CHEKIT: March Madness.

Your comments, suggestions and ridicule are welcome.

And YES, I did pick Winthrop. So did a bunch of other folks. Leave me alone.

MUZIK: Dave Chapelle's Block Party

Big booty people gotta share with a small booty.

The trailer promises. Dave Chapelle delivers.

I loves me some Mos Def. Some Kanye. Some FUGEES, for goodness sakes. And if you were in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood in Brooklyn that glorious day two summers ago (when Dave was at the height of his powers, before he went AWOL from Comedy Central) you would've been lovin' it, too. Go see what all the hubbub's about - and enjoy one of sweetest, funkiest, funniest and most joyous movies I've seen in the last year. If the theater weren't half-filled by grumpy white folks, I would've been workin' it in the aisle.

MUZIK: M is for MUZIK

The spring mix is in the works. Email me to suggest songs or request a copy.

CHEKIT: The Crappiest Invention of All Time

Nick Schulz over at Slate has some issues with that creepy bathoom convenience, the auto-flush toilet:

To understand why hands-free toilet technology stinks, you must first understand three things that any well-designed loo should permit you to do.

1) Clean the pool. You must be able to flush the toilet easily before sitting down, in case any detritus remains from a previous, inconsiderate visitor.

2) Clean the pool, again. You must be able to flush more than once after you are done. Some of us are more prolific than others, and courteous patrons will want to ensure that Point 1 is unnecessary for whomever follows.

3) Issue a courtesy flush. If you plan to settle down with the sports page, you should flush immediately after dropping the kids at the pool. There's no need to let the kids linger any longer than absolutely necessary. This is for the benefit of other visitors.

Remarkably, the automatic-flush toilet makes all three of these tasks more difficult. Consider the following scenario: You enter a nearly full house, and only one stall is free. This is probably because those who got to the restroom first saw the remains of someone else's visit and moved on to one of the cleaner stalls. (See Point 1 above.) What are you to do? The only way to clean the pool is to sit down and let the latrine laser register your presence. Then you must get up and hope you sat on top of the foul commode long enough to "tell" the laser to issue a flush command. Meanwhile, the other patrons are probably aware that you are going through this humiliating exercise, as they saw the stall's condition before you arrived.

I, too, have experienced the dreaded "ghost flush" in which an auto-flush toilet initiates the flushing process while you're still in situ, spraying toilet water up onto your bum. If this were a bidet, that would be one thing, but it's most likely an airport toilet, where God-knows-what - including what you've just contributed - is being splashed up onto you.

MUZIK: Natalie Portman, the Lonely Island boys, and SNL

I've always liked that Natalie Portman gal. Such a sweetheart.

CHEKIT: H5N1 be DAMNED. I want some eggs, yo.

I've toyed with the notion of raising a couple of chickens for a few years now - ultra-fresh eggs taste like a soft-boiled miracle - but I never really gave it any serious thought. (Okay - I did call city hall to see what sorta restrictions there were on keeping farm animals - to their credit, they didn't laugh at me on the phone - at least, not at a volume that I could hear.)

And then, I got this email yesterday:

Hello!

A while ago you contacted us to find out if the eglu was available in the States. Well, we’re just writing to let you know we’ve made it! You can now order an eglu and in recognition of your enthusiasm and pioneering spirit, we are offering you an exclusive opportunity to be one of the first eglu owners in America!

We have developed a brand new website just for you where you can find out more. If you visit www.omlet.us you’ll find all you need to know about the eglu, how to order and of course the useful guides on keeping chickens and rabbits.

Omlet is offering a full service in America – you deserve nothing less! As well as the full range of eglus, in all colours, you can also order fully grown chickens to be sent directly to you. Visit the website and have a look at the beautiful Gingernut Ranger, who is an excellent egg layer.

If you have any questions then we are here to help, you can call us Toll Free on 1-86-OMLET-USA or email info@omlet.us. Our telephone lines are answered between 8am and 6pm CST with an answerphone at all other times.

