Theater of the Absurd

I'm a man who actually doesn't mind going shopping at Target.

I know I'm in the minority. I know a trip to Target, for most men, is one that is commonly accompanied by kicking and screaming.

But I have an ulterior motive for treks to Target: popcorn and soda.

It's a hidden gem, I tell you.

At Target---at least the one near our house---you can get a decent size bag of popcorn and a medium-sized drink for $1.99.

Yep---one ninety-nine.

So while Mrs. Eno grabs a shopping cart and sets out to cross off her list, I make a beeline for the snack counter to grab my deal of the century.

For $2.11, after tax, I can munch on fresh popcorn and sip an icy cold drink, like a child, while my better half shops.

Oh, I'm not stodgy or protective. I absolutely offer my wife popcorn and pop throughout our shopping visit. So I'm sharing the wealth.

Popcorn and a pop for $2.11.

I bring this up because a similar combo, at your neighborhood movie house, would set you back about $8-10. Easy.

The Free Press ran a story yesterday about why concessions are so expensive at movie theaters. A theater owner, Jon Goldstein (Maple Theater, Bloomfield Hills), offered up a relatively unsurprising "explanation."

It's simply an example, Goldstein says, of theaters passing costs onto the consumer.

Good, old fashioned American capitalism, in other words.

He also blamed us messy moviegoers.

“The life of a popcorn seed would actually be very interesting, from getting popped to putting into a bucket, to where it ends up at the end of the day, whether it’s in someone’s stomach or smushed into the seats or the floors of the theater,” said Goldstein in the Freep story.



“If people would spill that popcorn in the living room as they do in the movie theater, I think they would understand the labor costs that go into running a concession stand in a busy movie theater.”

I have spilled my share of popcorn in the living room. But cleaning it up certainly wouldn't run me a fortune in paid labor.

Even extrapolated to the rows of seats in a theater, I can't imagine how sweeping popcorn from the floor equals $10 for a bucket and a soda.

But at least Goldstein spoke on the subject, which has mostly been dealt with with rolling eyes from consumers and little explanation from theater owners.

Yet Goldstein's comments about why concession prices are so high smack of greed and gouging---by movie studios. The price of a ticket---also high---apparently goes mostly back into the studios' coffers, Goldstein says.

“If we can’t keep a majority of that ticket price there’s only one way that we can pay for everything……and that’s at the concession stand,” Goldstein said.

Understood. A theater guy's gotta make a living.

Just think how high the prices would be if the employees were paid more than $7 an hour.

The above sentence isn't fact-based; I'm guessing. But I can't imagine that theater owners, already crying foul over having to raise concession prices to make a buck, are paying their employees---who are mainly teenagers---much more than peanuts.

I don't think Goldstein is a bad guy. I don't think theater owners, in general, are bad guys. But still, the prices seem awfully high, don't they?

Goldstein did say something that I respect.

“If you treat your customers like they are not smart, then they are going to do things that are not smart, but if you treat customers with respect and with honesty then you usually get that in return as well.”

I like that philosophy.

But there's also this, which will continue to happen until the end of days.

“If you have to make money, that’s fine,” said Amber Hunt, 29, of Ferndale. “But more people are just going to be sneaking in candy like me.”

Now, if they start screening movies at Target, you think the $1.99 popcorn/pop special will go away?

In a Hollywood minute.

Rush to Judgment

What is becoming increasingly clear in the fallout of the misogynist remarks made by conservative wonk Rush Limbaugh is that the Republican Party is about to place in nomination for the most important, most treacherous job in the world, a man who doesn't have the courage to stand up to a talk radio host.

So how can we expect the GOP nominee, as president, to stand up to the bullies, dictators and other ne'er-do-wells that exist on this planet?

Answer: we can't.

They say silence is deafening, and in the case of Limbaugh and his attack on Georgetown student Sandra Fluke, the silence has managed to be louder than Limbaugh himself---and that's not easy to do.

