came with rooms at the Sheraton Lanai and a same-sex marriage license have also been discontinued. Seriously—this guy is a real knob, and someone should break into the U of H locker room and paint pink triangles on the football uniforms.

That Stuff cover featuring Lacey Chabert really creeps us out. On the other hand, Anna Paquin is coming along rather nicely. We’ll take her over Natalie Portman any day (’cause she’s a much better actress, we mean). In other news, we understand that Anna’s twice-her-age, twice-as-hot “X-Men” co-star Famke Janssen is newly husband-free, to which we can only say, in the words of Joey Tribbiani, “How you doin!?” Baby, we promise to treat you just like Kenneth Branagh did in Celebrity. Of course, with our luck she’s probably already coupled up with her fellow celeb divorcee Jay McInerney (who would also treat her that way, we’re thinking).

Late ’80s/early ’90s reunion fever: The Wonder Stuff are giving it another go, and Michael’s really, really psyched. Also back are the Waterboys, but we know better than to get pumped just ’cause Mike Scott decides to use the name again (now if he actually rounded up Wickham, Wallinger, and Thistlethwaite . . . ). Also returning, with a new record and everything, are the Bangles. What the hell, we don’t blame Susanna Hoffs for trying to earn a little dough. If her husband keeps directing movies as bad as The Spy Who Shagged Me and Mystery Alaska, she’ll be the only breadwinner in the family. However, we believe that if Behind the Music has made it all the way to the Bangles, it might be time to end the show. Who’s left, Beat Happening? Yo La Tengo? The Dream Syndicate? (Come to think of it, we’d like to see Kendra and Steve slug it out for that one.)

How boring is Faith Hill? We wouldn’t turn her away if she showed up at our door half-dressed in a rainstorm or anything, but let’s face it—she plays a nurse, a cop, a dominatrix, and a waitress in her video, and still gives off zero sexual heat. She’s no Shania. And whoever does her tunes is no Mutt Lange. . . . What a bummer that American High sucked. Our theory: 22-year-olds are amusing, 17-year-olds are just depressing, stupid, and young. . . . Now that Robert Downey Jr. is free at last, could we lock up Ethan Hawke?

The Culture Bunker has been written thanks to Tremble, our new favorite high-in-caffeine drink. It makes regular coffee seem like Celestial Seasonings. Why, just tonight, in addition to this column, we’ve written an epic poem about Thom Yorke and recorded three garage albums (one of which might be speed garage, we’re not sure).

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