We really hope you enjoy the website,

Yours,

James, Simon, Will and Johannes

PS. If you order an eglu right away, you’ll benefit from a special introductory price.
PPS. There is a full 30 day moneyback guarantee on the eglu so you have a no risk way of finding out if the eglu is right for you.

Dudes. I think there's a chance of some really asskicking frittatas in my future. Though I have to question the wisdom of the 30 day guarantee. How does one return a chicken via UPS, exactly?

FILM: Nacho Libre

The quiet little mice over at AICN had this a month ago - but we're all following Harry on this kind of stuff, ain't we?

Hey folks, Harry here... Many of you are addicted to pootykat fracking lame American Wrestling... but the FACTS are, that's exactly what it is... pootykat fracking lame American Wrestling! Real men wear Mexican Masks and Wrestle for God! That's right... Real Wrestling Heroes Pile Drive for the Lord! And there's no more real a Mexican Wrestler than JACK BLACK as NACHO LIBRE! You know it, I know it... and God sure as blazes knows it! First... Behold the Masked Mexican Marvel!

To be fair, I Googled the movie after reading about it on Kotaku, so I gotta credit them both - but I'm realizing that, after posting an excerpt of an internet movie news site item that I read about on a video gaming blog to my own collection of links and web-heavy snarky commentary, maybe I should stop with the posting and the linking and maybe find out what it's like to kiss a girl.

Of course, not all of us can be like Kip, chatting online with babes all day.

That is Pedro, by the way, in the bottom photo, standing next to Jack Black. Nacho Libre is Jared Hess' follow-up project to his 2004 feature about Sir Godfrey of the Nessie Alliance, who summoned the help of Scotland's local wizards to cast a protective spell over the lake and its local residents and all those who seek for the peaceful existence of our underwater ally.

Many thanks to PBP and Kingmaker, who, upon hearing I'd never seen the first film, plopped me in front of their TV and Pay-Per-View'd me into cringeworthy, large-taloned bliss.

CHEKIT: Anna Nicole + Antonin

I wanna root (hee hee) for Anna Nicole Smith. For her and her and her ridiculous jibblies. Even though I know she'd spend the whole wad on bonbons and pink velour track suits. And her dead husband's son? Who WOULDN'T root against that tightass? I mean, Anna Nicole may be a golddigger, but at least she never tried to forge three pages out of her father's will.

The problem is: a certain former Texas govenor is also arguing for the former Vickie Lynn:

Speaking of wealthy Texas oilmen whose lawyers can justify just about anything, the president has joined this appeal on Anna's side. Assistant to the Solicitor General Deanne Maynard has 10 minutes to argue (not surprisingly) for giving more expansive jurisdiction to federal courts. The justices question her very little as she argues that the reason people create trusts—as opposed to wills—is precisely that they want to avoid probate. So, why is this a probate matter at all?

It's not that I'm reflexively opposed to anything il Bushe has to say. It just gives me the creepy crawlies when he and I want the same thing - though I'm convinced his position is less about expanding the power of the Federal courts and more about having an excuse to giggle when discussing filing amicus curiae briefs. ("hee hee! I'd like to be a friend of her court! Ha! Briefs! Hopefully mine! Wooo! She's a Texas girl, right, Dick? She knows how to party!")

Sex, money, and distinguished legal commentators making veiled comments about enormous boobies. I love SCOTUS!

CHEKIT: America's Best Restroom

If you're anything like this guy, or just generally squeamish about using public restrooms, the folks over at Cintas have five places for you to do your business in:

–– All Season Bistro, Lansing, MI
–– Borgata Hotel Casino and Spa, Atlantic City, NJ
–– Hemenways, Providence, RI
–– Quad City International Airport, Moline, IL
–– Wendell's Restaurant

As ridiculous awards go, this is one contest I can actually get behind. Because I ain't going back to any restaurant with a nasty loo no matter how good the chow is.

Well - maybe this place.

FILM: OscarPool Reminder

Don't forget to send in your OscarPool 2006 picks! The big shindig is this Sunday - so fill out those ballots, yo!

CHOW: Sunday Dinner Club

I love Chicago.