Mitt Romney, Rick Santorum and Newt Gingrich have each offered tepid, milquetoast responses to Limbaugh, who called Fluke a "slut" and a "prostitute," while also calling for the young woman to produce sex tapes. All because Fluke had the temerity to want to testify on Capitol Hill about the University providing contraception as part of its health care.

Romney said that Rush's words weren't the ones he'd use. Santorum tried to dismiss Limbaugh as an "absurd" entertainer. Gingrich tried to turn the tables and called President Obama "opportunistic" because he showed grace and compassion in phoning Fluke the day after Limbaugh's savage attack.



Each of the candidates have had second, and sometimes even third chances to clarify their positions, i.e. a "do-over" to show that their first responses were inappropriate and feeble.

Yet still, a week after Limbaugh went after Fluke, not only have the candidates, but most of the Republican Party have stayed mum about this red hot button issue.

No one wants to take on Rush Limbaugh among the GOP ranks. I don't know whether that's pitiful, insane or abhorrent.

Let's go for all three.

Santorum, in fact, had the gall to respond "courage" when asked in the last GOP debate to describe himself with one word.

Romney doesn't want to touch Limbaugh with a 10-foot pole. Gingrich sometimes actually sounds like Rush's press secretary.

The candidates' cowardice is only matched by their stupidity.

Blame their camps, too. For no one apparently has the brains to deduce that if their man came out against Limbaugh's comments---really came out against them---then he'd look a whole lot better than the others, and that such a response might actually help him in November.

You think the women voters, who are already cranky about birth control being reanimated as a political issue some 50 years after they thought it was put to bed, are in the mood to put up with attacks on their gender such as the one Limbaugh levied on Ms. Fluke?

Yet if one of the GOP presidential candidates had shown some courage---Santorum's word---I'd bet some of those female voters might be a little soothed.

The bottom line: a presidential candidate who is afraid of a talk show host who represents a sliver of a party that needs to grow instead of shrink, isn't fit to be president.

If the eventual GOP nominee needs a reminder of that, you can believe the women voters of this country will gladly provide it.

The Reluctant Frontrunner

It's been said that it's easy to run for President of the United States. What's difficult is stopping.

I don't think that's true of Mitt Romney.

I'm not convinced that Romney, the former Governor of Massachusetts and Republican frontrunner, is all that jazzed about this whole running for president thing.

Romney speaks of his business acumen and his days in the board rooms almost wistfully, like he's thinking, "THOSE were the days!"

CEOs don't have to run for anything. They don't have to get anyone to like them. They don't have to explain themselves. They're rarely even held accountable.

All those traits, I think Mitt Romney misses very badly.

What he also misses very badly is in his attempts to orate.

It was all there for Romney on Tuesday night, to inject some passion and touch on some emotional chords. He had just won a victory in the Michigan GOP primary---his supposed "home state."

You know, the place where the trees are just the right height.

He could have, in his victory speech, waxed nostalgic and emotional and spoke of how much the win meant to him---and I don't mean in terms of delegates won.

He could have captivated his audience with words of praise for his "fellow" Michiganders, and how much he knew they'd come through for him and why he believes in Michigan and its people.




There was absolutely nothing stopping Romney from delivering such a speech. He won---maybe not by as big of a margin as hoped---and so the winner can pretty much say anything he wants. The winner will never be accused of having sour grapes.

The term "sore winner" doesn't exist, as far as I'm concerned.

But Romney didn't seize his moment. He almost raced through his speech Tuesday night, refusing to inject any dramatic pauses and eschewing voice inflection.

The speech sounded like a bad Jay Leno monologue---which I know can be considered a redundant term. If it was supposed to be a roast of President Obama, then Romney could use some pointers from Jeffrey Ross, Lisa Lampanelli, et al.

Romney spoke as if he had just consumed a gallon of pure caffeine, which in addition to giving him a nervous tick, also stripped him of any human emotion.

I think Bob Shrum, a Democratic strategist, put it well on MSNBC last night.

Romney, Shrum said, comes off as someone who spends his time in a Golden Tower and occasionally comes down to speak to the peasants---by reading cards that someone thrusts at him.