This is what I had to eat last night:

Sunday Dinner Club

Sun. Feb 26th and Thurs. March 2^nd, 2006

A Tribute to Pork

First

House-made Sausage

Pork Dumpling

Second

Grilled Loin with Cavolo Nero, and Cherry Gastrique

Third

Mixed Greens with Pancetta, Quail Egg and Croutons

Main

Braised Shoulder with White Corn Polenta, Roasted Beets, Salsify, Crispy Skins and Caramelized Onions

Dessert

Bacon Wrapped Mascarpone-filled Dates with Sherry Reduction

Christine, Jason and Josh cooked for PBP, Kingmaker, me and 11 other lucky bastards. Everyone, from the folks in the kitchen to our fellow foodie-minded dinner guests, were charming and cool. I wish, I WISH I could tell you where we ate. I wish I could send you into their kitchen.

But I can't.

Many, many props to Madman, MixMaster K and Miz Eng for the heads up.

---------------------

Date: Friday, January 6, 2006
Edition: Chicago Final
Section: Tempo
Source: By Monica Eng, Tribune staff reporter


PSSSSSST!

Hey, buddy, care for some ...

BRUSSELS SPROUT LEAVES?

Underground dining surfaces in Chicago

This summer I sneaked around New York eating scrumptious meals in secret, unlicensed restaurants. I finished my report with a wistful lament about the lack of such cool places in Chicago.

The lament was genuine but also almost a dare for underground chefs to come out of the woodwork.

It worked.

Within a few weeks, I was contacted about something called the Sunday Dinner Club. It's like a tiny private restaurant open twice a month in a toasty Wicker Park apartment, where three cooking school graduates serve up delightful meals along with a large helping of bonhomie.

The bad news: I can't tell you where it is and how to get reservations. That's all a secret. Like the places I wrote about in NYC, this restaurant operates through personal referrals only. Also, even though the payments for the meals are called "donations," the place is not a licensed restaurant.

And such under-the-radar ventures tend to make Chicago officials antsy, even if it's not entirely clear which officials should be feeling the ants.

"If they are operating illegally, then we would want to look into it as soon as possible and take any and all appropriate action," says Tim Hadac at the Chicago Department of Public Health. "But in terms of whether or not they are operating as a business, the final arbiter would be the Department of Revenue."

So I called the Department of Revenue to get the final word, and its representative told me that it would actually be matter for the Department of Business Affairs and Licensing.

So I called Rosa Escareno at the Department of Business Affairs and Licensing and she told me: "The term 'donation' is vague. But any time there is money changing hands then it could be considered a retail food establishment and it would need a license. But in terms of the rules on where they could prepare the foods, that would be the Department of Public Health."

So to avoid being busted by any of those departments, the trio of chefs has asked for their last names and specifics on their day jobs at -- let's just say--"fancy" Chicago restaurants to be withheld.

On the licensing matter, one of the chefs whose first name is Christine responds, "We consider ourselves more of a supper club than underground restaurant. Admission is based on friends, family and referrals only. We are not open to the public at large. Any suggested monetary contributions made by our guests are to cover the cost of food."

Christine and the other two chefs -- Josh and Jason -- are complete foodies.

So when they read another piece about underground restaurants early last year they thought, "Wow, why don't we do this too?" Christine remembered.

Soon after, they wrote to tell me about this ambitious twice-monthly venture that had them serving sumptuous five-course meals in their home for a donation of around $45 a person.

After reading the tempting menus they sent me from previous dinners, I signed up for the next possible spot. The week of the dinner, I got an e-mail with the address of the house hosting the dinner. And on the appointed night, my mom and I navigated Wicker Park's one way streets to finally locate the vintage brick two-flat where through the partially steamed-up living room window we could see a friendly group of folks settling in at a long wooden table.

When we entered, the chefs greeted us, took our coats and seated us at the beautifully set table for 10. Lovely smells wafted out of the kitchen as we met our fellow diners, uncorked our wine and munched on Red Hen bakery bread with sweet butter.

Some were proud parents of the young chefs, some were acquaintances and some were friends of friends who'd recently learned of this little dining gem.

As we worked through the courses from bread and amuse bouche to cheese course and dessert, we chatted, sampled one another's wine and got frequent visits from the chefs who were happy to explain the intricacies of their creations. Still, we wondered why hard-working chefs would go through all this bother on their days off, for -- given the quality of the produce -- a pretty slim profit margin.

In the months after writing my story, I learned that profit is not the big motivating factor for these kinds of informal eateries that have been around for many years in various temporary forms. That's because the aim is usually to use the place as a test bed for new concepts, to gain a group of fans and perhaps find bankrollers for a new project among those enthusiasts.

Christine admits she and her compatriots would like to open their own place one day, but for now, she says, it's mostly about having nice people over for dinner and stretching their creative culinary wings.

"I just love having people over at my house and being able to provide amazing food for them," she says. "We make a little money, but it is more about education and showing people what can be done with wonderful seasonal produce or this terrific lamb we found that day. In our day jobs, we are sometimes limited, but this opens up the possibility of doing 99 different types of cuisine, French one week or Thai, Mexican or Italian the next if we want to."

Only friends of those who have already partaken can be referred and invited to the dinners. But the trio can be hired to cater meals in customers' homes by e-mailing them at: info@sundaydinnerchicago.com.

Because of their informal nature, these kinds of restaurants are notoriously ephemeral. Due to lost leases and creative differences, both of the places I ate at in New York vanished within months only to resurface somewhere else. So, if you do manage to get on the Dinner Club list, you'd be wise to try it right away. Because you never know when these dinner parties are going to be over.

I didn't think they could outdo their previous dinner, which was a was so full of interesting textures and clean interpretations of pre- and post-colonial Mexican cuisine that it made you wanna smack your mama.

But they did.

I'm going again on Thursday.

My heart hurts. But it's a good ache.

CHEKIT: Don Knotts dies

R.I.P., Barney Fife. Whether you were gettin' down with the ladies, shootin' yourself in the foot, or playing a fish, I always thought you were a bit of a pimp. A nervous, gangly, bug-eyed pimp, but a pimp nonetheless.

LL&CB: Dispatch from Indiana, pt. 2

These cows, by the way, are Vic’s – a man so tough, he fell off the roof of his barn and drove to the neighbors to raise help with two broken arms. Kinda casts my complaining about being out of Band-Aids yesterday into sharp relief.

MUZIK: Sufjan, Matthew Sweet (MATTHEW SWEET!), Susanna Hoffs, and all the gravy and mashed potatoes in the world.

God bless that bastard Stereogum. Not only is there a cool post about a Spin interview with indie-rock pimp Sufjan -

SUFJAN STEVENS: I don't have the inclination to discover new music. Honestly, I don't really care.

- but later on, Sufjan goes on to talk about one of his favorite albums (a bewildering, but totally awesome choice) -

SUFJAN STEVENS: The Bangles' Everything. This is the first tape I ever bought with my own money. They wrote great songs, were talented performers, and they were supermodels. I know they were ripping off early girl-punk bands from the '70s, but there was something about the way they did it. It was so streamlined and well crafted. This is the one indulgence from the Top 40 that I still like.

And then Stereogum really drops the hammer: Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs are putting out an album of sixties covers.

Matthew Sweet & Susanna Hoffs Under The Covers
01. I See The Rain (The Marmalade)
02. And Your Bird Can Sing (The Beatles)
03. It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue (Bob Dylan)
04. Who Knows Where The Time Goes? (Fairport Convention)
05. Cinnamon Girl (Neil Young And Crazy Horse)
06. Alone Again Or (Love)
07. Warmth Of The Sun (The Beach Boys)
08. Different Drum (The Stone Poneys)
09. The Kids Are Alright (The Who)
10. Sunday Morning (The Velvet Underground)
11. Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (Neil Young)
12. Care Of Cell ..44 (The Zombies)
13. Monday Monday (The Mamas And The Papas)
14. She May Call You Up Tonight (The Left Banke)
15. Run To Me (The Bee Gees)

Matthew Sweet is one of my favorite musicians of all time. During the mid-nineties, I played Girlfriend and Altered Beast until the motor on my CD player whined and smoked in protest. And Susanna Hoffs, in addition to fronting one of the better bands of the eighties, is still HOT LIKE A PRETZEL. And now they're together covering the Beathes and the Beach Boys. And now I'm gonna need some quiet time alone.