But, like I said, I think Romney's lack of public speaking skills are borne out of the fact that he simply doesn't like doing this.

He's not in Massachusetts anymore, Toto.

This is big time politics now. REAL campaigning. It's a grind, for sure. And it's lasting longer than he thought it would, thanks to Romney's inability to shake Rick Santorum, who's clinging to Romney's pant leg like a feisty dog.

The nomination was supposed to be mostly clinched by now. Romney didn't sign up for this kind of a fight, I don't believe. And it's showing, in the clumsy manner in which he speaks.

The line about trees being the right height in Michigan is already becoming his signature. And that's not good.

Mitt Romney is treating this presidential campaign not with passion or emotion, but with the countenance of a man trying to get through a root canal.

And yet he'll still likely win the GOP nomination, and go mano-a-mano with President Obama.

Who has the heart to tell Mitt that he ain't seen nothing yet?

Hey, Hey, He Was a Monkee!

He was, as heartthrobs go, portable.

Davy Jones was adorable and could fit in your pocket, it seemed. He was the pipsqueak of the Monkees, the tiniest of the singers/actors who captivated young women of the late-1960s thru the mid-1970s.

He was part of the British Invasion but in a decidedly American way. The Monkees, save for Jones, was made up of Americans: Micky Dolenz, Mike Nesmith and Peter Tork. They had an American producer (Don Kirshner at first) and their shtick was concocted by Americans (Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider).

Rafelson and Schneider, who were each steeped with television experience, wanted to make a quirky TV show about a rock and roll band. They didn't, initially, intend for that band to actually become a rock band.

But that's exactly what the Monkees did; they were every bit of a rock band as the others they shared spots with on the Billboard 100.

The lead singer was Jones, with his very British mop head---and very Beatles-like at the time.

Jones quickly became the unquestioned star of the Monkees---at least with the sweet young things who cried and fawned and fainted upon seeing him in person. Also very Beatles-like.

Jones is dead now, of an apparent heart attack at age 66. He's the first of that generation's heartthrobs to pass---unless you include Beatles John Lennon and George Harrison.

The list of singers, off the top of my head, who caused the females to swoon in Jones' time includes David Cassidy, Leif Garrett, Bobby Sherman. Joining that group a tad later were the likes of Shaun Cassidy and Donny Osmond.

But Jones was one of the first to mesmerize the girls; the Monkees were formed in 1965, around the time Beatlemania was gripping our nation.

His British accent was part of his charm, because it stood out from the rest of the group. It gave him a waifish, almost vulnerable aspect to his persona.

The Monkees were carefully crafted. There was the Class Clown (Dolenz); the Goofball (Tork); the Intellectual (Nesmith); and the handsome, delicate front man (Jones).

But it was Jones, without question, who the girls came to see, when the Monkees would go on tour. From 1966-68, when the TV show was on the air, a ticket to a Monkees concert was as hot as anything.

The band (by this time they had removed the shackles placed on them by producers who wanted to limit their musical performances and replace it with studio musicians) continued to record several years after the show was canceled.

The hits were genuine and red hot at the time: "Daydream Believer"; "Last Train to Clarksville" (my personal favorite); "Pleasant Valley Sunday"; and "The Monkees Theme," to name just a few.


Davy Jones, at the height of his heartthrob status


Jones didn't sing lead on all of the hits, but he still managed to be the sexiest tambourine player that any teenaged girl could dream up, when he wasn't crooning.

Jones had performed as recently as February 19. He was always up for Monkees reunions, and participated cheerfully---unlike Nesmith, who for whatever reason has consistently resisted Monkees-related events.

The Monkees each had trivia tidbits about them. Dolenz has a daughter who is an actor; Tork's last name is short for Torkelsen, and he had a brother who was a running back for the Green Bay Packers in the NFL; and Nesmith's mother invented Liquid Paper.

And Jones?

He was an actor before he became a rock star. There was irony to his career.

On February 9, 1964, he appeared with the Broadway cast of Oliver! on The Ed Sullivan Show, the same episode on which The Beatles made their first appearance.