Listen to three tracks from the new album here. And get down on your knees and thank the lo' you read this blog.

CHEKIT: A Scanner Darkly

Richard Linklater is a PIMP. And PKD is on the J-O-B.

CHEKIT: TCW, PBP, WTMX and my sweet, sweet booty.

A few months ago, PBP decided that she was tired of looking at my mopey, single ass feeling sorry for itself, and let me know she'd nominated me for Today's Chicago Woman's list of Chicago's 50 Most Eligible Singles.

Many of you who know me are wondering, at this point, if PBP is crazy, stupid, blind, or all three. And trust me, when I got the brain-scrambling email from the TCW staff letting me know I'd been nominated, I was right there with you.

A questionnaire soon followed, and thinking nothing would come of it, I gave responses in a manner I thought would guarantee TCW wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole tied to the end of a twenty-foot pole - answers such as:

3. My friends describe me as: “oh, about 5’ 10”, about 160, 165 pounds. Black hair. Clean. Psychotic.”

5. Something about myself most people don’t know, or that’s the most surprising: I’m trying to learn conversational Latin, which is a little like trying to learn Klingon, except only slightly less dorky. Only slightly. Vae mihi! Num amputandus est? (Oh CRAP! Will it have to be amputated?)

15. The three things I would take with me to a deserted island: My iPod, a generator to charge my iPod, and a boat to travel back and forth from the mainland so I can get gas to run the generator to charge my iPod. And I know you said three things – but also, maybe some beef jerky.

25. Life motto: “certis de causis hodie malo aringum aceto perfusum.” (For various reasons, I would prefer a pickled herring today.)

Apparently, though, black-haired, clean and psychotic is exactly what they're looking for over at TCW - because, with the exception of most of the above responses, they printed everything else. Including my picture. I look like a dork.

Looking at some of my listmates' mugs and reading our profiles, I gotta tell ya, single-Chicagoland - most of the selections make sense...but if I'm part of the best the city has to offer, you're better off with some Ben & Jerry's, some C-cell batteries and "The Notebook" on pay-per-view. And a fifth of bourbon.

I'm mentioning this here because, if you're in town around the 9th of March, you should come to the Hyatt Regency downtown and help me celebrate with the other 49 Chicago-area singletons appearing in this month's issue. It's for a good cause and it's open bar. And if watching me make a goober out of myself while drinking for charity isn't a good enough reason to buy a ticket, then I don't know what is.

Please understand - It's not that I don't think this whole thing is a little bit cool. It's just a little bewildering, is all.

P.S.: As part of the ridiculousness, I'm also gonna be on this show tomorrow night. I need four questions to ask these women and I'm FREAKING OUT. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

CHEKIT: Olympic Hotness

...and I ain't talkin' about the flame, baby.

Much is often made of the tastiness of Olympic athletes, but whether it's the proliferation of internet coverage on the subject or a worldwide increase in competitor hotness, the 2006 shindig in Turin will go down as the year America fielded what is widely regarded as the best-looking - if not the most medal-worthy - team in history. I mean, Bode's suckin' it up, the hockey team got beat down again, and even our women curlers have been knocked out of medal contention. What else do we have to do but savor our dominance in all things snowboard and watch the final round of Ice Dancing and thank our Republican congress that they finally passed a measure that I can, unreservedly, get behind.

Tanith, Tanith, Tanith. You're gonna melt a hole RIGHT THROUGH THE ICE Congrats on your silver medal - to you and whats-his-face.

And don't tell me that I'm being nasty, female Dispatches readers. I've got her, the Johnson sisters, and Jessica Schultz. You ladies have all this and more.

CHEKIT: I swear to God, that kid could sell nuclear waste.

I met Peanut Butter Parfait's sister's daughter this weekend - she's the two-year-old footie-clad curly-headed pile of adorableness you see enjoying my reading of "Mr. Feezes Gets the Sneezes." You think she's cute in the picture? Put her in an infomercial with an 800 number in front of a pile of manure, and you'll have thousands of folks ordering hot donkey turds over the phone.

It was nice to meet you, Lily. Hope to see you and your little white-girl afro soon.

More photos from Park City to come.

HOUSEKEEPING: Sorry I was away...

...the Man had his boots planted firmly on my nuts. And then I went on vacation.

But I'm back now. Dispatches now resumes regularly scheduled programming.

LL&CB: You sometimes sad and sweet and crazy girl.

FooBaRoo requested that I rerun this post from way back. I know it's a copout for those three or four of you wanting new LL&CB content, but hey - I just got a REQUEST. Who knows when that'll happen again?

Anyway. Happy Belated Valentine's Day.

MUZIK: More Beastles from DJ BC

BB once again proves itself the oracle of all things clickworthy with the heads-up on DJ BC's newest collection of Beastie-Boys/Beatles mash-ups. Download the newest collection and the last set of dope tracks here.

MUZIK: Pandora

The best thing for folks who like music since the iPod. And, in some ways, even better. Go. GO NOW.

CHEKIT: Babies' Cells Linger, May Protect Mothers

No matter what a rat bastard you've been to your mom, there's a chance that - unless you've actually gone and had her killed - you might be doing her some good (from NPR, via Slashdot):

Some scientists have proposed that when a woman has a baby, she gets not just a son or a daughter, but a gift of cells that stays behind and protects her for the rest of her life. That's because a baby's cells linger in its mom's body for decades and -- like stem cells -- may help to repair damage when she gets sick. It's such an enticing idea that even the scientists who came up with the idea worry that it may be too beautiful to be true.

MUZIK: Mash-ups - Best of Bootie

For better or for worse, mash-ups are here to stay. Copyright issues aside, it's some of the most inventive music on the web. If you liked The Grey Album or The Beastles, you'll love what the folks over at BootieSF have for you - 20 of the best tracks from last year.

CHOW: Hot Chocolate

Peanut Butter Parfait is a gastronome of the first order, and eating with her is always a blast. On Friday, we hit up two places I'll be taking folks to soon - Bin Wine Cafe, on Milwaukee, and Hot Chocolate, on Damen. Consider tempura green beans, the perfectly seared tuna or a light and flaky lasagna made with puff pastry instead of noodles...as with the flagship location, Bin Wine Cafe doesn't need plugging - you'll make your way there some post-work evening, run through a couple of wine flights and a mess of cheese and go home with a smile on your face and reservations for the week following.

But as good as the chow was there, the dessert we had at Hot Chocolate was better. PBP ordered banana cake while I had a chocolate souffle that had the consistency of sunshine. The Black and Tan at Hot Chocolate (one-third hot fudge, two-thirds velvety hot chocolate and three-thirds crazy delicious) was a life-changing experience - and that was before I added cognac.

Bin Wine Cafe was cheaper than expected - and Hot Chocolate was more so. But don't sweat the cash - together, they - like the insanely tasty components of the Black and Tan - made for a great evening. Much love to PBP for the Hot Chocolate tip. Thanks, buddy!

CHEKIT: Wack-ass mind-controlling ninja wasps hijacks cockroaches then uses them to feed their young.

I could almost get behind Intelligent Design after reading about this wasp. Almost.

Talk about the heeblie-jeeblies.

Science is cool. And creepy. And gross. (Thanks to BB.)

As an adult, Ampulex compressa seems like your normal wasp, buzzing about and mating. But things get weird when it's time for a female to lay an egg. She finds a cockroach to make her egg's host, and proceeds to deliver two precise stings. The first she delivers to the roach's mid-section, causing its front legs buckle. The brief paralysis caused by the first sting gives the wasp the luxury of time to deliver a more precise sting to the head.

The wasp slips her stinger through the roach's exoskeleton and directly into its brain. She apparently use ssensors along the sides of the stinger to guide it through the brain, a bit like a surgeon snaking his way to an appendix with a laparoscope. She continues to probe the roach's brain until she reaches one particular spot that appears to control the escape reflex. She injects a second venom that influences these neurons in such a way that the escape reflex disappears.