According to Wikipedia, Jones said of that night, "I watched the Beatles from the side of the stage, I saw the girls going crazy, and I said to myself, this is it, I want a piece of that."

He got it, and then some.

As recently as February of 2011, Jones spoke enthusiastically of a possible Monkees USA and UK tour. His reasoning was brilliantly simple.

"You're always hearing all those great songs on the radio, in commercials, movies, almost everywhere."

I know what Jones meant. To this day, I get excited when "Clarksville" comes on the radio.

Time Magazine contributor James Poniewozik summed up Jones and the Monkees thusly: "Whatever Jones and The Monkees were meant to be, they became creative artists in their own right, and Jones’ chipper Brit-pop presence was a big reason they were able to produce work that was commercial, wholesome and yet impressively weird."

Impressively weird. That may not be a compliment when spoken of others, but it's dead on accurate when it comes to the Monkees. They may have started as a gimmick, but they ended as a legitimate part of rock-and-roll history.

Thanks largely to that tiny little Brit with the mop head.

Li-Lo, the Homebody?

Only time will tell if Lindsay Lohan will continue down the road of the straight and narrow.

That's how it works with the addict, the abuser, the dependent. There's no other way to evaluate the progress than to sit back and wait.

Lohan, maybe the oldest 25-year-old in Hollywood history, went on the "Today" show and told host Matt Lauer that she's clean and sober and a "homebody."

The fast life and the drugs and alcohol don't appeal to her anymore, she told Lauer.

The interview will air Thursday morning, but MSNBC previewed it via Today.com.

"That's not my thing anymore," Lohan said. "I went out, actually, a few months ago with a friend. And I was so uncomfortable. Not because I felt tempted, just because it was just the same thing that it always was before. And it just wasn't fun for me. I've become more of a homebody. And I like that."

Lohan is 25 and who knows what else she can do right now to make money, other than to act.

She's hosting "Saturday Night Live" this weekend and certainly her motivation to go on "Today" is that it's a great vehicle on which to tell not only fans, but---and more importantly, frankly---TV and movie producers that she's fit to hire.

Lohan's interview with Lauer is just that---an interview, as in for a job.

With platinum blonde hair, Lohan looks good in a black dress as she explains to Lauer that, after being in denial, she's ready to start proving herself all over again.

Lauer asked her point blank: How can those with the power to hire, trust you again?

"I think that that's gonna take -- I think that takes time," Lohan said. "And I think that it's actions. Because people can say things all they want, but I think I still need to go through the process of proving myself, you know, with 'SNL,' being on time, being, you know, keeping my -- can't say the word -- but stuff together."


Lindsay Lohan, the blonde and clean and sober version


It's all very mature, lucid stuff coming from someone who's been anything but for the better part of the past seven years, at least.

The proving ground starts with Lohan's next role. And it's an ironic one: Elizabeth Taylor.

It's like what Marilyn Monroe once said of co-star Monty Clift, when they were filming "The Misfits" in 1960.

"(Clift)'s the only person I know who's more screwed up than me," Monroe said.

The notion of Lohan playing Taylor, who was an off-screen drama queen in her own right, is delectable. Yet that's where Lohan's road to professional recovery is about to begin, after her turn on "SNL" this Saturday.

Lohan knows that one clean job doesn't a comeback make, no matter how much she shines in the Taylor project.

"I don't want people to have that reason to be scared anymore," she tells Lauer. "So being able to have this opportunity with 'SNL' and the film, I'm gonna do what I'm supposed to do, and enjoy doing it, and do it as best as I can."

Lohan isn't out of the woods yet. The fact that she acknowledges that is a step in the right direction, albeit a baby one.

Blue Bananas, Anyone?

Let me pose a question for you, survey style.

Should I ask bananas to change their color from yellow to blue? Because I like blue so much better, and I think they'd be prettier that way.

Vote now: yes or no, and why.

What, you say? That's a ridiculous question? What do you mean, bananas can't change color? Really? No matter how hard I try, and no matter how many of you agree with me?