From the outside, the effect is surreal. The wasp does not paralyze the cockroach. In fact, the roach is able to lift up its front legs again and walk. But now it cannot move of its own accord. The wasp takes hold of one of the roach's antennae and leads it--in the words of Israeli scientists who study Ampulex--like a dog on a leash.

The zombie roach crawls where its master leads, which turns out to be the wasp's burrow. The roach creeps obediently into the burrow and sits there quietly, while the wasp plugs up the burrow with pebbles. Now the wasp turns to the roach once more and lays an egg on its underside. The roach does not resist. The egg hatches, and the larva chews a hole in the side of the roach. In it goes.

The larva grows inside the roach, devouring the organs of its host, for about eight days. It is then ready to weave itself a cocoon--which it makes within the roach as well. After four more weeks, the wasp grows to an adult. It breaks out of its cocoon, and out of the roach as well. Seeing a full-grown wasp crawl out of a roach suddenly makes those Alien movies look pretty derivative.

CHEKIT: Talk About Renting a Hole in the Wall

I know finding affordable housing in New York is like trying to find a virgin in a hotel & restaurant management program, but this is ridiculous:

So you think your place is small? One night recently, a group of architecture students staying up late in a loft in Brooklyn took to amusing themselves by stuffing a mattress into a hole cut into the wall above a bedroom door. Then they tried the mattress out for comfort. Not half bad! It occurred to one of them, Nick Freeman, that people might pay money to call that elevated mattress home.

So Mr. Freeman posted an ad on the Web site Craigslist: "$35 — elevated mattress-sized space between rooms." He used a minimalist pitch. "Opening between hall and room available for long/short-term use, accessible by ladder, sheets and pillows not provided." The ad went up around noon, and by the end of that day, Mr. Freeman had a dozen potential takers.

FILM: OscarPool 2006

Dispatches presents:
OscarPool 2006!

It's pretty straightforward - go here to download your ballot (if you're submitting electronically, use the "oscarpicksonline.doc" document - if you plan on seeing me and submitting a physical document or just want a reference sheet for your picks, print out "oscarpoolballot.pdf").

Fill it out and send it along to pcdq at yahoo dot com (subject line "OscarPool.") Find a way to get me $5 (either via snail mail or PayPal - if you have questions about this, email me and I'll talk you through it).

Enter as often as you like!

3rd place this year will receive a DVD of their choice from any of this year’s nominees from any category.
2nd place will pay 20 percent of the total prize pool.
1st place will pay 80 percent.

Please note:
Correct picks in certain categories are worth more than others.
Winners will be notified via MetLife Blimp.

Feel free to forward this onto other folks you know! The more the merrier.

Look for updates on the Oscar race and other OscarPool 2006 info in the next few weeks.

Don't hesitate to email me with questions or requests for additional ballots.

All ballots are due 3 p.m. CST, Sunday, March 5th. That is to say - I will be checking my email inbox at 3 p.m. and if your ballot ain't there, you're SOL.

Also - if I don't already know you - when you send your entry in, lemme know how you heard about Dispatches and/or OscarPool 2006!

Good luck!

POLITIK: State of the Union analysis round-up

A list of post-SOTU commentary/analysis/partisan-carping-related links for your perusal. In case you didn't watch - oil is bad, apparently. Which kinda makes the war we're currently fighting a little puzzling, right?

Wonkette provides pre- and post-game scuttlebutt...and her royal highness returns to liveblog the evening.

The NYT's take.

Slate gives it a miss.

And now, for the first, and hopefully last time here on Dispatches, two commentaries from the National Review. [Uno] [Dos] Just pasting those links into this post makes me want to wipe down the computer with Purel.

I guess droppin' some Daily Kos on you would serve as well to get the taste of Conservative out of your mouth.

CHEKIT: Ask a Ninja

I’m so so so late to this one. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put it up, right?

Strong Bad Email + Real Ultimate Power = Crazy Delicious. ‘I look forward to killing you soon.” Holy pee-pants.