Wayne County Commissioner Kevin McNamara (D-Canton) is the latest to scratch for his 15 minutes, in the ongoing saga of Wayne County Executive Bob Ficano, aka The Little Italian General.

It's Irish on Italian crime, just like the old days in the Bowery.

McNamara sent an e-mail out to thousands of his constituents in western Wayne County, posing this to them (verbatim): "Government cannot endure without some form of trust among the elected officials and by the taxpayers who voted for them. A vote may be forced upon the Wayne County Commission to ask County Executive Robert Ficano to resign. Complete a one-minute survey and comment."

Ficano is the yellow banana here. And McNamara wants to know if his constituents should ask their commissioner to ask Ficano to turn blue.


Kevin McNamara


The survey is a great way to get some media attention, which McNamara certainly has. But its results are destined to be pretty much moot.

You see, there's no provision in the County Charter that allows the Commission to remove Ficano from office, no matter how hard they try or how much they want to.

So why solicit responses for something that isn't possible?

"My feeling is, quite frankly, I would like us not to vote," McNamara told the Free Press. "As mad as I am at him, I haven't seen that he's done anything illegal. But I want to know what the people in my area think."

Maybe McNamara is still "mad" over the leaked video of his alcohol-related traffic stop from last year, which may have come from someone inside Ficano's inner circle.

It's also an election year for the Commission. Ahh--NOW we may be on to something.

Commissioners Laura Cox (R-Livonia) and Bernard Parker (D-Detroit) have already gone public, but at least they've actually called for Ficano's resignation, sans surveys.

Not sure what McNamara's end game is here. It's toe-dipping into warm water. Not surprisingly, per his Facebook page, response was running about 70-30 for Ficano to resign. But some of the comments expressed frustration with the survey.

"Kevin just do it," one person commented.

Yeah, enough already!

Trouble is, there's really nothing to do.

Stuck at the bottom of the Free Press story was this: McNamara said the Wayne County Charter has no provision for the commission to remove the executive, so any vote would be advisory at best.

But if three commissioners request a meeting to debate a resolution calling for his resignation, the meeting would have to be held, the story says.

But Ficano isn't resigning, and the Commission can't make him.

In fact, I'd put the chances of the Little Italian General abdicating his throne at about the same as, say, bananas turning blue.

But thanks for asking, Kevin.

Not-So-Sloppy Seconds

As much as I would have liked to have seen Eddie Murphy do a turn, there's something wonderfully comfortable about having Billy Crystal to fall back on.

I'm referring to the Academy Awards, which take place this Sunday. Crystal, the actor/comedian/director, will host, as he's done so many times before.

But Billy wasn't the first choice this time.

The Academy wanted to go with Murphy as a first-time host, but not long after inking him, the show's producer, Brett Ratner---a chum of Eddie's who was instrumental in getting him the Oscar gig---quit, and a day after that, so did Murphy.

I was totally on board with the notion of Murphy escorting us through the sometimes interminable broadcast, but like I said---Crystal isn't a bad second choice.

Oh, how many funny moments Crystal has given us as Oscar host---some of them occurring in the show's opening montage.


Crystal, with the best co-star he's ever had not named Jack Palance


But one that sticks out is when the Academy honored longtime silent movie producer/director Hal Roach, 100 years young, in 1992.

Crystal pointed Roach out in the crowd, and the centenarian stood and started to speak. Unfortunately, the theater's sound system didn't pick up his words for broadcast.

Without missing a beat, and displaying his God-given ability at comedic timing, Crystal deadpanned, "I think that's fitting, after all — Mr. Roach started in silent film..."

It was one of Oscar's funniest moments. You can see it here.

There have been many more bouts of laughter, with Crystal at the helm, and no doubt there will be even more added to the list this Sunday.

So it's not a bad thing that Eddie Murphy isn't going to make his Oscar hosting debut---not when you have an old pro like Crystal ready to yuk it up.

Billy Crystal, who never really found his footing as a film star in any movie without "City Slickers" in the title, is clearly much better poking fun at the industry than he is at being in it.

We can't be good at everything, after all. Crystal has his niche, and that's more than a lot of his brethren can say.